Love's Wicked Craft Ch. 01

"For sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace."

- Romans 6:14

"A good act does not wash out the bad, nor a bad act the good. Each should have its own reward."

- George R.R. Martin

*

"I wish to offer myself up to you, to reconcile our past, to atone for what I'd done; to you."

Hannah Ansley was stunned still the instant she realized the voice of her first love, its sudden weight and the ghost substance of his words.

"Are you serious?" she spoke back to the voice mail; the sensation of blood pulsing at the base of her throat, "Parker; now, after how long?"

She had just entered her house, half past midnight, heaving a gym bag onto the kitchen table, along with her keys, her mind clouded, her skin still alert to the clammy texture of her sweats, her sex still tingling.

Hannah put the phone on speaker, and then set it down on the kitchen counter. She breathed heavily, tuned in to each breath, trying to wrap her head around this new thing, this echo.

"Has it really been fifteen years?" she asked the darkness of her kitchen.

Hannah, now thirty-one, , began to find the occasional gray in her thick copper blonde hair, which she'd pluck upon spotting. Otherwise, she looked and felt as good as she had when she was seventeen, before, during and after what she reflected on as the fragmentation by Parker.

"I know you'll have very strong reservations about returning my call." said Parker, his voice husky, wistfully sorrowful, "It's just that I was hoping I could talk it out with you; finally, and somehow resolve our past. There's, there's always something deep in me, nagging, something that keeps reminding me of the mistakes I've made, and-"

Hannah stood immobile during Parker's pause. Why now? she thought. How did he find me? The number's not registered. You never changed it dumb ass. Dad willing the house to you was a matter of public record. Remember? You're the one who never left town; wall flower, sweet and sour- Just shy of spent, Hannah swayed slightly by the space of counter where she'd placed the phone. She'd suddenly gone under a self hypnosis of reviewing memories she hadn't recalled for years. Across her mind's eye, there she was: heartily kissing Parker in Columbus Park, the two of them inseparable, belly laughing at even the most remotely humorous thing. There was the priceless shocked expression on his face the afternoon she'd pulled her mother's slip down in front of him, the time she'd given him head at the movies, the time he'd paid her back in the woods behind the house, the time she'd betrayed him, the time he'd broken up with her, the time he'd wanted her back and the time he couldn't have her.

"I think we can agree that there is absolutely no real reason why you should talk with me."

"You got that right hotshot."

"However, if you feel comfortable about talking- like- just call me. Take care Hannah."

Hannah drew a deep breath; the smell of Chase still in her nose. Mizz Skitters, the stray black smoke Maine Coon she'd taken in two years earlier, joined Hannah in the kitchen, purring as she walked a series of figures eight around and between her ankles, brushing her long bushy tail against Hannah's shins. Whiskey sour, buckwheat flour, she mused as the fall out of Parker's message settled like snow in the cracks of her long term memory. Suddenly, she screamed aloud, the sound of her frustration prompting Mr. Skitters to rush out of the room. I am not the same girl you messed around with back in high school Parker. Now there's the Chase, Chase and me. But what about you Park? Have you changed? I mean, we're all capable of it, aren't we?

Hannah waited a few seconds more before finally saving the message, and then proceeded to undress on the spot. She had forgotten how disappointed and angry he had made her, getting over him finally after months of lingering angst. But in that moment, twinges of regret, contempt and sadness tugged weakly in her gut, as she flung her musked sweats away with the toes of her left foot. An incredible build up of sexual tension had been on simmer since she'd left Chase. Now on the brink, Hannah could do nothing but yield. She felt the throb inside her sex, blood pulsing, relentless. This is okay, she convinced herself, too far over the edge to stop. It's fine. What Chase doesn't know won't hurt us, and the past shouldn't hurt us either.

"Oh God Chase," Hannah spoke aloud as she caressed the smooth slopes of her breasts and the perceptible curves of her ribs, "I want to eat your pussy so bad. Please; let me taste it. Hmm, haven't I been a good girl to you?"

Certain this time that she would not be preempted , Hannah sped down the hall to gather her props. She returned to the kitchen a moment later, with a towel, a water resistant cushion and a baby pool; four feet in diameter, a school of caricatured clown fish, dolphins, star fish and sea turtles parading around its circumference. Settling into the pool, towel folded beneath her back, cushion propped behind her head, legs raised and her pleasantly musked, brown haired, sex very near her face, Hannah licked the longest fingers of her right hand, and reached them to her vulva's clef.

As she massaged herself open, painting saliva on her unfolded rose, Hannah was realizing that her contempt for Parker had aged, weathered and felt more like a pleasant trickle rather than a surging flood. Her engorged clitoris exposed, Hannah proceeded to rub rapid fire vertical friction against it while she plunged the longest two fingers of her other hand to stroke the spongy patch of her G. Her recollection took her to the Parker fantasy she thought of through the times she'd loved and hated him: that sunny spring day in the woods behind his house, his naked brown skin, the swaying dapple shadows of branches and leaves along his flesh, his hard cock swelling inside her mouth, and then her crawling upon it, watching her pussy envelop it entirely, fucking him until the oblivion of completeness left her drooling.

Then there came the snap of a twig, a foot fall, and then another. Oh yes Chase, she thought. Please. Hannah could still smell her, taste her perfume in the corners of her mouth. As she closed her eyes and more quickly affected the friction of her fingers, she saw Parker disappear from beneath her, and turned to watch lovely Chase, glowing inside the light of a hundred candles that flanked her on either side: illuminating her magnificent eyes, the allure of her golden skin, the white honeysuckle orbs of her breasts and their mesmerizing pink nipples, her generous mouth and long fingers.

Hannah began to pant, the occasional breath catching in her throat, as she called to mind the scenes, the spectacular torment of her new lover's play and the succulent fruit that hung just out of her reach. Ivory tower, electric power, golden shower, please Chase; please. Half a moment more and Hannah began to tense, a seemingly pained grimace coming into her face. As the curl of her orgasmic wave hit, she grunted and began to cream thin arches of milky come, and then a clear cascade of urine drenched her breasts, neck and chin. Her mouth open wide, Hannah shuddered, panted and drank until the stream no longer reached her mouth. She lowered her legs, and let Her body finally go limp. In the ensuing silence of her afterglow, Mr. Skitters meowed plaintively from the kitchen doorway. Hannah, comforted in the knowledge that so precious few knew her darkest, most secret desires, took a long, relaxed, breath through her nose; and exhaled.

"I don't think you should call him." insisted Catherine, "He's right. You don't owe him a damn thing."

It was the following morning, and they had arranged to meet at Lenny's, on the Silus Dean highway. Catherine Wisneuski, pleasant, plainly pastel and generally aloof, had been Hannah's friend since the sixth grade. It wasn't a complicated relationship. They shared in each other's joys and sorrows. Hannah was Catherine's barometer for what the world offered in indulgences and Catherine showed Hannah how to conduct herself politely through a world that functioned through convention. The one cried on the other's shoulders when the need arose or treated her like shit when no one else was around to take it. Hannah's truth was that everyone was bound to hurt you, and it was Catherine's truth that one had to stick with the other that was worth suffering for.

"You're right." was Hannah's answer as she poured a cascade of syrup on her stack of four banana pancakes, "I owe him nothing."

"Right." agreed Catherine as "she took one of Hannah's sausage links and added it to her own plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and home fries.

"but." said Hannah as she held a fork full of dripping pancake aloft.

"But what!" asked Catherine, her mouth half full with scrambled egg, her brow furrowed, "But nothing."

She swallowed quickly, and then cleared her throat.

"Hannah, honey, the only possible reason for you to entertain him is for the sake of helping him to absolve himself, which we agree he doesn't deserve, or to possibly use the man for sex: or to make him pay, some how, for what he did to you."

Actually, thought Hannah, as she took two more mouthfuls of her breakfast, I was thinking about making both happen. But, Catherine knew her friend too long, too well, and so Hannah's eyes did, once met with her good friend's, betray her. Hannah could do nothing but look away from Catherine's "you lying sack of shit" stare.

"You are insane." accused Catherine, "What- How- What if he tries to hurt you? How will you be safe!?"

"Chase will be there."

Catherine studied Hannah's eyes for half a moment. She wasn't sure how to feel about her friend's new pastime. As even as Hannah's temperament was lately, Catherine sensed there was something still unsaid, the if, and or but that Hannah had yet to utter. Catherine, not necessarily an innocent bystander to the evolution of Hannah's bisexuality, was still no less surprised to hear that she had started a relationship with another woman after a long dry spell, punctuated with the occasional series of dates with only two or three men. Presently, Catherine propped her head on her free hand, and cast her eyes down to her plate.

"Hannah," she spoke softly, "I was there the last time, and Parker nearly killed us both. What difference would this; Chase person make?"

"Chase will make a mockery of him." Hannah hissed as the waitress approached with more coffee, "Chase will make him beg for mercy and then beg for more wrath."

The waitress appeared, refilled their mugs and asked about their meals. Hannah drove her fork aimlessly through her pancakes. Catherine demurely wiped her mouth and nodded to the waitress.

"Wrath?" Catherine intoned after the waitress moved on, "Mercy? You know what? The less I know, the better."

Hannah peered up from her pancakes, a wounded expression softening her features. From beneath looping bangs of chestnut hair, Catherine assessed the look from her own remarkably luminous hazel eyes, their shape betraying her mother's Icelandic lineage. They ate in silence for a time before Hannah began to mutter; her chain of words getting gradually louder.

"baby shower, water tower, solar power, witching hour, pussies cower-"

"Hannah!?!"

"What?"

"We don't do that stim in public."

"You're right Cat. We don't do that stim in public. How's your breakfast?"

"Fine, thank you."

Their silence resumed while small talk chit chat, glass tink, dish clack and silverware clanged around them.

"Does she love you?" Catherine heard herself ask.

Hannah looked sidelong at her friend, and then raised an eye brow. A second later, she shrugged and took another mouthful of pancake.

"It's you that loves me." Hannah chose to say, then smiled broadly.

Hannah hoped Catherine would feel less angry, but it only elicited another cold stare. The smile faded and fell; though a ghost of it lingered around Hannah's lips.

"Do you remember when we used to jill off together?" was the next thing Hannah chose to say.

Catherine quickly scanned the tables immediately around them, her complexion reddening with the same urgency.

"You're going to bring that up too? Jesus Han; what is up with you!"

"Why did we stop?"

Catherine watched the wounded look reappear on Hannah's face. Sighing, she looked into her bowl of buttered grits.

"Because we got too old," Catherine muttered, "Maybe; because you, we, started talking about boys?"

"Yeah, but that didn't mean I stopped liking masturbating with you."

"Oh my God. Okay, and it also didn't mean that I continued liking it enough; to continue. Please lower your voice. You know what? Never mind. Let's just drop it."

Hannah's cell, which she'd laid on the table beside the sugar caddy, suddenly jingled the arrival of a text. She leaned toward the phone, opened the message and read. Catherine, still befuddled by Hannah's sudden mention of their mutual masturbation, looked on as Hannah's face flushed. She thought she seemed suddenly apprehensive, maybe even a little fearful.

"So Parker's got your cell number too?" asked Catherine, suddenly not shy about how full her mouth was, "That's nice. I always wanted my very own stalker. Or, is that Chase writing you sweet nothings?"

"Whatever Cat." said Hannah before dropping her fork, wiping her mouth and grabbing her cell and purse, "I'll be right back."

Hannah locked herself inside one of the ladies room stalls and opened the text message again.

So that's your old buddy Cat, was how the message began. She might have a sex life if she lost a few pounds and did something with her hair. Hell, I might even do her.

Where are you, was what Hannah typed back.

No where that you can see me, so don't look. Now, my lovely little girl, take that remote control vibrator I gave you last night and insert it into your special place.

Not here, not now, please?

Yes here. Yes now or else the cat will come out of the bag and scratch you in front of your little friend; Cat. Oh my goodness, I am so funny. Now do it Hannah, and never argue with me again.

Yes mistress.

Good. Write me when you've done as I've told you.

Hannah muttered mild curses under her breath as she tucked the phone into her bag and pulled out the slick white vibe. She then placed her bag onto the back of the toilet, and then began to open the fly of her jeans. In spite of her reservation, Hannah's sex yielded quite easily, and the vibe was as good as in.

"I am now a new me," Hannah whispered as she put herself back together, and then retrieved her cell. "And I can become more, go beyond the new me. Just you watch."

I'm ready mistress.

Good. Now get back to your booth, and don't you dare try to scope me out. Go.

"Are you okay?" asked Catherine as Hannah took her seat.

"I am just peachy. Are you finish yet? Let's get out of here."

"What's your hurry Han? Oh, sorry: maybe you need to be somewhere. A few more bites and I'll be done."

As Hannah glowered at Catherine, the first wave of Chase's control hither, and startled her to attention. At first, she wondered if Catherine could hear the vibe. Then second, she realized that her eyes had closed. Hannah felt her self becoming steadily wetter with each of Chase's variation of the vibe's speed.

"Hannah, are you okay?" repeated Catherine as the waitress dropped off their check.

"I'm fine." Hannah sang softly as the vibe's speed rose again.

"You look like your falling asleep."

"It's the pancakes." sighed Hannah, "They always make me sleepy.

She knew it was one of Chase's tests, her evaluation of Hannah's own self control, her ability to remain calm in the face of exposure. It was an important lesson, valuable in that it meant that she was that much closer to coming into her own.

"Do you remember our prom, and how we danced most of the night away with each other because our dates invited us just to see how Parker would react to our being there?"

"Man, you know you are full of regretful memories today. Please don't remind me. God, why did high school have to suck so bad? And I liked that asshole who invited me too. What was his name?"

"Gordon, I think. You were so sick that night in the hotel, and I couldn't stop laughing as I held your hair back from falling into the toilet bowl."

"I asked you not to remind me."

"Sorry. God, faster is definitely better."

"What is that supposed to mean?" asked Catherine between spoonfuls of grits.

"Nothing," Hannah sighed as she rode the crest of a small orgasm, "I was just thinking about, thinking about the ocean."

"The ocean?" Catherine laughed, "What about it?"

"The ocean is like a secret or maybe the secret is like the ocean, with waves and ripples and swells and alternating currents on top, with rip tides and devastating undertows threatening sometimes just below the surface."

"That's cute Han. And what's your secret?"

"Do you really want to know?"

Hannah clenched her thighs tightly as the waitress strolled up to take their dishes. The woman raised an eyebrow as she noticed Hannah's position and her reddening cheeks and neck. I could blow it all right now, thought Hannah as the waitress left and as Catherine's gaze turned into something more suspicious. Yes; I could turn Cat or maybe even long lost Parker into my own little; side project.

"What my secret is, Hannah resumed as a second thigh muted orgasm throbbed inside the vault of her sex, "Do you want to know what it is?"

Catherine shrugged, scanned the most immediate faces, and then met Hannah's glazing eyes.

"In the little girl's room, I put a wireless bullet into my pussy."

Hannah grinned then as she watched Catherine's mouth go agape and her eyes wide. Once again, she scanned the patrons in their surrounding booths, before returning her eyes to Hannah's, her expression evolving into a lighter shade of amused.

"This is quite possibly the most insane thing you have ever done in my presence. Catherine hissed, leveling her stare, "I just assumed you two had more between you than a couple of watch batteries to make you happy. Oh, and since you're so sexy tough, I'm going to watch you go up and pay the bill!"

Hannah sat still for a few seconds as Catherine rose from her side of the booth. Then, she stood aside and waited for Hannah to get on her feet. She did eventually, and Catherine watched as her friend stepped into line at the register, and saw that if anyone else was paying attention, they could see that she was gently rocking her hips to some slow inner rhythm. When it was Hannah's turn to pay, she smiled broadly at the elder cashier, who responded in kind. Hannah then took her change, and swaggered back to the booth she and Catherine had occupied, and then lazily brushed her hair back before finally leaving a tip. She strolled back to Catherine and stopped beside her. A sudden rush of screeches and remonstrations came tumbling into the restaurant, and a bedraggled pair of parents herded their five little ones to the "Please Wait to be seated" sign.

"Ready?" Hannah asked, smiling, her hips still grinding slightly.

Catherine was livid. Hannah took the moment to hold her gaze, to stand her slippery, sloping, ground, and realize the plain beauty of Catherine's narrowly slanted brimming dark hazel eyes. She was a natural brunette that never experimented away from her usual shoulder length cut or body wave style, but she always dressed well, in muted soft burgundies, maroons, dark yellows and browns. Today was actually purple for her, violet stretch jeans, with a spacious lavender sweater and gently worn brown loafers. Catherine never dressed sexy, because she was far too self conscious about the weight around her middle she never seemed able to lose. Hannah had expressed to her best friend often enough that the style she had developed for herself did in deed make her attractive, and as genuine as Hannah's feelings were about the matter, Catherine would never once buy it because she could never muster enough confidence to take the risk of wearing something a little more revealing or provocative. She's not fat, thought Hannah as Catherine suddenly turned on her heels and walked out the door, just a little round bellied, a little round assed, and a little round assed is a good thing. I bet she'd look pretty good in, let's see: a little spandex, a little fishnet? Hmm. Noticing that Catherine's anger had quickened her step, Hannah found that she had to pick up her pace in order to have some last word before they parted company.