Impact of Collision Ch. 09

I don't remember them leaving but I woke up alone, feeling sick, wishing I was dead.

I was staring at myself in the subway car doors as they opened and with a lurch of alarm I saw it was Claire's stop. I jumped out of the train and raced down the platform, oblivious to the water pouring down onto the platform from the street above, I was running again. Running away from that awful night, running to save myself from my own mistakes. I pushed through the turnstiles and straight into a crowd of people standing at the bottom of the stairwell, watching water cascade down the steps and into the station like an urban cataract.

The rain was no longer fat drops, it was a monsoon. The white noise of the storm drowned out all else. People were yelling at each other, but I couldn't make out what was being said. It looked like most of the people were like me, having just gotten off the train, but three or four were drenched. They'd obviously run down into the subway for shelter.

I pushed past them all and splashed up the stairs. It was only as I heard the first gasps and shouts of surprise that I remembered how short the little trench coat was. I'd flashed the crowd my bare ass. The hoots and cat calls followed me up the steps as I charged into the rain. I didn't have time to feel embarrassed or anything other than wet. I don't think I'd ever been in rain that heavy. I was soaked in seconds. It was falling so hard it weighed me down. The now soaked tangle of my hair pulled at me. Traffic was moving slow because the streets were flooding. Cars and trucks left wakes as they drove past. Water flowed over my nose and lips as if it were pouring from a faucet, making it hard to breathe. I kept running.

I rang Claire's bell but there was no answer. I felt a spike of fear, what if she changed her mind? Even as I thought it, I knew I was being stupid but the fear was real - my heart was pounding, my skin was cold, the rain trickling down my back and into my ass felt warm. I could feel the hair on my arms standing on end, I was shaking. I was looking for an object to latch onto, a rationale to support the feeling of my body. I needed to explain the terror.

'She hates me,' I thought.

I hear the buzzer click. I run up the steps, she's standing at the door, in the loose silk top and wide leg pants she'd been wearing this morning. Her hair is still pulled back, but her eyelids are puffy and red. She looks as tired and as cried out as I feel.

"Ah putain! Sarah you're soaked!"

"No cabs..." I pant. The rain water is still trickling down my back and into the cleft of my ass.

She's holding my face looking into my eyes, she's smiling but her expression is sad.

"Oh no, you look worse than me..." she tells me., then looking down at my neckline she asks, "What are you wearing?"

"I wasn't dressed, I just-"

I pull open the little trench, flashing her.

"Sarah! Why are you naked? That hardly covers your ass! Did you get the train dressed like that? Have you gone mad?!?" She grabs me and pulls me inside, slamming the door and hugging me hard. We're both laughing until I start to cry, and then we're both crying.

"Tu me manques," she moans into my ear. I can feel her tears on my neck. "Come in. Oh no, you're so cold. Oh Sarah, what have you done, what happened to you?"

She pulls me over to the bathroom and, stripping off my trench, wraps me in her big white robe. Then scrubs my hair dry with a towel, using a corner to dab at our eyes and wipe at our cheeks.

"Better," she tells me, and leads me back to the big white sofa.

"Stay," she commands. I stare at my boots, thinking I should take them off, but I'm too exhausted.

I hear her moving about the kitchen, the clink of glasses and ice, the crack and fizz of spring water being opened.

"I'm so sorry Claire," I tell her. "I know you think I'm brave, but I- I'm not."

"Please you must not apologize to me, I couldn't stand it. Really! It's me who should be apologizing to you Sarah!"

I start to protest, but she heads me off.

"No! Please hear me out. It's not just about what happened last night, which I never should have let it happen-"

"But I-"

"Let me finish... Because it's not just about last night Sarah. I knew how old you were - or thought I did - but I knew you were younger than me, that you had never done anything like this before. But just know this: you are so brave Sarah... you are fierce!"

She is standing at the kitchen island, staring at the blue glass bottle, at the tumblers full of ice. I'm looking at her over the back of the sofa. She looks so thin, so diminished. I can see her gathering her thoughts... perhaps her courage. I think that maybe I should come clean, tell her about Rebekah and Darci, about the fantasies - but none of that is anything like what we are doing. That was hide and seek, that was cat's cradle. This is real. My heart aches as she picks up the glasses in one hand and the bottle in the other.

"Even so, I wanted too much, too fast - I know that," she says as she walks around the sofa to me. We are looking at each other as she sets everything down in front of me and settles beside me, her beauty hurts my heart. "I pushed you - because I wanted you, and then I pushed you harder because I got scared - and I'm so sorry for that. Truly. For that, and for not telling you my age sooner."

"I'm not totally clueless. I knew you were older - you havesuch nice product." This actually makes her laugh. "No one my age has Aēsop EVERYTHING."

"That's my mother..."

"Whatever! There's like a thousand dollars worth of makeup and crèmes in your bathroom... I just told myself you were French, or maybe 27? You're so beautiful Claire and you, you just don't look-"

I stop myself from saying...

"Old?" she asks, smiling at this, a welcome break in our misery, enjoying making me squirm.

"No, not at all. Seriously, you are so beautiful Claire. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known," I tell her. "It never occurred to me to think about your age." I watch my words take effect. I can see how much she enjoys hearing me call her beautiful.

'Have I told Claire how beautiful she is before?' I wonder, thinking of all the ways she has told me how beautiful she thinks I am - my mouth, my hair, and breast, how much she loves my body - I struggle to remember when I might have told her any of these things.

"At times it feels like a dream just to look at you, when..." I start, but something she said strikes me, stops me cold. "What do you mean you're scared?"

"Of you? Yes, I think so. But I want this to be clear Sarah, I never lied to you, I never meant to mislead you... but I could have told you; I see now I should have told you. I... I just never imagined you didn't know."

I look at her, the sadness and frustration starting to cross her face again, like... the night before?

'Christ, the karaoke bar feels like another lifetime,' I thought.

"I don't want you to think I look at you as a girl. You are a remarkable woman Sarah. I was selling ice cream on a beach when I was twenty four. I am so in awe of your accomplishments, your attitude and grace. You are intimidating."

This is so hard to take in, so hard to believe I feel like I'm gaping at her, I want to interrupt to ask how that's possible. Her knees are touching mine, yet she still feels so far away. She's sitting up so straight. She looks so brittle. I want to leap in her lap and embrace her, but I force myself still, force myself to listen.

"I have never felt our age difference," she tells me. "But as soon as I told you how old I am I was afraid you did. That you would think I am some sort of cougar..."

Claire is staring into her hands. I can see she's struggling with something. I want so badly to say something, to tell her it's ok, but I know that's not what she wants. Instead, I wrap my arms around her and wait, my head resting on her shoulder. She is so slight. Her shoulders feel so narrow in my arms. She feels so fragile.

"But this fear, this was the small fear Sarah. The big fear is that I will lose you, that at any moment I will never hear from you again. That you don't feel for me what I feel for you."

It was shocking to hear my fears mirrored in Claire, to know she was wrestling with the same anxieties as me. Was she right? Had I kept one foot out the door? Had I ever been afraid of losing Claire without being more afraid of what it would mean to keep her? The guilt of it was like a wound. Like a gash we shared wherever our bodies touched. I could feel tears coming and pressed my face into Claire's neck; hid there in the beautifully slippery smell of her perfume, something from another time, another world.

"I'm so sorry for not talking to you about what I was feeling," she whispered, petting my hair, pushing her fingers into my damp curls. "But I am most sorry that I got impatient with you... you are young, and I knew that, but I got frustrated Sarah, and I am ashamed of myself."

She's kissing the top of my head, but her words chill me. My body draws against her, bracing for a blow. I fight the urge to beg her to stop, that I'm too afraid to hear what comes next. I can't help but remember the rancid feel of Danny's semen in my stomach as he walked out on me, telling me I was shit. That I was a "rotten lay" and full of myself. I want to beg Claire not to hurt me, that I'll do anything.

"You are so good to me, Sarah," Claire says, taking my face in her hands. And pulling me up to look into her big hazel eyes, liquid and soft, her warm regard. She kisses me softly on the cheeks, drinking my tears. "I feel how badly you want to please me. I feel it whenever we are together, but I want to please you too. I adore you. I can tell that something is holding you back... that you're not ready. I know you are not... as experienced... as you think I am. That your time with Danny was not good..."

I feel myself unwinding, no longer expecting a blow. It's her eyes. Those eyes would never hurt me. I trust the look in those eyes more than any promise anyone has ever made me. I squeeze Claire in my relief and release a long juddering breath.

"I know I should be patient, that we are not the same, and I've tried. But when you turn me away, when you hold me back... again and again... at first I thought, when you saw me enjoying myself that you would want that for yourself, that if I demanded things I wanted for myself you would begin to demand for yourself but you didn't... and I let it scare me, and... sometimes I like to talk dirty-"

"PshhYEAH you do!" I scoff through my snot and tears, I couldn't help it, but both Claire and I laugh.

"Yes well," she confesses with an embarrassed smile. "Maybe more than sometimes."

She strokes my cheek, giving me another little kiss.

"I knew this shocked you. I could tell this was something you and Danny never did. I liked that it shocked you. I loved how you responded. It made you so... eager. I could tell it excited you. But I let my fear come out as real anger. I said things I wish I hadn't. I hate that I was rough with you."

"I like that you know what pleases you, that you demand," I admit. "...I like being your slut. I love being your whore."

"Sarah..."

Squeezing her lips between her teeth, and swallowing hard, Claire looks at me, an expression of wonder on her face. Her tears finally overflow but she doesn't sob. When she speaks again, I can hear her struggle not to lose control.

"I love the things you do to me, how you make me feel. The only thing I have ever wanted more is to do the same for you. Please believe me, I only want to make you happy and give you the same pleasure you have given me...," she says, her voice shaking. "You are so fresh. I don't want to rush you, I never want you to do something you don't want to do - last night-"

She chokes up and I wait for her to recover, but reach out to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She lets me, but as she regains herself she takes my hands in hers.

"...it's hard Sarah, harder than I thought. Sometimes it's difficult for a woman to... open up, to allow herself to be pleasured. I understand that, I've felt that way with men at times... and this... this is... different; taboo. It's very new for both of us. I understood why you might hold back at first. But I didn't think you would hold back this long. It's scary for me to feel this is one-sided, that perhaps you don't feel for me what I feel for you?"

I look at her hands holding mine, I know I should say something, anything, but my words are choked back by the tears, I look at her face, even tears streaming down. I just want to tell her they are my fears too.

"This morning, when you took Wes to the bus, I thought you would come back, that I could talk to you. When you didn't come back or reply to my voicemail or my texts, I thought that I had driven you away. Today was the worst day of my life Sarah; the thought of being without you."

Our hands are in Claire's lap. She's looking at our fingers, laced together, holding tight. There's a long silence. I want to be sure Claire is finished, that she's not just gathering her thoughts.

"Last night was awful," I finally tell her, when I am sure she is done.

"I never meant for you to-"

I hold up my hand, and Claire stops, chastened.

"I've never seen you vulnerable before, never seen you hurt. I knew, our first time..."

I faltered, wanting to use a euphemism, but thought of Claire, how clearly she speaks.

"The first time I went down on you... that I ate you out... and then told you I was tired... I knew that you didn't believe me, that I'd confused you. I hated that. I knew you didn't understand. But Claire, I don't understand either, so I tried to pretend it wasn't happening. And then it happened again and again, and each time it got worse. Like I was lying to you. And last night I hurt you and I saw it clearly, I felt it. That's what was awful Claire. I never imagined I was hurting you - I didn't even think I could."

The tears are starting again, and I stop, taking deep breaths while Claire watches. She looks so sad.

"I went to confession today," I tell her.

I'm not sure what effect I thought these words would have, but I was unprepared for the look of alarm in Claire's eyes.

'She thinks I'm breaking it off,' I realize, my body going cold.

I jump up and Claire looks confused, her eyes a little panicked, but when I straddle her, climbing into her lap and wrapping my legs and arms around her, resting my chin on her neck.

"It's not like that," I whisper, into her ear. "It's nothing like that I swear. He's an old friend of my mother, he was wonderful. He told me God is love. That my love is God. That God wants us to love each other."

I can feel her alarm growing but I don't know how else to explain myself; have no idea what I'm saying. I know I sound like a Jesus freak, but can't stop myself.

"I just needed someone to talk to... about us," I admit. "Someone I could trust."

She feels so tense in my arms and for a moment I think she's going to push me away, that she's going to send me home. But instead I feel her kiss me on my ear. I realize I'd been gripping her with all my strength, with the touch of her lips I relax and so does she.

Pulling back so she can see my eyes and I can see hers, I take a deep breath and start again.

"Both Kwasi and Wes... they know. I got so scared that they both knew."

"Did Wes see?!? Oh Jesus Sarah, was he upset?" She asks with fresh alarm. "Will he tell your parents?"

"No! No, he didn't, nothing like that. I'm pretty sure he didn't see... what happened. It was other stuff he noticed... It doesn't matter. He likes you Claire. He likes us. He says I've never been so happy."

"And Kwasi?"

"All he said was he's happy for me." I blush, remembering how desperately I'd asked him not to tell.

Claire looks relieved, but still very worried.

"I went to confession because I was hurting you and I felt terrible that I was hurting you, but I felt paralyzed. I don't want to be paralyzed with you Claire. I don't ever want to hurt or scare you."

I feel like I should say more, that I should explain myself, that I should admit what a fucked up broken person I am. I want to tell her that I've fallen in love with her, that I love her. But I'm afraid she will think I'm crazy, that I will scare her away. So instead I am watching Claire's face as emotions wash over it. As her worry gives way to something like sorrow and then her sorrow melts to an expression so kind I want to kiss her, and I do.

My kisses are chaste. I kiss her on each cheek, and then again, but more slowly. Our eyes are open and she is watching me as I do. Her eyes follow me as I move back and forth. I touch her lips with mine and hold them there, waiting. My face pressed against hers. There is a mischievous look in her eyes that makes me smile, and she smiles with me, and as we do our tongues reach for each other, touching in passing, as our kiss deepens and grows fierce.

Claire is holding me tight, her hands are under the robe and squeezing my bare ass. The robe was only ever pulled closed and now has fallen open. I am naked against her, straddling her lap, grinding my pussy into her belly.

"Sarah," she whispers. "May I kiss your pussy?"

I think of Darci. How I'd told myself girls don't count. How wild she'd been, how we'd shrieked. Claire is beseeching, her whole manner is gentle and sincere.

'Claire isn't Darci,' I tell myself, picturing my mother, wondering what she will think. 'Claire does count, Claire is real.'

I nod yes, pulling the robe open, letting her see me.

"I only want to kiss it," she says, lifting me up so I start to stand on the cushions, but pivoting me and lowering me again, so I'm sitting over her on the back of the sofa, my boots to either side of her. She settles me there, and pets my skin. "I promise I will only kiss."

She is sitting with her legs curled up next to her on the sofa, looking up at me, her expression earnest and kind. I nod again. Her mouth is close enough to my pussy that I can feel the heat of her breath. My heart is racing; tiny fluttering beats.

"Please kiss my pussy Claire."

She smiles, placing her hands on my inner thighs, and staring into my eyes, she leans forward and kisses me on the lips.

Looking down on her, on her thick hair in my hands, her face, her long lashes, her thick lips touching mine. I've never seen anything so beautiful, I've never felt so beautiful. I think of Claire asking me why it was so hard, "to find someone who makes me feel beautiful and loved."

"Was that nice?" she asks with an encouraging smile. "Do you like this? May I kiss you again?"

"Yes, very nice Claire," I admit softly, and it's true. It feels easy and light, it feels profound and loving. I feel beautiful and loved.

"I like this very much," I tell her. "Please Claire, kiss me again."

This time, her hands push my thighs even further apart and spread me wide. I am open and wet. She leans in and kisses me. When she sits back and looks up at me her lips glisten with the kiss. My heart is thundering now, like hooves crashing on a track.

"Again?"

"Yes."

She kisses me again, looking to me for approval. I nod and she begins to kiss me over and over.

I moan and she stops, looking up at me.

"Sarah, may I lick you? May I taste your pussy?"

"Please."

My voice is strange. Not shaking, but fluttering. I can feel my diaphragm quivering. I am gripping the back of the sofa with all my strength. My skin is hot. I'm certain Claire can hear my heart.

She leans forward, her lips touch mine, her eyes look up at me as her tongue drags upward between my lips. I suck in air sharply, my hips roll to push my pussy towards her mouth. But Claire sits back.