An Irish Girl

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An Irish Girl
She stood in front of me, hitching up her flowered skirt. A pair of lavender panties slid to the floor and she stepped out of them. Her dark eyes challenged me.

“You are trying to trade those for something again.”

“Maybe, but mostly I want you.”

“I heard you found a new guy. Someone who didn’t give you such a hard time.”

“I did, but he was a dud. I’m back.”

I gestured to my lap and she obediently lay down. One of my demands when we were going together was that she return to the running form she had in college. She called me an overbearing ass, but did get out on the trail. Took ten pounds off her butt and thighs. I massaged them as I thought about what to do.

“Go ahead. Beat me. I know you are angry.”

She was only half right. I was madder at myself than I was at her. When I was hung over, which I wasn’t today, I liked to blame the Irish. All of my drunken Irish DNA. The genes that made me drink, that drove me to towering rages and depressed misery, that lost me jobs and girlfriends. A truly heartrending story, if only it were true.

She had new muscles in her ass, and flexed them. Kathleen knew me better than I knew myself. We had grown up together in the same Boston Irish neighborhood. Blocks filled with c***dren of cops. Orphans and widows of cops. Bound by clan and the discrimination of WASP Boston. At least, what was left of it.

“Stop thinking and get on with it.”

I licked her tough rump, and took a mouthful, letting my teeth sink in, but not making marks. She had felt me there many times, and wiggled. My hand slid between her legs and she tried to close them. It was a game we played, going back to when we weren’t legal. Her mom promised to put her in a convent if she didn’t stay pure until she was eighteen, so we teased each other.

“You don’t have to torture. I did come here willingly.”

I ran my hand under her shirt and unclipped her bra as I turned the tight body over in my arms. My lips found hers and our tongues fought.

“You really are a good for nothing bastard. I don’t know why I am here.”

She was naked now, my fingers attacking here and there, her perfect flesh twitching, along with her crotch.

“I suppose you are going to get me all hot and throw me out.”

The walk to my bed was short. It was only a one bedroom shack in the woods on the north side of 128.

I dropped her on the messily made bed. Her wide brown eyes looked up at me, wondering what devious idea was in my head. She’d gotten a scholarship to Radcliffe, just after it has been absorbed by Harvard. She was smart, got good grades and saw through my schemes.

“Do you want a beer?”

“Bad for my weight. I’ll share.”

The beer could wait. I was trying not to smile as my clothes came off. The second she saw my hard cock, I was done for. She would know she had me.

“You look good. Are we going for a run? There is a trail here and the mosquitos are mostly gone.”

Her smile dissolved into a laugh. “You look good too, Sean.” Her reaching hand was pulling me down by my male trophy. That’s what she called it, saying any woman who had been screwed by Sean was a trophy. I was an English major in school and couldn’t figure out the grammar of that, but didn’t care, since I was sinking between her muscled thighs and finding our connection.

The moment my cock entered, it was pleasure and madness all over again. A witch’s brew of lust. She groaned, a long drawn out “Yesss.”

She liked to talk during sex. Called me names, promised to never do it again, said her tramp days were over. And lost herself in a towering orgasm that shook from top to bottom and left her gasping.

Today was just low a****l noises. Small answers to my thrusts. It had been almost a year since we’d seen each other last. My nerve endings were blasting as never before. Absence certainly did make sex better.

We were going to climax soon. Too soon. I slowed down but she said, “No, finish me.”

She didn’t scream, but the body spoke for her, shaking wildly and tossing me to the side.

I returned with a beer and sat on the edge of the bed. She lay fully relaxed, eyes slitted, chest still pushing rosy tits skyward. I said, “Don’t worry about the bed,” knowing it was my mess dripping out of her.

She took a long gulp from the bottle and stared at me silently. Communication was occurring. I took her hand and worked on the fingers.

“Kathleen, I’m glad you found me. We have been stupid.”

“Yes, both of us.”

“Me, most of all, for leaving the way I did…”

“That was truly nasty. My mom was so upset, she didn’t show me your note for two weeks.”

“I’m sorry. I was in a drunken funk when I wrote it. The Precinct Captain showed me the Commissioner’s reprimand letter and I knew it was the end.”

“They were wrong, you could have fought back.”

“Once you have one of those in your file, it’s all over. Doesn’t matter what is in it. They may let you do your time, but everyone knows why you are never on the promotion list.”

“What did you do? I would have gone with you.”

“Cashed my pension check, bought a motorcycle, and left as soon as I sobered up. I was too proud to come see you face to face.”

“My mother said, ‘Damn Irish,’ and told me to get over you.”

“I’m glad you didn’t take the advice. How did you find me?”

She pulled me over on her chest and twirled her fingers in my hair. “You talk too much when you are drinking. Byron told me.”

I closed my eyes, wondering what she had in mind for us. “Are you working?”

“I never quit. Without you around, I’ve worked hard and been promoted twice. What are you doing, or going to do?” She pressed me harder to her, my face buried between her breasts.

“I could be your slave. Feel your lashes. Find a way to be humble and contrite.”

She laughed and pushed me over on my back. “You are still a devil, Sean McCullough. I don’t know why I love you.”

My hands placed her body sitting on me, serious eyes looking down, glistening with tears.

“I guess you should stay up there until you have extracted enough penance from your stupid boyfriend.”

“I like sitting up here, rubbing my messy bottom on your abs. Your very tough abs. You drove that bike from gym to gym, didn’t you? You killed yourself morning after morning trying to ditch Boston and your ruined job…”

“And the woman I didn’t deserve.”

She fell into my arms and we cried on each other. Cried and moaned and tried to say sorry things. As I slipped away, I asked myself why I deserved a second chance with Kathleen, who still loved me.

When I woke, she was licking me, fingers back in my hair. “I like it like this, almost as long as mine. A dirty blond rogue. Will you be my dirty blond rogue, with a scratchy beard that gives me a rash?”

“We have to talk.”

“Does this shack have any hot water? Why are you here in the middle of nowhere?”

“We have to talk.”

She cuffed me and walked to the shower, feeling my eyes feasting on her shapely ass.

I fixed the bed and followed after her. “You better get in here, the hot is going fast.”

She was right and there was no time for play. We stood side by side, toweling, and I asked, “Would you like dinner in Gloucester, and maybe sleep over in that place with the cottages by the water?”

Her eyes widened. “You mean a secret weekend, two lovers hiding out?”

“Something like that. A small step on starting over.”

She walked into me, all fresh and warm, all woman. The kiss was soft and delicate. “You are going to behave like a proper gentleman?”

“Cross my heart.”

She snapped the towel as hard as she could at my butt and laughed. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it for a single minute, but we’ll see.”

She refused to ride the bike and we drove in her car. I used the time to make reservations and find a clothing store without telling her. I navigated and when we were parked in front of the store, her eyes asked what was going on.

“We need to look decent for the restaurant I booked. I’m buying you a new outfit.”

She leaned over with a kiss. “Damn, you are reformed.”

Half an hour later, my Amex was covering a thousand dollars of new clothing. She gave me a look and asked, “How does a broken down biker support that?”

“We have to talk.”

I got a headlock, right in the store, and a hiss in my ear, “You better be on the up and up, McCullough, or I’m walking.” She only half smiled at me.

The receptionist at the Coast Inn was very pleasant and gave us a premium unit, with isolation from the others. I asked for cold champagne to be delivered as soon as possible and she smiled. Kathleen gave me a sharp elbow.

“Have a pleasant weekend, Sean and Kathleen, I love those names.”

There was a chill east wind off the water, so we decided to look at the Atlantic rather than walk the beach. After some body arrangement, Kathleen was warming my front with her back, sipping champagne, and feeding me crackers with imported cheese on them.

“You are to talk now.”

I kissed the back of her neck and pulled on a lock or two. “I came home with more money than I left with, and I am not a crook.”

She pulled my hand up under her shirt, where there was no bra. “I didn’t think you were that smart.”

“I ran into a private security guy in Vegas who needed help with a takedown. The casinos don’t like publicity when they find their people skimming. One day the guy is working, the next he has disappeared. Wakes up in Mexico with a note in his pocket saying he is blacklisted at every place in town, don’t bother to come back.”

“No cops?”

“No. Not strictly legal, but the law looks the other way because it saves them a lot of paperwork.”

“How much did you get paid?”

“Five grand. The guy told me he liked my style and would I mind if he called from time to time.”

“Did he?”

“Two jobs in LA, one in San Francisco, one in Portland.”

“This isn’t something to build a career on.”

“You have always been smart, Kathleen. Maybe after you tell me what you are doing, we can talk about work for me.”

She drained her glass and looked at herself in the big mirror in her sexy new underwear.

“No messing around or we won’t get to the restaurant on time.”

The chill wind off the ocean was still there, but we walked three blocks to Ted’s anyway. The appearance was not inviting, but the food was terrific. We sat at a corner table and held hands. The waiter recommended the German Reisling, and we ordered it, along with a plate of fresh oysters.

“You never treated me this way before.”

“I have a lot to make up for. Are you really going to take me back?”

“I’m older and wiser. I don’t go for that ‘God will provide’ stuff any more. If we are back together, you are marrying me, getting a respectable job, and settling down.” Her eyes were wide, curious about my response.

I didn’t answer right away, sipping my wine and thinking. “Being out on the road, doing jobs now and then, discovering the country, has a good feel to it.”

She waited for more, and finally said, “Damn, you want a biker girl.”

“Settling down usually involves babies. Babies don’t go with motorcycles. You’re young enough to wait a bit. Come explore the world with me. Find a way to get a leave.”

Her eyes were wet and she was hanging on to my hand with both of hers.

“Hey,” I said, “give it a chance. Let’s talk about something else.”

Somehow, conversation dribbled away, along with lust. We cuddled in the cold bed, listened to the wind rattle a loose shutter, and slept.

The shutter was rattling harder in the morning. I thought about a nor’easter and pulled the arm wrapped around Kathleen tighter.

Whispered in her ear, “Maybe we are marooned by the storm. The power will go out and we will have to entertain ourselves with sex.”

“That is not the story you owe me.”

“Damn.” I nibbled on her neck as she reached back and slapped my erection as hard as she could.

I pinched her stiff nipple in return. “You are punishing me for not instantly promising a house in south Boston filled with Irish babies.”

“I’m not seeing myself in leathers.”

“I like your bare flesh better.” He was hard again. I lifted her leg and slid him up to her sex.

She pulled away and turned to face me, eyes hard. “If you get a job here, I’ll go biking with you on weekends. I’ll even wear leathers for you.”

Her eyes told the rest of the story. The safety of a good job was more important than Sean’s love. I buried my head under a pillow and waited.

“I should have known this wouldn’t work. Loving you is just some dumb tragedy waiting to happen.”

She dug nails into my back and I felt hot tears dropping on my skin. Her tongue licked them.

I cursed myself. Damn selfish stubborn Irish bum. You are in bed with a beautiful passionate woman that you have been in love with for years and all you can think about is riding a goddamned motorcycle. You don’t deserve her.

I turned over and looked at her wet face. “I don’t deserve you.”

Silently, she got up from the bed and started dressing. I used the bathroom and found my clothes.

We weren’t hungry but had the complimentary breakfast anyway. It was before eight and we were the only guests in the small dining area with vintage wallpaper and gray views of the riled up ocean. It matched our mood.

She played with my fingers and finally said, “Maybe there’s no salvage to us, Sean. Maybe this was never supposed to work.”

Filled with gloom, we checked out and started back to the shack.

“Sean, you know what a shrink would tell you?”

I didn’t answer.

She waited several minutes and said, “A shrink would tell you that the motorcycle is your attempt at escape from reality.”

Back at my place, she pushed me down on the bed, lay beside me and pulled the blanket over us.

I closed my eyes and waited for more truth, for more punishment.

“We are none of us all there, Sean. I’m as bad as you are, searching for my lost lover and not finding the magic, fantasy boyfriend of my dreams.”

Something snapped inside me and I ran a hand inside her tee shirt and tickled the ribs.

“So we are two broken souls? Two crazy Irish who will fight and scream and love?”

She climbed on top, where she liked to be, and smiled down.

I whispered, “There will be special rewards if I sell the damned motorcycle?”

She moved back on my legs and rubbed my crotch. “I will tell my mother we are not going to live in the old neighborhood.” She unzipped my pants and pulled him out, red and throbbing.

“And we will wait a while before knocking me up.” Still smiling, she lifted, pulled her panties to one side and lowered her warm wet self in place. It felt right. She knew it and I knew it.

She took my hand to her mouth, licking and biting the tips, posting gently all the while. I’d never felt closer to my girl.

“Sex and love, Sean. Love and sex. That’s what holds us together. We need to thank the Lord for small things.

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