Fire In His Eyes (16 page)

“I am going to cum,” I screamed.

“Go ahead,” he panted and tugged on the chain of the nipple clamps with one hand as he stroked himself.  The combination of the pleasure and the pain was exquisite. I came, and squirmed, and came some more. It didn’t stop.  I thrashed and practically kicked him off of me. He left the vibrator on my clit, and let go of the chain, and slowly pulled the Ben Wa balls out, one, then two.  I kept cumming and screaming.  My eyes rolled to the back of my head. It was just so intense.  I felt like I was going mad and began to cry and squirm.  He continued to stroke himself until he too, came, and spewed semen all over my pussy, and legs and abdomen.  He quickly removed the vibrator, and asked if I was okay.  I was unable to stop crying.

“Yes,
” I cried, “It was just so much sensation.  Overwhelming,” I panted and my crying began to lessen.  He lay beside me and stroked my arms, and pulled me close until I regained some control.

“You didn’t like it?” he asked.
  He looked worried.

“No, no, that’
s not it,” I stated.  “I just don’t think I could do that every night, or I might go crazy.” I knew I wasn’t explaining it right, I just didn’t have the words right now, couldn’t form the thoughts.

“But once in a while?” he asked hopefully
.  His hands still continues to caress me, soothe me.

“Most definitely!” I
leaned up and kissed him on the lips, then collapsed back onto the bed.

He held me for a fe
w minutes like that, and then got up, to use the restroom.  He came out with a washcloth and cleaned me up, and gave me one of his shirts to wear.  I slipped it on and inhaled it. I loved it when he let me wear his shirts.  I loved to breathe in his scent all night.  It comforted me. He cleaned up the toys we had used and then came to bed spooning me in the position he liked best.  “Thank you, Monica.  You don’t know how much it meant to me for you to do this, baby,” his words said in a whisper tickled the hair along my nape, and he pressed a kiss there.

I wanted to tell him, I loved him in that moment, but instead I just said, “You’re welcome.”  And, I fell asleep in his arms.

Sunday was a
nother late morning.  We ran together again along another one of Ft. Lauderdale’s beaches, had a quick breakfast at a diner, showered back in the hotel and left for home.  The ride was quiet, but pleasantly so.  Victor made us chef salads at his apartment for dinner and then walked me to my car.  We kissed, and held each other for a long while outside my car before he spoke.

“Thank
you for a beautiful weekend, Monica.  You are really so special.”  The look in his eyes was one of wonder and disbelief, but then turned to regret.  “I wish things were different in my life.  I feel closer to you than ever, but I still can’t make you promises, promises you deserve.”  He pressed my head to his chest, and held me so that I could not see his eyes, eyes that could tell me more than those painful words, but he wouldn’t let go.

Those words crushed me afte
r the weekend we just had.  But instead of saying anything, I muttered into his neck, “Thursday, then?”

He whispered, “Thursday,”
and let me go.  He turned and walked to his apartment without ever looking back.

But,
Thursday never happened.  I got the call at four o’clock, something had come up with family.  That’s all he could say. 
Would say?
I didn’t ask.  He might be able to come Sunday though, but that didn’t happen either.

The following Thursday,
Victor did come see me.  We watched the finale of
Friends,
me on one side of the sofa, him on the other.  He was quiet and subdued.  “I’m really going to miss that show,” he sighed. “Come on I need comfort food,” he gave me his hand and I took it.  We went to Village Inn and had pie and talked about the episode.  I could tell other things were on his mind bothering him.  I asked about his work.  He admitted to me again that he hated it.  The people he hired didn’t show up when they were supposed to, didn’t follow directions, had no respect for other guys doing different jobs.  It was not like the military where everything was orderly, and structured.  He missed the rank and file.  The respect.  In the military if you did not do what you were supposed to there were consequences.  If he fired someone, it delayed the whole job, and it was a nightmare rescheduling.  I sympathized.  I knew how behavior problems could screw up a whole lesson plan.

I asked him
as I moved my chocolate silk pie around on the plate, “Why don’t you go back to the military?  If it made you happy, you should see if you can back in.” 

“I’d love to.  I really would.  The money wasn’t great, but at least I felt like I was doing something wort
hwhile, something that mattered.  It’s not like building condos and townhouses for rich people that spend a week or two in them at most every year.”  He rubbed his temples.

“
Did you change jobs just for the money?”  I asked not sure if I should probe deeper, but wanting to help him with this decision.

“Pretty much, yeah.” He replied.
  He pushed his apple pie away just as untouched as my own.

“Do you really need the money?” I asked.
  Again, I was trying to get him to way his pros and cons.

“Not really,” he replied.  “I changed jobs because there were expectations that I earn more.”  He left it at that and I didn’t ask for more information.  I knew from experience that when people wanted your advice they would ask for it.
  But, I could have asked whose expectations.  I didn’t want to press to hard.  I wondered why he put so much pressure on himself.  Many military families got by on their salaries.  It wasn’t a great living, but it was enough to live comfortably, gave great insurance, and a decent pension.

Victor signaled for the check, and paid for the pie and coffee.  He
helped me out of the booth, held my hand on the way to the car, and got the door for me.

We pul
led into my driveway and he shut off the car, but he made no move to get out.  I waited for the words I somehow knew were coming the moment he had arrived tonight and I saw his somber mood.  “I’m sorry, Monica.  I just don’t feel like myself today, all week actually.  Got a lot on my mind with work.  I hate this shit.  It’s not you, okay?” he tried to reassure me when he saw my head drop.  “I promise next week will be better.”

“You don’t want to come in, at all?
For a little while?” I asked looking up at him, but he would not meet my gaze.

“I don’t think it would be a good idea. I am just not feeling it tonight. 
I’ll call you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Okay,”
I said flatly. I got out of the car, he didn’t.  He waited for me to unlock the front door, and before I could turn around to wave, he was backing out of my driveway.

I went to my room, and cried myself to sleep. 
It had been nearly two weeks since our trip, and this had been the first time I had seen him.  It wasn’t just about the sex for me.  I missed his companionship, too.  It was a long night, long night.

He called me in the morning to apologize again.  He laughed and said, “That episode of
Friends
got to me.  I’ve been watching that show forever.  It’s like the end of an era or something.”  I thought his laugh sounded a little bit phony.  When I didn’t respond right away, he added, “Okay, have a good day.  I’ll call you tonight,” and hung up.

He called every night that weekend between ten and eleven
as usual. He asked about my day, told me about his but that was it.  There was no more sharing, laughing, teasing.  After ten minutes or so, we would hang up.  The calls weren’t the same.  They didn’t satisfy me or comfort me between our weekly rendezvous.

By Wednesday, I was really getting worried.  I felt like he was p
utting this distance between us on purpose.  He was in a dark place with his job, and he was taking it out on me.  When he called, I offered to come up the next day instead of him driving.

“No, I don’t think so,”
he stammered.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Mmm,” he uttered.  “I think Kat is having some friends over or something.”

“Okay, then.  I’ll
guess I will see you tomorrow. Bye, Victor.”  I clicked off my cell and hoped I hadn’t sounded sarcastic.

On Thursday, he was an hour late.  I had been crying, and although I had run to the bathroom and washed my face when I saw his car pull up, the tell-tale signs were there.  I was no good at hiding my feelings. He looked in my eyes, and saw my pain.  I saw it reflected back at me in his eyes when I looked at him. He reached out to hold my face, eyes intense he whispered, “I’m sorry.  I never wanted to hurt you.  I didn’t think it would last.”  He kissed me, each swollen eye first, and then on my lips.  It was so tender, my heart broke.  Not breaking the kiss, he steered me backwards and softly closed the door behind him.  He picked me up, swinging me into his arms carrying me straight to my bedroom.  There were no words that night.  He made love to me slowly, straight sex, but it was beautiful.  I fell asleep in his arms, and when I woke he was still there looking at me in the dawn’s early light.

“You didn’t leave
.” The awe in my voice was apparent.  I was touched he had stayed so long.

“
Yeah, I didn’t want to leave you.  I wanted to be sure you were okay.  You’re okay, right?” he looked me in the eyes.  His eyes were baggy, dark circles underneath them.

“
I’m okay, but what about you? Did you sleep, at all?” I asked concern for him apparent in my voice.

“Not much,” he turned to me lying on his side.  I did the same.
“Monica, we have to talk, but there are things I just can’t seem to tell you.  I don’t think I can find the right words to make you understand.”  I could see the internal struggle he was battling with. “When I do, I will tell you. I wish I could tell you now, it would be such a relief to get it off my chest, not having to live with these other secrets.”  His eyes searched my face for answers I couldn’t give him because I didn’t know the questions.

“There are other secrets?”  I asked.

“Yes.”  He closed his eyes and nodded briefly.

“Why can’t you tell me, Victor?
  I wish you would.  Maybe, your mind is making more out of it than it really is, like with the toys and other things.”  I was grasping at straws here.  I knew whatever this next secret was it was going to be a whopper, but I hated feeling like this, and seeing him like this.

“
I can’t tell you because I can’t have you, and I don’t want to give you up.” It looked like he was battling some serious demons.  I wished I could help him.

“I don’t want you to give me up
, either!”  I sat up in bed, suddenly terrified, and took his hands.  “Don’t give me up, please.  Don’t give up on us,” I begged.

“I should.  You’d be better off!”  He turned to lie on his back looking up at the ceiling pulling away from me.

“I wouldn’t,” I stated firmly. “Victor, I wouldn’t be better off without you.  Don’t say that,” I was pleading now.

“Yes, you would.”  His voice
was full of resignation.

“So, where do we go from here?”  I asked
grasping the bed sheets in my hand. Fear, like a knot in my stomach, made me nauseous.

“I don’t know.  I’ve got
things to think about.  I guess we are still in the same situation.  I can’t, won’t, make promises to you I can’t keep.  I don’t want to lie to you, but I guess I’m lying to you because there a lot of things I am not telling you.  Lies by omission.”  His laugh was cold and he still was staring at the ceiling not looking at me.

When I first woke up to see him here, I had been touched, but now just a few minutes later I was terrified and because of that I was getting angry.  I did not like the direction this conversation was going in.  I didn’t like at
all.  “Well,” I stated sarcastically, “At least you’re being honest about the fact that you are lying to me.” I was extremely frustrated that this conversation was going around in circles and I didn’t understand any of it.

“
Ouch, Monica!”  His sharp eyes turned to me.