Laura's Fire

"Yeah, I'd love to stay with you," she said hoarsely. "Thank you, Tommy."

-#-#-#-#-#-

She was released from the hospital after the morning round, and so she dressed herself in the clothes Tom had brought her. They were too big, as he'd predicted, but it felt somehow nice to wear them, like she was wrapping herself in him. The sweater even smelled like him.

"Everything alright?" Tom asked as they walked out the hospital. "Do you mind if we stop by the phone shop? I dropped my cell at your place last night, so I need to buy another one. And I guess you do, as well."

"Yeah but I don't have any money," she said. "I mean I do, but my wallet burned down with the house. I need to get new cards for everything."

"And if you had a phone you could call everyplace and get it arranged, right?" he said. "I can give you some. Or, I don't know, lend you or something. Don't worry."

She did worry. But his proposition was sensible, and so she agreed to let him buy her a phone, thinking she'd pay him back at first chance.

They drove back towards his place, and he surprised her by driving past his turning and going straight to her lot.

"I thought we'd look for you cat?" he said. "Or is it too awful to go back there so soon? I thought she'd probably not come to me if I tried to catch her."

"Him," she corrected. "Yeah, you're right. Thank you."

They got to her yard and true enough, Patchy was sitting outside the ruins of her house, his tail around his legs, and he didn't object when she went to pick him up. She didn't want to stay and witness the destruction, and so she just got back in the car and they drove off.

He had a dog, an old golden retriever, who came to greet them at the door, lazily waving his tail. It sniffed her hand politely and stretched its nose a little towards Patchy in her arms. Patchy looked down at it and let out the smallest of hisses, it retreated and went to greet its master before turning back into the house.

"I think they'll be alright," he said. "I had a cat, previously, and Goldie is so old anyway I don't think she'll have any beef with your cat."

Laura let Patchy on the floor carefully and he sneaked upstairs, to the opposite direction Goldie had gone. It seemed they didn't have much interest in one another.

He had renovated the house to be really nice. Not that she had known what it had been like before, but it was beautiful now, homey, everything was fresh and new and clean. She wandered from room to room slowly, like in a dream, checking out the place. He made lunch, and they ate and tried to set up their new phones, installing sim cards and setting up chargers and cables.

"Can I make a fire?" he asked after lunch, nodding towards the fireplace in the living room.

"Sure," she said. Then it occurred to her he was referring to the fire that had taken her earthly possessions. "Oh, right!" she said. "No I don't mind, please just go ahead."

They sat on the sofa opposite to the fire. She stared at the fire, dazed, he looked at her.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "I tell you, I got really scared when I couldn't find you."

"Yeah, what happened, actually?" she asked. "I went to sleep and the next thing I knew you were pulling me out."

"I don't know what happened," he said. "Goldie asked to get out in the evening so I let her to the yard and then I smelled smoke. I grabbed my phone and left to check it out. When I saw your house there were already flames in the windows, so I called 911 and started running. And luckily your door was unlocked, so I could get inside to look for you. But I was so afraid, I couldn't have stayed for much longer, it was getting so difficult to breathe."

She just looked at him mutely. She didn't know how to respond to emotion in his voice, she had no idea why it was so important to him she didn't die. It seemed to mean more to him than to herself.

"I think you're still in shock," he said. "Do you think you should take a few days off work?"

"Yeah, maybe," she said. "There's so much I should do. I don't even know where to begin."

"Just do one thing at the time," he said. "I'll help you."

She wanted to ask why, why he would bother, but didn't dare in case he would reconsider and decide not to help her. She had no other place to go and now it was getting to her, she was getting anxious, she felt homeless, helpless, alone.

It was Friday and she spent the rest of the day calling around. To her boss to tell what had happened and that she'd take a couple of days off. To the post office to get her mail delivered to his address. To her bank and credit card company and insurance company and everywhere else she could think of. He helped her, brought her pen and paper to keep track of the things she started to get organized, suggesting something if she didn't know what to do next, brewing one pot of coffee after another.

He drove to the supermarket to get cat food and other supplies for Patchy, and she thought it was unbelievably considerate of him to go out of his way to cater for her cat. He even went back to her lot when he went to take Goldie for an evening walk, trying to look for Kitty, but when he came back he said he'd seen no sign of her.

He prepared dinner as well, he turned out to be a decent cook. He made her a bed in the guest bedroom, got her a towel and let her wash up in his bathroom. He had bought her a toothbrush from the supermarket, and it made her lose it and she cried awhile in the shower. It felt so wonderful and so unexpected that someone would think about her in such a caring way, that someone would think about her in general. She was so used to being alone, doing everything alone, having to take care of every single practical thing in her life by herself.

-#-#-#-#-#-

She couldn't sleep, she kept rolling around in the bed, and when she finally did she slept poorly. In the middle of the night she woke up abruptly, sitting in bed gasping her breath, and Tom barged in the door at the next moment. He sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her into his arms.

"You were screaming," he said. "Was it a bad dream?"

It must've been even as she couldn't remember it, her heart was pounding and she was coated in cold sweat. She grabbed him and hung on to him, and he held her tightly.

"Hush," he said gently. "I'm gonna take care of you".

She started crying. Everything just brimmed over, her loneliness, losing her home and everything she owned, feeling helpless. He held her and comforted her, he was patient and gentle, and she collapsed and bawled like a child. And he didn't let go, when her cry finally started to trickle down he laid down with her, kept her in his arms, just held her close. He was warm and somehow really comforting, safe, he stroked her hair with a very careful and respectful touch and she just pressed closer and relaxed. And she wanted to ask why, why he would take care of her, but she didn't want to break the magic of this moment, and so they just fell asleep together.

-#-#-#-#-#-

In the morning she woke up with something cold and wet touching her hand. She stirred, jerking her hand away, and saw it was Goldie. She put her wet nose to Tom's neck next, and he jerked awake as well and moaned.

"Awwh, Goldie," he said. "Fine, I'll let you out. I swear, she's gotten bladder problems in her old age, she never used to be like this."

He smiled at Laura, got out of bed and padded away. She could hear the door opening and closing, his footsteps going further, then the sound of the coffee maker in the distance. After a few minutes the door opened and closed again, and then Tom came back into the room with two coffee mugs and put them down on the nightstand. To her amazement he crawled back under the covers with her.

He was close but not touching. The bed wasn't very wide and he was on his side next to her, looking at her as she lay on her back. He was on her left side, and she was self conscious of her birthmark, even though she knew he had seen it a thousand times.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly. She nodded.

"But Tommy," she said, thinking she had to get to the bottom of this now. "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I care about you," he said. "But don't worry, I won't try to, I don't know, to take advantage of your position or anything. I'm not this scoundrel everyone says I am. Or maybe I am but I'm not gonna harm you."

"But why," she whispered. He was being so nice it felt like it broke something inside her, it was so difficult to understand, and it felt weird and scary and wonderful all at once.

"What's not to like?" he asked. "I liked you already as a child. You maybe don't remember it so well, but I used to run off to your place quite often back in the day. My old man was quite a drunk, and he was a mean drunk, and when I was a kid he drank heavily. Your mom was so nice, she'd let me sleep on the sofa and gave me food. And you were such a delightful kid, full of crazy stories, your imagination was just wild. I used to forget myself, listening to you."

She remembered some of it, of course. She remembered he had been at their place occasionally. But she had been so small, he was seven years older, he must remember it much better than she did.

"So when I was fifteen dad got beaten up badly, one time drinking," he said. "So he stopped drinking for a while. And I was too ashamed to come over without a reason. And then a few years later I left town the first chance I got. I'm afraid it wasn't a very good chance. But anyway, when I left you were a funny kid with this wonderful imagination, and now that I've come back you've grown up to be gorgeous."

He had been looking at her eyes, but now he looked away and blushed a little.

"That came out a little wrong," he said. "I don't mean I've been...lusting over you or anything. But I'll tell you this, I came back here to renovate the house and sell it, but after I was ready I just didn't do it. I've been just hanging out here, making all these little improvements that aren't even necessary, because I didn't want to not see you again."

She looked at him, flabbergasted, not understanding.

"But...no," she said. "I mean, nobody is attracted to me. Like. Ever."

He looked astonished. "You gotta be kidding me."

She looked back at him, and then suddenly annoyance flared up inside her and she pointed at her birthmark and said, "You act like you don't see it, huh? Don't mock me."

"Oh, right!" he said, his eyes widening. "Oh my God, I understand now. God, people around here can be so stupid. You know I really don't see it, not like that, it's just the way you are, you know."

She stared at him, still a little offended, on her guard. He cupped her right cheek with his hand and leaned closer, something softened in his eyes and then he kissed her left cheek, kissed her birthmark. He caressed it with soft lips, traced the line where it ended. She could feel his stubble scraping a bit.

She couldn't remember anyone ever touching it, not since she'd been so small her mom had put the lotion on it at night. Even mom hadn't touched it for years and years before her death, never since Laura had been old enough to tend to it herself. He breathed on her skin and she flooded full of lust, it was such a sensual and wonderful touch. He traced her birthmark up to her ear, her ugly red ear, and he kissed her neck just below her ear and then whispered into it, "You're perfect."

She turned her head to search for his lips and they kissed. It gathered momentum quickly, and by the end of it they were both breathing heavily, looking at each other.

"Sorry," he said. "I don't mean to harass you."

"You think you're harassing me?" she asked, astonished. "You think I don't want you?"

"Why would you?" he asked. "I'm just this no-good scumbag next door, ex-convict, no education, no nothing. I know what everybody's saying about me. And they're not wrong, you know. I have been in prison. I don't have anything to offer you."

"Anything to offer me?" she said, not believing her ears. "What are you, proposing to me or something? Can't we just...just..."

He smiled at her fumbling words.

"Well, maybe I should make it up for you, I did throw your dildo into the fire."

"Oh fuck, you did," she said and then they burst out laughing. It was good to laugh with him, it took some of the awkwardness away from the situation.

And then she reached to kiss him again. She let her hands roam on his shoulders, his neck, his hair. He slid his hand lower over the t-shirt she was wearing, one of his, touching her breast gently on the way. When he got to her waist he touched the waistband of the boxer shorts, slightly loose on her, and said, "My God, you're the sexiest thing that's ever been in my boxer shorts."

"Oh, yeah?" she said and let her hands slide on his back to his waist. "You're not bad, yourself."

He slid his hand under her shorts, rounded her buttock with it, and he sighed and pressed closer. She could feel the wonderful hot firmness of his cock pressing against her hip.

"So how do you want it?" he asked, caressing her bottom slowly with a wide, warm palm, seeking eye contact. "You like it rough? Or gentle? You want me to go down on you or not? Want me to talk dirty or nice? What is it that turns you on?"

"Well I, I don't know," she said, astonished. "Don't you know?"

All her previous experiences with an actual living man had progressed so that the guy just did something, and she just kind of followed and reacted. It had always been quite brief and almost always she'd laid on her back and the guy had been on top, humping away. And then again she had read a wide variety of erotic literature across different kinks and inclinations, and some of it turned her on and some not, but she had no idea which of it she would want to do in real life, if anything. She had sort of anticipated that he would just do what he wanted to do and she would then like it or not.

"Well I can't know what works for you," he said and kissed her neck, and she sighed when she felt his warm, wet mouth trailing downwards.

"Well what do you want?" she asked.

He got back to look in her eyes, and said, "I want it to work for you, I want you to enjoy it, I want to see you cum. It's not just some certain trick for me. I wanna do it with you."

"Oh my God," she said. "I like the sound of that. But I don't really know, you know, I...I haven't done it all that much."

"But you have done it?" he asked and bowed down to suck on her earlobe. She twitched and grabbed his hair, she was wildly turned on already.

"At least that was some impressive...equipment you had," he said and smiled at her.

"Oh man, you're embarrassing me," she said but couldn't help but return his smile. "Yeah I've done it, I'm not a virgin. But I just don't know if I like...all that you said. Or something else."

"Oh?" he said and looked at her very nicely. Tenderly. "Don't worry, we can find out. If you want to."

"Oh I want to," she whispered and pulled him down to kiss her.

They started by getting naked. She watched his body, the way his pectorals curved, dark hair around his nipples and down the middle to his navel. His creamy white skin and tattoos on his arms. His bulging muscles. He had a narrow pelvis and strong thighs, which made his pelvis look even narrower. His testicles were the hanging type, his penis straight and thick, darker than his skin. She loved it, and the thought of having that inside her filled her with desire and restless longing to get to it already.

He pushed her over on her back and kissed her, kissed down her body, and when he sucked her nipple into his mouth she grunted. It felt amazing, stinging but soft and moist and her nipples cramped almost painfully. He licked it gently, lifted his head up and asked, "Did I hurt you?"

"No and don't you stop," she said and pulled his head back down. It felt like he was smiling when he kissed her other breast.

He was already at her crotch when it occurred to her she had showered last night and not just now. She'd had one partner that had gone down on her, but he had always insisted she wash it right before, saying he didn't want to smell it or taste it. Before she could ask if she should go wash he had already dived in, kissing her labia deeply and passionately. He pushed his tongue deep inside her, and when he twirled it around she lifted her hips up and moaned loudly. It was an intense feeling and it got more intense when he moved slowly up to her clitoris, sliding a finger in her, then two.

He started carefully, gently, but she was impatient now, her lust mounting rapidly. He followed her, sucking on her clit and flicking it with his tongue, and she bucked her hips up and moaned.

Orgasm rolled over her like an earthquake, in diminishing waves, it was probably the strongest she'd ever had. He kissed her clit lightly and smiled up to her when she twitched violently.

"Well, that worked for you," he said and kissed her lower abdomen, set his head to rest on it lightly. She put her fingers in his hair and caressed his scalp with her fingertips.

"Sure did," she said breathlessly. "Thank you. It's...it's been awhile and it was really good."

"Good," he said.

"Won't you come up here and kiss me?" she asked.

"If you want me to," he said. "Not everyone wants to smell themselves, I didn't know if you do."

She didn't know if she did, either. He came up to the pillow and kissed her and she responded slowly, tasting herself, smelling herself. She thought it was not a bad taste, or scent, it was musky and somehow earthly.

Suddenly she wanted to know what he smelled like. What he tasted like. She had given oral sex before, but couldn't remember ever particularly wanting to. Now she did.

"Think I could do that to you?" she asked.

"Sure, if you want to," he said.

She pushed him down on his back and got to it, kissed him down his body much as he'd done to her. She marveled at the textures of his body, coarse hair on his chest, tight nub of his nipple, smooth skin on his sides.

And his penis. It was perfect, meaty and hard, and she stroked it and it got harder. Dildos were okay, and had all these different functions and vibrations and whatnot, but the organic quality of a real penis just wasn't replaceable. She put her nose into his pubic hair, near the base of his cock, and inhaled deeply. He smelled roughly similar than she did, but different, somehow darker, more intense. Wonderful.

She settled between his legs, pushing his thighs wider, feeling muscles flex under his skin. She turned his penis towards the ceiling and took the head to her mouth, and he sighed and pushed up a little. He put his hands into her hair but didn't guide her movements, he just caressed her head. She circled the head with her tongue, followed the sensitive ridge underneath, stroking his shaft slowly. He grunted and a drop of slightly salty precum leaked out of him, she lapped it up and marveled at the taste. She sucked him in and slid him out for a while, at a leisurely pace, and he seemed to appreciate her efforts.

With a sudden strike of inspiration she asked, "Can I put a finger up your ass?"

"You'd want to do that?" he asked, amazed, his voice husky. "Oh, honey. Sure, if you wanna, but I don't have any lubricant in the house. I don't self lubricate, you know?"

"Oh, right," she said. "I can help with that."

She got up on her knees and scooped up some of her moisture with her right hand index finger, stroking his shaft with her left. He looked at her with eyes heavy with lust, and she looked back at him, smiling. She spread her own slick liquid carefully around his butthole, getting it wet, and pushed inside a little with her fingertip. He quivered. She could feel how it might be done, that he'd yield, he would let her in. It excited her, she had never done this before and now she was curious.