Payback Ch. 02

'Helen's not upset.'

I cast a sideways glance at my husband, imploring him to help.

'Leave her alone,' Angus told his Mum. 'Don't speak to her about this. Now, we can either talk about microwave cooking, or Hez and I are going home.'

We talked about microwave cooking.

Angus apologised profusely that night, but I waved aside his apology and pulled him into an embrace. I wanted to make love, not talk about children, or lack thereof, and Angus, once offered sex, never refused it.

We thought - or rather, hoped - that everyone would respect our desire not to discuss our fertility woes, but instead it seemed that everyone had an opinion. Had we tried traditional medicine or x, y or z culture? Had we tried to 'just relax'? Had we tried getting drunk and having sex?

Though well meaning, the questions and commentary reopened wounds, and we were forced to dodge, evade and explain ourselves over and over again. I suspect that's why when an Auntie of Angus' suggested we look at fostering, we said 'sure' rather than think up an excuse.

I can't explain why we did it, but Angus and I applied to become foster parents. Neither of us ever thought anyone would trust us with a kid. We'd already been down the route of applying to become adoptive parents, and that hadn't worked out, had it? We were too poor, Angus was too black, and we were both too uneducated.

The social worker who did our home inspection asked me why we wanted to foster.

'I don't know,' I admitted. 'We're not sure we'll be very good at this, but we can't have children of our own, so it might be nice to sort of baby-sit someone else's until they get their lives sorted and can take them back.'

'It's a bit harder than baby-sitting,' she said, not unkindly.

'That's what we're scared of,' I said.

2017

If Ciaran had been more similar to Angus, if he'd been Aboriginal and outgoing, if he'd been overweight and always smiling and talking, I think I would have baulked and ran. Instead, he was droll and dry and introverted, slim yet muscular, white and perverted, and it was because of this that I could allow myself to love him.

Ciaran was so utterly different both in personality and appearance that I never felt that he was a challenge to my late husband. It didn't hurt that his FIFO status meant that I had time away from him to process how I felt about a new relationship.

After our date, Ciaran went back to Perth, came back, went to Perth, and was due back in Brisbane again in two days when he rang one Friday night. He'd rung me two or three times a week, when Pearl had was asleep and he'd finished a twelve hour shift, dinner and washing, and we'd talked, but this time, rather than talking about regular stuff, he asked if I could 'help him' with something. From the tone in his voice I knew what he wanted help with was masturbation, not me to pick him up from the airport when he got back to Brisbane or my opinion on whether he should buy a pair of blue jeans or black ones.

Over the years, sex with Angus had become a highly emotional, sensual affair, and he'd hold me afterwards until one or both of us fell asleep. The men I picked up were normally nervous and either needed some oral stimulation to get fully hard or they came too soon or they took a while to climax.

Sex with Ciaran was different again. It was great, really. Fun, and there was certainly an emotional element, but we were still too new and fresh for it to be a deep one. But he had me doing things I'd never done before, and I found myself enjoying it, so if he wanted me to help him jerk off, so be it. I was happy to give it a shot.

'Sure,' I said. 'But first, set the mood. What's it like where you are? Tell me about your room.'

'Uh, it's like a motel room but in a donga. A caravan thingy. It's small. Impersonal. Quiet, except for the sound of the air-con and the noise outside, but when I'm in here, I shut off the outside world.'

'Do you like it?'

'My room? Yeah, I guess so. I'm used to this life now, though. I can't imagine anything else.'

'What are you wearing?' I asked.

'I've finished for the day and I've had a shower and dinner, so I'm only in shorts.'

'Just shorts?'

'Just shorts.'

'No underwear?' I joked.

'Let me check,' he teased. 'Uh... no.'

I giggled unexpectedly at the thought of Ciaran in his donga, pulling the waistband of his shorts out to double check he wasn't wearing anything else. Ciaran laughed, too, but there was an intonation to his voice that suggested it wasn't just amusement he was experiencing.

'Hard?' I inquired.

'Extremely.'

'Take your shorts off.'

Ciaran did as I asked. 'Done.'

'You're now completely naked, in your motel-style room, with a hard-on?'

'Yep.'

'Make yourself comfortable. I want you to do something for me.'

'Sure.'

I cleared my throat. 'Hold your balls in one hand and your dick in the other. Touch them both gently, like you're teasing yourself.'

'Ahmm, I'm so hard, baby,' he confessed. 'I wish you were here to see this.'

'To watch your jerking off?'

'Uh-huh.'

'You want me to tease you about it? How horny you are?'

'If you want,' he said, surprisingly coy.

'Oh, I want,' I agreed, wondering if I was perhaps stumbling onto a sexual side of his he'd hitherto been too embarrassed to show me. 'Are you sitting down or lying down?'

'I'm kind of half-sitting on my bed, with pillows propped underneath my head and back.'

'So you can stare at your cock?'

He laughed, embarrassed. 'God, how did you know?'

'Wank yourself the way you like to. Tell me, does the foreskin move around? Are you leaking?'

'Yes and not yet.'

'Keep going until you get that little bead of pre-cum. Then I want you to wipe it off and lick it.'

I'd thought I might be pushing the envelope a little, but Ciaran didn't protest. I heard him grunting softly and the sounds of him wanking, and began to feel more than a little aroused.

'Okay,' he said. 'Um, here goes.'

I waited.

'How is it?' I asked.

'Salty. Blech.'

I laughed, not meanly, just amused. 'Run your hands down your chest. Tell me if your nipples get hard. Tell me if it turns you on.'

I heard him move the phone. He was obviously wedging it between his ear and his shoulder.

'Nipples are hard,' he reported. 'I'm definitely feeling ready. Tell me about you. What are you wearing?'

'A casual summer dress,' I said.

'Bra?'

'I'm taking it off. My nipples are poking out through the fabric.'

'Knickers?'

'They're on. Maybe I should finger myself through them, and keep them for you for when you get back to Brisbane.'

'Fuck, yes please.'

I went to my room, to my bedside drawer, and retrieved my vibrator.

'I'm getting one of my toys,' I told him. 'Would you like to hear it?'

'Uh huh.'

I flicked it on. 'This is what I'm using now that you're not here. It's not as good as you. I can't hold it around the base and feel the blood pulse through. It won't ejaculate. But I'll cum. Want to hear it?'

'Oh, fuck yeah.'

I lifted my skirt and traced the vibrator along my pussy lips, softly at first, then a bit harder. I increased the speed.

'Mmm,' I mumbled. 'My panties are already sticking to me I'm that wet. Wank for me. Tell me if you feel as good as I'm feeling.'

'I can hear your vibrator. Fuck.' He replied. 'Yeah, I'm feeling good. Really good. I wish you were here, baby. I'd love to see you come in the door, tell me what you think, and use me to get yourself off.'

'That'd be nice,' I agreed. 'I'd love to see you naked, cock hard and in your hands, and just push you onto the bed. I don't think I'd bother taking my dress off. Nor my panties. I'd just move them to the side and ram your prick into me.'

'Oh fuck.'

'You know what I'm doing now? I'm moving my panties to the side. I'm shoving this vibrator deep inside me, the way I'd shove you inside me. I'm going to move the phone closer to my cunt so you can hear it better.'

I held my phone with one hand and my vibrator with the other. I plunged it in out and out, filling myself. I started to moan, louder than I usually would, knowing Ciaran would want to hear.

'Did you hear that?' I asked, bringing the phone back to my ear. 'That was my vibrator. Now touch yourself slowly.'

He grunted. 'Baby? I'm ready to go.'

'Ready to cum?'

'Soon.'

'I'll be quick tonight, too. Stop touching your cock. I'm going to get myself off.'

I stopped talking to him as I rubbed my vibrator against my clit. I was making a lot of noise, and Ciaran was giving me a lot of feedback, but I was only half listening to him. I was driving the both of us wild, but it was me that I was more concerned about.

My dress was pulled down at the front so I could feel my breasts. My nipples were hard and I tweaked at each of them, one by one, as I started to grind against my vibrator. I thought of Ciaran, naked and hard and listening to me. He was still saying things, the sort of comments men make when they want you to orgasm, and it was really doing the trick.

'I'm going to cum,' I wailed. 'Fuck me Ciaran, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.'

I thrashed around the bed, the vibrator clamped against my clit, as I climaxed. I dropped the phone in my desperation to grind against my man-made toy, and only picked it up when I'd finished.

'Oh God,' I whispered. 'My vibrator's so wet.'

'Oh baby, I'm so horny,' he muttered. 'Can I finish now?'

I laughed, exhausted. 'What if I said 'no'?'

'Fuck,' he laughed weakly. 'Okay. That'd be fine. Whatever you want.'

'Whatever I want?'

'Sure. Whatever you want.'

'Righty-o,' I agreed. 'I want you to finish yourself off. And when you're done, I want a photo of the cum on your stomach. I want to see the size of your load.'

Ciaran let out a groan as he began to jerk himself. The groans became grunts, and when he gasped my name, I knew he was at the end.

'Oh shit, Helen,' he said. 'That was good.'

'I want a photo,' I reminded him.

I got my photo.

I also received a text message.

Love you so much baby. I think it's time for us to start meeting each other's families. You keen?

Oh God, I thought. Wow.

How about we organise a play date for our kids and see how they get along with each other first? I texted.

Ciaran responded quickly. Sounds great. When suits you?

We settled on Saturday afternoon. I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. What if this was a mistake? What if the kids realised something was afoot?

Don't back out, Helen, I told myself. Don't back out.