The Wind Is Rising 1

by Daniel Steele

  He’d been fairly good looking, 6-2, with a full head of hair, a pretty good sense of humor and while honest about his attraction to her, wasn’t grabby or obnoxious. So when he asked her out for drinks after work Friday afternoon, she finally decided what the hell and said yes. She was as surprised as he was when they didn’t make it out of his hotel room to the hotel bar.

  She’d gone up to wait while he changed clothes after work and then he’d walked out of the shower with only a towel around his waist, dropped it with a grin and let her see how hard she’d already made him. It had been awhile, she decided later, since anything nice and hard and lacking batteries had pounded her and it only took her about 3.5 seconds to wind up on her knees sucking him.

  It took him a little longer to climax in her mouth, but it had only taken about five minutes of play to bring him back into action and she had spent a fairly good time for the next 30 minutes with her legs locked around his ass begging him to go harder, deeper, faster…the usual.

  She couldn’t help smiling as she thought about it that way. Bob had been a nice guy and a good fuck. He had definitely brought her over the edge and he had made her laugh when they lay next to each other afterward talking about some of the stranger denizens of the Public Defender’s Office.

  And yet, when he’d asked her to meet him for dinner and a second workout on Saturday, she’d pleaded family obligations. She’d lied without a moment’s hesitation. And now she couldn’t really understand why. He was a nice guy, he would have been fun, and he was pretty good at fucking. Why had she turned him down?

  It was a puzzle. While thinking about it she turned on the television and checked the DirecTV listings. Nothing leaped out at her, until she glanced at the showings on TBS and noticed a title. “The Picture of Dorian Gray.”

  She vaguely remembered the movie. She had seen it as a little girl and then again in college. For some reason it had always intrigued her. She checked the movie data. It was the George Sanders 1945 version. It would be starting in a few minutes. What the hell, again.

  While she’d been on the date with Bob, she’d managed to forget the vague sense of sadness that had dogged her more and more in recent weeks. Now it seemed to be settling back in, like a winter chill invading the room.

  A nice horror movie, healthy popcorn to chow down on, a pleasantly well-fucked pussy, the knowledge that her son was safely ensconced in front of a computer screen probably not watching porno, her daughter was being watched over by her mother and father, and the knowledge that Bill was probably somewhere being fucked blind by Myra Martinez and her mutant tits….what could be a better way to spend a Friday night than that?

  She sat back at 1:30 a.m. Two bowls of popcorn were gone, and a diet coke and two hours of her life. She couldn’t hear anything from upstairs but BJ was probably fighting monsters and villains on an electronic battlefield.

  Jesus Fucking Christ! She had put her hands to her mouth to stifle the scream that was fighting to come out. Tears ran down her cheeks and over her hands. BJ couldn’t come down and see her this way. Bill had been right. She was crazy.

  Sobs tore themselves out of her midsection and she dropped her hands and grabbed a pillow off the couch to stifle the groans. What was happening to her? It was just a movie. A campy old movie. With a stupid, stupid fucking premise.

  And yet…and yet…and yet…it felt like her heart was breaking….like her mother had died…her father had died. She felt the way she did the day she walked into Clarice’s home to find her body draped across her bed, the flesh cold and waxy, the pills and booze scattered across the floor beneath her lifeless fingers. The fingers that had braided Debbie’s hair, helped her apply lipstick the first few times, that had dried the tears of her first heartbreaks.

  It felt like someone had died. And no one had died.

  She thought of Bill. There was something inside her that wanted to rage, that wanted to curse, that wanted to grab the Glock in the upstairs safe, go out and hunt him down and pull the trigger until there were no more bullets left to fire.

  It was the old rage…but even as she felt it, she felt it slipping away, ebbing like the outgoing tide. The anger was familiar. It was a friend. She realized in some way sitting on the couch in the fragments of the life she had shared with him, it had kept her going. As long as she could rage at him, she could….what? The thoughts kept approaching her, making her think she could almost grab them and pull them into the light and then they dissolved and her mind swirled again.

  She wanted to hate him, but right now she couldn’t. Instead there was only a deep, growing sense of…sadness. Loss. It couldn’t be for their marriage. Because she had already mourned that loss months ago. It couldn’t be for the love she’d once had for him, because that had been gone a long, long time. Long before the divorce.

  She felt that if she could just figure out what it was that she had lost, she could stop this pain that made breathing a torment. If she could just….

  CHAPTER THREE: YOU WERE ALWAYS THE ONLY ONE

  November 5, 2005

  Saturday, 10 A.M.

  I rolled off the lady known as Myra and collapsed on a bed that was barely big enough for the two of us, much less her twins. That’s what I had dubbed them. I rolled her toward me so that one of those 30 pounders didn’t drag her down off the other side of the bed.

  I grabbed it and buried my face in her soft flesh, nipped the nipple and then gave her a raspberry. She broke into giggles and pulled it away from me.

  “Hey, a little respect….some guys have said they belong in the Museum of Great Tits, next to Mansfield and Dors and…oh…what was her name…..Candy Samples…from the 70s….”

  “I didn’t realize your knowledge of great and classic tits was so encyclopedic, madam.”

  She smiled and said, “You don’t know how many guys would tell me I was hotter than whoever the current big tit models were at the time. Finally I got curious and looked at some of the pictures. They were right. I was hotter.”

  “I saw most of them from the 70s and 80s. I….kind of liked the boob mags. And you definitely were hotter than anybody I ever saw in them.”

  She raised one heavy breast to her mouth, licked the nipple and pink saucer surrounding it until it was dripping and then dragged it from my mouth down my chest to engulf my dick. Every fiber of my being wanted to pump blood into my limp penis, but I’d just come into so hard that I still hurt. But I wanted to.

  "Oh, Jesus Christ, Myra…..you’re going to kill me. My brain is going to try so hard to pump blood down there I’ll have a stroke.”

  “I always knew you were obsessed with breasts, William Maitland. From the very first moment you ever walked into Edwards’ office and saw me that first day I was at work. I thought you were going to swallow your tongue.”

  “I nearly did.”

  “But you were a perfect gentleman. I thought you were going to give yourself whiplash turning your head away from me.”

  “I couldn’t believe my eyes. I wanted to just stare at you, but a happily married man can’t strip a strange woman with his eyes. It’s against the rules.”

  “And you always followed the rules, didn’t you?”

  “I tried, but you were always the one. The only one.”

  She rubbed the soft mound over and around my dick, pushing it hard against me. It was impossible, but I felt the first stirrings of life returning to it.

  I leaned over and licked her soft lips, then french kissed her as long as my breath held out.

  “The one?”

  “You were the only one in that office, the only one in the world, that I ever seriously thought about…I fantasized about….us meeting outside the office…when Debbie was on a trip for work. And I was bacheloring it…with no kids to worry about. They were staying with her parents.

  “I imagined us meeting in a grocery store when I was out getting supplies for a supper. Or going to a restaurant and you just happened to be there eating. Or I would walk into O’Brien’s
and you’d be sitting alone at a table. You’d had a fight with your boyfriend. And we’d get to talking.”

  “And what would happen?”

  “We’d have drinks and I’d have to get you a taxi to get home and you’d invite me into your apartment and when we were inside you’d turn and look at me the way you’re looking at me now, and you’d be wearing something low-cut, and your breasts would rise and fall with your breathing and I’d reach out…”

  “And then?”

  “I could never get quite beyond that. I’d jerk off sometimes, a few times, when I was downstairs and Debbie and the kids were asleep upstairs…but then it was just the usual…you know, the mechanics of fucking. I couldn’t quite make what happened between the two of us looking at each other and myself squirting all over you like a fire hose real in my head. I couldn’t play out the seduction in my mind’s eye.”

  She kissed me lightly on the forehead, the way you’d kiss a child.

  “Even in your wet dreams, you couldn’t quite go all the way to cheating on Debbie, could you?”

  “I guess not.”

  Her eyes glistened.

  “That stupid bitch. She doesn’t know yet what she threw away, does she?”

  “That first night – after the first time I saw you in Dallas’ office – I dragged her into bed after the kids were asleep, and pounded her and pounded her. I came four or five times and you don’t know how loud she could scream. I had to keep my hands over her mouth or both BJ and Kelly would have been hammering on our bedroom door to get in. That was one of the few times I was late getting into work the next day. And she didn’t’ make it into work at all. She almost wound up seeing her gynecologist because she was afraid I’d bruised her pretty badly.”

  “I’m flattered. Did she ever realize who you were really fucking that night?”

  “No. She didn’t even know you were in the office until months later. She didn’t pay that much attention to….office gossip. We were already….we’d started to have our own lives…..mine revolved around the State Attorney’s Office and hers around UNF.”

  “She….no, I’m not going to say anything bad about her. I know you loved her for a long time. There had to be good things about her for you to love her the way you did. But….”

  She slid down me and wrapped those soft mounds around my dick which somehow had gotten hard again. She slid them up and down and I didn’t know that there was any sensation in the world that could be better than that. Until she brought her mouth down and swallowed me as her breasts moved down, let me go on the upswing and then sucked me in again.

  I couldn’t talk. Hell, I couldn’t think at that point.

  She raised her mouth from my dick and asked, “Whose body is better, Bill? Whose titties do you like the most?”

  “You have to ask?”

  “Yes.”

  I grabbed her hair, forced her down on me, and bucked upwards, fucking her mouth as hard as I could and moaning. It actually hurt as I felt myself coming.

  “Yours, you wonderful fucking unbelievable creature. Yours.”

  She lay there with that golden hair spread across my stomach and chest, her face hidden, sucking and licking until the pain went away.

  An hour later we had both showered and she had slipped on a pair of my pajamas and one of my t-shirts. As she moved around, it was like watching two large animals trying to escape. It was sexier than if she’d been nude. I’d slipped on shorts and a t-shirt and brewed a pot of coffee. But I didn’t have donuts or a croissant and it was a donut or croissant kind of morning.

  I had left my cell phone on so I was surprised when I heard a knock at the door. Anybody from the office would have called first. So would BJ or Kelly after the debacle with Aline.

  I looked through the peephole and couldn’t squelch the , “Oh shit!”

  Myra heard and turned to look at me curiously.

  I opened the door.

  CHAPTER FOUR: THE TALK THEY SHOULD HAVE HAD

  November 5, 2005

  Saturday, 11 A.M.

  She didn’t knock again. She could hear someone walking to the door and she knew he was looking through the peephole. She stood there patiently. She knew she looked like shit. But it didn’t matter.

  Finally the door opened. He stood there in shorts and a tee-shirt, the first growth of heavy black stubble around his jaw. On days like this despite the fact he’d had his mother’s sandy hair, his beard always came in black, looking like nothing other than the few pictures she’d seen of his father before his death.

  “Hello, Debbie.”

  “Hi, Bill.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t make any sense to ask why you’re at my front door on a Saturday morning?”

  “You could ask.”

  “Why are you here?” came a voice from behind Bill.

  She looked at the door to the hallway leading to the kitchen where a blonde woman with enormous breasts in a thin t-shirt stood. The blonde wore the Superman pajamas that she had bought Bill for his birthday six years before. Debbie remembered the jokes she had made about Superman’s super penis when she had pulled them down around his ankles and proceeded to try to suck his brains out through his dick.

  That was when he had been hers, and not the blonde with the mutant tits.

  “Because I wanted to talk to my husband.”

  “He’s not your husband anymore.”

  “I know. But he was. Could I borrow him for a little while. Maybe a half hour. And then I’ll give him back.”

  The two women stared at each other. Finally she came up behind Bill and kissed him on the cheek, making sure that Debbie noticed how she rubbed her breasts against his back. Marking her territory.

  “Let me throw some clothes on Bill and I’ll run out and grab donuts and three or four croissants. Cheese and a few chocolate, okay?”

  He leaned back and grabbed one large breast and fondled it.

  “A lot of calories. I’ll have to get by the gym tonight and it might mess up our plans.”

  She reached out and cupped his groin, squeezing as she kissed him again.

  “You won’t need to go to the gym, baby. We’ll work it off right here.”

  She let him go and walked into the back bedroom. Debbie and Bill stared at each other until she walked out dressed a few minutes later, grabbed his keys, and with a quick kiss, walked out the front door.

  He pointed to the couch and asked, “You want to sit here?”

  “Could we do this at the kitchen table.”

  “A postage stamp would be bigger.”

  “I just…it just feels….better there.”

  “Fine. Look, Debbie….I didn’t say anything when you show up on my doorstep. I was…involved…as you could probably tell. I don’t – goddamn I don’t – show up on your doorstep when you’re dating or….seeing somebody. Except for that time with Abbott. And that was an accident. We can have a good parenting relationship without your showing up at…awkward…times. And this is awkward.”

  “Look Bill, I didn’t plan this to step on….your private situation. But…I just needed to talk with you.”

  “Talk?”

  “Talk. Not you rant and rave and me apologize and apologize. Talk. I talk and you listen and reply and you talk and you give me a chance to reply. We’ve never done that. Not since that fucking night when I said those four little words. Not once. How do you get divorced without ever once talking like two grown up people?”

  “Why? It’s done, Debbie.”

  “I came back from a date early last night. And I watched an old movie, ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray,’ you know, the one with George Sanders. The old one.”

  “And….”

  “I started crying and I couldn’t stop. I was sobbing, like I haven’t since that day that I found Clarice. You remember. I couldn’t stop crying all that day and night. It was like that.”

  “Why….?”

  “I don’t know, Bill. I don’t know. Why couldn’t you be like this, back then?�
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  “Like what?”

  “Like this, you asshole. You’re alive now. You’re thinner and you move like a younger man. You weren’t like this with me. And, the way you were with her. You’ve been fucking each other’s brains out all last night and this morning? Haven ‘t you? You remember the last time you were like that with me? Because I can’t.”

  “I’m this way because of you, Debbie. Because I couldn’t stand lying in the bed at the River condo or here….because every time I closed my eyes I’d see you and him….I’d see his cock…and you sucking him…and you spreading your legs for him. And I wanted to tear my eyes out. Or get a gun and kill you and him. And the only way I could deal with it was to spend every minute at a gym, Hurley’s or Carlos’ boxing gym….to exhaust myself so I’d sleep without dreams.

  “You did it. You changed me. But it was a damned hard way to change. And it didn’t have to be that way. You could have talked to me…like we’re talking now. You could have told the truth about the way you felt….so I didn’t get hit between the eyes by those fucking emails.”

  She dropped her head to the table and rested it on her hands. It was easier to talk if she didn’t have to look into his eyes.

  "How could I have told you those things? How could I have said what I said to Doug, to you? I tried to tell you without hurting you. I tried to get you to go to a gym with me I gave you blow jobs, I tried to get you jealous.

  “How would you have reacted if we’d sat down in the den and I’d told you that you were fat and flabby and old and you disgusted me when you rubbed that flab on me?

  “How could I have told you that your…dick….was an old man’s. It felt that way. I bet my life that Aline never complained about your dick getting soft on her. I bet you fucked her as hard as you could…the way you used to fuck me…when we first got together. I bet you came between her tits when you were fucking that cow.”

  She raised her head and looked at him squarely.