by Gabi Moore
He set them to one side.
“Just kiss me” he said, and soon my head was cradled in his strong hands. I giggled and he kissed my smiling mouth.
“You taste like beer,” I said.
“No, that’s talking, baby, I want you to be kissing…” He pulled me in for another kiss. I giggled and kissed him. His lips were sweet and soft and silky and delicious.
“But the salmon is getting cold!” I said, pulling out of his grasp to dash off into the kitchen.
He followed me slowly to the oven and watched me with a quizzical expression, then came up behind me and laced his arms around my waist, nuzzling his warm breath into the crook of neck.
“The salmon can wait,” he purred.
I laughed and slapped him away.
“No, it can’t, it’s already icy cold. I’ve also made these special honey-glazed carrots, too, they have cognac in the sauce, isn’t that fancy?”
“Baby,” he laughed, “step away from the spoon. The salmon can wait.” He took both of my hands in his.
A lump gathered in my throat to see him do it. It wasn’t what I thought it was, I knew it, it was too soon to expect that, of course. I knew not to get too excited and all, but I did, I admit it did make me think of him, you know, proposing.
I smiled at him. He smiled back. God, did he know how to smile at a girl.
He leaned in for a kiss and then he reached one of his oversized hands to rest on the fold of my hip. Still holding the dripping spoon, I kissed back and then realized: he was hard. He pressed his hipbones into mine and groaned softly as he sucked my lower lip, then squeezed my waist.
I sighed. “Ah, so that’s what you want…”
He started to kiss up and down my neck, warm breath and cool, wet kisses, pinning me against the kitchen cupboards with his broad, strong frame.
“No, no, please, tell me about these carrots,” he laughed. “This beautiful woman standing right in front of me is just a distraction, you know, what I really want is a piece of those damn carrots…”
I slapped his arm. I tried to put the spoon on the counter without making any mess.
“I love you, Sophia,” he breathed, and collapsed warm onto me. He seldom said those words. Not like that anyway.
He dragged me off to the bedroom.
“The salmon…”
“Fuck the salmon.”
He turned on the bedroom light, looked momentarily surprised by the strewn rose petals, but instantly grabbed me and laid me roughly down on top of them.
His touch felt warm. Familiar. Safe. I let my head fall back a little and closed my eyes as his heavy hands pawed over me. To be honest, I wasn’t terribly in the mood. It was late, I was tired from work, and I just wanted us to have a nice time together. But it was his birthday. I pulled him down and planted a big kiss on his lips and soon he had wriggled out of his shirt, and then began to peel mine off, too.
“Ouch,” I said, and moved his leg to stop it from pinching at the skin of my knee.
“Oops, sorry. You OK?”
I smiled at him. We kissed again, this time more gently. We had a smooth, happy rhythm, an old routine that we both knew well by now. It worked for us.
He turned me over onto my back and in one smooth movement had gently pulled apart my legs. He got to work, doing just what he knew I liked. Slow, unrushed. Respectful. Communicative.
“A little harder,” I said. He went a little harder. I tried to close my eyes and sink deeper into the moment, and soon I found it: that delicious, hot sensation welling up juicy and wet inside me. I ground my hips and smiled to myself. Here we go. I buried my fingers in his thick, sandy hair and ground my now-swollen clit against his generous tongue. He moaned and lifted my hips up to him, working over my body with smooth, syrupy motions, slowly licking me into a frenzy. I could feel his thick cock brush against my naked leg. I squeezed my eyes shut and let myself get carried away.
“Baby I want you inside me,” I said at last, which is our usual cue for him to flip me over onto my belly, tilt up my ass cheeks and kneel over me so he can slide his cock in and down into me, pinning me into the bed and pouring his body weight down into me as I cradle the pillows.
He did exactly this. I could no longer see the toned V of his torso or the thick interlocking muscles of his biceps as they flow into the veins of his forearms and wrists, but I could now feel them.
Splaying my legs wide to let him in deeper, he plunged down and in, down and in, each time sinking to the hilt into me and lifting my body slightly off the bed with each upward thrust, grinding against some deep, sweet spot inside me that always, without fail, made me come hard and long.
Something about the pressure of his cock inside me, something about how I was effectively pinned by him, held firm under his body, something about feeling the muscled flat of his abs against my upturned ass …it always did things to me.
But not today.
He slid in deep and pulled out slow again, in deep and then out slow, and I knew he was relishing the sight of me, relishing watching his dick melt into my body and emerge again, slick. I knew he liked that. I knew he liked grabbing a handful of ass and pulling back to reveal that sweet, naughty place where we connected. It felt good. Of course it felt good. But …not that good.
I felt myself staring at the unlit candle on the bedside table, and feeling …not bored, exactly. No, I wasn’t bored, that wasn’t how I was at all. But I wasn’t anything.
I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus on the sweet words he was now breathing into my ear, as he folded forward and rested his heavy chest all along the length of my back. Ordinarily, I’d have come already. I’d have clenched down hard against his thrusting cock and waited helplessly as the waves of my orgasm pumped through my hips and shook me, and he’d wedge in deeper, growl with satisfaction, squirt inside and then collapse on me, sweat slicking our bodies together.
But not today.
I turned my head to the side and caught his eye. My long brown hair draped over my blue eye as I peered up at him. Mouth open, sideways smile on his face, he gazed down lovingly at me, and all at once, without losing eye contact, his face twisted and contorted.
“Fuck …baby, I’m…”
I thrust up my hips to meet him and quicken the pace.
“Come baby,” I mumbled into the pillow.
He gripped my ass cheeks hard and clenched his jaw, and I watched as his pecs and ab muscles rippled and tightened as he lost control. He ploughed deeper into me, roared out loud and rammed one, then two, and finally three hot spurts of cum into me, pulling out with a shudder on the last thrust and collapsing into relived giggles on my back.
“Fuck yes… I’ve been waiting all day to do that…” he cooed into my ear.
I twisted over and embraced him, and we held each other a little as his breath became regular and the red flush disappeared from his chest.
“But you…?”
“I’m fine,” I said quickly.
“You didn’t…”
“Nah, it’s OK, I’m just tired,” I said, and tried to avoid his gaze. Sure, I was a little annoyed that he had blustered in, used to me to get off and only now was considering what I wanted out of the deal. But that was silly. I had nothing to be unhappy about. Nothing at all.
“You don’t want…” he said and started to trace his fingers back to the inside of my thigh.
“Baby, no, I’m fine” I said and sat up quickly. I needed to clean up.
“Ok, well, do you wanna have some salmon and carrots?” he said and gave me a goofy, lopsided grin. I laughed, leaned forward and gave him a big, loud kiss on his forehead.
“Yeah, there’s dessert, too,” I said and we got up and scrambled for our clothes.
We went back into the kitchen and chatted and kissed and started to heat up the food again. For some reason, I no longer had much of an appetite, though.
Chapter Three – Leo
“Leo! Oh my god, Leo, thank you so much!”
&nbs
p; Groggy, I peeled my eyes open and rubbed them, trying to find the source of the sound. Sophia’s shrill voice came from somewhere else in the house. I sat up in bed, the morning light streaming onto the crumpled pillows beside me, and looked down the hall. The two cats, rolled up in the duvet with me, each blinked one eye at the noise and then went back to sleep.
“Sophia?”
It had been a strange night. Confused, I got up, went down the hall and saw her stooping at the front door, bending over to fuss with something on the floor.
She turned around, a giant bowl of extravagant flowers in her arms, and a huge smile plastered on her face.
“You got me flowers! Leo, they’re beautiful!”
She waddled up to me, leaned in close so that the lilies pressed a bit of yellow powder onto my bare chest, and gave me a chaste peck on the cheek.
But I hadn’t sent her any flowers.
I sat, staring at her for a while, eyebrows kinked.
“I’ll go and put these in some water” she said, and made her way to the kitchen.
Just as I started to wonder if they had delivered flowers to the wrong girl, my phone buzzed from inside the room. I went to get it.
Wish your girl a happy birthday from me
I stared in horror at the message from a number I didn’t recognize. I heard Sophia opening and closing cabinet doors in the kitchen. I swiftly closed the bedroom door behind me and stood with my back to it. Then I hit “dial” and held the phone to my ear, fingers shaking with rage.
“Hello?”
“Who the hell is this?” I hissed. I could almost hear a smile through the phone line.
“What? You don’t recognize me? It’s your old friend,” the voice said, so casual it seemed sinister.
“Uncle Vito?”
“What, you think it’s the Easter bunny?” he laughed drily.
I swallowed so hard it was nearly painful.
“I’m not interested in any deal or any arrangement or anything. I haven’t seen you in years.”
“So? Family’s family.”
“You’re not family. Jesus,” I mumbled.
I couldn’t shake the images I had seen of him in the media, the snapshots of bloody murder scenes, the laundering accusations, the corruption. And now he was here, in my shaking hands. In my bedroom.
“In any case, I’m down a few men. What can I say, loyalty is thin on the ground these days. I need some new blood. Good men. I need someone without any history. Someone I can trust.”
Had he always had that ridiculous TV gangster accent? For some reason, it sounded so much thicker now than I remembered it, all those years ago. Those years when I was so desperate I had clung to anything that looked like a solution. Even if that thing was none other than Vito Roselli.
“No,” I said, and did nothing to fill up the silence after it. He grumbled into the line.
“OK, kiddo, look. You’re a businessman, right? I know you understand money. So I’m going to put this in terms you’ll understand. How much do you want?”
I heard a cupboard door slam again as Sophia rummaged around in the kitchen, completely unawares. I had to end this call.
“I don’t care about money,” I said, looking at Sophia’s crumpled underwear lying on the floor. “I said no. The past is the past. I’ve moved on.” I couldn’t even imagine what a guy like him could want from someone like me.
“Ah …it’s the girl?”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“You leave her alone.”
Silence.
I knew what Vito had done. Everyone knew. And I knew what he was capable of doing. But I didn’t give a shit.
“And if you ever come around to my house again I’ll personally come after you myself and so help me y—”
I was cut short by his amused laughter.
“Kid! Kid, relax! Ha, you always were like that, weren’t you? So feisty. Man, I remember now,” he said, still laughing. My face burnt.
“Baby?” Sophia yelled from the kitchen. “Baby, do you know where that vase is? Not the round one but the long, tall one?”
“I don’t know! Just a second!” I yelled, covering up the phone for a moment, then leaning in to speak again.
“Don’t fucking go near her.”
“Listen, Leo. I’m not gonna do anything to your girl. Fuck. In any case, if she really knew who you were, she’d leave on her own, right?”
I could hear the smile in his voice again.
“I’m a different person now,” I whispered.
“She doesn’t know about you, does she?”
“Doesn’t know what? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You know what the trouble with the younger generation is, Leo? It’s that you guys only know how to take. Only ever on the lookout for what you can get out of people. But when it comes to making a contribution? Well…”
I was stunned. Vito Roselli was lecturing me about contribution. And more stunning than that, I wondered if he could possibly be right.
“I was just a kid.”
“And now you’re a man. You got a girl, I get that. But I’m not asking for favors here, Leo. I don’t like saying it, you know I don’t, but you would have been dead in the streets were it not for me, and don’t you forget it.”
I didn’t know what to say. Was I really going to be bullied and blackmailed for something I did more than twenty years ago, as a child? My head spun.
“But baby, did you move it or something?” Sophia yelled again, but this time I could hear her voice getting louder as she approached the bedroom.
“Baby…?”
“Fine, I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t ever fucking call me again, I’ll call you,” I spat and hung up, then tossed the phone onto the bed.
I stepped back from the door and she opened it.
“Who …who were you talking to?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.
“Nobody,” I said and gave her a kiss. “The cats. I was talking to the cats. I saw that vase under the sink, it’s right at the back,” I said, and walked off to the kitchen before she could see how shaken I was.
Chapter Four – Sophia
I lit some incense, blew at the band of fragrant smoke a little till it wobbled in the air, and then gently placed the burner off to the side. I shook my hands, and cracked my neck. I walked over to the stereo and adjusted the volume of the music - or “space whale music”, as Leo liked to call it - and took a deep, cleansing breath, feeling my ribcage open slowly and then knot back closed.
Good.
The body is a temple, you see. An arena where we play out the dramas of our existence, an altar where all the magic unfolds. For the first half of my life, my body had been nothing but a dumping ground. A trash can. And it never stops seeming like a miracle to me how it still works today, even after all the damage I’ve inflicted on it.
I slid open the Japanese paper doors and poked my head into the waiting room.
“Emily?”
A pert girl with a blonde ponytail looked up at me and smiled. It’s important to make sure the first client of the day is one you really enjoy. I waved her in and she came into the massage room. She had a strong, lean body, but she was riddled with pain and had been since the first day I met her.
She would come in some days and tell me that she finally understood that the crunchy knots she felt in her neck were the crystalized words of criticism from her mother when she was growing up. Or she’d tell me about a dream she had while I worked on the pressure points all up and down her outer leg. Or sometimes we’d work on opening up her breathing a bit more, making sure that she was sending oxygen to her legs, which were now healing and functional even after dozens of doctors told her she’d never walk again.
Emily settled onto the table and I began to work on the muscles around her flanks and spine.
“You’re feeling really fluid today,” I said, and marveled at how she seemed to be melting under my very fingertips, a far cry from the usua
l ten minutes we’d have to spend to get her to loosen up.
She giggled. “Well, let’s just say I’ve met another ‘bodyworker’ recently.”
My hands paused on her skin.
“You’ve…?”
“I know, it’s a bit sudden, and I’m feeling really giddy about the whole thing, but remember that guy I mentioned? Andrew?”
“The programmer guy?”
“Yeah, him! Well, it’s going really well, actually…” she giggled again. I could almost feel her blushing.
“Emily, that’s amazing.”
“I know …he’s just so …so…”
It was like her body actually shivered and pulsed underneath my fingertips as she struggled to find the right words.
“He just …touches me, you know? I can’t really describe it. It’s so much more than sexy. He just …he has this way of setting me completely on fire.”
I smiled and continued rolling and stroking my hands over her body, working more deeply into her tissues.
“Well, it sounds like it’s working for you, you have almost no tension back here!”
She laughed.
“Honestly, at the rate we’re going he’s going to paralyze me again or something, I swear… Maybe I should forget about appointments with you and just make sure he’s regularly working the tension out, if you know what I mean.”
I winced.
“Oh, don’t worry, I’m just joking. I’ll always keep coming back to you. You’re the expert on these things, after all. But you said it once before, sensuality is important in life…”
I tried to pretend that she hadn’t hurt my feelings. I rolled and kneaded further, letting the conversation drop.
“Ouch!”
I pulled my hands back.
“You’re …you’re being a little rough,” she said and laughed nervously.
She was right.
I was relieved when our session was over and I waved her goodbye. I blew out the incense, turned off those godawful screeching whales and tried to gather myself for a second. I had never hurt a client before. Ever. Not in my training, not in the few years I had run this center. Never. I was the girl with the golden hands, the little lost waif who took a vicious past of addiction and poverty and turned it all around with nothing but patchouli massage oil and a clear mind.