Redemption For Two (7 page)

“What a fucking turn-on,” Mickey said.

“For you, maybe.”

That was the first thing she had said to him since leaving the house. Mickey took her in his arms and held her, even though she was stiff as a board, resisting him with every inch of willpower she had, which was considerable.

“Lighten up, you gorgeous cunt,” he said softly. “Have a little fun for a change, why don’t you?”

“This isn’t my idea of fun.”

“I’m going to fuck you, right here on this table.”

“Jesus, Mickey. We can’t...”

“We can,” he said. “Just watch.”

“Mickeyyyyyy...”

He spread the afghan over the end of the bolted picnic table and lifted her bodily to sit on it. Sandy reached back with her bound hands for support, and lay back on her elbows. Mickey unbuckled his pants and reached down to lift her legs. She wrapped them around his hips, ankles crossed behind.

“See?” he said.

“I’m dry as a bone,” she said, and swallowed hard.

Mickey rubbed the head of his cock into her soft center, and she squirmed with the sudden pressure.

“You’re wet enough,” he said, and pressed into her.

Sandy’s head dropped back and her mouth sagged. The breath gusted out of her throat and her legs tightened spasmodically around him, pulling him in, which was probably not what she intended.

“Easy,” she groaned. “Ow...hey...ow! You’re hurting me. Take it...easy.”

“That’s a song, I think,” he said, and bent to suck her nipples.

Sandy had been right. She wasn’t wet enough. But Mickey fucked her anyway, driving hard and then harder until she was gasping with the thrusting impacts and sucking air in harsh gulps. He couldn’t get enough of touching her, squeezing breast and hip and shoulder, anywhere he could reach. And when he came, it felt like someone had punched him in the belly. He cried out, spurting into her, and Sandy forced herself up to kiss him with sudden wild heat.

He clung to her for a long time, and when they were calmer, he got her up and walked her naked back to the house. Sandy was very quiet. Sperm slid down the insides of her legs, making her skin shine in the streetlights. Mickey had never seen her looking more beautiful.

It made him wish he had spanked her, too.

Chapter Nine

The paint job at Ponz’s was done by nine-thirty the next morning. When Mickey got home with his newest twenty dollar bill, Sandy was in full housecleaning mode. He spent an hour getting his dive gear sorted out for Monday. There wasn’t much for it. She wasn’t talking to him. Eventually, he went to try to break down some walls.

“I’ve got to go down to the dive shop and have a tank refilled,” he said when everything else was done. “How about come with me? We’ll go to lunch.”

“We had lunch at the beach yesterday,” she said. “And you bought flowers, too, which we couldn’t afford. Besides, I’m busy.”

“Too busy for the beach? We don’t get to go laze around together very much, and with Cindy gone...”

“No,” she said, stiff backed, and then unbent just a fraction. “There’s just too much to do, Mickey. I’ll never get this house cleaned up if I take off for the beach whenever you decide we ought to go.”

“Come on. A couple of beers and a towel, like we used to do.”

He was wheedling, and knew it. She’d put her pretty foot down, end of discussion. He’d gotten his way and done something she absolutely, positively didn’t want to do, and she was damned if he would have another chance. That didn’t sit well with Mickey. Not the refusal so much, but the reason for it. With great deliberation, he tipped the mop bucket over and spilled dirty water onto her clean floor.

“You son of a bitch,” she said with icy calm.

“Might as well have something to do,” he said, and stormed out.

Mickey knew that it was the same old shit. She was going to have her way, and he could just take a flying fuck at the proverbial rolling donut, as far as she was concerned. Sandy could be a subtly controlling woman, but this wasn’t one of those times. Usually, she was one of those prideful givers, the kind of person who was always helping, always shoving things along under the guise of giving herself to others. It was a form of masochism that Mickey had not understood for a long time. But he was beginning to get it, slow but sure.

He sat in the truck for a minute, engine running, thinking about it, and then he turned the ignition off and went back into the house. Sandy was sitting on the couch crying with her elbows on her knees and her face buried in her hands. Mickey picked up the mop and cleaned the floor. She didn’t move. When he was done, he poured the dirty water out and rinsed everything clean. Sandy still hadn’t moved. He sighed and went to take her hand. She didn’t fight him, but she didn’t help, either.

“Come on,” he said. “We’re going to the beach.”

She squinted at him like he was some shadowy figure in heavy fog. “All right,” she said in a dead voice.

They locked up and got in the truck. Sandy stayed outside while Mickey took the scuba bottle in at the dive shop and waited for a fill. He paid his six bucks and carried the tank back outside. Sandy had opened the door and was sitting with her legs extended into the sun. She had on her tackiest cut-off jeans, the ones Mickey had trimmed too short and she wouldn’t wear out of the house because it made her thighs bulge right at the hip.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit,” she said.

“We’ll go up on the north end of Juno,” he said, stowing the tank. “You can swim in your underwear.”

“I’m not wearing any.” She looked out the window, not at him, and said, “You going to parade me around naked again, Mickey?”

“I might,” he said shortly.

“Figures,” she said.

In the old days, Juno Beach had been neatly divided into three segments. Condos on the south end, public beach access north of that, and then further north, just scrub and wilderness and skinny dipping. Sandy had been there, but had always refused steadfastly to take off whatever bikini she happened to have on at the time. The most conservative of her bathing suits wouldn’t have made a handkerchief on its best day, and Mickey always thought she looked more naked wearing one than she did when she wasn’t wearing anything at all. It didn’t seem reasonable to him, although he loved the mix of brazen and shy that was Sandy in a nutshell.

He stopped at the swift mart for a six-pack, and loaded the small cooler that lived behind the seat in his truck. Sandy made no comment about the expenditure, but asked for cigarettes. Saturday traffic was unreasonable. They found a parking spot on the north end and scrambled down the sharp bank and across the scruffy dune line. They hadn’t brought a towel or a blanket, and sat on the sand side by side, not quite touching each other. Mickey opened two beers and passed Sandy one.

“I’m scared,” she said after a long silence.

“You’re the toughest, sweetest cunt I know.”

“Whatever that means,” she said with a sour look, and lapsed into silence again. She tried to light a cigarette but the wind kept blowing the cheap lighter out. She threw it down with sudden fury and said, “God
damn
!”

Mickey retrieved the lighter and lit the cigarette for her. She wouldn’t look at him, but took it, and smoked without speaking again for a long time. They opened two more beers and drank them.

“It’s hot,” Mickey said. “I’m going for a dip.”

Sandy didn’t reply. He kicked his shoes off and peeled off his shirt.

“Don’t forget your wallet,” she said then.

“It’s locked up in the truck.”

The water was summertime calm and warm but cool at the same time. Mickey made a flat sort of dive and swam out a good way, relishing the caress of the sea and not quite sure what to do. Maybe he’d gone too far with Sandy this time. He lay on his back for awhile, being pushed back toward the beach without any real urgency by the small waves, and when he stood up in the shallows, it was to see Sandy standing by the cooler, taking off her shirt.

Mickey looked up and down the beach. No one was particularly close or even paying attention. Sandy dropped her blouse onto the cooler and walked straight toward him in her narrow black bra and the cut offs.

“Hi, sailor,” she said brightly.

“Still scared?” he asked.

“Got you to protect me, don’t I?”

She dove sideways and swam out toward where Mickey had been. With no idea what she was up to, he followed those long, scissoring legs. They swam until the bottom fell away and then he caught up with her and they half floated out there with the cool water underneath them and the sun burning into them on top.

“I love the beach,” she said. “Thank you for bringing me.”

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

Sandy grinned, the sudden gamine smile of old. “I didn’t cum,” she said. “Not yet, anyway.”

Mickey didn’t quite know what to say to that, either. The sudden shift in her attitude puzzled him, but he was pleased that she had come into the water. He let it ride, hoping to see how things played out. She kissed him again, and her hands moved over him under the water. She was slick and warm in his arms.

“You want to fuck me?” she asked, giving him the eye. “Right here in front of all these strangers?”

Mickey looked around. The closest person to them was an easy two to three hundred yards distant and looking the other way.

“It’s what you want, isn’t it?” Sandy asked, insistently.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, kicking his legs slowly to stay next to her.

And then, incredibly, she was crying again. He hugged her and she wrapped her arms around his neck with a desperate strength.

“I don’t know what you want,” she sobbed. “I thought I did, but now...”

Mickey held her, paddling them back to water shallow enough to get his feet down. When he did, Sandy held on anyway, sobbing.

“I just want us to be good together,” Mickey said softly. “I want us to want each other like we used to. And to love each other like...”

“I
do
love you,” Sandy said, almost wailing. “I couldn’t live without you, Mick. Sometimes I can’t even breathe, it scares me so much...the idea you’d be gone.”

Mickey wondered how the wiring in her head worked. She’d fucked Linus Davidson on Tuesday and here she was only a few days later swearing undying love for the man she’d cuckolded. Where was the logic in that? He kissed the wet side of her head and hugged her.

“I’m not going to be gone,” he said. “I’m not, Sandy. Whatever it is, we’ll work it out. We always have.”

“I don’t deserve you,” she said timidly.

Mickey laughed.

“You’re giving me a woody.”

Sandy reached down to see and giggled through the tears. “This thing must have a remote control somewhere,” she said breathlessly. “God, how could you get a hard on after the way I’ve...”

“Shush,” he said, and kissed her.

Sandy unzipped his pants and reached in for his cock. He’d had that achy sort of semi-erection thing going with her naked in his arms in broad daylight, but her nimble fingers brought the blood, and in seconds he was erect and filled her hand. He helped her off with the wet cut offs and she did a little hop in the water, wrapping her legs around his hips again. She had a good grip on him, and made that little yipping sound of pleasure and welcome as he flexed his hips and slid all the way up inside her.

“Oh, yessss....!” she said with a wide, untroubled smile.

There was no rush. The ocean was warm and the sun burned them. Sandy lay back to float in the water with just her face showing and Mickey held her high enough so the little waves wouldn’t wash over her face. He pulled her bra straps off her shoulders and got the bra down around her waist to stroke her nipples. They were salty when he kissed them. She held his head against her chest and he fucked her slowly and with great deliberation and pleasure.

At the end, she got her arms around his neck again so he could hold her hips and move her up and down, he came deeply and happily and kissed her like she was brand new.

Chapter Ten

The policeman on the beach was not quite as amused. “Made quite a spectacle out of yourself out there,” he said with a knowing look when Mickey came out of the water. “Folks down the way called us. Said you were exhibiting lewd and lascivious behavior in a public place.”

“Mostly underwater,” Mickey said with a grin.

Sandy had her bra pulled up again and was wriggling around in the surf, getting her pants back on. She had to raise her hips to do it, giving Mickey and the cop a nice look at her bush, glinting with beads of water, something she had almost certainly not meant to do. She finally came up the beach, and her wet bra showed her nipples clearly. The policeman looked elsewhere while she pulled her shirt on.

“Nothing lewd or lascivious around here I can see,” he said blandly. “You folks see anything offensive?”

“Well, we’re nearly out of beer. That’s pretty offensive.” Sandy was squatting by the cooler. “You want one, officer?”

“God, how I would love that,” he said sadly. “But no, ma’am, thank you very much. I have to go look out for criminals and bad behavior. Ya’ll have a nice day, hear?”

“Been pretty good so far,” Mickey said, grinning a little. “Might have embarrassed the fish, though.”

“I’ll ask them if I see them,” the cop said, and turned to walk back up into the dunes without looking back.

Sandy burst out laughing, passing Mickey the beers to open because the twist off caps always hurt her hands. “Do you believe I just did that?” she asked, delighted.

“A goddess out of the sea,” he said. “Damned lucky I was here to see it. Especially that little show you put on getting your pants on.”

Her eyes widened and she giggled again, blushing deeply. They sat together again, shoulders touching this time, and drank their beer, looking at the sea through their sunglasses, and enjoying each other’s company. Mickey lit another cigarette and passed it to Sandy, and then lit a cigar.

“I’m trying my best, Sandy,” he said.

“I know,” she said softly.

“It’s not fun, you being mad at me.”

“Not either way, Mick, but it happens.” She shrugged and tipped her beer up, the muscles in her throat working as she swallowed.