Author's Commentary
Didn't touch it for a while,
then I got part 15 done yesterday. Thought I'd just put it all out at once.
Tell me whatcha think.
(Btw, there first part of this is erotica)
The walk to my apartment was quiet, aside from the rustling of the plastic bag that hung from my wrist. My arm molded around her waist, and she placed her small fingers over my hand on her hip. Her body nestled close to mine, as we marched in step, and her other hand found warmth in my pants pocket.
As we waited for the signal to change at the last crosswalk before returning to the large brick building, she brought both arms around me. Her face dug into my chest, and she closed every gap she could between my body and hers. When the walking man appeared, I gave her a gentle push forward, and she broke her hold on my body. She settled with holding my arm tightly in both of hers, leaning her head against my shoulder.
When we got back to the apartment, the room felt different. We stood together, just past the doorway, for a few extended moments. The room was the same, aside from the pregnancy test lying on the table, but the feeling was entirely different. The room was warmer, more inviting that I remembered it to be. The feeling was only slightly familiar.
“It feels like home,” she said, speaking my mind. I stood behind her, and placed my hands on her stomach. She clutched my wrists, silently promising to not let go. I leaned my head near hers, and kissed her fresh, cold cheek. She smiled, and tilted the side of her face closer to me. I kissed again, and she gripped tighter at my wrists.
Her face was irresistible to me. I kissed her cheek more times than I bother to count, finding her lips every now and then, before I moved down to her neck. One of her hands moved to my head, holding it there as I kissed, more and more slowly, the soft flesh of her neck. In almost a supersensual way, I felt her waist rub against what was hardening against it.
She had closed her eyes, and I lowered my free hand to her crotch. I carefully unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, feeling her muscles tense as I slid two fingers against her underwear. Her thigh rose up, trying to push my fingers harder against her moist panties. Her hand left my head, and pressed again against the wrist, guiding it directly to her begging pussy.
“Let’s go to the bedroom,” I muttered, my lips against her neck, as I felt my legs start to tire. She nodded her head, and we clumsily made our way to my bed, leaving my hand down her hands. She dropped her pants, and pulled me on top of her, as she lied down.
I licked her ear affectionately, feeling her squirm beneath me. She rubbed my penis hungrily through my pants, as my body held hers down. I undid my pants, and pulled them down with my boxers as she lifted up her shirt, and then I tugged off mine. As I kissed wildly at her neck, lips and cheeks, she took off her bra, and my hands immediately found her bare breasts. Her panties were the last article, as they were kicked off from around her ankles.
“The condom” she reminded me, between heavy breaths. She kept herself warm, as I leaned off the bed to grab the white plastic bag. I quickly opened the box of condoms, and pulled one out. Watching her fingers slide in and out of her in anticipation, I slid the rubber over my hard penis. Eagerly, I got back on top of her.
She placed one hand on my shoulder, and used the other to guide my penis inside her. She slowly introduced the head inside her wet hole, and pushed the shaft into her slippery pussy. Her legs wrapped around me, pushing me further inside her.
We kissed breathlessly as my piston pumped in and out of her, feeling the muscles inside her. Her hand run up and down my back, occasionally leaving vicious scratches, and I pressed my face into her neck. I could hear her moans and light grunts in my ear, as the sweat poured from both of our bodies.
As we lay there, my eyes glancing around in the lightlessness where my ceiling was, and hers closed lightly, speech was lost in the dark. A few times, I tried catching enough words from the blackness to put together a verbal thought, but they buzzed about my room too quickly, and I was too comfortable in my current position to hunt them down. I felt the shape of her face on one side of my chest, and the warmth of her breath on the other. Her palm found mine, and our fingers became wrapped in silent conversation. For a pleasant, indistinguishable amount of time, neither of us moved, aside from the rising and falling of both or chests.
As sleep was starting to envelope me, I felt her body shift. Her lips pressed against my cheek before she curled into a loose ball next to me. As slumber crept its way into our bodies, some words patiently hovered in our grasp.
“Good night.”
“Good night,” I echoed.
Within the next two weeks, I made Katelyn a key for the apartment, so she could leave and return on a whim while I worked. Every time I returned from work, I found the apartment clean; the table would be clean, despite the plate and bowl I left from breakfast, and the bed would made regardless of the previous night’s penetration, and whatever session might’ve taken place right before I left for work. She was always cheerful when I returned, and would happily assist me in my relaxation, whether it was joining me on the couch to cuddle, or in the bathroom for a hot shower. Only once or twice to I come home to the smell of tobacco.
“I found a library today” she said to me one night, as we sat on the couch, eating the mediocre dinner she had prepared. I had my arm around her, and we were positioned in an awkward way that complimented both our figures in a comfortable fashion. There was one plate balanced between both out laps, and she speared at the food as we spoke.
“Oh?” I had known about the library, though I never bothered to go in. I never thought that it would be a place of her interest, either. She lifted a piece of carrot with her fork, and watched as it disappeared into my mouth.
“Yes, sir.” She had picked up the habit of adding the word ‘sir’ after every affirmative or negative statement. ‘Yes, sir.’ ‘No, sir.’ I didn’t know why she did this, and I never bothered to ask where she picked it up from. “I picked up a book,” she added.
“What book?” I asked, in half interest. Her choice of book didn’t really matter to me, but I was happy that she had found something to occupy herself with.
“The Phantom Tollbooth by Norton Juster,” she recited brightly. I’m sure she had spent the day memorizing the title and author, proud to announce it to me when this conversation came about. The title set off a spark in my brain, and she noticed it in my eyes. “Have you read it before?”
“One of my favorite books as a kid!” I told her, my mouth half full of food. I hoped that I didn’t come off as diminishing, remembering the story to excite me at the age of twelve, where she was currently sixteen. She was perhaps a bit old to be reading the children’s novel, but I always felt it was a timeless book. I decided to continue the conversation before any negative connotations set in. “Have you started it yet?”
“No, sir. I’m going to start it tonight. Right when we get into bed.” I could hear the anticipation in her voice. She had likely been waiting for me to get home, so she could have me by her side as she read. I was puzzled by her fascination with a simple piece of literature, until it occurred to me that she likely never did much reading growing up.
“Let’s go to bed right after dinner, then,” I said, before taking another forkful into my mouth.
“Okay!” She blushed lightly, realizing she forgot to conceal her enthusiasm. She cuddled closer against me. Almost before I could finish chewing, I found another piece of food at my lips, in her effort to get dinner finished. There wasn’t much concern over savoring the meal’s flavor anyway; the food wasn’t a culinary masterpiece, but at least it was edible.
“Your cooking has gotten better,” I told her, when I got a chance to speak.
We made ourselves cozy in the bed, and I had decided to join her by picking up the classic, Huckleberry Finn, which I had started long ago, but never finished. She opened up her small blue book to the first page, and started to read the words. I tried doing the same with my book, but soon became distracted by the way her lips slowly formed the words she read. I found it cute, in a child-like way what very much contrasted the maturity I usually saw in her. She came to a word which she was unfamiliar with, and asked me what it was.
“You never read too much, did you?” I asked, trying to sound as understanding as I could. She shrugged.
“No, sir. Reading was never a big thing when I was a kid. There weren’t really any books around the house.” She put her eyes back on the page, and continued struggling with the words. I smiled at her, and laid there patiently as she worked her way into the first chapter. Within a few minutes, she pressed the book against my chest.
“Read it to me,” she demanded, expressing more of the childishness which I found adorable.
“But I thought you wanted to read it? And you should practice reading,” I told her lightly.
“I’ll read it myself while you’re working. I want you to get me into the story first.” I picked up the paperback in compliance, and found the first page. She wrapped her arm around me, and rested her head on my chest, as I started to steadily read the words aloud to her. She listened intently and I ran my fingers along her bare back as I read; and we made our way into the Kingdom of Knowledge.
As I locked the door to café, ending a late shift, I realized how quickly work went by when I had something pleasant to go home to. I stopped in at the bar for a pale lager, and the tender welcomed me with a smile of recognition. She had the drink ready before I got to the counter. “How was work?”
We had grown familiar with each other a period of a few weeks. I would go in occasionally after work, to pick up a couple of beers for me and Katelyn to share. When I sat down to talk to her, she would give me a drink on the house, and we had gotten into the habit of speaking about our lives. I was careful to leave out any details about the existence of the runaway I was keeping in my home.
“Two beers to go?” she asked, almost rhetorically, as I drained the last drops from my glass mug. The slight draft of chilly air that came at me as someone opened the door reminded me that Summer was starting to turn into Autumn. The clinks of glass bottles sounded before me. “A party to go.”
I smiled to her; it was a small joke we had, that originated from my lonely hour many nights earlier. Her grinned back to me; she had a very pretty smile. Her blonde hair was tied back, with the bangs framing her face. She was a pretty girl, and smart, as well – as she told me, she had actually graduated from a rather respectable university. I’m not sure how she got into bartending, but she had a great personality to fit it.
“You come in here a lot,” she noted, as she handed me my change. I shrugged.
“Beer’s a nice thing after work.” She smiled to this, and then bit her lip.
As I walked home, the two beers in my hand, I contemplated what had just happened. It didn’t surprise me so much that she had asked me asked me out to a drink, but rather the reason I declined. A month or so earlier, I would have taken her up on it in an instant, but tonight I told her that I “wasn’t sure if it was a good time for me to be dating.” Though I said this to hide a truth, it wasn’t altogether a lie. A feeling of confusion squirmed around inside me.
When I got inside the apartment, Katelyn was sitting on the couch, engrossed in a book. She had taken up reading as a way to pass the time while I was away, and this was her fourth or fifth book since discovering the library. As I walked in, she put down the copy of Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, careful to save her page with a receipt for cigarettes which she used as a bookmarker. I handed her a bottle, and grabbed a bottle opener from the Kitchen area. When I sat down, she leaned into me.
We sat quietly, her body against my chest, and my arm around her, as emptied the brown bottles. It had become a common thing, and it was very pleasant for both of us. She drank in a sensitive, thoughtful manner, never swigging thirstily for the intoxication, like many of the people of her age.
“What are we?” I asked eventually.
“Humans,” she said, and she started to giggle lightly. I squeezed her arm affectionately.
“I mean, you and I, what’s between us?” She thought about it for a minute, and pressed her frame closer against my body.
“I don’t know.” There was a look of thought of her face.
“I don’t know either.”
We sat and sipped quietly for a little while longer. The couch had a blanket and pillow on it. It was technically supposed to be her bed, though she never slept in it. We ended every night with sex, cuddling or talking, or some combination of those, and she would end up falling asleep in my bed with me. Neither of us bothered to remove the bedding from the couch.
“I like drinking with you after work,” she told me. “I’m not crazy about alcohol, but I like helping you relax.” I kissed her softly and then deeply, and I could smell beer elegantly on her breath. Our bottles were emptied, and we abandoned them on the table. She took a gentle yet firm grasp of my wrists, and we headed to our bedroom.
Digg
del.icio.us
Stumbleupon
Reddit
Furl
Facebook
