Intimacy

The stories in this series will deal with the issue of sexual abuse and the wounds it creates, so readers sensitive to that topic should take note. Also, while this story connects to the events in some of my other stories (especially Bottles, A Strange Arrangement, and More than a Substitute), it is not necessary to have read the other stories first, though I recommend it!

I've put this series is in the romance category, even though the first and second chapters might not fit. In this case, I've chosen to categorize this series as a whole.

A hearty thank you to GaiusPetronius for his diligent and helpful editing of this series.

*******

She closed her eyes and listened to the waves. The wind blew stronger, no longer a breeze. Sand stung her cheeks as she tightened her lips. Her blond hair whipped about, slowly unraveling the loose braid she had woven that morning.

It was evening, sunset. A few curious seagulls loitered about, hopeful for some crusts of bread. But the only thing she had in her hand was a small white envelope, which she gripped more tightly than she intended.

She didn't feel angry, and she didn't feel sad. Those were mere words, concepts that didn't resonate in her soul. Maybe it was a sacrifice worth making - she could not feel joy, but neither could she hurt. There was only emptiness. And emptiness feels like nothing.

She had lived near that beach for more than two years, and all of that time had been with the easy-going night watchman who seemed to think she could be a different kind of woman. He said he loved her, and he probably meant it. But she couldn't love him. She could fuck him, she could play with him, and she could enjoy the warmth of his body next to hers at night. But she couldn't love.

It wasn't even love that prompted her decision to leave. She wasn't trying to protect him or spare him any pain. Sure, it would hurt him when she left. It would sting him for a moment, probably. Ern was too sentimental anyway, so in a way, it was his own fault. But it would only be the emotional equivalent of a small flesh wound. He didn't know real pain.

In the morning she would give him one more time. She would allow

herself

one more time with him. One more time to feel close and safe and special. One more time to moan appreciatively as he spent himself inside her. One more time to give the only thing she had worth sharing, to connect with him in the only way she knew how. He would work tonight, they would have sex in the morning, and then she would tell him.

She felt a wetness on her jaw. Letting the wind dry it, she mused,

It must be getting ready to rain.

Please, let it be rain.

Hannah never cried.

********

As she walked around the house, Hannah observed that she didn't feel any sentiment about the place. It had never felt like a home to her. She had resisted the urge to redecorate the rooms to suit her tastes. She had made that mistake before, when she had settled into Tim's place. She stayed with him longer than she should have because she had started to feel attached to her environment. She had even mistaken that attachment for some fondness for Tim himself.

Those eighteen months in the company of the quiet park ranger should have been only half that. But once she pulled the paintings off the walls, stashed the candles in some boxes, and tossed the pillows into the closet, it was as if the blinders had been removed from her eyes. She pushed the furniture back to where it had been a year earlier and suddenly it felt like she could walk out the door without even saying good-bye to Tim. And so she did.

Dancing carelessly at a club a few nights before that unceremonious exit, she had bumped into Ernst. He was there for a bachelor party and seemed to surprise himself by spontaneously asking for her number. A few dates later and she was moving her stuff one town over from Tim, into Ernst's modest house near the beach. She "accidentally" dropped her phone during a walk on the beach that evening, removing any chance that Tim might try calling her.

That was just over two years ago. She couldn't believe Ernst was still putting up with her. The poor guy obviously wanted the whole marriage-and-happy-family thing, but she was not the woman for that kind of story. He was good in bed and aside from the occasional pressure to get her to open up and be sentimental, he was not too annoying. She had even been mostly faithful to him, even though they'd never talked about being exclusive.

The past few months, however, he had continued to try to talk about the future. Thank God she had stumbled across the diamond ring he was hiding a few months ago and had returned it to the store before he could embarrass himself. For Hannah, talking like that was pointless. It used to be that she could distract him with a mind-bending blowjob, but Ernst was starting to lose patience. And then that morning, they had fucked quite thoroughly. He had been hovering above her, supported high enough on his fists that she had been able to rub herself to a jaw-clenching orgasm. As if he had only been waiting for her to finish, Ernst had quickly followed her climax with his own. When he dropped himself onto her with a long exhale, he put his lips next to her ear and moaned a soft, "I love you."

It wasn't the first time he'd said that to her, not by a long shot. And only once or twice had she been careless enough to consider responding. But for Hannah it was starting to ruin the moment when he said that during sex. Why add that layer of complication to something that was satisfying enough by itself?

And then there had been the envelope in the mail the week before. Only a very short list of people had her address. Her sisters were two of them. The envelope had shocked her out of stagnation, and Ernst's tender declarations only served to agitate her further.

"I need to move on... This isn't working for me," she had told him. He had rolled to the side with a look of sad surprise. He had to have seen it coming. His face didn't seem to be asking "Really?" or "Why?" so much as "Now?" He had tried half-heartedly to talk her out of it, but there was no point in that. Hannah was leaving. Not that day, but soon.

That evening, as she walked back from the beach, she looked again at the return address before tucking the envelope into the large pocket of her thin dress. She still didn't know which way she would be heading, but she could rule out two places: her current address and the address in her pocket.

*******

She quit her job with a few days' notice. Ernie worked nights, and so the evening before she left, she packed up her car while he was gone. It didn't take long, and the place didn't look any different with her stuff missing. He got home that morning and she pulled him straight to the bedroom. She wasn't really in the mood and was thinking more about wanting to make a sandwich before she left than she was about the stiffening cock in her mouth.

She had always enjoyed sex- it was never something she did for her partner, it was only for her. Whether or not

he

enjoyed it was not really her concern (though men seemed very easily pleased). And so this one time - doing it when she didn't want to - felt like a significant gift. It was something nice she could do for Ernst, a thank you for a few good years together. Not that she cared. She really didn't care.

Lost in thought, trying to convince herself how little she cared, she hardly noticed Ernst pushing her back and guiding her down to the bed. Expecting to feel the weight of his body pressing down on her, she was surprised to feel instead his tongue pressing past her folds. Her cry stemmed as much from surprise as pleasure.

How did he do that?

Why

did he do that? Surely he was ready to go? Her mouth had made sure that he was not only hard but eager, hungry to plow her. Why not get on with it and take what he wanted? Ernie was always a mystery to her.

So distracted by her thoughts and her mental insistence that this meant nothing to her, Hannah couldn't enjoy the slow, tender motions of the tongue and lips that caressed her pussy. She tried something she had never done before with Ernst. She faked a moan. Then she faked another. She hissed and groaned and tried to remember what she usually sounded like when Ern brought her off with his mouth. She tried not to end too quickly - how long did it usually take? - but she also wanted to get on with it. She was eager to leave and was beginning to regret taking time for this last bedroom session.

Once Ernst was satisfied that she had cum, he slowly kissed his way up her body. Pausing to pay particular attention to her small breasts, he slid his hand up her back and gripped her neck from behind. Then holding her in place that way, he entered her smoothly and firmly. Hannah closed her eyes and gasped at his sudden presence inside her. With both hands, she gripped his shoulders and squeezed.

"You OK?" he asked, holding still.

"Yeah," she whispered, her voice unsure. Ernst was worried he had hurt her. Hannah was more concerned that she was feeling something new. Somewhere behind the lust, fighting for recognition, was something else, something she hadn't felt consciously in a long time, if ever.

Hannah put her arms around his back and moaned at the sensation of his cool skin on her forearms. Ernie had pulled back a little, but he hesitated to push back in. Hannah lifted her hips and forced his full length back into her depths, spreading her legs a little to take him even deeper. She was lithe, with long legs that effortlessly wrapped around her partner. Her thin body rippled under him, keeping a steady rhythm that Ernie matched perfectly. She had to arch her back in order to feel his chest rubbing against her nipples, and her breath shook with the sensation of that contact.

The mechanics of their motions were almost automatic. Their bodies were familiar to each other, and as they fell into their comfortable pace, Hannah's mind wandered again. What was it that she had felt as he entered her? What was it that made her want to pull him closer? What was the feeling of happiness at their joining, a happiness that didn't rush to further sensations? It wasn't quite physical, even if it warmed her all over...

Intimacy

.

The word scared her. She saw it in all its terror. She felt close to him, a closeness she craved not just for what he did to her body. She knew without a doubt that she

had

to leave.

The realization changed her experience, and Hannah clenched her eyes shut. She pushed away the moment - a skill at which she had grown quite adept - and let her mind take her to another time and place. She was nineteen and had made her way across the country as far as Texas. At the bar, she had convinced the sweet-voiced cowboy with the sandy brown beard to pick up her dinner tab and to "give her a ride home." They had ended up in the middle of nowhere on a blanket under an endless night sky. Shooting stars and the merest sliver of a moon filled her vision as she looked over the shoulder of the prickly-faced stranger on top of her. He was gentle and kind but driven by physical desire. His cock had filled her nicely and his hands had gripped her hips, giving her little room to maneuver as he grunted rhythmically in her ear.

Just before the cowboy came inside her, she had felt a quivering in her core. She pushed her clit against him as best as she could, and her field of vision began swirling. He pressed hard against her and she whimpered with urgency. The feeling of his warmth pulsing inside her was lost as her thighs tried to close. Her hands squeezed his solid biceps, leaving unmistakable marks. Hannah wailed as her heart raced and her world stopped. It was the first time she reached orgasm during sex.

Blinking back to the present, she was gasping for breath as Ernie wrapped his arms tightly around her. She still felt the last twinges of her own climax, her tunnel clenching the shaft moving relentlessly in and out of her. He pushed deep and released, relaxing a little as he continued to empty his seed into her.

Finally regaining her composure, Hannah stroked Ernst's cheek and said casually, "You should grow a beard, Ern. It would suit you." Still trembling, he looked at her with confusion and slowed his breathing.

Before he could react in any way, she wiggled out from underneath him and ran to the bathroom. She looked around, making sure she had packed her toothbrush, hairdryer, and anything else she didn't feel like having to buy again at the next stop. She emerged from the bathroom wearing a loose t-shirt and tight jean shorts. Slipping her feet into a pair of flops near the bed, she flipped her hair out of the neck of her shirt and hurried towards the fridge in the kitchen.

Hastily throwing together a sandwich and grabbing a half-empty bag of potato chips from the counter, she casually mentioned to Ernie that she was leaving. He clenched his jaw and breathed in deeply through his nose. Before he could respond she said, "Don't take it too hard, Ern. You're a great guy. You're just not

my

type of guy. I'm surprised you put up with me this long. Guess the sex was really good for you, huh?" She had said that last bit with a mouthful of food as she walked out the door. "Take care!"

He didn't even follow her out the door. For that, she was glad.

*******

Hannah drove north for the rest of the day, stopping once to fill up on gas and to change her shorts. The last traces of Ernst in her life had leaked out and wet her crotch as she drove. She smirked when she noticed the spot - something about it was inexplicably humorous.

So much for intimacy,

she thought wryly.

*******

She spent the night in a motel off the interstate, then in the morning she angled her direction slightly west. Without realizing it, she was heading towards the address on the envelope - the envelope she had tossed onto the passenger seat, as if to serve as a conversation partner during the trip. When she began to see signs informing her that her sister's city was less than 100 miles ahead, she realized what she was doing. She stopped at the next town that looked big enough to suit her lifestyle and pulled into a hotel.

A few days later, she had a job in retail. With her thin build, blonde hair, and flawless complexion, it was always easy to find a job. Managers knew that people buy more when they like the people they see working in the store. And whenever the manager was a man, well... they usually held out hope that Hannah would be more than just an employee.

The next afternoon found Hannah unloading her car at a small apartment near the center of the city. Calling it small is generous. But it was big enough for a bed, a couch, a TV, and a few bags of belongings. And when you never knew how long you'd be staying, it didn't make sense to spend money on anything more than that.

*******

A few months later, Hannah was still there, having failed to find an attractive guy who would give her enough space to make it worth moving in with him. Payday was coming up, and she was out of cigarettes. After nervously searching through her apartment and cleaning up a little in the process, she decided to try her luck with the car. Maybe she had dropped one under a seat or something.

It was evening, a Monday, and her stomach was complaining as she pushed aside trash from the floor of the car. Balling up several paper bags and putting them into one larger bag, she tossed the trash to the ground and contorted her body to be able to see under the passenger seat. It was early summer, and the sun still gave enough light to enable her to see one white cigarette on top of a few papers. She couldn't reach it, but she could get her fingers on the paper underneath it. Pulling the paper out, she finally got the cigarette within reach.

Putting it between her lips and retrieving a lighter from her back pocket, she picked up the paper to take it to the trash. She glanced at it and paused when she realized it was

the

envelope. She looked at her phone to see the date. Then looking in the direction of the interstate, she sighed in frustration. After a quick run up the steps, she locked her apartment door and went back to the car. She just

had

to know.

*******

Two hours later, she pulled up to a plain-looking townhouse on the outskirts of a larger city. The sun had set, but there were still some lights on inside. Hannah walked up the steps and paused. She heard voices inside - her sister's voice and a deeper voice that Hannah assumed belonged to her sister's fiance. She raised her fist to knock, then dropped it again. They were laughing. She could hear a TV in the background.

Hannah slowly retreated down the steps, feeling nothing but a vague curiosity. Were there really happy endings?

Stepping out to the end of the driveway, she could see them in the kitchen. It had been years, but her sister looked much the same. Older now than the scared teenager she had left behind, grown into a woman and resembling in many ways Hannah herself. Like Hannah, she was tall and thin with long, straight blonde hair. But unlike Hannah, her smile seemed genuine.

She was leaning over a sink, it seemed, and a handsome man walked up behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and pressed his cheek to hers. Their lips moved as they exchanged words. The woman smiled and put her hands on the ones holding her. Hannah could read her sister's lips.

I love you

.

Hannah had only said those words once, and it was to manipulate some poor, deluded middle-aged used-car salesman in Louisiana. Convinced of her love (and of her intention to continue screwing his brains out), he had given her a convertible off his lot. Within moments of verifying that the title had been transferred, Hannah had driven the car off the lot "for a spin." She raced to his place, cleaned out her stuff, and was well on her way to Florida by the time the sap realized that words of love are wasted breath.

Smiling at her own cleverness as she recalled tossing her ringing cell phone out of the convertible and onto the interstate that day, Hannah walked back to the car - the same car - and drove home.

*******

She wasn't going to attend the wedding; she was sure of that. Not if there was a chance

he

was going to be there. And why wouldn't he be? One of his precious little dolls was getting married. Not that she would have minded sharing some choice words with him, publicly exposing him for who and what he really was. But she had enough of a twinge of concern for her sister not to spoil her wedding that way. No one expected her to be there, so no one would be disappointed.

During the next few days, Hannah got restless. She had no work shift on Thursday, so she called off work for the next day, stringing together a four-day weekend. Scrolling through the numbers in her phone, she found Kyle. Immature, asshole-ish, super-hot Kyle. They had hooked up after a party a couple of months ago, but even when she was drunk she noticed how irritating he was. Kyle was not someone to spend time with, unless all you wanted was to get wasted, break things, and screw. And that's exactly what she had planned for her long weekend.

*******

Hannah woke up hungover. Where the hell was she? Her head hurt, but not the worst she'd ever felt. She must have fallen asleep before she had gotten too much to drink. All the same, she squinted and stumbled around the strange room until she found a bathroom sink. Splashing water on her face, she cupped a hand and scooped the cool liquid towards her mouth. Letting her face drip-dry over the sink for a minute, she tried to remember how she'd gotten there.