THIEF: Part 4 (3 page)

              “Erin,” he says, “I was kidding.”

              I undo his fly and slip my hand into the opening of his boxers.He’s already a little hard, and I feel his cock flinch inside my fingers.

              “You don’t have to do this.We can…we can do stuff later, when you’re feeling better,” he says, but doesn’t move to stop me.

              “I feel fine right now,” I tell him.“Later is when I’ll be sick.Just let me.”

              He does.I start stroking him, one eye on the door just behind my mostly-closed curtain.With every pump, his cock grows fuller.I love feeling it in my hand, knowing how much control I have over him right now.

              “God, Erin,” he sighs, leaning back on his palms, turning towards me and tilting his head back.He shuts his eyes.“That feels so damn good.”

              “Yeah?You like this, baby?”

              He nods, shuddering.“You want to know something?Last night, I couldn’t sleep…so I jacked off over there in the cot, thinking about…”He trails off, blushing.

              I know what he means, but still, I slow down, almost stopping, and decide to tease him.“Say it, Alex.”

              Squirming, hungry for more, he says, “I jacked off thinking about when we...fucked.”He stutters on the word a little bit; I guess he's not used to dirty talk.But I'm going to get him used to it.

              “Tell me more,” I command him.

              Alex thinks a minute, staring at me, trying to find the words I want to hear.“How...incredible it felt, having you—having you ride my...cock like that.”I reward him a little, moving my hand up and down again.He relaxes, braver now.“Feeling your...your pussy come on me.Watching you rub your clit, seeing your tits bouncing while you fucked me…hearing you moan.”

              “Good boy,” I tell him, and pick up my pace.I squeeze a little tighter, stroking him even faster.His breath quickens.I watch a drop of pre-cum form on his tip and take a moment to rub my thumb around in it, massaging the head of his cock.

              “Erin,” he groans, “oh, God…I’m….”

              I go back to stroking his shaft.“Come for me, Alex.”

              His hands grip the blankets; his entire body tenses up.“Erin!” he stammers suddenly, his milk spurting from his cock in a thick, hot stream.I pump every drop out of him.

              “Jesus,” he breathes, falling back on the bed.All at once, he seems to remember where we are.“Sorry, did I hurt your legs?” he asks.He grabs a handful of tissues from the tray by my bed, cleaning up and zipping his pants as fast as he can, one eye on the door.

              “Relax,” I tease him.“You didn’t hurt me at all.And my aunt and Fiona will be on their calls for quite a while.”

              “Well, still,” he says, nodding towards the door, “nurses.”

              “They won’t be back ‘tilmy IV is finished.”

              He pauses, thinking.“So…I’ve got time to make you come.”

              My pussy’s soaking wet, I know that much—watching Alex orgasm probably swelled my clit to twice its size.Still, it’s one thing to give a hand job when you’re sick and feeling unattractive.Getting reciprocation is another matter entirely.

              “You don’t have to, Alex,” I tell him, unsure of what I want his answer to be.“I really don’t feel…fresh.”I hate having to say it, but better now than letting him find out on his own.“Besides, I’ve got a catheter in, remember?”My words make me cringe.

              He ignores me, sitting on the chair beside my bed and slipping his hand under the blanket.My clit is very swollen, easy for him to find, and I let him play with it—rubbing, flicking, gentle pinches.He watches my face the entire time.

              “Your gown’s untied,” he says, pulling the paper down from my neck.I had to take my bra off to wear it, so my nipples are fully exposed—and fully erect.He sucks one into his mouth and begins licking it ravenously.

              “Alex…I’m already so close.”

              “Take your time,” he says, smiling, my nipple still in his mouth.He looks up at me.“You know what else I thought about while jacking off?”

              I shake my head, breathless.

              “Eating you out.”As he says it, he increases his pressure on my clit, then bites my nipple, grinning as I cry out softly with pleasure.“I’ve been kicking myself that I didn’t take the chance earlier.”

              “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

              “You want me to?It could be a surprise.”

              I shake my head.“Tell me now—hearing you describe it will get me off, like…instantly.I know it will.”There’s something about Alex’s good-boy charm, his usually reserved voice saying all those filthy words and details, that makes me uncontrollably horny.

              “All right,” he says, amused.“First…I’d suck on your nipples, like this, to really get you wet.”He demonstrates, taking ample time with each of my nipples, slowing his movements on my clit.“Then I’d kiss my way down your stomach…your hips…and take a minute to just stare at your pussy.Watch your juices flowing out.”

              His finger grazes my clit, just the slightest bit of pleasure alleviating his teasing.I moan, and he continues.

              “Then I’d push three fingers inside of you.”

              “Two,” I correct.For some reason, though I’ve handled some pretty enormous cocks, three fingers have never fit inside me very easily.

              “No,” Alex says, an uncharacteristic authority to his voice.“Three.Just for a little while.Then I’d start to lick and suck on your clit.”He presses down on my clit with his finger, hard, and starts rubbing me again.When I start to moan too loudly, he cups one hand over my mouth to muffle it.

              “Then,” he goes on, “I’d take one finger out of your pussy…and slide it into your tight little asshole.”Suddenly, one of Alex’s fingers is on my asshole.He doesn’t push his way inside, but rubs the sensitive skin of the entrance, in time with his movements on my clit.I feel a deep orgasm mounting, piling on top of the closeness he’s already brought met to.

              “Fuck…Alex,” I groan, raising my lips to meet his touch.“Then what?” I whimper.

              “Then I’d finger-fuck both your holes,” he breathes, “and lick your clit until you came…until both your holes came, right on my fingers.”

              “Oh, God…Alex…yes…”I can’t hold back anymore; his description, coupled with his touch—especially his finger, teasing my tight hole—sends me over the edge.I orgasm so hard, I can’t help but bite his hand a little, to keep myself from screaming.

              “That’s it, baby,” he says knowingly.“That’s it…bite as hard as you need to.”He doesn’t stop rubbing until I stop biting, as I come down from the high, my orgasm complete.When I open my eyes, he’s smiling.

              “Never done that before,” he says.

              “Which part?Touching a girl’s asshole, or giving one an orgasm in a hospital bed?”

              He thinks a minute.“Neither.”

              I laugh, then scoot over a little so he can lie in bed beside me.He gets in on his side, just enough room.

              “You okay?” he asks.“I’m not hurting you, am I?”

              Old sensitive Alex is back.It’s strange, how wildly he transforms between his well-traveled, quiet self and a dirty, adventurous lover—but I like it.A lot.

              “No,” I tell him, snuggling closer.I look at the IV bag; a quarter’s drained, coursing through my bloodstream.Maybe it’s the orgasm, or maybe it’s the medication, but suddenly, I can barely keep my eyes open.

              Before I fall asleep, I look at him.“This is perfect.”

I wake up to Alex tying my gown behind my neck, just as Aunt Jane’s heels start their metronome down the hall.

              “Try to look sick,” he jokes.I attempt a smile, but the nausea really is beginning to set in.
God
, I think,
why now?

              “Get me the bucket,” I tell him.“Hurry.”

              “Nice touch,” he says, still thinking I’m joking.He hands me the pink plastic bucket the nurses gave me, laughably shallow for its intention.

              I try to hold back, but I can’t.As incredible as Alex made me feel only a few minutes ago, that’s how crappy I suddenly feel.I get sick just as Aunt Jane enters.

              “Oh,” she and Alex say at once.She says it with sympathy; he says it with shock.

              “Nurse said it’s normal,” I mutter, refusing to look up from the bucket, even when Alex moves to rub my shoulders.“How’d your catering call go, Aunt Jane?”

              I hear her heels shuffling on the tile.“Oh, that…it was fine.They just had a mix-up with some food, that’s all.”

              “Must have been quite a fight.You were gone for a while.”

              “Well.I made a few other calls.”

              Something in her voice makes me look up.It’s rare when Jane won’t meet your eye, and a dead giveaway she’s hiding something.

              “Jane.”

              “Hmm?”

              “Do you have something to tell me?”

              “No, no, no,” she says, too quickly.Her casual tone sounds forced.“Nothing that can’t wait ‘til you’re feeling better.”

              I take a deep breath, then grab the half-melted cup of ice chips from my tray.Crunching, I set the bucket down and make it a point to stare at her.“There.Better.Now tell me, please—I know you’re up to no good.”

              “Oh, really, Erin.Let your aunt have her secrets.”

              “Nope.Not when they involve me.”

              Jane looks at Alex helplessly, who shrugs, not wanting to get involved.Sighing, she turns back to me.

              “Don’t get angry, okay?”

              Despite my stomach, I sit up straighter.“Not okay.When you tell me not to get angry, I know I’m going to be furious.So spit it out.”

              She sighs again, toying with her cell phone.“I was thinking about what Dr. Brody said, about the best donors being parents and siblings?”

              My eyes narrow at her; I can already feel my pulse quickening with anger.“Yeah…”

              “Don’t be angry,” she reminds me, “but I figured, you know…why not be proactive?I mean, obviously, this treatment’s gonna work.You’ll be healed in no time, sugar.But…just in case…I thought it would be a good idea to try and find him.”

              I shut my eyes, sinking back into the pillows.I don’t need to ask, “Who?” but I do anyway, fooling myself into hoping her answer might just be different.

              Jane laughs nervously.“Who else?”She pauses, until I open my eyes, and says, “Your father.”

              “My father?Aunt Jane, you can’t be serious.”I throw the covers off me, ready to storm out in anger, but we all know how ridiculous this idea is.Alex hides his grin and pulls the blankets back into place.

              “Relax, Erin—I didn’t contact him.That should be up to you, if you want to.I just tracked him down.”She hands me a piece of paper.“If you’re interested.Donation or not, I figured…maybe you’d like to meet him.”

              Without unfolding it, I set the paper on my tray.“What do you mean, you tracked him down?Mom didn’t even know who he was.”She just gives me a pitying expression.“Oh, my God.Of course she knew.”

              “Of course,” Jane echoes softly, picking at her cuticles.“I’m sorry, Erin.I wanted to tell you years and years ago, when you started asking your mama all those questions about him.She didn’t want him in your life, so she lied.”

              “Why, though?”I chew on more ice, fighting the nausea as best I can.“Why didn’t she want him in my life?”

              “Well, best I can figure, because she didn’t want him back in
her
life.And letting you get to know him, well…that would’ve required her talking to him.At least a little.”

              “Jesus.”

              “I’m sorry,” she says again.

              The room falls silent.Alex shifts his weight around, more uncomfortable than ever.Aunt Jane keeps staring at her nails, my bed railing, the floor—anywhere but my face.

              “He lives in Tennessee,” she adds.“Works at an insurance company.All I knew was his name, but I’m pretty sure this guy—the one I found—is the right one.Friend of mine dug him up for me.”

              “I can’t believe this.”I grab the bucket again, sure I’m going to be sick from anger, if not the medicine.“Mom lied just because she didn't want to see him.She never even gave me the choice.I deserved that much.”

              “You did,” she agrees.“You do.”

              “You know what really pisses me off, though?”I wait until she looks up.“That
you
lied.You didn’t say anything—you let Mom lie to me.And that’s worse, Aunt Jane.I learned to expect this kind of thing from her.Not you.”Tears sting my eyes, suddenly.I close my eyes again, sighing like I’m exhausted, to hide it.

              Jane doesn’t hide her tears, though; she never does.I doubt she can.“I should have told you,” she says, “and I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for letting her lie to you like that.”I hear her heels click towards me.She holds my hand, the giant diamond of her ring pressed into my skin.“You don’t have to forgive me, sweetheart.I don’t expect you to.But I just want to say…I’m trying.I’m trying to fix it.Maybe it’s too late, and if it is, I’m sorry for that, too.”

              I throw my arm over my eyes.Aunt Jane has seen me cry a million times, but I’m not about to let her see this.

              “Well,” she continues, letting go, “like I said, figured it’d be good to know where he was at least, if it comes to that.And whether you need a new kidney or not, maybe you’d want to know who he was.Is.”She heads for the door, but pauses.“That is something to think about, Erin: he’s still here.I’m sure there’s a lot of things you wished you could’ve said to your mom, or asked her, before she died, and you can’t now, because she’s gone…but your daddy’s not.”

              There’s another long silence, and then, slowly, I hear the door swish open, then click shut.Her heels clack down the hall, but this time, they aren’t a steady, sure rhythm.The steps start and stop, as though every few feet, she thinks about turning back.But then she keeps going.

              I open my eyes when the footsteps fade to nothing.Blinking tears away, I look at Alex.

              “A lot of shitty things do happen to me.”

              He nods gravely.“But maybe this isn’t one of them.”

              “What?”

              Alex clears his throat nervously, but his words are sure.“Remember what I said, about some obstacles really being opportunities?Maybe this,” he says, gesturing towards the piece of paper on my tray, “is one of those things.”

              “Right.”I sit back up.“My mom lied to me, Alex.All because she didn’t want to talk to her ex.She treated him just like all her other exes, cutting them out when they pissed her off, no problem.But my dad wasn’t one of them.At least…not to me.”Before I can start crying again, I summon more anger.“And then, Jane—the one adult I’ve always trusted, the only person I thought was always there for me—lets her get away with it.”

              “I’m not saying you shouldn’t be mad,” he explains.“I’m just saying…your aunt has a point.She knows what she did was wrong.And she’s hurt that it hurt you.But she is trying to fix it.”

              “She only tracked him down so I’d have a donor back-up,” I snap.

              “Is that so bad?Who cares what her reasons were—she wants you to live, Erin.She loves you.”He scratches the back of his head, thinking.“Granted, I don’t have experience in this area.My parents are still alive, still married.Typical suburban home.But if it turned out my dad wasn’t my dad or something…I’d want to get to know the real one.”

              “This is different.I’m not even sure he wants to meet me.Hell, I’m not even sure he knows I exist.”

              “Then let him know.”

              I shake my head.“You don’t understand, Alex.”

              “I’m not pretending I do.”

              “Then butt out.”I catch myself.“Sorry.”

              “Look,” he says, going to the window as a glare of sunlight starts creeping across my face.He shuts the blinds, then turns and leans against the sill.“Let’s put a pin in it.I’ll support your choice, no matter what it is, whether it changes later on or not.But keep that piece of paper.Can you at least promise to do that?”

              I look at the paper.Just a small page, torn out of Jane’s day planner.It should be an easy promise to keep.“Yes,” I tell him, “I’ll hang on to it.”

              He smiles, placated, and heads for the door.“Let me get you some more ice.”

             
Keep the paper
.It’s just a scrap with a name and number.I can stick it in a drawer and forget about it forever.Same as always.

              But then I make my mistake: I open it.

              BENJAMIN BRINSLEY.COLLIERVILLE INSURANCE.TENNESSEE.

              My heart hammers, reading it.I read it again and again.I think of my pickpocketing days—how I’d steal a wallet, take the money, and turn it into a lost-and-found somewhere nearby, never risking a glance at the ID.Because once you see a name, your mark becomes a person.

              Just like that, this scrap of paper becomes a lifeline to my dad—a man I’ve always wondered about, the missing half of what I came from, one of a handful of blood ties I’ve got left on this earth.

              Just like that, my easy promise becomes a burden, one I can’t ignore or break.No matter how hard I try to crumple it up, or at least shove it back onto the tray, I can’t stop looking at his name.

“Everything’s looking great, Erin.Honestly—not to get ahead of myself, here—I think you might recover in just a few weeks.”Dr. Brody’s smile is the most genuine I’ve seen.I’m sure part of it is the positive prognosis, but I bet a good portion is due to the fact I’ve stopped being such a bitch the last few weeks.

              “Like…New Year’s?” I ask hopefully, thinking of Aunt Jane’s wedding.I’ve barely spoken to her since she spilled the beans about my father, but I haven’t isolated her completely.Just enough to let her know I’m still pissed.Forgiveness will happen…just, not yet.

              “It’s possible.Maybe January.We don’t officially call you ‘cured’ until your medication’s done and your immune system seems stabilized on its own.”He pauses.“Basically, it’s kind of trial-and-error.”

              “And…what if I’m not cured?”

              “Another round of medication, maybe another plasma transfer.Your kidney function is almost completely normal again, though, and your lungs look perfect.Looks like we caught the syndrome at the earliest possible time.”

              I smile at Alex, who’s squeezing my hand in the chair next to mine.His leg bounces with pent-up energy; this is exactly what we were hoping for today.

              “Will you stop?” he’d asked me at breakfast, after I’d finished grumbling about all the things that could go wrong, yet again.

              “I can’t help it.”

              “Yes, you can.”He measured my cereal exactly, then the milk, and handed me the bowl before liberally pouring his own.I had to admit, it was reassuring having him around to take care of me during my treatment; all the little things, like measuring food and liquid intake, making sure I didn’t retain too much water or eat too much sodium, would’ve been impossible for me to do alone while medicated.The only other option would have been Aunt Jane, moving in for the duration—and my sanity taking a vacation.

              Alex chewed for a moment, then added, “Negative thinking is a habit.And just like every other habit, you have to break it, then replace it with something constructive.”

              A bitchy comment formed in my mouth, but I took a bite of cereal, paused, then chose a jokey tone instead.“You’re an expert, I suppose?”

              “As a matter of fact,” he said, with false arrogance, “I am.I gave up smoking cigarettes cold-turkey, the fall after I traveled Europe.”

              “Ooh, la-la.”

              “Make fun all you want.It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, but I did it.”

              “Really.”

              “Yep.Every morning, when I craved a cigarette the most, I’d tell myself, ‘You don’t need to smoke to start your day.You can get that rush from something else.’”

              “Espresso?”

              “Running.I’d wake up, get a craving, then tell myself I didn’t need it—and I’d put on my sneakers instead.Take a lap around my building, or through the park.”

              “Okay, well—I can’t run right now.”

              “No, that’s not the point.”He shook his head, taking another bite.“Running gave me a rush, to replace the one I missed from cigarettes.Negative thinking gives you something, too—you just need to find out what, then replace it with something that gives you thatsame thing.Something better.”

              “Negative thinking, as you like to call it, is just me facing facts.Being realistic.”

              He drummed his fingers on the dining table, thinking.“Okay, then.That’s what it is—you don’t want to get your hopes up and be let down.You want nothing but the facts.Real, solid info.That comforts you.”

              “What is this, Psych 101?”

              “So,” he continued, ignoring me, “we just need to find something that gives you that comfort, without making you think the worst.”

              “Why?”

              “Because it’s unhealthy,” he said, like I should’ve already known that.“Negative thinking’s been scientifically proven to worsen health problems.”

              I sighed, finally giving up.“Let’s find a replacement then.”

              “Already got one: research.”

              I just stared at him.“Research.That’s your answer.”

              He spread his hands.“Why not?It gives you those real facts you need—no sugarcoating, no bullshit—and comforts you, because when you have all the answers, things aren’t so scary anymore.”Alex took a sip of coffee, clearly pleased with his plan.“And to stop the negative thinking pattern, try a mantra, like I did.Every time you catch yourself thinking the worst, think something like, ‘No, I’m not going to think like this anymore.I’ve done my research; I know the facts.’”

              “Thought that was what I
was
doing,” I muttered, fishing for my last bits of cereal in the bowl.

              “And I thought cigarettes weren’t affecting me,” he says, “until one day, I couldn’t finish this hike in Switzerland that I’d done, like, a million times.My lungs sounded like rusty boat motors.”He took my hands across the table, gently massaging my palms with his thumbs.“Just give it a shot, Erin.You’re going to get good news today, anyway—I can feel it.”

              I didn’t tell him what I was thinking: that any news I got was rarely good, and that I expected bad things to happen to me so often…because they did.After all, some people are born lucky—Alex undoubtedly being one of them—and that meant, in the end, some people had to be born unlucky.Yin and yang.

              Now, though, when Dr. Brody tells me my last round of medication will be the second week in December, before we play the waiting game, I stop my automatic thoughts:
I still won’t look healthy in time for Aunt Jane’s wedding.Maybe I’m not cured; it could come back, after all that.What if I need a donor?

             
What if I die?

              I take a deep breath as we shake Dr. Brody’s hand, grab our coats, and head for the parking deck.
Stop
, I tell myself.
Don’t think like that.It doesn’t help anything, and it’s all actually pretty unlikely.