Chapter 5

I really don’t remember a whole lot about that kiss. I know I tasted my own semen but I don’t remember tasting it. All I remember is wanting to kiss her forever. I think I might have actually said that.

She rolled back and reached for the alarm clock on her night stand, holding it up and peering at it.

“No time for that, now.” She put the alarm clock back and rolled to face me again. “What’s the most you ever did with a girl?”

“I kissed a lot,” I said.

“Did you ever finger a girl?”

“No. The girls I dated wouldn’t go that far. If I got to feel a breast I felt like I was the luckiest guy in the world. I feel like that now.”

“I’m going to give you a crash course in touching a woman. That’s all the time we have and I need something or I’ll sound desperate when I talk to your mother.”

She started ordering me around, telling me to look at her vagina (like I might have resisted doing that) and pulling apart those fat, bald lips to let me see my first clitoris. She demonstrated how to rub it and how to slide a finger inside her. Then she pulled me back up until I was lying beside her. She was still on her back with her legs spread and she told me to rub her “like that.”

There was a “Not so hard! Gently!” and then some things like, “Yes, like that,” and “Ohhh, yes, I knew you’d be good at this,” as I learned quickly.

It was on-the-job training, really, but I figured out that if I circled her clit and then rubbed it back and forth a few times and then slid my middle finger way into her scorching hot depths while pressing her bump hard with the pad of my thumb and then did that again, her hips bumped up and the noises she made caused my balls to ache and my penis try to stiffen again.

“Faster!” she gasped. “Suck my nipples!”

I had been watching her face while she made those noises and it was awesome. She was beautiful, but it looked like she was in crippling pain, except her voice made it clear she loved whatever it was she was feeling. When she told me to suck her nipples I looked at her heaving breasts and was shocked, because it was really the first time I’d gotten to actually look at them. Her nipples weren’t flat anymore. They were sticking out like little pencil erasers. I had kissed those nipples before and kissed all around them. Now I lowered my head and sucked one. I didn’t know how hard to suck, but I figured softly was the way to start. My mouth kind of went on auto pilot. Maybe it remembered sucking from my mother’s breasts when I was a baby. Anyway I needed to think about my hand so I just let my mouth do its thing. At some point I realized the rhythm of my sucking was in time with the rhythm of my fingers as they rubbed her.

Again, I can’t estimate the time it took but I hadn’t been sucking that nipple very long when she took in this deep breath and her hips pushed up into the air, clear off the mattress. The groan that came out of her throat would have scared me to death if she had sounded like that when I kicked Asshole in the balls. I would have been positive she was dying in that scenario. But this wasn’t that scenario and as I lifted my lips from that turgid nipple and looked at her face, the groan turned into a wail that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. It was incredible. In those few seconds I felt like the most powerful man in the world. I had made her feel like this. It was my fingers and lips that had released the demons inside her, forcing them out of her. That’s what it felt like.

Of course now I know it was just a really good orgasm, one that she needed on many levels. In one sense I did exorcise the pain he had left behind because a significant part of that orgasm had little to do with what I was doing. The important part, in her mind that it was me doing it, and it gave her hope that she really might be able to move past the trauma of being an abused wife. Later I would learn how to manipulate her sexual organs and erogenous zones to give her many more luscious orgasms, but this first one was special for both of us.

Her hand came to make me stop, but there was no rejection in it. She just made my hand stop moving. When she rolled to face me again my finger came out of her and my hand was dislodged. I laid it on her hip as her arms went around my neck and she kissed me again.

Naturally, that was when my phone rang.

It was my mother and she said I should come home and eat, and that she’d come over to stay with Valerie.

I never got dressed so fast in my life.

I managed to be on the couch when Mom opened the door and came in. I was afraid the scent of Valeri’s pussy would be on my hand and waft to my mother’s nose, but she just walked past me and said, “How is she?”

“She’s still in bed,” I said. “I tried not to disturb her.”

“Good. Sleep is what she needs. You go on and eat. I’ll take over, now.”

I got up and hoped Valerie had had time to straighten out the covers and get back under them and all that. When I had left she’d been lying there like a broken doll, just staring dreamily up at nothing. Her legs were akimbo and her vulva was displayed like some of the pictures I had seen on the internet.

I realized I was limping as I crossed her yard and went onto ours. Nothing hurt. There was no reason for me to limp. I think my mind was so furiously engaged in all that had happened that it didn’t have enough free bandwidth to make my legs work normally. I took a deep breath and straightened my stride.

When I got home Dad was already in his recliner, watching the nightly news. In the kitchen I found meatloaf, boiled potatoes, and black eyed peas. I ate, suddenly ravenous, even though I’d eaten only three or four hours earlier. When I was finished I put my dishes in the dishwasher, put the leftovers in the fridge, and then went to the computer. I entered some data so I’d have at least some work for the day and tried to catch up. I was still at it when my mother came back home.

“That poor girl has a long road ahead of her,” she sighed.

“What’s that?” said my dad, looking away from the TV. I just turned my desk chair around to face her.

“She’s practically disabled because of having to see that man in court, today. It brought back all the memories. She’s having flashbacks. I tried to get her to go to the hospital and seek some kind of help but she won’t go. She wanted me to stay all night.”

“I guess you could do that,” said Dad.

“It tears my heart out to see her like that,” moaned Mom.

“Well, I can’t go,” said Dad. “I have to go to work, tomorrow.”

“I’ll do it,” I sighed. “I can sign into my work on her laptop and get some work done. I’m way behind because of having to go to court.”

“She may get up. If she does, you need to pay attention to her instead of working,” said Mom. “She needs to eat something.”

“I’ll make her a grilled cheese sandwich,” I said. “I’m sure she has some cans of vegetables around somewhere. I can open one of those and heat it up in the microwave.”

“Are there leftovers from supper?” she asked.

“Maybe enough for one meal,” I said.

“Well take them with you. If she gets up and will eat something heat that up. It will be faster than making a grilled cheese sandwich and she may not want you mucking around in her kitchen.”

My mother thought all women cherished their kitchens like she did.

She packed up the leftover meatloaf in one container and the potatoes in another. I had finished off the black eyed peas.

“See if she has a vegetable to go with this but don’t snoop,” said Mom.

“I’ve spend a lot of time over there, Mom,” I groaned. “She’s fed me before. Don’t worry. I’ll be sure not to add to her trauma.”

“I just worry. I know she feels safe when you’re there. Nothing will happen but I can’t convince her of that. She needs professional help.”

“I think she has a therapist,” I said. “I think she said something about going to see him one time. I’ll ask her how to get in touch with him. Maybe he’ll be able to help.”

“Be careful how you bring that up,” she said. “She’s feeling helpless and ashamed and who knows what else. She may be sensitive about people judging her.”

“I’m not going to judge her,” I said.

“I know that, but when you suggest to someone that they need help they can feel like they’re being judged.”

“I’ll just talk to her,” I said. “That’s what I did when she was recovering from the attack, itself. I can read something to her, you know, take her mind off of her problems. She’s got lots of books lying around.”

“That’s a good idea.” I started to go and she barked, “Wait!”

I stopped and just looked at her.

“I should call and make sure she’s comfortable with it being you,” she said. “She may not want a man in her house all night.”

“Well, make up your mind,” I complained. I felt like my role in this movie would demand that I be a little impatient or surly.

She called asked how she’d feel if Bobby came and spent the night, and then hung up.

“She said she’s not afraid of you. Go on. If you need anything call.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I said.

Then I left my house to go get laid for the first time in my life.

She was in the kitchen, wearing her Oriental robe when I got there. I showed her the food and she said, “Yum. Remind me to thank your mother.”

She ate and then did the same things we did at our house, clearing off the table and putting dishes in the dish washer. I watched her doing these little domestic chores and just felt good. I wasn’t antsy or overeager. I was sure about what was going to happen and we had all night. I’ve always liked the anticipation of opening gifts on Christmas morning, or on my birthday. Imagination can be better than the actual gift, sometimes, but that never hurt anything. My imagination about what would happen tonight consisted mainly of the memories of what we’d already done. I’d stretch out next to her, feel her hot body against mine, kiss her a million times and touch her again. I didn’t think she’d put her mouth on me again, but my fantasy extended to maybe me being able to put my mouth on her. I had heard guys talking about that and always been a little curious about what that would be like. There had always been trepidation associated with that thought; a sort of ‘ick factor’, but it wasn’t there with Valerie. I couldn’t imagine doing anything with her that wouldn’t be fabulous.

She closed the dishwasher and turned around. She leaned against the counter and crossed her arms, making the robe over her breasts bulge out.

“I don’t want your father to be right,” she said.

“About what?”

“About one of us getting our heart broken.”

“I don’t plan on breaking your heart,” I said.

“Are you going to college?”

“Some day,” I responded. “Maybe next year, maybe the year after that. It kind of depends on when I have enough money to pay for a whole year so I don’t have to have student loans that year.”

“So, if I fall in love with you, in a year or two you might go away to college, where there will be tons of women looking for a guy exactly like you, and one of them will take you away from me?”

I stared at her. Our relationship had always been kind of foggy. I’d gotten glimpses of the world and what the future could be like (at least in my fantasies) but the picture was never clear. She was blowing the fog away, now, actually talking about the future and ... us. The fact that she was anticipating there to be an “us” that far in the future brought home to me the seriousness of all this. It wasn’t fun and games in her mind. It wasn’t fun and games in my mind, either, but that didn’t mean a lot because I believed you didn’t do these kinds of things with a woman you weren’t willing to marry.

Of course marriage was completely ridiculous to think about but somehow my values had gotten hijacked. That didn’t matter. What mattered was that she thought this was very serious and that made me think along those lines, too.

“We’re in some kind of relationship,” I said. “I believe that. I don’t understand it fully, yet, but I get that it’s an actual relationship. How long were you thinking this relationship might last?”

“That’s part of what is making this difficult,” she said. “I know what I want to do with you now. Normally, I wouldn’t do that. Normally, I would be more careful. I thought I was being careful with Randy but I couldn’t see the forest for the trees. I’m not worried about that right now and that’s a little bit ... frightening. I think your mother is right. I really am vulnerable right now. It’s not as bad as she thinks it is but it may be affecting my judgment.”

I thought about my own situation.

“Do you feel like your value system is off the rails a little bit?” I asked.

She tilted her head.

“Maybe. Maybe that’s it.”

“I was always taught to wait until I got married to have sex,” I said. “I grew up believing that and if I was on a date with a girl I asked myself if she was the one; if I might want to marry her. The answer was always no. I still got excited, but I just jerked off instead of trying to have sex. But I came over here tonight fully expecting to have sex and it didn’t bother me at all. I was ... am ... eager to do it. I love being with you, like that and lots of other ways. I never once thought about marriage when it came to you and even the idea of marriage between us is ludicrous. But I don’t care. I still want to make love with you, so I get it. My value system kind of derailed, too.”

“So, maybe what we should be is friends, with benefits?” she said.

“Well, I already think of you as my friend, kind of, or me as your friend, maybe. And I think you already know how much I’d like the benefits part.”

“I feel more strongly about you than ‘friends’,” she said. “I shouldn’t, but I do. If we keep going, by the time you go to college I might get my heart broken. I already know a long distance romance won’t work. I feel alone and lost when you’re just a hundred feet away, at your own house.”

“Wow,” I said.

“Yeah, wow,” she replied. “If your mother is right and I’m vulnerable, I’m not worried that you might take advantage of me. I’m worried that I might be rebounding, and the last heart I want to break is yours.”

“I don’t think you need to be worried about breaking my heart,” I said.

“And why’s that?” she asked.

“Because you’re so far out of my league that if you kicked me out right now I’d still feel like the luckiest guy on Earth. I’ve already had enough intimacy with you to last a lifetime in my memory. I’d be sad, yes, but my heart wouldn’t be broken. I might compare girls I meet in the future to you, and they’d suffer for it, but I’d keep trying until I found a girl I could fall in love with.”

“I’m not out of your league, Bob,” she said, softly. “You have no idea how much of a unicorn you are. Women will flock to you when you go to college. You, my young friend, are a chick magnet.”

“I don’t see it. I’m still surprised that a woman like you has any interest in me at all.”

“Would you get off that ‘woman like you’ crap?” she sighed. “Yes, I’m blessed with an appearance most men find attractive. That doesn’t mean I’m better, or smarter, or above average in anything. I’m just a woman, Bob; a woman who made the mistake of marrying the wrong man. What I feel for you is strong. If I’m rebounding I’m rebounding hard enough to crush the ball. I crave being around you and touching you and having you touch me. Do you remember when you kissed my owies away?”

“Ohhh, yeah,” I sighed.