Alex
October 18, 2017
“Wessy,” he says.
The mother, who’s talking to Eli, couldn’t care less about who’s holding her son.
“Wesley?” I say, wanting to wrap my arms around him and keep him safe forever but knowing that probably wouldn’t be the appropriate thing to do, so I just hold him on my hip.
His face is filthy from days and days of dirt. His shirt smells sour, and his diaper feels wet.
I wait until Eli stops talking, and I gently touch his arm and look to the woman. “When’s the last time you changed his diaper?”
But it’s as if she doesn’t hear me. She keeps rattling on and on about the jail time she’ll receive if Eli takes her in.
My tone changes. “Hey!” I say loudly, firmly. “When’s the last time you changed your son’s diaper?”
She stops and looks at me. “Who are you?”
“When’s the last time you changed your son’s diaper?” I repeat.
She takes her short, stubby fingers, her nails covered with dirt and whatever else, and counts on one hand. Then, she stops. “I don’t know.”
Anger surges through me.
What I want to say is, You shouldn’t have been able to have children. Wesley should be with a mother, a family, who isn’t drugged out. Life isn’t fair.
A lump in my throat forms. I see one diaper sitting on the back of Eli’s truck from the search that he performed from her purse. I give her one last glaring look before I march over to the truck and take the diaper.
She doesn’t care that I’m about to change her son’s diaper, but Eli does.
“Quiet,” he tells the mother and turns to me. “Alex, I’m not sure you can do that. Child Protective Services is on the way.”
I switch Wesley to the other hip and grab the diaper from the back of the truck. Eli sees a fire in my eye.
“I will not let this child sit another minute in this dirty diaper. That’s awful and wrong, Eli. He could have an awful rash because of it. One that really hurts.” I seethe. “Besides, who’s going to tell?” I eye him. I look over at the mother, who’s still rattling on and on about stars, the government, white bread, and Charlie Chaplin.
I take Wesley to my side of Eli’s truck. Rookie leans forward and looks at Wesley before I lay him down on the seat to change his diaper. He whines and cocks his head.
“Some people just don’t know how to take care of people, Rook.”
“Doggy!” Wesley squeals.
Rookie stares at the boy for a quick moment and then licks his face.
Wesley looks up, his bright eyes full of promise—a promise his mother cannot give him right now—and shrieks, “Doggy!” He reaches up and touches Rookie’s face as he leans over him. Wesley squeals in delight.
I don’t have wipes, but I’m sure Wesley will be happy. Those would most likely burn his tender red area where the mother neglected to take care of.
Rookie stares down at Wesley. His head cocks to the other side, and he gives the little boy one last lick. Wesley laughs a gut laugh, a deep, infectious laugh that makes me laugh.
I pick him up and hold him to my heart. His crazy blond hair going every which way, he rests his head on my chest and takes a big, deep breath, as if he knows I’m a safe place for him to land.
“It’s all right, sweet boy.” I stroke his head as Eli’s hand touches my elbow.
“Child Protective Services is here for Wesley.”
My heart turns away. It wants to leave. It wants to take this baby and run. The social worker reaches out for Wesley, and I hand him to her.
“His name is Wesley.”
“Are you family?” she says.
Wesley is too tired now to pick up his head.
Yes, I want to say.
But Eli speaks for me, knowing this might be too tough, “She’s with me. The mother is on the other side of the car.”
The mother is now talking to the open space around her.
I watch as the social worker strap Wesley in the car seat that’s probably held more children than I can count. The car seat that has taken children from trauma, sadness, dysfunction, drugs, alcohol, abuse. And just one more child will enter the system this evening. Again, I’m guessing, but I’m assuming I’m spot on.
I feel Eli’s hand touch the small of my back.
“You okay?”
“No,” I say as I climb in back with Rookie so that the piece-of-shit-prisoner can climb in front.
Rookie looks at me.
“Sad, buddy,” I say to Rookie.
He whines as he moves to a lying position and puts one paw on my leg.
Eli opens the door so that the woman can climb in front.
As my hatred extends to the front seat, Eli starts to talk to her. “You need help, Lexi.”
But, somehow, she’s saner, more normal this time. As if Eli’s words are no longer falling on deaf ears. “I know.” She scratches at one of the many scabs on her face. “Will my son be safe?”
What I want to say is, Safer with them than you, but I’m sure she already knows this.
“Do you really want this for your son? Do you?” Eli asks.
She starts to rub her forehead with her fingers. I can’t see her face, but I can see Eli’s.
“No”—her voice quivers—“I don’t.”
There’s silence as the truck hums down the highway. Rookie’s head falls to my lap.
After a long stretch of silence, Lexi speaks again, “You’re sure he’s all right? He’ll be okay?”
Eli nods. He’s not positive, but he knows he’s safer with Child Protective Services than his mother. Because the ugly monkey of addiction will rise again when her buzz has worn off, and she’ll use once more. I think Lexi knows this, too.
“What about rehab?” Her hand shakes as she reaches up to scratch another scab.
“I can give you a list.” Eli’s voice is gentle. “Bottom line is, you have to want it. You can’t get sober for your son. You can’t get sober because it’s the right thing to do. You have to get sober for you.”
“I know.” She scratches the side of her face one last time.
We escort Lexi to a police patrol car just out of South Hope to be transported to the jail.
I climb in the front seat and wait for Eli, who’s talking to the police officer.
He walks back over to the truck and gets in.
I stare at him. A smile pulls on both sides of my mouth.
“What?” he asks as he puts the truck in drive, and we head back the way we came.
Once we’re out of eyeshot of the police officer and the oncoming traffic has subsided momentarily, I lean over the center console and kiss him on the cheek. With this kiss, I want him to know he’s more than I’ve ever imagined as a human being, as a man. I want him to know, through acts of love, I am moved by his compassion, his empathy to help others, his willingness to go the extra mile if that means the person will be treated with dignity, with respect. I want him to know that I would have treated Lexi with far less compassion. Just everything. Watching Eli interact with her made me realize she deserved respect, compassion, empathy. For forever? Absolutely not. Somehow, she’s got to wise up, hit bottom. But I think having her son taken away today—which was hard to do on Eli’s part, I know—was one step closer for her.
I slowly pull my lips from his cheek as he drives, and he turns to face me before I’ve moved back to my spot in his truck.
“What was that for?”
“For my lesson in compassion,” I whisper.
I can tell he wants more in this moment. I also know he’s at a crossroad—car accident or kiss because I would give him the best kiss I have in me. The only kiss that I’ve been somehow setting aside for only him. A kiss I didn’t know I had. I know how he feels about his work, and I’d never put him in a place where he had to make a decision between giving me what I needed and his work, so I move quickly back to my side of the truck.
“I’m staying at your place tonight.” He doesn’t ask. It’s an instruction. It’s a fair warning. Eli turns right. “I’m sleeping in your bed with you. You won’t have clothes on. I won’t either. Whether we make love or not, I don’t give a shit.”
“Okay. What about panties?”
“Prohibited.”
It’s late when we pull in the driveway of the Malcomb Place. We grabbed lobster rolls from Brock’s in town. But I can’t focus on food. The only thing I can manage to focus on is Eli touching me in places I ache to be touched.
We set down the food, and Eli directs Rookie to his bed.
“I need to do book research,” I say.
Eli stops and cocks his head. “Oh, all right. No problem. I’ll get our plates ready.” He’s still in uniform.
“You’ll want to change, Eli, into something more comfortable.” I can tell he’s caught off guard by my forwardness.
“Will do.”
But he has no idea what I’m about to do.
I go into the bedroom and take the clothes off from the day. I jump in the shower and wash my body and my hair. I put on the little black dress that Bryce sent me with a note that said, Lucky.
Without panties and a bra, I slide on the skintight dress. I brush my wet hair and put some lip gloss on.
I left the door open to the bedroom just off the kitchen, hoping Eli would steal glances. He casually has every so often.
Leaning in the door of the bedroom, facing the kitchen, I watch as his mouth drops. He’s changed into a T-shirt and jeans, sitting at the bar. At first, he can’t say anything.
He coughs. “I thought you said you had to do book research.”
“Oh, I did.” I walk toward him. “Very important book research.”
Eli’s on the barstool.
“I need to know what it’s like to be toyed with in a room full of people.”
Eli looks around. Rookie is passed out on his bed.
“There’s no one here.”
His hand slides up the backless dress as I stand between his legs. He’s staring up at me as I keep my body close to his.
“I know. I want you to pretend. What would you do to me right now if we were in a room full of people? Would you be casual? Subtle? Would you take me to the restroom?”
Eli sighs, drops his head, and lets out a slow, throaty chuckle. He stands, takes my hand, and leads me to the dining room table. “Sit.”
I do.
He dims the light in the kitchen and lights a fire. “We’re in a bar,” he says as he sits down next to me. “I’ve taken you someplace quiet, to a booth in a dark corner. People are chatting loudly. Some are dancing to the stale music on the jukebox.”
We’re facing a wall of windows, and the light is dim enough to where we can barely see our faces.
“There are people we don’t know sitting with us, but all I can focus on is you.”
I feel his hand slide up my thigh. The throbbing between my legs grows. Gently, he pushes my legs apart, and I let them hang on each side of the chair, so he has full access to whatever he needs. They’re spread so far apart, I can feel the coolness against my middle.
“Do you have panties on?”
“No.”
He leans into my hair and moans.
I feel my nipples grow hard.
His arm goes around the back of my chair, so his body is open to mine. “I want you to lean forward, keeping your legs nice and wide.”
His finger teases the inside of my thigh. So badly, I want him to touch my middle, so I lean forward more so that my sex is almost flush with the chair.
“See that lady over there? She probably wants to know what I’m about to do to you right now,” he whispers into my hair. “But you have to be still, Ms. Fisher.”
But I can’t speak.
I feel his fingertips brush through the little hair that exists, protecting my space.
I pant. “What if I want her to know? What if I want her to know that you’re mine and that you’re marking your territory?” I look him in the eye just as one of his fingers spreads my middle apart.
“Oh my God. You’re so wet, Alex.”
I close my eyes and thrust my hips forward.
“No. Eyes open.”
My eyes flutter open while I try to maintain my coolness.
“Eyes on me.” He takes one finger and puts it flush with the chair next to my opening.
He doesn’t have to ask me to move; I just do.
I feel it against my spot as I move my hips back and forth. It’s as soft or as hard as I want it to be. He’s still staring at me, and all of this feels too good.
“Lean back,” he says.
I do.
He slides his fingers inside me. “Don’t make faces. You don’t want anyone to know that I have my fingers inside you right now.”
I pull his face to mine and give him my mouth. His lips are shaking, so I know he feels this, too.
His fingers move.
I clench against them.
“Oh my God,” he whispers against my ear.
“Shh. You don’t want her to see,” I pant inside his mouth.
“Let’s go in the restroom.”
Eli slides his fingers out of me, and we stand. I pull my dress down, light-headed and tender between my legs.
Our bodies are flush against each other, his front to my back. My nipples are hard. Behind me I reach and take his length in my hand.
“Your pants are still on.” This time, I say as I push against it.
I lead him to the spare bathroom, but he stops.
“What?”
He reaches around and cups my breasts with his hands through the dress. Eli inches me toward the wall and pulls the back of my dress up to expose my bare behind, and I bend over slightly, so he can see all of me.
Eli pulls me back to a standing position and takes my mouth in his from behind. His tongue and my tongue match push for push. My knees grow weak.
With a quick tug, his pants are pooled at his feet, and I feel all of him. Loud, pronounced.
“Please,” I beg.
Reluctantly, I pull away from his lips and put both my hands against the wall as I spread my legs.
Eli grabs a package from his pocket, and I hear him unwrap it.
My middle feels heavy in the best way possible. I yearn for him.
“People will see.” I look to the audience that doesn’t really exist.
“Let them,” he whispers as he grabs my shoulders.
I feel his length slide through my legs and to my opening, touching my hot spot once, twice, three times, not inside me yet.
“Eli.” My voice hitches. I say his name not as a question, but as a strong statement.
I push my behind up, so he can fully take me.
“Is this okay?” He pushes through to my hot spot again.
I can’t speak. I want to, but I can’t. Eli stops.
“Alex?” His voice is heavy.
“Please. I need you inside me.”
Then, I touch down between my legs and put the head of his length inside me. I call out as he pushes.
“Oh, fuck.” I feel him flush against me, knowing he’s all the way in.
He pulls out and pushes in and pulls out and pushes in. “Alex, fuck,” he hisses.
I need more of him, so with as much strength as I can muster, I ease him out, take his hand, and lead him to the bedroom because this isn’t enough.
I climb on the bed and throw myself down. “Come here.”
Eli eases himself down, knowing he needs to slow down. He puts his mouth on my thigh. “Close your eyes,” he says.
I do as my legs fall apart.
Gently, he pulls back the lips that protects my soft spot and pushes his tongue against my center. At first, it’s soft, and I’m not sure I can contain myself. Then, he grows harder with his need. He takes all of me in his mouth. I grab a pillow and put it over my face and scream his name. Again, he pushes his tongue firmly against me, this time faster. I pull the pillow away, breathless, because, now, I need to watch what he’s doing. I sit up on my elbows and watch as he takes me in his mouth.
“Are you hard, Eli?”
He hums in me.
Holy fucking shit.
“I want you to come in my mouth, Alex. Please.”
“Noooo,” I groan again, still watching, taking his head in my hands as if I have control over the situation.
With a small piece of self-control I didn’t know I had, I pull his mouth from my heat and put it to mine. I take what he’ll give me as I grab his hardness and put the tip of it inside me.
He pushes three times.
“Wait,” I say. “I want it off—the condom. I’m on the pill.”
I slide off the condom, and he drops his head to my breasts, panting.
“Are you sure?” His eyes are now on me, heavy and wanting.
I get up on all fours and grab the headboard. I bend and spread, so he can have full access to me. “Yes.”
He’s behind me. He takes his finger and rubs it across my heat. My hand helps to guide him inside.
“Alex, you’re so wet.”
He thrusts inside me, grabbing my breasts and sliding in and out. His fingers do their job up front, and I’m not sure how much more I can take.
“Eli!” I scream.
We’re in rhythm, and the sound we make when our bodies collide is nothing short of remarkable.
“Fucking, Eli!” I call out, thrusting hard against him.
“Oh God.”
He flips me over and pushes back inside me. “Two things I need to see: you come and me making you come.”
I watch as he slides in and out of me. “Do you like watching?”
“Yes,” he hisses, his eyes watching our movement.
He pushes inside me two more times.
“I’m coming now.” My voice is not my own, weak and feeble. And I do. I let go and see stars and the moon and sunshine and everything pink.
He calls out hard and deep as he takes one last push.
I feel him pulsate inside me, and then he drops next to me.
There’s a long silence between us—on my part because of what just happened. I try to wrap my head around it. It’s astonishing what you’ll say, do, in the heat of the moment. But, when that moment passes, the embarrassment waits until reality catches up and smacks you in the face.
Oh God. Did I say too much? Do too much? Will this make it awkward now? We role-played. I said things. Did things.
My face grows red.
Eli pulls my hair back and leans over so that he can see my face. “Can we do that again?”
I smile. “Absolutely.”
Because the heat of the moment is back.