Yearning (15 page)

His fingers lightly brushed her breast, finding the sensitive bud of her nipple. She sighed with an ancient longing as he drew her closer. She climbed over his lap to sit astride him, grasping handfuls of loose curls at the base of his scalp and opened her mouth wide to probe his with her tongue.

Pulling away from him, she whispered, ‘Touch me? With your eyes?’

His gaze drifted across the skin of her shoulders, breasts, belly and thighs, and she felt goosebumps rise across her flesh.

She smiled. ‘Don’t move.’

He stilled while she explored the length of his body with her hands and eyes, watching her move sleepily across him in circles until she reached his groin. She fondled him, licked him, blew on him, finally took him into her mouth with hungry delight. Groaning he pushed his hips up to meet her. She drew him in deeply, the effects of the drug relaxing her like never before.

She was overcome by a need to consume him as completely as her mouth would allow. The sounds breaking from him, animal sounds, deep and guttural,
drove her on. She drew herself up and, looking into his eyes, perched across him, folding a condom over his length before taking his cock in her hands and guiding it into the silky wetness between her legs. Ever so slowly she drew him inside her, the muscles of her vagina pulsing to a primal rhythm, minute movements bringing a new intensity. Then the consummate delight of it, the exquisite relief, to be finally locked completely together.

Her climax came upon her suddenly and strongly. Her whole body tensed and she shuddered uncontrollably over him, gasping. Her only disappointment was that it was too quick. Instead of satisfying her, it left her wanting more.

She looked at him and realised he was in another world entirely. He panted, pushing up against her, his eyes tightly closed. She placed one hand over his chest, the other behind his head and tried to keep pace with his movements, listening to his breathing merging into groaning, then into a slow wail as he reached the peak of his pleasure. When the moment had passed she collapsed over him, feeling the throbbing of him subsiding within her and her vagina contracting around him.

Buzzing in her head. Warmth rippling across her skin. A stillness within. Their breathing synchronised and she felt as though she were expanding into the space around her. Lightness replaced the weight in her body and she had the sensation that they were no longer two, but one, conjoined in some primal, organic way. Slowly she lifted her head to look at him and found him gazing at her in wonderment.

‘You feel that?’ His voice was a hoarse whisper.

She nodded in awe. Neither spoke. Too afraid to move in case the awareness dissipated, they remained with their
gaze and bodies locked together in deep embrace.

*

A flash of headlights through the front window and the sound of tyres on the gravel drive woke her. She lay across him, still connected, and realised they had fallen asleep.

‘Shit! My parents!’ she yelped as she pushed herself up. She scrabbled for her clothes.

He was disoriented, his deep sleep disturbed by her panic. It took him a few moments to understand what was going on.

‘My parents, Solomon, my parents! Shit. If they find me in here they’ll kill me. Oh God, what am I gonna do?’

The sound of car doors slamming and keys being pulled from pockets snapped him awake. His face fell as he grasped the situation.

‘Shit. Shit.
Shiiit
!’ She started to cry.

He touched her shoulder, hushing her quiet. ‘Calm down, babe. It’ll be okay. Just sneak around the back and see if you can get in without them seeing you. If they do, tell them you heard a noise and you were out checking on it.’

She threw her arms around him. ‘Good idea. God, I love you.’

She kissed him and made for the door. He wrestled with his jeans and tried to follow her. She looked out of the front window. The moon glinted on the metal and mirrors of the car. All else was silent and quiet. Lights were on in the front rooms of the house.

He placed his hand in the small of her back, propelling her towards the door. ‘Quick, go now. And be cool.’

He kissed her lightly on the top of her head. She flashed
him a worried smile and hurried out of the door.

Solomon watched her sneaking down his driveway. He cursed himself for being so careless. The secrecy of their affair depended on him being aware of time and boundaries. He shouldn’t have smoked the joint. It had made him drop his guard. He held his breath as he watched her creeping along the front path. He wasn’t in the habit of praying, but was about to ask the angels to get her home safely when the front door of her house opened and her father strode out into the night.

The watchmen that went about the city found me, they smote me, they wounded me; the keepers of the walls took away my veil from me.

The Song of Solomon

It took her a moment to realise her father was there, standing in the driveway watching her.

‘Where the hell have you been?’

She jumped, grateful for the darkness that hid her fright. Unsure if she could mask her unease she feigned light-heartedness.

‘Um . . . I thought I heard something out here. I was just checking it out.’ Please, God, let him believe me. Please let him believe me.

Her father looked at her standing uncertainly a few metres away. She was still dressed, her jacket undone. It was very late. Normally she’d be in bed.

‘I didn’t see you when we pulled in.’

‘Um, I was probably . . . in the garden.’

‘Bullshit. You’re lying. You know I hate lying. Where the hell have you been?’

The weight of her father’s interrogation pressed down around her. She felt herself contracting, trying to escape from his glare. Unable to look at him she started to fidget.

‘Can we go inside? I’m cold.’

‘No. Not until you tell me what you’ve been up to.’

Her father scrutinised her and she glanced at Solomon’s window. Her dad wasn’t an educated man but he was smart and he didn’t tolerate deceit. She’d watched him grill her mother often enough, for no good reason. He went after the truth like it was holy or something. Her father’s eyes followed her glance at the house next door. Solomon’s shadow haunted the curtains. She could almost smell the dark smoke of anger rising in her father.

‘Have you been next door with that bloody hippy teacher?’

‘No! No, I haven’t, Dad. Really.’ As soon as the words were out of her mouth she realised she was too quick to deny it.

In two steps he was next to her, slapping her across the back, pushing and shouting at her. ‘Get inside now! You little bugger. Inside! I know what you’ve been up to and I’ll have none of it. That bastard has taken advantage of enough women in this town and I’ll be damned if my daughter is one of them.’

He shoved her to the front door as her mother approached down the hall, anxious and wondering what all the shouting was about. She burst into tears and ran inside while her father strode determinedly down the drive, along the footpath and up to Solomon’s front door.

Solomon saw him coming. He zipped up his jeans just in time to see the door shake as her father thumped on it with his fist. Solomon put the chain on before he opened it and peeked through the crack to see a squat and thunderous man standing with his fists clenched.

‘Mr Baxter. Joe, isn’t it? It’s kind of late for a house call.’

‘It’s Mr Baxter to you. I want to talk to you.’

‘Can’t it wait? It’s after midnight.’

‘You’re up.’

Solomon unsnibbed the chain and opened the door. Baxter pushed his way into the lounge, noticing Solomon’s clothes scattered about the floor. He sniffed at the air then glared at Solomon.

‘What the hell have you been doing with my daughter?’

Solomon stood calmly, crossing his arms over his bare chest. ‘What are you talking about?’

Baxter glared at Solomon. ‘You might think I’m some thick country half-wit, you smart-arse, but I’m not,’ he snarled. ‘I can smell marijuana. What the hell have you been up to with her in here?’

The irate man dominated the cosy room. Solomon deliberated his options. He could prove nothing. The smell of dope was all he had on him. Solomon decided to hedge his bets.

‘I’m sorry Mr Baxter, but you seem to have the wrong idea. Your daughter comes here sometimes to hang out, that’s all. What I do with my time when she’s not around is my business.’

‘Listen, mate, I’m tellin’ you it stops now. My daughter might reckon the sun shines out your arse, but I know better.’

Solomon held the man’s gaze. ‘Exactly what do you think has been going on, Mr Baxter?’

Joe Baxter’s fists were rising as he spoke. His neck flushed red. ‘You sleazy bastard. Hangin’ out? Is that what you call it? You’ve had her in here smokin’ dope and God knows what else. If she’s pregnant I’ll bloody ruin you.’

Solomon reeled backwards and smirked. ‘Excuse me? Are you serious? You think I’ve been having sex with your daughter?’

Baxter stared at Solomon’s naked chest. Suddenly self-conscious, Solomon leaned over to pick up his T-shirt. Joe Baxter was exactly the sort of man Solomon despised – rough, pushy, insecure, used to dominating everyone around him. A lot like the union men who littered his parents’ home in his youth. Solomon was determined this knuckle-dragging gorilla would not bring him undone.

He unfolded his arms, opening them out towards his protégé lover’s father, his palms turned up in a helpless way. ‘Take a good look at me, Mr Baxter. Go on.’

Baxter surveyed Solomon’s well-built, half naked body.

‘I’m single, under thirty and a respected teacher in this town. I have no trouble attracting women. Now ask yourself, squire, what would a man like me want with your daughter?’ Solomon raised his eyebrows.

Baxter eyed him suspiciously. Solomon wanted no argument with him. He just wanted him out of his house and the best way to do that was to make a fool of him. He knew he had Baxter cornered. He couldn’t prove anything. He was safe as long as she kept her mouth shut.

The muscles in Baxter’s neck were working. Sensing his rising hostility, Solomon dropped his arms and turned on
his charm. ‘Look, if you must know, she came over to talk while I was in the middle of having a smoke. She wanted to try it but I wouldn’t let her. I wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be right. She stayed late listening to music. It was harmless. I know I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have smoked in front of her. I’m sorry. I promise it won’t happen again.’

Baxter shook his head. Solomon was pleased with himself. It was all so believable. He could see that Baxter wasn’t happy, but he had nowhere else to go with it.

‘Too bloody right it won’t happen again.’

Baxter took a step towards Solomon, who stood his ground and held his gaze. The two men squared off with each other, waiting for the other to retreat. Baxter’s face looked like it was about to explode. He was breathing hard through his nostrils, like an enraged bull.

‘You. I know you. I’ve seen the likes of you before. Up-yourself city bloke with smart-arsed ways. My wife nearly fell for an arsehole like you and I’ll be buggered if I’ll let my daughter go the same way. I can’t prove anything happened tonight, but I tell you now, the only reason I won’t report you is I have to live in this town and I won’t have my daughter shamed.’

Baxter’s furious spittle landed on Solomon’s lips and cheeks and he pushed a finger hard into Solomon’s shoulder, trying to unbalance him. Solomon stood fast and refused to break his gaze.

‘You leave my daughter alone, you hear me? You don’t have anything to do with her. She won’t be coming over here again. No more tutoring. No more gardening. You look after your own damned yard like the rest of us, ya useless prick.’

Solomon remained silent as Baxter stood nose to nose with him, his fists hanging like bowling balls at the end of his arms. Without warning he let go a snap strike to Solomon’s nose. Solomon reeled backwards, tripping over the edge of the couch and steadying himself against its back. He felt hatred rise in him and wrestled down the urge to fight back, knowing it would only make the situation worse.

Baxter stood over him, his body a clenched fist of aggression. Solomon cradled his nose between his fingers as blood dripped onto the carpet. His knees had buckled but he refused to sit down. When he spoke, his voice was muffled by his hands. ‘Mr Baxter, I think you’d better leave.’

‘Let that be a bloody lesson. Plenty more where that came from, arsehole.’ With that, Baxter turned and marched out the front door, leaving it swinging open to the night.

Solomon, his body stiff with tension, exhaled in relief. Slowly he sank down on the couch and pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose. In minutes he heard shouts lashing from the house next door and recognised the high-pitched screaming of a young girl. He started to tremble, the after-effects of adrenaline rushing through his body. He buried his bloodied face in his hands and sat that way for a very long time.

*

When the shouting was over she lay curled in a ball, weeping on her bed. Thank God Solomon had denied everything but the dope. That alone had been enough to send her dad over the edge. She was banned from visiting
Solomon. No more tutoring. No more work in the garden. No more excuses. She longed for escape, she longed for him – the strength of his arms and the soothing tone of his voice.

She considered going to him. Maybe she could sneak out in the tiny hours of the morning. Maybe they could run away together. Maybe he would come for her. She pulled the pillow over her head as she heard her father cursing in the bedroom, the aftershocks of his anger still reverberating around the house. Solomon would come for her, of course he would, she was sure of it. He would find a way for them to escape this mess and be together.

In the morning her mother hovered outside her bedroom door, lecturing her and pleading with her by turn. Her father made enough noise around the house to leave her in no doubt about how he felt. Doors were slammed, dishes were thrown down on the benchtop and floorboards squealed under the weight of his furious pacing. He ranted loudly into the empty air of the kitchen.