Music To My Ears
- 1 year ago
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Music To My Ears Ch. 03 free porn video
Almost three months had gone by and Nicky wasn’t making much headway with Eric. She was getting a little upset with herself, and her report to Robert wasn’t exactly optimistic. Eric was still reluctant to talk much, which made it hard for her to propose any form of serious counselling or therapy for him. He would give her the cold shoulder and let her rambled away while he shut his mind off her. The invisible barrier he erected around himself was so thick, it was almost impossible to penetrate through, and he still drink. A few times she had quietly followed him after their usual session, and she had seen him went into the pub on his way home. After sometime, he came out staggering on his feet.
Eric, on his part had tried means and ways to get rid of her but without much success. He would be on his most vulgar, uncouth and unsightly behaviour like, belching loudly right in her face or even picking his nose during meals just to spite her, but she remained unruffled. Sometimes the things he did were so gross he couldn’t even stand it himself and yet Nicky had pretended she hadn’t noticed, which inflamed him even more. In the end, he grudgingly admitted defeat and changed his tactic by giving her the cold shoulder and indifferent mentality instead.
He was still as unkempt as ever and he stank. Nicky took it as a sign of rebellion against her counselling. Each time they met up, he would be in his gloves. The rest of him would be shabby and crumpled, but his gloves were always clean. He would wear either soft cotton gloves in dark brown, grey or black or in black or brown soft leather, but both the last finger pouch would be cut off and the opening stitched up neatly.
This evening, Nicky waited for Eric outside the factory as usual. When he finally came out Nicky suggested they stroll back to his apartment instead and maybe grab a bite along the way. What Nicky had in mind was to get his inner self to be in touch with the sight and sound of the city again. Hopefully something might catch his eye and spark an interest in him, which might bring him around in accepting her counselling wholeheartedly.
‘Whatever,’ Eric replied gruffly.
Along the way home, Nicky tried to coax him into talking music in general, but all he ever said was ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. Sometimes she pointed out to him some buskers playing a harmonica or a blind man strumming his guitar away at the street corners. Or she attempted to interest him in some street painters who were painting with their feet instead their hands. Eric just gave them flitting glances and commented nothing, but inwardly he was seething in silent fury. What the fuck did she expect him to do? Use his toes to play? he thought furiously.
They were about two blocks from his apartment when Nicky suddenly stopped walking. Eric wasn’t aware she lagged behind until she called after him.
‘Eric, could you hold on a second?’
Eric looked at his cheap watch and noticed they still had 15 minutes left. Damn! What now? He thought moodily.
Without waiting for Eric’s reply, Nicky walked across the street to a very young girl, probably about sixteen by the look of her. She was dressed up like a streetwalker standing there as though waiting for customers. The young girl seemed upset seeing Nicky there, and they were now engaged in conversation. Eric could see the young girl was shaking her head at Nicky. Just then a burly youth came out of the shadow and stepped up to them and pulled the young girl away from Nicky. Nicky tried to restrain the young girl from walking away with the youth but the youth turned around, and pointed his finger at Nicky’s face, as though to warn her not to follow them. Undeterred, Nicky chased after them. Hardly more than a few steps when the youth turned back suddenly, and punched Nicky on the jaw. Nicky lost her footing and fell on the pavement. The youth was about to drive a kick into Nicky’s fallen form when he felt someone grabbed him around the waist and slammed him so hard against the wall that he felt his breath was almost knocked off from him. It was a tall stranger and the tall stranger was pummelling the shit out of him now.
The burly youth was taken by surprise and tried to retaliate, but the tall stranger seemed to be possess by some kind of madness and was pounding on him viciously. All he could do was to try and blocked off the tall stranger’s slamming fists.
By then Nicky had regained her composure and pulled Eric off the struggling youth. Talking rapidly and loudly, she exclaimed, ‘It’s ok! It’s ok! I’m alright! Let him go!’
During the commotion the young girl had run off. Eric seemed to come to his senses when he dimly heard Nicky’s frantic shouts penetrated his raging mind, and abruptly let the youth loose. The burly youth pushed at him and ran off as fast as his legs could carry him away from the tall madman. Eric was heaving under his breath after his outbursts and turned back to look at Nicky. She looked rather shaken and was slightly breathless too. Under the bright streetlight he spotted a cut and blood on her lower lip.
‘You’re bleeding,’ Eric commented under his gasping breath, which was slowly returning to normal.
‘Am I?’ Nicky sounded startle, as she ran a finger along her lower lip then winced. ‘Ow! I AM bleeding. You don’t mind if we cut short our meeting? I need to get this fixed,’ as she pointed to her lower lip.
She began to walk off in the direction of the subway. She was about 5 meters away from Eric when she heard him call after her. ‘Do you want to come up to my place to get that fix?
Nicky turned back to look at him. ‘You sure about that? I mean I don’t want to be in your way. Our session was over ten minutes ago.’
‘Yeah, come on,’ Eric offered.
They walked the last two blocks to his apartment. His apartment was smaller than hers with just one bedroom, a kitchen, the living room area and a small dining area. All the furniture looked old, and as expected, his apartment was in a mess as though a hurricane had raced through it. His sofa was full of outdated newspaper, mainly the entertainment section, and dirty clothing. Empty whiskey bottles stood on the low coffee table. There was no evidence of any kind that indicated he had ever been a pianist.
Eric came out of the kitchen carrying some ice, some wet cotton and…surprisingly a clean towel. He grabbed the outdated newspapers and clothes off the sofa and threw them in a heap on the floor to make a space for Nicky. He took off his outer coat, which stank badly of fish smell and threw it on top of the pile of dirty clothing.
‘Sit here,’ commanded Eric.
Nicky took a seat as instructed and Eric sat on the low coffee table opposite her. He swabbed at the cut on her lower lip with the wet cotton to clean off the caked blood.
‘Ow!’ Nicky grimaced at the pain.
‘Do you always do that?’ asked Eric, as he continued to clean the wound.
‘Do what?’
‘Run after underage girls on the street,’ he commented in monotone.
‘Oh! I was counselling that girl and that…ow…guy must be her pimp,’ explained Nicky and winced again as Eric swabbed at her cut again.
Eric then put some ice into the clean towel and handed it to her.
‘Here, press it on the cut. The swelling will go down,’ he instructed.
‘Thank you.’ Nicky accepted the wrapped ice gratefully.
‘Aren’t you worried for your safety?’ Eric asked in a rather curious tone now.
‘Of course, but it’s the risk we have to take, though that was unexpected. I didn’t realize her pimp was there, ‘ replied Nicky as she gingerly held the towel wrapped in ice on her lower lip.
‘Why did you choose this profession?’ he inquired. Again there was that hint of curious tone. Not very obvious but nevertheless noticeably.
Nicky realized he WAS suddenly asking her questions now.
‘I’ve always wanted to help people,’ said Nicky honestly.
‘It doesn’t pay much, does it?’
he queried.
‘No…but the rewards are satisfying,’ Nicky answered with enthusiasm.
‘Rewards? What sort of rewards?’ His eyes light up in full curiosity.
‘Spiritually,’ declared Nicky.
‘Spiritually? You mean as in religious beliefs?’ He raised an eyebrow at her now.
Nicky noticed she had his undivided attention and proceeded to demonstrate to him by thumping a fist at her heart. ‘No…it’s here…’ then pointing at her temple, ‘and here…’
Crazy woman. Eric mused silently.
‘Are you done?’ asked Eric. His demeanour was no longer that of curious but back to indifferent now.
Nicky got his meaning. He was chasing her off. A signal that said that was the end of their conversation…for now.
‘Oh, err…yes, thanks again.’
She got up and moved to the door when Eric asked her to hold up. He went into his bedroom and came out holding a plastic bag and handed it to her. Nicky opened up the plastic bag and peered inside. It was her coat she had used to shield him from the rain when she had knocked him down about four and a half months back. She had forgotten all about it.
‘Oh! Gee…thank you,’ said an astonished Nicky.
Eric moved to the door and opened it for her. She walked past him and then stopped.
‘Can I ask you for a tiny favour?’ Nicky squinted her eyes hopefully at him.
Eric did not reply nor did he chase her off but seemed to be waiting for her to continue.
‘Err…will it be too much if I ask you to wash your clothes?’ said Nicky. Eric just stared at her but she didn’t miss that flicker in his eyes.
Nicky gave a shrug of her shoulders when he made no attempt to reply and walked out the door. She didn’t hear him close the door but could feel his eyes on her retreating back.
‘Catch a cab back. It’s not safe walking to the subway,’ he called.
Nicky turned around and broke into a quiet smile at him and turned back to walk down the stairs out to the street. She took his advice and hailed a cab. Just before she got into the cab she looked up at his building and saw he was standing by the window looking down at her. She got into the cab and went home.
* * * * *
She sat at her computer in her favourite extra large size tee shirt. At the side of the computer was a big mug of hot chocolate filled with marshmallows. She was in the process of typing out her report about Eric. ‘Client again demonstrated great concern for another individual’s safety when faced with a dangerous situation regardless of his own safety. However there was a strong desire in Client’s behaviour to hurt, as though to take revenge. Nevertheless, Client made an effort to open up and took the initiative to communicate, which was a very good sign. Will continue to monitor Client progress.’
Nicky felt very happy and satisfied but somewhat disturbed with today’s progress. Happy and satisfied because Eric had conversed more than usual. Disturbed because he seemed almost murderous, which wasn’t very good, but at least the punch sort of opened him up. She could at least afford a glimpse of Eric’s other side of his behaviour.
She got up and grabbed the plastic bag that contained her coat was. She took it out and noticed it was cleaned and pressed. Nicky was confident she was finally making way with Eric. Not a huge step, but it was good enough. The next step was to get him into group therapy for alcoholism. That might prove difficult, but she had to try anyway. If she could turn him around, his fans might be able to see some of his work again soon.
She returned to her workstation and faxed a copy of her report to Robert. She finished her hot chocolate and put on Eric’s first album then turned off the light and went to bed.
That night she had another erotic dream again. She dreamt of the man with very soul piercing deep ocean blue-green eyes made love to her again.
* * * * *
Eric felt perplexed with his own behaviour. Why did he run over to help her? Didn’t he want to get rid of the pesky nosy social worker? What was wrong with him? Just last week he even took her coat to the dry laundry. It was unintentional. He was rummaging through his overfilled laundry basket for something to wear when he pulled out a coat that was a few sizes too small for his frame. He realized that it had belonged to that nosy social worker. She must’ve used it to shield him from the rain when he had fainted. Yet what she had done tonight had let his guard down against her. He didn’t bear any of the animosity he previously felt towards her. Instead a kind of respect had surfaced and he had viewed her in a different light.
He looked around his apartment now as though he was seeing it for the first time. This would be the first time a woman had stepped into his apartment and he felt some sort of an embarrassment welled up in him. He was embarrassed because a woman as pretty as a picture like Nicky would willingly come up to his smelly and untidy place, and not once during her presence here did she commented about the shabbiness of his place, which he called home. Not that he was always like this. He used to be neat and tidy too until he was attack, until he started drinking so he could forget about his once beautiful past and his ugliness and his pain.
He surveyed his rat hole again and was suddenly seized by an overwhelming feeling to clean up the place, to make it more presentable in case the nosy pesky social worker was to come here again. He bent down to pick up an old newspaper, then another and another and stacked them up neatly before putting them outside his front door. He found some rags and began cleaning up the place. Four hours later, his tiny apartment looked different and smelt fresher. All his dirty clothes were tumbling away in detergent in the washing machine. It took him a while to operate it, as he had never used it before. Robert bought him the washer and dryer set despite his refusal. Robert had even set it up for him, but not once, had he used it. He would wear his outer clothing over and over again and if he was almost running out of clothes he would just rinse them under the tap and hang them up in the bathroom to dry, but oddly he would washed his underwear properly and hang them out the small balcony to dry instead. Dirty plates and cutleries were cleared from the sink and washed. He even found some fresh clean bed linen, which he never realized he had and changed the bed and pillows.
Then he went into the bathroom and looked at himself in the small wall mirror for the first time. He hadn’t bothered using it before but now as he stood staring at his reflection, he was shocked! He looked terrible! Was that how he had looked for the last four years or so? His dark ash blonde hair looked dirty, overly long and tangled. His beard and moustache was far too hairy and bushy. He smiled but he could hardly see his lips unless he opened his mouth. He opened his mouth wide, pushed his moustache up and beard away so he could examine his teeth. Still good. He still had a fetish for certain things like brushing and flossing his teeth diligently before going to bed, and every morning after he woke up. Unless he was so pissed drunk the night before that he forgot to do his usual dental hygiene and just flopped down the bed and snored away.
Now came the most difficult part, that was to face his ugliness, to see his scarred hands and fingers. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath to calm himself. He opened his eyes again and very slowly began to pull off his gloves one finger at a time. As his scarred hands came into view his heart began to beat faster. Not that he hadn’t seen his scarred hands before but tonight he wanted to examine them real close. He wanted to face his ugly, scarred and ‘pinkyless’ hands without hating them, without going into a fit. He turned his hands this way and that and slowly clasped them together then separated them again. He ran his fingers over the spot where both his pinkies used to be. He fle
xed each and every one of his fingers and felt some tight feelings around the joints but still manageable if he didn’t over flex them.
Next he picked up the pair of scissors, which he found in his drawer and gave it a few snipping motion. So far so good. He took another look at his unkempt self in the small mirror and then began to snip away his long hair. After a long while his fingers began to hurt but he gritted his teeth, and persisted on, and went to work on his beard and moustache.
Soon the bathroom sink was filled with unwanted hairs, and he dumped them into the toilet bowl to flush it down. When he was satisfied with his handiwork, he stepped under the hot shower for the first time in weeks. He couldn’t remember when was the last time he took a proper shower. He rarely shower and he smelt awful what with all the fish smell too. When you smelt bad and dressed shabbily, most people would leave you alone but certainly not the pesky nosy social worker. She didn’t really seem bothered with how bad he smelt or dressed but continued to meet him for their counselling.
Later, as he sat at his sofa holding a glass of whiskey and let his mind wander back to Nicky. She must be truly mad. Didn’t she realize how dangerous her situation was earlier? If he hadn’t been there the burly youth could have really beaten her up badly. He had to admire her though – small brave woman but definitely stupid. He wondered what Katrina would have done if she were in Nicky’s situation. She would probably scream her head off. Then he gave a short laugh. Katrina probably wouldn’t even be caught walking on the street in the first place. He remembered she was always in her metallic silver sporty Lexus wherever she went or he would be fetching her everywhere.
Shit! Why was he thinking about Katrina again? But then he noticed his heart didn’t constrict that much thinking about her. When he thought about Katrina, inadvertently he would think about Peter too. Part of him hated them both yet another part of him wished them a happy married life. Maybe Katrina was right to leave him. He was nothing anymore. If Katrina had stayed with him, would he have been able to provide her with the kind of happiness and love she wanted? He remembered his attitude towards her the first few months after the attack wasn’t pleasant either. She did try to endure his temper. It was surprising she could last six months with him. What really made him angry with her was, each time he tried to touch her, she would make an excuse to get away from him. He had tried making love to her but she wouldn’t bear it. It was as though he was filthy or some kind of a leper, and it shattered his heart when he saw Katrina and Peter in bed. That was really the final blow to his already low self-esteem.
Barely two years into her marriage, he heard from Robert that Katrina had gone into a private hospital for attempted suicide. Sometimes he wanted to call her to ask if she was happy with Peter but then he realized she was no longer his concern. She belonged with Peter not him anymore. He never held any real grudge against Katrina despite what she had done to him, betraying him and suing him unreasonably but Peter was another story.
He loved Peter like a real brother and they went through thick and thin. Whenever they got into trouble at the orphanage, Eric would take the rap. But Eric didn’t mind at all. Peter was his buddy, his best friend and confidante.
When he was eleven, a couple came to the orphanage in the hope of adopting a child. Since the couple was in their late forties, they were hoping for an adolescent. They saw Eric and immediately taken a liking to him and had wanted to adopt him. When Peter found out about it, he was very unhappy and pleaded with Eric not to leave him behind or else he would kill himself. Eric promised he would not leave him and together they ran away for a week before they were found. Eric was determined not to get adopted, and insisted if the couple was going to adopt him they had to adopt Peter too. In the end the couple did not take him or Peter but adopted another child instead.
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