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- 10/02/2015
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Prompt Rides - 22. Silver Anniversary
First Line
“I never thought it could be like this.”
“I never thought it could be like this.” I held Terry’s hand, looking up at his emerald eyes, smiling. Strolling through Mallory Square just before sunset was something we never grew tired of doing. Sidestepping tourists and street performers was second nature to us. We walked the half dozen blocks from our place on Caroline Street almost every day to watch the magnificent spectacle of the sun setting on the Gulf of Mexico.
“Pretty cool, eh? Twenty-five years together.” Bending his head down, his luscious soft lips sought mine, quickly pulling away after teasing me with an almost kiss. His hands, dark from the sun, calloused from handling equipment and pulling ropes on the boat, gently cupped my face. He leaned in once again, and his kiss lasted long enough to make my body tingle.
“Happy twenty-fifth anniversary, babe.” I ran my fingers through the hair on his chest, seeking out my name, inked above his heart. The once dark fur was snowy these days but still thick and luscious. Tracing the script the tattoo artist used always gave me a thrill. As usual, I gave the gold ring dangling from his left nipple a tug when I was done.
“We almost didn’t make it to the first one.” The memories his word stirred made me cringe. He saw it in my face and wrapped his muscular arms around my body, drawing me against him. I turned my face sideways, placing it against his solid breast, while he rested his chin on top of my messy curly hair. Flicking my tongue out, I licked a drop of salty sweat precariously clinging to the pierced brown nub.
“Don’t remind me. I was such an ass.” We met at forty; I was carrying enough baggage to fill steamer trunks. Failed relationships, dead-end jobs… alcohol, drugs, and sex helped me get through the days. I had a fifteen-year-old kid I did not understand. Terry was supposed to be a one-night thing. A fuck. A hot stud with a big piece of meat that made me squirm. I almost let him get away.
“I wouldn’t say you were an ass. Maybe an assling?” Two weeks after he turned me into a quivering mass of gelatin, thrusting into me for almost an entire night, we ran into each other at a biker joint on Duval. I was working the bar, slinging two-for-one cocktails during happy hour. I was horny, and the thought of a repeat performance from the stud got him his first beer on the house. It worked. He stuck around until my shift was over, then followed me home. As he left my tiny house the next morning, he met my child.
“Jerk!” Not really. He was never a jerk, although I had been. Terry was stable and reliable; I was not. He became a regular visitor and overnight guest. Whenever he was not in my bed, other men found their way there. I refused to accept he was anything more than a good time. Until I woke up one morning, hung over, if not still drunk, to find him with his arms wrapped around my kid. He went from being a fun fuck to a perverted pedophile.
“Maybe, but you still love me.” He was right. I did love him. Although that morning so many years ago, I was ready to kill him. I told him so, running towards the bedroom to get my gun. Did not make it too far. I was tackled from behind, dropped to the floor, and sat on until I quieted enough to listen to what they both had to say.
“I can always change my mind…” My teasing made him smirk. I did change my mind that day. I heard how Terry was acting like a father to my child. A child I never mistreated but often neglected. Who had to deal with the parade of men running through our house. Who was desperate for me to settle down with one, so we could have some sort of normal family life. Whatever the fuck normal meant.
“What time’s the kid getting in?” They forced me to face myself that steamy Saturday in the middle of July, and I did not like what I saw. After calming down, I promised to try to make some changes. I did try. It was far from easy, but they helped, and my life slowly found some balance. A month before the one-year anniversary of our first meeting, Terry moved in. A couple of houses, and twenty-four years later, we are still together.
“May I remind you the kid’s the same age we were when we met? Married with two boys of his own? Their flight arrived a half hour ago. They should be at the house already. Let’s go home.”
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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