Anthea s baby 1
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The Last Chapter free porn video
Edward and I had a very unusual beginning as far as love affairs go. He was a journalist for a large, well respected newspaper, I was a crafter of words in a different way. He dealt in facts, I dealt in opinions. He wanted to cut to the chase, dig down into the meat of an issue, I wanted to skate around the edge in an ever shrinking circle until I reached the central issue. He lived in the real world, I tried to avoid it. We seemed like two disparate souls without any way of connecting. But connect we did, and though I don’t know what, if anything, our future holds, it has been a ride I won’t ever forget.
About a year ago, on the publication of my first book, I was sent around the country on a signing tour. It sounded exciting when I first heard that I was going, but increasingly, it became exhausting. I never knew what city I was in when I woke up in the morning, and I was always surrounded by people, by felt completely alone. The people were nice, and flattering as they asked me to sign their books, behaving as though I had committed some incredible bit of wisdom to paper, however, I knew that not one of them had a clue what my life was like, or who I was on the inside.
New York was like a dream, when I finally got there, for a small town girl, a huge, culturally diverse metropolis like the Big Apple was overwhelming. My senses were assailed by the ceaseless sounds of traffic and people, the dichotomous image of the rich and the homeless, passing each other in the streets, the smells of hot dogs and diesel fuel, and the taste of the city’s grit on my tongue. It was miraculous.
Signing books in New York was unlike the rest of the cities I had been to. The people were alternately gushing with praise or completely disconnected, handing me my book with a bored sigh and telling me their name. It was the most exhausting night of my tour yet, and I was feeling anxious and depressed.
As I wrapped up the signing, and retreated to the back room of the store with my agent, I relished the escape. When the store manager let me out the back to have a cigarette, something I had picked up again on my tour, I felt an enormous weight lifted from me. I thought about the veterans that came to me, thanking me for my words, telling me it was good to know that someone understood what they were going through. I had really written the book for them, but it seemed that most of them would never read the words of hope I had so diligently slaved over, and struggled to imprint on hearts as well as the page. I was quickly becoming disheartened by the whole affair.
That was the moment Kila came into my life. My agent poked her head out the back door of the building, where I was savoring a vague moment of solitude amid the cacophony of horns, truck brakes, people hailing cabs, children crying, and people asking me to sign their books. She looked one way, then the other, finally spotting me as I tried to merge with the wall behind me in the shadow of the building.
‘Can you stand to do one more?’ she asked, the annoying cheer in her voice grating on my last nerve.
‘Why? The signing ended twenty minutes ago,’ I replied, with much less animosity than I was feeling.
‘There are two reporters here, It would be a good idea,’ she responded sharply, but in a lowered voice that told me they were nearby.
‘Sure,’ I said, ‘but then I’m going to go get a drink. I need it.’
The woman who emerged into the dimly lit alley behind the store was tall and slender, like me, only she had a graceful build as opposed to my athletic one. She had short blond hair, with dark roots, which stuck out from her head in a careless way which instantly inspired my envy. My own long curls caused me no end of frustration each day as I tried to tame them into some semblance of appropriate behavior. Beautiful, in a tough way, her eyes said that she’d seen it all, and she was a survivor.
She put her hand out, and said at once, in a husky voice which seemed to caress me a little too intimately, ‘Kila Mackenzie, I read your book, and I loved it.’
She went on to reveal that she had covered the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan for a brief time as a photographer for my favorite newspaper, and found my book to be honest and raw. She said that, as she read my words, she could tell that I, too, had experienced the Post Traumatic Stress that many of her colleagues and our troops were coming home with. ‘You weren’t just a repeating a line of bullshit like a lot of others do.’
This struck me, violently. I had tried so hard to express the feelings and experience of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, without revealing too much of myself, and this woman was calling me out on it. I was shaken by her blunt candor, and said so. One of the things I said in my book was ‘no one has time for your bullshit,’ and I meant it.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to put you in the uncomfortable position of telling me to fuck off by asking you how you ended up with PTSD, I just wanted you to know how important your book is.’ she smiled. ‘I’d like to introduce my friend and coworker, Edward Warren. Eddie, this is the author I’ve been telling you about, Samantha Barrett, Samantha, my best friend Eddie.’ I looked into a pair of blue eyes that burned with an intensity I’d never seen before, and took a hand that was hard and warm in the evening chill. ‘It is very nice to meet you,’ I said in a stunted, awkward sort of way.
‘You too,’ he replied with a voice that revealed precisely how uninterested he was in the whole exchange. He had a good four inches on me, and was fit and rugged. The dark hair was a striking contrast to his eyes, and he attracted me like a magnet in a visceral way.
‘Are you sad that the book tour is over?’ Kila asked me? ‘or relieved.’
‘A little bit of both, to be honest,’ I answered. ‘I get a little claustrophobic around a lot of people, so it has been a bit tough. I prefer meeting people like this.’
‘What? In a dark alley?’ She joked.
‘Yeah, I’ve always found alleys to be great places to meet people.’ I tartly replied.
‘Well, if you would be interested, we’d love to take you for that drink you said you needed.’
My agent, nodded her head vigorously from the doorway. I think she was desperate to get me some more publicity, and befriending a couple of reporters from an internationally read paper couldn’t hurt.
‘Sure, that would be great,’ I said to them, ‘but I really don’t know this part of the city at all.’
‘No problem, where are you staying, we’ll go somewhere near there.’ Kila replied.
It was at that moment that I realized, I had no idea where I was staying, and looked at my agent, who supplied the answer.
‘I know the perfect place.’ Kila announced., her friend looking less and less thrilled at the prospect of spending another moment in my company.
‘Kila, I’m sure– Edward?’ he nodded, ‘Edward has better things to do than to spend an evening with us.’ Although I was intrigued, and would have liked to do nothing better than spend an evening with him.
‘No, trust me, he doesn’t.’ She answered with a snide look in his direction, which he answered with a smirk.
‘Well, let me get my things together and we’ll go.’ I stated, with a lot more enthusiasm than I felt, but a dawning sense of something stirring in my abdomen. Fear? Nerves? Attraction?
That evening, Edward relaxed a little after a couple of drinks– alright, it may have been more like four or five drinks– and though still quiet and reserved, did contribute some funny, intelligent comments to the conversation. And though I never really got a sense of him as a person, I was strongly attracted to him. I had told myself, as I was gathering my things, that I could handle an hour and a drink or two with these people, but two drinks turned into three, and then into food, and then into a couple more. Edward got a call, and excused himself to take it, and Kila continued to enthrall me with her
tales of life in the city, and her experiences as a photographer around the world. When he returned, looking flustered, he said ‘I’ve got to go. It was nice to meet you.’
‘You need to get the fuck away from her.’ Kila said to him, confusing me thoroughly. I thought for a moment she meant me.
‘I know,’ he answered, extending his hand to me, ‘I know.’
‘She makes you miserable, and I hate it,’ she said to him, with some real emotion in her voice, as I finally realized that they weren’t talking about me.
‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’ he told her, and kissing her on the forehead, he left.
Kila, took a long sip of her drink, and then put it on the table with a sigh. ‘His girlfriend is a cunt. Sorry to say it, I know how most people feel about that word, but she really is.’
I laughed, and told her ‘I actually love the word. Chaucer used it– the wife of Bath had a magnificent one– why shouldn’t we embrace it, take it back.’
She looked at me candidly, nakedly, and I saw pain in her face. ‘He spent way too much time in the war zone. He saw too much, and needs to find out how to come back. I knew him before, and during, and now that he is trying to transition back, he is a complete fucking mess. You know. You wrote about it. What’s the old line? ‘you can’t go home again?”
‘I think it is all too true. So many people who have been there, seen what they’ve seen, what you’ve seen, can’t come home. It’s the nature of the culture.’
‘War brings out the best and the worst in people, and you find that all those little delusions you had, about people, about the things you thought you needed or wanted, about your life and yourself… they just evaporate. Then, you come back, and everyone around you seems shallow and vapid.’ She stared off, seeing something that wasn’t there as she talked. ‘Yeah, I worry about him. He doesn’t trust anyone, and he can’t relate anymore. I think I’m his only real friend.’
I thought how sad it was that such a brilliant, handsome man, could be so troubled and hurt. Like a moth to a flame, I was hooked. The moth draws ever closer, never really seeing how dangerous the flame is.
‘He is very attractive,’ I said, trying to sound less interested than I was, ‘his girlfriend must care about him a great deal.’
‘I don’t really know. She’s a strange bird. She has been on him to get married for a couple of years now, but he keeps putting her off. You know, that inability to really conceive of the future? Anyway, I’m glad that he hasn’t asked her. I think he is just too far gone right now to get into a marriage. He can barely keep his own life under control– he gets in fights, he drinks too much, he doesn’t sleep– how the fuck would he keep a marriage together.’
‘Yeah, marriage is tough.’ I knew very well how tough it really was. I was three days away from signing my divorce papers, and still reeling from the failure.
We talked a lot more that night, and five hours after we had arrived, Kila paid the tab, even though I offered to split it with her. As we parted, she thanked me, and asked if I came to the city often. I told her that I probably would be now that the book tour was over, and I was starting a new project. When she asked for my number, I gladly gave it to her, marveling at how quickly she had become a friend.
Three months later, I had fallen in love with New York, and didn’t know why I ever felt the sounds and sights, and smells were overwhelming. The city that never sleeps became a haven for me, and was starting to really help my career. I was making my first documentary, about the same soldiers I had written so passionately about, and I had moved.
I was living in New York, in a third floor walk up that never seemed to get warm. It was a decent neighborhood, and only two blocks from the subway so I was happy. My friendship with Kila was growing every day, and I counted her among the closest of my friends. There were a few awkward moments for me. When she casually mentioned how hard it was to meet women, I realized that she was a lesbian, and wasn’t sure how to feel about it. On the other hand, she had never looked at me in any way other than friendly, so I quickly got over it. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, I just thought it might be uncomfortable if she started to be interested in me. Hell, I’d experimented with a couple women in my younger days– mostly just awkward kissing and fondling– and thought it was really erotic.
Another one of the awkward moments occurred when she revealed that she was sleeping with Edward. We were sitting in a little restaurant having Thai and drinks, and I was instantly confused and jealous. I saw him about once a week, when Kila and I would go to dinner, and though we weren’t friends, by any stretch of the imagination, I was getting to know him a little. He had a quick wit and a quick, if always tempered by bitterness, smile. Between us, there was always a little reservation, like a hesitancy or a tentativeness that I couldn’t explain, but we had Kila there to bridge the gap.
And, without even thinking about it, I had become extremely attracted to him. He was raw sexual power, so when she told me she was having sex with him, I was stunned by the envy I felt, and a little baffled by the idea.
She saw my confusion in my face, and laughed. ‘is there anything you wouldn’t do for your best friend?’ she asked me. I thought for a moment, then shook my head in a subtle, unsure way. ‘They split up. Last month. He met someone else, but he isn’t ready to move on. I figured, I’d be his rebound, that way, he can move on to this new one with a clean slate. Besides, he thinks the new one is relationship material, not fucking material.’
She tipped her head, and peered at me in a strange way. ‘He hurts. All the time. And he feels completely alone. If I can make him forget for an hour, if I can make him feel connected to another human being, I’ll do it. I have slept with men before you know. It isn’t that weird.’ I nodded, but was unsure. It seemed strange no matter what she said. He was her best friend. Sleeping with your best friend is never a good plan, and I said so.
‘I think we’ll be okay,’ she responded. ‘He doesn’t want me, and though the sex is incredible, I don’t really want him. It’s the liking chicks thing. I won’t fall in love with him.’
‘But what if he falls in love with you,’ I said feeling a twinge of regret at the idea.
‘He won’t. Trust me.’
We sat in silence for a little while, and I finally had to ask, ‘how incredible is it?’
Kila threw her head back and laughed out loud. ‘The best guy I’ve ever had, and better than a lot of the women.’ she said. ‘have you ever had sex with a woman?’ she asked me.
‘There were a couple of women I screwed around with back in college, but no.’
‘Well, the thing about women is, they’ve got the same equipment. They know what to do. It is usually much better, but he knows what he is doing,’ she lowered her voice, ‘he makes me come like a hot slot machine– I just keep paying out.’ As she said this, she got a dreamy look on her face. ‘That’s what I’ll miss.’
I was suddenly quiet, and she instantly picked up on my mood. She uncrossed her legs, and leaned across the table asking ‘what is it?’
‘I’ve never had an orgasm before,’ I admitted, feeling my face get hot.
‘Never?!’ she demanded, a little too loudly. The couple at the next table looked over at us crankily.
‘Well, never with another person. By myself, I usually can, but never with someone else.’
‘Why?’ she asked suspiciously, and it was my turn to put my drink down and sigh. I confessed to her. I told her the story I had never told another soul. And when I was done telling, in the vaguest way possible, she sat back. ‘So your boyfriend raped you.’ she stated, factually.
‘I don’t know about that. I mean he would never have even thought it was rape. He didn’t hold me down or anything.’ I insisted a lit
tle lamely.
‘Yeah, you said no, he said yes. That is rape. No wonder you can’t get off. The first guy you ever sleep with ends up raping you before you can figure out how to enjoy yourself. Talk about trust issues!’ She drummed her fingers on the table. ‘Did you really stay with him?’
‘For another six months.’ I answered.
‘You need to find someone you feel safe with. That’ll do it. You should think about going to bed with Eddie. That’s one thing he always is– safe.’
I looked at her as though she had lost her mind. ‘Kil,’ I said, ‘you are crazy. Have you forgotten that he is screwing you? And besides, he’s into someone else.’
‘How do you know it isn’t you?’ she asked in a challenging, amused way.
‘Because he barely talks to me, and he hardly looks twice at me,’ I answered promptly, but I thought of the times our eyes had met over dinners the three of us had shared. It was like planets colliding. His blue eyes, normally empty, would blaze to life and hit me in a physical way. It always felt like he was looking into me instead of at me. And there were a couple of times when I had caught him eyeing me, looking at me in that way men have. The look of ownership and pure lust. I shook it off, and shook my head. ‘no.’ I stated definitively.
‘Well, whatever, Sam. The two of you do have some powerful chemistry.’
The rest of our meal passed in more lighthearted talk, and though we laughed, and talked about all sorts of other things, I couldn’t get her question out of my head: ‘how do you know it isn’t you?’
Two weeks later, everything changed. Kila and I met for lunch at our favorite restaurant. She had Edward in tow, which seemed a bit odd since I knew that he worked through lunch almost every day. Kila had a troubled look on her face, and I was immediately worried.
‘God Kila, what’s wrong?’ I asked. I had never seen her looking like that. Normally strong and in control, she looked like she was ready to cry.
‘My brother is in the hospital, he had a heart attack. I have to catch a plane in two hours.’ she said despondently. Her face was a grotesque mask of pain, and I noticed that she was clinging to Edwards hand as though she might be lost without it.
She filled me in on what she knew, and we talked a bit about family, and what it was like to see their mortality. Edward sat at her side, with his arm around her, supporting her, lending her some of his strength. Then, she cracked a broken, half-smile and asked ‘can you do me a favor?’
‘What do you need? I’ll do whatever I can.’ I told her meaning every word. I hated to see her so afraid and off-kilter.
‘Eddie needs a date for this award thing he has to go to tonight. Can you go?’
‘Kila,’ he interrupted, ‘I don’t have to go.’
‘Of course you do,’ she said. ‘After all, you’re probably going to win.’
‘I don’t mind,’ I assured them. Realistically, I wasn’t doing much outside of working on the docomeentary. It certainly didn’t fill my time.
Edward looked a little wary, but said ‘okay, it’s at seven.’
I looked at Kila, and she winked. ‘Is there anything else I can do?’ I asked.
‘Water my plants, and feed my cat. Eddie will forget.’ She replied. She stood up, and said that she had to go pack some things and get to the airport.
Edward, with more emotion than I’d ever seen on his face before, stood up and said ‘I’ll go with you.’ Then, with hardly a glance at me, said ‘I’ll pick you up at six-thirty.’
‘Yeah, okay.’ I responded, suddenly feeling awkward, and intrusive. ‘Kila, call me if you need to talk.’ We parted in haste as my friend worriedly raced off with her solace at her side to get to the airport.
Sure enough, Edward did win the award that night. The name of the award doesn’t matter, but it was, nonetheless, a prestigious award for investigative journalism that brought major attention to him, and consequently to me as I stood nervously by his side. He had done a series on the abuses taking place in Iraqi prisons, which I remembered being very impressed by.
Dani
- 08.05.2021
- 13
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