Riding Lies

by Eshkar Erblich-Brifman

  Everyone laughs and gets into ready position, preparing to leave. Koby tells her to go to the back of the line and asks Erez, the longest-standing member of the group, to keep an eye on her.

  And they’re off. It feels different. She’s still enjoying it, but she can’t decide whether she likes it more or less. Maybe it doesn’t matter, the main thing is she’s having fun. She misses having Koby to herself, but on the other hand she knows that it’s not instead of private lessons, at long as she can afford them, or as long as Dror, who sticks his nose into everything, will allow. If he dares to say something, she’ll fight back and stand her ground. She deserves this!

  She’s breathless by the time they finish the trail. She’s not used to going the whole way without a break, without all his attention being focused on her. She has to take everyone else into consideration.

  She sits on a freezing limestone rock. The alternative is the muddy ground. Her body’s sweaty. She’s feeling both hot and cold. A shiver runs down her spine.

  “What do you say, a café or coffee from the finjan?” an attractive woman asks.

  She scrutinizes her with mild dislike, or maybe she’s just jealous. She wishes she had her body, and her confidence. They look the same age.

  The group chooses Koby’s finjan. No one has the time or the inclination to go looking for an open café on Friday afternoon in Jerusalem, when the religious shut almost everything down.

  Erez grabs two six-packs of beer from the trunk and places them in the middle. Orly apologizes and says she really has to go. She loads her bike on her car, starts the engine and disappears.

  Someone by the name of Hadas takes out a cheesecake and a knife. Noga volunteers to slice it. How did she not think of bringing anything? she reproaches herself; she could bring a homemade cake every week and be showered with praise. She smiles to herself and remembers how she recently brought Koby a fresh banana cake. He couldn’t stop thanking her and even sent her a picture in the evening of the children eating the cake. How she laughed. Noam asked her not to put nuts in next time. She agreed and said she’d spoil him and add chocolate chips instead.

  Tomorrow’s another day. She’ll make one cake for home, and another for Koby’s gang. They’re so delightful. She still hasn’t met Elad, but she’s seen pictures of him. He’s all grown up, with one foot in the army. Koby hasn’t met Ido yet either. She wishes she could arrange a get together on a Saturday, when Ido is also home, but Dror is around on Saturdays and she has no idea how to get rid of him.

  Koby hands her a small cup of Turkish coffee. She can smell cardamom. She smiles and thanks him.

  He winks at her, making her feel special for a moment. And then he goes over to Orly, and then Noga. So what, she doesn’t care. There’s a difference between personal attention and an intimate kiss, like they shared in the last session.

  He sent her a message the day he kissed her, saying, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  She almost fainted. She sent a short reply, “Me too,” and quickly deleted them all, just in case. It’s not that Dror looks through her phone. It doesn’t interest him in the least., he’s interested only in himself.

  The coffee is very hot and she finds it comforting. She feels the dark liquid going down her throat and into her stomach, warming her body. She takes a piece of cheesecake and tells Hadas that it’s delicious. Hadas laughs and says she’ll pass the compliment on to the bakery.

  One of the men pulls out two packets of chocolate-flavored wafers. She smiles. She feels like she’s on an annual school trip. Her children eat wafers like those, as do the children at preschool, every birthday party. Luckily no one brought marshmallows.

  She looks around and although this is her first group ride, she feels like she belongs.

  ***

  At four o’clock on Sunday she arrives at Koby’s apartment with Nadav, Neta and a fresh apple cake. His children are there, too. They climb up the old staircase. There’s no elevator. In fact, it’s exactly like their apartment, which they don’t pay a penny for since it belongs to Dror’s parents. For years now, Dror has refused to move. She dreams of an open kitchen, a spacious living room, an entrance hall, and perhaps even a small balcony. But they have to save. They have to make do with what they have. It makes no sense to leave a free apartment. Or at least, that’s what Dror has been claiming since they inherited it when Neta was born. They’ve been living in that terrible apartment for fifteen years, with its ugly spotty floor tiles, pealing Formica cabinets and tiny bathroom.

  Five years ago, Dror agreed to change the kitchen cabinet doors, from one Formica to another. But they, too, have started to discolor and peel.

  Shaked opens the door with a bright smile. “Come to my room!” she drags Nadav behind her with a giggle and he skips merrily along after her. Neta is more hesitant and just stands there in the hall with her.

  She walks in holding the cake. The whole stairwell is infused with its intoxicating aroma. Apple and cinnamon.

  “You’ve brought me another cake?” Koby appears emerges from his bedroom.

  “Always,” she shrugs, handing him the cake.

  “You’re one of a kind,” he says and holds the warm cake up to his nose, “I’ll make coffee for us, and then we’ll cut it.”

  He walks to the kitchen, telling them to feel at home, to make themselves comfortable in the living room.

  It takes her a few minutes to get used to the mess. Her home may be dated but it’s always clean and tidy. You can see this is a man’s apartment. A woman’s touch wouldn’t hurt here, she thinks to herself and sits on the edge of the sofa. Neta huddles beside her.

  “Koby, where is Noam?” she shouts to him.

  “Noam!” Koby roars, causing Noam to leave his room. He apologizes. He had earphones on and didn’t hear them come in. He invites her to his room, even though it’s terribly crammed and he has no idea where they’ll sit.

  “I brought cake, Noam!” she peers around from the sofa.

  “Banana and chocolate?” he asks.

  “Apple and cinnamon,” she says and can sense his disappointment.

  “Thanks, Anat,” he says and adds, “be careful, we could easily get used to being pampered this way…”

  She laughs and says, “It’s my pleasure.”

  Koby returns with two cups of coffee and sets them on the dusty table in the living room. She inspects the table curiously. A straw basket with whole walnuts in it, which probably dried out long ago. Three textbooks, a few pens, one lone sock. A packet of Kleenex, an empty chocolate wrapper. She looks away, afraid to embarrass Koby.

  There’s a pile of laundry on the sofa beside her.

  “I don’t fold clothes,” he explains, “there’s not much point in bothering to put them back in the closet if in any case we take them out immediately to wear them again…”

  She smiles understandingly and he returns to the kitchen to get a knife for the cake.

  “Where’s Elad?” she asks and he says that he’s at to a friend. “He’ll be back later.”

  He sits down next to her. “You’re so sweet for coming,” he says and touches her knee lightly.

  She smiles but pulls away. The children are right next door. “Do your children each have their own room?” she asks interestedly, and he says that he wishes, the apartment’s very cramped but that’s just how it is at the moment and the children have learned to get along. Shaked has a small room to herself and the boys share.

  “Mom, we’re going to a movie,” Neta returns to the living room with a smile.

  “What, now?” she’s surprised, “But we’ve only just arrived!”

  “Yes, but it’s a movie we both want to see and it starts in half an hour…come on, Mom, it’s a few minutes’ walk from here! What’s the problem?”

  “Fine, fine, go, if it’s okay with Koby, of course…”

&nb
sp; “Yes, sure, no problem…” Koby says and cuts the cake, “we’ll have more peace and quiet,” he adds with a wink.

  She takes money from her wallet and hands it to Neta. “Is that enough?”

  “I think so,” Neta says, “we’ll get popcorn too.”

  “You have your phone, right?” she verifies.

  “Of course,” Neta rolls her eyes and waves a small purse with a big pink pompom swinging from the end.

  Noam stands beside her and zips up his coat. “Bye Dad,” he says.

  “You see?” Koby laughs, “they don’t ask for my permission for anything…they just say goodbye.”

  She laughs, “Take some cake for the road,” she suggests.

  “No need,” Neta responds, “they have popcorn there.”

  “Have fun,” Koby says and asks Noam if he has money. Noam says yes and opens the door.

  “Bye, Mom,” Neta says.

  “Enjoy yourselves, sweeties,” she says goodbye, still surprised at the burst of spontaneity. She wishes she could be like that.

  They shut the door behind them and she listens to their laughter and steps echoing through the stairwell.

  “Is he always so busy?” she asks, sipping her coffee.

  Koby laughs. “He’s fifteen, you know. When will he have fun if not now?”

  “There’s something to that,” she agrees, “Neta likes hanging around the mall with friends, but usually it’s a bit more planned.”

  “Does it bother you, that they went out together?” he asks and takes a bite of cake.

  “Not really,” she smiles, “it just surprised me, that’s all.”

  “Surprises are good,” he asserts, “we need to leave our comfort zone now and then, emerge from the lethargic state we can find ourselves in, just going through a routine that puts us to sleep.”

  He’s right, she knows. What a refreshing perspective he has, on almost everything in life. She studies his face, his perfect lips. She hopes he’ll kiss her again.

  He compliments her on the cake and adds that if we spice things up a bit, then we wouldn’t be so tired either. It’s a circle that feeds itself. Fatigue stems from boredom, from routine. People need diversity. Riding gives him so much. After the ugly divorce he went through, a whole new life began for him, a life he never knew. Until then he’d been dormant, and now something inside him had awakened.

  She wishes, she thinks and nods empathetically, she also wants a new life.

  Shaked and Nadav ask if they can go down to the playground. The room is too small and they feel like playing ball.

  “Is that all right with you?” Koby asks and adds with a wink, “or is it too spontaneous?”

  She laughs, “Is it nearby?”

  “Just at the end of the street. They don’t even have to cross a road.”

  “Okay,” she accedes, “but take a coat!” she tells Nadav, “And be back before it’s completely dark.”

  Shaked carries the ball, Nadav, with blatant reluctance, puts on his coat, the door once again opens and closes, and then they hear the children skipping down the stairs.

  “What can I do,” he shrugs, “my home’s not as good as yours. The children run away from here at every opportunity.”

  He gets up and locks the door, and when he comes back, he sits beside her, much closer than before.

  “The beauty of it all,” he adds, “is that now we have some privacy.”

  She smiles, her heart racing. She debates whether to let him make the first move, or if she can summon enough courage to kiss him herself.

  “I missed you,” he whispers and leans toward her.

  “Me too,” she whispers back. Her hands stroke his cheeks, and they connect, as if magnetically drawn, his lips are on hers, and he gives her a soft, long kiss, as gentle as can be.

  “You’re amazing,” he whispers as he opens her mouth with his. She responds, and her eyes close. She lets go of her thoughts. The children are elsewhere. The door is locked. She gasps, feeling the fire in her veins. When was the last time she kissed so ardently?

  Slowly, he lays her back on the sofa, keeping his lips on hers. His feet trample the pile of laundry and a few socks drop to the carpet. He lies on top of her and kisses her neck, then her earlobes. She can feel his erection on her thigh. She wants to scream. He reaches under her shirt and strokes her breast through her bra. She tightens her lips, stopping herself from shouting.

  “I want you so badly,” he whispers and with his other hand, he undoes her bra and releases her imprisoned breasts. He slides his hand in and touches her large, soft, slightly droopy breasts, her erect nipples. For a moment she recoils, wondering what he’ll say, what he’ll think, of the old bra, of her breasts that have seen better days.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asks quietly, “Do you want us to stop?”

  She shakes her head no, never.

  “You dictate the pace,” he says as he strokes her hair, “I don’t want to rush you.”

  “You’re not,” she gasps, “but the children will be back soon…”

  He clings tightly to her. She can feel him beating between her legs, his erection above her, her legs apart. He’s almost inside her. Only layers of clothes separate them. She wants him. She knows this clearly. He is the realization of her dream: a good-looking man of her age who desires her. It’s quite something.

  And then he reaches down to her pants button and opens it, pulls down the zipper, moves her plain cotton panties to the side and penetrates her with his finger. She bites her lips hard. For an instant, she thinks about what he said before, about leaving your comfort zone, about waking up. If only she’d imagined how this afternoon would develop, she’d have shaved her legs. She won’t let him take her pants off. She’s too embarrassed. In any case there’s no time, the children could appear at any moment, and Elad…how long have they been like this, lying on the sofa in the living room?

  He touches her, and her thoughts become a blur, her sex is throbbing and she feels her vagina throbbing and wet. Her pulse rises, her gasps become rhythmic and fast, her toes pull up, her muscles contract. She’s focused on herself, savoring the new, unfamiliar sensations overwhelming her. Waves of pleasure wash over her and she moans, again and again, stopping herself from screaming. He notices and puts his hand over her mouth, trying to restrain her, so no one will hear. Her eyes are closed and his fingers are still inside her, until he’s sure she’s climaxed.

  Slowly, her breathing becomes normal and her eyes open. “What did you do to me?” she whispers, and he laughs, takes his wet fingers out of her and kisses her long and soft on the lips.

  “And what about you?” she asks considerately and hastily snaps her bra shut, pulls up her zipper and buttons up her pants before the children return. Her panties are soaked. She wonders if she has a pantyliner in her purse.

  “Do you feel like helping me?” he asks in a whisper.

  She looks down at his pants, which are about to burst. “Yes, of course,” she answers, a bit sheepishly, “but the children.”

  “I need three minutes,” he smiles and opens his button and zipper. She can see his erection and his balls through his gray underpants. For a moment she’s hypnotized. She’s never seen anyone other than Dror. She tries not to compare. Dror wouldn’t stand a chance at winning.

  With some hesitation, she reaches her hand into his underpants and touches it. It’s hard and warm. Will she be good enough, she wonders. All her experience amounts to only one man, and she’s not sure of herself. Dror doesn’t seem to be particularly sexually satisfied, or at all, come to think of it.

  He guides her, helps her, holds her hand as she clasps him, moving it rapidly up and down. She moves with him, learning, doing as he wishes, wanting to please him the way he just pleased her. He gasps and gives a short groan. She doesn’t release him. He contracts and spurts warm,
yellow come into her hand, splattering in short, powerful bursts. He starts to go limp and she lets go, but she keeps her fist clenched, so it won’t drip. What now? What if the children return now?”

  “You’re fantastic,” he grins and leans toward the table for the Kleenex. She smiles, surprised, stunned by herself, and asks where she can wash her hands.

  He points her toward the bathroom.

  As she washes her hands with soap, scrubbing them well to remove any hint of a smell, she steals a glance at her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks are red and sweaty. She decides to wash her face too, trying to erase the embarrassing blush.

  She looks for a towel and notices black mold stains covering the caulk between the shower walls and the ceramic tiles. A bit of bleach spray wouldn’t do any harm here, she notes to herself. She’ll just ask him if he has any, and if not, she’ll bring some with her the next time. The place really could do with a woman’s touch, that’s for sure. And now, after touching him and allowing him to touch her, she can also allow herself to touch the apartment here and there. He certainly knows his way around a woman’s body, but when it comes to his home—he seems lost, insecure. She’ll help him, she decides, she’ll take this apartment on, like a project. She loves helping.

  “Will you stay to eat?” he asks when she emerges from the bathroom.

  Her face and hands are still dripping water. She couldn’t find a towel. She looks at him and then at the sofa. There’s no trace of what just happened between them. They’re both dressed and even the color of her face is normal. She bends down to pick up the socks that had fallen on the floor earlier. He catches her arm and when she stands up, he says to her, “I don’t know how to stop thinking about you.”

  She strokes the soft bristles on his cheeks and says, “Then don’t.”

  Someone plays with the door handle and tries to insert the key. He gives her a loving look and goes to open the door.