I'll Always Catch You Pt. 01

"Hannah Maier works for NASA at the Glenn Research Center where she is the lead designer in something called an ion propulsion engine. I don't know what an ion engine is, but Hannah sure does. She's also a member of Mensa with a verifiable IQ of 156."

"Oh bullshit! I don't buy that for a second."

"Believe what you want, but those are the facts."

"So you're telling me that she's got a brain in her head that working on a rocket engine and yet allowed Moose to beat her? All the while she's working at Glenn Research."

"A high IQ doesn't mean you're blessed with a lot of common sense. Sometimes when a person is looking for love, their brain gets switched off. Sometimes the more intelligent a person is—I don't have an answer."

We sat in the office as the sounds of the hospital filled the small room. "Is Hannah okay?"

"Her physical wounds are almost healed. Her mind carries the scars of her relationship with Moose. I doubt those will ever fully heal."

"Did Hannah really say she wanted to see me?"

"Yes she did. In fact Hannah asked about you several times."

I looked over my shoulder at the door that led back to my world. Back to my own complex and screwed up life. I didn't need nor did I want to add Hannah's problems to the stack of my own.

"Why me?"

"You need to ask yourself why did you do what you did in the park? Would you have acted the same way if you knew Hannah worked nights at a 7-11 or as a propulsion engineer for NASA?"

"I would have done what I did no matter who was at the edge"

"So, it doesn't make any difference then what type of person anybody is?"

"You're right. Did Hannah have other boyfriends other than Moose?"

"She did. None of them added up to anything. Moose was the worst of the lot. As a matter of fact, Moose scared most of her boyfriends away as well as her friends, and the last boyfriend she had Moose beat severely. He isolated her."

My mind was a jumble. People get mad. Men and women fight. Look at Lisa and me.

"I'd like to talk to Hannah."

********Chapter Five********

Diane's blue high heels tapped out a rhythmic tattoo as her and I walked the polished floors. There in a large open area, near a row of windows, sat what I took to be Hannah. She stared out the windows, completely unaware of Diane and me. We stood no more than two meters away.

"Hannah? This is Jim, the man you wanted to see. He was the gentleman that saved your life last week at the park. Remember, you asked me about him?"

Hannah nodded.

"Why don't you sit and talk a while with Hannah?" Diane asked as she pointed to the long couch Hannah was sitting on.

"That sounds like a great idea," I said as I offered my hand to Hannah. She slipped her hand into mine, and gave it slight squeeze. A smile tried to form at the corners of her lips but didn't quite pull it off.

Diane turned and I watched as she walked away. Those damn blue high heels along with those too tight dress pants sure held my attention. Hannah noticed me watching Diane's sexy gait.

"She's very attractive," Hannah said.

"Yes she is, but I'd bet you'd look every bit as sexy wearing blue high heels like those"

"No I wouldn't."

"When you start feeling better and when you get out of here, I'll buy you a pair of blue heels and we'll go out on a date. How's that?"

"Maybe."

I offered her my hand. "Shake on it."

She placed her hand into mine. "It's a deal then," I said. Hannah almost smiled.

It's hard to judge someone appearance when they're not on their best game. She sat next to me in jeans and a white tee shirt. There was no makeup on her face. Hannah's hair looked like she cut it with a hedge trimmer, and it fell haphazard over her ears. Her feet were bare.

Hannah adjusted her back against the arm of the couch, and then pulled her knees up. Her toes wiggled into the fabric. Hannah wasn't bad looking by any means, yet at the same time, she certainly wasn't a model either, and she didn't have a figure like Lisa. Hannah was what us men call 'girl next door pretty.'

Hannah's oval face hasn't seen much sun. A short pert nose sat in an ocean of pale skin. I'd bet her thin lips haven't had much to smile about. But my God, those eyes of hers. I've never seen anyone with eyes like Hannah's. She had green eyes the color of daiquiri ice rimmed with smoky blue. They were also wet sad eyes floating in the tears of depression.

"I wouldn't toss you to the floor for eating crackers in my bed." I said.

"Really?"

"Sure. I wouldn't have said it if I didn't mean it."

As they say, the third time was the charm, and at last Hannah smiled.

"Diane told me you've been in here before."

Hannah nodded. "It's a long story."

"I'm in no rush to leave, I'm enjoying your company, why not tell me?"

All at once Hannah reached down and grabbed the bottom of the tee shirt, and before I could say a word, she yanked it up over her bare breasts.

"Holly shit!" I said as I tried to pull her shirt down. "Good heavens, Hannah, you didn't need to do that." I managed to lower her shirt down to her bellybutton.

"Everyone here has seen me nude, what's one more pair of eyes? Besides you wanted to hear my story, so I'm going to show you."

No sooner than I took my hands away for her tee shirt, she pulled it up once more. This time I didn't try to pull it down.

"Look."

I did. Between her breasts and on her breasts, were several wounds, still red and inflamed, all about the size of a nickel. She turned slightly, and there on her side, were several more. She let her tee shirt go. She fumbled on the snap of her jeans, and I didn't stop her. Hannah pulled the fly down and spread the two halves apart. Hannah pulled down the elastic waistband of her panties to reveal several more of those nickel-sized wounds on her hip and waist. In a jiffy, she turned around, and with her butt in my face, raised the back of her tee shirt. There all over her back were scars from that piece of shit she was living with. By her right shoulder blade was a six-inch long scar. Apparently one of the cuts Moose did with a razor.

She turned back around. I simply couldn't wrap my mind around all of this. How could this woman, a woman with such a high IQ let some drug dealing piece-of-shit torture her?

"He told me that he'd make sure no man would ever want to be with me."

"Moose?"

"You know about him?"

"Diane told me."

"Oh."

"Why did you stay?" I asked.

"He told me he love me. I was his."

"Hannah. Hannah. Hannah. Love is never supposed to hurt. Never!"

Her eyes filled with tears and then those tears slowly meandered down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands. I moved closer and pulled her tight. My arm went around her waist and I held her. I wanted her to feel my strength. I wanted to let her know there were plenty of people that cared about her.

And I was one of them.

********Chapter Six********

Hannah and I talked for a few hours, but it wasn't all about Moose or what he did to her. We talked about her job, and the ion propulsion system she was helping to design. It was as though Hannah was two different people. She knew more about the stuff that I work with everyday than I thought possible. If she didn't already work for NASA, I would have hired her on the spot. She asked me if I had any girlfriends, and I gave her the abridged story about Lisa and me.

That afternoon when I left Hannah, I was emotionally drained. God, the stories she told me about her and Moose. How could any human being allow another person to abuse them? So I didn't go back to the pencil palace, and decided I would drown my sorrows with a few shots of Crown Royal. I found what I needed at the Brick Barrel. I sat by myself at the bar, it was around fiveish or so, when I heard my name, and when I turned around, there was Becky.

"Where have you been all day?" Becky asked.

"Remember that woman that tried to jump off the cliff?"

"Yeah. What about her?"

"The appointment I had? I went to see her today." I turned and looked at Becky and asked, "Can you tell me why any intelligent woman would let a man beat her? Christ, why not run away from him? Ah damn you should see the scars on her body that man gave her. Here's the kicker. She's not stupid. Hannah is a engineer that's working at Glenn Research."

Becky slipped onto a stool next to me. "Bring me two of whatever he's drinking."

"You've never been much of a drinker," I said.

"Every now and then I do, and this seems like a good now."

"Bottom's up." I tilted my head back and down a double in one gulp.

"Do you think I've got a good head on my shoulders?" Becky asked.

Becky and I have a history. I've known her since college. As a matter of fact, Becky and I had been lovers, we even live together for over a year or so, but we never seemed to fall deeply in love.

"If I didn't, I sure as hell wouldn't have hired you."

"What if I told you I was abused?"

"Get out." I watched Becky as she sipped her Crown Royal. "You're serious aren't you?"

"Yeah. It started right after you and me... I won't mention his name simply because I won't give him credit that he's alive. I really fell for that guy. He was charming, sexy, intelligent, fantastic in bed, and I was his girl. At first everything was gold. Then little-by-little he changed. Looking back, perhaps it was me that changed. I began to notice things that I hadn't seen. I was blinded by love.

"The first time he struck me was during a fight we had over sex. I remember it like it was yesterday. I was dead tired and he wanted a romp in the hay. I told him no. Not tonight. I shouldn't have said that. He backhanded me so hard, I thought he knocked some of my teeth out. He pushed me on the floor and yanked my pants off. There in the living room of our apartment, he raped me. After he was done, he pulled up his pants and left."

"Damn, what the fuck? Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"I didn't want to get you involved with my mess. Could I have cried rape to the cops? He could have always told the cops it wasn't rape; we have had consensual sex dozens of times before. Try and prove it otherwise. The next morning he came back. He was crying. He promised me he'd never hit me again. He begged me to forgive him."

"And you did, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. We were in love. I forgave him."

Becky turned on the bar stool and looked at me. "You see abuse is not about anger or the striking out. It's all about power and control. He controlled my life. He told me what to wear, when to wear it, what time the meals were to be served, when we'd have sex, how much money I was allowed to have, and on and on and on."

"He hit you again, didn't he?"

"After that night, things slowly returned to his normal. Three weeks later, he came home drunk. He managed to lose all of our rent money in a card game. We had nine bucks in the savings. Oh, but he had a plan. It was simple. All I had to do was sleep with a few of his friends and the bills would get paid."

"He tried to pimp you out to his friends?"

"That's it in a nut shell. I of course refused. He took his frustration out on me. It was MY fault the rent would be late. Not the fact that he blew it all on a poker game."

"So... It started over?" I asked.

"He threw me onto the kitchen table breaking it in the process. I ended up with a black eye and bruises all over my right side of my body."

"And the rent?"

"I called Mom and I lied to her. I told her we were broken in to and everything was taken. She wired me the money."

"Becky, why in the name of God didn't you leave?"

"Because I was embarrassed! My parents raised a good daughter. They taught me well. Do you know the feeling of shame I harbored in my mind? How was I going to explain to Mom and Dad what I had allowed him to do to me?"

"So the abuse continued?"

"Yeah. A never ending circle and the cycle repeated. He'd get mad, we'd fight, and I'd end up hurt. He'd beg for forgiveness and promise to never do it again."

"And you stayed."

"Until that one night. He came home drunk again. He demanded sex and this time he pulled a knife and held it to my throat. When he was done with me, he called me a whore. He beat me so badly I could barely move the next morning. I got into my car, and I drove non-stop back home to Tennessee. I can still recall the look on Mom's face when she saw me. At last my fear of him overcame the embarrassment I had. I told Mom and Dad what was going on in my life."

"And that was the end of him?"

"No. Not by a long shot. I have three brothers, and they didn't take kindly to what he did to their little sister. So, a week later, they show up and introduced themselves to my ex-boyfriend. They beat him to within a fraction of an inch of his life. I never heard from him again."

"Damn! I guess I never gave it much thought. I figured if someone is abusive to you, you'd hightail it out of that relationship as fast as you could."

I was about to say something else when in walked Becky's boyfriend, Jason. He came up behind her and began to rub her shoulders. I watched as he leaned down and kissed her cheek.

"I've got a good man now. And when he gets up enough nerve to finally ask, I know he's going to marry me."

Becky took his hand and they moved to a booth and sat. I still didn't quite understand everything about an abusive relationship, but I knew more than I did when I woke up that morning.

When my drinks were finished, I came to a conclusion. While I didn't know Hannah that well, I knew she needed someone to lean on.

And I was going to be that someone.

********Chapter Seven********

The hospital sent Hannah home after a five-day stay. After she got home, we would meet every other day, usually for coffee downtown. We would talk and I think it made her feel better. I was starting to seriously enjoy Hannah's company. I guess it had been at least four weeks now since the event in the park, and we were still seeing each other. And yes, I did buy Hannah a pair of bright blue high heels. She said she'd wear them for me when the time was right. I didn't know what she meant by that.

Every time we had met in the past, Hannah always wore jeans along with her black pumps. I got a surprise one day. At first, I wasn't even sure it was Hannah when she walked up. Hannah had on a red skirt, barely white nylons and white heels. She wore a blue shirt that she had let the top two buttons loose. I was absolutely mesmerized at the sight of her.

"Jesus, look at you?" I said as I pulled out a chair. "You clean up amazingly well." I shook my head. "I didn't mean it the way it came out."

"I had a meeting with the big shots from NASA. They wanted a report on how much headway we're making on the new engine design."

"Were they satisfied with the report?"

"We didn't blow up the building, didn't create a black hole in the lab, and I didn't get fired, so I guess they were happy."

My eyes were locked on Hannah's legs. She crossed her legs, and I thought I saw the lacey tops of her stockings. Damn do I love to see a woman wearing stockings. There is something about seeing a peek of skin right above the stocking's welt that drives me wild. I know fashion has changed, I know that women don't wear stockings and prefer to go with bare legs. Some women wear Pantyhose, Becky does now and then and I don't know why. There should be a federal law that forbids the sale and wearing of pantyhose. They are the bane of women everywhere. I'll take stockings any day of the week.

I must have been making a fool of myself, and apparently Hannah picked up on it 'cause she crossed her legs at least three times and every time was a bit slower. She somehow managed, for my behalf no doubt, to hike her skirt up until I could see that fancy lace top on her right thigh. That was too much for me, and there was no way to control my hormones. I don't react like this to every woman that happened to be wearing stockings, but this time, it was Hannah. My dick began to swell, and it pushed out my jeans. Jesus, we were sitting outside at Shooters watching the ships, sipping coffee, and I had a boner in my jeans. I tried to hide what was happening between my legs.

"Do you like what I have on today?" Hannah asked as she looked at my crotch.

That was obviously a question that Hannah already knew the answer to. So I decided not to even try and lie to her. I reached across the table and rested my hand on hers.

"Yes I do. As a matter of fact, I enjoy seeing a woman that's wearing stockings, and you're right. I have an erection 'cause of you."

At first Hannah didn't say anything. She looked at me with those eyes of hers and said, "I noticed and I'm glad you do."

"I'm sorry this happened," I said, "I bet you think I'm some sort of—"

She cut my words short when she moved her legs and re-crossed them.

"After all the weeks that have gone by, you've never tried anything with me. You never try to kiss me. I thought maybe you were only seeing me because you're afraid I'd try it again?"

"Try what again?"

"You know. Jump into the river."

"Ah, Hannah, that has nothing to do with us at all."

The busyness of Shooters filled in the awkward seconds of silence as we sat and looked at each other. I wanted to tell Hannah more, about how I thought about undressing her and having my way with her. I was so unsure of my own thoughts. Men think with their cocks. I'm no exception. I had fantasized about being with Hannah, and what it would feel like to slip my dick between her legs. Yet at the same time, Hannah was like a piece of fine crystal, and I was so afraid that the least amount of pressure would destroy it.

"I wanted to meet with you last week, so I called. I talked to Becky. She said you were out of town."

"I was."

"Becky and I talked. I like her. She told me about you and Lisa. She mentioned that you and her were lovers. Becky also told me about you how you liked to see stockings on your girl."

"So you planned this? You consider yourself my girl?"

A flash of red filled Hannah's face. She shrugged and said, "A little bit. I did have a meeting, and I wore this outfit for the meeting but mostly for you. I am your girl aren't I?"

"Absolutely, and the stockings?"

"I had to go buy some. Moose wouldn't let me..."

"It's okay. I'm not Moose.

"I know you're not. But the things that he hammered into my head. I don't like to wear them because of my past with Moose, so when I do wear a dress, I always wear pantyhose because my legs are as white as Tom Sawyer's whitewash fence."

"Wait until I talk to Becky."

"Please don't be mad at her. I asked her about you. I couldn't understand why you weren't making any advances toward me. Was it me? Didn't you like how I looked? It's those scars on my body isn't it?"

It was crunch time. She had me in a corner. Do I fess up and tell her what I had been thinking about her? Or lie and tell her something sugary? I opted for the truth.

"It's not you. You have always looked great. Right now? I'd love to see that skirt you're wearing around your ankles." I did a quick glance around Shooters and then said, "Then I'd take your shirt off, remove your bra, and kiss your breasts while my hands made love to your legs."

Hannah was pushing all my buttons all at the same time. There I said it. Hannah looked at me but didn't say a peep. Perhaps I crossed the line?

The waitress came and took my money for lunch. I stood and offered my arm to Hannah. She slipped her hand in and we began to walk back to the pencil palace. As we strolled along the river, perhaps I did feel like I was her guardian and not her boyfriend.

Hannah stopped walking and she took my hands into hers. "I would enjoy everything you said back at our table."

We heard water splash and when we looked around, a freighter was slowly making its way up the river. I don't know what came over me. I put my arm around Hannah's waist. My free hand reached up and cupped her right breast. I kissed her right there in the middle of the day with my hand on her breast, my lips on hers. She slipped an arm around me.