Chapter Thirty-Two
Helene
“So, Helene, how is the dissertation coming along?”
I’d barely taken my coat off after entering the same damn seafood restaurant I’d run into Kane and his married girlfriend at weeks before, and here was Dr. Melbourne, head of the liberal arts department at Penn State Hazleton, grilling me on the bane of my very existence.
I laughed nervously for a moment as I handed my coat to the hostess. “It’s … uh … going.” I smiled.
He chuckled. “Come on, Helene. I think they’ve got the entire back half of the restaurant cordoned off for this dinner.”
As we walked, Dr. Melbourne leaned toward me. “Have you thought any more about Penn State’s post-doctoral fellowship program, Helene? I know you weren’t sure you intended to stay in Hazleton permanently after the completion of your doctorate, but Penn State allows you to work through the program even from our smaller satellite campuses… And I have to say, I absolutely love the idea of a local coming home after such an accomplishment. I just hope you’ll consider Penn State a more permanent home—”
“I have … actually.” I glanced at Dr. Melbourne. “And … I’m interested. I’m very interested. Things have…” I bobbled my head from side to side for a moment. “…changed for me, and I want to consider planting more permanent roots here.”
Dr. Melbourne’s smile broadened. “That’s wonderful news, Helene. The post-doc program is three years, and I could see you becoming tenured quickly at Penn State, what with your long history and good standing in the community.”
I nodded. “Well if it’s all the same to you, I’ll focus my energies on my dissertation for the time being, but … I really do want to talk about this further when the time is right.”
“I look forward to it.” He held his hand out as we reached the large back section of the restaurant where rows of tables were set up.
I ended up sitting with Dr. Melbourne, largely because I knew very few people there. I was, after all, only an assistant professor and on a very limited schedule at that. The dinner was delicious, the conversation was stuffy, and the man sitting across from me and a few seats down seemed intent on making eye contact with me every chance he got.
He was handsome. He was also clearly intelligent, given the way he thoroughly seemed to enjoy debating politics with a professor of political science. Come to find out he was in the mathematics department.
“Professor Dale came from the University of Pennsylvania too, Helene,” Dr. Melbourne announced loud enough for the good Professor Dale to hear. “Youngest tenured professor at Penn State, and I have to say we love stealing talent from the University of Pennsylvania.”
The table, including me, laughed at that one.
“How young were you again when you graduated high school, Preston?” Dr. Melbourne asked him.
Professor Dale glanced at me, smiling politely. “Uh… sixteen.” He cringed. “Trust me, the achievement made me the world’s biggest nerd,” he said as he winked at me.
“Helene’s on task to finish her dissertation this spring from the University of Pennsylvania.” Apparently Dr. Melbourne was just in the announcing sort of mood.
“Is that so?” Professor Dale asked.
“God willing.” I tried to smile, but I glanced away quickly.
“Philosophy is it?”
I glanced back up to Professor Dale as I took a drink of my water. “Yes.”
“Well, I hope to see you around on a more permanent basis.” He lifted his wine glass and nodded his head.
“Well, yes, I certainly hope to see that, too,” Dr. Melbourne concurred.
I just nodded stupidly, wondering how the hell I was going to pull a dissertation out of my ass that would actually garner myself the doctorate these men apparently seemed to think was in the bag. Nothing much felt in the bag to me at the moment.
I excused myself as soon after the meal as was politely possible, and I nodded my goodnights and lifted my hand as I said goodbye. Dr. Melbourne stood and gave me a hug. He was a kind, older man, and the idea of working for him one day wasn’t at all an unpleasant thought.
As I stood at the front greeting station waiting for the hostess to return with my coat, Preston Dale approached me. I smiled at him as he leaned against the tall table.
“I wonder if you’d like to go out for dinner sometime.” He cocked his head to the side in a very assured and casual manner.
I glanced at him. “Oh… I’m flattered. Thank you, but I’m actually seeing someone.”
He nodded slowly, shrugging his shoulders good naturedly. “Well if that changes in the future, I hope you’ll let me know.” He smiled. “You know where to find me.” He was silent for a moment. “It really was very good to meet you, Helene.” He held his hand out, and I shook it just as the woman returned with my coat.
I really was flattered in all truth, but the whole evening had done nothing but made me miss the other part of my life. The other part, also known as Kane, would likely spend a meal like that rolling his eyes now just as much as he would have when we were younger. He’d never cared for formality, pomp and circumstance, or the airs people put on. In fact, he detested it. Odd, I often exhibited those very traits, and yet, he seemed very fond of me.
Yes, I missed Kane by the time Preston was helping me into my coat. I smiled at Preston one last time as I walked out, and I was pulling into my driveway ten minutes later. When I made it inside, I wandered to my bedroom. My nightstand drawer was still slightly ajar, and when I sank down to the side of the bed, I looked into it.
I picked up the anal plug, and then I dropped back to lay across the bed, holding the thing in front of my face. At its widest it was thicker than Kane’s finger. It had to hurt. Didn’t it? Kane’s finger hadn’t hurt, but it had felt … strange. Not at all a bad strange, just … new. But this…?
“Well that can’t possibly feel good,” I said to absolutely no one at all. But the flush that ran over my skin challenged my assertion. I hummed in contemplation as I continued to turn the plug over in my hand.
The surface was smooth and shiny and I could damn near see my reflection in it. After staring at it for a few minutes and listening to the silence that surrounded me, I sat up.
“Okay, then…” I again said to no one.
I stood, marched out to the entryway, shrugged back into my coat, and pocketed the thing as I grabbed my keys.
By the time I pulled into Kane’s dad’s driveway, I finally knew exactly what the phrase “hot and bothered” actually meant. I was definitely hot. I was definitely bothered. The good kind of bothered. My skin was still prickling, and my mind was giving me very vivid images of how this might play out.
I held the plug out in front of me in the palm of my hand as I knocked on the door with my free hand. I was intending to be cheeky—this was a rare thing for me. But my heart was pounding, and my palm was sweating even as the cool air touched it. I was also wet as hell.
When the door was pulled open, my heart stopped. “Whoa! Oh, shit…” I said as I closed my fingers over the plug.
Shawn looked down, narrowly missing a glimpse of what I held in my hand. “What are you doing here?” Shawn asked as his eyes returned to my face and he scowled.
Kane walked up behind him, smiling when he saw me. I was too busy panicking and trying desperately to find the pocket on my coat so I could hide what I was doing there. Kane’s eyes traveled down to my hands as I fought with my coat, and he cocked his head to the side in question.
“Uh… Just… Nothing…” I said as I shook my head, finally finding the opening of my pocket and dropping the plug inside.
“I ain’t happy you made him stop drinking. Just so’s you know.”
“Hey,” Kane snapped at Shawn as he stepped past him. “I made that choice on my own.” He glared at Shawn over his shoulder for a second. When he looked down at me, he smiled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” I said sheepishly.
He cocked his head to the side as his brow furrowed. When his hand fished for the same pocket opening I’d been fighting with, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “We were just getting ready to lay the floor tile in the bath—”
And then his hand stopped moving. He’d clearly found the plug. I grimaced, glancing up at him and shaking my head. He stared down at me, and his nostrils flared as he exhaled, the tendons in his neck suddenly tight.
“Hey, can we get back—”
“Get out,” Kane cut Shawn off, his voice blunt.
“What? We have to—”
“Nope,” Kane said quickly. “Get out. Now. We’re done for the night.”
“What the fuck, asshole.” Shawn barked at him, his face scrunched up in anger.
“I need you to leave now. Helene and I have to … do something … important.”
“Ah, fuck! Can’t believe you’re ditching me for her now just like you did in high school. You ever gonna grow some balls, you pussy whipped bitch?” Shawn threw his hands up in the air.
I remembered this about Shawn. He had a foul mouth, and not in the good way like Kane. He was also not above calling a man he considered his friend things like, “Asshole” or “Pussy whipped bitch.” I did not like this man.
When Kane reached back and tried to tug Shawn out the door, Shawn shook it off.
“My truck’s out back, dick,” he muttered. He turned his scowl on me then, before stalking back through the house and hollering over his shoulder, “I just opened my fucking beer.”
The back door slammed shut, and Kane pulled me inside, shut the door, and pushed me up against it. His hands clutched at my cheeks desperately, and his lips were on mine as his groin pressed against me. He was moaning against my lips, and my skin was on fire.
“I don’t have a bed,” he said between kisses. “The room’s cleared out so I can start on flooring in that…” He kissed me again. “…part of the house.” His voice was breathless. “I have…” His eyes moved around the room, looking behind him as he searched. “…a table.” He kissed some more. “Fuck, you look beautiful.”
I was still wearing the fitted black dress I’d been in all evening. It skimmed my curves as it dropped to just above my knees, and I was wearing the same black heels with the ankle straps I’d had on the night before. Kane’s hands were inside my coat, running over my hips to my bottom, and as his lips met mine again, he squeezed my ass and groaned. He reached in the pocket of the coat again, pulling the anal plug out, and the moment his hand was free, he pushed the coat off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind me.
He pulled me toward the kitchen, tugging me along behind him, and when we entered, I looked around. The cupboards were in. They looked amazing, even though the countertops were missing. He caught me looking, and he smirked.
“Stay here.” He disappeared out of the room, and it was less than thirty seconds later when he reappeared with a small bottle in his hand.
“The cupboards look amazing,” I said nervously as I looked around. I was fidgeting, twisting my fingers together anxiously.
“You look amazing.” His eyes moved over me. “And those fucking shoes again.” He smirked. “Turn toward the table.”
I took a deep breath as I moved. The table was littered with supplies—paint rollers, paint pans, scrapers, paint cans, masking tape. When Kane stepped beside me he set the small bottle of lubricant on the table next to me as well as the plug, setting it on the flattened end. My legs trembled as his fingers toyed with the bottom hem of my dress, inching it slowly up my thighs. His body crowded mine, and his breath touched the back of my ear. The skirt was tight, and by the time he got it to my waist, it was bunched up constrictively around my midsection. Kane’s hands gripped my bottom for a moment before he slid my skimpy satiny underwear down, letting them drop around my ankles.
“Are you going to let me fuck you once this is in?”
I craned my head over my shoulder to look at him. “Yes. I think so.”
He smiled gently, and he leaned to my cheek, kissing me. “Bend over, close your eyes, and relax.”
That last part was almost laughable if my throat were actually loose enough to laugh. As it was, I could barely swallow. I rested my forearms to the dusty surface, covering my black dress with a skim of chalky grit. I closed my eyes, and I let my forehead fall to my hands that were clasped tightly together.
When I heard the cap of the lubricant pop open, I tensed, and when I felt his fingers pressing between my cheeks, I cried out quietly. He stroked over that place with his finger, pressing the tip in just slightly. And when the tip of his finger was replaced with the cold hard tip of the plug, I cried out even louder. It wasn’t pain, though. I was just wired and ready to snap.
He thrust, moving marginally deeper with every shallow penetration, and when the flange shaped plug widened to what had to be larger than his finger, I groaned. It ached, it stretched … it also felt cool and soothing. He pushed slowly, letting the diameter of it stretch me more, and for a moment I thought about chickening out, but then the widest part passed beyond my tightness, and it was comfortable again. I could feel a fullness, but the stretching was gone.
“Such a pretty sight. You have the most incredible ass. Even Shawn says so.”
I groaned as I craned my neck around to see him. “Please don’t say that name right now.”
He chuckled even as I watched him undo the button of his jeans and lower the zipper. His eyes were heady as they focused on my face, and when he pushed the waist of his underwear down just enough to free his cock, it was large and hard, standing erect from his body. He tucked the waist of his underwear under his balls. He then picked up a clean white rag from the table near me, wiping the rest of the glistening lubricant from his fingers, and then he stroked over the length of his cock as he smirked.
“Spread your legs a little farther.” He moved behind me, and I stepped my feet out as much as I could with my ankles still wound up in my underwear. When he crouched behind me, he gripped the fronts of my shins. And then I felt his tongue, his whiskers, his lips, his chin all pressing hard against the slit of my sex. He moaned as he slurped against my skin, and his hands on my shins started moving up.
I wanted to come. I needed to come, but much like the night before, he pulled back when my legs shook and my body got close. He stood up, and then I felt him press the head of his cock between the wet lips of my sex. It felt different as he pushed, more restricted and tighter, but he nudged insistently until he slid in. I could feel the plug moving, and it tickled and ached at the same time as it innervated that other sheath.
“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as he pushed slowly in, and then he pulled all the way out. “That feels so fucking good.” He breathed out the words, and then he was nudging again, passing tightly within me as the metal tickled once more. He thrust, slow at first, but with every cycle of the push and pull, faster, deeper, harder.
His breathing sped as his hips did too, and when he leaned over my body, he came down on his elbow beside me, his lips at my ear.
“How does it feel?” He asked as a rush of breath touched my ear. He was panting quietly as his hips worked and his cock plunged.
“Strange… Weird…” My voice was breathed out too.
He laughed, but it caught in his throat. “You keep saying things like ‘strange’ and ‘weird’ and … I’m not altogether sure that’s … a good response.” His voice kept lurching as he fucked me.
“It’s good. It’s just…”
He laughed again. “Strange?”
“Yeah…” I reached down, stroking my finger over my clit and letting the forward jolt of my body as he thrust push me harder into my touch. I groaned and tightened, and it sent an ache through my bottom that bordered on pain.
“Oh, fuck, that feels so tight. Tell me how it feels now?”
I closed my eyes, forcing my muscles to loosen around the plug. “I feel it moving.”
He groaned again. “So do I…” he whispered.
His jolts became more pronounced, and his hand crept up my back to my neck, pulling my zipper down moments before I felt his lips on my spine. He kissed as his hips rocked, and he pushed his hand through my hair at the nape of my neck. His fingers tangled as he pinned my head down to the hard surface of the table. His breaths were coming fast, ragged, and desperate against my back, and his hips were slamming into me.
I felt full, too full, perfectly full and aching, and I kept my eyes closed, listening to his quiet breaths and feeling them along my back as he tried to kiss and grunt at the same time. Every jolt of his hips grinded my pussy against my fingers, and I gasped and grunted just like him until one deep penetration pushed my clit so hard into my fingers that I came, crying out loudly. It wasn’t two more thrusts before he stilled within me, his fingers tightening on my hair as he held me down. His sound was low and growling, and I could feel his stomach muscles clenching and releasing against my back as he orgasmed.
He stood up straight, finally releasing my hair, and I felt him pressing on the flat end of the plug even as he still remained inside me. He hummed when he turned it gently, and he pulled on it slowly. At first my muscles flinched and tried to hold onto it, but then he tugged again, and I groaned as that entry dilated just enough to release it. I cried out quietly, and he cursed.
He set the plug on the tabletop before his finger stroked gently over my anus, not penetrating, just grazing and massaging. His hips moved as he touched, and he rocked in and out of me gently as his finger still rubbed and soothed. He finally pulled slowly from me, and he collapsed onto the nearby folding chair. I stood up, stretching the kinks out of my back, and he chuckled. I leaned down, slipping the underwear past my high heels, and then I walked to him. He pulled me down to straddle him, and he clutched my hips in his hands.
I took a deep breath as I studied his eyes. “Not for nothing, but you did have me pretty good and pinned down there, ya know?” I smirked at him. “Miraculously, I survived. Hell, I even liked it very much.” I winked at him.
“Yeah? Well not for nothing, but I didn’t have to look down and see your eyes staring up at me.”
I froze, and his face fell instantly. He opened his mouth as though he were going to speak, but nothing came out.
“You don’t like—”
“Don’t say that,” he said quickly, finally finding his voice. “I didn’t mean it that way. I love seeing your face, your eyes, your expression … all of it. That position … it’s just a memory I’ve never been able to shake—looking down at you … the concrete behind your back … the fear on your face … the tears in your eyes… It’s not what I want to think about when we’re making love… I know it’s illogical to be afraid to make love to you in the most boring position known to mankind.” He shook his head as he watched me “Just let me be a little crazy about this. Okay?”
I nodded. “Okay.”
He watched me silently, gnawing on his lower lip. “The more I’m with you in the now, the more I want to stay in this place, this time, this existence. I want to leave that other world behind. But that takes time… I’d given up thinking there was a now for us.” He looked away, his brow flinching. “My life was … on a very specific path that had a very specific end…” When he looked back at me, he took a deep breath. “That path is … not set in stone anymore, and—”
“Where did it end?”
He studied me, his brow furrowing. When he swallowed it was strained, and he glanced down at my chest. “Somewhere far less beautiful than this.” His eyes teared, and he swallowed over a lump as he looked away again.
I put my hand on his cheek. “Hey—”
“Please don’t ask me to think about it right now?” His eyes flashed to mine, and his expression was pleading. “Please. I’m … happy. Just let me stay in the beautiful place with you.” He ran his palms down my arms, and then he lifted them, running them down the sides of my face to my shoulders and down my arms again. He leaned to my shoulder, nestling against my neck as he wrapped his arms around me. “I can do this,” he whispered. “I can stay in this place with you.”
His voice was distant, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t confused by his words. He held me for a long time, and I rested my cheek on his shoulder, letting my lips touch the side of his neck. I closed my eyes, and my body tried to relax. I was tired. I wanted more than anything to be curled up somewhere warm with him. But cool air was tickling my naked butt, and goosebumps were popping up on my skin—never mind the ache in my hips and my lower back.
“Do you want to come home with me?” I sat up straight on his lap.
He sighed heavily. “Not tonight. I’m going to call Shawn, force myself to apologize, and beg him to come back and help me finish the floor in the bathroom.”
“Doesn’t the man work?” Did I care?
He chuckled. “He’s laid off at the moment. And he’ll pretty much take any excuse to get out of the house and away from his wife. You remember Leslie Tipton?”
I gasped. “That’s who he married?”
Kane nodded.
“Do you remember she tried to beat me up once on the playground in elementary school?” I asked.
“Oh, yes, I do remember. I threw pea gravel at her to make her stop. I ended up getting in trouble and being sent to the principal’s office.”
I smiled. “So chivalrous.”
He chuckled. “Do you have an extra house key?”
I nodded. “Under the planter that sits by the garage.”
“The one with that big dead bush growing out of it?”
“That thing had no will to survive. That’s not my fault.”
He laughed, squeezing the cheeks of my butt in his hands. “I’d like to come over after I finish up. It will be late—morning even.”
“Okay.” I started to stand, but he clutched my hip, holding me in place. I watched him. His eyes were distant again as he stared at my mouth.
“I was going to ask you to homecoming.” He glanced up at my eyes. “Back then. You should know that.” He nodded, looking back at my mouth again.
“I would have said yes. You should know that.”
He looked at my eyes again, biting his lower lip. When he smacked my butt, I jumped and squealed.
“You better get going.” He kissed me, and that time when I stood, he let me. He inched my skirt down my legs back to my knees, and he walked me to the door.
* * * *
I woke up the next morning to Kane sleeping soundly beside me. His hair was slightly damp, and it smelled like my shampoo. I crept from bed, pulling the door closed behind me. When I entered the kitchen, there was a piece of paper propped up in front of the coffeemaker. I picked sleep from the corners of my eyes and yawned as I walked toward it, and when I snatched up the piece of paper, I saw something very closely resembling the flower Sienna had drawn on the wall of Hilde and Mark’s house—that is to say, it looked like a large flaccid cock.
There were words printed on the page. A short paragraph at the top, and a short paragraph written at the bottom. The bottom paragraph was written upside down. I shook my head as I laughed quietly. And then I read.
This is a flower. It is not unlike the flower I’d have given you at homecoming. Turn the page upside down, Hell, and get your mind out of the gutter.
I giggled as I turned the sheet upside down, so the bottom paragraph was now at the top and the words were right side up. The … flower … was now rigid, erect, and pointing straight up.
This is also a cock. A very large one. A very hard one. It is not unlike the cock I’d have fucked your brains out with after homecoming.
Good morning, my sweet Hell.
I bit my lip, feeling heat burn through my cheeks.
I spent the morning scouring LexisNexis’s philosophy databases, reviewing articles and journal publications. The books and research weren’t the problem. That was in the bag. I could research like a motherfucker. What I was failing to do was crawl out of my shell and bring this thing to life in any valid, applicable manner that impacted the real world.
I finally gave up on the philosophy databases, and on a whim, I moved to some of my favorite psychology databases that I’d used back in my undergrad years. I immersed myself in a few journals, using “justice” and “crime” as my search terms.
Kane walked out just as I was pulling up a journal article titled, Injustice and Victimology. He was wearing nothing but his underwear, and he stretched, his muscles tightening as he did. He walked toward the kitchen, winking at me as he moved, and I watched him as he poured himself a coffee and returned to the sofa, sitting at the opposite end from me. When he picked up a book and started leafing through it as he blew on his coffee, I finally turned my attention to the article and scanned.
The ramifications of a crime left unresolved can be devastating to a victim.
That one passage alone stopped me still, and I stared at the words for a moment before shifting my attention to Kane. He looked up at me, smiling gently. He had no idea I was reading words that deconstructed an issue that impacted him just as greatly as they touched me. And I let the sight of him sink into me and the memories course through my veins for a moment before I returned my focus to the article.
Justice is this thing that can give a victim salvation. It’s also something that can eat away at a victim like a cancer when they don’t have it. It’s the difference between acceptance and peace or denial and tumult.
I could barely swallow as I read the words, and when I glanced up to Kane again, my vision was skewed with glossiness. My throat was tight, and Kane sat up, scooting forward until he was between my legs. He rested his hands on my stomach—his expression all concern and confusion.
The glossiness turned to real tears then, and I covered my eyes with my hand as my lips trembled. I felt the weight of Kane’s body as he leaned into me, and when he pulled my hand away from my eyes, I smiled this weird quivering smile as I let out an equally strange laugh.
He brushed the tears from my cheeks, biting his lower lip.
“I think I found my direction,” I said as another deranged laugh escaped me.
He smiled gently. “I’d say so.”