"Bridgid Monaghan!"
I heard my name shouted as though it was the voice of Godโor the devil himselfโcalling me and I dropped the plastic bag of groceries in surprise.
"Sean Healey?" I turned and there he was standing, bold as day in my small town in New York State. Him all the way from Ireland, and how on earth he found me after all these months I'll never know.
"Bridgid," he purred, and then the great handsome son of Adam swept his arms around me, his mouth went to my neck, no matter there might be people coming out of the market who might see us, and I felt one hand reach down to cup my arse under my skirt. They were familiar fingers as were his lips, as though this was a package sent to remind me of other times.
"Stop it, you lout," I said, but without the force I'd intended to scald his ears. "I left because you were never going to give me a your heart. And now you've come after me! There's always a part of you that goes wandering and pinching other girls that catch your fancy, or you're out drinking with your boys and leaving me to wait by the window." My anger and hurt welled up, that he could just dance back into my life like this.
"Bridgid, you foolish cunt, it's always been you. I went crazy when you left the Bluestack Hills of County Clare for America. There were no other lasses."
I looked up into those blue eyes of his, and remembered the Croaghgorms hills. But where was the truth and could I trust his honeyed words? I had spread my legs for Sean Healey, gave him my virginity and put my heart on the floor for him to step on. Could I let him walk over me again?
"Bridgid," he whispered as an old man gaped at my backside and then at Sean's fingers pulling up my skirt, "Bridgid, there'll be no cobwebs hanging about your pussy. I'm sure you take it for exercise as regularly as you wash it. Now, let's pop over to wherever you're living and put on the kettle for some tea."
That was a lie, of course, about taking my vagina out as though I were opening my pocketbook. I had only done it once, when I was overcome with loneliness.
It wasn't tea Sean wanted. It was a wee dram of whisky and a chance to stick his great dick up inside me...but those blue eyes brought back memories of when we were this close to being man and wife. And I had equally good memories of that cock which would choke a horse. This six-foot-tall hunk of man was the talk of our town back then. The other boys would marvel when they talked among themselves and the women would ask, "How does he manage to put it all inside you, Bridgid! Does it fit?"
A woman has to be elastic, I'd tell them, and so should her cunt be just as accommodating. And her heart, beating like a little bird in her chest? It too has to be elastic as a pair of knickers.
"And how are things back home?" I asked when we were settled.