Authors: Vivienne Harris-Scott
This
was turning out to be the best sex of my life, and as she kept chanting my
name, I realized, I needn
’
t
ever be concerned by our coupling, the sight of her pinching her own nipples as
I continuously drank from her and held her thighs, provoked a tear of come
spill in my pants.
I
started to feel my cock spasm. The intensity of her pleasure was giving me my
own orgasm.
Finally,
after yet another of hers, covered in sweat and her essence, I saw white spots
and felt I would pass out if I didn
’
t relieve the pressure that had rebuilt in
my balls. I let her limp legs fall from my shoulders onto the sectional and unsteadily
stood up. She looked at me with questioning but sleepy eyes, so I gave her a
light kiss, telling her I would be back, and stumbled away to the first
bathroom available to give myself some relief.
When
I returned, with a tall glass of water in hands, her eyes were closed. Her
curls were scattered all over the pillow, her body resting on her left side
facing me, one hand cupping her face, the other, draped on her round belly.
Her
body covered in sheen of sweat, which made it almost glow in the dim light of
our living groom, mesmerized me.
Miles
’
trumpet was still playing in the
background.
My
breath caught in my throat. She was truly beautiful.
She
was carrying my child, and I had nearly lost her.
I
don
’
t
know if it was her pregnancy or the fact that I had just pleasured her and her
sweet and tangy taste was still on my lips, but watching her, I felt a wave of
love and possessiveness grip my heart with fierceness so intense, I was
suddenly unable to move. It was so strong, I could barely breathe.
Still
standing, I shut my eyes, to let the reaction subside.
Finally,
I came closer, put the glass down on the table between the next sectional,
grabbed one of the numerous shawls that were there to cover her, and whispered
against her cheek
“
I
love you
…
I
love you so much
…”
She
stirred. I kissed her forehead, pushing a damp curl away from her face.
I
settled myself on the opposing sofa, thinking I
’
d take her upstairs to our bed later.
I
watched her sleep, wishing I could freeze this moment in time.
((~~!~~))
She is my wife. She is mine.
My
Yang.
Still.
Forever.
Whatever
it takes.
These ties that binds. Part III
Julian
I was talking to James, almost on a daily
basis. I had to resist the temptation to call him every hour. Two full weeks
and still no trace of her. James had told me he put a tracker on her cell
phone, but the damn thing hadn
’
t
been turned on once since the day she had left the hotel in Dubai and the passports
he knew about revealed no clue either. She had vanished. As if she knew, I
would be looking for her, once again.
She
hadn
’
t
re-entered the US, under any name he knew about, and James was telling me
unless she did, it would be much harder to find her, if not impossible with 194
countries she could have gone and disappeared in. James had checked her
previous cell phone
’
s
records, and unsurprisingly, no outgoing calls were ever made from that cell.
She only used it to receive calls; now I understood why it always showed
‘
private number
’
when she rang me.
She
knew how to disappear, and unless she decided to come out, luck wasn
’
t on our side. This game of cat and mouse
was getting on my nerves. I was very close to call Ethan himself, and find out
what the deal was with them, but I couldn
’
t bring myself to do it. Yet.
I
knew the minute I would ask about his wife, he would know something was up.
After all, I didn
’
t
attend their wedding, and never was a part of his daily life for most of the
past twenty years, so what plausible excuse could I use to enquire about the
woman out of the blue?
Admittedly,
I was also worried. Ethan and I hadn
’
t spoken for over six years, and the last
time he was bidding me farewell in the hardest set of circumstances. I hadn
’
t set foot in Australia since, and now I
had learned we shared the same grief, what could I possibly say to him? Then,
of course, another hurdle was in my way. In light of the scandal that erupted
and put an abrupt stop to his promising political career, and his resulting
semi seclusion, I wasn
’
t
sure how to approach him. Amongst the two of us, he was the prodigal son who
was destined to politics; I knew how much he cared about it. How could I face
him when all his dreams had been destroyed, and mine were thriving
? Not to
mention tell him his own wife, whom I happen to be in love with, had a role in
his demise?
I
’
d seek
revenge for a lot less.
I
still cared enough about him to be concerned. A lot.
Lastly,
but most importantly, there was our strange relationship; the fact that he had
been there for me every single time I had needed him, and this from grammar
school until the last time. He truly was like a brother, always having my back
when the opposite was sometimes far from the truth. I owed him. If he asked me
anything in return, I would comply. Well, if he asked anything but Vi. I wasn
’
t sure I could let her go if he told me
she was still his. As long as I didn
’
t know for sure, things were still all
right between us.
I
actually dreaded knowing the entire truth.
At
first, after speaking to James, I had felt furious with E., gripped by
possessiveness towards her that scared me. The images of what I was willing to
do to him upon hearing James describe what he had done to her were ferocious.
However, upon cooling off, and examining the revelations in the light of the
next day and measuring what I heard, against what I had seen of Ethan and Vi, I
no longer felt the murdering rage that had overwhelmed me the previous night. I
couldn
’
t.
Something
was not right and leaving me uneasy. My nagging feeling had returned full
steam, and my gut was telling me things were much more complex between them,
than James or I, actually knew.
Unresolved
business, unresolved marriage, unresolved feelings.
I
didn
’
t
want to speak to Ethan until I knew with exactitude where things stood between
them. I knew what James had told me, but I truly needed to speak to her first,
because I remembered how much Ethan loved her, I doubted such intense love had
turned into hatred, and I had questions about things she hadn
’
t told James, versus that Ethan had told
me.
The
more I thought about it, the worst it got. My instinct was on full fledge red
alert, and telling me, a capital piece of information was missing. The feeling
intensified as days went by; soon, a permanent setting in the pit of my
stomach.
We
were now two weeks later, and I could not quite believe James assertions about
what Ethan had done and had threatened to do to her. Not that I doubted the
veracity of James
’
s
words; after all, he was just repeating what she had told him, but, I was
certain she hadn
’
t
told him all. In fact, I had a very strong suspicion as to what the missing
piece that could explain it all, was. I just refused to entertain it; the
consequences were just too painful if I was right.
If
it was true, if, as I suspected, Ethan had no desire to hurt her, then I wasn
’
t sure where that left us. All of us.
She
had been running for her life, hiding from Ethan supposedly on account of fear,
but what if she had no reasons to? What if he just wanted her back?
Ultimately,
it would be her choice of course, but he was her husband. They had gone through
a lot together, who was I to her?
More
than ever, I wanted answers.
I
was itching to put my questions to rest once and for all, and Ethan being the
one who could answer them all, the temptation to pick up my phone and just ask
him was becoming irresistible. Yet, I feared it would be an out all war between
us once the truth of our situation was exposed, and that was the last thing I
wanted or needed. I felt truly conflicted. Ethan and I were bound, in more ways
than anyone else could or would imagine. The bond had survived decades and
distance, I wasn
’
t
sure how either of us would react if we were to fight over the same woman. This
had never happened when we were younger; we both were hot commodity even then,
and had a code to prevent this very situation to ever occur between us.
Nonetheless,
I also knew I needed her. I was completely consumed. It was turning into an
obsession
There
was no doubt in my mind: I had to have her. No matter what the consequences
would be.
It
scared me.
Truly.
I
had been in that place once, and experience taught me, it could be
devastatingly painful.
It
could destroy you.
I
had sworn, never again.
Yet,
she got me there. Again.
I
wasn
’
t
sure I would survive this time.
((~~!~~))
“
I
detest not knowing, but hell, what do you want me to do?
”
I asked Mel, when she had rung to enquire
of my progress.
“
It
’
s all about Ethan,
”
she had replied,
“
It
’
s all about Ethan.
”
She
was right.
Ethan
started to occupy my every thought.
Ethan
and Julian
July 2004. Sydney. Australia.
The rain was drizzling, the sky getting
darker as minutes went by, a classic thunderstorm. The scene was surreal and
ominous of things to come.
They
held each other tightly. In front of all their society peers: both men crying
silently, sharing the same emotion.
There
are only a few instances in life where two unrelated men can hold each other as
if their life depended on it without arousing suspicion or wonder, and this was
one of them.
Their
mother was dead, lying in casket covered with flowers a few feet away from
them.
The
woman who gave birth to Julian, the woman he detested most of his life, was
dead. Her coffin was being lowered into the ground, her final resting place.
Yet, instead of relief, he felt indescribable grief.
The
woman who had treated Ethan as her own, actually, even better than her own son;
the woman who always told him he had the greatest future ahead of him, his
surrogate mother whose support had been immeasurable and unwavering over the
years because in her own words, he was the son she always wished Julian had
been: that woman was forever gone.
They
held each on to other; they were all that was left.
((~~!~~))
When Helen died in her bed at the McCarty
Estate after a respiratory failure due to her lung cancer taking a sudden turn
for the worse and her breathless body had been discovered by her night nurse,
Julian first call after the police had been for Melissa in London. His
second for Marcus who had rung Todd and in a 3-way call, both men assured him
they would be on the corporate jet out of Los Angeles incessantly. His third
call was for Ethan. He simply didn
’
t
know whom else to call, but once more, he found himself needing his old time
friend.
“
H-hello?
“
said the sleepy voice. It was 4.05 a.m.
Most people were still asleep, but Julian had been awake since the previous
morning, not getting a chance to catch any rest as he had been in bed reading a
report Marcus had sent him, before the nurse walked into his bedroom at.12.44
a.m. to inform him of the grim piece of news. He had since been busy making
necessary calls in autopilot, and a daze had followed when the ambulance had
left with his mother
’
s
body in it.
Eventually,
he had spent some time in his daughter bedroom watching her sleep making sure
she hadn
’
t
been disturbed by the commotion noises, and when he was ultimately reassured,
he had gone to the library where he started to drink amidst silent tears
falling on his cheeks, wondering what lay ahead.
He
couldn
’
t
speak, could barely think anymore; he felt so tired.
“
I can hear you breathe. Who is this?
”
was said in a clearer tone, bringing him
back to the present reality.
“
E. It
’
s me
“
he exhaled in a broken whisper.
“
Julian? What
’
s happened?
”
was said with concern. Ethan had
recognized the voice and knew something terrible had happened for Julian to
ring him before daylight.
“
I
…
She
…
Helen
…”
was said between ragged breaths.
Ethan
was now sitting upright in his bed, looking at his wife asleep next to him, as
he had flicked on the bedside lamp. Seeing Vic turn her body away from the
light, he got up, shut the light off, still holding the phone to his ear as he
left the bedroom, waiting for Julian to speak again. When nothing came, he said
softly,
”
Where
are you?
”
“
Home.
”
was said in one low breath.
“
I
’
ll be there in 15 minutes.
”
Ethan,
who only had
pjs
pants on, grabbed a sweater to cover
his nude torso and still in sleepers hurried to his private car, telling his
chauffeur he would not need him.
True
to his word, he buzzed the McCarty estate gate 12 minutes later. He hadn
’
t heard the spoken words yet, but he
already knew: Helen McCarty had passed away.
Julian
had become an orphan. And somehow, so had he.
((~~!~~))
The days leading to the service and the
final burial were blurry at best for Julian. He could barely recall how he went
through them.
Ethan
’
s mother, Mary McGregor had been a
lifesaver, organizing every detail from the funeral home, the church, flowers,
the wake and the final burial of her best friend, Helen McCarty.
Being
the funeral of the former premier
’
s
wife, it had been and arduous task, as many attendees came from overseas, but
she managed the tour de force; this being the least she could do for the final
goodbye to her longest friend.
Melissa
had arrived from London with her husband and children two days after the death
and four before the final memorial service. Charlie was in charge of the
children: his own but also Madeline, who was still recuperating from the
surgery, as Julian didn
’
t
seem to remember he had a daughter who needed his attention. With Belinda
prohibited access to the house, an adult needed to show her some affection
amidst the coldness that seemed to have enveloped the estate since its owner
death.
Melissa
had taken the burden of organizing Helen
’
s affairs with the assistance of Todd and
Marcus, so they
’
d
be prepared to face the family attorney after the reading of the will. Julian
was left to deal to his own devices. She noticed her brother seemed to be in
some sort of dissociative state, and he simply spent the days leading to the
funeral in his room, with the blinds shut, drinking, refusing to see anyone. No
one seemed to get through to him including Marcus and Todd, the two closest men
to him. No one but Ethan who visited every day if only for a short half hour and
would sit in his old friend room watching him and talking to him, waiting for
him to talk back.
Julian
was not interested in meeting anyone coming to the house to pay their respects,
and even less to arrange any sort of eulogy for his mother. When Melissa asked
him to do it, after marching into his room the day before the church service,
he looked at her as if she was deranged, eliciting her first smile since her
arrival. She told him the scared looked his face spotted was worth it if it
were going to make him come out of the liquefied state of affairs that
afflicted him. The siblings looked at each other for a long time until Julian
had finally smiled.
Melissa
knew Julian would not,- actually, could not -, do the eulogy. She had already
written it. She also knew her brother hadn
’
t shed a tear since she had arrived and
they talked about their mother
’
s
death. Knowing him, she was worried he would shut down completely after the
shock wore off. She knew the two of them had never really made peace and that
was something he would have to live with.
Her
death was a sudden shock. They hadn
’
t anticipated it for another few years.
The brutal wrenching out from their lives of Helen, left a wound in Julian that
would take long to heal, and Melissa was worried, it might never heal
completely.
In
the meantime, she was just grateful for Ethan
’
s presence, as he seems to be the one
pulling him back towards the livings.
((~~!~~))
“
Are
you ok?
”
She asked looking at him intensely, scrutinizing his face.
Ethan
looked up from the paperwork he was reading, and tried to put a brave smile on
his face to reassure his wife.
He
had been affected by Helen McCarty
’
s
death. The woman had been a 2
nd
mother to him, and while his own was
still alive and well, he felt for Julian and truly shared his loss and grief.
“
I
’
m ok, baby,
”
He smiled, standing from his chair and
going over next to her to the daybed where she was comfortably resting against
pillows, a sham covering her, a book in her hands.
“
Don
’
t worry about me. I am fine
…
I
’
m worried about Julian, and I
’
m worried about you
…”
Her
head tilted.
“
I
’
m sorry I can
’
t go to the funeral with you
…”
she started in a sad tone.
“
You
’
re on bed rest. I don
’
t want you to come to the funeral. It
’
s not a necessary requirement for you. You
don
’
t
even know the
McCartys
. My presence will suffice.
”
He caressed her covered belly and
continued,
“
Our
son is more important than anything else, and I don
’
t want you to exert yourself or get upset,
and funerals tend to do that
…”
She
placed her hand on his, on her belly, and said softly
“
E?
”
they looked at each other and she broke
the silence saying,
“
I
’
m sorry for your loss.
”
He
remained silent for a moment, thinking about Helen, but then he embraced his
wife and said against her ear,
“
I
’
m ok. I have you, and soon our baby will
born. I
’
m
ok.
”
They
held each other tightly.
Ethan
was grateful to still have the woman he loved, their unborn baby, and his own
mother in his life.
It
was much more than what Julian was left with and that
’
s why he visited him every day, hoping his
presence would help in any way.