On Your Back, Part 2

On Your Back
Part 2 of 2
an4@anon.lelnet.com

He was just finishing rounding up his own purchases when he heard the 
argument start. They were the only ones in the store so at first he couldn't 
imagine that the very polite (if stubborn) Gillian was arguing with anyone. 
As he carried his Coke, chips, and the New York Times up to the counter, 
however, it quickly became obvious what the row was about.
    'I'm twenty-three years old.'
    'Well, then, be flattered I think you might be seventeen. Unless you have 
seven hundred fifty dollars to cover the fine if you're not of age, just go 
somewhere else they won't card you, ma'am.'
    Gelly did the smart thing. She didn't even look at Jan, but just walked 
out of the store. He put his own purchases down on the counter and casually 
asked for a carton of Marlboro Lights 100s, box.
    'I guess I should ask for your ID, too.'
    Jan provided his driver's license, took it back, and paid cash.
    She was already sitting in the car when he got there, looking as stormy 
as the sky, which had gone from semi-clear blue to dark and brooding in a 
matter of moments. Angry, she looked like a goddess-bitch out of some 
slacker's vision of paradise and he wanted to reach over and kiss her to make 
it all better. Not that anything was really wrong. Instead, he handed her the 
carton of cigarettes and smiled.    
    'They make it hard on you smokers, don't they ?'
    'I suppose you think this is all very funny, don't you ?'
    'Yes, actually I do. I'm starting to relax already. I've never seen you 
angry before.'
    She punched him playfully on the arm. 'Keep teasing me and you might just 
get some firsthand experience in how angry I can get, you-'
    They laughed and the truth was that he was starting to relax- and worse, 
not worry about what might happen when he got her home.
    They made two more stops, renting a movie and picking up some beer on the 
way. Strangely enough, they didn't card her at the liquor shoppe, but then 
again, he was one of their regulars, buying up the best of their imported 
beer on a regular basis. They just gave him a wry smile and he went about his 
business. By the time they got back in the car, it was raining.
    During the ride back to his place Gelly noticed it again. Jan was a 
little surprised when she reached out and touched the side of his face with 
the hand not holding the cigarette. She left it there too.
    'What are you doing ?'
    'Your eye is twitching again.' 
    Just then it twitched. She commenced very gently rubbing at his 
aggravated muscles.
    'Yeah, I'm just busy, that's all. You know how it is.'
    'Too busy. We're going to take you home and relax you a little bit.'
    'I was going to run.'
    'Not in this rain you aren't. I've got something a lot more enjoyable in 
mind, Jan.'
    He didn't really want to ask what that was. He concentrated on driving 
through the thickening rain instead. Gelly continued to rub his temple with 
one hand and smoke with the other and he was glad that he'd bought her the 
cigarettes, which he saw as a bad sign.
    As they pulled into his driveway she crammed the carton of cigarettes and 
her purse into her backpack because it was raining so heavily that even the 
short walk from his driveway to the front door was going to get them both 
drenched. He looked at her- looked at her pert, ample breast under the white 
mock turtle she was wearing and wondered if there was any way that her 
nipples would not end up showing through.
    'You'd better have some other clothes for me to wear- I'm going to be 
soaked through, you know.'
    'Race you,' he said, surprising himself.
    They jumped out of the car and sprinted to the door, pushing at one 
another until she amasingly burst past him.
    By the time they reached the front door it was as if they'd been in the 
shower together. He reached out with his keys but they were so wet they slid 
through his hands. They reached down together and her hand went around his. 
She helped guide his to the lock and the warm feeling of flesh on flesh 
aroused him more than he wanted to admit.
    She was pressed tightly against him, her nipples poking into his back 
like twin diamonds. He had the most amasing thought of wrapping his lips 
around them as the lock finally gave and the door swung open. She pressed him 
against the door, stepped past him, and standing inside the threshold, her 
hose touching his, she smiled widely, her eyes dancing.
    'Beat you.'
    Her breath was warm and smoky and it reminded him so forcefully of his 
old girlfriend that he felt something giving way inside that was 
uncomfortable and difficult to grasp. He missed her so much and her was this 
girl, full of life and vitality, the very things his own life had seemed so 
sorely short of lately.
    'Are you coming in or are you just going to be stunned by my beauty while 
you drown ?'
    It broke the tension, but he hated being so transparent. He wanted her 
right at this moment and what was he going to do with a whole weekend ?
    He walked past her, forcing himself not to slam the door in a rage of 
confusion.
    'My bedroom is up the stairs. You can find some dry clothes. A few things 
might even be clean. Want a beer ?'
    'Plying me with alcohol ?' she asked, her flashing eyes full of feminine 
mischief which made his groin ache dully.
    He popped a cap with his keychain and handed it to her. She danced up the 
stairs and he plodded towards the kitchen. On the way he picked up the remote 
and Filter's One began, the quiet opening precursing the song's pounding 
beat. 
    She walked into his room and saw that it was that of a typical single 
man. There was some attempt at neatness, but nothing that would get him in 
trouble on the Man Show. A laundry basket sat by the door, full of skanky 
looking socks. A pair of black bikini briefs was hanging half in, half out of 
the basket. The room smelled clean enough but wasn't entirely devoid of old 
sock and body odor.
    Gelly walked over to the dresser, crammed on top with few trophies, 
mostly from the last couple of years, a tin with flowers which looked like 
what you got when they cremated your cat, an abandoned Colour Stylewriter 
2400.
    And a picture.
    It must be the girl. She was wrapped around Jan, smiling. Smoke was 
coming out of her nostrils.
    But that wasn't what caught her attention. No, it was that she was 
holding a cigarette to his lips, her arms draped around him. He was wearing a 
tuxedo, which looked a bit silly. She could see one shoulder of the woman's 
low-cut black evening dress. Her hair was up, very formal, utterly gorgeous. 
He was clearly drawing on the cigarette.
    Now she understood.
    She stripped down, took a long gulp of her beer, and went into the 
adjoining bathroom, where she hung her dripping clothes.
    Naked, she walked slowly back through the bedroom. She'd left the door 
wide open in inviting fashion, but she knew he would wait downstairs, 
drinking a beer and think conflicting and troublesome thoughts. Older men. 
That was why she'd never had one, of course. They were so restrained. At 
least the ones worth expending energy on. Lecherous older men were something 
else, but Jan wasn't one of those. She'd been sensing all week his unease at 
having hired someone he could be attracted to as opposed to the alternative. 
As though he should feel guilty about human nature.
    'Finding what you need ?' he yelled up from the base of the stairs. She 
could hear nervousness in his voice.
    She considered responding with 'I could use some help.' But then she 
looked at the picture again.
    'Yes, I think I have exactly what I need. What about you ?'
    'I've got some stuff in the dryer.' His footsteps faded away.
    She then picked a Team Canada t-shirt and South Park boxers with Kyle on 
them. Dressed for an evening on the couch watching movies, she picked up her 
beer, took another swig, and then walked downstairs, carrying her cigarettes.
    He was sitting on the couch, flipping through the paper. He looked up 
when she walked into the room and saw that she was radiant. Her hair was 
still wet from the rain and her eyes shone like jewels. Her nipples were not 
quite soft, doing something to his t-shirt that made him envy the Montreal 
purchase immensely.
    'How do I look ?' she teased.
    'Like you-' whatever he was about to say, he caught himself. 'Like 
you're comfortable.'
    'Hopefully,' she said. Gelly noticed that he'd put an ashtray on the 
table, on the corner near a chair by the couch. That wouldn't do.
    'Slide up to the end of the cushion, Jan.'
    'What ?'
    'Let's do something about that twitch. Move forward.'
    Her did as he was told and she slipped in behind him. She placed her legs 
around him and rested up against him. Her nipples were still taunt, still 
tactile against the hardness of his back. She sat back and began rubbing the 
base of his neck with her hands. She worked outward in concentric circles. He 
was like a rock at first but he relented to her touch.
    'I had a roommate one year who was a physical therapist major. She had 
the best hands.'
    'Yours are pretty good,' he said.  
    'Practice.'
    Ironically, the Foo Fighters were singing '˜I'm on your back,' from 
Walking After You. She kept at it with neither of them speaking until Sting 
and Aswad had moved into Invisible Sun. Just as Sting sang '˜They would kill 
me for a cigarette,' she stopped, leaned forward, and lit one. She took a 
long slow inhale. Jan could hear the paper and tobacco hiss as air was drawn 
in. 
    She leaned close and whispered 'Your turn'. Smoke escaped from her mouth 
with each word.
    'I don't smoke.' He said.
    'Come on, relax, Jan. I saw that picture upstairs. You used to smoke for 
her. I'll bet you even enjoyed it, didn't you ?'
    'That was then-'
    'And this is now. Come on. It's time you let yourself relax.'
    She held the cigarette close to his mouth and waited. Then she moved it 
closer and he parted his lips. She placed the filter between them and he drew 
faintly on it. She reached around and rubbed his chest with her free hand, 
sensing that his resistance was melting. He exhaled, the smoke tame, and she 
gave him a silent demonstration on how to do it right as her hand slid down, 
down past his belly button, inside the band of his own shorts.
    'Again ?' she asked, her breath hot and smoky against his ear.
    He leaned back into her and accepted the cigarette a second time as she 
slipped inside his underwear and began to stroke him. He was already hard. 
She liked the shape of his erect penis. It fit nicely in her hand. She worked 
slowly, tweaking the head just right as they took turns smoking and pressing 
against one another.
    When his breathing got ragged, she stubbed out the cigarette, slid him 
down until he was lying on the couch, and pulled away the shorts. He put his 
hands into her hair ande held her head as it bobbed up and down, her tongue 
magical as he grew more and more erect, closer to the final moment. When he 
came, she looked up at him and smiled, showing no teeth. She swallowed it in 
one gulp, washed her mouth out with beer, and then kissed him as he struggled 
to get his bearings back.
    'Your turn,' he said.
    She lit a cigarette, lay back, and allowed him to slide the boxers away. 
He saw that she had nothing beneath them and if he understood that he'd 
simply meandered into her trap, he didn't care. He started with his finger, 
laying on her and kissing her between inhales and exhales. When she began to 
sweat, he slid down her length and showed equal skill with his own tongue. 
She fought against the orgasm, waiting until the cigarette was gone before 
allowing the climax.
    As soon as the last tingle of muscle spasm faded, she began stroking him 
again.
    It didn't take much to harden him a second time, and he slid into her. 
She was glad that he didn't try to talk, didn't try to rationalise or worse 
still, show guilt. In the moment, there was nothing but the physicality of it 
and she thought ironically that she might actually be able able to love a man 
who felt that way.
    Their second orgasms were not simultaneous, but they were close enough.
    She ended up on top of him, her red hair wet now with sweat, her eyes 
shining beacons. He was breathing hard, almost panting.
    'See now, that wasn't hard, was it ?'
    She lit two cigarettes and handed him one.
    'When did you know you were attracted to me ?' she asked, rubbing 
against him with her thighs.
    'When I first saw you.'
    'And you still invited me back here ? That's brave.'
    'I swear, I didn't expect-'
    She laughed. 'I wouldn't have come home with you if I thought you did. 
Part of the fun was making you anyway.'
    He frowned, looking concerned.
    'This wasn't-'
    'Just some sort of game ?'
    'Yeah.'
    'This woman really did a job on you, didn't she ?'
    'What do you mean ?' 
    'I mean this Brenda woman-'
     Sadness came into his eyes and it wasn't just that Bjørk had started 
singing '˜Hunter'.
    'You wouldn't understand,' he said, his voice suddenly cold and hard as 
granite. There was pain in his tightly drawn mouth and reminded her of 
something that she had seen on his face all week. There was a part of him 
that lived behind a wall, angry, pained, helpless. And he- he almost liked 
it. The dark night of soul, nurtured and maintained and cultivated like a 
mold, shunning sunlight or understanding or resolution.
    Now she felt anger as well. How could a man share what he just shared 
with her and maintain something like that in a deep dark hole ?
    'Don't be angry. I mean, this is pretty sudden. It's-'
    'Don't apologise for it. That's not going to help.'
    She thought about dismounting him, decided not to.  
    Sardonic, he grinned. His eyes had gone cold, his body rigid.
    'We all get our hearts broken once-'
    'They heal- unless you're frightened and weak.'    
    'That's not it.'
    She drew deeply on her cigarette, exhaled angrily. His inhale was more 
thoughtful, and she thought he looked like a post-Victorian poet, living in a 
world of shattered illusions and pain. That complexity she'd had seen the 
edges of, the thing she now realised had attracted her in the first place, 
was full face-on, and she was angry at it.
    'Explain it ?'
    Now the anger in his eyes was meant for her, but there was something 
else, hot and bitter, a poison in his system. 
    She drew on her cigarette and exhaled a thick stream of smoke that washed 
over them, and found himself forced to stay angry with her. It was hard. The 
way she smoked was-
    He was growing hard again, but it for the wrong reasons. He would take 
her a third time, but it would be out of anger, out of a type of rage so 
fundamentally deep that it defied attempts to reason it away. He turned his 
head and pulled away the long hair so that his scalp behind his ear showed.
    She saw them. Twin scars, round and livid, the edges like the caldera of 
crater impact. No hair grew in the old wounds.
    'How old were you ?'
    'Seventeen. She was sixteen.'
    'But that picture was what ? Two years old ?'
    'Eighteen months.'
    'All that time ?'
    He laughed, a sound so bitter that the beer bottle she'd picked up slid 
from her hands. She watched as the now empty bottle tilted and caught air, 
falling, each tenth of a second unique, part of the construct. It hit the 
edge of the table and cracked. Cleanly, not shattering but reeving instead in 
twain. His poisoned laugh still echoed, caught the shriven glass and 
reverberated in higher pitches like a tune fork gone mad.
    'You couldn't know. You could say you understand, but you'd be lying.'
    Gelly had no idea. But she needed to know.
    'Don't worry. It's- it's not contagious. All she did was mark me- 
create a connection. She wouldn't go that far, not with me, not ever.'
    'What are we talking about here ?' Gelly asked. Oh, she understood from 
watching american TV what those marks were. Buffy was great as an educational 
tool, but, it was just vapid fantasy.
    'Do you know what it's like to have someone else in your head ? All the 
time ? At will ? To feel what another woman is feeling when some guy she 
doesn't even know is fucking her senseless- not knowing that's just an 
appetizer to a main course where-'
    Gelly swallowed hard.
    'I have to admit that you're scaring me, Jan. What are you talking about 
?'
    'I'm talking about you making a mistake. I'm tainted goods, Gelly. Like 
a tree with spikes driven into it. Try to cut me down and you'll get hurt.'
    'I don't believe that. I don't know what happened to you, or what you 
think happened to you, or well, I know you. You're a good person.'
    Jan inhaled, blew smoke, watched her do the same, and for a time that was 
enough. For a few heartbeats he could watch her smoke and enjoy it and forget 
the sadness, but he had lost the ability to lay down with reason a long time 
ago. There was pain, and there was anger, and there was the thin veneer of 
civilising morality laid over the raw emotions.
    'Don't think you can know me. I'm sorry. I thought I could keep it out 
of my eyes, but you're too damn perceptive. I'm sorry.'
    'If you say you're sorry again, I'll smack you.'
    'I can't do any better than being sorry. I like you. I'm terribly 
attracted to you. But it's not enough. I don't get to take the girl home 
anymore.'
    'Then how do you explain this ?' she asked, and then bent down and 
kissed him hard. He could feel her anger now as well as it own, and felt 
good. He let go of nothing save his inhibitions, but down inside, he knew 
this was just fucking, just exchanging one pain for another. She felt it too, 
but she let him go on until he was done.
    And that was when she made a decision. Unfortunately, it was mistake.
    
    
    
    
    
    

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