Hope (4 page)

“I’m so sorry, Mary, I don’t know what got into him.  He was a good kid, was going to play football at college but got injured instead and ended up stuck in his hometown as a waiter.  I guess it’s hitting him harder than we all thought.  I’ll speak to his parents and…”

“No, let’s not make any trouble for him, it’s not his fault.”

“Mary, he can’t go around just…”

“Can we please drop it?”

“Well… ok, but… ok.  You sure?”

“Yes, let’s just forget it.  I still had a great time, Clinton, but if you wanted to put your arm over my shoulder while we walk to help me feel safe, that would be fine.”

Clinton hesitated for a fraction of a second then put his arm around me, pulling me close as we passed all of Riverfield’s points of interest from our previous walk in reverse.  The return stroll was quieter than the first but felt so much more intimate, maybe because we had shared the experience of an, admittedly, minor conflict.  The evening air had a mild chill to it and I was glad to have his body to press against and keep warm.  We arrived at our neighbouring houses and Clinton turned to me.

“Would you like to come in for a coffee, I’ve got some of the Irish persuasion this time if you like?”

“Absolutely.”

Once again I found myself on Clinton’s couch but this time he sat with me, our legs nearly touching as we made more small talk and the warmth from the enhanced coffee spread through our bodies.  By the time Clinton finished his mug he was apparently fortified by enough Dutch courage.

“Mary, you’re amazing… would it be ok if I kissed you yet?”

“Let’s find out.”

I leaned in close to him, but not all the way, letting him close the distance himself.  I peered out through my almost-closed eyelids as he approached, anxiously awaiting the first contact of our lips outside of fantasy.  Our mouths met and an electric current of excitement surged through me.  His kiss was so different to all I could remember, strong but gentle, not frantic and crazed like those whose minds were lost to my curse.  His tongue reached out to lightly brush the tip of my own, as if they too were sharing a brief kiss.

I mimicked his movement with my tongue but lingered longer, maintaining contact under the intimate seal of our lips as I pushed him sideways on the couch and followed until I was lying on top of him.  I spread my legs, causing my skirt to ride up, and planted my knees on the cushions to either side of his hips while we slowly kissed and enjoyed the feel of each other’s lips gently playing together.

Breaking off the kiss I sat up straight, feeling a growing hardness inside his pants pressing between my legs as I pulled a hairband out of my ponytail and shook my hair out before leaning forward again, pushing my soft chest against him.  Our lips met once more and my hair fell all around us like a silky red privacy curtain, shielding our intimate moment from the outside world.  Clinton’s hands settled on my hips as his body unconsciously pushed his crotch towards mine.

I detached my lips from his and closed my eyes, feeling as much detail of his hardening manhood as I could through our clothes.  I slowly thrust my hips back and forth, the friction transferring through my panties on to my dampening sex as I brought my lips back to his.  I loved the firm but tender quality of his kisses, they conveyed a lustful need tempered by an underlying affection.  A part of me felt like it would have been quite happy to be lost in that make-out session forever but there was a growing need between my legs that cried out for release.

“Do you have a bedroom in this place?” I breathed into his ear.

“I think so.”

I leaned back and Clinton sat up.  I half crawled off of him but he stopped me and lifted me in his arms when he stood as if I weighed no more than a feather.  I explored his body with one hand as he carried me out of the room starting from the side of his face where rough stubble rubbed pleasantly on my palm.  Down his neck it roamed and across one muscular shoulder to his upper arm where a hard and well-proportioned bicep flexed to its current task.  Finally my hand ended up resting against his chest where I could feel his excited heart beating a mad drum solo.

Down a short hallway we went until Clinton kicked a door open with his foot and we stepped into darkness.  I couldn’t see a thing but he was clearly familiar with the layout and walked confidently to a bed, slowly lowering me on to it before crawling over me between my legs and reaching out to a bedside table and turned on a lamp that provided soft light.  Starting from the top I unbuttoned his shirt as he hovered above, his hands planted on the bed to either side of me.  Each button undone revealed more of his body and when his shirt hung loose I pushed it off him eagerly.

I unzipped my skirt and squirmed out of it while still underneath Clinton and cast it aside before wrapping my legs around him.  My panties were sliding freely against my folds as the now fully hard bulge in Clinton’s pants pushed against the material with each small grind of his hips.  I moaned softly and bit my lip, surprised by the realisation that there was a chance he could make me climax if he kept these same small motions going for much longer.

Clinton’s kisses travelled slowly down the side of my face and along my neck to the material of my shirt and then back upwards to my lips, his gentle movements against my clit never stopped and were driving me wild.  I wrapped my legs around him again, trapping him in place and I grabbed my own wrist behind his back, crushing myself to his chest as my orgasm suddenly rocked my body.  I struggled to stay quiet, I didn’t want him to change his rhythm or do anything except keep on grinding against me.  I sucked in air through clenched teeth, and desperately tried to stifle the whimpers as pins and needles of pleasure prickled my skin.

As my orgasm faded I released my strangle hold with arms and legs, creating space between us.  Reaching down I began to fumble with his belt but his strong hand grabbed at mine effectively stopping me.

“Wait.  I… I can’t do this.”

I struggled with an unexpected strength of the emotions that washed over me.  I’d been irresistible for a thousand years and, shamefully, the first thing that I felt was anger at the rejection.  That quickly passed and left me feeling scared and vulnerable.  Hope is a dangerous thing, it puts you up on a rickety shelf where you can get knocked down and fall hard.

“Don’t you… like me?” I whispered, feeling tears well up in my eyes.

“Yes… Mary, look at me.”

I blinked away what I could and slowly raised my eyes to look into his.

“I do like you… a lot.  I’ve never felt so attracted to anybody since… my wife.  It’s just that this is all moving so fast for me.  Over the past week I’ve found my mind straying to you all the time, but every time I start to think about you I feel guilty like I’m betraying her.  I loved her, Mary.  I’m scared that part of me is broken.  I want it to be fixed but I don’t know how.”

Clinton moved out from between my legs and over to the side before lying on his back with his head propped up on a pillow.  Sheepishly I shuffled upwards between his arm and his body and rested my head at his shoulder.  We were silent for a while before I spoke.

“What was her name?”

“Kristen.”

“Will you tell me about her?”

“Uh… ok… I guess.   Where should I start?”

“Where did you meet?”

“We met during college, we both studied at Westholt University and one night I was out with my friends, she was out with her friends, and we just so happened to be at the same club at the same time.  I spotted her on the dance floor and my friend caught me staring at her, told me to go talk to her.  I was just a shy guy from a little town called Riverfield, never knew what to say so I fumbled around with excuses before he called me a stupid asshole and went to speak to her himself.  I thought he was going to try his luck but he was a one of a kind friend and the next thing I knew,
she
came to talk to
me
.  We hit it off straight away, the conversation was all so easy.  The following Thursday we went on our first official date.”

Clinton paused and raised his opposite hand to cover his eyes, I saw tears run down his cheeks in the dim light of the bedside lamp.

“We were going to see a movie but we met up early so she could give me a quick walking tour of the area.  She grew up in Westholt, you see.  I remember… I remember.”

I put my arm over his torso, trying to give what wordless comfort I could as he struggled against the pain of his memories.

“I remember I was talking about what a big city it was.  She said if I held her hand I would never get lost.  So I held her hand and she held mine.  But she lied, Mary.  I never let go but now I’ve been lost for four years.”

Clinton went on to describe the rest of their university years, how they moved back to his hometown of Riverfield and he landed a job at the university in the closest city while she tried to establish a small legal practice in town.  Years went by, things were going well and Kristen got pregnant.  Although the pregnancy was normal, something just went horribly wrong during labour and Clinton lost wife and child at the same time.

We talked late into the night and at some point we fell asleep.

*****

I awoke alone in the bed to the smell of bacon shortly before Clinton walked into the room with a plate on a tray.

“You made me breakfast in bed?”

“True story.  I would have asked whether you eat meat but the way you demolished that lasagne last night would make the question kind of pointless.”

I sat up and he set the tray down on my lap before rearranging the pillows behind me so I could sit comfortably.

“Bacon and Eggs on toast, simple but tasty.” He said, sitting down “Listen, about last night.  I’m sorry, once again I’ve dumped all that heavy stuff on you.  I know you’re not here to save me, you’re wonderful person in your own right and I’ll understand if you don’t want an anchor named Clinton dragging you down.”

“You’re not dragging me down, Clinton, but you’re right in a way.  If we do try to make something out of this, you’ve got to like me for me.  I can’t replace Kristen, I don’t want to and I’m not trying to.  I think I would have liked her, maybe we could have been friends if the world was a different place.  I think she would want you to be happy, don’t you?”

“Yes, I’m sure of it.  I really don’t want to marry my grandmother though, so if you’re still agreeable to giving us a chance, I’d like that.”

“As long as this breakfast tastes good, I’m all for it.”

“Well, taste is subjective so let’s use a fair baseline for your judgement.  How about as long as it tastes better than, say, the most recent piece of banana cake you consumed, you’re in this relationship?”

I laughed and threw a pillow at him.

*****

The next month was both the happiest and most guilt-ridden time of my life.  Clinton and I saw more and more of each other and the line between ‘my place’ and ‘his place’ became blurred, though we spent more time at his because he had such things as ‘furniture’.  We never went all the way but the passion was certainly there, we brought each other to climax numerous times with a variety of methods.  Whenever we fell asleep together, my back pressed to his front and his arms around me, I slept like a baby.  I was a bit nervous at first that I would one day wake in the middle of the night to find Clinton had succumbed to my curse and was feverishly thrusting into me, his mind gone, but it didn’t happen.  I felt safe, protected… I felt like I’d found home.

Yes, I was happy, and that’s what made me feel so guilty because the actions I had to take to keep the power of my curse at bay were a betrayal to Clinton.  Several betrayals actually.  Over that month I believe I must have had sex with every unattached man in Riverfield.  Even the men I had sex with when I first arrived were falling under the power of my allure again.

They say that when you first take some of the more frowned upon drugs you feel an incredible high but the next time you do them you never achieve that same height.  Each time you take them the high is lower and eventually you need the drugs just to feel normal.  Something similar was happening with my curse.  No matter how many men I had sex with it seemed that more and more of those whom I didn’t approach, married or involved men, were beginning to act out of character.  If they walked by my house they would stop and stare for a while, if I was walking down the street they stopped their cars or stopped looking where they were going.  I knew, from experience, that if I stayed much longer I would be on the receiving end of a town-sized gangbang.

I stalled as long as I could, desperately holding on to my new found hope, cherishing my time with Clinton but one day I realised something that dashed that hope upon the rocks.  I loved Clinton.  I loved him with all my heart but my curse was unbeatable and I was on the verge of bringing the town of Riverfield down on top of him, which would be a crushing blow.  I knew I had to save him from that, so I decided I had to let him go.  I had to leave town for him to ever find someone who deserved him so he could be happy.

I resolved to leave the very next day but I had to tell him.  I spent an hour sitting on my mostly packed suitcase rehearsing what I was going to say.  None of the conversations in my head went very well but when I finally plucked up the courage to go next door and speak to him it went so much worse.

I knocked on his door and stepped back, wringing my hands.  I was about to knock again when the door opened and Clinton stood there with his arms crossed, his usual smile replaced by a face that wouldn’t have been out of place at the world poker championships.  Except for his eyes, they blazed as darkly as mine were bright.  He was furious about something but I had to say what I needed to say.

“Clinton, I have to leave town.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

I was shocked into silence for a moment, my mouth hung open in an ‘O’ of surprise before I closed it and swallowed.  To hear him speak to me like that was more than I could bear.

“Why…”

“Let me tell you a little story.  I went out with some of the other teachers from the school last night, down to the bar for a few beers.  It’s not a huge town, Mary, everybody knows everybody so we talked with each other and a few other people we met there.  I mentioned you and that sparked… an extremely god damned unexpected conversation.  It turns out I’m pretty much the only man in town you
haven’t
been fucking.  You got me good.  Well done.  I thought I meant something to you.  How could you do this to me?”