Epiphany One

"Drinking isn't going to fill this empty space" thought Maxine disconsolately. Her mind, still starkly etched with the black despair that had shrouded her since yesterday, wandered from the dinginess of the bar in which she sat. Slow drowsy blues music filtered through cheap speakers above the bar, settling over her straight bourbon like a spider's web. Thick cigar smoke drifted in a hazy cloud past the faded Corona neon sign.

Maxine thought back to yesterday, walking through the lush gardens near her home, revelling in the sunshine. Day empty, she had planned to do nothing but enjoy herself until Simon, her boyfriend, came home from work.

She saw a couple, kissing passionately on a park bench, their kisses filled with the urgency of new love. With a wistful smile, she'd walked closer, remembering when she and Simon had been caught up in that empassioned yearning for each other. She looked back, watching their frantic caresses, and pulled out her mobile phone, just to call Simon and tell him how much she loved him.

As she held the ringing phone to her ear, a phone rang nearby. She stopped, listening to the tone as it screamed its shrill call. It was coming from the man on the bench's phone, and she watched as he grabbed it impatiently.

He held it to his ear, and said "Hello?"

She felt sick to the stomach, like a knife twisted against the bones of her chest. There was no mistaking that she'd heard his voice from the phone as well. Her mind couldn't deny that it was Simon she'd seen kissing the girl on the bench. The bastard.

"Look up." she'd said, voice a dead tone.

And he'd looked up, seeing her instantly. His eyes widened in surprise, a shocked expression that was almost cartoonishly amusing. He'd opened his mouth to explain, but by then she was running, tears streaming down her face.

And now she was here, composed but fragile as the frequent sips of liquor burned her tongue. There was no way she was going home tp Simon, and her eyes, puffy from crying, ached with the pain of her sorrow. A shadow fell over her, and without looking up, she held up her near empty glass for a refill.

"How about an ear instead of a drink?" she heard a man's voice say.

She looked up, confused that the old bartender could have such a strong, young voice. Instead of the grizzled, porty man who'd served her all night, a young man stood there, his expression a mixture of reserve and compassion. The gold light of the beer sign shone off the ring in his eyebrow. She tried to snap, but was too tired. "Why would I want an ear?"

"Well, " he said with a chuckle, "I could give you a foot, but it's not as good a listener as my ear."

She smiled, taking a closer look at him. He couldn't have been more than about twenty-three, with blonde-dyed hair and soft brown eyes. The ring in his eyebrow shone with the barlight, and the black T-shirt he wore didn't cover the black tendrils of a tattoo, crawling out from under his sleeve.

"Well, I don't really want to talk about it. It's pretty personal."

He shrugs, still holding the enigmatic smile. "Okay, okay. But I don't think you should drink alone. No one drinks alone in Christov's bar!" he said the last sentence with his arms raised, as if delivering a biblical proclamation.

She tried to stay sad, but his good humour was infectious. He lifted the partition a few feet from her, and slipped under it with practised ease. Grabbing a bottle of Jim Beam, he poured her a fresh drink, then filled a tall glass with bourbon and coke for himself.

"Shouldn't you be working the bar?" she asked, a little surprised by this sudden attention.

"No, Jon's back now." he gestured with his head toward the end of the bar, and she saw the orignal barman serving the other drinkers at the bar.

"Tell me, "she smiled " why did you call this Christov's bar? I've always known this place as Jimmy Blues, and I've been coming here for a year."

He laughed, his face erupting in mirth. "Oh, this is Jimmy Blues, but the owner's name is Christov."

"That's a weird name for the owner of a blues bar."

"Well, I think it suits him. By the way, what's your name?"

"Maxine, but everyone calls me Max. And you?"

"Guess."

She frowned, looking at him carefully. "Harold Bathwater III."

His laugh filled the room, rising above the smoke and music. She surprised herself by laughing along with him, feeling his eyes on her in warm appraisal.

Just then, the old barman ambled over to their end of the bar. "Excuse me Chris, but we've got a problem."

"Sure, no worries Jon." He turned to her and smiled. "Don't run away please, Max. I'll be right back."

She stared after him as he followed Jon to a table in the back, where some young guys were too drunk to be quiet. They joked and shouted at other customers, and when Chris wandered over, they greeted him with alcoholic familiarity.

He sat down with them, and spoke so quietly that his voice was lost in the music. The young guys listened, then, almost like a flock of birds, sculled their drinks, grabbed their jackets and wandered out, calling out their goodbyes.

Chris followed them as far as Maxine's seat, then waved as they left. He sat down again, his soft brown eyes fixing on her again.

She tried to sound casual. "What was that about?"

"I told them I'd give then free drinks next time if they went home now. Bad for business to let them bother the other customers."

"So you're Christov?" she asked, surprised again.

His smile was tinged with modesty. "For you, just Chris."

He took a long sip of his bourbon and coke, lit a cigarette with a shiny silver Zippo, and looked at her, eyes sparkling with interest.

And so she told him about Simon, starting off hesitantly, then more confident as she saw compassion bloom in his eyes. He stayed silent while she spoke, smoking quietly, only reaching out to touch her hand when her eyes began welling up with tears.

When she had finished, she was surprised to find that she had curled her fingers into his, as if holding hands with a stranger was the most natural thing in the world. She thought to pull away, but she liked the warm security of his touch.

He blew a long stream of smoke from his nostrils, and smiled gently. "So what are you going to do?"

She hung her head. "I don't know. I love him, but I can't forgive that. Why? What do you think I should do?"

He laughed ruefully. "I can't give advice any more than I can take it. But Max, follow your heart. It's the best navigator you've got."

She smiled at him, feeling suddenly very drunk from all the bourbon. "What if my heart wanted to kiss you?"

Halfway through taking a sip, he coughed with surprise. She could tell he hadn't been expecting that. Composing himself, he tried to hide behind a smile. "I'd say that you would have kissed me by now."

Without a word, she leaned forward, pressing her soft lips against his in a tender kiss. He tasted of sweet bourbon and cigarettes,but she still kissed him, her mouth opening as the kiss became deeper.

His hands came up to cup her face, and he kissed her back, his lips forceful but not painful.

In a flash, she was in his arms, her body sheltered in his embrace. Her fingers trailed up and down his back, and his hand tangled in her silky hair. He broke the kiss with a soft chuckle.

"Is that what your heart wants?"

Not trusting herself to speak, she picked up her wrinkled coat and handbag. She saw alarm in his eyes, and reached for his hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

"My heart wants more. Where do you live, Chris?"

He gestured towards the back of the bar, where a set of stairs led upwards. "Upstairs."

She pulled him towards the stairs, enjoying the feeling of being in charge again. He walked behind her, ignoring the glances of the regulars as he passed.

She walked up the stairs, stopping when she reached the landing above. His place was sparse, yet well-furnished. She turned to embrace him as he stepped onto the landing behind her.

His lips pressed their warmth into her throat, and she felt the thrill of his kiss in her spine. Her body responded to his touch, arousal creeping along her veins. Pressing her body against his, she could tell he was being affected too.

She pulled his head from her neck, and fastened her lips to his, her tongue thrusting into his mouth. His arms wrapped around her. The feel of his kisses was dizzying., and the bulge in his pants was pressing into her groin, exciting her even more.

She slipped her hand between their bodies, running her fingers over the swollen mass of thick, hardened flesh beneath his faded jeans. His breathing quickened at her touch, and he kissed her with renewed vigour.

She pulled away from him, and lifted her blouse over her head in one smooth, fluid motion. Her breasts sprang into view, encased in a white, lacy bra. Throwing her shirt to the floor, she took his hand, placing it on her creamy, soft breast.

"Touch me."

He stared down at her chest, his hand roaming the smooth curve of her body. Kneading her supple flesh, he twisted her nipple gently in his fingers, a look of childlike delight on his face. She moaned with the rising tide of sensation in her belly.

With a smile, he stepped closer to her again, his hand reaching behind her. Kissing her again, his fingers unsnapping the hooks of her bra. Sliding the straps off her shoulders, he pulled the flimsy garment off her body. Her breasts popped free, standing proudly from the flat plain of skin between her shoulders and her waist. With a moan of joy, he bent his head to her pink, hard nipple, taking it into his mouth.

She gasped at the touch of his warm, slippery tongue. He nibbled at her, his tongue gently circling her engorged flesh. He sucked her nipple, holding her trembling body to his hungry mouth. He moved to her other breast, one hand cupping it while the other ran across her buttocks. The molten haven of his mouth washed her in sensuous delight, and her eyes closed as she bathed in the sensations. She felt freed by his touch.

He kissed her navel, his mouth trailing down her belly. Reaching the waistband of her jeans, he pressed his mouth to her crotch through the fabric, drinking in the sweet aroma of her arousal. His fingers deftly unbuttoned her fly, unzipping her jeans.

Drawing her pants over her hips, he pulled them down to her ankles, helping when she stepped out of them. Pushing them aside, he kissed the white cotton covered area of her pubic bone, feeling her downy pubic hair under her panties. She reached down to his head, pushing his face lower until his lips pressed against the damp cotton between her thighs. Pushing a finger beneath the elastic of her underwear, he gently stroked her moist skin, rubbing her sensitive, erect clitoris with one fingertip. Her body tensed at his touch.

She felt her body warm to his touch. The moisture between her thighs spread as his rubbing continued. She pushed her own fingers into her panties, forcing them down her thighs and exposing the shadowy curls of her groin.

He pulled her underwear off her legs, then stood again. The night air caressed her nakedness, and she felt more drenched by her arousal than ever before. His kiss, soft yet filled with unrestrained passion, sent her spinning into a heavenly cloud of sensation. She kissed him with undistilled desire, tongue exploring his mouth. His fingers were warm on her ass, and the rough material of his jeans brushed her pubic hair.

She reached down, grabbing the edge of his shirt, and lifted it above his head. He lifted his arms from her body to let her draw his shirt from his body. Dropping the useless garment, her hands went to his crotch, unzipping his fly. Pushing her hand inside his pants, she felt his breathing quicken as her fingers wrapped around the thick, pulsing cylinder of flesh between his legs.

She drew it into view, looking down on the sight of her slim, girlish hand cradling the throbbing length of him. Straight and tingling with erectness, it filled her palm, soft skinned and near-bursting with readiness.

Her body reacted without conscious thought, her arousal in command now. She dropped to her knees, staring at his erection with a rapt expression of wonder. She slid her hand along its length as if stroking an animal squealing with joy as it jumped reflexively. "Oh my God' she breathed, then opened her mouth, taking the purple tip inside.

His head rolled back as she teased him. Her smooth tongue explored every crevasse and inch of him, revelling in the velvety smooth feeling in her mouth. The feeling of his thickened, tender manhood, gently stimulated by her mouth and hand, sent another wave of sexual excitement rushing to her loins.

Suddenly, he backed away, withdrawing from her mouth. She moaned involuntarily at his departure, trying to stand. His hand rested on her shoulder, and she stayed kneeling as he walked behind her.

She felt the press of his chest against her back, and leaned forward, raising her ass to the air. His hands gripped her hips, and she felt the insistent prod of his thick erection against her tender, moist lips.

Arching her back, she pushed back, her body smoothly enveloping his full length inside her. His gasp of pleasured surprise was lost in her throaty moan of erotic desire. His flesh burned a trail of hot lusty sensation through the inner walls of her body, every inch of his hardened flesh touching her. She shuddered, moaning with the intensity of the moment.

He was fully inside her, his hips resting against the smooth, rounded globes of her buttocks. The warmth and tightness of her slippery canal drove him to heights of ecstasy, and he began thrusting, gentle yet determined as he moved within her.

Instantly, she felt her body go into overdrive. Her hands and feet clenched as white hot pleasure exploded in her belly, running down her silky smooth limbs and bursting from her fingertips. Her body, spasming and convulsing, squeezed him from the inside. He kept thrusting, not giving her a moment’s respite until he felt her orgasm peak. Her body froze in a long, drawn out arch of tensed muscle, and he forced himself as deep as possible, impaling her.