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I hadn’t seen Maize in five years. We’d been friends, but at opposite sides of the friend group: She was Tom’s friend, I was Clare’s, Tom and Clare had been the couple holding it all together- still were, inviting us all out to their family’s log cabin, the place where it had all started, back when time began.
I was the second to arrive, and Maize was first, and when I arrived she was standing on the side of the lake, skimming stones out across the reflective surface, the ripples spreading out across reflections of the sky.
I strolled up, still loaded with bags.
Maize froze, stone in hand, turned slowly. Her summer dress caught at the wind, as did her hair, and she must have been cold. Even in summer the wind had a bite to it, and by this part of the season Autumn was closing in.
“Oh… Hey Lee.”
Shrug. A tight, awkward moment, guarded even. “Just annoyed.”
“Won’t be coming.”
She nodded, turned back to throwing things at the lake, not even bothering to try and skim them now.
I made my way inside.
It wasn’t like I had been invited to the wedding (like I said, me and Maize were on opposite sides of the friend group), but I’d heard about it. People said they were happy. Every so often a picture of Maize with some tall Germanic dude cropped up on my facebook. She’d seemed happy enough, although facebook pictures probably weren’t the best way to judge someone’s well being.
The Cabin was dry, and warm, three separate bedrooms, each with two pairs of bunks. Apparently we’d be up to capacity by the end of the weekend, but for now it was empty. I dumped my stuff in the bunk room classically allocated to “Guys”. Glanced around a bit, checked in on the food situation.
No one else was due to arrive for a couple days, but I had figured I could use the escape, my holidays started early, no reason to hang out in the big city when I could be out here.
Technically I was supposed to arrive first- Maize wasn’t due for almost a week, but then again, now didn’t really seem the time to mention that.
Presumably she’d got key instructions from Tom and Clare, or remembered from when we were kids.
There was a envelope for me on the table, artistic paper complete with Clare’s swirly writing cursive, embossed in purple gel tip.
You’ll be the first one here so there are a few things you’ll want to set up…
I glanced through the rest of the card, checked around the house a bit, and realized (for the most part) that Maize had already got most of it set up. There was a thing with the sink she’d apparently ignored (or not known about) but that was all. By the looks of it she’d been here for at least a couple days.
I collected a couple arm loads of firewood for the for the iron potbelly stove, then went to join Maize on the lake-front. She hurled a couple more rocks out into the water, then stumped over and plunked herself down where I was lying.
“How’s YOUR love life?” She demanded.
“Eh.” I shrugged noncommittally. “Can’t say much. Travel. Never really in one place long enough for anything serious.”
“A different girl in every port?”
“Something like that.”
Maize snorted. From this angle I could see her bare arm, and a brown curtain of hair. And the sky. Oceans and oceans of sky.
“Never would have picked you to be a player, Lee,” she muttered.
She’s looking over her shoulder at me now, imperious, proud, actually looking at me properly for the first time since I arrived.
The first time ever, perhaps.
“Look- the kind of women who want something serious don’t go for guys like me- they look for men who are going to hang around. I’m always passing through. That’s why-”
I stop. Uncomfortable with the thought. Uncomfortable with where our lives have brought us.
“Why what?” The words are gentle now, a far cry from the steel in her eyes moments earlier.
I scowl, shuffle, rearrange myself. Feel too vulnerable lying down, instead sit up, lock my eyes out on the lake, the pristine surface, the site of so many memories, the-
“Why what Lee?”
I feel her squeeze my hand, close, her arm brushing up against mine, her breath against my cheek, eyes deep as I turn to face her.
“That’s why I need you guys,” I mumble, frustrated, brushing her off, pulling back. I don’t know why. “You’re the only family I’ve got, okay? The only friends who actually…” I trail off. It sounds weak, stated like that. Pathetic.
“Who actually remember you?”
Maize laughs, darkly. Not cruelly, but darkly, and then she lies back on the rocky shore, and I lie next to her.
“We’re all a bunch of fuck ups, aren’t we?”
I nod. After a while I find her hand, and we entwine fingers again.
We lie in silence, then talk about old times. About Micky falling off of the dock, or Tom and Vicky getting drunk and hooking çankaya escort up, back before Clare and Tom were a thing.
“Who? Tom and Vicky, or Tom and Clare?”
“Tom and Clare!” Maize swats at me, and we get up, start to make our way inside.
Its getting dark, the sun set but light still lingering in the sky.
“What about them?”
“They’re so happy!”
“Who wouldn’t be.”
I roll my eyes, but know she’s right.
Those two have had it going on since we were eighteen. A classic love story, sealed with a kiss on Christmas night.
Inside, I chop the vegetables while Maize starts the fire. We chat. I glance over at her, as she glides about bare foot, scrunching up paper, arranging a tipi off kindling on the pot-belly stove, kneeling next to it, blowing life into the flames. I find myself more and more aware of her body, the movement of her hips, the gentle washing of her dress against her legs.
She gets the fire going, and I force my eyes back to the vegetables, pretend I wasn’t staring.
A moment later she’s beside me, a single hand against the small of my back “Almost done?”
I nod. We throw the veggies in water and stick them on top of the stove. A simple meal. A little lame to be honest, but our supplies are limited and neither of us seems in the mood for complicated cooking.
She guides me to the couch, then lies down on top of me, her head nestled against my shoulder, arms around each other.
“You okay with this?”
Her hair smells like woodsmoke, leaves and twigs caught in it scratching at my face. Lethargically I reach up and tease at the twigs, my thoughts coming fuzzily, the jet lag finally catching up with me.
After a while, I can feel her weeping, feel my hand rubbing circles around her back, soft shushing noises.
The veg boils over, and I ignore it, knowing that it doesn’t really matter anyway.
What did ‘e do to you? What’s the world do to you?
We all go out into the big wide world, get knocked around like bumper carts… not so long before we realize we’ve all got cracks all over…
“Hey, Maize, you remember that time we held a bonfire, and painted ourselves with the ash.”
“And Vicky’s parents were so angry at us for ruining her Sunday dress, and Tom’s parents were high.”
“And we all us guys went skinny dipping afterwards, and you said we looked like drowned rats and it was totally gay.” I give her a squeeze.
” ‘course, then we found out that Micky was gay, so I guess you weren’t totally wrong.”
Maize pokes at me, lifts herself up. “And you did look like a drowned rat, so I definitely got that part right.”
“Really? I thought we looked dashing.”
She rolls her eyes and climbs off me, heading towards the stove.
No response. Instead she rescues the broiled vegetables, and dumps them out onto a pair of plates.
We sit and eat in silence, contemplating our dinners, the past, the future.
We’re all rejects and fuck ups… and yet somehow… sitting here… it doesn’t seem to matter…
“Mmmm?” I continue eating, realize she’s waiting for me to pay attention to her, and look up to find her looking at me again.
“You really did look kind of sexy.”
A grin cracks my face. I stuff more food in myself, resisting the urge to kiss her. Instinctively my eyes trace over her body, feet tucked beneath her legs, a wash of dress, flat chest, good shoulders, and clear eyes that watch me survey her, calm, patient.
“The others aren’t here for a couple days, I was wondering if we could…” she trails off, fingers reach out, brush against my knees.
I find myself suddenly very aware of my surroundings. The ancient sofa/bed, the thrift shop paintings on the walls, the scratched up table.
This is Maize. This is Maize you’re talking to.
My hand finds hers, catching at each others fingers.
Her eyes flick up and meet mine.
“Would you be okay if we pretend to be a couple for a bit. If we pretend like our lives aren’t in a total shambles.”
I look down at her hand, hesitate for a moment.
That’s kind of fucked up. That’s kind of totally fucked up.
How long ago did he dump you?
What happens when the others get here?
But when I look up, its still Maize staring back at me, from those clear gray eyes, and I know whatever I say she’ll be okay with me, that we’ll always be friends.
I lean forward and kiss her.
For a instant we cling to one another, hold each others lips, I feel tears prickling at my eyes, and wonder if maybe I just made a big mistake, or the best choice in my life. Her lips are soft, with barely the slightest pressure, yearning to hold on, hoping to pull away. The kiss breaks, and for just a moment escort çankaya we remain motionless, both leaning forward awkwardly, breathing each others air, her fingers locked through mine, tight, painfully.
We sit back, and once again I meet her eyes, and say exactly how I feel:
“I trust you.”
We finish dinner together, eating in companionable silence, then, in further silence go over to tidy the kitchen and wash the dishes, some from evening, and more from throughout the day. It looks like Maize has been here by herself for a few days.
I end up washing while Maize dries, brushing past and reaching around me in the confined space.
The last plate folds into the drying rack. I dry my hands then turn and catch her by the waist on her way past. She leans into me, and again we kiss, again I wonder if this is possibly some terrible mistake, until she takes my hand and leads me back to the bunk room.
We climb up on a top bunk and nestle into one another, the darkness cocooning us, the barest fraction of light leaking through from the kitchen/lounge area, painting reflections in her eyes.
We nestle closer, folding into one another, legs tangled, our arms enveloping on another, lips pressed against one anothers’ throats, gentle, hurting.
How long since you held a women you actually cared for?
We grind, continually rearranging, pressing thighs against thighs, palms against backs, rolling, for a moment, her beside, on top, beneath me. All of it calm, all of it gradual, two hands ringing through one another, and with my spare hand I rub the side of her leg, brush against her thigh, her waist, lifting her summer dress as I go. She lifts her butt, presses her hips up against me, and I slide the dress further, wondering at how calm she seems, how calm I feel, how easy it is to fall in love again, to pretend.
We kiss, this time with my weight pressed down against her, her fingers down the back of my pants, pressing me into her, tongues reach out to touch one another, the sensation of double vision growing more and more intense, as I see her both as a friend and a lover. She rolls over, pins me between her legs, teetering near the edge of the bunk. She unbuttons my shirt, I raise up her dress. We kiss through the fabric as she raises up her arms, and it smells just like her, just like this.
For a moment we sit, one step removed… she tears off my shirt, we tangle through one another- feeling desperate, feeling hunger, our bodies undulating like savage oceans, the tide high, the water rich with salt, our lips against each others throats, no longer gentle, we leave marks on one another, tussle to be the one on top, the one underneath, fighting, sure, undecided.
She ends up on top, I kiss her shoulder, her clavicle, the soft rise at the start of her breast, and then the dark circle of her right nipple, hard, ready to be taken between my lips, between my teeth.
As I touch, her body goes entirely ridged, entirely frozen. I lie back, look at her.
“This is what you want?”
“Something bothering you?”
She lies back down again, lies against, me. “I don’t have any condoms.”
“Well aren’t you Mr. prepared.” She pauses, apparently thinking over the implications.
“Do you want me to get them?”
She glances over at the doorway, obviously reluctant for me to leave.
I wriggle out from under her, her body making no move to let me go. Once standing, I throw a blanket over her and stride out.
It takes a few minutes frisking through my bag. I spend the time thinking about her, about the perfect curve of her body, the overwhelming warmth beneath me… the past.
A few seconds after I find it, a shadow passes over the door and she joins me, the blanket wrapped around her like a cloak..
“Got sick of waiting,” she purrs.
And here was me expecting to spend the next few days alone…
Again, we kiss. Her hands run across my rod until its hard, until I put the condom on, and then she lunges, pressing herself against me, her hands around my waist. Suddenly all is flesh, the force of her, everything off balance, pushing me left and right like gusts of wind, as we knock against the ladders, bruise ourselves against the wall, desperate, uncaring, her legs wrapped around me, ready to be pressed apart. Somehow we end up lying on one of the lower bunks, her straining beneath me, swearing furiously into my ear, until I finally manage to aim my cock, ram it into her, eliciting a long shuddering moan.
“We don’t really know each other Lee,” She holds onto me, locks me in place, eyes like steel boring into me “We never did”
I thrust again and she cries out, nails digging into me, sweat dripping off of her. There’s something caustic in her love.
I give her a few moments for the sensation to subside.
“We’re strangers Lee. That’s what makes you hot,”
I çankaya escort bayan ram her again, feeling twisted, feeling powerful. She moans, and I fuck her, and then she moans some more, whimpering as if she’s frightened, as if she doesn’t know what to do with herself any more.
After a few more thrusts I knock into the back of her, wind her, pin her down, gasping, spluttering for air. Her pussy is tight. Her back arched. We both sweat. Dripping with it.
I want to own her.
It’s tempting. The sensation of power, of raw dominance, of something simple.
I want that. Want that feeling, that release, want it more than anything I can remember.
“I know you, Maize,”
She shakes her head, pushes against me. “Fuck off”
A few more strokes, gentler this time. Slower. She closes her eyes, forces her breathing deeper.
“I’ve known you for a long long time. I remember.”
She’s scowling now. I know that she hates this. Hates being reminded. Wants me to just fake it out and fuck her.
“We could pretend…” my fingers stray along the curve of her waist, over uncovered breasts, brushing gently, soothing, calm. “We could pretend to be strangers.”
I brush her cheek. There are tears rolling down it now. On impulse, I lie myself back against her, press lips against her forehead, envelope her in warmth.
“We could pretend to be a couple, playing roles.”
We kiss, her tongue seeking out my teeth, running over me, hands running over me again. No clenching, not clawing, but smooth, exploratory, holding me against her, a loving caress.
I let the words sink in, press into her again, slowly, drawing a long shuddering sigh from her body. I feel her body tensing around me, the flesh of her pussy clenching tight, pulling me in.
“Or what else?” she murmurs.
I prop myself up for a moment, stare at her, gaze into gray crystal eyes.
“Or I could love you, not like a girlfriend or a wife, but… as someone who I want to keep in my life, someone I have known for a million billion years. As you.”
She nestles closer to me, half rolling me around, eyes darting over me, patient again.
I roll the rest of the way, pull her with me, pin her against my body. “It’s not so complicated.”
Again we kiss. We’re both coated with sweat, cooling now, amidst this momentary distraction.
“I want to fuck you Maize… not just your body.”
She bites at my shoulder, grinds herself against me, I run hands along her flanks. This isn’t what you bargained for…
“I don’t want it complicated.”
I tug down on her shoulders, tug her right against me, plow up inside her.
“I want you to remember the day we meet.” Yellow sunlight over tall grass… running through the fields. “Everything, everything leading us here.” Rowing out across the lake. Joking by the fire- a short girl in a summer dress. Year after year, growing up together.
She understands, cries out as I thrust into her, touch at her, my lips against her shoulders, neck , breast, her fingers through my hair both of us lost in the moment, lost in the memories, an encounter years in the making, inevitable, inevitable, I was always going to Fuck you, Maize, I was always going to-
“Again!” She shudders. I shudder. She shudders in response. “Keep- keep going.” We savage each other, press at each other, I need to please, need to hear her panicked breath, she’s gouging lines all over me and I grab at her wrists, pin her down. For a moment we catch sight of one another- her a broken bird, predatory and proud, me some savage mountain-dweller, the picture of violence, the picture of humanity.
For just a moment we hang together, willing time to stop, the world to end.
Then I heave into her, burning to break her, to ride her, to complete whatever dark ritual is written into our genes.
Your body is amazing.
Your body is a temple.
Let me desecrate you.
Let me own you.
We wilt into one another, stray fingers tracing wetness over one another bodies. A gentle touch draws out a few more spasms of pleasure.
She presses sticky fingers against my lips, and I suck on them and smile. She smiles back, all savagery forgotten.
“What moment did you think of? When you came?”
“I thought of the first day your noticed me, the first day I felt wanted.” She peers closer at me, curious, wondering.
“The first day of summer,” I guess “when we were both fourteen.”
She nods. “You’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”
We lapse into silence and lie together breathing for a while before she speaks again. “Do you know what I did that afternoon?”
I shake my head, pull hair away from her neck so I can kiss at her again, meet her eyes.
“I went home and diddle myself while the family was down at the beach.”
I pull back, look up at her. She holds my gaze unflinching. Amused. Blushing perhaps, or just flush from sex, its hard to tell.
“Mum almost caught me with a cucumber up my ass, pretending it was you. Had to hide in the bathroom and pretend I was taking a crap for ages.”
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