Cherry Blossoms

by KT Morrison

  “I have to tell you something...”

  “Oh no, Nia, what is it?”

  “We made out like that, on the bed...I was looking up at all the firemen shit, him fucking that big cock against my panties...on his metal cot...ah, deeper Geoff...give me every inch, please...”

  He drove himself deep now, his thrusts came urgently and she gasped with his intrusion. It drove him quicker. He fucked her, gently but quick. Rapid wet sounds came from their joined wet sex, flesh-slapping from his hips patting into her bottom.

  “Oh, that’s good, Geoff...oh, baby, he humped me through our pants...I felt, ah, felt his big cock right between my legs...he’s so big, Geoff...”

  “Nia, mmm-I’m going to come...oh...”

  “Geoff, he rubbed my pussy with his huge bulge and baby he made me...Geoff, he made me come right through my panties...”

  “Oh, ah, fuck, mm, Nia,” he grunted and his cock flexed and surged inside her, swelling and spewing his seed up inside his beautiful wife. He dug deep, pressed his hips to her as hard as he could and his bad girl thrust her bottom to him, wanted him deeper. She sighed and panted and he watched her pretty face in the mirror, her downturned mournful mouth as she came too.

  “Oh, Nia,” he gasped, watching her still, watching his love as she came out of her pleasure, her breaths heaved, her breasts swayed and she put a hand down between her legs and clenched herself where they were still joined.

  “Wow, Geoff. You really turned that around.”

  “We did. Fuck, that turns me on.”

  “It’s okay, Geoff. Baby, whatever works for you...”

  He kissed her back, kissed along her delicate shoulder blade, breathed in her hair. He stood then, put his hands on her bent over waist and he carefully slipped himself from inside her. They were sopping wet. She clutched herself as soon as he’d pulled out, didn’t want his come on the floor.

  She stood upright too, hand clasped between her legs, her cupped palm collecting his leaking semen, smiling at his reflection over her shoulder.

  “Was that true, Nia?”

  “Is that okay?” she whispered.

  “I guess,” he chuckled. “I don’t know anymore. Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  “I wasn’t keeping it from you. I was waiting for the right time. You were so mad the other day—”

  “I was so mad.”

  “You were being a little bitch,” she laughed.

  “I know I was. I knew it too at the time and I couldn’t stop myself. I’m sorry, Nia, this is so confusing to me, some—”

  “No, stop, I know, Geoff. I’m not out to hurt you. I want to keep going with this, I—”

  “You do?”

  She nodded, worried. “I do. But only in a way that works for you.”

  “What if I want to stop?”

  “I don’t, okay?” She turned to him, met him face to face, one arm around his waist, her other hand still clamping his seed inside her. “Geoff, this is powerful. This can work. We just have to find the way.”

  “I don’t want to stop, Nia. I got scared. I thought you were...it felt like you were doing it without me.”

  “I’m not, Geoff. I know how to make this work for us.”

  He bumped his forehead to hers, a little harder than he’d intended.

  “Ow,” she giggled.

  “Shower with me,” he said.

  GEOFF

  He and Odie got to his sister’s place in Agincourt by mid-morning. His sister lived in a four-bedroom suburban home on a lush green, tree-lined street much like the one they’d grown up on. Not far from their parents either. This part of Agincourt was predominately Chinese and Kelly and her two kids stood out in this friendly neighbourhood as the lone white family. She loved it here, moving in three years ago for a fresh start.

  “You ready?” he asked Odie.

  She sat in the Volvo’s passenger seat, staring at the well-manicured grey brick house with trepidation. She loved her aunt and she loved her cousins but there was a problem.

  “Yup,” she sighed, putting on a mock face of bravery.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  He couldn’t help smiling as his normally gallant girl got quiet and stood behind him as he unloaded her overnight bag from the back of the station wagon. He pulled the tent out, and then her sleeping bag. She took the sleeping bag and he carried the rest, tent thrown over his shoulder, and they headed along Kelly’s brick walkway lined with tiered flower gardens. Odie had convinced her cousins that they would camp out tonight and he’d warned his sister to be prepared for a lot of lessons in outdoor survival during her stay. She was taken with her time at the sleepaway camp.

  “You got my swim suit, Dad?” she asked as they got closer to the door. She was getting anxious now.

  “Yup,” he told her. His sister had a beautiful pool and they would set up their base camp by it, he was sure. Probably needed to be close to a water source or whatever they’d taught her up at Algonquin. “You ready?”

  “Yeah,” he heard her breathy sigh from behind him.

  He rang the doorbell and waited. There was an explosion of barking. Reggie. Kelly’s beloved fur-child. A high-strung and excitable Irish Setter. He was a well-cared for beauty with long silky coppery fur. But he scared the shit out of Odie. Much like his lovely Nia, his little girl was not a dog person. Geoff grew up with three different, practically interchangeable Cocker Spaniels. Reggie was fine but he loved his Odie with a capital L. He could come on a little strong.

  They could hear his nails shredding and scrambling over his sister’s hardwood on the other side of her custom honey-stained oak door. Then his body was hurtling against the wood. Bump. Bump. Geoff saw his sister’s warbled silhouette through the glass inset, getting closer to answer. Knew she wouldn’t do much to control her little ball of crazy sunshine.

  Metallic click as the door opened then swung wide. Odie was already flinching. He’d told her a million times it was good to be wary of dogs. Never trust them. But Reggie was her friend. He wouldn’t hurt her on purpose. Just be nice and let him sniff you. But Reggie was not just a sniffer. He was a bumper, a prodder, a licker, a paws on your shoulders kind of dog. And that’s what he did now.

  Odie hunched her shoulders up high and scrunched her face up tight as could be. Reggie jumped and licked and Odie stayed strong for a good ten seconds. He licked her face, put his paws up on her, jumped down, ran around her, poked her in the bottom, ran around to the front and did it all over again Odie held her breath.

  “Okay, okay,” Geoff said, wishing his sister would intervene but she loved that dog and she loved the show he put on. Kelly stood at the front door watching her niece fall victim to her favourite creature, smile spread across her pretty face. Kelly was two years older than him, smart and driven, athletic and generally one of the happier people he knew. Especially since the divorce. “Reggie, okay, Reggie,” Geoff said, getting down on his hands and knees and putting his arms in between Odie and the dog. For whatever reason Reggie only cared about Odie, determined to make her love him like he thought everybody else did. He paid Geoff barely any notice, licked his hand once, desperate eyes locked on his nervous daughter.

  Kelly laughed now and took Reggie inside by his collar. “Get in there, dumbo,” she said, giving him a fake boot in the butt. Odie winced and peaked at her dad to see if it was safe. She cocked her head and chastised him with her eyes like, Couldn't you have helped a little sooner? He smiled and stuck his tongue out at her, she did the same while wiping the slobber off her cheeks.

  “Oh, Odie,” Kelly said and bent down to hug her, holding her coffee cup out and away.

  “Hi, Aunt Kelly,” she said and squeezed her favourite aunt very tight around her strong broad back.

  “Odie, you’re getting so big, you’re as big as Tucker.”

  “You look good, Kelly,” Geoff said and he kissed her cheek when she stood. She did look good. Blonde hair tied up in a spiky bun, bare muscular legs below a feathery
cotton night dress with colourful moose printed on it. She looked a lot younger than him and a lot more healthy.

  “Tucker! Emmett!” She yelled over her shoulder and Geoff’s two nephews came in through the house from the backyard in just Hawaiian print jams, tan and fit, sliding the glass door and barreling through the dining room jockeying to be the first to hug Uncle Geoff. He met them both with open arms and gave them big hugs together and asked them how they were doing and they told him all sorts of things about little league. Tucker was seven like Odie and Emmett was almost six. Nia and Kelly had been pregnant together and they got along really well back then, especially since Kelly was in the city when she was married.

  “All right, kiddo,” he said to Odie, “take your things...boys, get Odie settled...”

  Tucker and Emmett grabbed her stuff and Odie looked quite pleased to have herself two male servants at her beck and call. They were telling her where they were going to set up the tent, talking and walking, Odie’s things clutched to their narrow chests, and Geoff thought, Yeah right, you’ll put it where she says to put it, guys.

  Geoff laughed watching his daughter walking behind them, knowing she was going to be diplomatic at first but once she got the lay of the land she’d decide where that tent was going to go, and that’s where it would go. They exited out through the sliding glass door, Reggie running along behind, still interested in Odie but hanging back, and then it was quiet again.

  “Whew,” Kelly said, “looks like I'm in for some weekend. You want a coffee, buddy?”

  “Sure,” he said, kissed her again and walked past her into her front hall.

  “Why are you so happy?” she eyed him, pretending to be annoyed by his pleasant demeanour.

  “Mm—I don’t know. Good morning, I guess...” he said and couldn’t help a devious smile.

  She looked at him, eyes split and skeptical. “I don’t want to know,” she said, both hands around her coffee cup.

  He walked into her house and put an exaggerated spring in his step. He made his way to her kitchen, stopped and leaned on her counter. He teased her, smiling and rocking on his heels, hands tucked into his waistband.

  “Gross,” she said, turned her nose up at him. “How is my Nia?” she asked. His sister harboured an unabashed girl-crush on his wife.

  “She’s good, work’s good.” He turned now and poured himself a cup of coffee from her pot. “This fresh?”

  “Yeah. I’m proud of you, Mister New York City.”

  He shrugged, her saying it made him nervous. “How’s Trish?”

  “She’s great, she’s away in Kuala Lumpur on business. She’ll be home tonight.”

  “Good,” he said. Since his sister’s divorce she’d been in a relationship with a nice woman who was good to her. She worked as a lawyer for a retail corporation. “Odie loves her.”

  “So, Laetitia Lily, huh?” she prompted, making her voice annoying on purpose, sensing his discomfort in talking about his impending meeting in the biggest of the big leagues.

  “Yes, Kelly. Maybe.”

  “Hey, man,” she said and came to him. She set her coffee on the counter and put a hand over his back. “You deserve it, kid, you work so hard.”

  “Thanks,” he said. “How's Mom and Dad?”

  “They’re fine. When’s the last time you talked to them?”

  “Last month, I guess. Mom came down and stayed overnight with me—”

  “Oh, I know, I heard all about it...”

  “Really? What did you hear?” he asked, knowing probably what was said.

  “I heard all the complaining.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Like what?”

  “Like how Nia wasn't there, how you had to eat out for dinner, and Nia didn't come home. She was up north with a bunch of men and you went up to see her and left Mom with Odie...”

  He laughed, “That’s all true.”

  “And you didn't come home until the middle of the night...”

  “Oh, brother.”

  “I know,” she said, sipped her coffee. “She thinks you're having money trouble.”

  “Money trouble? I just bought a BMW.”

  “Bought?”

  “Well, leased.”

  She sipped her coffee, said, “Dad says thanks.”

  “For what?”

  She went to the fridge and got out a yogurt container, said over her shoulder, “For taking Mom, he had a great weekend...you want a yogurt?”

  He laughed at his dad, said, “No thanks, I should get going to the airport. Yogurt’s not going to sit well with me and my nerves right now.”

  “You don’t want to shit your guts out into a metal toilet a mile in the sky?”

  “No way.”

  “I can make you something else...”

  “No, thanks, Kelly, really, we ate on the road.”

  She peeled the foil top off her yogurt and took a spoonful out of it, paused, said, “What’s my Nia doing this weekend with you gone?”

  His nervous stomach took another tumble, grabbed the blankets in its nauseous bed and rolled over on to its other feverish side. She’d said she was doing nothing, but who knew with her. Plans could change real fast. He could come home to a wonderfully devastating tale. Or just plain devastating. Or nothing. “Work, and then who knows...”

  She put the spoon in her mouth, said around it, “You tell her she’s bored, she can come up here and party with me and Trish.” She winked and smiled.

  Everyone wanted a piece of his beautiful wife.

  24

  No Show

  Friday, August 11th

  GEOFF

  Sparrow House took him for an expensive lunch at Trattoria dell’Arte. He ordered a grilled yellowfin tuna steak and a tomato caprese. Laetitia Lily was a no show. It was too good to be true any way.

  He was sitting now at a glass-top wicker table for four with Tim Lonergan and Krista Falkenberg by a rustic beaten fireplace the restaurant filled with fresh flowers over the summer. He’d met at the offices promptly at 11 A.M. They’d sent a car to pick him up from his hotel. He couldn’t believe they would send a car. He doodled kid’s stuff. Regardless, they’d also booked him a room at the Millennium Broadway and the car collected him at ten-thirty and drove him to their offices at Sparrow Tower. Tim was some sort of executive there for the publisher. He was polished and professional, wearing a silvery grey suit and black polo, steel wireframe glasses and a steel watch. Salt and pepper hair with a touch more salt, he’d probably be late-fifties. He had confident eyes but a strange, tight, deep cornered smile. Friendly enough. Krista was probably his own age. An established editor and he recognized her name but had never seen her face. She was pretty, dressed up in an intimidatingly hip manner. Intense intelligent blue eyes behind oversized tortoiseshell glasses. She wore a khaki chino skirt and a chambray shirt and oxblood loafers. She stunk of heavenly Ivy League.

  They’d walked here from the Tower, coming along West 57th and then down 7th at the foot of Central Park. He thought Toronto was busy. He was never short of amazement coming to New York and seeing the increasing bustle. Now the niceties were done—the introductions at the office, the how was your trips? They’d got friendly on the walk in the sunshine, ordered their food and now it was time for business.

  Tim put his hand on Krista’s forearm and said, “I’ve worked with Krista since she first came here. She’s amazing. I have to be honest...she hasn’t been more excited about an illustrator.” He sat back in his wicker chair and let Krista talk.

  She said, “He’s right. I’ve watched for a while. I love Choo. I think what’s happening there is really tremendous. You have a lot of energy, but its kind and approachable. It’s detailed too. Which you don’t often see in kid’s books.”

  “Thanks,” he said, sipped his water. Waiting for the bottom line.

  “I’ve watched you on TV. I want to break you out of illustration. I want to see you as a storyteller. The words and the pictures as one.”

  “You do?
”

  “Why don’t you tell us a little about the book you would do for us?” She sat back now like Tim.

  “Is that okay? Can I tell you?” Wondering if he should make them sign a NDA, but no one else was offering him anything like this.

  She nodded.

  He inhaled, shook his nerves out, sighed, said, “Listen, I’m a thirty-four-year-old guy with a seven-year-old daughter, and she’s everything to me.” They listened intently, like they were enjoying what they heard, but serious too, not pleasant. Studying him, watching his every move. He stopped playing with his knife. He looked around the busy, noisy restaurant, all the happy faces, boisterous rich people. “My book would be about fathers and daughters.” His face went naturally pained. Discomfort at expressing ideas to a real live audience.

  He pressed on. His face flushed, nervous at their callous yet friendly demeanour. He told them all his philosophies, his notions of what it was like for a young man to raise a little girl in this modern age. His throat grew dry and by the time he’d explained the shape of his love for his little daughter his water glass was empty, a curved wedge of lemon beached on bare glass. He was on a frenzied, sped up autopilot, bringing his iPad up out of its leather case, showing them the concepts he’d been working on. Showing how his daughter and he could come together with art and creativity. Nurturing and yet having a respect for her natural talent and her desire to express herself. He showed compositions he’d mocked up of his style working within Odie’s crazy compositional scribbles. He worked with her palette, he worked with her innate sense of design. He told them how this was just concept, that the true heart in the book would be in their mutual endeavour. A father holding his daughter, stepping out of her way, showing her how to touch her own heart and communicate that through her careful tiny fingers.

  He saw himself from above. An overzealous mad artist babbling about his daughter. He was sweating. His face was shiny and he knew it. He was talking too fast. They must think he was ridiculous. He fizzled.

  He sat back now, emptied, disheartened by their blank blinking faces. “So that's...that's what I'm passionate about right now. That’s what I want to do.” His hand returned to the flat stainless knife and nervously flipped it over and over.