Sex and Death in the American Novel (15 page)

A small gasp came from behind me and Jasper worked his hands around my hips. He worked quickly, opening me and easing me backward onto him. The sound he made sent tingles through my limbs, but I didn't want it to end too soon either. I pulled forward so that only half of him was inside, before his hands tightened and pulled me back. He worked slowly, easing in, holding himself there, then pulling himself out, all the while keeping a tight grip on my hips.

Laura's eyes glowed. She watched and ran her hands up into my hair, traced my hairline and the outline of my ear, then lay her head sideways and let her mouth fall open. As I lapped at the tiny nub, it grew and pulsed against the tip of my tongue, and her hips moved up to push farther toward me. I placed my hand along the top of her outer lips, slowing her down, wanting to keep the tight feeling of anticipation building, relishing the feeling of Jasper inside me.

I tightened the muscles inside and was rewarded with a deep groan and an abrupt thrust, and I ground myself down to move him deeper. Laura's hands in my hair, tracing the line of my jaw brought me back to the task before me. Her touch was gentle, though she exerted enough pressure to let me know there was some urgency in the task.

I bent back to her, used one hand to open her lips, and slid my tongue up the slit inside. Japer leaned over, and molded his stomach and torso to my back, resting his head on my shoulder, watching me, stroking my breast gently with one hand, while the other held me firmly to him. His thrusts were shorter, deeper. He was wonderfully aware of the nuances of the situation, and slowed down to accommodate them.

Laura opened herself wider, and I used my fingers to trace the outer edges of her inner labia, then with lips slick with her buttery juices, I formed my mouth over the thrumming nub. She closed her legs around my head for a moment. “Yes, like that,” she said.

I continued my work, enjoying the slick texture of her beneath my fingertips, her taste, like warm butter and cinnamon, until she began to go stiff, the muscles in her thighs standing out, fully formed, the muscles of her abdomen contracted until I could count every ridge.

“She's ready,” Jasper breathed past my ear. The anticipation, anxiety, and fear in his tone made me wet.

I arched my back to feel more of him, rising toward him until I felt his lips rest on my ear, with one hand on my shoulder, coming around to my neck, then his thrusts became more urgent. I looked down to Laura's body before me, primed and taut, inviting in the reward I knew was close. I bent back to her. Every delicate part was so large now the tip of my tongue sank in as if into the center of a hardened marshmallow, so slick and sweet it had become.

“God,” she said, twisting her head then moving her hips higher, as if she could turn in towards herself. She arched her back, but I did not stop, felt her grow moist, like summer rain just beginning to mist the morning grass, and my face became damp.

Jasper let out a breath. When he came he let out a soft sound. His hands opened and closed at my sides, squeezing me and letting me go until the thrusts became short stabs and he laid the side of his face on my back. I kept my mouth on her, moving my tongue as I had before, planting myself with my other hand so Jasper's movement's wouldn't rock me too far forward, causing her to lose the last bits of her pleasure.

Laura rolled to the side and gazed down at me. “Come up here,” she said, and Jasper pulled back, allowing her to pull me to her. She stroked me deftly from the top of my head to my hip with one hand. Laura looked past me to where I could feel Jasper waiting behind me.

“She does good work doesn't she?” she asked him.

His answer was something I couldn't see. Then his hand went to my throat, working in time with her hands, they covered each inch of me. He leaned over to look down on me, locking eyes, stroking my throat with his knuckles, as he trailed his soft hands along my brow so that I closed my
eyes, taking in only sensation and their different scents. He still smelled faintly of his woody cologne, and the last residue of the club smell. His breath came close to my face, I turned away again, unwilling to kiss him, loving the thrill this withholding gave me. Laura's hands opened me. I looked down to see her between my legs, up on her elbows. Her hair was slicked back, dry now on the ends, and her cheeks were red like she'd been outside in the snow. Jasper's hands ran through my hair, stroking my face, sending surges of warm pleasure to every limb.

Laura dipped her head in at last, and, as I'd been in such a constant state of excitement for so long, her efforts soon resulted in my own ragged breathing and the sense of urgency that came with it. Her lips, full and soft as they were brushing against the insides of my lips, made me want more, scooting down inches so I could be closer to her. She wrapped her arms under me, around my hips, and let her fingers dance over my sides and stomach in soft movements, which matched the pressure of her tongue and lips. Just as she had done before, I turned my head to one side, felt my body grown taut, and raised my hips to get closer to her.

A soft chuckle came from her and she looked up, eyes moving from me, a slow smile, then to Jasper who was beside me. Jasper leaned toward my ear and said, “She's close.” The memory of what that looked like when Laura lay before me, sent me over. Liquid hot pools of pleasure swirled first where she licked me, burst through my legs, making them heavy and full, to my stomach, then my arms until I saw stars. Jasper pressed his moist lips to the spot behind my ear, holding me close to his head, the rustling of his hair in my ear filled me with a deep longing and different need separate from the pleasure that was already draining away. Laura moved up my body and kissed me gently on the mouth, before moving off. I lay pinned to the bed, like Caligula after a wedding, too weak and sated to move.

Jasper placed his hands under my arms, lifting me farther onto the bed, then he lay down beside me, warming me entirely with his slender form. I reached out to Laura, who turned to me and placed her hand on my face, slid her hand down my cheek, then rolled over and hopped out of bed. Her barely lit form moved through the room, all hard angles and firm lines. She bent over to root through a pile of clothes on the floor before sticking her finger in the air and heading to the bathroom. She came back in her robe, opened a drawer, pulled out a pair of panties and worked these on underneath.

With a flourish, leaning over and circling her hand in the air she turned, moved the chair away from the door, unlocked it, and opening the door only enough to let herself out, she closed it again. The floor to ceiling windows in the bedroom shone through with twinkling lights. I could make out the buildings as separate distinct darker shapes from the deep indigo of
the night sky. In between the buildings on one side poked the dark hulk of Mount Rainier under the moon.

Jasper's shape molded beside me, warm, slick with sweat. I'd had other arms around me before, thicker arms, shorter arms, but none held the same all-encompassing warmth that his did. We dozed for some time when I woke to feel his hands exploring again, his palm flat against my skin, moving down the side of my leg, across my ass, stopping to grip and squeeze lightly.

He must have sensed that I was awake, because he moved me onto my back, and continued to stroke my front, avoiding the area between my thighs. Images of all the ways this could go flashed through my mind while his eyes, two glimmering points, shone in the dim light. I pushed up on my elbows, leaned over the bed and felt around for his pants. I was relieved to find Laura had slipped two into his pocket.

I pushed him back, and moved one leg over him so that I was on top. His hands reached out to stroke the flesh of my thighs and hold me by the waist. His eyes landed on my nipples, moved to the hollow of my neck. So he could examine everything, I swept my hair over one shoulder and turned my attention to where his enormous new limb stood inches from its goal.

“Your cock is a goddam work of art.” I stroked him with light fingers, lingering over the silky folds circling the bulb at the end.

He answered with a desperate look and thumped it against my hand.

I moved to put it right up to the opening of my lips and then sat back. “See these veins here?” He nodded. I ran my finger over a long trailing purple one that went all along the underside and snaked around to pulse at the top. “And this one, the way it goes from here, to here?” I stopped stroking. “Have you ever measured it? You should have it measured… definitely.”

He stared with wide eyes and gave an uncertain laugh.

I worked the thin latex over him, wrinkling my nose at the harsh scent.

I slipped him inside with one smooth movement. When I rose up again he said, “Don't stop doing that.”

I planted my hands on his chest, thrilling at the flexed muscles beneath my hands. His face changed from tension to softness every time I slid down as if he thought I would move away every time I rose up too high.

His grip tightened around my waist, his face changed to one of sincere concentration, his mouth turned down, tight, his nostrils flaring. At one point he closed his eyes, breathing through his nose, letting breath out his partly opened lips. I reached out and ran my forefinger over his lower lip, pulling it down, opening his mouth wider, to an oval. The dark stubble that had grown since earlier in the night set off his mouth. Perfection.

I placed my hands on his hips and lifted myself up, easing down onto him again, slowing down my own pleasure, making him wait with me. I
squeezed the tip of him with the muscles inside, loving the way his eyes popped open when I did that.

I stroked the hair at his temple and he said, “Do that again?”

“If you say it like that I'll do it all night.” I rose up, squeezed him and slid down, inciting a satisfactory noise from deep in his throat. “I'd do anything, just don't stop using that tone.”

“No problem.” A soft genuine smile took over his whole face. His eyes locked on the area where our bodies joined, and the look of fascination on his face made me giddy. Moments later, he got quiet, and his face showed a vulnerable open patience. I simply wanted to hold him inside. I lowered my chest to him until we were skin to skin, and worked my hips back and forth, moving my face farther into the damp space behind his ear. I imagined working myself into the cave of his secret place, a wonderful place where things didn't have to be light or loud to be happy. His arms came around me, tight, so that it was work to leverage my hips against him, but the struggle made it all the more exciting.

“Amazing,” he whispered in my ear, and flipped my hair back, running the tip of his nose and lips along my neck. “How totally,” he paused, our bodies working together, “unexpected.”

I continued to nuzzle and grind. After a few more moments, I pulled back; he ran his hand over my face, and pulled me down so that our foreheads touched and our breath came together. He quickened his pace and I felt the core of heavy sensation unwinding where I held him. I let myself go, opening myself to take all of him, and I became full in the space between my stomach and heart, my chest tightening as it filled, stretched—changing me. I took a deep breath, he smiled and his eyes got soft and he moved his hands to hold me by the shoulders.

In one moment we were working together, filling each other up; the next moment, he was holding my head with his hands, gasping, and I felt my lower half go thick with pleasure. From my position I felt every throbbing pulse as he came, my own involuntary spasms locking us tightly together. I continued to grind and tighten my grip, his gasps as I did giving me short thrilling bursts of satisfaction.

After a time, he stirred beneath me, and I reluctantly allowed him to slip from my body. I moved under the comforter and crawled inside. He slipped in beside me and we slept as before, tightly bound together, until I heard the door close twice out in the other room and saw that the light outside was turning from gray to pink, the deep darkness behind the buildings receding before the arrival of the new day.

Jasper lay with his arms stretched out. I must have moved to the edge and curled into a tight ball. I eased myself out of bed, careful to keep the comforter held down so the cold air wouldn't wake him. This wasn't something I was
especially eager to slip away from, but my head throbbed and my stomach threatened to act on its own, so it seemed like the thing to do to move and take stock alone.

As I padded to the bathroom, I stopped in the doorway and watched him sleep from the same place he'd hovered from earlier. Usually a night like this filled me with an urgent need to leave. In the morning they never measured up to the hopes I had for them just hours before. This time the hollow regret wasn't there, only a fearful longing. He moved one hand to his chest and I could make out the bones of his collar.

In less than two days I'd pulled my brother's idol down from his tower and dragged him through the brightly colored hallways of my debauched life, and had a grand time doing it. Now what was I going to do with him? I remembered how his face looked so close, his eyes held an intense understanding, curiosity and trust. What would I see when I saw him next?

P
ART
II.

It may be us they wish to meet but it's themselves they want to talk about.

—Cyril Connolly

Chapter 8

After Jasper, I found myself watching people in a different way. I was at the corner of Broadway and Pike on Capitol Hill, not far from Neighbours, though the place felt completely different in the daytime. A tall black guy and a tiny brunette chatted as they crossed the street. One of his long arms reached out in the air as if to shield her from the oncoming traffic. She spoke in short bursts, taking quick peeks up at his face whenever she stopped to take a breath, like she was gauging whether or not he was really paying attention. His eyes never wandered from her. My heart thumped, and I felt this whole woozy feeling in my stomach where usually there was a knot of nervous dread. Then the commentary in my head started up…
I give it two weeks before he starts cheating on her, or she gets clingy and he has to break it off.
Still the knot of dread hadn't settled in. Odd. The next thought was really wonderful…
who cares?
There was nothing, absolutely nothing like the rush of meeting, liking, and getting to know a new person. Nothing. That moment for those two kids was something they will likely remember in some way forever.