Heather Lewis: Notice

I’d left my hands where he’d put them and his were there, too, opening me up, sliding his dick in. Soon as he’d done that, he took hold of my wrists, held them down at my sides. His dick helped me by the way it hurt. Kept me from thinking anything for a while until it got where it didn’t hurt, but did the opposite. When that happened I couldn’t stay with him anymore.

Like he knew this, he pushed my arms over my head. Caught hold of his belt again too, so that each time he hit into me, he choked me. This wasn’t the way he usually fucked me, though I expect it’s the way he usually fucked her. The other night he was showing her what he’d been doing to me, and now was showing me what she got.

I wasn’t used to having his face near mine and here he was staring right into my eyes with that same look as when I’d watched him do her. I couldn’t hold his gaze. Closed my eyes and opened my mouth; figured having his tongue there would be okay, that it was something I needed, that I needed something to suck on. But none of this mattered because he wasn’t thinking it, I was.

He said, “Don’t you look away from me. Don’t you ever.”

I opened my eyes and it meant I felt all of it. Felt his dick up in me and worse than before because now he held it nearly still. Moved just a little until I found my eyes closing again, my legs wrapping around him. Until I found myself pressing against him.

“Look at me,” he said, but this time not harsh. This time nearly teasing, putting me in a place in myself I thought would break me apart. And again like he knew, he let off me and got up. Left his belt around my neck but let go of it. Left me to turn on my side and pull my legs up underneath me, left me clutching myself.

He got his wife out of her bath. Brought her in still wet and lay her down on her stomach right next to me. Then he lifted her up on her knees and after that I stopped watching. And I pretended I didn’t feel anything either. I even got up, took his belt off and went and sat in his chair, finished his drink, lit a cigarette, and wondered how long he’d let me do these sorts of things.

Sitting there behind them I still wasn’t watching. Out the window you could see their pool lit up in the dark. That’s what I stared at. This didn’t keep me from hearing her, though. I’d found no way to stop that, but if I looked hard enough at the water it muffled her some.

It was me he jerked off on – my face and my neck, while I still sat in his chair. He’d caught me off guard, what with the way I’d put myself out on the lawn and so already I knew that solution had limits.

Soon as he came, he went into the bathroom, which meant I couldn’t go in there, couldn’t clean him off me without searching the house. And what with the state I was in, with what I’d been trying to maintain, that was just too far to go.

His wife had the bedspread pulled up around her and seeing her this way I realized we hadn’t been alone before. That we’d never been introduced. And then I asked her her name and she said, “Ingrid.” All of this happened before I’d had a chance to think whether her name would be a good thing to know. Already I knew it wasn’t. As soon as she said it, I knew. And I liked her voice, which could only make everything more difficult.

She watched the bathroom door pretty intently, never let her eyes leave it for long. I stayed planted in that chair, though I took my shirt off, used it to clean myself. I kept trying to pretend I didn’t want to go and lie down with her. I understood this was why he was taking so long to come back. That he wanted to see us together when he walked in again.

I looked at the pool some more. Lit another cigarette and just about when I thought I wasn’t going to, I got up and went to her, sat beside her and let her smoke through my fingers. Other than that I didn’t touch her.

She touched me, though. She seemed to want to undress me because she kept running her hand under my bra the way someone does before they unfasten it. So far, I hadn’t even taken off my shoes, nothing but my shirt and I’d had a reason for that.

I stopped her hand, got up to put out the cigarette, though I didn’t have to. There was another ashtray right there on the nightstand. She asked me my name and I gave her the one I use in these situations. I felt a strange twinge, though, as if somehow I owed her the truth.

She said, “So, Nina, did you come here only for him?” And when I didn’t answer she said, “I asked him to bring you. He brought you for me.”

I think she said brought. She might have said bought, I’m not sure. The thing I do know for sure is women do everything differently, though not so much so you can’t catch it.

I took off my skirt but just stood there, still in my shoes and stockings, and the bra I hadn’t let her take off me. I was trying to decide how hard a time to give her. But this wasn’t something I ever did with the men. When I realized this I slipped off the shoes and lay down with her.

I wasn’t sure how she wanted it. The men always say. Not real clearly, but enough so you know what they mean. She didn’t say anything. She tucked me under the bedspread and helped me out of my bra.

I lay back because she wasn’t letting me do anything, not right off. I let myself close my eyes again. This was something I wanted to do all of the time with all of the men, but I never chanced it. And here I was tonight giving in to it over and over. Giving in, though it should’ve been clear these two put me more at risk than anyone I’d ever encountered.

And it should’ve been clear by now, too, which of them put me most at risk. Still, I couldn’t help it. Her mouth on me had me needing too much to care and so even when I heard the door, knew he’d come in, I kept my eyes closed.

Her concession was to push the bedspread off us. And I was glad for it because it’d gotten too warm under there. She kept up her lead, which still wasn’t how I thought it should play. She kept me off balance, kept me flat on my back.

She’d taken off my stockings and so I had nothing on. He didn’t have to say a word for her to begin nudging me over. She did this a little at a time, until we lay across the bed instead of lengthwise.

I knew what his view was, and then she moved so she lay by my side instead of on top of me. I didn’t exactly care but it wasn’t so far from my mind anymore – him watching us. Maybe it never had been. I can’t say it really bothered me. I just thought it should.

She still kissed my breasts, was moving her hand across the top of my thighs, anywhere but in between them until I couldn’t keep still anymore and opened my legs. Even then she played me, said, “Come on and turn over.”

I did what she said, turned on to my stomach and then felt her hand on my back, her mouth near my ear. I was rubbing myself against the bedspread and she kept doing the same things, touching my ass, the back of my thighs, and then she slipped on to me. Caught my wrists and held my arms over my head the way he had. And still she kept her mouth close to my ear, though she didn’t say anything and neither did I.

I heard him before I felt him. Heard him pick up the chair and put it down again. He pulled my legs apart, just held them open.

She still wasn’t saying anything and she wasn’t doing anything but holding me, using all her weight, as if she needed to. He started to touch me. He used just one of his fingers and so slow and soft I nearly bit into my arm.

He did this a long while before he stopped. I heard him light a cigarette. Heard him take several draws before touching me again. And when he did, he rested the hand with the cigarette on my ass.

By now I either wanted to get off or get up. Had gone from being lulled to uncomfortable. He took his hand off me and I forgot myself. Moved to shake her off me.