Maggie's Five ...the first in a LOVE story (15 page)

Jon’s parents
are still overseas finding their piece. I’m trying to be happy for
them.

Honestly, I’m so
jealous they’ve found a way to heal, I could spit.

My phone chimes,
alerting me to an incoming text, and I breathe a loud sigh of
relief, grateful for the distraction. It’s Red telling me to be
ready for when he comes for me. He only comes at night, which is
fine because I tend to sleep most of the day. We’ve had more nights
out together than I can clearly recollect. He always gives me
something in the car on the way to the club, or party, or bar, that
makes me feel amazingly oblivious. I like that he does that… more
than I should.

I run to the
shower and do my thing, stepping over the disarray I’m ignoring in
my bedroom. I settle on wearing a black denim mini skirt, my killer
patent heels because they’re the highest I have, and a black tube
top – or, as my mum used to call it, a boob tube. The nights are
getting colder but I don’t want to have to carry a jacket, so I
don’t bother with one.

I’ve noticed my
makeup has gotten heavier to conceal the slight imperfections
developing on my left cheek and jaw, and to cover up the dark
circles under my eyes. The kohl pencil I use is blacker, thicker.
It should make my green irises brighter, but it’s a dull stare I
see looking back at me in the mirror. My lip gloss is richer and my
hair wilder, which isn’t hard given all the red curls.

A car horn
blasts from the street. I race down the stairs, twisting my ankle
slightly, but not badly. I hop to the entrance table and collect my
purse and keys. I want to compose myself so I won’t look too eager
to see him, but it’s difficult. I really like the fog he brings
when I’m with him. I think I could be a little hooked on that
fog.

I walk out the
house, trying to disguise my slight limp, and open the car door,
bending at the waist to look in before sitting. I think part of me
is trying to be sexy, but years of being married make it hard to
remember how to flirt… that is, if I even knew how to in the first
place.

“
Hi,”
I purr - at least I hope I’m purring like a Playboy Bunny, but I
highly doubt it.

Red smirks in
reply, his gaze dropping to my cleavage. “Nice top sweetheart.
Hurry up and get your arse in.”

We speed off
while I’m still buckling up the seatbelt. Red has the cash out of
my purse, a flask in my hand and a pill on my tongue by the time we
take the first bend. It’s fine because it’s nothing real,
right?

Tonight the club
we’re parked near has a weathered sign painted over the narrow
doorway, the word Haze written crudely above it. The building’s
dated but there’s a small crowd congregating around the entrance,
so it’s clearly a popular place given it’s the middle of the
week.

Red has my hand
in his, and is pulling me to the side before we even make it to the
crowd. He rests a joint in my mouth and flicks his lighter, holding
it steady while I drag on the end like he’s taught me.

I’m such a good
student; I know how to take a shot, drink from a hip flask, swallow
tiny, tiny pills and smoke a joint, all like I’ve been shown. What
more could you ask for?

Red steals the
joint from my lips and takes a pull, holding it in. He returns his
lighter and removes something else and lifts it for me to
see.

“
Just
another half sweetheart. Another full hit will have you on your
arse, you’re so fucking skinny.”

I’m skinny? I’ve
never been thin before.

He bites the
small pill in half, swallowing the portion between his teeth and
placing the other through my parted lips and under my tongue. He
reaches inside his jacket and passes me the flask, instructing me
to “finish it off” - so I do, dropping the empty container in my
bag so he doesn’t have to carry it.

His eyes catch
my every move while he inhales deeply on the joint again. Holding
it captive, Red then wraps a hand around the back of my neck and
meshes his mouth over mine, kissing the smoke into me. The mix of
pills, booze and Red is heaven.

His aggressive
mouth is firm and probing and I love it. He picks me up by the back
of my legs and turns me so my back’s against the harsh bricks and
then deepens our kiss, grinding his body against mine as the haze
thickens and my nerve endings tingle. He takes my weight and moves
us into a closed doorway, hitching up my skirt and sliding his hand
to the edge of my underwear, lightly tracing the lace covered
elastic. My fingers tangle in his choppy black hair and my
heart-rate soars with his probing fingers.

My phone starts
vibrating in my back pocket.

“
Ignore it,” Red growls, biting on my earlobe.

My head’s awash
with chemical lust, there was never a chance of me answering it. I
take his face in my hands and bring his mouth back to mine, kissing
him with everything I can manage through my fog. My perfect,
perfect fog.

“
I
want in you,” he gravels out, tearing my panties to one side and
sliding two fingers through my wet folds. “Fuck you’re soaked
sweetheart, hold on.”

He lets me go -
then has to quickly grab hold of my butt when he feels me slipping.
I can’t seem to find the strength to carry my own body weight.
Opting to prop me onto his hip instead, I attack his
neck.

Red takes his
wallet out of his back pocket. “Undo my pants sweetheart,” he
commands, flicking the leather open. My hands automatically fumble
for his waistband and start popping the buttons while he takes out
a condom and roughly shoves at the back pocket of his pants as they
loosen from my hold.

He rips the
packet open with his teeth and hands me the contents, dropping the
package to the ground as he returns his strong grip to my
backside.

“
Hurry sweetheart, I need to fuck you now.” His breaths hiss
through clenched teeth as I roll the rubber over his hard
cock.

The next thing I
know, he’s inside me, slamming his length into me as deeply as he
can go, shifting my hips for better access. He takes all he can get
over and over until he releases a growl, jerking with so much force
that my head hits the brickwork painfully. One, two thrusts and he
freezes; one more and he’s done with a choked cry of
pleasure.

And I’m left…
stunned.

With all the
build-up and anticipation I thought it was going to be amazing,
but… I don’t know, I’m left wanting and needing. I reach my hand
between our stomachs to rub over myself, to find my
climax.

Red lowers me to
the ground, slapping my hand away. “We’re done. Fix yourself
up.”

My buzz is
burning to suffocation and I want to leave and stay, be held and
pushed away. I want to cry and laugh and scream and breathe and
breathe… I want to be home, on my own and be done with Red and the
liquor, the pubs, the pot and pills and confusion and lies and
people and… and... and me.

My chest starts
to heave. I can’t inhale.

My throat’s
contracting, compressing my every attempt for air. My head’s
becoming light and my vision is blurring.

Red takes my arm
and drags me towards the club. I can’t find my feet though, and I
stumble to my knees, gasping for oxygen, my eyes filling with
tear,; my heart-rate in frenzy as panic sets in. My stomach churns
and I heave painfully once, then again, vomiting over the concrete
and my hands. Lost in my dizzying fog, I vaguely perceive voices
passing me by, mixed with Red’s anger.

Rough arms lift
me and set me on shaking legs. A hand slaps my face, causing me to
stumble sideways and scrape my bare shoulder on the nearby
wall.

“
For
fuck sake Maggie, snap out of it.”

I’m trying… I’m
tryin... drawing rasping useless gasps. I can’t focus, can’t see
through my open eyes.

I’m shaken so
violently, my head lolls uncontrollably. “Fucking hell. Get in a
fucking taxi. We’re done.”

“
You’re done with me?” I whisper holding onto the cold wall
and watching his foggy silhouette stride away.

I absently wipe
the back of my hand over my mouth to clean away the bile dripping
to my chest, then sluggishly stagger towards the end of the street
in search of a taxi, waving off a group of women when they approach
asking if I need help.

He’s leaving
too.

three

Chapter 9

I’M WONDERFULLY warm and surprisingly
comfortable. Strong arms hold me tight with a hand secure over my
waist, the other in my hair tethering me to a muscular chest. But
it’s the smell that has me rousing. Inhaling, I bury my face into
the soft cotton shirt. This scent right here, I could wrap myself
up in it for the rest of my life. It’s masculine, woodsy and
comforting and all things safe. It’s Brendan, my Brendan, but
better. Brendan mixed with... mixed with…

My eyes fly open
as I dart upright. “LUKE,” I shriek, shuffling away from his
hold.

“
Shit. What, what is it?” Luke leaps out of the bed, darting
for the door, slowing when he reaches the hall, looking left and
right for the cause of alarm.

“
What
the hell are you doing?” I yell flabbergasted from the bed, trying
to ignore the pounding in my brain.

He looks
confused. “Maggie Mae?” he mumbles, still half asleep, running his
hands through his blonde hair. It’s longer, so he pushes messy
strands behind his ears. It looks good on him. He looks good. I
want to hate him for that, but can’t seem to.

He’s dressed in
a pair of cotton boxer shorts and a loose fitting t-shirt. Both are
articles of clothing I’ve never seen before, so why do I smell
Brendan? My eyes close and chin drops. When I breathe Brendan in,
my heavy lids open and widen in horror or surprise or longing. I’m
not sure, maybe all three.

I’m wearing
Brendan’s Rolling Stones Vintage Tongue t-shirt - one of the many
things of his I threw in my rage, and am now grateful I didn’t
manage to ruin. Brendan loved the Rolling Stones. After all,
‘Who doesn’t like a little Jagger action?’
Brendan’s words,
not mine. But he’s right, who doesn’t?

“
When
did you get here?” I ask, rubbing my hands over my face and
probably smearing what’s left of last night’s makeup. And how did I
end up wearing my dead husband’s clothes?

Lying back down
and pulling me gently over his chest, Luke sighs tiredly. “Late -
early. Stupid o’clock, I think.”

“
Stupid o’clock?” I repeat to hear him chuckle at my
query.

Remember I
don’t need him, I don’t need him, I don’t need him,
I chant
silently. He’ll give me hope then take it all away. I don’t want to
need him, I don’t... but God I’ve missed him, really missed him.
Far more than I realised until now.

“
How
did you get in?” I ask cautiously, feeling my stubborn resolve
crumbling in a not so stubborn manner. Clearly something I’ll have
to work on around Luke.

“
You
left the door open. Not just unlocked, I mean wide open.” Shit, I
don’t remember anything after getting into the taxi. “And you we’re
kind of… sprawled out on the floor...” Luke isn’t speaking at me,
nor using an accusing tone. He is simply stating facts in his
sleepy voice.

I’m ashamed and
embarrassed at being caught out and don’t know what to say, so I
say nothing. After a brief silence, he continues, “You were covered
in um... you had some... I had to change you and that’s the first
thing I found,” he says, fingering the gathered fabric resting on
my stomach. “I didn’t think you would like waking up in my
clothes.” I feel him shrug under me. I’m still wearing my bra and
underwear so know he didn’t try to get me to shower or see more of
me naked than necessary, which I’m glad for. I look a little
knocked around at the moment.

“
I
went out and must have had a little too much, I guess.”

“
Hey,
it’s okay Maggie, I understand. After I lost-” Luke cuts off
abruptly, huffing out once. “I get it. I understand.”

After he lost
what? I want to ask him more but am too afraid of the answers he
may give.

I try to roll
away from him because I’m still dirty from last night, dirty from
Red’s touch, dirty from my own hand. Luke’s hold tightens, pressing
me into him - and I can’t help but soak up his warmth no matter how
wrong I know it is.

Our breathing
evens out in unison and the clarity of my reality weighs
agonizingly in my heart. He’s here but can leave me, will leave me
again no matter how much I want him to stay. I’m selfish. Being
petrified of what’s outside in the tangible world can have that
effect though, when you’re completely alone.

“
I’m
mad with you, Luke,” I say, surprising myself, unsure where my
statement came from.

He turns us so
we’re both on our sides, facing each other. “Are you?” His brows
cross, giving me his undivided attention. “Why?”

Before I can
answer, my eyes fill with thick tears and a sob escapes from deep
in my chest.

“
Hey
Maggie Mae, I’m here now. I’m back,” he whispers, wrapping me in
his arms.