Amy and Elizabeth
- 1 year ago
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The BastardChapter 5: Elizabeth free porn video
I was wrong. Something else happened.
It happened that Elizabeth came to see me late. Very late. I must have fallen asleep, because I woke to pounding on the door. I don't know how she got into the building. I thought I heard her voice calling in a dream, but she pulled me out of the dream and through the dark hall and the living room. The only light was the yellow gleam from the street lamp in the alley, streaming up through the windows to project drops of melted snow onto the walls and ceiling.
She was standing almost inside the door frame, and there was snow on her shoulders, on her coat, in her hair, on her shoes. There was at least a sprinkling on everything that was hers, and she was shaking.
"You bastard!"
Even in the dim light of the hall she was paler than usual.
"You bastard!" Shaking with rage. There was nothing I could say to her about it. It didn't matter anyway.
Don't say anything to make her feel bad afterwards. Just take it and let her go.
"You could have waited until morning to tell me that," I said, thinking shut the fuck up, Ed. "No reason to go out late in the cold."
"You bastard! You're all the same!"
Something different in that. What's going on, Elizabeth? There's something else going on. And your face. It's too pale. Your lips. It's shadowy here, but I think they're tinted blue. Jesus! She wasn't shaking with rage but with cold.
"Where are your hat and gloves?"
"You bastard!"
"Where are they? You're freezing!"
"You... I don't know. I left them."
"Left them?"
"With him!"
"Oh, shit! Come in and warm up."
"No!"
"You're freezing! At least get warm."
"No."
"Come on in. Let the bastard do something right for a change!"
Elizabeth didn't pull her hand away when I took it and led her across the room. She shook terribly, like someone in a fever. Her hand was dry ice. I thought it might be frostbit. She was quivering, shuddering. She must have been outside a long time. She hunched over the radiator and held her hands to it.
"I'll get you something hot."
She didn't answer, so I went out into the kitchen and made hot chocolate. Hurry, damn you! When I returned the only difference was that her coat was lying on the floor. Her hands and face were almost touching the radiator.
"Here." But she couldn't. Not at first. Her hands shook so much she spilled some chocolate.
"Let me help." I held the mug to her lips. She didn't try to stop me. She sipped a little then after a minute took it back from me and held it herself, even though she would shake every few seconds. She stood over the heat, sipping and looking out the window, never at me.
There wasn't much to see out there. The snow wasn't deep enough, not yet, to cover the tar paper or roofing cement of the buildings along the alley, so it was a gritty, cold scene. The lamp made everything yellowish. Steam came from some pipes, whipped around in the wind, and disappeared.
Outside you could hear the wind. Inside there was just a tiny whistle in some spot that needed caulking. The snow was now mixed with sleet that ticked off the base of the window. Elizabeth stood and sipped, and I just looked at her standing against the window and thought, and the only regular sound was the occasional ticking of sleet on glass.
"You're a bastard. All of you."
I began to have an idea what had happened.
"What did he do?"
Elizabeth turned toward me and put the mug down.
"He's just like you."
"What did he do?"
"What didn't he do? What you all do. His own version."
"Did he hurt you?"
"Hurt me?" Elizabeth laughed. It was an awful laugh. "You hurt me! He disgusts me. He wants me to do a girl." She closed her eyes. "He wants a threesome. What doesn't he want? Is there anything you don't want?"
She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her stomach as though it hurt. I knew that look. She waited—it was obvious—for me to answer, and finally looked back up. There was nothing to say. There was nothing for her here. She shouldn't have come.
"I'm sorry."
"You're sorry? What are you sorry for? Because you're not getting any of it?"
It was here that she began crying. Don't do that. Please don't. Not again.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were hurt again. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry for everything. I'm sorry I'm such a bastard."
She was still crying. Quietly, like everything else. I could hear more ticking of sleet against the window than I could hear Elizabeth cry in little sighs. I reached out to touch her shoulder.
"Don't!" She swung away from me, to the window again. After a minute I took the mug to the kitchen because I couldn't stand it.
When I came back she wasn't crying. She began talking almost right away, in flat, tough-sounding tones, without looking at me.
"Tell me something."
"What?"
"Did you ever care for me at all?"
I didn't answer. I wouldn't. I don't think she really wanted an answer. Let her talk, then go.
"Did you? Or was it all a plan to get what you wanted? Was it just your way of getting into my pants, of getting into my ass?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't.
"You're really good at it, you know. You can make a girl feel all excited. Get her all warm and shivery. You're good. Do you have lots of practice? You know how to make her think you're the one, the real one. I bet you get to screw any number of women that way."
I stayed mute. Don't be drawn into it, Ed. Let her talk herself out.
"Well?"
There was nothing to say. Nothing that would help.
"Was I just the rectum du jour?" After a minute. "I bet you thought I was awfully easy. But you see, I never fell for anyone before."
When she said that she dropped the tough-girl act and started crying again, in the middle of the last sentence. A tear meandered down her face, through the drops projected onto her from the window.
"You were the first one."
Oh Jesus. Have you ever really hurt anyone? I did her good. I'd known, but it's different knowing it and seeing her keep hurting in front of you. It was as bad as when she caught us. No time had passed at all. Something, a song lyric, some words swirling around in here about the one you always hurt. You son of a bitch.
"Well, I'm sorry to ruin your perfect night. I'm sure I've completely embarrassed myself. I'll be going now." She picked up her coat and started for the door.
"No!" Don't say it!
"Good-bye."
"Don't go!" Shut the fuck up, Ed!
"Why not?"
"Don't go." Hurry! I'll kill you when the wolfsbane blooms, and the moon is full and bright.
"Why not? I'll be fine, once I'm away from you."
Give a reason! Think! "You'll never get a cab, not here, at 2:30, in this weather..."
"You bastard!" she yelled.
She ran at me and tried to pound me with her fists. Her coat fell to our feet. When I grabbed her wrists she struggled and kicked and tried to yank a hand free to hit me. "You bastard, you bastard, you bastard!" And then she collapsed against me and was crying on my chest, and my face was down next to hers and I was talking to her again.
"Don't leave. Stay. Please, stay. Please."
I was crying too, and kissing her hair, and holding her up.
We stood like that for several minutes. I don't know how long. She never struggled, never tried to get away. Her face was against my chest, her arms at my waist, my arms around her, my cheek on her hair, and we were swaying together. Our shadow against the wall in the yellow light was swaying along with us, looking warm and affectionate. Spots and trails of melted snow projected onto the wall and ceiling.
And I was sick at heart.
I was sick at heart because I was so weak. I had given her hope. I had to crush that hope. I had to hurt her all over again. At least maybe I could spare her the big hurt.
Finally we separated, pulled back half a step from each other, our hands finding each other and holding on. Elizabeth was looking up at me. I think she expected us to kiss, but I had to resist or I couldn't go through with it, and that would mean stringing her along. I had to cut the string. The light was on my face now. She could see my face was wet and, thinking of these things like I do, I decided I could use that fact to help get through it. I pulled her toward the couch.
"Sit down, Elizabeth. Please. I have to say something."
I sat on the coffee table and wiped my fingers over my eyes. How to start? Get it out fast.
"I'm a monster. I'm a bastard. What you said about me, it's the truth. You're better off leaving."
She didn't look startled.
"If you'd asked around, you would have found I have a reputation." She started to say something, but I waved a hand and went on. "In your circle there are people who know. I've done things with some of them. I'm surprised no one warned you. So yes, when I started taking you out, it was for the sex. Not just. But, yes, mainly for the sex. No, it was all for the sex! It was calculated. I'm attracted to talented women. The more talent, the more the attraction."
"Why are you telling me this?" She was backlit by the street lamp.
"Because you have to know. I almost never lie." What never? Hardly ever. And I'm hardly ever sick at sea. Stop it! Go on.
"But I don't tell the truth, either. I let people draw conclusions. I need you to know. If I don't tell you now, I won't ever be able to. I'm a monster. I'm sure I'd enjoy doing all the things that other guy wanted to do."
Her voice never got hard. "So. So is this where you tell me I was right and you never cared for me?" What do you say? There was my opening. Miss Straight-Line was setting it up. "Did you? Did you ever care for me?"
"No. I never cared for you."
Please believe me. Don't. Please do. Because the sun is filled with ice and gives no warmth at all. That much is true. But Elizabeth didn't believe or disbelieve. She shuffled, kicked her coat. She bent to get it, but stood back up instead.
"Then why did you ask me to stay?"
"I thought we might sex." And it don't snow in Boston, Mass., in the wintertime.
"Then why are you telling me to go? Edward, tell me the truth! At least give me that!"
Oh no. She knew. She must, somehow. Was it stapled on my forehead?
"I always wanted sex with you. I wanted your ass. I wanted it the very first time I saw you, before we ever talked." I stopped for a breath. Let me try some truth, the whole McGillicuddy. Maybe. "Then it became different. It wasn't one-sided. You weren't a fool. I wanted to be with you when we weren't having sex. I thought about you during the day. I even had little daydreams about our being together, having kids, the whole nine yards. Me." I shook my head. I said "me" ruefully enough to make it believable.
Nova
- 08.05.2020
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