Perry Scope - When the loving gets rough

"Stay with me," Lennie pleaded. "Move in with me. Please. I'll do anything for you!"

Karen was profoundly touched. Her refusal was gentle but firm. She had to get out of here. Now Lennie's initiated body was like an indictment to Karen.

Karen let herself into Pat's apartment quietly. It was very late. She had been able to leave Lennie alter assuring the girl that they would see each other very soon. She had even invited Lennie to their apartment against her better judgment.

"Is that you, baby?" Pat called from the bed when Karen had closed the door behind her.

"Yes." This room, which had been her home for more than a fistful of weeks, now looked unfamiliar. She imagined she could smell an alien scent in the room, an overtone of whiskey and cigar smoke. She wanted to run, but she couldn't even do that. She wouldn't allow herself to do that!

Instead, Karen went to the bed. She undressed quickly and then she was sinking into Pat's well-used, fragrant body, escaping all pain and thought in an embrace of sensual reunion. Only this time, Karen did not want Pat to touch her – she wanted to reclaim Pat as her own. She had to take this body which had betrayed her with a man – for money – and make it pure with her lips. Just as Lennie had an hour before taken her from the angry demanding world. Through her own flesh, Karen sought to purify Pat's. She covered all traces where this strange hateful man had taken Pat… Her tongue, not gentle now, demanded recognition from Pat, making Pat, finally, cry out in exhaustion and even pain. But Karen was insatiable. She bruised Pat's soft thighs, bit harshly at the tender flesh between them until Pat, aroused again by this unexpected rough handling of her body, gave in, slightingly bringing them both – just as daylight filtered through the dirty windows – to a final orgasm, one consisting more of hate than of love.

"I'm not a whore, you know," the rather plain woman said softly.

Allen looked at her, surprise and embarrassment making him look even younger than he was. He instantly regretted coming to the crummy little neighborhood bar, but the house had been so empty, so lonely… He couldn't stand another night of it. Wanting Karen had become such an immobilizing pain that work was impossible. It was this pain which had prompted him to force himself to approach the woman who looked almost as lonely as he. He had thought his roundabout approach was casual and sophisticated, but the woman's cool words had pierced even this self-protection. He felt like a fool now, a very young, helpless fool.

"Look. I'm sorry," he started ineptly. "I didn't mean…"

The woman smiled warmly. The smile made her look younger, softer. He had judged her to be around thirty or so, but now she looked closer to his own age. It hadn't mattered before how old she was, or what she looked like. He needed a woman desperately, but somehow with her smile and sudden warmth, Allen was embarrassed about his directness.

"I know what you meant. Don't be embarrassed. I understand better than you think. Are you married?" The woman grinned at Allen. "My name is Cira. It's Spanish."

"You don't look Spanish." Allen felt a great sense of relief that the woman hadn't simply slugged him and vanished angrily. "My name's Allen."

"I'm not, but my mother was the fanciful type. So… I'm Cira! Hi, Allen."

"Hi." He grinned back at her. Then he remembered her question. "Yes… I'm married, sort of," he added slowly. "She left me." He wondered what this woman would think if he told her that his wife had left him for another woman. He was sure she wouldn't understand. Well, that would make two of them. He remembered Karen's note. It was garbled, yet the truth of her involvement with Pat came through loud and clear. Karen was too honest, and, he guess, too confused at the time, to try to hide anything.

"Someone else?" Cira inquired softly. She watched him nod. Poor kid, she thought. Poor miserable, lonely kid. There are so many of us! "Any children?"

"No. I guess that's good, now." Allen tried to be casual. He didn't feel he had the right to burden this woman with his heartache. She looked like she knew what it was only too well herself.

"Maybe." Cira thought of her own son, home asleep in her sister's house. At least she had him! She didn't know what she would have done this past year if it wasn't for the baby. She had done this to herself. She was too old to get herself caught like a teenager! But she had loved the bastard too much! She was sure if there was a baby he would marry her, and she'd wanted a child badly. Funny how most men don't mention a wife until it's too late. Not like this boy. She felt he was telling the truth about himself. His loneliness and pain stuck out all over him like an extra set of ribs. She felt pity mingled with her own loneliness. It had been such a long time. She could make him happy for a night. One night, only. Then she would take her son, as she planned, draw her few savings out of the bank, and move to another town. She would give herself and this lonely boy one night of forgetfulness. Cira couldn't help wondering how many other people used sex as a panacea. She hoped she would never want to again.

"Do you have somewhere we can go?" The woman smiled up at Allen.

Allen opened his eyes wide in surprise. "I thought…"

"I know. I said I wasn't a whore. That's true. I think I need you tonight, and you need me. Let's just enjoy each other and not ask a lot of questions. A deal?"

They smoked a cigarette together in bed afterwards. It had been a release for Allen, yet he was unhappy, knowing he hadn't really brought much pleasure to Cira. She hadn't said anything, yet he knew it was true. "I'm sorry, Cira. It wasn't too good for you, was it?"

Cira felt a tenderness grow in her for this boy. His very ineptness contributed to this feeling. He was very inexperienced – she wondered how much this had contributed to his wife's reasons for leaving him.

"You're very young," she whispered to him, her lips close to his ear. "Love has to be learned, just like everything else. Let me show you…"

Al watched Cira get up from the bed. Naked, the woman walked to the phone. He heard her conversation with her sister, yet he didn't hear it. He was so confused. How could he learn love? He had loved his wife, yet she had rejected him for the love of a woman.

"I've arranged things so that I can stay with you for the weekend, if you'd like…" Cira said, cutting into his painful thoughts.

"The weekend?" Al didn't understand.

Cira sat down on the bed again, drawing Al's head to her full breasts. "Yes, silly boy. Certainly you didn't think I could teach you about love in a few hours, did you? That is, I'll stay if you'd like me to…"

Al felt a great relief at her words. He was so tired of being alone. "I'd like that very much. But…" he tried to smile, "I'm afraid I'm kind of a drop out when it comes to lovemaking. Or, kind of a failure…"

Cira pressed a soft nipple against his lips. "Nonsense! You're a sweet, warm person. Only, for some reason, you are determined to fight that natural sweetness in bed." She felt the nipple grow hard in his mouth. She guided his mouth to the other one, speaking again when his tongue began its hungry caress. "Poor baby, it's so hard to be a man and still be tender, isn't it?"

"Tender?" he murmured, still not really listening, not really comprehending. All he felt now, with the hot globes of softness against his lips, was the familiar desperate need to sink himself inside her body, extinguish the burning in his loins. He was ready again, suddenly excited by Cira's willingness to give herself to him. How many times had he wanted Karen, and been rejected, or forced to all but rape his own wife? He couldn't wait, couldn't… Al grasped her legs, spreading them apart urgently. He lowered himself onto her compliant body, fitting his thighs between hers.