by Katie Dowe
“So…have I jogged anything loose by any chance?” he asked.
“Jogged? Oh you mean my memory? No, Sorry,” she said.
“No, don’t apologize. It's cool,” he said with a wave of his hand. Frances nodded because there was nothing else to say. Allen drove them home and left them at the door before driving off to work. Frances ushered Kareem into the apartment a little shyly. She still wasn’t used to the fact that this was her home and she was entitled to be here. Kareem walked in very matter of fact, crossed down the hall to the spare room and deposited his bag on the bed as Frances watched from the door. He took off his shoes, finding some sandals to slip into and then crossed the hall to use the bathroom. Clearly, he was very at home here. Frances leaned on the corridor wall watching him carry out his ablutions. When he was finally all freshened up he came up to her and put his arm around her shoulder.
“Come on, let’s go see if Miguel will make us some tea and then you can tell me everything,” he said leading her back up the corridor to the kitchen. Miguel was way ahead of them; the table was already laid out with a second breakfast. It was like they were hobbits or something; constantly eating. Kareem sat down and eyed the food with relish. Frances sat back a little more slowly pulling the coffee toward her and pouring a cup. She passed him the coffee pot and picked up a slice of dry toast. She was pretty sure she could keep that down.
“So…” Kareem said as he piled his plate.
“So…” Frances echoed with a smile.
“Amnesia huh?” Kareem said.
“Yeah,” Frances said sadly. “I got a big giant hole where 2005 to 2015 should be.”
“The doctors say why its only those ten years you lost?” he asked.
Frances sighed. “Well apparently retrograde amnesia works like that. It takes the most recent memories first.”
“Are they going to come back?” Kareem asked. “What do the doctors say?”
“Well according to them, sometimes they come back, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes you wake up and they’re just back; all of them.”
“What are you hoping for?” Kareem asked.
“Fuck knows. You tell me. What should I hope for?” she asked.
Kareem’s brow rose, “Why ask me?”
“Because I think you know whether there is a hot mess waiting for me or happily ever after,” she said.
“Probably something in between. Believe it or not, you didn’t give me every single detail about your love life Frannie,” he said.
“Nooo!” she said in mock shock.
“Yes,” he said blandly drinking his coffee.
“Well anyway, at least I know that the passion was real if how I feel when he massages my toes is anything to go by...” Frances said watching Kareem for his reaction. He smiled.
“Do you guys…you know,” he asked avoiding her eyes.
“You know? You mean like have sex?” she asked leaning forward to find his eyes.
“Yeah. I mean since you don’t remember him and shit,” he said.
“Yeah, no, we don’t. We sleep in the same bed though so it's super awkward,” she said.
Kareem laughed. “But you want to?” he persisted.
“Hell yeah. But I can’t exactly ask him to jump my bones,” she said with a sigh.
“Why not?” he asked.
Frances laughed in disbelief, “What do you mean why not?”
“I mean…he’s your boyfriend, you’re having a baby together; you’re practically married! So why not ask him?”
Frances opened her mouth and then closed it, she flicked a glance at him and then back down at her plate. “It's difficult to explain,” she said at last. “I don’t remember him; I don’t remember if that’s part of our repertoire…and he kind of intimidates me,” she confessed.
“Is it the eyes? You always had a thing about his eyes,” he said with a wry smile.
“It’s the eyes, and the floppy curly hair and the…” Frances spread her arms out, “the muscles and the height…how the hell did we get together? He could have just about anyone he wanted,” she sounded totally bewildered.
“Exactly. And he wants you so…own it sister,” Kareem said with a click of his fingers.
“Easy for you to say…” Frances mumbled.
“It really isn’t but we’ll put that aside for now. How are you feeling about the whole pregnancy thing?” he asked putting his cup down.
Frances frowned. “ I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Some days I’m just scared to death, other days I’m excited to be growing another human beings; most days I have heartburn at the myriad of ways I could ruin its life….did I just say myriad? My vocabulary is on point these days…” she finished thoughtfully.
Kareem laughed. “It must be hard to live in your head these days huh?”
“It’s a strange landscape in here definitely,” she agreed.
“Well my advice is…don’t shut Allen out; he’s probably the most qualified person to explain you to you,” he said.
“Great. Can he explain why my toes curl when he massages my back or why I feel like crap when he just goes to sleep without trying to persuade me to have sex with him?”
Kareem laughed, “Maybe not but he’d be stoked to hear it.”
“Would he? Or would it just take a super awkward situation into the stratosphere?” she said and then inclined her head. “There I go with the three dollar words again.”
“You do have a university education you know,” Kareem pointed out.
“I know; but in my head I’m still a street rat,” she told him with a twist of her lips and wry brow lift.
“Aww darling; you are still a street rat; just a highly educated one,” Kareem teased.
Frances punched him lightly on the arm, fixing him with a mock glare. “You know, I see why you and I are friends.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Kareem replied.
“Mmm,” Frances said swinging her head from side to side in a 50/50 gesture. Kareem laughed and then it was his turn to hit her on the arm.
“Come on, lets go catch up on daytime soaps and I can teach you – again – how to put on make up,” Kareem said standing up to the living room.
“Speaking of…are you like…becoming female now or…?” Frances took the opening now that he’d provided it.
“Still taking hormones. I’m taking it really slow for my family’s sake. They’re trying to be supportive but I get that it's hard for them to let go of ‘Kareem’,” he said.
“Mmm,” Frances said non-committally since she had no idea what the correct response was, “What will you call yourself when you change?” she asked.
Kareem smiled, “I don’t know; I’m thinking Aaliyah?”
Frances smiled, “Cute.”
“You know it,” he said relaxing back on the sofa and clicking the remote.
*****
Allen left them to it all afternoon; he didn’t appear like he normally did when Frances was home alone. She appreciated the space but at the same time she wanted to see him; it was messed up. He came back in the evening carrying take out.
“Oh, isn’t Miguel going to feel the slightest bit offended at you, getting take out?” she asked.
Allen waved a hand, “He’s fine. Tuck in, I got your favorite; fried chicken.”
Frances looked in the bag. The chicken looked good she had to admit, although she couldn’t specifically remember it being her favorite food. There were French fries in the bag as well, some cheeseburgers and soda.
“Wow. I’m pretty sure this is considered food that’s not suitable for health-loving Americans,” she said plucking out a chicken leg.
“Are you a health-loving American?” he asked. Frances shrugged.
“Apparently not. Besides, I’m pregnant and this chicken is delicious.”
“Let me just get some plates for you,” Allen said hurrying to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” Frances mumbled around the chicken in her mouth.
&n
bsp; They spent the rest of the evening re-watching Con Air simply because Frances couldn’t remember seeing it but she remembered wanting to. She enjoyed it immensely while Allen and Kareem enjoyed her enjoyment. They stayed up late simply talking and reminiscing about things, Kareem and Allen drinking beer while Frances stuck to milk. The boys played off of each other, telling outlandish stories of their time in college and making Frances laugh. It was the most relaxed she’d been ever since she came home from hospital.
*****
Frances decided to use the gym in the basement two days later; she had known it was there because Allen occasionally came back from it; sweaty and glistening, wiping his forehead and looking sexy as fuck. She’d been meaning to go see what it looked like but had been feeling too timid. Somehow having Kareem around made her more comfortable so she decided to give it a try. She left Kareem and Allen at the breakfast nook, companionably masticating their meals. She was still queasy from her morning puking session so she wasn’t quite ready to eat anyway.
*****
“Hey, just so you know; Frances is sexually attracted to you,” Kareem said out of the blue.
Allen looked up from his newspaper, “Say what?”
Kareem gave him a look, “You heard me.”
Allen stared at him. “If you’re trying to tell me something just spit it out”, he said, squeezing the newspaper in his fist.
“I’m just saying that it might be a good idea to pay sexual attention to your wife,” Kareem replied sipping his coffee slowly.
Allen continued to stab Kareem with his eyes. “She told you that?” he asked leaning toward the other man lips pressed tight together.
Kareem shrugged. “You could say that,” he said, eyes on the beauty magazine he was reading.
“Kareem, I need you to be very clear about what you are saying,” Allen said.
Kareem sighed and went so far as to put down his magazine. “You need to seduce your wife Allen, I don’t know how much more clear I can be.”
Allen continued to stare at him as if chock full of questions he couldn’t ask.
“Okay then,” he said.
“Good,” Kareem replied with a nod, picking up his magazine and turning the page.
Chapter 8
Kareem went upstate New York for a few days to visit with his cousins, leaving Allen and Frances alone. The house seemed to echo with his absence and they realized that they’d been using him as a buffer to make it easier to be around each other. Now they were left to fill in that gap with television and books.
Allen slid into the seat next to Frances with a novel and started reading. It was a romance he’d found on her nightstand which was set just before the French Revolution, and it was… funny. The characters were a lot like Allen and Frances really were with each other. And. Well. Allen squinted at the page and shifted in his chair reading in disbelief.
“I'm not your fucking bitch."
"Really?" Julian’s voice is hushed, half-whispered. He grabs a handful of Loretta’s hair and pulls her head back. He kisses her, tongue pushing inside Loretta’s mouth and fucking her with it. Loretta moans, and Julian bites at his bottom lip. "How about now?"
Allen side eyed Frances, imagining her reading this shit. He couldn’t imagine her agreeing to being manhandled the way Loretta apparently was. It’s … bizarre that she’d be attracted to reading about this kind of sex. Was it a kink she’d never told him about? Like…all this time? Allen didn’t know what to make of it…except that maybe it was a little bit hot.
Julian has his other hand resting at Loretta’s waist, his thumb rubbing her hipbone.
"I'm not going to fuck you," Julian breathes into Loretta’s neck, "not even going to touch you till you beg me to."
Maybe more than a little.
"You're an asshole," Loretta manages to get out, her voice strained and she can feel herself dripping with readiness, desperate for Julian’s hand, his mouth, anything.
"I could leave you like this, just leave you on the edge and desperate for anyone to touch you. But I wouldn't let them, Loretta. I'd mark you so they knew who you belonged to."
Loretta closes her eyes and she can visualize Julian sucking bruises into her neck, scratching and biting and marking her everywhere and she chokes out, "Please."
Allen bit his lower lip, thinking he shouldn’t be getting hard reading this—wondering for a second if Frances would actually enjoy that. The author sure does sell it like Loretta did. And Frances was reading this story. He cut a glance at Frances, who had abandoned the laptop she’d been browsing on around the time Allen started reading. She seemed oblivious, eyes glued to the TV screen.
Julian fucks her through it, pushing Loretta down with one hand on the back of her neck and pulling out just in time to come all over her ass and back, marking her.
Allen finished the story and closed the book, placing it prominently on the table between them. His cock wasn’t getting any less insistent about needing some attention. Fuck. He’s getting turned on by fiction now.
“So you thought that was hot?” Allen asked, voice slightly hoarse.
Frances shrugged not pretending to misunderstand but not looking away from the TV either. “Yeah. Kind of.”
Yeah. The ‘kind of’ that’s so much ‘yes’ that Frances can’t even look at Allen right now. Allen considered that for a few seconds, and then pushed up from the settee. He turned to stand between Frances and the TV, so that Allen’s the only thing Frances could see. Allen lifted his chin and squinted down at her, fingers riding the curve of her skull, knuckles closing around the strands of hair. “Really?”
“I mean…if you’re gonna do it, might as well…you know,” Frances managed to make it sound casual, but Allen could see the way her green eyes darkened almost to black, the slight flush rising in her cheeks. Allen had had a couple of beers and he was pretty sure he could roll with this. He’s read enough to understand that it’s the domination, the surrender but most importantly the trust. This might actually be fun. God knew it was about time…
He yanked Frances’s head backwards, forcing her to look up at him, his tongue teasing the swell of her lower lip before he pushed inside, rough, long, dirty licks at the inside of Frances’s mouth. Frances started to reach for him but Allen caught both of her hands around the wrists, and shoved her down against the settee, falling on top of her. Frances’s was so soft and yielding and ready, while Allen’s cock was an insistent throb between his legs. He rocked his hips into Frances and devoured her mouth with bruising kisses, tongue plunging deep. He put a hand on Frances’s face, fingers digging into the soft skin above her jaw, thumb on her chin, pulling her mouth open wider. He took his time, licking the inside of her mouth, biting her lips until they’re dusky and swollen, while she squirmed underneath him with each flick of Allen’s tongue against the raw skin. When he was done there, he closed his teeth around the muscle in her neck and bit down hard, his other hand grabbing her hipbone and holding it against the cushions while Allen rocked into her. She breathed out in guttural surprise, hips inching up, meeting Allen’s, her hand closing on the back of his neck. Allen pulled away, growling as he threw her hand back down against the sofa. He rose up on his knees, giving her a level look before he reached down and grabbed the hem of her shirt, peeling it up over her head. He undid the button and zipper on her jeans next, sliding them down past her hips while she watched him, leaning forward over her as he eased her pants past her knees and kicked out of them. His body hovered over hers like a promise, not quite touching her yet—and then he sat back up on his knees, moving around on the settee until he’s straddling her face, one knee on either side. He settled back on his haunches against the cushions, back almost touching the arm rest. She’s staring upside-down at him with glazed eyes, understanding complicit. Her lips parted, eyes moving to focus on Allen’s dick, tongue flashing out with a look of hunger. Allen nudged at her mouth, the head of his cock brushing her lips, leaving behind a smear of pre-come, wet and shiny a
cross the swell. Frances closed her eyes, tilted her head back and opened her mouth, her soft, warm lips clinging around the head. God, Frances opening up for him like that, a strained, eager sound hitting Allen like a shock, hot breath ghosting against sensitive skin. Allen couldn’t help a desperate hitch of his hips, shuddering as he sunk another inch into her mouth. Frances’s lips tightened, tongue flickering to taste the tip, the barest pull of suction—and that’s it. Allen heaved forward with a grunt, falling, grabbing Frances’s head, sliding across the sleekness of her tongue as he buried his cock in deep wet, heat. Her mouth sealed around his dick all the way to the base, sucking like a goddamned vacuum, throat working, tongue wriggling. Allen yanked back, gasping out a breath at the pleasure of the sensation and sunk deep again, felt her throat close around him, velvety and tight. He rode her, slow at first, then thrusting with his hips, slipping, sliding, cock hitting the back of her throat, rubbing against every bit of slick softness clenched around him, the sounds she was making vibrating through his dick and driving him fucking crazy. Frances tilted her head back even further as Allen sped up, hands locked around her head, driving deep and feeling her moan, the sound humming through Allen’s whole body. Allen came gripping bone so hard he felt like he was going to rip Frances’s skin off, knowing there would be bruises tomorrow. The thought just made him come even harder, Frances twisting her head underneath Allen and sucking, swallowing, and the sensation smashed right through Allen’s brain, erasing everything else.
His hips were still twitching, sliding on instinct, stuttering aborted movements as Frances kept sucking him, and drawing out the sensation until Allen felt raw and full with it. Allen pulled free with a chattering of teeth, hot shivers running up his spine. He settled his hips next to Frances’s head, upper body lying across the length of her torso, chest to belly. He sucked two fingers into his mouth and pulled them out dripping, his other hand moving each of Frances’s legs up and apart. His fingers traced a circle around her rim, making it glisten before he dropped his head and licked. Frances practically twisted out of her skin at the touch of Allen’s tongue, and Allen was still not a hundred percent sure about this, but fuck it, he was here, and winding Frances up even more was exactly what he wanted. He settled the tip of his tongue into the crease, nudging experimentally, and Frances bucked, pushing into Allen’s chin. The taste is slightly musky above the familiar salty tang of skin, and Allen stiffened his tongue and pressed deeper. He could feel the ring of muscle close around him, so tight and searing hot and Frances got so crazy that Allen grabbed her by the thighs, held her open and still. It didn't taste like much now that he was inside, and he thrust deeper. He felt Frances quake to the tips of her toes, gasping; and then let his tongue slide out, tip catching and holding just inside the ring of muscle. He held Frances down then, craning his neck for a better angle, and fucked her with short, sharp jabs of his tongue until she was whimpering, hands clawing as they reach for Allen before they fall away again, squeezing fists into the cushions.