The Letter Opener 1

"I mean it! I'll kill myself! I'll do it if you leave me!"

I pressed the sharp point of the letter opener between my breasts. I could feel the cold point of the steel blade through my sweater.

She stared at me in horror. She knew I meant it. I glanced down at my wrists, and her gaze followed mine. The scars were healed, but still visible. Yes, she knew that I meant it.

"No, honey, don't do it!" she pleaded. "I won't leave. I won't leave you. Not right now. Not today. Please put down the blade, okay?"

I felt the carved ivory of the handle of the letter opener in my hand, cold and smooth and tactile. It had been my grandmother's. I always kept it sharp. It felt clammy in my hand, slick with my sweat. Slowly, I took it from my breast and dropped it to the living room floor.

She rushed forward and wrapped her arms around me, and pulled my head to her chest, comforting me. I pressed my face into her breasts, and sobbed.

"It's okay, honey. It's okay. I'll stay. I'll stay for awhile. I love you, you know." She patted the back of my head.

"But you said you were leaving me. You said you were leaving! I can't live without you. I can't. I won't!" I sobbed, dampening her blouse with my tears.

She patted my hair and pulled me close. "I'll stay the night. We'll discuss it in the morning. You'll feel better then."

I pulled my face from her bosom. "But you'll still leave? I'll kill myself as soon as you walk out the door, I swear I will!"

"Now, darling, you have to promise me that you won't do anything like that. Promise me, okay?" Her eyes searched mine, looking for confirmation, looking for a promise.

"No!" I screamed, pulling back from her. "I won't promise. I won't!" I started to look around on the floor for the letter opener. I won't face the world without her!

She pulled me back into her embrace, and kissed me on the mouth. I love her kisses. As her tongue parted my lips, I felt myself melt into her embrace, just as I always do. My will was meaningless. She is my everything. Soon my arms were around her, and hers were around me, her hands on my ass, kneading it the way I love. I reached up and stroked her face. She leaned in and kissed the tears from my cheek. I forgot all about the letter opener, forgot about spilling my blood all over the floor of the apartment.

"Let's go to bed," she whispered into my ear. "I know what will make you feel better." She took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

As we walked down the hallway to the bedroom, I suddenly thought back to the first time we had made love, many years ago. How we had first met. We had been standing at a bus stop together, in the pouring rain, and I had forgotten my wallet. I had been looking through my purse furiously, swearing.

"Do you need a dollar?" she had asked me, a stranger. "You don't want to walk in this downpour."

"Thank you, thank you!" I had said, grateful for her offer. "I'll pay you back, I promise."

"Oh, it's just a dollar. Don't worry about it!" she laughed.

But the next day, I waited at the bus stop to pay her back. I always keep my promises. She was touched. We went out for coffee. We talked, we laughed, we touched. Then we went to her place and made love like crazed teenagers. "You're crazy!" she had said. "It's just a dollar!"

"No, it isn't," I had told her. "It's a promise. And it's the start of a beautiful relationship." She had nodded in agreement.

Now, we stood at the foot of the bed in our own apartment, embraced, and kissed some more. Then she grabbed the waistband of my sweater and pulled it up over my head. I reached back and unclasped my bra, shrugged it off. There was still a tiny indentation where the point of the letter opener had pressed against the skin between my breasts. Then I started unbuttoning her blouse, gradually revealing the pale skin of her chest. I love her beautiful skin.

Soon we were both naked, but still standing, embracing, kissing. Oh, how I love her kisses! I moaned slightly, and felt my knees getting week. I raised my chin, let her lips ravage my neck....

We moved to the bed. It was a large four-poster, covered with a fluffy floral comforter. We lay down, side by side, and continued to embrace and caress each other. Her hands, her soft fingers and palms, found my most sensitive places, my most needful parts. Every part of me that she touched, my thighs, my hips, my ribs, came alive. I am alive under her touch! And I am dead without her. Doesn't she understand that? She cannot leave! There would be nothing left of me. I am a corpse without her. I am dust. I am gone. She must know that!

Her mouth found my neck again; she nibbled my throat, my shoulders, my arms. She buried her mouth between my breasts, nuzzling the soft skin, healing the tiny indentation from the point of the letter opener. She looked up at me, and I saw the love in her eyes. She would never leave me. Never! I just knew it.

She raised herself up, and turned around. I was on my back, and she straddled me, facing downward. She nuzzled my ribs, my tummy, my hips. Lower, and lower, she advanced toward my sex. She pushed my thighs apart, and sweetly kissed my mound. She kissed my thighs, left and right, up and down, before returning to my groin, kissing me full on my lower lips. She wrapped her arms around my thighs, and pulled my crotch up to her mouth. Her lips met mine, met in sweet embrace, as they always do; as I need them to do. God, how I love her!

Her legs straddled my face, and I pulled her to my mouth. How I love the smell, the taste, the texture of her! Clean and crisp, yet musky and smoldering, her sex, her essence, makes me complete. It makes me whole. I sucked it to me, I licked it, I loved it, I pressed my tongue inside of her. I tasted her lips, her walls, her soft nether embrace.

All the while, her mouth was on my sex. Her teeth, her tongue, her lips, were on me. They loved me, they caressed me, they devoured me. They took all volition from me, they consumed me, they engulfed me! Her tongue traced the contours of my labia, from my clit to my anus, and back up again on the other side. Up and down, around and around, she loved me and lavished me with the caresses of her tongue, her lips, her teeth. Her breasts, and her crinkly nipples, pressed into my abdomen as her mouth worshipped my essence. I pressed my face deeper into her groin, her sex, her nexus of love, as she gave me pleasures beyond description.

She rose off me and turned back around. She wanted to kiss me on my mouth. I pounced on her, pinning her on her back, and attacked her mouth with my own. Sweet, loving, biting, needful kisses! Hands and fingers entwined, panting and moaning and laughing and smiling. Our love for each other expressed itself through our bodies, our eyes, our souls.

I sat up, and looked down at her; her beautiful face, her beautiful body. She was smiling. So was I. But then I stopped smiling; she had said she was leaving. I was fooling myself.

"You can't leave me," I said softly.

"Honey, I have to leave. You are driving me crazy. The sex is intense, and the good times are great, but your moods! You have no control. You have no perspective. I love you but I can't be with you. I have to get out now, before I lose my nerve. Before I lose myself. I am sorry."

I closed my eyes. I felt my heart begin to race again, felt the pounding in my temples. "I'll kill myself," I said softly, slowly, deliberately. "The moment you walk out the door, I'll take the letter opener and slash my wrists again, and then I'll plunge it into my heart. I won't live without you. I really won't." I opened my eyes and stared deeply into hers. She gazed back, unblinking.

"Let's talk about it tomorrow," she said. She reached out a hand and stroked my thigh. The electricity of her touch ran through me, traveled up to my groin. She continued to stroke. She could see that it was making me horny all over again.

"Let me finish you off, okay? You were close to an orgasm. Let me give you the best one of your life. Would you like that?"

It's true, I'm intense. I have no control. And I love the orgasms she gives me with her mouth! Maybe, I kidded myself, if I let her give me this orgasm, she'll see how good we have it. Maybe then she won't leave. Maybe she'll remember. I was a fool.

I stretched out on my back, and spread my legs, raising my knees. I propped a pillow below my head so I could watch her work. She knelt between my legs, and flashed me her beautiful smile. She is so beautiful!

She stroked my inner thighs with both of her hands, her beautiful, soft, loving hands. Electric currents ran up and down, from my ankles to my hips. Then she pressed my legs ever so gently apart, and bent her sweet face to my sex.

Her lips formed a beautiful rosebud, and pressed the gentlest of kisses onto my thigh. Then she kissed her way up and down, up and down, both of my legs. On each trip, she got closer and closer to me. Finally, gently, lovingly, she planted her dainty kiss on my sex, already parted and glistening. I moaned with pleasure, with anticipation.

She pressed her tongue into me, a stiff little pink tube. She flicked it back and forth, up and down, making little scrolling motions deep inside of me. She gradually worked her way up my slit, toward my clit. Before she reached it, though, she worked her way back down. Then back up, and down, and up once more. Each time, she came closer and closer to my clit, but always avoided contact with it. I was moaning and sweating and quaking with pleasure. I had forgotten all about our argument. What a fool!

Finally, she brought her tongue to my clit, and gave it the gentlest little flick. I screamed! She waited for me to calm down, then gave me another flick, and another. But she never let me approach an orgasm. Then, she pressed her tongue down on my clit with a firm, even pressure; not enough to send me over my wall, but enough to generate a warm, continuous buzz. And she brought her finger, her soft, loving finger, and placed it inside me. I felt it enter me, gently, lovingly. She slowly rotated it, poked it in and out, caressed my sugar walls. The she turned her hand palm up, and began crooking her finger inside of me. The pressure of her tongue on my clit increased, and the flicking motion began again, slowly and steadily.

My heart was racing and my breath was a short, panting gasp. She flicked and crooked and worked me into a churning frenzy of sexuality. I could feel the orgasm welling up inside of me. She knew exactly where I was on my path of pleasure; she knew my body well, and all of my responses and tells. She brought me close to the edge, and then backed off, letting me calm down, before starting again. She took me to the edge, closer and closer each time, over and over. I lost count of the mountains of pleasure that we climbed together.

Finally, she increased her rhythm and her pressure. I knew that this was it; this was the final mountain on our climb of passion. Her finger and her tongue worked in perfect unison, boiling my blood and scrambling my emotions. My body was sizzling; my brain was no more than an observer. She brought me up, up, up to the edge of eternity. And then....

And then she stopped! She lifted her face and pulled out her finger. I looked at her in horror! My body was quaking, my flesh was trembling, my blood was boiling. I was in such need that I thought I would die. I stared at her. She stared back.

"Finish me! For God's sake, finish me!"

"Will you kill yourself if I leave you?" she asked evenly.

"What?" My mind was reeling. What was going on?

"I won't finish you until you promise me that you won't kill yourself when I leave you," she said calmly.

Sweat was pouring off my scalp. I felt as if my heart would explode. My soul was balanced on a knife edge; I need release! I need my orgasm. "Yes, yes, I promise! Anything! Just finish me, please!"

"Say it: Say you won't kill yourself when I leave."

"I won't kill myself! I won't kill myself! Just do it, just finish me, oh my fucking God..."

"Remember that," she said, looking me in the eye. Then she inserted her finger back inside of me, and stroked her tongue against my clit with a firm, steady beat. It only took a few seconds, a few strokes, a few licks, and I felt the waves of orgasm rock my world. I fell off from the knife edge, I tumbled down the cliff, I floated in thin air. My soul turned inside out and I screamed with pleasure.

She waited while I recovered, then crawled up into my arms. We embraced, belly to belly, and fell asleep.

I awoke in the night. She was in my arms, spooning up against me, fast asleep. She was so beautiful. She still is! I knew I couldn't go back to sleep. She had tricked me! She knew I can't break my word. She knew what a promise means to me. The bitch had tricked me! She used my love for her, and my need, to trick me. Now what could I do?

Lying there in the blackness, holding my beloved, I was consumed by my dilemma. I can't live without her, but she won't live with me. I would kill myself without remorse, without hesitation, if she left me, but for my promise. Damn that bitch! Maybe I can convincer her to stay? Maybe I can fool her that I would break my word? No, I thought, she would never believe that. She knows me too well. She is going to leave, and I'll be alive, alone, and I will never see her again. I am doomed! Why, oh why, did you trick me like that? I gave her a little squeeze, my conniving little bitch, my love. She squirmed a bit in her sleep, but I patted her hair and whispered soft words in her ear. She calmed and slipped deeper into her slumber. Oh, what can I do?

Then the solution struck me like a thunderbolt. It was so obvious! Why didn't I think of it sooner? It was simple, elegant, perfect. I slipped gently out of bed, careful not to wake my darling. I went into the living room momentarily, then returned to the bedroom. I did what had to be done, and then went to sleep, holding my beloved in my arms.

In the morning, the sunlight streamed in through the window, caressing our skin. I was happy. I thought about making a nice pot of tea for breakfast. I looked down at her beautiful face, and brushed a wayward hair out of her eyes.

I carried her into the living room and placed her on the chaise. She is so beautiful. I could look at her forever. I am so glad that she is not going to leave me. I'll get her some clothes soon, but for now I enjoy the sight of her beautiful naked body in the morning light. Her skin is a pale alabaster. A slight trace of blood trickles out from between her breasts, from where the ivory handle of the letter opener sticks out between her ribs. She will never leave me, and we will be happy together for a long, long time.