Surrender (6 page)

Impatiently, I reach for my panties and pull them down, baring myself to him. With a soft groan, he reaches for me again, pulling my hips closer to his face, and his tongue plunges between my legs.

My fingers are digging into his shoulders. I hear myself groaning, crying, and begging, as he teases me until I’m delirious with pleasure. His tongue moves expertly over the center of my arousal, licking and sucking me until my body is pulsing so madly I feel as if I’ll explode. Then he stops and rises slowly back up on his feet, his lips trailing kisses up my body, and his hands supporting me so I don’t collapse.

He unhooks my bra and pulls it off. I hear his sharp intake of breath as my breasts are bared to his eyes.

“You’re so perfect.” He says tenderly, his thumbs finding the erect tips and squeezing each nipple gently, with just enough force to make me want more. “Did you miss this Sophie?” he asks.

“Yes.” I whisper.

Then I’m moaning again as he bends his head to tongue each erect nipple, one, and then the other, until they’re both swollen and aching sweetly.

He moves away from my breasts, and his lips find mine, hot and demanding. I dig my fingers unto his hair and pull him closer, feeling his hands enclose my thighs as he lifts me easily, pressing me against his straining arousal. I moan and wrap my legs around his waist, rubbing myself against him, eager to feel him deep inside me.

Still carrying me, he moves until I can feel the wall at my back, then his fingers find me, slipping into my wet core, rubbing and stroking the most sensitive part of me. I strain against him, my back arching as his fingers move slowly in and out of me.

I can’t take it anymore. “David,” I moan, reaching for his zipper, but he’s there before me. I feel his trousers fall, and then his hands are around my waist, holding me still as he positions himself so I can feel the tip of his arousal pressing lusciously against me, then he grinds his hips forward, plunging inside me.

I gasp for breath, my body tightening as he goes so deep inside. He’s so hard, and so incredibly sweet I feel as if I’m losing my mind. My hips move, urging his hot length deeper inside me as my hands roam under his shirt, over the hard, sweat-slicked surface of his chest.

“David.” I moan urgently.

He is shaking, his jaw clenched, and his body tense. His eyes meet mine, and they’re dark and smoky with desire. He looks totally aroused, and incredibly beautiful.

“Please.” I hear myself say.

Slowly he starts to move, stroking sweetly in and out of me, until my legs feel weak and boneless, until I can’t feel anything, only him, only his slow, sweet, tortuous movements inside me.

I lose myself to the pleasure, pulsing and needy, moaning and panting as my body tightens around him. He groans, leaning his hands on the wall, as he starts to move faster, thrusting with sure, slick movements of his hips. I’m going to explode, I realize as my body bows and arches off the wall. I clutch his shoulders, my voice rising as my breath comes out in a long high moan. His lips cover mine, swallowing my scream as my body explodes around him, the same moment, I feel him stiffen and thrust hard one last time, his body shuddering fiercely as he groans out my name.

We stay there for a while, him still inside me, both of us breathing deeply as we lean on the wall. He’s still almost fully dressed, while I’m completely naked, my legs shaking and wrapped around his waist.

“Come home,” He whispers against my ear, his voice rough.

Oh, I want to. I’d like to follow him wherever he goes. I want to give him anything he wants, and why wouldn’t I, when he’s just made me feel so good. He’s still inside me, and where we’re joined, I can still feel a sweet pulsing ache.

“Come home Sophie.” He says again.

My eyes focus. My fingers are threaded in his hair, my breasts pressed against his chest. Right in front of me, I can see the door the waiters have been coming through. I know no one will come in while we’re like this. No one will come in unless we ring the bell.

But still, we’ve just had sex in public, in a restaurant.

I pull back from him, pulling my fingers from his hair, and pushing against him until he lets me go. I ignore the aftershocks of pleasure that run through me as he slips out of me, trying to stop my trembling as he sets me on my feet.

Why does this feel so familiar?

It’s hard, but not impossible to find the answer buried somewhere under the lingering cloud of arousal in my brain. This is David, and sex is his weapon.

He’s standing in front of me, towering over me. I stare at his shirt, noticing that I pulled off at least three buttons. “I have to go.” The words come out in a whisper.

“No, you don’t.”

I move away from him and start to dress, hurriedly pulling on my clothes. “I think I do.” I hiss angrily. “You’re obviously not…” I pause and take a deep breath. “You said you wanted to talk David,” I accuse him, “but of course it’s much easier for you to make me want you, and then make your demands when the last thing on my mind is saying no.”

His face hardens. I watch as he starts to adjust his clothes, his movements swift and mechanical, but still so mouthwateringly graceful.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” I ask, as the silence stretches, “Aren’t you going to at least try to explain why you brought me here telling me that you wanted to talk while all you wanted was to break me down the best way you know how?”

“What would you like me to say?” he mutters. “You think what just happened here was about me trying to coerce you into doing something you don’t want? Well I wanted you, Sophie. I wanted you so much I wouldn’t have cared if the whole restaurant could see us. How about considering that for a change? That all night I’ve wanted you, that I’d have eagerly taken you on the table, on the chair, anywhere in this room.” He glares at me. “You want me to apologize for that? Well I’m not sorry.”

Why am I suddenly trembling and needy, wanting him again? I take a deep, shuddering breath. “And it’s always about what you want, isn’t it?” I say, fighting to control my desires, “Well this is what I want David, I want you to leave me alone.”

He doesn’t say anything. He watches me silently as I pick up my bag and leave. Outside, the wind is strong and salty, mingling with the salt of the tears I’m trying, and failing to keep from falling as I hurry along the sidewalk.

Chapter Five

“AH! HERE’S YOUR CUTE FRIEND AGAIN.” Bea says with a wink as she hands me my coffee. I’ve been silent all morning, though she doesn’t let that bother her. Probably, as far as she’s concerned it’s just another dimension to my constant melancholy. I wonder what she would say if I told her about David, about last night.

I turn around, following the direction of her gaze. Sure enough, Eddie is walking into the café, coming towards us with a smile on his face. “Sophie.” He greets cheerfully.

“Hey Eddie.”

“Hey Eddie.” Bea chips in with a sly wink in my direction.

I roll my eyes at her, but she ignores me, taking Eddie’s order, while smiling cheerily at him. From the other end of the counter, I notice Luke looking from Bea to Eddie with a curious expression.

Eddie turns to me, and his eyes fall on the front of my t-shirt, another variation of the ‘Welcome to Empathy Zone’ theme. “You work there?” he asks, gesturing towards the words on my chest.

I nod.

“Oh.” He looks pleased, “It’s right on my way,” he says with a smile. “If you’re on your way there right now, we can walk together,”

“I’m not ready to leave yet.” I tell him, ignoring the obvious, fake choking sound Bea makes as she hands him his coffee.

Eddie looks hurt. “Okay.” He turns to leave, then pauses. “I just hoped we could have a drink sometime.” He says with a boyish, hopeful smile. “That’s if you don’t mind.”

I start to tell him that I’d rather not, but I catch myself. Is this what I’ll do for the rest of my life? Push people away because of David? After last night, I don’t know where we stand, but I know all my efforts to get over him have been set back years, if not decades.

“I don’t mind.” I tell Eddie, forcing a bright smile onto my face. I watch his face lights up in response. “I’d love to have a drink sometime.”

“Great!” he says, still smiling as I give him my number. He enters it on his phone, and then waves awkwardly at Bea and me before leaving.

I watch him walk outside, suddenly not sure how I feel about going anywhere with him when just last night David and I were making love against the wall of a restaurant.

I snap out of my thoughts at the sound of Bea’s voice. “What?”

“I said, he likes you.” She repeats.

I shake my head. “You don’t know that.”

“I’m not blind.” She says with a smirk. “If he likes you, you should give him a chance.”

“Like you’re giving Luke a chance?” I ask. Luke is serving the only customer on the queue, but that doesn’t prevent his eyes from wandering over to Bea again and again. As soon as she turns to look at him, he looks away.

“Luke’s my friend.” She says dismissively, “and we’ve known each other for ages.” She shrugs. “Plus I haven’t gotten over Jet.”

I frown, trying to imagine how it must have felt when she found out the man she’s been dating for over a year was moving away without even factoring her into his plans. It must have been devastating.

I look over at Luke, and his eyes are on Bea again. No, I’m not mistaken about this. He wants her.

I turn back to Bea. “Just because you’ve known each other for ages, he can’t be in love with you?”

She frowns. “He’s not.” She says firmly. “Hey, Luke.” She turns towards him, her voice challenging. “Sophie thinks you’re in love with me.”

He stares at her, his speechlessness a slightly more embarrassed version of my own. His throat bobs as he swallows. “Of course not,” He says thickly. “That would be ridiculous.”

Bea turns back to me, her triumphant smile a little dim. “You see?”

“I… yeah.” I turn an apologetic glance towards Luke. “I’m going now.” I tell Bea.

She has a small frown on her brow. “Yeah... see you later.” She says, without looking at me.

The day passes slowly. Larry isn’t coming to the store, Jan tells me, because his son is graduating and giving the valedictory address.

“He’s really going to ogle Stephanie,” He adds with a laugh. “That’s his ex-wife, and he’s still crazy about her.”

I frown, wondering what the right reply is to that particular bit of information.
I’m still in love with my estranged husband as well, only last night we had sex, in a restaurant, up against the wall.

And it was amazing.

“I should be there too,” Jan continues, oblivious to my thoughts. “But Jo - that’s my ex – will probably be there and things never go well when we find ourselves in the same room.”

“Are you still in love with her?” I ask boldly, thinking that perhaps we’re all stuck in love.

“Hell no!” He barks out a laugh. “We hate each other’s guts. You know, we went in expecting so much from each other, with neither of us prepared to give anything.” He shakes his head, “That never works.”

“What if you give everything you have,” I ask contemplatively, “and the other person just isn’t ready to give anything.”

Jan shrugs. “I’m no expert.” He says, “If I were, I’d still be married.” He studies my face. “So how’d your date go last night?”

We had mind-blowing sex, in a restaurant, up against the wall.

I close my eyes against the memory. “It was okay.” I tell Jan, forcing a small, lighthearted smile.

When I leave the store later in the day, I walk down to the small museum down the street. Inside, it’s quiet as usual, with hardly anyone around. I make my way over to my painting, as I’ve come to think of it, the painting I always end up looking at.

It’s still in the same position, and nothing has changed about it. The young woman is still half turned towards me, perpetually in motion, looking as if any moment she would turn completely around and I would see her face.

But I don’t need to see it. I already know, without a doubt, whose face it is. It’s the face I’ve been drawing all my life. It’s my mother’s face.

I try to imagine what she would have said when she turned fully towards the painter, her married professor. Would they have talked about his wife? How wrong their relationship was? Did they plan their future together, or did they decide to enjoy it for as long as they could and then let it go?

I’ve searched the name of the painter online. There’s a small article on the university’s website about his work there. I also found a few news articles about the murder-suicide, some of his wife’s poems and the haunting last poem she wrote before she drove herself and her husband off a bridge.

Don’t tell me love is not forever

Mine will only die when we close our eyes

One last time

I remember Aunt Josephine’s taunts. Her favorite words to describe my parent’s relationship had been “sordid affair” It’s agonizing to think that she was right. That my mother was instrumental in shattering someone’s heart to the point where her only recourse was to drive her car off a bridge.