Tuesday, February 12, 2013
Continued from “The Heaviness of Being"
She did come. Hiko left early complaining of headaches and the sleeve boys, well pleased with their tatts had left. Colin scooping up bed liners and inserting them into the dryer presented a picture of domesticity as Melissa cautiously knocked at the front door.
“Just a sec,” He’s a little embarrassed being caught loading a washing machine. Burley bloke that he is, but she’s impressed that he even knows how to operate one.
She looks amazing. Not knowing where the night will take them, she’s understated in a little black dress. Appropriately clinging but not too short. Her wonderful tanned shoulders almost hidden by slit sleeves. She chose kitten heels in case a walk was required. It’s Darlinghurst after all and the pavements are rough. Besides, she doesn’t like the crooked way women walk in heels too high to handle. He bundles linen into the front loader and starts the cycle before removing the bolt on the door. The moment, much to his surprise, is comfortable to say the least. She leans forward and kisses him on the cheek leaving light glossed lips upon his skin.
“Hey…so sorry about not being able to meet you earlier. Hiko isn’t well.”
She isn’t perturbed. He looks even more handsome in the low light.
“That’s fine. I always wondered what all these things were.”
She walks behind him from the door, tinkering with items laid neatly in preparation for the next day’s work. Smooths the white linen on the backs of chairs and raises her eyes to the ceiling.
“Not sure what you’ll find up there,” he says. He notices things about her. She’s observant, curious and gorgeous. “You look amazing. Let me go change and we’ll work out where to go.”
“I’m happy staying here.” She removes a bottle of wine and two glasses from an oversized shoulder bag.
“It’s cold.” She shouts toward the now steaming bathroom.
He smiles as he undresses to shower. “Back in a few. Put the CD player on if you like.”
She can hear the rush of the shower and sees the steam emanating beneath the back room door. She doesn’t see him scrub the grime of the day from his body, shaving in the shower, washing his hair with fruit essence shampoo. Deliberating in front of the mirror.
She plugs her iPod into the sound system and fills the parlour with “Sia – Breathe Me” on repeat. Not his taste in music but he likes it. It gives him an insight into her possible fragility but in all seriousness, she just likes the song.
She opens the wine and pours, not too much, not too little and ventures into the third cubicle on the right. Sits cross-legged and provocatively until he emerges from the bathroom. Clean jeans and a lithe body. He’s shirtless.
“Oops, left it hanging in the locker,” he walks to retrieve it. He honestly want’s to cover up the tattoo on his pectoral.
“Don’t…” she coos, “Come have a drink.”
They clink, they sip, they small talk. He traces his fingers across her décolletage. “What do you see in someone like me?”
“Someone I’ve never known. Someone different, exciting. Rough on the outside but gentle on the inside. Col, you’re fine. You’re perfect.”
Lips meet and glasses are blindly laid on the utility table beside the massage bed.He’s hesitant. It’s now or never, but he’s not one to take advantage on the first date. Although technically, they’ve been talking and in touch for over a week now. Just never….
He’s not a sporting man but he knows the term ‘Drop back and punt’. His inner devil is telling him to go for it. His inner angel to wait. In the end, it’s Melissa who makes the decision, unbuttoning his jeans as his hand slides inside a willing thigh.
It’s been a long time since he’s been with a woman but she’s reassuring, soft. Her skin is olive and responsive. He loves the feel of goosebumps as she reclines. He loves the feel of her as her fingers gently dress him with protection. He loves pretty much everything about her, the sound of her zip descending, her breath shortening, her moans letting him know that he’s doing things right.
The bed is tight and narrow as she slides the dress over her head. His jeans already lie in a sad discarded heap on the newly polished boards. She manoeuvres above him, her legs outside his and kisses the tattoo above his pectoral muscle.
“You really are an artist.” She whispers as his hand touches between her thighs and elicits a willing sigh.
She raises her head, blonde curls retreat and lay soft upon the nape of her neck as she bites the left side of her lip and lowers herself onto him. Both exude the smallest of sounds but the greatest of pleasure. She looks wonderful, she tastes wonderful, she feels wonderful. He wonders what he did to deserve this.
The first time they had sex wasn’t quite the way he’d planned it but he couldn’t have planned it so beautifully.
Colin continued to turn up at the veterinary clinic as fill-in for the vacationing resident tattooist. Each welcome from Mel more physical, closer. At one point she pulled him into the drug cupboard before he’d barely crossed the threshold between reception and surgery.
“Do you love me?” Almost a demand from the woman he’s increasingly adoring.
“Yes of course,” Always the precursor to her giving him fellatio.
The question came before the sex and he wondered if that’s what drove his emotions but he did, he does. She’s sweet and exciting and fearless and beautiful and yes, he loves her. But….does she love him.? She never said it. He’d never pushed it.
They partied late. She introduced him to her friends. He’d even spent Thanksgiving with her family. A new experience for an orphaned boy and jilted lover. It was nice. Her family were nice. Friendly, open, funny. Yes he loved her. He told her he loved her. He’d drawn back, then taken the punt and scored a goal but did she love him? He wasn’t sure.
“Why do you have such doubts?” Hiko quizzes on a regular basis.
“Because I’m unlovable”
“Bullsheeet” Hiko is emphatic, “You a good man Colin Weckwerth, a good man, a good son. Why would this woman not love you?”
Colin’s insecurities have long laboured on his mind. He’s from the wrong side, the dark side and despite this he rises like a phoenix to each challenge. He needs reassurance, he needs to hear the words but she never said, “I love you.”
“You great artist,” Hiko, rarely forthcoming with compliments wants to bolster the lad, “You great psychologist. I hear you talk to clients. I hear you reason with them. I hear you encourage them. I hear you make them feel easy when they are scared. I hear you be funny with ladies, be strong with dickheads. You are worthy man. She loves you.”
As doubt gives way to being convinced, affirmation arrives.
“Mr Weckwerth?” The delivery boy looks directly at the Caucasian.
“Yes...” Hiko exercises a rare moment of humour.
“I’m Colin Weckwerth, what’s this?” The big man relieves the tiny delivery boy of his leviathan gift.
“For you sir, sign please.”
It’s a large brown cardboard carton. Very large. Colin rips the packing tape from its circumference to reveal a hamper of wine, cheese, pate and a note.
“You are amazing. I love you….Mel”
“What does it say?” There go the questions again. Hiko pushes the man away and tears the note from his hand. “See! I right. Sometimes you are a very stupid man. Very stupid man. She loves you.”
“She does….yep, I guess she does…”
Colin hits the iPod still linked into the Parlour’s sound system.
ExNow “You Make My Dreams” is exactly how he feels.
Posted for The Tenth Daughter of Memory “Drop Back and Punt”