Payback Ch. 02

Ciaran snorted. 'No, that wasn't how it was for Symantha and me. We'd just fight more. We could and would fight over how to cook pasta. Huge, screaming fights. 'You cunt', 'you bitch', 'fuck you', 'no fuck you'. The works.'

'Over pasta?' I asked doubtfully.

Ciaran gave me a rueful smile. 'Over everything.'

I finished arranging the flowers.

'They're beautiful,' I said. 'Thanks.'

He shrugged. 'I like you. This isn't just about sex, not for me. If I just wanted sex, I would've tried to find another girl to take care of me.'

'I know,' I agreed. 'I feel the same way. We talk too much for it just to be about sex, and the things we talk about are, well, 'important things', aren't they?'

'They are,' he agreed. 'We're both living atypical lives.'

'That's very true.'

He smiled at me. He had nice eyelashes, thick and dark, and they framed eyes there were gold and green and blue all mixed together. 'Let's go. I want to impress you.'

I laughed and blushed at the same time. 'I hope I don't let you down.'

'You won't.'

He had a nice car. It smelt nothing of pear, and was in immaculate condition, and I admired it in the way the men in my life seem to want me to admire their modes of transport, while thinking how similar he was to Angus in this respect, and how different in every other regard.

I've often been described as 'a bit weird', but if I was a 'bit' weird, then Ciaran was 'very' weird. Not in a bad way, but he was a peculiar type of human, dry and self-deprecating, and yet highly self aware. And honest, shocking honest, at times it was as if there were utterly no filter between his brain and his mouth.

He told me over dinner, when I asked why he'd modified a steak and three veg plate into just steak, no sauce, and mashed potatoes, that he had irritable bowel syndrome.

'I'm fine for a while, then it plays up again,' he said. 'I have aspirations of getting you into bed, and spending half an hour on the toilet shitting would be mess with that.'

'IBS is a very unsexy problem.'

'It is,' he agreed, waving his fork. 'Terrible. It's unsexy from every angle you look at it. That's the problem with human bodies, though; they rarely perform the way you want them to. I could've been a male model in another life.'

'Do you think that would have made you happier than you are now?'

'No, probably not. I'm out to dinner with you, and tomorrow the boys and I are going to Movie World. If I were a male model I'd probably be in the midst of a drug-fuelled orgy and tomorrow I'd be laying in bed coming down from my drug high. I wouldn't get to experience the unparalleled joy of waiting in line for forty-five minutes for a ride that at least one child will be terrified of, and the other will be bored by.'

'Good thing you got IBS instead of a six pack and seventeen inch biceps.'

'Exactly.' He gave me a pleased, cheeky grin. 'So, inquiring minds want to know; what are my chances of getting an invitation back to your place tonight?'

'No hotel tonight?'

'No, but I can book one if you prefer.'

'No, no, come back to my house,' I said. 'Do you want it to be like last time?'

'I'd love it to be that way some point again in the future, but not tonight. Tonight I want,' he said, pausing to reach over and trace his fingers along my cheek. 'Something more intimate.'

I nodded slowly. 'Of course.'

'Another time, if you'd be kind enough to humour me, I'd love a repeat of what we did last time,' Ciaran admitted. 'I was single too long. I have a lot of prostitute fantasies.'

He delivered his confession in such a matter-of-fact way that I couldn't help but laugh.

'You find it funny?' he guessed, his cheeks staining red.

'No, no, it's not the fantasy I find funny but the way you say it.'

'Oh.' He turned bright red. 'I have terrible social skills. Normally I just try and keep quiet, but I feel so comfortable around you, everything just comes out. It's getting fucking embarrassing isn't it?'

'Not embarrassing, just funny,' I corrected. 'How on earth did you manage to get in screaming fights with your ex? I can't imagine you getting angry.'

'Mm, she just annoyed the shit out of me,' he said. 'And she'd start the fights. I'd just react. I'm terrible once I'm provoked.'

'I can't imagine that.'

'Good. I'm hoping you'll never see it.'

I was nervous about taking him back to my place. I never took men back; it was either at their house, or in their hotel or on one occasion, in the back of their van. Never in my house, never in my bed. I'd shared that bed with Angus. It still had the indent from him on the right hand side, and the only other person who had ever been in it was Pearl. Pearl would often curl up and snooze in the saggy bit when she'd had a nightmare and didn't want to sleep in her own bed.

What if I couldn't relax? What if the only thing I could think of was Angus? I wasn't panicking as we drove back to my house, but I was certainly nervous and there was a lot on my mind.

'Park out on the street for now,' I said, as we approached my house. 'I'll get my car out of the garage and you can drive yours in.'

'Don't you have a double garage?'

'Yes, but it's still got Angus and Beau's motorbikes in it.'

'Beau is Pearl's father?'

'No, Beau was another foster child. Okay, pull up here. I'll move my car out.'

'No, no, I'll just park here,' he said. 'I'm not that precious that my car can't spent a few hours out on the street. I'll have to go home tonight.'

'Oh, yes,' I said. 'Movie World.'

'Movie World,' he agreed. 'Have I told you I'm one of those parents who tries to make amends for being away by spending ridiculous amounts of money on my kids when I'm at home?'

'No, but I won't judge you for it.'

'Good to hear,' he said. He parked his car and unbuckled his seat belt. 'Now that we're here, I have to ask; have you had a change of heart? No hard feelings if you have.'

'No, no, I want you to come in. I might be anxious, though. If I starfish it, don't hold it against me.'

'If you start starfishing it, I'll assume you're not enjoying it and stop,' he promised me. 'This time is for both of us.'

The more freedom and options a man allows me, the more willing I am to please him. Don't ask me to explain that, but if I'm offered a range of choices and I know my answer will be respected, I'll happily settle on the one that best pleases both of us. And the tension goes, I become less nervous and more relaxed.

Ciaran and I went inside and I put the kettle on. He started hunting through my cupboards, and I asked what he was doing.

'Finding mugs,' he said.

'Oh, above the microwave. Thanks.'

He found two mugs, set them down in front of me, and leant against the benchtop. I smiled nervously at him, and he responded by pulling me into his arms and hugging me.

'Sorry,' I apologised. 'I haven't had a man over here before.'

'But you want this?' he confirmed for the millionth time.

I nodded and leant my head against his chest. I could hear his heart beating. I wasn't the only one who was anxious, and who felt there was a lot riding on what happened next. A burst of laughter escaped my lips, though I tried desperately to stop it.

'What's funny, baby?' Ciaran asked. His tone was soft, and as he spoke, he ran his hands through my hair. 'Hmm?'

'Oh, it's embarrassing,' I admitted.

He laughed hoarsely. 'I'm hugging a woman who's trying to make me coffee and my dick's decided now's the time to get hard.'

I laughed again, nuzzled his neck and kissed his jaw. 'That's exactly what I was laughing at; how easy women have it when we're nervous. We can fake it.'

'Ouch, don't do that. I hate fake orgasms. It's the equivalent to saying 'you'll never get it right, so I'll pretend you are so your feelings don't get hurt'.' He picked me up and placed me on the benchtop. He moved in between my legs and kissed me. 'Baby, I want you to want me the way I want you.'

It was hard not to desire Ciaran when he kissed the way he did, held me closely enough to make me feel secure without feeling smothered, and smelt so divine. As we kissed, the kettle boiled and flicked off.

'Do you want tea?' he murmured in my ear.

I shook my head. 'No. You?'

'No.' He nuzzled my neck and ran his hands down my back and over my arse, leaving them to settle on my thighs. 'I want to make love to you.'

I slid off the bench and took his hand. 'Let's go to my room.'

We went to my room, a place that had once been sacred to Angus and me. It was our quiet place, our private space, and it had been off limits to our foster children unless it was a dire emergency. Pearl was the only one for whom the rules had been relaxed, but Pearl was young and female, and the others we'd had through our care had always been older, Indigenous males and none of them had ever viewed me as a mother.

I was an unrelated female, white, and undeserving of respect to most, but worse than that was Raf, who had fallen in love with me. That had scared Angus. He was wary around the boy, particularly when he grew into a man and the adoration only increased, not diminished. The rules had been strict; keep out of my bedroom, keep away from my wife, and if I catch you staring at her breasts once more I'll take you to task over it.

Ciaran closed the door behind us, even though we were the only ones in the house, and held my face in his hands.

'You're so beautiful, baby,' he murmured. 'I want you so much, I can't tell you how much I need you.'

'Take me. Please.'

He touched his lips to mine for a few, sweet, seconds. 'I had a vasectomy after Symantha fell pregnant a second time, but I also have condoms.'

'Use a condom. I've had unprotected sex with a dozen or so men, and I've never had a STD test.'

Ciaran traced his fingers down my cheek. 'No worries, baby. Are you still sleeping with other men?'

'I don't want to. Not anymore.'

'I don't want you to, either. I want you just for myself.' He led me to the bed and sat me on the edge. He sat alongside me and took off his socks and shoes. When he'd finished, he rested a hand on my thigh. 'Oh fuck, baby, I'm about to lose control. I want you so much.'

'Do it.'

'Are you sure? You seem nervous.'

'I am, but I want it. Please, just do it.'

He let out a small grunt and hoisted me up the bed, so I was lying on my back in the middle. He climbed on top of me and began to claw at my clothing, desperate to get me naked. I helped him remove my dress and bra, and laid back down again when he began to fondle and suck on my breasts. His rough hands moved over the tender flesh, stroking and squeezing and manipulating it, and the stimulation sent shockwaves through my body.

My fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. Ciaran laughed huskily as he stopped playing with my tits and slipped off his shirt. His jeans and trunks followed, leaving both of us naked save for my panties, which didn't stay on me much longer.

My lover's hazel eyes were gleaming as he covered my body with his. His kisses were deeper and more urgent and he was subconsciously grinding against my hip. When I reached down to feel his prick, he grabbed my hand and wrapped it around his cock. He gave it a few tugs, to show me what he wanted, then when he was satisfied I understood, he sucked hungrily on a nipple.

He stopped me after a minute or two, not because he wasn't enjoying it, but because there were bigger, better things he wanted to do. He rested his hand between my legs and kissed me again. His fingers caressed me, pushing aside my lips and then, within warning, he plunged them inside me. I gasped and ground down on him. My random men, my pick ups, gave me something that I wanted, but what I'd needed from them wasn't an orgasm. I realised I wanted to orgasm. I wanted to experience that intense, natural end to sex.

Ciaran bit my lower lip and stared into my eyes. He had me held tight; one arm around me as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of me. I wanted more. He knew it, I knew it. I tried to wriggle out of his grasp so I could get a condom and fuck him, but he shook his head.

'No, I want to hear you say it, baby,' he murmured.

'I want you,' I hissed urgently.

'You want what?'

'I want your cock inside me,' I replied, embarrassed by what he was asking me to acknowledge, but not too embarrassed to tell him. Desire trumped pride. I needed his prick.

He groaned and rolled on his back, pulling me on top of him. 'Get on. Get it in you.'

Only personal responsibility stopped me from doing as he requested.

'You need a condom,' I whispered.

'I've decided to take my chances. Unless you want one?'

'No, I'm all good.'

'Good,' he said.

He lined me up over his prick and pulled me down. I sank down onto him with a moan, grabbing my breasts and fondling them. I gave a small thrust, letting my clit drag against his pubic bone, and moaned again.

'Oh fuck, baby. That's it. That's the business,' he grunted.

I knew he'd want me to orgasm, so I chose a pace that suited me more than him and stuck to it. I worked my way steadfastly towards climax, knowing that it would take a while but confident I'd get there.

Ciaran laid back, entertaining himself with my breasts, first with his hands and then with his mouth. The latter put me into a surprisingly good position, and I ground down faster and harder. He kept sucking and nibbling my breasts, taking turns with each. They bounced around as I grew more excited.

I thought 'oh fuck, I'm going to come soon, this is actually going to happen'. It felt wonderful. He was so slim hipped compared to Angus, and many of the other men I'd been with, and the way he laid beneath me made it feel as if I were being given a gift. A second chance.

His cock moved in and out of me, as hard as steel and thoroughly lubricated. The better the sex, the wetter I became, and the sex was great. I groaned and twitched, not sure if I wanted to climax just yet or to enjoy the sensations for another couple of minutes.

Greed got the better of me. I let nature take over, and came hard. I squeezed Ciaran tight while grinding against him.

Then Ciaran came, right out of nowhere. There had been no sign it was nearing, and I think it caught even Ciaran by surprise because he let out a groan as he grabbed my hips and tried to shove his cock as far into me as possible.

'Oh baby,' he said, pulling me down for a kiss. 'Oh baby. That was amazing. Absolutely amazing.'

I couldn't have agreed more. I thought I'd feel guilty afterwards, and maybe even regret my orgasm, but I didn't. My only regret was that he couldn't stay the night.

2003

It wasn't until Angus and I had returned to Brisbane that we discovered the reason behind Rose's uncharacteristic outburst towards me. By the time we rode into town Angus and I had discussed the conversation I'd had with his mother several times, and he'd tried to question her about the incident, but she'd always fobbed him off. She was having a bad day, she'd tell him, or I'd read too much into what she was saying.

As it turned out, there was indeed an outside factor that had influenced her behaviour and that factor was her and my son's infertility.

Until Angus and I went away, outside of the man who we'd asked to donate sperm, our doctors and specialists, nobody knew we'd been trying for a baby. Nobody knew the reason there'd been no mini-Angus or mini-Helen was because it just wasn't bloody possible.

How could we possibly have told them? None of them knew what it was like to go from the early days of trying, where Angus would say 'I know you're going to be a great Mum' and I'd reply 'And you'll be a great father, I just know it' to the uncertainty about why a baby wasn't making an appearance. They didn't understand what it was like to grow desperate, then to grieve, and then to ultimately reach the odd sort of acceptance that Angus and I had made with our fate. How could we tell anyone that? Besides, there was the incident involving Buzz that really killed any desire Angus or I might have had to tell anyone.

Shortly after Angus and I had bought our house, we'd bought a puppy. Buzz was a small, Fox Terrier mix and he was born intent on escaping the confines of our yard. We took him to puppy school. We had him neutered. We walked him once, then twice, a day. We bought more toys than we could afford, and still he escaped.

We tried leaving him indoors during the day when we were out but he barked so much the neighbour's complained. Our yard became Fort Knox, and yet still Buzz found his way out. The neighbours would often drop him back at our house, but once or twice the council rangers found him, and we were forced to pay impoundment fines that left us eating pancakes and rice. It was hardest when we were repaying Peter's loan, but not any more fun when the debt was repaid.

Buzz was a lovely dog. He loved people, especially kids, and other dogs. His only weakness was cats. Despite them often being bigger than him, and most definitely nastier, he couldn't resist chasing them. When Angus and I were in the midst of IVF, Buzz escaped for the final time, chased a neighbour's cat, and was hit by a car.

When news of Buzz's passing got out, Angus' middle sister rolled her eyes and said it was a good thing that we didn't have children seeing we couldn't even look after a dog. I burst into tears, Angus uncharacteristically lost his temper and told his sister to shut her fucking face, and we went back home amidst people telling us it was silly to get so worked up over a pet. I wept for hours, curled up against my husband.

I knew Angus' father was angry about how his son had spoken to his sister. Graham had rung my husband that night to tell him that putting an animal above his sibling was preposterous, but rather than explain himself, Angus just accepted the rebuke without offering any explanation for his behaviour. Our infertility was our own, private, secret. Our own pain, not something we wanted to share or discuss.

It was therefore a complete shock when Auntie Rose asked, over tea and scones, if we were going to try IVF again now that our holiday was over.

'No,' Angus replied shortly. He reached for the jam. 'I missed your scones. Hez and I used to have to stop and find a place with a full kitchen every now and then so we could eat regular food. Funny how takeaway tastes so good normally, but you get sick of it when you don't have any other choices.'

'Remember when we tried to make spaghetti in that motel microwave in Hobart?' I asked my husband.

'Yeah, and we tried to microwave mince.' He pulled a face. 'That was fucking disgusting, but it was still better than another burger and chips.'

'You could have said something,' my mother-in-law said.

'Why?' Angus asked, intentionally misinterpreting her. 'I thought you hated cooking in the microwave?'

She folded her arms over her chest. 'Why didn't you tell me you couldn't have children?'

'Because it's none of your business,' Angus said.

'I just want to help!'

'We've had help,' Angus snapped. 'The only thing I want from you is for you to tell me how you know.'

'I went over to clean your house,' Auntie Rose said. 'There were papers in your drawers.'

'You snooped,' Angus accused.

'I'm your mother. I knew something was up. You should have said something.'

'It's not your business!'

Rose was upset, Angus was furious, and I was hurt and embarrassed at the thought of my private affairs having been rifled through.

'You should have had acupuncture,' Auntie Rose said. 'I heard that helps.'

'We tried for a baby for seven years,' Angus replied. 'We've tried everything. And I'm warning you now, you say one more word about this to us, or to anyone else, and we'll stop coming around. I'm not having you upset Helen.'