by Gina Kincade
“Why didn’t you tell me about her before? I would have called her to come and be with you during your recovery. Couldn’t you remember her during your amnesia?”
“She was the one thing, the one person I could remember. I didn’t tell you because she is dead. She was murdered.”
“Oh, good God, Bri—murdered?! How, where? Why? Oh my God—who? What do the police say?”
“The police have nothing. My sister was…well, Tati was addicted to drugs and the street. She was a…”
“You can tell me, Bri. You can tell me anything.”
“My sister was a prostitute. She turned tricks to feed her drug habit. The police have let the case go cold. There just isn’t a huge outcry to find an addict’s murderer. But, in their defense, it is pretty hard to get anyone from the streets to talk. Even Tati wouldn’t talk to me about it when I tried to help her. She really didn’t want help…at least she thought she didn’t.”
“What happened?”
“She was murdered by the street—a john, a pimp, a pusher. Who knows? I have been trying to find out.”
“You? That’s what happened to you?”
“I don’t know, but I think so. I want to find out. But I have to remember what happened to me first.”
They sat in silence for another hour or so while Bri dozed. Dr James was paged and he called an orderly to get Brianna settled back in her room.
He understood more now than he had ever before. He knew the minute he first saw her months ago in North Beach that she was a woman with a purpose; she was different, serious, and intense. She’d seemed heavy hearted and he wanted to know more about her. That’s why he’d sought her out night after night. But it was not until the night before her assault that she finally came to him, picked him.
And he wondered why. Now he knew.
Six weeks after her attack, on the day that she was released from the hospital, he took the day off to take her home, if that’s where she wanted to go. He made arrangements with the super to get a housecleaning service in to clean up all the blood and try to put some semblance of order back into her little home before she returned.
They stood at the base of the stairs on the street. Brianna was still on crutches and would be for the next two weeks or so.
“Would you like me to carry you up, Bri? I can. I know you think I’m a superhero, but you have lost some weight. I think I can manage you.” Dr. Ben James laughed, slightly nervously.
“No, Ben, I will have to do it myself sometime. No time like the present…I think.”
As it turned out, just going up the stairs made her tremble. She was visibly shaken as she stood at the front door and reached for the handle. Her chest raised and lowered with a fierce breathlessness as she struggled to gain a measure of control over her breathing from the exertion.
“Are you alright, Bri?”
“I don’t know, Ben. I think so.” She opened the door and the relief washed over her noticeably.
“I made arrangements to have it cleaned while you were in the hospital. Please don’t be angry at the liberty I took. We tried to put things away, but you may be looking for things for weeks and finding them in strange places a lot longer.”
“I thought…that there would be…”
“I hope you don’t mind. The police recommended a service. Don’t worry, I was here the whole time, trying to remember what it was like the night before your…when I was last here. I threw a few things away and replaced them with items I thought you might pick for yourself. Please say you don’t mind.”
Brianna smiled at Ben and stood on the threshold of the apartment, nearly frozen in place as she scrutinized the room. The room smelled of pine cleaner and Clorox. It didn’t appear as though anything horrific had happened here in the past, but the attack loomed and hung like dripping banners from the corners. Ben could feel it; he could smell the blood residue. He was sure that Brianna could smell the blood undercurrent beneath the sterile odor of the cleaning solutions just as he. The new throw rug helped hide the remains of the assault. But, it was brand new and stood out as a testament to the assault.
“Is anything coming back to you?”
“No…I appreciate all you’ve done, Ben, I really do. Thank you.”
“You don’t have to stay here, Bri…not unless you’re ready—if you ever are. I have a guest bedroom and you are welcome to stay as long as you want until you decide what you want to do.”
“It’s a thought, Ben. Maybe…”
“Let’s get you whatever you need, then we’ll go to my place. Besides, I can keep my eye on your recovery a lot easier that way.”
Bri entered the room and walked around as if it was her first visit and she was seeing it for the first time. She sat at the table by the window and looked down at the clean ashtray.
“Do I smoke?”
“I suspect you used to,” Ben answered with a smile. “It’s not good for your health.”
“I hate cigarettes. Tati used to smoke. I couldn’t stand the way it hung on her, in her hair and on her clothes. I can’t believe I smoked…I guess I quit while I was in the hospital. Sit down, please.” She nodded towards the only other chair at the little turquoise Formica topped metal table.
“I loved sitting here watching the day float by surrounded by the cacophony of daily life.”
“People really say things like that…cacophony?” Ben laughed.
“I guess so; I just did. Relax, I’ll get a few things.”
Brianna stood and put her hand on Ben’s shoulder as much to steady herself as to reassure Ben that she was, in fact, okay. She looked down at him, eyes swollen with emotion. Ben swiveled in the vinyl covered seat and wrapped her in his arms, pulling her close. Her fingers wove instinctively through his hair and Ben released an involuntary sigh.
“I have wanted to touch you for weeks. But…”
“But what, Ben? You touched my body all over, more than any other man, during my recovery.”
“That was as your doctor. As a man, I don’t want to scare you. I didn’t want to rush you. I want…”
“Want what, Ben?” She pulled slightly away as she looked into his ice blue eyes.
“…to be here when you need me.” Ben ran his palms up from the small of Brianna’s back to her shoulders and buried his face between her breasts.
“You are. I do. I want you, now Ben.”
“Really, now? Here?”
“Yes, here. Right now.”
Ben rose and as he did so, he lifted Bri in his arms and carried her to the small bedroom area. Her crutches fell against the utility sink.
“Oh, God, Brianna. I can’t help myself when I’m around you. I want to hold you, kiss you, breathe you in. I want to wear you. I ache to be inside you, a part of you.”
“Shut up and kiss me, Ben.”
He laid her gently on the bed and as he did she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head. Bri looped it over his head, behind his neck, and pulled his face in tight to hers.
“Doctor’s orders, Ben.”
“I wish I could show you how I feel,” the quiet whisper carried his words to her.
Her breath was hot and sweet as it washed over his face.
His hands were afire with passion. The temptation was no longer distant but breathing, reaching for him with open arms, her blood pounding to a fervent heart. His heart, once heavy with worry that Brianna would ever recover fully, now raced to feel hers beat against his chest.
“Far be it from me to disobey doctor’s orders, Brianna. Oh, God, Bri …”
For the first time, Ben put his fingers in Brianna’s hair while she reached up to kiss him. He savored the moment and thought he would never forget a single second for the rest of his life. She smelled of lilac and promises. He was floating on the heady scent of her perfume which he followed straight to the small of her neck.
His lips found a soft haven in the crook of her neck and lingered there, kissing her warm skin delicately. He eased the tip of his tongue in the so
ft clavicle above her collar bone. He felt the rhythmic beating of her heart declare a need for him he could not…he would not ignore. His need had been too long in the making, too long in denial.
He hovered above her, unwilling to put any weight on her frail and tender body. He looked at the beauty below him who stared back at him with trusting eyes. It was there, in her eyes, he saw the reflection of reason.
“I can’t, Bri; I just can’t.”
She looked so sad. “Why, Ben?”
“I don’t want to hurt you, and it is way too soon. You cannot take the weight of my body. Sex would no doubt be a very good part of your recovery, perhaps even a vital part of your recovery. But…”
“But? Don’t you want me?”
“Want you, Brianna? I have wanted little else but you. In The Symposium, Plato tells us that every human was originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves. Making love is the acceptance that you are one half of a whole and you have found the other half. You are my other half and I want nothing more than to make love with you and abandon myself in your flight of passion. But, I know better as a doctor. I don’t want to set back your recovery. Not like this. I don’t want to hurt you. I have worked too hard for you in your healing. I don’t want our lovemaking to bring you pain of any kind.”
“But, Ben…doesn’t it matter what I want? I want to feel alive. I want to feel safe in your arms. I want to feel safe here, in my home. I want to make love with you.”
“Oh, Bri, I’m gonna hate myself for this, but, I want you to have all those things too, just not yet—not like this.”
“Then, will you hold me, kiss me, touch me?”
“Yes, gladly. I have dreamed of nothing else. I have never kissed you and it is the one thing I want more than anything else. It broke my heart to see you so small and so damaged in your hospital gown—so tiny in that starched white bed getting smaller by the day. I was helpless to make you better. I’m sorry for that.”
“Oh, Ben, darling, don’t be silly. It’s because of you that I’m still alive and it’s because of you that I want to feel alive now. Here, help me. Take the rest of my clothes off. I can’t with this cast on my wrist.”
The room looked a vibrant orange with the last of the day’s rays filtering through the window. The room was soft and warm and appeared to be burning with passion.
Bri had yoga pants on that slipped off almost eagerly. Her cotton panties were simple—white, virginal, new. She was not wearing a bra. Her body was still voluptuous even though she had lost so much weight. She radiated her desire; it appeared to glow on her flesh. But that was the glint of sunlight glistening off her body’s impatient perspiration. Ben could not resist touching her. If she was not alive, he did not know what was.
He slipped his finger in her mouth while she stared at him and sucked. He withdrew it from her mouth and paused lightly over the scar on her lip still healing from her injury. He drew his finger down her chin, under her neck and to her right breast where his circled her areola which was the same creamy white, only slightly darker, as her skin. Her eyes closed as she drifted with her response to his touch. He pressed the tiny nipple between his thumb and forefinger and raised it up, tugging to harden it in readiness for his mouth. He bent to take the tiny hard nipple into his mouth and sucked it between his teeth until he heard her release a whimper. His cock twitched encouragingly between his thighs. He sucked her entire breast into his mouth and cupped its position as she arched her back to his lips.
“Oh, God, Ben…” she whispered.
He leaned on his elbow, tweaking her nipple with his left hand as his right hand found her other nipple and teased it into the party. He palmed her breast and rubbed, tugged and pulled until he was sure she was pleased and ready. He could no longer resist kissing her soft, tender skin. It glowed with the sunset and felt warm to the touch. He floated, drifting with a purpose to the heart of her passion and the tender fervor locked in waiting above the soft threshold of her thighs. Her hand and fingers peeking from the cast on her wrist, guided his head to her need and he, with the obedience of a lover, followed her need to his.
Before he even touched the heat that throbbed eagerly for attention between her thighs, he inhaled her aroma; it was the scent of eager love, readiness, musky. He remembered that scent from the only other night he was with her when he buried his fingers in her to the knuckle and lifted her to his chest. She had wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her into the small dark apartment that night. He thought that would be the only time; he thought he would never see her again.
But he had the very next night and every night since for the last six weeks, not like this, though—not so intimate.
He slipped his fingers between her thighs, down the soft furry mound that joined those legs he loved so much. She released a quiet burst of pleasure from between her lips and he ran his fingertips lightly up the petal soft lips that were slick with her juices.
His balls tingled and ached; his cock dripped pre-cum eager to fill her with his love.
But, instead, he slipped his fingers between her folds and into her burning desire. She was ready, slick and slippery. She moved with deliberation beneath his touch while she pushed his head closer. It was easy to oblige her need. He swung himself over her and between her thighs gently, careful not to put his weight on her body. She opened herself to him, moving slowly and tenderly a soft moan echoing her passion.
“Kiss me, Ben…please kiss me. Put your fingers inside me, Ben…please. Pleeease. Ben…”
Eager to taste her, Ben put his fingers in his mouth and licked them clean of her juices. She was luscious. It would be so easy to lean back, lift her onto his hips and slip himself into her but he just couldn’t. He stayed down, took a deep breath of her love and buried his face in the heart of her passion. He licked and sucked her labia. He spread them with his fingers and pulled the hood off of her very ample clit now engorged with desire. He sucked it into his mouth, rolled it between his teeth, bit down and flicked it mercilessly with the hard tip of his tongue. When she was close, when he knew she was almost there, he lapped at her fully enflamed pussy and whipped her repeatedly with a talent few men possess in the tip of their tongue.
He felt her contractions well up and start to roll inside her. He held on for the ride, never missing a stroke to keep her response steadily building. She pushed and writhed. She grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled his mouth hard against her. She fucked him. His fingers dove inside her relentlessly and curled into a hook against her G-spot. He tugged—she pushed. It was a perfect tempest of abandon, passion and need. It was the storm before the calm; it was there, that ‘it’, that ‘something’—that moment when time stops, when the air grows still, when you enter a state of nothingness, a state of purity and completion, suspended together.
She screamed, her arm over her eyes and then nothing but quiet. She didn’t move, didn’t relax, didn’t do anything but let go—completely.
“Oh, God, Ben…Oh, God…”
“I’m going to burst, Bri, can I…”
“Yes, please, let me watch…can I help?”
Ben was already hard, stroking his cock with the hand that was just in her pussy and slick with her cum. He was hard and full, his veins bulging purple with patience and passion. The cap of his cock was swollen and red, stretched to the limit of his skin and aching to release. His thighs quivered, his muscles taunt as he exploded all over her belly.
“Oh, God, Bri…Oh, God, my God.”
“Ben, c’mere. Quickly, put it in my mouth. I want to taste you.”
Ben moved roughly, in staccato movements between jets and contractions. He plunged his cock into her mouth and sighed in pure satisfaction as she drank in his love. He held onto the headboard and steadied himself so he wouldn’t fall on her with the might of his weight. In t
ruth, he couldn’t have moved if he wanted. He was buried down the full length of her throat.
When he could move, he did so as though moving with a breeze. He was light, bending, swaying with the spirit that absorbed him. He slid out from between her ruby lips, tethered by a glistening string of saliva that refused to release them from one another but relented, finally, and snapped back to her chin. He bent and kissed the remains of her passion from her chin and travelled to her full and waiting lips. Those lips, the lips she would not let him kiss, she now placed gently upon his.
He thought he would die from her kiss…
***
Her hair fell away from her face bearing naked the object of his yearning.
"I wish I could show you how I feel,” his quiet whisper carried his words to her. She felt her fevered cheek blush at having heard his soulful desire.
The flutter of thousands of wings exploded in her heart and her breath seized. Her palms grew nervous, heavy with eager perspiration, in anticipation of his touch. Her eyes, now cast to the floor, closed and her body belied her own silent paralyzed passions.
“But, Ben…doesn’t it matter what I want? I want to feel alive. I want to feel safe in your arms. I want to feel safe here, in my home. I want to make love with you.”
Her breast tightened around a stifled scream, allowing the whimper to escape and fill the room with her heat. She reached out with an eagerness she had never known yet recognized instinctively. Her arms opened without her willing, reached for him and she wrapped him in her impatience. He pressed against her instinctively. His body, his scent, the slight glistening of his perspiration on her cheek, weakened her resolve and her knees buckled under the heady weight of her desire. She sighed into his neck as he caught her falling body. In the trail of his scorching touch, her skin came alive with hunger.
Life without him would be torture, and yet...
To have his kiss would mean the death of her. Or at least, a form of her. She would never be able to return to ‘the other her’, the woman that Ben met that night at Blu Balls. Where would that leave her? That was all she had known for two years. It was all she had become or meant to be, needed to be, for her sister—for Tati.