It happened while I was driving home tonight. I was the only car on the road, the street lit only by moonlight, the cool wind buzzing my ears through the open window. I was almost home, my eyes and mind tired from an exhausting day. A vision of her pasted over my eyes as though she was sitting in front of me.
Her face was the same as the day we met, soft. Her eyes as clear and blue as the water I was driving along side. I hadn’t seen her in years. Not since the night I walked out the door of the home we shared, vowing never to speak to her again. It was a horrific fight. I had never fought like that with a girlfriend….
…The rainstorm that woke us that night reminded me so much of the late night thunderstorms of New Orleans, the type of storm that would flood most of the Up Town streets. After tending to the cars, saving them from the pounding hail falling like baseballs from the sky, I was excited and wanted to talk. She was exhausted and thought I wanted sex. The night was torn open by thunderous noise twice that night, the first an act of Mother Nature, the second an act of fallen lovers.
We had been arguing for weeks, I mostly trying to understand why she was so angry, her trying to tell me she didn’t want me around anymore. On that night, in the shadows of a full moon she did what I never thought a lover would ever do to me. As I stood in the doorway of our bedroom she raised her fist took careful aim and with all the rage she felt in her body and mind knocked my glasses to the ground. My eyes closed with the impact of her hand across my left cheek.
“Get out!” she told me with a look in her eyes I had never seen.
“No.” I said softly, recovering slowly from the blow I had just taken.
“Get the fuck out!” She said louder to me.
“You just hit me.” I responded, my glasses still on the ground. I still hadn’t looked at her.
“Get the fuck out of my house!” she yelled, coming at me again, slapping my bare torso.
“Stop! God damn-it stop!!!” I said trying to fend off her attacks. Finally resorting to picking her up, my shoulder at her waist.
She dug her nails into my back as I threw her down on the bed trying not to hurt her. To do so would have been easy. I could have knocked her to the ground with one blow, I was much stronger than she, but I would never be able to forgive myself.
Once her body hit the bed she drew her legs into her chest and kicked as hard as she could, finding her mark on my face, bloodying my lip. The impact caused a sharp pain to travel through my body as my lip swelled with blood and split against my teeth. My salty blood seeped across my tongue. I pulled down her legs as she continued to claw at my breasts and slap at my face.
“Stop hitting me.” I pleaded, still trying to get her to end the attacks.
“Get off me.” She yelled, once I had finally pinned her to the bed.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked once she was unable to inflict further damage to me.
“Get off me.” She yelled again.
“I’ll get off you if you stop.” I told her, almost out of breath. Looking into her eyes, I still had no idea who was looking back into mine. I had never seen this person before. This angry, violent, and torn woman and I had never met; this was our introduction.
As I slowly let her free she straitened her night robe, ordering me to leave once more.
“You’re out of your mind. Have you gone crazy?” I asked.
“I want you out of my house, or I’m calling someone.”
In hindsight I should have let her call someone. Maybe even the police, but at that moment even though I had done nothing wrong, I had not so much as even touched her in a violent manner, I was afraid, embarrassed even.
“Fine I’ll leave, but when I walk out that door I’m never coming back.” I said holding back tears and anger.
“I don’t fucking care what you do; I just want you out.” She said from the kitchen, her arms crossed, the angry person still in her eyes.
I returned to the bedroom and found a pair of jean and a tee shirt. Pausing for a moment I sat on our bed to cry before picking up the keys to my truck, my wallet, and a baseball cap, then slowly returning my slightly mangled glasses to my face. I walked past her in the kitchen, fighting back angry words as I slammed the front door shut. It was three in the morning. The rain that had passed through an hour earlier cooled the night air to a shiver.
I drove to the nearest friend’s house. She consoled me before taking pictures of my battered face and body. I didn’t sleep that night, but was roused from the floor at seven-thirty by a still angry woman and her phone call. I went to work that morning in the cloths on my back from the night before….
…I tried like mad to shake her face from my mind as I drove the short distance home. I kept asking myself why. Why did she enter my mind tonight, after all these years? Then it occurred to me, the night sky was the exact same as that angry night when I drove to my friends house, the date was March ninth, five years to the day, minute and hour that I drove from our house in shock of the events that had just occurred.
I had spent years trying to forget her, to remove her from my daily operations as easily as she had thrown me from our home. It wasn’t easy for me to forget. Though we shared few friends, we shared the same hangouts. The country bar where we had met and shared our first dance, and the coffee shop were we spent most every Saturday afternoon. The moonless roads I would drive just to rid my mind of any thoughts, in the middle of the night. I struggled to move on, but still she followed me, if only in my own thoughts.
Tonight, like many other night, I couldn’t sleep. I tired of wasting away until sleep took over, lying alone in my bed. I drove the roads instead. They are the only love I knew. They never lied to me, never hurt me, and never turned their back on me. They exist for this stranger to wonder, looking for things I would never find along their empty byways. They just exist, an attempt to comfort.
As I pulled into the driveway of my secluded home the headlamps of my worn out truck lit-up the figure sitting on my porch. I checked the green illuminated clock of my radio; it was three fifteen in the morning. The all night radio played the haunting Willie Nelson song “The Highwayman.” A chill ran down my spine, causing the hair on my neck to rise, a natural animal instinct, fight or flight. I reached over and located my loaded Colt .45. I lived in the middle of nowhere. My parents owned this house at one point. It was a quarter mile to the nearest road, no one comes unannounced, they would get lost in the moonless night sky.
As I drew closer, the figure stood its hands in the pockets of its pants. If this person’s intention was to harm me, they were getting a poor start at it. I pulled under the barn like carport killing the engine; I got out of the truck.
“What are you doing here?” I asked almost slamming the door of my rusty truck. “On second thought, you’ve got five minutes to get off my property.” I said securing the Colt in the waistband of my Levis, to the woman who I dated after the woman I’d been day dreaming about for the better part of an hour.
“Will you at least let me answer your question?” she asked walking down the steps from my porch.
“You walked out of my life three years ago. What could you possibly have to say to me now?” I asked as I pulled a small white cigarette from a pack in my shirt pocket, lighting it with a Zippo my parents had left me along with the house. “How did you find me?”
She smiled at me, “the internet.”
“They still have that?” I mocked. When my parents died I stopped finding comfort in material things like computers, Tv, the internet. I owned a landline but didn’t have an answering machine to pair with it. I get standard mail and it allows me to keep my distance from people I didn’t care to keep in contact with.
“Yeah, they still have that. Works pretty well these days too.”
“I’m not listed in the phonebook. Try again.” I replied with an edge to my voice.
“I ran into a couple of your old friends, they told me about your folks. I’m really sorry.”
We were only standing feet away from each other, “Sure you are.” I responded coldly.
“I guess I’ll go now. I just wanted to give you my condolences.” She said as she began to walk by me.
“How did you get here? I don’t see a car?”
“Bonnie dropped me off.” She answered still walking.
“Wait a minute.” I said talking hold of her arm. “You mean to tell me that Bonnie, who by the way hates you, wouldn’t shed a tear if you up and died, told you where I am living then drove you out here herself. That Bonnie?”
“That would be the one.”
“And she just left you here not knowing if or when I would be back. Bull Shit!”
“We passed your truck on the way out we gathered you were out on one of your drives. We thought you would be back soon.” She said leaning against the side of my truck.
I threw the butt of my cigarette to the ground, “That was three hours ago.”
“Has it been three hours?” she questioned looking at her watch.
I haven’t spoken to Bonnie in six months. I haven’t talked to any of my friends since the funeral. I just moved out to my parents’ house, took over the family business and dropped off the face of the earth. The way I always wanted. I just disappeared. In six months I haven’t been able to bring myself to change a thing in the house. I’ve been sleeping in my old room, my parents’ just the same as they left it. Nothing had changed, nothing.
“Were you planning on staying or walking home?” my words were soft.
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
“It’s a hell of a long walk back to town.” I said walking up to the back door and opening it.
“I should have known it would be unlocked.” She said shaking her head.
Grinning I responded quickly, “I probably would have shot you.”
“No you wouldn’t have. You wouldn’t have had your gun.”
“You can sleep on the couch; I’ll take you to town in the morning.” I said motioning her to come inside.
“Do what?” she hiccuped.
“Come on, inside, before I change my mind and leave you out here in the cold with the coyotes.” She hurried up the stairs and into the warmth of my house. “Don’t expect breakfast, I don’t cook for women I’m not sleeping with.”
“Coffee?”
“What?” I said a little confused.
“Do I at least get coffee?”
“Depends on if you tell me why you’re really here.”
“Deal”
“Good, it can wait ‘til the morning then. Help yourself to the blankets in the hall closet. Hope the chickens don’t wake you up.”
She snapped her head towards me, “You have chickens?” she asked.
“Good night.” I answered shutting my bedroom door, half laughing to myself.
I made love to her all night long. It was like we had never broken up. She held me in her arms, brushing my disheveled short hair with her slender fingers. It started slow, I rolled on to my side, and she was right beside me, watching me as she played with my hair. I leaned closer, her kiss was soft on my lips, I opened my eyes slowly, she was still watching me. She moved closer to me, kissing my forehead gently. I looked up at her connecting with her lips once more. I slid the tip of my tongue over her bottom lip, opening her mouth slightly. She allowed my tongue to touch hers. The kisses became harder and faster, then slow and soft, only lips touching. Then they became fuller, mouths open all the way, her tongue dancing with mine.
Our bodies moved closer to one another with each kiss. My right hand on her hip, massaging her back as the kisses grew fuller. Her left hand on the back of my neck pulling me into her, I was wet. I felt my pajama pants quickly becoming saturated in my own excitement. I knew she was the same in her low-rise blue panties. I could hear the lust in her moans. I slowly slid my leg between hers discovering just how right I was.
I moaned loudly, longingly as she kissed me harder. My heart began to race; I hadn’t made love to anyone in over three years. I wanted her more than I had wanted anything before. I wanted to feel her skin touching mine, bare breasts caressing each other. Lover holding lover, as we wrapped in one another limbs.
She rolled onto her back gasping for air, trying to catch her breath. I hadn’t even touched her down there yet. Weightlessly I laid on top of her sweaty body. My mind was void of thoughts, of reason or explanation.
She slid her warm strong hands under my tee shirt, prompting me to remove it. I helped her with the request. My nipples hardened with exposure to the now damp air in the room. She sat up kissing me softly, slowly removing her shirt. Bracing her, I lowered her back down on the warm bed beneath us.
“This must be a dream,” I thought to myself as I took one of her firm breasts in my hand and the other in my mouth. Her hands lay softly on my skin moving slowly from the small of my back down under my pajama pants and onto my ass. Her nails scratching their way back up the curve of my slender frame let me know that this was not a dream.
“Touch me.” She whispered, as I began to suck on one nipple while pinching the other.
“Not yet,” I answered, “I want you to remember what you gave up.”
“I’ve never forgotten,” she moaned, while I continued mouth fucking her breasts. “You were the best I ever had, before and since.”
“I know that,” I responded pulling her hands off my back and pinning them to the bed. “I can’t believe you fucked that piece of shit after me.” I said harshly as I moved my legs between hers. “How was she? Did you like the way she tasted? Did you like the way her weak hands fucked you?” I inquired of the woman she had cheated on me with.
She shook her head no, closing her eyes, hiding her soul from my testing gaze.
“Is this what you came here for?” I kissed her mouth hard. I wanted to fuck her, but I wanted her to know how bad she had hurt me. “You haven’t been able to find a better fuck?”
“That’s not why I came here.” She whispered.
“Then why? Tell me why.” I demanded.
“I’ve never stopped loving you.” She answered as she began to cry.
“Don’t cry, please.” I said softly, letting go of her hands, my arms throbbing with every beat of my heart. I rolled back on to my side. I began brushing her hair with my hand, wiping the tears from her face. She didn’t cry the night she walked out on me. It had been months since I last saw her cry, and it wasn’t at my words.
“Shush…” I said before softly kissing her mouth. Her lips were salty from the tears. I moved my hands slowly to the waistband of her panties, sliding my thumb beneath them, gently working them off her hips, down her legs, off her body and leaving them at the foot of the bed. My face was even with her belly button. I kissed her just above her hairline. Rubbing her thighs with my free hand. I could smell the salty wetness just a few inches further down. I started moving gradually through the thick patch of hair. Kissing her lightly, finally reaching her clit. Her smell was exactly as I had remembered; I expected she would taste the same.
Going down on a woman wasn’t something I typically enjoyed. I had done so with only a handful of partners, but with her it was something I couldn’t get enough of. I loved the way her entire cunt would spasm around my mouth right before she cam on my tongue. I craved this experience like a child with a favorite toy.
Her hands went straight for the back of my head. Holding my hair tightly as my tongue slid along the soft skin of her salty lips. She gasped for air when I separated her two lips, finally tasting her for the first time in years. Her wetness was exciting, assisting in the smooth gliding of my tongue and lips all around her cunt. I knew what she loved, and I wasn’t about to give it to her right away. I was enjoying myself far too much at the moment to end things too quickly.
I pulled back slightly, softly blowing the cool air from my lungs on to her clit. Her breathing quickened and became heavy with each exhale, her hands gripping my hair so tightly I’m sure she pulled some loose, this was of no concern.
“Touch me.” She whispered.
“Shush.” I licked the tip of her clit following its hardness down to the opening of her cunt. I began to tease entering her, my tongue deliberate. She was saturated with wetness. I repositioned my body between her legs; she still had a hold of my hair. I began to suck on her clit, bringing it into my mouth quickly, then releasing it slowly. With trembling hands, two fingers slid gently inside her. She arched her back, releasing a long held breath. She was so very tight; she hadn’t been touched in months.
It felt good to be inside her again, I was slow and consciously traced the curve of her g-spot, applying slight pressure as I curled my fingers toward her stomach, bringing them to the end of her pelvis, nearly removing them from her.
She wanted me to fuck her, like the time I fucked her out on the porch in her backyard, while she sat on a lawn-chair, knees spread wide for me, only a bathrobe covering her bare breasts. Like the evening I took her from behind as she was bending over the dinning table refilling a saltshaker, she took my whole hand that night, her cum dripping to the wood floor. She just wanted to be taken, to feel something erupt inside her.
She was tight around my fingers, I could have had her at any point, but I waited until she was so tight I could hardly move my hand. I moved my mouth to her breast, the moment my tongue touched her nipple she cam. Balls of sweat covered her naked body, our rhythm moved as one slow but forceful motion.
“Kiss me.” She requested looking me directly in the eyes. Her tongue was full in my mouth. I met her eyes with my own.
She touched my hand that was still inside her. She needed me to stop. She kissed me again, softly this time as I gently slid my fingers to freedom. I held her shaking body close to mine, two naked bodies lying amongst scattered blankets and sheets. Her scent lingering deep in my nose, I feel asleep intoxicated with her and pleased with myself.