by Anthology
He wraps his other hand around my neck and pulls me to him with ease, cradling my head, demanding my lips. He kisses me with the force of a thousand explosions, his tongue rolling against mine, biting at my lips, drinking me in like the essence of life. When he pulls away, the waiter is standing at the table side. He pulls out his credit card without ever looking away from me.
“Let’s walk,” he whispers as the waiter returns with his card and a few mints.
Anticipation paints my expression as we walk down the stone path. His hand never leaves the small of my back, always leading from behind, he guides me through the crowd. We pass restaurants and hotels full of people and his focus never leaves me. I don’t hear a sound, but his breathing, don’t feel a thing, but his hand on my back. We come to a small stone bridge that juts across the river and stop, letting the crowd pass. We cross the bridge and he pulls me down a dirt path that runs along the river.
We come to a patch of grass that sits on the river bank shrouded by a large weeping willow, its wispy branches reaching to the ground, swaying in the gentle breeze with a bird’s eye view of the throbbing crowd on the other bank. Tommy pulls me beneath the tree, pressing me up against the massive, craggy trunk. He goes straight for my neck, kissing and biting at my flesh as he unties the straps of my dress. Holding the two delicate ties between his fingers, he backs away from me with a challenge in his eyes. I merely nod in anticipation and smile as he drops the straps and the dress slides down my body, skimming every curve before hitting the ground at my feet. And there I stand, exposed, on fire, waiting.
“You look like a little nymph,” he growls and takes a step closer. “A naughty little nymph,” he smiles salaciously, “My nymph.” Over his shoulder I watch people walk and visit, unaware of the naked nymph beneath the tree. He steps closer, his hands resting on my hips, his eyes fixed on me. “Don’t worry about anything but me little nymph. Close your eyes and just listen.”
I close my eyes and focus; focus on the sounds around me, laughter and chatter, the babbling of the river, the air rustling through the full trees. Focus on his hands gliding over my skin, his grip on my breast, his mouth on my nipple. He tugs at me and twists my flesh, pressing me against the tree. The rough bark at my back barely registers as he growls in my ear.
“Shall I take you like this?” His coarse voice rolls through me like thunder, the lightening shortly follows with his fingers between my legs. I don’t open my eyes, just focus on the sounds and as he steadies himself, he is suddenly the only thing there. All I can hear. The rhythm of his breath, the pounding of his heart, the crush of his lips against mine. His fingers pumping in and out of me, matching his ragged breathing. The slide of his zipper and the sound of my feet leaving terra firma.
I reclaim my sight as he spears me with his cock, thrusting to the hilt, taking my breath away. I coil my arms around his neck and take a fistful of his hair in my hand, pulling his eyes to mine. I watch his eyes blaze in lust as he pummels me against the tree. My back grating against the bark, his fingers branding me in bruises I will relish from his fervent grip.
I lock my feet behind his back and hold fast while he bucks like a wild bull. I ride him until a feral howl threatens to tear from my throat, no longer aware, no longer caring that just across the water people are dining and drinking. He cups his massive hand over my mouth and smiles wildly as we fuck each other desperately. His eyes flare in question and I silently promise not to scream as he lowers his hand and covers my mouth with his. His warm tongue sweeping into my mouth, a welcome invasion.
He slows his pace gently sliding me away from him, pulling me back with purpose, each time my clit grazing against him. Little charges of pleasure fire and refire every time we meet, a slow burn that grows into a wildfire. Uncontrolled and about to explode, my pussy starts to contract and pull him deeper, the walls closing around him.
“Mmmm, yes, my little nymph!” he exclaims, a wild snarl at his lips. “I want you to come, right here in front of God and everyone. Like the river, I want you to gush.” My head begins to spin as my senses leave me and I surrender to the tidal wave that’s about to drown me. “Come for me, little nymph, come for me now.” His whispered demand pushes me over the precipice and I fall into a spectacular orgasm that sets my body on fire. Every cell pops and crackles, heat shoots from my extremities, my toes curl and flex and my pussy flows like a brook. “Good girl,” he snarls through gritted teeth as he finds his own release. Grunting like a bear, he pulls me down onto his raging cock with force, filling me with his heat, rewarding me for a job well done.
Our heartbeats find each other and dance in rhythm, our breaths slow and find measure and my blurred vision finds his shining face, smiling at me with such reverence I feel I could burst all over again. His cock still twitches inside me, my pussy still pulses around him as a child’s squeal pulls us back to the moment. Back to the riverbank. I am suddenly so aware of my nakedness as he lowers me to the ground and bends to pick up my dress. Yet before he hands it to me, he backs me against the tree, covers me with his body and kisses me like a starving man.
“My little nymph,” he muses with a wink as he slips my dress over my head and moves to tie the straps. He tucks himself back into his trousers and cleans me of any dust or bark before we head back up the path and back over the bridge.
We slowly make our way back to the hotel in relative sated silence and I couldn’t be happier. This man makes me happy and seems to read me like a book. The thought puts worry in my mind. Would he care about me if he knew? Would anything change? Can I keep lying to this man? Suddenly I’m full of questions and doubt. Doubts I had pounded into the dirt, learned to stamp out years ago. The first time I rationalized and fully accepted what I want, what I need was the last time I felt guilt. Until now.
A restless sleep wakes me early and my stirring wakes Tommy.
“What’s wrong, my little nymph?” His sleepy voice cracks as he pulls me close to him, tucking me beneath his muscled arm, surrounding me with his warmth.
“Just can’t sleep, I’m sorry I woke you” I stroke his flesh, running my fingers along the veins of his forearms, back and forth, still unable to remove the doubt from my mind. The possibility that he wouldn’t have me if he really knew me, knew what I’ve done, knew what I needed and wanted.
“Why don’t I get us some coffee and pastries and we can stay in bed all morning?” He peppers kisses across my shoulders with every word sending a delicious shiver running down my spine. Knowing that I need a moment to collect my thoughts I agree.
“That sounds perfect.” I place a kiss in the palm of his hand before he pulls his arm from beneath me, rolling me over. He covers me with his body and kisses me sweetly before he hops out of bed and disappears into the bathroom. He returns fully dressed, looking fresh and freshly fallen from heaven. A grin I have no control over cracks across my face and he smiles back.
“That’s what I like to see first thing in the morning.” He slips his phone into his pocket and asks how I like my coffee before he disappears out the door and I roll over to contemplate my next move. Thoughts race in my mind. If we go any further should I tell him the truth? What if he runs? My mind is spinning out of control and before I know what I’ve done, I have my phone in my hand and it’s ringing.
“Jackie? Are you ok? Did I forget something?”
“No. Tommy…” I pause. I feel like my tongue is three sizes too big for my mouth all of a sudden, unable to force the words, unsure how to say what I know I must say. Then in a rush that was out of my control, words just begin to fall from my mouth, unbidden. “There’s something you should know about me. Things that I like, things that I need. I’ve been on my own for a while, and I’ve had to find ways to get what I need.”
“Jackie, what are you talking about? Can’t this wait until I get back?”
“No, you have to hear this now.”
“Alright, I’m listening.”
“Tommy, I have specific…needs.”
> “Jackie, I…”
“No, let me finish.”
“Jackie.”
“Tommy, I was an escort…” Nothing. Silence, a dead silence that slowly cracks my heart The line is dead, he is gone. I hold the phone in my hand and just watch it for a moment. As if it will come alive or send me back in time with any luck. But all there is, is silence. Crushing silence.
I begin to sob, quietly at first. A quiet, dignified cry that soon turns to weeping uncontrollably, ugly tears streaking down my morning face. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed by an iron fist, my chest is tight and my eyes veiled in tears of fear and sadness. I may have just lost the best thing that ever happened to me. The first and last man to ever make me feel so alive, so happy, so…loved.
“Jackie!” I hear my name being carried on the breeze, but don’t know if it’s the white noise of crying playing tricks on me. I rise from the bed and slide the balcony door open only to hear it again. This time at the top of his booming voice, “Jackie!”
I step outside and see Tommy standing beneath the balcony, a drink carrier with two coffees in one hand and a bag of pastries waving about in the other.
“Jackie, baby! My phone died. Please.” I just watch him in disbelief for a long moment, distracted by the gathering people watching this ridiculous scene unfold.
“Jackie, I don’t care what you did. I don’t care what you’ve been.” I step up to the rail and give him my full attention. “Baby, I will turn your ass red every night if that’s what you need. I love you, Jackie. If you need my belt to feel that love, then the belt it is!” I burst out in a fit of laughter as the people around him appear appalled and disgusted. Not sure if this is a confession of love or a threat, all I hear is love.
I throw my hands in the air in a declaration, “I love you, too, Tommy Clarke! Now, get up here and turn my ass red!”
THE END
Through the Ages
CHAPTER ONE
I had no idea when I woke up this morning that I would wind up in the hospital. Of course, I had been fighting this cold for a bit. It did seem to be a little worse than normal, but I went about my morning as usual despite the chills and nagging chest congestion and cough. The last thing I remember was walking in my front yard to cut some blooms from the perennial garden. I so love fresh flowers all over the house. I thought I would cut a fresh bouquet to liven up the dining room table and then rest a bit. Apparently, my neighbor spotted me flat on my back on the lawn, shears still grasped in my hand and blossoms strewn about. He called 911, and here I am. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes open for long periods, nor taken in what anyone has actually told me yet.
“Ms. Simms? Can you hear me?” I give a slight nod. “I’m Akiyo, your nurse today. Do you understand where you are?” I nod again. “You’ve got a bacterial pneumonia which has caused pleurisy. So you’ve probably been having trouble coughing and clearing your lungs?”
“Yes.” It whispers out.
“This has caused your oxygen levels to drop. We’ve got you on an IV for dehydration, including some pretty intensive antibiotics because your blood tests have shown that you have an infection that is resistant to the usual antibiotics that we use to treat pneumonia.”
I am uninterested in the details of it all. There is only one thing I want to know. “How long do I have to stay here?”
Her sweet face shows a bit of apprehension. “I..I’m not quite sure. It all depends on if…I mean, how you respond to treatment.”
“In all my years, I didn’t see it coming like this,” I wheeze out as I rock my head a little in the pillow.
“What do you mean Ms. Simms?” Akiyo asks as she checks my IV.
I laugh weakly, then cough, “Taken out by a cold?”
“Don’t talk like that. Besides, it’s pneumonia, not a cold,” she softly scolds as she straightens the blankets and sticks an electric thermometer in my ear. “We don’t make light of bacterial pneumonia, nor the additional infections and complications that arise with it. We’re taking every measure possible to help you fight this.”
I think to myself slightly amused, ‘I notice you didn’t say that I was going to be fine.’ I close my eyes. It’s so difficult to breathe, even with the nasal cannula pumping in oxygen.
“Do you have anyone that you would like us to call to let them know that you’re here?”
I open my eyes to answer her, “No, dear, there’s no one.”
Sympathy flashes in her eyes for only a moment. “Okay,” she pats my leg through the covers, “I’ll be back in a little while. Just press the button if you need anything. Rest, Ms. Simms.”
I am so tired and just that small bit of conversation has taken its toll. It’s the next day before I wake again.
“How are you feeling today, Ms. Simms,” Akiyo questions during her first round with me on this new day.
“It’s Libby, dear,” A sly grin spreads across my face, “and I woke up, so I’d say pretty good. Besides, whatever you’re dripping into me doesn’t hurt either.”
Akiyo chuckles, “I see you’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?”
I wink at her, “How old are you, dear?”
“Twenty-five, Ms. Libby,” Akiyo answers.
“You are quite a beautiful lady, Akiyo,” and I truly mean that when I say it. The young woman is slight, delicate with porcelain skin. Her chocolate, almond shaped eyes are framed by long, thick lashes. Lush peach lips display perfect white teeth when she smiles. Her heart shaped face is framed by shining coffee brown bangs and fringe. The rest is pulled back into a perfectly groomed pony tail. Perhaps, it’s the fact that she is my caretaker at the moment, and giving me such glorious meds, but she looks so angelic.
“Thank you.”
My laugh is labored, followed by a cough. “You know, I wasn’t always this old gal that you see here. No, I was vibrant, even beautiful if I dare say so.” I stare at the blue veins protruding beneath the tissue thinness of the pale skin of my hands.
“I’m sure you were Ms. Libby,” Akiyo replies with a grin as she marks numbers on a board on the wall before coming back to listen to my chest with her stethoscope. “Deep breath in…again,” she continues the exam. “Since you’re unable to cough properly or to get up some of this fluid on your own, we’re going to have a respiratory therapist come in to administer some chest percussion and postural drainage angling.” Akiyo sees the uncertainty in my face. “Don’t worry. It’s just angling your body and a soft pounding with cupped hands that helps move the mucus up. Most patients really like the way it feels, almost like a massage. Plus, it will help alleviate some of the fluids in your lungs and make breathing a little easier.” She resumes her examination. She repositions my gown and covers me with blankets.
“Do you have a boyfriend, husband, Akiyo?”
She grins, “No I don’t.”
It occurs to me that maybe I should be more politically correct in my good natured prying, “Oh, girlfriend then?”
She gives the cutest giggle, “No, not one of those either. I’m very much single, Ms. Libby. This job keeps me busy, and I don’t get to socialize very much.”
“That’s a shame. You’re so young and pretty. You should be out enjoying yourself with a boyfriend, girlfriend, one of each even, not working yourself to death. There’s an expression: ‘youth is wasted on the young,’ don’t let that happen to you.”
She just smiles that angelic smile and shrugs before telling me that the therapist will be in soon and to buzz if I need anything.
CHAPTER 2
I spend much of my time sleeping in a medicated haze. The super antibiotics not helping with the ill feelings. In truth, I don’t seem to be feeling much better. I believe I have slept through a day or perhaps two the next time I recognize that Akiyo is in the room.
As she injects another medication into my IV, Akiyo enquires, “May I ask you something, Ms. Libby?”
“Of course, and Akiyo, please just call me Libby.”
“I hap
pened to notice that you have a small tattoo on your hip, and…”
I interrupt her with a slight chuckle, “Oh that? That’s a long story.”
“Well, I’m always here,” she laughs, “and it seems we’re going to be spending some time together.”
“True,” I think back to that moment of being marked with the ink, “and it is a good story,” I arch one brow at Akiyo.
“I knew you were a feisty one, Libby. Go ahead and rest, and we’ll talk when I come back. Just buzz if you need anything.”
The cocktail Akiyo administered takes hold, and once again I drift off.
It seems my times of true lucidity are few and far between this first week. It’s much like being in a fog, my brain addled at times to what’s really taking place and remembering where I’m at, struggling for air most of the time. There are moments that I wonder if I will even wake up. I recall moments of people in and out of the room. Automatically responding to requests, being just awake enough to help move myself when they need to examine or tend to me. However, when Akiyo enters, I respond to her. There is something about her that I’m drawn to. It has been a long time since I’ve had a friend to share confidences with. Maybe it’s because I never had children of my own, or even nieces or nephews. Maybe it’s because there is something about her that reminds me of myself when I was young and innocent, but there is a certain impish gleam beneath. I cannot pinpoint what it is exactly, but I want to share things with her, memories, milestones.
“Akiyo, I told you that I’d share with you the story of my tattoo, didn’t I?”
“Only if you feel comfortable doing so. I didn’t mean to pry.” However, there is no mistaking the curiosity and the twinkle in her eyes when she asks, “Libby, may I ask you something, and I hope I’m not being too forward? I happened to look up the symbol on your hip. I’ve found it is the ‘Nŭ’ symbol, and I asked a relative if I had read the kanji correctly. Female slave?” Akiyo whispers the last part as she is checking my incision sites.