The Fall Ch. 06

Cyril was standing in the little shed with Anna O'Sullivan, smoking the marijuana she'd bought online.

At fifty-six and sixty-five years of age respectively, they were the oldest sneaky potheads in the area. They both agreed it made the pain bearable. It also gave them a private little secret, something just for the two of them.

'I see Lydia has her Hyundai back,' Anna said. She took another draw of her joint and coughed. 'Oh damn, I need a drink. I need to learn how people make marijuana brownies, Cyril. I can't smoke like I did back at teacher's college.'

He opened a can of lemonade and handed it over. She took it and drank from it thirstily, trying to calm her throat. When she seemed to have got it under control, he spoke.

'I miss the Charger. It made me feel alive,' he said. 'Lydia didn't appreciate it, of course. She drove like a lunatic.'

'She's too young to appreciate it,' Anna countered.

'She'll be twenty-nine in a few days.'

'I'd love to be twenty-nine again. Fit, young, two small children... Speaking of children, I think Cora's pregnant.'

'Already? How long ago did she marry that boy of yours?'

'Five weeks.'

Cyril shook his head. 'Fertile, isn't he? What will this be? His fourth?'

She sighed heavily. 'Yes and yes.'

He finished his joint and crushed it underfoot. 'Maybe he'll father a girl this time. That'd be nice for you, having a granddaughter.'

Anna finished her joint and stubbed it out. 'Maybe. What are Lydia's plans after you pass? Will she stay here with Dylan?'

'I don't know about that,' he admitted. 'I don't think she knows, either. I get the feeling they've been talking about it, though. He took her to meet his folks a few weeks ago.'

'He's besotted by her, isn't he? How does he cope with her drinking?'

'He's actually managed to slow her down a bit. She still drinks, of course, and heavily, but she's stopped vomiting so much, and she's not pissing the bed.'

Anna sighed again. 'It hurts, doesn't it? Watching them kill themselves.'

Cyril nodded. It did.

There was a knock on the shed door. It was one of the farmhands. He sniffed the air. His face contorted. He seemed perplexed as to why two old people might be standing in a shed that smelt like weed.

'Can I help you?' Anna asked.

He stared at her in confusion. 'What are you doing in here, Mrs O?'

'Cyril needed to borrow some baling twine,' she lied. 'I thought I'd get him a length.'

The farmhand accepted the lie. He walked past them to get what he came for, and when his back was turned, Anna winked at Cyril. He tried not to laugh. He knew he was on the home stretch, but he was no longer worried about dying. He was having a good last innings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia had dropped by to have lunch with him, and she'd only just left when Dylan's boss pulled him aside. Michael looked concerned, which perplexed Dylan. Lydia hadn't stayed for long, and she hadn't interrupted him, so he didn't know what the problem might be.

'I heard a rumour her Uncle's on the way out,' Michael said.

'Oh, yeah,' Dylan agreed. 'He's been told he's only got another few months left. He might last longer. He always said he'd be dead by now.'

Michael nodded. 'You look tired.'

It had been just over three weeks since Kyle had spent the weekend with him, helping him bring everything up to scratch. Inevitably, though, the work had started banking up again. Cyril was no longer capable of doing anything, and Lydia was either working or caring for him, so it left a lot to him. Add in the ongoing requests for him to do cash jobs and he was exhausted.

'I am,' Dylan confessed. 'Sorry mate. I didn't realise it was affecting my work.'

'It's not. Yet.' Michael's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'I hear you've been doing a fair bit of work on farm machinery.'

'Only a bit,' Dylan replied defensively. 'I figured that since we aren't in that line of business, it's not a conflict of interest.'

'Hey, I've got no issues with it. We all need to make a bit extra,' Michael replied. 'I was just going to say I could organise a bit of training for you. If you can start putting most of the business yet get through here, I'm happy to pay for you to learn the ropes. I know a plant machinery mechanic that could spend a bit of time with you.'

'Mate, honestly I'd normally jump at the chance, but I don't have the time,' Dylan said.

'I wasn't talking about 'right now',' Michael corrected. 'I was thinking 'after the old man goes'. I figure you'll probably take some time off to help your girl through it, right?'

'I was planning on it.'

'Good. Then how about you take some time off next week to catch up on things, a week off after the old man goes, and then start doing some training?'

It was a good offer. 'Sure,' he agreed. 'Sounds good.'

Dylan was both pleased and relieved. It was always good to learn something new, and it was better still to know he had a week off to catch up on everything.

He finished the working week, then went around to Michelle's house. He wanted to talk to her about the settlement. He walked up to the house, Ben at his feet, and told himself not to get angry. No matter how much she baited him, he needed to stay calm. This shit couldn't go on indefinitely.

She opened the door and asked what he wanted.

'The property settlement,' he said. 'We need to talk.'

Her brown eyes fixed on him. He could see her weighing him up, deciding whether or not she wanted to talk to him. In the end, she must have sensed he wasn't here to play games, because she invited him in.

Dylan sat at her kitchen table and looked around. The house was a lot tidier this days, and she and her girlfriend must have repainted it because the walls that he remembered to be yellow were now a light grey. He glanced at Chelle and tried to imagine her having sex with a woman. It was a strange thought. She'd barely had sex with him.

'So?' she challenged. 'What do you want to offer?'

'I don't want to offer. I want to talk. I want to... I want to have the conversation we should have had years ago.'

That threw her. She was momentarily caught off guard. Then, very slowly, she showed him the side of her he'd seen when they were still dating. The amicable, personable side, where she was less angry and more open to discussion.

'I think that's a good idea,' she agreed.

He nodded. 'Yeah. See, the thing is, I didn't mean to hurt you. I really did love you. I'm sorry you felt like I was raping you. I'm sorry I just moved out and told everyone else it was over before I told you.'

She made a small, apologetic noise. 'It wasn't just your fault. I should have told you I didn't want children. I should have told you I was on the pill. It was a shitty thing to do to you.'

'I'm really, really glad we didn't have a baby,' he confessed.

'Me too.'

'I don't want to fight with you. I've had a big think about things. Lydia's uncle is dying. I wanted her to move in here afterwards, but she doesn't want to, because she's worried about you. So, I've made my decision. We do a fifty-fifty split on everything. If you really want to buy me out, you can. I'll start packing up the second the papers are signed.'

He waited for her to answer. He waited for her to say 'no, Dylan, you have it. I was just angry at you'. Instead, she nodded her head as if in agreement with what he'd said.

'Thank-you,' she said. 'I'll call my lawyer Monday morning. I assume you want to keep the Hilux and the Charger, your tools and car parts, and the furniture that's in the shed?'

'Yeah, and Ben.'

She waved as if to say that was a given. 'I'll get the paperwork organised and sent to your solicitor.'

It was done. There was nothing left to say or do, so he went back to his shed. Or, rather, the shed that was currently his and would soon be Michelle's.

All of the years of work. The money. The belief that one day, he'd be in a position to feel proud about what he'd done. Now he just felt frustrated. What a mess. There was still so much he'd planned to do and he doubted that under Michelle's watch they'd ever be done.

On the other hand, it would be a lie to say he didn't feel a sense of relief. His marriage was finally going to be over. Finalised. Settled. He'd no longer live next door to his ex-wife. He'd no longer have to communicate with her.

His phone rang. It was Lydia.

'Hi hot stuff,' she greeted. 'You want to come around? I'm going to make a bastardized curry, and Cyril's already complaining about it.'

He was interested in seeing how well she could cook a curry.

'Sure,' he said. 'I'll be there in ten.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lydia had assumed Cyril would welcome a change in his diet, but he instead snapped at her that he was dying and would it kill her to cook what he wanted?

His uncharacteristic anger worried her. She peeled some potatoes, topped and tailed some beans and wondered if she should have invited Dylan over.

Cyril had calmed down by the time her lover arrived, and he and Dylan sat at the kitchen table and drank beers while she cooked dinner. She was only half-listening to them, but when she realised Dylan was telling Cyril he'd agreed to be bought out by Michelle, she stopped in her tracks.

'You're kidding?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'Nah. It's time to move on. I loved the land -still do - but at the end of the day, it's not worth the heartache. She sees it as her reward for staying married to me and she's not prepared to budge. I don't want this shit continuing for the next ten years. I don't want to be spending a shitload of money on a lawyer for no result.'

'You keeping the Charger?' Cyril asked him.

'Mate, that one isn't even in contention,' Dylan grinned. 'I get the cars, tools and parts, Ben, the furniture in the shed, and she gets the rest.'

'Where are you planning on living?' Cyril asked.

'I'll move back in with my parents for a bit while the financial side of things gets settled. After that... not sure, really.'

'You're waiting for me to die,' Cyril acknowledged. 'Me too. You think you could cope with living with Lydia in the city?'

Lydia watched carefully for Dylan's reaction. She was ready to go home. She was still scared of the cattle, she was emotionally drained from looking after Cyril, and she missed the privacy of her flat. It was beautiful out here in the country, and she'd definitely come back regularly to visit, but she couldn't envisage herself living out here.

Dylan caught her gaze. 'I don't know,' he admitted.

She understood his reticence. His family and friends and his job were all out here. If he moved to Brisbane he'd have to start over. It was a lot to ask, and she knew she wasn't offering him much in exchange.

'We'll figure it out,' she said.

Dylan smiled, relieved. 'Yeah, I guess we will.'

Lydia returned to cooking and by some fluke, turned out probably the best curry she'd made to date, and the best steak by far. Cyril was chuffed. Dylan was impressed. She pointed out that she could also make most Westernised 'Chinese' food as good as any takeaway, and Dylan jokingly asked how she felt about marriage.

She didn't drink as much as she normally did that night. The nagging feeling that Cyril wasn't as well as he was pretending to be wouldn't go away, and she understood implicitly that Dylan was also experiencing a grief of sorts about having given up the property dispute.

After Cyril had gone to bed, she stayed out on the back deck with Dylan. She unzipped his jeans, freed his cock, and knelt down in front of him. He put his hands on the back of her head and guided her towards his cock. With any other man, she would have baulked at being held down, but she loved him enough to let him to it.

'Lydia,' he whispered reverently. 'Lydia.'

He was rougher tonight than he'd ever been before. It was more of a face fucking than a blow job. She had to force herself not to gag on his length as he thrust into her mouth, and she was praying that Cyril was in a deep sleep, because he was getting louder and louder.

'Oh fuck, Lyds, get off,' he groaned, pushing her away. His jeans were around his thighs and his cock peeked out from underneath his shirt, slick with her spittle. He pulled her to her feet, then reached underneath her sundress for her panties. He yanked roughly at them, dragging them down. 'Lean over the railing,' he demanded.

She leant over the railing, her arse pointed to him. He shuffled behind her, hiked up the skirt, and found her entrance. He penetrated with a grunt, and when he was safely encased in her, he yanked her dress down at the front. He half pulled her tits from her bra and fondled them briefly, before getting back to the business of sex.

'Lydia,' he groaned. 'Oh fuck, Lyddy, you're gonna make me cum.'

'You dirty man, fucking me out here,' she retorted in a teasing whisper. 'That as hard as you can fuck me?'

'Fuck no, I....' He pumped harder and faster. 'Oh fuck, Lydia, I'm cumming.'

A series of strangled, satisfied grunts filling the air as he filled her with his seed. She could feel his balls hitting her arse, and the sweat from his body trickling onto hers. He hadn't used a condom. For the first time since he learned of the abortion, he'd gone in unprotected.

With one last, long moan he thrust into her for the final time. He leant forward and kissed her hair, while his hands again found her breasts.

'Oh fuck, Lyds, that was incredible,' he muttered. 'I love you. I love you so much.'

'I love you, too,' she whispered, feeling incredibly emotional.

He kissed her, hugged her, and withdrew. She could feel his cum sliding down her legs, and mentioned she wanted to go inside to clean up. He followed her in, zipping his jeans back up as he went, and when he saw the mess he'd made of her, he asked if he could take a picture.

'Really?' she asked.

He shrugged. 'It looks hot.'

'Okay, I guess.'

He took pictures of her crotch, her tits, and her arse. He had her lean over the kitchen table, the skirt of her dress around her waist, and her legs spread. She dreaded to think of what it looked like, and when she asked him how gross it was, he grinned and showed her.

'Dylan,' she complained. 'Delete that. Yuck.'

'No way. It's hot as. Look at all that cum matted in with your pussy hair.'

'Yeah, exactly,' she agreed. 'Ew.'

He shrugged ruefully. 'I'll delete it if you want.'

Lydia sighed. Fucking men. There was no escaping the depths of their sexual fantasies, and she knew she should probably count herself lucky he was so tame. She wrinkled her nose. 'No. If that's what does it for you, keep it. There's no accounting for taste.'

He smiled and kissed her. 'You're so sexy. I just want to look at you, kiss you, touch you, fuck you.... then when it's over, I want to cuddle with you. Talk to you. How did I get to be so lucky, Lydia? How come I got to meet a woman like you?'

Tears inexplicably filled her eyes at his words. 'Sorry. I'm such an emotional wreck, aren't you?'

'Kind of,' he agreed.

How many times had he seen her cry by that point? Six? Eight? She was so much more emotional than him. No matter how hard a front she tried to put on, eventually she cracked. There were tears. Cuddles.

He hugged her and told her that there was something about her crying that turned him on. She told him he was perverted. He laughed.

'Yeah, yeah, I know,' he admitted. 'It's the vulnerability. I like to think I can take care of you. I want to be the one who protects you.'

'Just stop talking,' she giggled through the last of her tears. 'You're making it worse.'

He smiled sheepishly and took her to the bedroom. He wiped away his seed, and kissed her thighs. She thought he might offer up oral sex, but he was neither stupid nor brave enough to do that. Instead, he gently rubbed her clit, in the hope she might cum.

'I know you've been drinking,' he acknowledged. 'Tell me if you want me to stop.'

'It's okay. I haven't had much, and I'm actually in the mood. Would you be offended if I pulled out my vibrator?'

He shook his head. 'Nah. Can I use it on you?'

'Sure.'

She reached into the drawer and handed it over. He took one look at it and muttered something about men being obsolete if this was the kind of sex toy women had available to them. She laughed and told him no, no, not at all. She liked the body attached to the cock. No combination of whirling beads and clitoral stimulator and batteries could ever replace a man.

He crouched between her legs and fucked her with it while she got her tits out and played with them. Her desire was mounting and she began to grind down on her toy. She saw that Dylan had his cock out and was stroking with it with his spare hand.

She shut her eyes and concentrated on the pleasure. She could feel how wet she was, and her whole body felt alive. She pinched at her nipples and groaned. She was right on the cusp of orgasm.

'Oh fuck, can I cum on your face?' Dylan asked.

Lydia opened her eyes. 'I was about to cum.'

'I know. Sorry. I just want to cum on your face and then finish you off.'

Oh. Well, every man has his fantasies, and he was obviously in the mood tonight for lots of down and dirty loving. She told him he could do what he wanted, and he straddled her and pointed his cock at her face.

'You dirty fucking slut,' he groaned. 'You filthy fucking whore.'

She licked her fingers and stroked his perineum. She found his tight little hole and rubbed it as he wanked over her face.

'What are you doing?' he gasped. 'Lydia, your fingers...'

'You think I'm the only dirty one? You like me touching your arsehole, don't you?'

'Lydia...'

She edged the tip of her finger inside. The thrill of it was enough for him. It wasn't the sensation so much as the realisation that they were both doing forbidden things.

Dylan grabbed a handful of her hair and rubbed his cock against her face. 'You're a naughty little bitch, you know that? Look at me. Look at me you little... bitch... fuck... fuck, fuck, fuck, Lydia, oh fuck, oh fuck, you slut, you bitch, I fucking love you...'

She shut her eyes and kept her finger placed just inside his tight little hole as he sprayed her with his cum. She was more aroused than ever. Her cunt felt empty and abandoned, and she was ready to be fucked.

'Oh shit,' Dylan groaned. 'Oh shit.'

She figured he was done, and pushed him down. Her eyes stayed shut, and she could feel his semen congealing on her face already, but she didn't care. She just wanted to be penetrated.

He found her vibrator and every-so-slowly, every-so-teasingly, pushed it inside her. She moaned and begged him for more. Her legs were spread wide and she began to massage her breasts. She felt like a whore. She didn't care. If anything, it just aroused her all the more.

She came with a yelp, her top half arching off the bed as she climaxed. She tried to push herself into the vibrator as her body spasmed and twisted, finally getting the release it wanted. Holy fuck it felt incredible. It was an insane way to be spending her Friday evening.

Sated, she fell onto her back, trembling. Dylan knelt beside her and cleaned her face. He was apologising profusely, as if what he'd done was something to be ashamed of.

'Stop saying sorry,' she demanded. 'I've been waiting for your dirty side to come out.'

He reddened, embarrassed. 'Are you angry? I didn't want to hurt you...'

'...shhh.' She pulled him down for a kiss. 'I love you.'

'I love you, too.'

'Sometimes you just need to let your inhibitions go.'

'I didn't want to upset you,' he confessed. 'I love you too much.'

They went to the bathroom and cleaned up together. They weren't one of those couples who hid things from each other. Their bodies were what they were, for all of their flaws and attributes. When they'd peed and brushed their teeth, he held her tenderly in his arms.