I hear the crack of sound before my nerves even register I’ve been slapped. I cast my eyes downward, unable to face my former friend.” Do you hear me?” She demands,” You let him die.”
Tears fall onto my shirt; I don’t deserve the dignity of hiding my pain. Silence rings in my head as my partner’s widow stands angrily before me. I know that we have interrupted the ceremony irreparably, thus completing my disgrace. The clicking of Cam’s retreating steps to remind me that my castigation is not yet final. I look up and meet the mortified stares of my fellow officers and all of Jim’s family circle. Losing my courage, I avert my eyes and awkwardly make my way to the great ornate exit. I need to breathe air that I haven’t stained, so I go out into the church’s sickly garden.
The sting of Camilla’s small hand throbs on my cheek, making me wish she’d punched me instead. I deserve to be sore and swollen. I stand, staring out into the courtyard. I stare nothing, praying to Jim’s GOD to take me. The heartache propels me, fueling my fervent prayer. I don’t deserve the kindness of death, but without that mercy, that euthanizing touch, my bones will snap under the pressure of my heavy anguish.
I take a deep breath and find a small bench on which to rest and hide. The church organ has resumed in my absence, muting almost every other ambient noise. I rise to trudge my way back home and into my lumpy bed, but I catch something in my periphery. There, with her face contorted into a grimace, is my XO.” It’s not your fault, Lewis”
Her fruitless attempt at pacifying me is an olive branch, but I don’t have the patience now to indulge her pity.
“Please,” I say, choking up,” please.”
Somehow she mistakes my pleading for solitude as a plea for help or needing comfort. She moves closer, stands on her toes, and gently places her arms around my neck. Her long, curvy body leans against mine as if we were lovers, locked in a familiar embrace. My body responds to her softness, and for a deplorable moment, I want to fuck her in the garden. I want to, but I won’t abuse her body or her trust to feel better about my own grief.
“Shawna”, I draw back from her.” Don’t.”
Her face goes through a rapid transformation; from confused, to offended, to hurt – all in seconds. I turn to walk away before she becomes angry, and neither does she speak nor reach to me. I use an overgrown path, which seems to stretch around the circumference of the small church, so that I can leave without rousing anymore drama.
20 or so minutes later, I’m home and kicking off my shoes. They are, or were, nice dress shoes, though not made for walking to and from funerals to which one is not invited. When I didn’t receive an invitation last week, I’d assumed Cam had so much on her plate that she’d neglected a few things. Though I’d known that our friendship couldn’t be the same, I still could not fathom the hatred Cam harbored. So imagine how shocking it was to be crashing my best friend’s funeral.
Jewel follows my every move as I undress in autopilot. My whole life seems surreal, as I blindly navigate through my own home. I cannot seem to remember where I keep my around the house clothes, so I shed my pants and shirt, and walk around in my bra and panties. Cam’s red-tinted face clouds my senses. I know that she is right. I killed Jimmy that day-or at least contributed to his murder.
Jewel trips me at almost every step, and yalova escort I fight the urge to kick her. She’s a good dog, a mutt, but a faithful friend, so my guilt is pushed up a notch at the idea of hurting my dog. She’s just happy to see me, and can probably tell I’m upset. I check her bowls, but I must have fed and watered her earlier this morning.
It’s still morning, around ten thirty, but I have nothing to do. Nor do I want to do anything. I wish I was a drinker, so I could get lost in a bottle. Fuck it, I think, as I strip my bra off as I walk to my shitty couch. The nice clothes I leave trailing in my wake are the only nice things I own. The rest of my wardrobe consists of workout clothes and my uniforms. I thought it would be too disrespectful to wear my uniform to my partner’s funeral. I sigh, plopping my tired body on the couch. I reach over to the phone to turn the ringer on in case Jim calls, only to be reduced to wracking sobs at my stupidity. But I still leave the ringer on in case Cam is not done with me.
I stink, so I make my way to my modest bathroom. Without fetching a towel, I start the water. I put it on high pressure and don’t even bother testing the temperature with my hand before I step in. Instead of the scolding hot water I deserved, cold water dominates my shower. Despite my earlier need to be punished, the cold water is too much for me so I even it out with some hot and quickly lather my torso. I lather my limbs next, my privates, and then my feet. It’s been a tradition since childhood, and it feels good to at least have one routine back to normal.
I tip-toe to my bedroom and find some comfort in the setup of the room. My bedroom is large and so is everything in it. My bed is enormous and there is a large extra soft area rug partially under it, on which I like to stand and get dressed. I walk over to my closet to get a towel and dry off there by the closet door. I walk over to the bed and lie down naked on my back, assessing my brown body.
I don’t have a generous amount of breasts, and my body is pretty average. I don’t have sex a lot, but when I do, I’m meticulous with my lovers, not allowing myself to orgasm until my partners do. In fact, I can only achieve orgasm when they do. I don’t have any lovers at the moment simply because I don’t need some needy woman crowding my space. Now I wish I had a soft lover on whom to cling.
I hear Jewel getting excited in the other room, so I force myself to get up and throw on a tee shirt and some jeans. It’s now after noon, and I know she needs to be walked, and doesn’t deserve to be ignored. As I walk toward the living room, I notice that Jewel is not by the door. My heart beats faster and I try to hold my breath. Jewel is not an attack dog; she would most likely welcome an intruder with open paws.
My off duty weapon is in the living room and I know my door is unlocked because my community is so docile. Though I welcomed death this morning, I know in this moment that I want to survive. But damned if I bitch up now.
“Who’s there?” I project firmly and loudly.
“Lewis, it’s me.” I hear Shawna’s soft voice answer.
At first I am relieved, but I soon realize that this lady will not leave me alone until I talk it out. My least favorite activity. I enter fully into my living room and see Shawna petting Jewel. Jewel has taken the liberty of climbing up onto my couch so that Shawna can do so.
“Down, zonguldak escort girl.” I say, and immediately Jewel jumps down and pads to the door. I sit down in place of the small animal.
“I know you don’t want to, but you need to talk to me.” Shawna squares her shoulders and pierces my eyes with her own bright blue ones.
“Why is that?” I challenge.
“Please, Samantha?”
Shawna has never said my first name before and it makes me turn my face away so that she can’t see my tears.
“Come on, girl” I say to the dog, as I stood and headed toward the door. Cowardly, I know, but I can’t do this right now. Unfortunately for me, as I leave to walk the dog, Shawna follows behind me. Whatever, I think, as I am led to Jewel’s favorite spots to sniff and pee on my street.
Shawna says nothing, but falls in place beside me as we walk and then round each corner back toward my home. Eventually, we return and I detach and hang Jewel’s leash by the door, while the animal runs toward my guest room, probably to take a nap. I sit down next to Shawna, who has made herself quite at home.
“Fine, we don’t have to talk, but I’m not leaving until I know that you’re ok.” She places her hand on my shoulder, and I almost groan at the contact.
Shawna doesn’t know that I’m gay, and I hope she doesn’t know that I have been lusting after her for five years. Ever since I first met her at the house and saw her brick house body. She had dark brown hair cut like a pixie, and her uniform fit her like a glove. Her breasts were a handful, but firm looking and perky. Her waist was slim, but her hips flared out to accent her round ass. The locker room was my own personal hell. Her pretty face and sexy body washing right next to me every damn day. Then I got to know her and we became reluctant friends. The reluctance was on my end. She was so bubbly and bright, the first white girl to catch my attention. I couldn’t give her the cold shoulder any longer, and we began to hang out after work at the bar by her house.
Now, she is rubbing my shoulder and inching closer. Then she is right next to me, and I am once again holding my breath. Her right arm lifts to round my shoulders, and she brings her other hand up to my face. I have been crying, but am too distracted by her closeness to lift my hand to wipe my own face. I sit with my hands on my lap, fighting the urge to place my left hand on her bare thigh.
The phone rings, making Shawna jump, and bringing me back into my harsh reality. My friend died and now Cam hates me. I reach over Shawna to pick up the receiver, who doesn’t budge, causing me to mash my upper body onto hers. I place the phone up to my ear, as I settle back into my seat.
“Hello?” I rasp into the phone.
Silence greets me, and I want to hang up, but I hope its Cam.
“Lewis.” It is Cam, and her voice sounds hollow. “I’m…I’m sorry.”
“Cam, I” I start to say, but she hangs up, leaving me confused. I feel as if I’ve lost a hundred pounds with relief. I’m tired and I forget I have Shawna pressed up against my side until she squeezes my shoulder.
“I read the autopsy report to Camille after the funeral.” I turn to look at her, and my face must be incredulous because she blanches.
“Jim suffered from cardiac distress during the fire fight. His reflexes were not under his own control.” She soldiered on. “There was nothing you could have zonguldak escort done.”
I stare at her, not knowing what to say. “What?” is all I whisper, looking away.
“I know it’s little solace, but you need to know that, Sam.” She whispers back, directly into my ear. I feel her warm breath in the shell of my ear and feel her full lips caress it. I jump as my abdomen tightens and flutters. I pull away, and turn back to look at her face. Shawna slowly leans forward and brushes her lips over mine. I groan and she leans back into the couch, still making eye contact.
“I’m sorry, I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” Shawna blushes as she confesses to me. She’s never called me anything but Lewis, and it’s all I can think about. I sit, stunned and feel her lift herself up, using my shoulder as leverage.
“Sorry, I just thought…” she starts, but I rise and lower my face to hers. I kiss her, blindly, and without the gentility she afforded me. I tangle my right hand in her hair and reach my left arm around her, pulling her tightly to my body. Shawna whimpers and I push my tongue into her mouth, and she sucks and licks on it. My hand grabs her hair more forcefully and I pull her away from me.
“Are you sure?” I need to know how far she wants to go. I know she’s straight, and I’m not sure if she knows how women fuck. She is staring at my lips and no doubt not paying me any attention. I yank her hair, to get her attention, causing her head to jerk back. “Sam.”, she moans, and I pull her face to mine and kiss her even harder. Her arms wrap around my neck and shoulders, and she presses her breasts into mine.
I pull away again, but this time to tell her, “Bedroom, first door on the left.”
Shawna hesitates for only a moment then she shuffles back to my room. I watch her ass bounce and my clit hardens. I need a moment to collect my wits and regain control of the situation. I want to fuck Shawna, but I don’t want to scare her off by treating her the same as I do my average one nighter. I slowly make my way to the room. I get to the threshold and look inside to see Shawna standing on the carpet by my bed, eyes rounded and prodding my own.
“On your knees.” I order, and after biting her lip, she complies.
Shawna slowly sinks to her knees and stares at me, awaiting further command. I walk into the room and past her waiting figure, towards my dresser. There I extract a duffel bag and place it on top of the dresser. Shawna is craning her neck to see what I’m doing and I turn to catch her in the act.
Blushing redder than ever, she turns away, facing the bed again. I walk up behind her and run my hands through her hair. She leans into the touch, but doesn’t turn to look at me. I stop fingering her hair and walk over to the bed. I plop down and pick up the remote. I turn to the news channel, lie down, and proceed to watch today’s headlines.
I watch about ten minutes of the program before Shawna sits back on her heals. I look down at her.
“Got somewhere to be?”
“No.”
“No, Daddy.”
“Umm…”
“I ask you a question and you respond appropriately. I won’t tell you again.”
“Yes, Daddy.” Shawna purrs.
My pussy throbs at her words. “Stand up.”
She obeys, and now my dominance has been established. I command her to turn the television off and she does. Then I instruct her to bring the duffel bag over and place it on the foot of the bed, and she does that also. I sit up on the edge of the bed and summon her to me. She stands between my legs and sighs. I begin to unbutton her shirt very slowly. When her shirt is undone, I leave it on her body. I unzip and peel her skirt off, leaving her underwear on.