Authors: C. K. Kelly Martin
I’m still
stroking his cock and he glances down at it in my hand, a fierce concentration
look in his eyes. He walks me backwards to the red base of the lighthouse, both
his hands diving up under my dress, pulling at my tights and panties, sliding
them swiftly down my thighs.
“Okay,” he
grunts, his cheekbones taut with expectation.
Liam hitches up
my dress as he hoists me up against the base of the tower. Pinned in front of
him, I shiver at the feel of October air on my bare thighs. Liam’s hands
squeeze my ass and stroke my thighs, my spine chafing against the lighthouse
tower. I don’t know if I’ve ever wanted anything this much. I’m almost there,
even though he’s not inside me yet. My body’s racing on ahead. I say his name
like a plea. I can’t wait anymore.
Liam plunges
into me, fast and deep. The pain surprises me. It hurts more than losing my
virginity, like a seam torn open. My back knocks against the unyielding base of
the lighthouse and that hurts too. My brain can’t reconcile the pain with the
desire still surging through me. I don’t want him to stop; I just don’t want it
to hurt.
Liam kisses my
neck and then my mouth as he thrusts inside me, over and over. Our mouths are
rough and hungry. I grab a fistful of his hair and clasp it tight between the fingers
of my right hand. Our tongues grapple, pushing back and forth, mimicking the
tug between our lower bodies. I begin to wince with the pain of it, and I open
my mouth to ask him to slow down, but now he’s coming, driving himself inside
me with a relentlessness that ends with a gasp. He exhales his hot breath into
the crook of my neck.
Somewhere in the
darkness I hear voices, distant but creeping nearer. Liam stiffens and raises
his head. He pulls out and sets me down. We stare at each other with wide, anxious
eyes. I yank up my panties and tights as Liam tucks himself in and zips his
jeans.
He steps away
from the lighthouse and peers around it, down the length of the pier, searching
for the source of the noise. I snatch up my purse, follow him and spot a group
of teenagers clambering in our direction. The lighthouse and the darkness
likely shielded us from view, but I suddenly feel self-conscious. They probably
didn’t see us, but they
could
have. What am I doing?
“Let’s go,” Liam
says, throwing his arm around my shoulders. We hurry along the pier, edging
past the teenagers—three girls who have begun to shout out the words to a pop
song from last year that I’d forgotten, and two guys straggling behind them,
clutching skateboards.
I’m quiet,
replaying the last few minutes in my head, stunned. I don’t even know Liam’s
last name. All those months of shutting myself away, grieving for Bastien, just
to end it with a one-night stand. My head throbs with guilt and what’s left of
the hunger I felt for Liam.
“Do you want to
come back to the apartment?” Liam asks, his fingers at the base of my neck,
twisting gently into my hair. I wonder if he’s only asking to be polite, if
this is what you’re supposed to say to a girl you humped against a lighthouse
even though you’d really rather be left alone. If I knew him better I’d
probably be able to tell.
But I don’t and
I can’t and I’m afraid to be alone with the confusion. I wasn’t ready for this
and now I’m not ready for that.
The sound of the
teenage girls’ raucous singing fades as we near the shore-end of the pier.
Ahead and to the right of us, the Oakville Museum looms large and lonely. The
sight of it plucks at the sadness inside of me that never disappears.
It should be
Bastien’s arm around me now, but I turn to look at Liam, his unanswered
question hovering in the night air between us. “Yeah,” I say slowly, the word
itchy like wool in my throat. “Okay.”
“We’re not far,” Liam tells me.
“It backs right onto the square.” As we pass the empty playground two raccoons
scamper by and he points to them and says, “Look at that. I’ve never seen one
in the flesh before.”
“No raccoons in
Ireland?” I ask.
“Some people
might have them as exotic pets,” he says, “but they’re not a native species.
There aren’t any wild skunks either.”
“I didn’t know
that.” We watch the raccoons as we stride on. I tell Liam about how when
Bastien and I first moved into our apartment in Toronto the raccoons used to
wreak havoc on our trash all the time and we’d wake up to find it strewn across
the front lawn and sidewalk. We had to buy a special hook to raccoon-proof our
garbage and recycle bins. “And one of the neighbor’s dogs got gashed across the
snout by a raccoon and needed five stitches.”
The raccoon
conversation feels extraneous and awkward, worse than not saying anything, and
I fall quiet again—we both do until we reach Liam’s building. He swipes us into
the lobby, with its glossy marble floor, an armoire which looks like it belongs
in a museum, and four plush armchairs all spaced equidistant from each other.
“This is nice,” I say, breaking the silence.
“It is,” he
agrees. “And it’s dead handy—so close to all the restaurants and shops. I was
lucky. It just fell into my lap.”
Like me.
We cross the
lobby and climb into the elevator. Liam punches the three button and several
seconds later we’re on his floor, padding along the hallway to his apartment.
“It’s right here,” he says, stopping to slip his key into the lock. I follow
him inside the door. The suite looks like a show apartment, muted and impeccable
but, piano aside, missing the personal touches you normally find in someone’s
living space—photographs, paintings and eccentric clutter. Liam heads straight
for the kitchen and drops his keys onto a tiny white dish. “Can I get you
something to drink?” he asks, turning to look at me. “Coffee or…” He steps
towards the fridge and swings it open to peer inside. “There’s some white
wine.”
“Water’s fine,”
I say. “Where’s your bathroom?”
Liam points me
in the right direction. “Just across from the bedroom there. The button on your
left is the light.”
I disappear
inside the bathroom, feeling breathless and shy. The bathroom’s as neutral as
the living room—decorated in various shades of gray. There’s a single black and
white photograph of a frothy seascape on the wall. My eyes flick from that to
Liam’s toiletry supplies laid out beside the sink—mouthwash, toothpaste,
shaving cream, deodorant, dental floss and a single toothbrush sticking out of
the pale gray toothbrush holder which matches everything else. I feel like an
intruder who shouldn’t be seeing his private things and I resist the urge to
open his medicine cabinet. Besides, I don’t have time to snoop. I need to clean
myself up. My panties are wet in the middle from Liam’s leaked cum and when I
wipe myself with toilet paper I see blood. The sting’s still there too. I
thought I was ready out on the pier but obviously I wasn’t wet enough; my body
needed more time. I strip off my wet panties and bury them in the wastebasket,
throwing toilet paper over to hide them.
As I’m doing
that I realize, with a jolt, that I’ve been even stupider than I initially
realized. In the beginning Bastien and I used condoms, but after a couple of
months I got a prescription for the pill. I haven’t swallowed one since the day
he died. Didn’t think there was any point.
I certainly
didn’t think I’d be ending my celibacy anytime soon, and I bunch up my fists,
lean against the wall and groan at my stupidity.
Unprotected sex—what do
they teach you about that in junior high health class, Leah?
First thing
tomorrow I need to get myself to a pharmacy and pick up emergency contraception
pills, which will cost
additional
money I really don’t have. Why didn’t
I let Liam pay for dinner? Why didn’t I ask him to use a condom? What if he has
some kind of STD from one of the other women he’s slept with lately—his
sister’s friend or his TV co-star?
At the very
least he must have assumed I’m on some kind of hormonal birth control, and
although I know I should troop out to the kitchen, confess what’s happened and
give him some kind of quiz on his sexual history, I can’t. What happened down
at the lighthouse was my idea. He tried to talk me out of it and I don’t want
to disappoint him so soon by underlining the extent of the mistake.
I wash between
my legs with soap and warm water, pull my tights back on over my bare skin and
then stare at myself in the mirror, combing my fingers through my hair and
doing my best to appear presentable and calm. My eyes won’t cooperate but the
rest of me looks okay. I squirt toothpaste onto my finger and massage it into
my teeth and gums, stalling. How long have I been in here? I need to face
what’s left of the night without making it worse. I chase the toothpaste with
citrus flavored mouthwash and join Liam in the kitchen.
He’s standing
against the counter, sipping from a tea cup which he puts down on the counter
when he sees me. “Are you okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, I’m fine.
How about you?” I glance nervously into his eyes. “I know that wasn’t what
you–”
I’m about to say
‘what he had in mind’ but he cuts me off: “Let’s not analyze it, okay, Leah?
The last thing I need is for this to be complicated.”
I nod like this
is a sensible sentiment. “Me too.” He reaches behind him for the glass of ice
water he’s poured me and I take it from him. “Thanks.”
Liam bobs his
head. I haven’t seen him smile since we reached the lake, but I see a hint of
it on his face as he says, “Just for tonight, right?”
I lean back
against the counter too, nodding again as I swallow ice water. Liam pushes off
the counter and steps closer. He reaches for my waist, his thumb stroking my
side as he presses his lips into my forehead and then my mouth. Just like that
I’m hungry again. Our tongues slide against each other, Liam skimming one of
his hands over my breasts.
He touches my
tunic, grabs it between his fingers and begins to tug it up over my head. I
help him, knowing that I shouldn’t allow things to go much further, that I’ll
have to break the feverish spell we’re in sooner rather than later. “I think,”
Liam whispers huskily in my ear, “that you didn’t really get what you needed
out there on the pier.” He pulls back to look at me, one of his hands cupping
my neck. “Am I right?”
My pelvis
grinding impulsively against his is answer enough. Liam’s hands land on my
legs, inching under my dress, where his fingers curve firmly around my thighs.
Up and down they run, fondling my ass. I arch my back and thrust myself against
him. One of Liam’s hands slide between my legs, the thin fabric of my tights
still keeping my skin from his. He draws circles through the fabric with his
fingers, making me exhale sharply and buck under his hand. Then his fingers are
hooking into my tights, slipping them down to my knees so there’s nothing to
keep him from me.
One of his
fingers slides inside me and I wince, still stinging from what happened out on
the pier, but the pain doesn’t last. Liam’s thumb rubs the part of me where I
need him the most while his finger moves insistently inside me. My feet begin
to shake. My fingers twitch. Liam kisses my neck and my mouth, and even my lips
are trembling. He must be able to feel it. My heart’s slamming against my
chest. I’m so close. Everything aside from this sensation feels like a lie.
Liam smoothes
his other thumb across my mouth. Teases my lips until I open and grab for his
thumb with my teeth. I swirl my tongue around it, take it into my mouth and
suck it like I was too shy to do with his cock.
And then I’m
shuddering all over. Spasming around his finger. Clutching it tight and
releasing as I move my mouth around his thumb.
I can’t believe
how good everything feels, never want the feeling to stop. Liam’s eyes meet
mine. In that moment I’m not shy. There are no secrets between us.
I laugh, lightly
and out of breath, releasing my hold on his thumb. Liam smiles like he’s happy
to have given me the moment. Then he’s sliding his finger out, moving to wrap
his hand around my waist just the way we started out. Only his hand never quite
reaches me because we both notice it at the same time—the blood on his finger.
The surprise in
Liam’s face makes me say, “It’s not what you think.” The confusion hasn’t
disappeared from his eyes and I add, “I’m not a virgin.”
Liam wipes his
finger on the tea towel hanging over the stove, his eyes holding on mine. “I
hurt you?” he asks as he leans back against the counter next to me.
I pull up my
tights and shake my head, embarrassed on multiple levels, none of which I want
to discuss with him. “Not really.” I glance at the incriminating tea towel,
lace my fingers together and fold my hands in front of me. “Maybe things just
happened a little too quickly out by the lighthouse.”
Liam’s quiet,
thinking that over, and maybe somehow all of this—a one-night stand of
awkward/amazing/unsafe sex—wouldn’t be so overwhelming in a world where I’d
never been in love with someone else, but I’ve become the same person I was at
the very beginning of the night again. I don’t know how I can be that girl
and
the one who slept with Liam without even waiting to be asked back to his
apartment, but I am. And I can’t deal with it. I’m finding it difficult to even
look at Liam, let alone explain what’s happened tonight.
I reach down to
pick my tunic up from the floor. “I think I should go,” I say as I tug the
sweater quickly over my head. “It’s been kind of a long evening—probably longer
than you intended.”
“Leah.” Liam
grazes my shoulder. “It’s okay. Relax.”
I nod in
agreement, but it’s not really okay. I still feel warm and a little shaky and
that makes it impossible to entirely regret tonight, which only heightens my
confusion. “I just…I really need to get home.” I turn and start walking towards
the door.