“What’s wrong?”
“You don’t have to be so careful. It’s not going to bite me, or you for that matter.”
She used her painted nails to spread her outer lips, pointing out her clit with her pinky. “Try rubbing it over little Ellie.”
Phil erupted in spontaneous laughter. “Little Ellie?”
“Shut up! I dated a guy named Taltos in college who used to call his pecker ‘Vlad the Impaler.’”
Phil pushed the device onto her flesh, gingerly at first and then more firmly when she pressed her hand down atop of his. Slowly, he began to feel a bit more adept with it. He would have guessed that she liked it when he just held it tight against her skin, but Crawley seemed to prefer slow circles against the soft flesh beneath her hood. The vibrator buzzed merrily in concert with Crawley’s moans and sighs, creating a symphony that had him feeling mystified and intimidated and powerful all at once.
When she came, it was a long, slow shudder that crept up the length of her body. Her eyes and lips fluttered like the wings of a moth too close to an open flame, and he was afraid for a moment that he’d gone too far. Then her dark eyes opened, and she reached up to caress his hair gently.
“Was that better?” he asked.
Crawley closed her eyes and nodded, her cheeks flushed and breathing heavy.
“Better. You’re getting so good at this, babe.”
Phil smiled, but once again he felt himself inwardly cringe at the thought that even with a mechanical aid he was not performing as well as he should.
“This ain’t so bad,” said Steve, grinning at the bloody work Autumn was doing on his large shoulder.
“Told you.” Autumn paused for a moment and made eye contact, her smile hidden by the white filter mask she was wearing. She ran the needle over his skin, making it burn hot as she touched up details on the colorful picture she was making. It was a copy of the cover art from an early edition of War of the Worlds, where a tripod was vanquishing the Thunder Child with a heat beam. Autumn was adding detail to the waves that rose up in peaks around the legs of the alien craft.
Steve was seated in a comfortable chair in the back room of Sal’s tattoo parlor. The owner was not in that day, it being a holiday, but Autumn had introduced him to her friends and coworkers. Steve felt a little uncomfortable, his clean-cut appearance seeming out of place with the others, but they quickly put his mind at ease by being warm and considerate.
Autumn glanced back at the image on Steve’s laptop, squinting at the fine details on the screen and mimicking them on Steve’s skin. She dabbed at his arm with a white cloth, and it came away red with blood.
“How come there’s no ink on that?”
“Because the ink goes in deep. It has to push some blood out of the way, of course.”
“I don’t mind. Hell, Pop used to come back from Japan with more stitches than a quilting factory.”
“I can’t believe he did that hardcore crap.” Autumn’s eyes narrowed over the mask.
“You don’t like hardcore wrestling? I would have figured you’d be all for it.”
“No. Those guys do awful things to their bodies for less money than a fry cook earns. It shortens their careers and probably their lives.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” Steve winced as she drove the needle a bit deeper.
“Quit flinching,” said Autumn, tightening her grip on his bicep.
“Sorry.”
Nearly three hours later, they walked out of the parlor, Steve gingerly moving his bandaged arm.
Autumn noticed, and favored him with a wide grin. “Aww, does it hurt?” she asked.
“Not so much. I just don’t want it to smear or anything.”
“As long as you don’t scratch it, and you keep it out of the sun for a few days it should be fine. It’s gonna itch tomorrow, sugar.”
“Great. And I won’t be able to scratch.”
“You have to slap it.” She pantomimed the motion on her own arm.
“Does that work?”
“Not much, but it kind of helps.”
They returned Steve’s car to Chet’s garage, learning of Phil’s triumph the previous evening. Steve spent most of the cab ride home on the phone, trying to confirm that the charges had indeed been dropped. With a frustrated snarl, he turned off his phone and jammed it back in his coat pocket.
“Well?” said Autumn, raising an eyebrow.
“Train sure took his sweet time, the fucking prick. Oh, the charges got dropped, all right, but I have to wait six to eight weeks to get my money back. Fucking government.”
Autumn bit her lower lip, eyes going glassy and unfocused. “Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Steve squeezed her knee. “Just means I have to wait a little longer to get my car finished.”
“Why do you put up with me?”
He smiled at her, stroking her silky hair. “You know why.”
“No, I don’t.” Autumn turned away from him, stared out the window. “I’m mean, and bitchy, and I make fun of you all the time, and you’re always blowing your money on me. Are you sure you don’t want a nice, rich girl like Eleanor?”
Steve’s brow furrowed, and his tone held a note of confusion. “Crawley? No, not really my type.”
“Oh, come on, she’s a little hottie! You’re real subtle about it, but I’ve caught you sneaking glances at her.”
“I don’t love Crawley. I love you.”
She smiled shyly at him, then leaned her head on his chest, mindful of his new ink.
“I love you more than I thought I could love anyone,” he said, seeming to be amazed at his own words. “I don’t want you to leave, ever…”
“Okay,” she said, patting his belly. “I’m right here.”
“Marry me,” he blurted, suddenly shaking with nervousness.
“What?” she said, eyes going wide. Her voice trembled slightly when she spoke. “Can you repeat that, please?”
“Marry me,” he said more softly, stroking her hair. “I don’t have a ring yet, but I’ll get one right this second and go down on one knee if that’s what you want.”
“Why?”
“For all the reasons everyone gets married. You know, tax loopholes, someone to watch for the cable guy when I’m at work…”
She laughed, though it was through a sniffle. “No,” she said, voice thick with emotion, “why do you want to marry me?”
“That’s easy. You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and for some reason you seem to like hanging out with my dumb ass.”
She laughed again, though it soon turned to sobs. The driver glanced nervously in the rear view, uncomfortable with the display. “Okay,” she said, wiping her face with a skull emblazoned handkerchief. “Okay.”
“Why are you crying?”
“Because shut up.”
They kissed tenderly, their lips lingering for long moments.
When they broke the contact, Autumn’s tears had stopped flowing. She looked him deeply in the eyes, put her hands on either side of his cheeks. “I don’t want this moment to end. Can’t we just ride around in this cab for the rest of our lives?”
He smiled, not knowing what else to say. Her sentiment echoed the one in his own heart so closely that words seemed unnecessary. Autumn spent the rest of the ride home with her head on his shoulder, eyes closed while she felt the rhythm of his heart with her hand. He kept one hand around her, stroking her ebony hair softly.
“Congratulations,” said the driver as Steve gave him a modest tip.
“Huh?” said Steve.
“On your impending marriage.”
“Oh…thanks!”
When they arrived at his door, Autumn opened it with her key, giving him a warm and loving smile. Very slowly, she pulled him inside by hooking her fingers into his belt. Once the door shut behind him she purposefully undid the buckle. There was something different to her movements, not the frantic rush they were usually in. The gravity of the cab ride home seemed to require a slow,
steady release of tension.
They made it as far as the sofa, where Steve tripped over his own pants that had pooled around his ankles and fell down hard on his bare rump. Autumn laughed gently, offering her inked hand to help him up. Steve did not move when she tugged, instead pulling her down atop him. Her smooth flesh slid against his own until their faces were inches apart. He slipped a palm behind her head and pulled her in closer until their mouths met in a smoldering kiss.
Autumn raised her hips, then slid slowly down on him. She ran her nails down his hairy chest, her eyes half closed and lips slightly parted. Her soft breasts were being firmly massaged by Steve’s warm palms, and she grabbed his wrists in a sudden tight grip. Rather than pulling his hands away, she held them more tightly to herself and continued the swiveling of their hips.
Autumn’s toes dug into the carpet, giving her purchase for her inspired gyrations. Steve moved his hips in concert with hers, finding a rhythm they were both comfortable with. Autumn leaned forward, supported by his hands as they intertwined with her own. Their faces were just inches apart, eyes locked in a gaze that was profoundly intimate. Steve added a bit more English to his own movements, causing her eyes to flutter closed. Her chin brushed against his shoulder as her head dipped low. He gasped as her teeth nibbled his neck, running the razor’s edge between pain and ecstasy.
Gently, Steve pushed her back until she was upright, then further still until her hair brushed the top of his knees. Putting one leg over her torso, he rocked his hips back and forth. Autumn gasped, putting her hands on his foot but making no attempt to move it. The added pressure of his leg across her belly had its desired effect, pushing her soft flesh harder into the head of his penis, until a long, soft moan escaped from her ruby lips.
“Whew,” she said, pulling her damp hair back from her sweaty face. She straightened up, putting her palms on his thighs to support herself, bodies still interlocked. Steve gently massaged her leg.
“It’s never been this easy. With anyone else, I mean.”
“It’s never been this good.” Her mischievous eyes glanced back down at him. “With anyone else, I mean.”
He laughed, then moaned as she suddenly slid her hips forward.
“Don’t get lazy now,” she said, hands behind her head.
“Show you lazy.” He hooked his pinky into her nipple ring. Gently but insistently he pulled until the pink flesh had stretched as far as was comfortable. She followed the tug, an excited smile on her face.
“Oh, no…”
Once her torso was within inches of his own he released her ring and instead wrapped his arms around her sweaty back. He crushed her to him while his mouth covered her own. He rolled her onto her back, still clinging tightly to her body. She gasped as he nibbled and licked her neck, her painted fingernails digging furrows in the carpet. He worked his way up to her metal-adorned ear, blowing in it lightly before taking the spongy lobe between his teeth and applying gentle pressure.
He grimaced a bit as her nails scraped down his shoulder blades, the flesh growing wet from freely running blood. He used the impetus to thrust more powerfully, until Autumn’s lusty voice nearly rattled the windows. Spent, he collapsed atop her, and they lay panting in a sweaty pile.
“No,” she said as he moved to roll off of her, “let’s stay like this awhile.”
“I’m not too heavy, am I?”
“Maybe roll on your back.”
He did so, and she kept their bodies pressed close together during the motion. She laid her head on his slightly rising chest and sighed, fingers idly playing with his chest hair.
“Never shave this off,” she said, her voice tickling his sternum. He chuckled, hand stroking down her spine.
“I manscape it sometimes, but one of the reasons I’m not a wrestler is because I don’t like having to shave it smooth. Makes me feel like a little kid.”
“I like hairy chests. You said one of the reasons. Why didn’t you follow in your father’s footsteps?”
She felt him take in a large breath, his chest rising, and blow it out in a sigh.
“For one thing, I don’t like being hurt all the time—and Pop was hurt literally all the time. If it wasn’t a broken toe or finger, it was a sprained wrist, or a groin pull, or stitches in his forehead. Turns out getting slammed six nights a week by three-hundred-pound men takes its toll, even if it’s been scripted out in advance.”
“A lot of athletes have to work injured,” said Autumn, a note of understanding in her voice. “That’s why I’m not one.”
He grinned, stroked her hair softly. “I’m not much for being on the road, either. I like sleeping in my own bed, and besides, what is your wife doing while you’re out on the road?”
Autumn shifted her position so she could look him in the eyes. Her gaze was intent, mouth a thin line. “You think your mom may have cheated?”
“No! I mean, at least, I hope not. I don’t think so. But a lot of the boys in the back have had two, three marriages and counting.”
“Not to mention all the wrestling groupies,” she said, putting her head back on his chest.
“Ring Rats. Dad always called them Ring Rats.”
“Ewwww, that’s not nice!”
They both laughed, until Autumn stiffened up a bit, her hand becoming still.
“What’s wrong?” Steve asked.
“I’m scared. I’m scared to get married.”
“Why? If you’re not ready, we—”
“No, I didn’t say I’m not ready. I said I’m scared.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Not really. It’s my own mind trying to sabotage itself. I’m actually really good at doing that. Screwing up a good thing.”
“You’re not going to screw things up,” said Steve, as if the notion were ridiculous.
“I almost always do, though. I’m just not allowed to be happy. The universe says, ‘nope, uh-uh,’ and everything realigns and I’m back to being miserable again.”
“Have you…do you want to talk about it?”
“There’s not much to tell,” she said, raising her head off his chest once more. “I’ve dated some losers, and I’ve dated a couple of winners, but it’s usually been my fault when things have fallen apart.”
“Is that what happened with Sal?” Steve asked, trying without success to keep the undertones of jealousy from his voice.
“No,” she said, a trace of annoyance in her own tone, “that bastard starts every day with a good whiskey buzz. He was never abusive, but he’d be brain dead by five o’clock. It was like living alone, really.”
“I see,” said Steve, mouth a thin line. Autumn suddenly kissed him, her lips lingering for a long moment as their tongues explored each other.
“Get that jealous look off your face. Get it off, I said…”
She used her tongue for more than just speaking, her lusty exhalations filling his mouth. He sat up, not breaking the lip lock, and gathered her legs under one arm.
“What are you doing?” she asked with a giggle as he rose to his feet while cradling her in his arms.
“Taking you to bed. I have rug burn in places no one should ever have rug burn.”
“Oh, man up!” She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.
Phil sat in his soft brown leather recliner, clad only in his boxers. Despite the late afternoon sun filtering in his large windows, he still had stubble on his chin, his hair remaining in the bedraggled state slumber had put it in. His fifty-two-inch plasma-screen TV was on, but he only paid attention to the mobile device in his hand as he sent a text to Crawley.
Love to see you again tonight -P
He glanced idly up at the TV, his distracted mind barely acknowledging the Sean Connery 007 movie displayed upon it. A moment later his phone beeped, and he eagerly checked the message.
Can’t. :( Mom and Dad are trying to act cool,
but they’re not happy about me being out till six this morning.
; I think I better stay home tonight. -C
What about tomorrow? -P
Maybe I could stay the weekend? ;) Mom and Dad
are going upstate for a fishing trip,
and I’m going to be awful lonely :) -C
Phil nearly dropped the phone, so eager was he to type in an affirmative response. All his trembling fingers were able to muster was:
Yes. -P
Cool, have to go now. Dinner time. Miss U. -C
He put the phone down, heart hammering in his chest. There had been precious few opportunities for him and Crawley to be intimate. He worked Monday through Friday at the firm, while her weekends were usually taken up by her father’s business. Phil was painfully aware that his awkwardness in the bedroom was not helping the matter. His excitement was tempered with apprehension, the conflict making his stomach turn more than the hangover he had been suffering.
He stripped off the shorts and took a shower, letting the hot water cascade down his aching back. The stool provided by Chet at the gig the night before had lacked any back support, and the strain of holding up his torso all night had left him with fires and sharp needles in the muscles near his spine.
Upon exiting the shower he got dressed and tried to play World of Warcraft, but found that his heart was not in it. He considered starting a new character, realized that was a temporary fix to the problem and just turned the game off.
He wound up checking his various social media accounts, changing his status from “single” to “in a relationship”—something he had been afraid to do in case Crawley saw it. Now he wanted her to take notice, because he wasn’t certain how to move their relationship forward.
He idly chatted with Steve, who was posting stupid memes while Autumn was out with a pair of girlfriends. The big man dropped a bombshell, saying that he had proposed to Autumn and she had accepted.
What are you always telling me about buying the cow? -P
He got the expected reply:
Fuck off. -S
Seriously, though. I’m happy for you.
Wish I could move things along a little faster with Eleanor. -P
Forever Autumn Page 17