by A Kelly
‘My God, what’s up with people around here!’
‘I’m sorry that happened to you. He probably just wanted to know you.’
‘Why? In the middle of the night?’ Summer shouted. ‘What the hell was Tim thinking when he chose this place?’
‘It won’t happen again, I promise,’ Scipio said.
‘Shit! I thought…’
Then she paused and shook her head.
‘You thought what?’
‘Just leave me alone, please,’ Summer said.
Scipio approached her.
‘Leave. Me. Alone.’
‘All right,’ he said, and left.
Summer locked the door. She wanted to curl up in a ball and hide inside the pantry. But the pantry had shelves here. So she went inside the wardrobe instead.
That was too close. That boy had been asking for it, but she wouldn’t have forgiven herself had she killed him. She could still feel her arm wrapped around his neck; she could almost feel his bones starting to break.
Penguin was a mistake.
Myriad possibilities spun in her head.
If she had killed that boy, Scipio would’ve had to deal with her going to jail.
If that had been Bobby and she’d killed him, Scipio would’ve had to deal with her going to jail, or at least getting tangled in a legal mess to prove she’d killed him in self-defence.
If that had been Bobby, and Scipio had killed him, she would not have been able to see him go to jail.
If that had been Bobby and he’d killed Scipio, she would probably have killed herself, too, after she’d killed Bobby.
It hadn’t been Bobby. Not tonight. But it would be, in five to seven years’ time.
Bobby had changed when he’d faced her in Darwin. Bulking muscles, taut neck, steel-like abs. Before that night Bobby had never used a weapon (he loved his belt – but to him it was a tool to please her). That night in Darwin, he’d broken a bottle to rape her with. After prison, what sort of man would Bobby become? What torture awaited her and Scipio?
Summer screamed into her own gagging hands. She kissed her own knees.
She had to leave now. Scipio might be keeping a vigil next door. So she tiptoed out of the Beam House. Once her car was loaded, she hopped in and let it roll back down the driveway. He would notice her leaving when the engine started, but by then she would be on her way.
‘Summer!’
Right on cue.
In tears, she sped off.
‘I love you, Scipio…’ she whispered to herself again and again.
Soon she saw a pair of headlights tailing her, flashing every now and then.
‘Just go away!’ she cried alone.
By now she realised she’d made a wrong turn and she wasn’t on the Bass Highway. She was going too fast for the narrow Penguin Road and the car behind her wasn’t about to slow down. She couldn’t get him killed. Not like this.
Summer slowed down. Despite her tears refracting the view ahead, she managed to stop inches away from the embankment of the railway running parallel to the road and got out. The car behind her soon pulled over.
‘Scipio, please, stop following me,’ she sobbed as they stood face to face.
‘Summer, I won’t blame you if you leave. But please give me a reason. Tell me what you’re running from. Ask me, ask me how I feel about you.’
Summer shook her head.
‘Ask me, please…’
She already knew the answer.
In hopeless anger, she unbuttoned Scipio’s jacket, she ripped his shirt and put her palm over his heart. ‘This, this might stop beating one day. And I don’t want to be the cause of it.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You’ve got to let me go, Scipio,’ she said. ‘A man is after me, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill you.’
Scipio’s car headlights shone on them. She watched Scipio’s eyes glisten with tears as he said: ‘I don’t blame him. What man could ever lose you?’
She scowled and weakly punched his bare chest. How could he be so stupid!
She threw another punch, closer to his left pec. Her fist went limp and she knocked her forehead against his collarbone. ‘Goddamn it, Scipio! Take it seriously, please… He will kill you if he finds out we’re together.’
‘Where is he now?’
She couldn’t tell him Bobby was in jail. Scipio would say there was nothing to worry about. She said, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Maybe he already knows,’ Scipio said. ‘Me, a single man, living next door to you? If he comes and you’re not home, he will ask me, Summer.’
‘Then you’ll just have to put on your best act and lie!’
‘Just a mention of your name and any man would know that I’m in love with you.’
To finally hear he was in love with her, straight from his lips, tore her apart.
Summer leaned against the car and covered her face. What had been in Bobby’s mind when he’d found out 45 Aberdare Street was the wrong place? Would he keep searching? Mentally flicking through the photos her mum had shown him to find more clues?
Perhaps the ‘worst’ she had imagined would never eventuate. She would love to believe so because she couldn’t live without the man in front of her.
‘Summer, we’ll face him together.’
She wanted to sleep next to this man. She wanted to put her hand on his heart again. Not like this. In peace, at his place. Why must she be so stupid too?
He took a few steps forward. His eyes stripped her defenceless.
She needed him, she finally admitted. Would she break his heart to save his life? But as he said, it was probably too late. They had to stay together.
Penguin was supposed to be her last frontier. But this man had turned her plans upside down. Her knees were weak, her throat dry. Maybe tomorrow she’d convince him to run away together. Maybe they still had five years. But for tonight––
‘Scipio…’ she said. ‘I don’t wanna be alone right now.’
Scipio took Summer back to his house. No, Summer shouldn’t be alone. She should be in his arms, in his care, in his protection. Although he was precisely why she had tried to leave. Who was this dangerous man who was after her? It could be any man, but she’d warned Scipio not to underestimate him.
Under his living room light he realised her cheeks were swollen.
‘Summer?’ he said and hovered his palm over her cheek. It seemed she had beaten herself.
‘I’m fine. I just want to sleep.’
Scipio reached for a flannel and wet it with warm water. He pressed it a few times against the swelling as she twitched. Then he made her tea.
Scipio watched Summer sitting stiffly on the sofa, hugging a mug of chamomile tea while he made the bed. The damn duvet always rolled inside the cover! And he never washed the sheets and pillowcases with softener. Emily would’ve complained, he recalled, and women were the same when it came to things like bedding and laundry, right? What would Summer think of him? A middle-aged man who didn’t know how to take care of a house.
But his housekeeping skills were probably the last thing on her mind. Maybe tonight he’d ask her to tell him everything – absolutely everything.
A sudden noise made him snap to attention.
‘Summer…’ He ran to her side.
At her feet were splashes of tea and the mug in pieces. Scipio took her hands and examined them. They were cold despite having held the warm mug. Her fingers were delicate, but her palms were thick. They weren’t a stay-home lady’s hands, they were the hands of a fighter. He shouldn’t have been surprised.
‘I’ll clean up,’ Scipio said when he was sure she wasn’t injured.
Summer stared at him blankly. His questions could wait another day, Scipio decided as he went to get a rag.
Summer reached out, inviting him to sit next to her. He looked at those long, toned arms and remembered how the muscles had swelled around Justin’s neck when she was strangling that poor boy. Justin had tr
ained at the Budo for a couple of years. And there was no doubt in Scipio’s mind Summer had been trained, too, very well, somewhere, by someone – maybe Tim. The marine had said he was a karate guy. And thinking back, he recalled that Louise had thought he was Summer’s ‘friend from karate’ when she greeted Scipio at the nursing home.
‘I don’t want to run anymore,’ Summer said now.
‘You can stop here.’
‘Hold me…’ she whispered.
He put his arm around her. Her shoulder contracted as his hands touch her back, but she soon relaxed when she gazed at him. She hugged him as he stroked her back.
Slowly she slipped away from his embrace and slinked towards the far end of the sofa. She reclined, her body following the length of the sofa until her head touched the armrest. The neckline of her T-shirt opened wide, almost to her shoulders, exposing her prominent collarbones. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he could see the silhouette of her nipples.
Scipio gulped as Summer pulled up her top, took it off completely, and threw it on the floor. The most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
‘Touch me...’ she whispered. Her back was still glued on the sofa. She put his index and middle fingers on her lips, then moved them slowly down her chin, onto her neck, and she finally stopped at her cleavage – as if she’d given him two options: my lips or my breasts.
With storms raging in his brain and in his heart, Scipio froze. After how it had gone their first time, he had hoped Summer would give him a clue as to how she wanted to be touched. But she waited, her eyes locked on him, watching every change of expression, every blink and every twitch he made. Her stare demanded he show her his moves, and Scipio was sure she’d judge what kind of a man he was based on that.
In his shortish theatre career, Scipio had seen a number of topless women, he’d had a couple of chorus girls come on to him stark-naked (which sent him bolting for cover). But Summer was what he felt a woman should be: her breasts curved exquisitely and fell firmly, forming a perfect bustline, her areolas were wide and smooth, and her nipples were so delicate he could imagine she’d squirm with pleasure from mere contact with his finger. Yes, he wanted to touch the magnificent pair, but there was nothing he desired more than those full lips that stayed parted after she uttered his name.
He put the tip of his index finger on her cupid bow, and then her lower lip. When he pressed it, it bounced back, tempting him and at the same time thanking him for his choice. Could he kiss her?
‘Summer…’ he said – asking for her permission.
She smiled.
A smile that revealed the gap between her teeth; the smile that drew Scipio to her. His lips reached hers. He tasted the plump, rich pout. Intoxicated by the first taste, he let out all his entrapped hunger and really kissed them.
In between Scipio gasping for air and savouring her sweetness, he felt warm tears flowing along the top of his lips. He opened his eyes. There were delicate tracks of tears on her face. He wiped them gently with his fingers. She kept smiling, appreciating his appreciation for her.
She rolled up his T-shirt and hissed as if steam were escaping her body. He lay on top of her, following the length of her body. She wriggled free from her pants under his hovering hips, leaving on her lacy purple panties.
For a while they stared at each other. He knew she was waiting for him.
He hadn’t been with a woman for so long he wondered how much things had changed. A beautiful young woman, a fragile young woman, a deadly young woman who could bring down a man like Justin – how would a gentleman deal with her?
‘You are so beautiful,’ Scipio whispered to her. He kissed her lips again and she welcomed it with an equally passionate grip on the back of his neck. He breathed in every single sigh she released.
Her hands were now around his neck. Her thumbs played with his Adam’s apple. She paused in that position for a while, then loosened her grip. Slowly she ran her fingers down his shoulders and arms and across his chest.
‘I’m yours, Summer,’ Scipio whispered.
He pressed his body against hers. Her breasts were warm and her waist fit in his two hands. He was about to hug her all the way and lift her up, but she took his arms and guided his hands to her neck, spread his thumbs and put them on her throat.
Then her stare changed again. She let go of his hands and let out a long sigh.
Summer smiled. A tickling sensation filled Scipio’s chest as her fingers flicked his nipples. Then she pinched them.
What on earth! He held his breath, trying to absorb the sting and vibration on his nipples. It felt like he had been electrocuted. Was this what women did to their men these days? The amperage travelled fast from his pecs down to his crotch. The current was strong enough to make more than just his pubic hair stand.
Scipio’s reaction prompted Summer to unbuckle his pants and strip him naked. She made no attempt to hide her delight, as if she were seeing his naked body for the first time. She grinned and licked her lips, then juggled his balls gently. Scipio’s blood rose. All the tips in his body tingled – all ten fingers, all ten toes and… his cock. He told himself not to panic this time.
Summer gripped the shaft of his cock and stroked the foreskin up and down. Her fingers could no longer wrap around it completely. He didn’t mind masturbation, and her hand felt divine. But he desperately wanted to be in her. It disappointed him that he couldn’t just make the normal moves other men would – dropping his hips in between her legs, nudging her to open wider and just enjoying being one with her. Instead, he had his size to worry about.
Summer let go, leaving his cock dangling. She lifted her tummy slightly to feel it, then she took a deep breath. She flashed a smile as she abandoned his cock altogether and put her hands back on his pecs. She circled them with her index fingers – large circles, small circles. She really seemed to love his nipples. Was it the shape? Was it the colour? The size? Men's nipples all looked the same, didn't they?
She pinched them again. Harder.
Scipio screamed this time. He was still dealing with the vibration when Summer returned to his cock. No, she hadn’t abandoned it. At this stage the tip was more than tingling, it was throbbing. She stroked it and stroked it. He desperately wanted her to stop… The last thing he wanted was to shoot all over her before he had a chance to make love to her.
But she didn’t stop.
Right when Scipio arrived at the edge of an edge, she let him go.
He released a loud groan.
It felt as though his nipples and his cock all released the disrupted blood flow at the same time. It felt like an orgasm, only he hadn’t come, and he was still rock-hard.
While Scipio was still catching his breath, Summer relaxed under him. She did nothing for a while; he was sure she was letting him settle (and get his prostate under control). A naughty grin was painted on her face once more when she squeezed his biceps. Best biceps in Penguin – oh yeah… he was full of it!
Suddenly Scipio found Summer gripping his right hand. She drove it down along her abs, then motioned him to pull down her panties. She was clean shaven and he could smell her sex. He slid down and kissed her bare loins. She writhed. He looked up and found Summer throwing her head back, eyes closed. He slithered back up to reach her lips. Once more she reached down for his right hand that was still resting on her hip. She wrapped her hand around his index finger and implanted it inside her.
They sighed simultaneously. Scipio thrusted his finger deep. His fingers had never gone there, but it was exactly how he thought a woman would feel inside – the warmth, the curves, the push-backs, the squeezes, the wetness.
‘Summer…’ he said into her ear.
Scipio pushed deeper while never leaving her lips. When he pulled out his finger, she grabbed it, then wrapped her hand around his index, middle and ring fingers. She introduced all three into herself; all he had to do was continue the glide. Her moans got louder. It was like experimenting with a musical instrument – you strummed t
he strings a certain way, you’d get a different melody. It was about discovering how it responded to you, and the kind of music it rewarded you with. Summer was letting him learn Summer. Through it all, she closed her eyes. She enjoyed his presence with whatever fantasies were playing behind her shuddering eyelids. She grinned, grimaced, sighed and parted her lips. ‘Scipio…’
Slowly, Summer opened her eyes. She took a deep breath and drew his fingers out. She switched her grip to his cock. Her fingers still couldn’t wrap around it fully. He expected her to start stroking again – there was no doubt in his mind she knew his limit: he’d come soon. Would she just masturbate him so she wouldn’t have to take him in?
Instead he felt a warm squeeze, wetness and those familiar push-backs… on his rock-hard cock.
He almost cried. The incredible feeling of being inside her was even more intense because he’d been made to wait.
Summer sighed loudly, her eyes widened, as if she’d just dipped herself in cold water. The pace of her breathing picked up as she lifted her hips trying to get him to go deeper. She kissed him, sucked his lips, then stared at him.
Pleasure, fear, surprise, joy, all rolled into one and he wasn’t sure how those emotions were expressed on his face. Her stare was relentless.
She kissed his lips again. He followed the movements of her hips as she continued panting and groaning. She pulled his hands in a rush and desperately tried to wrap them around her throat. Unprepared for her move, his elbows slipped, his body dropped and against his intention, his cock stabbed her deep.
Summer screamed and threw her arms to her sides. She whimpered as small tear drops slid down her face. Having regained the support from his elbows, Scipio pulled out. Although she was panting and her face was red, she shook her head and wrapped her legs around his hips and bum, locking him in place. He could only go forward.
Summer writhed and moaned, but Scipio had stopped thrusting.
‘Summer, am I hurt—’
‘Shhh…’ She put her palm on his cheek. She swallowed and took one deep breath, then pushed herself onto him instead. Her stare demanded him to stay in.