Fire Season

Akheri received Zizakh's text the next afternoon. His flight would land after midnight. If she could come over in the morning, he would make brunch. Whether or not to tell him about Simka tumbled her thoughts for the rest of the workday. At times, Akheri repeated she was responsible for her decisions and the rest of the bumper sticker sayings in her therapists' rulebook. As she became more tired, however, she blamed Zizakh--for failing to clarify their relationship, for his inconvenient job, for hiring Simka in the first place. She recognized her own immaturity. But guilt threw a blanket over logic.

Akheri arrived irritable. Zizakh no doubt expected a homecoming fuck the instant the front door closed. But inside he was moving around the kitchen conjuring the smells of garlic, onion, cheese, and bacon that filled the house. Big shuffled over for a cursory sniff of her leg.

"I hope homemade works," Zizakh said over his shoulder. "I couldn't eat one more restaurant meal. Steak and omelets in front of me. Grilled vegetables preparing on the patio."

Akheri, unable to fill the conversational space, got him talking about the solar panels. Her tension crossed the table. No, nothing was wrong, she said. Surges of emotion brought her close to confessing. Zizakh, obviously confused, ventured that he should have asked her before cooking this much food.

"You sure you're all right?" he said. "You keep rubbing your back."

"I have a mosquito bite."

Her mostly untouched food kept him from offering dessert. She let him clear the table alone.

"You said on the phone you might start a business," Akheri said, to fill another silence.

"Building other people's business is good. But it may be time to keep the profits for myself."

"What kind of business?"

"Any ideas? It's easy to say anything for money, but in my experience, doing what you like to do makes a significant difference."

"My answer's a cliché," Akheri said, and when he looked up from the dishes she said, "Boots. Shoes. Footwear."

"That's a cliché how?"

"Women. Shoe obsession. And I'd fail because I'd sell stuff like snakeskin cowboy boots and biker chick thigh-highs with fringe. There are women who want those things but it's a limited audience."

Akheri loaded the dishwasher. Zizakh wiped down the counters and stove. She finished first and, moving closer, placed a hand on his arm.

"Sorry about my mood. Can we wait until tomorrow?"

Akheri knew she was testing him and thought he deserved better.

"I look forward to it," Zizakh said.

Hesitant, still half-ready to blurt the admission, Akheri said she had a girlfriend request, if such a request was appropriate.

"My mom's birthday is this weekend," Akheri said. "I've asked her over and over again to do meet one on one. But she wants the entire family present. It's important to her. My brothers will act like asses whether you're with me or not. It's unfair of me to ask you to put up with their comments and giggles--"

"About what?"

"Last year I brought a woman. It was unbearably humiliating. The giggling and looks--"

"How old are these people?"

"I'm the youngest."

Zizakh whistled. Akheri apologized for asking but Zizakh said, "I can take care of myself."

Akheri's relief about the brunch drove out thoughts of Simka, until she arrived home and saw Simka straddling a bike in front of her building.

"You didn't mention you're seeing Zizakh," she said.

"He told you."

"It was obvious the way he mentioned your name."

A wave of defensiveness hit Akheri. "I wasn't sure about what's going on with him. Yes, it's been sexual. But we've seen each other maybe three weeks."

"No drama or anything, but when he told me he planned to make supper for his more-than-friend Akheri, I had a moment. This guy's treated me very well. Right? During the pandemic he paid my full rate, even if he worked from home. Whenever I showed up, he offered me 'extra food' he'd cooked or bought, because he knew most of my clients cut me. He invented errands for me to run when I told him I couldn't take his help. The whole time, he acted like it was all business."

"He doesn't know we were together," Akheri said.

"Well, I know." Simka let out a breath. "It's no biggie. Tell him if you need to. Or don't. It's your call. Zeez is sane. What happens, happens. It'd suck to lose him as a friend, though."

Very little happened, because Akheri avoided Zizakh the rest of the week. Work. Weariness. A bug. He drove to the brunch while keeping up a humorous flow that did nothing for Akheri's anxiety.

Zizakh joked later that her mother appeared pleased to see her child accompanied by a square in casual but conservative dress, with no visible tattoos and a coffee cake to add to the table. The family asked the usual polite questions with an edge. Zizakh's replies gave Akheri a look at his work persona, an alter ego that kept the questioners off-balance by engaging them with their own interests and putting forth a high-energy phoniness nothing like the Zizakh she knew. Here and there he took her hand, to the discomfort of everyone.

Akheri's mother offered little beyond pursed lips. But she mentioned the solar panels. Zizakh replied with a tolerably technical description. Smirks and stares from the brothers and their wives did damage. But wide-ranging talk on the pains of property ownership used up most of the oxygen until the cake arrived.

Akheri seethed the entire way home. Zizakh concentrated on the road. By the time they turned off the highway, he was staring straight ahead and Akheri was demanding to be dropped at home. "It didn't seem like a disaster to me," Zizakh said as the door slammed.

Akheri entered the foyer of her building. The largest of the day's deliveries had her name on it. Neither the company name nor the weight of the package offered a clue. Zizakh had bought her a pair of boots. The printed card in the box explained the style was Moravia, early twentieth century. The verbiage mentioned traditional needlework done by hand and the gold cap on the two-inch heel. It looked like a museum piece and, the stiff leather aside, fit perfectly. Akheri looked up the company. They revived three vintage styles per season. She suspected she would gasp at the price, had the company deigned to list its prices.

It was mid-afternoon. Hot, again. She debated whether to proposition Zizakh and risk a justifiable rejection. While digging for her phone she found a package in gift wrap.

Perfume. During brunch, he had slipped a bottle of perfume into her purse.

An hour later she texted asking to pull into his driveway. She drove wondering what would happen if a cop stopped her. A shawl covered her for people passing in cars. But a person standing at the window would see she wore a black thong bodysuit and the boots.

The gold heels made a sharp sound on the bricks of the driveway. Zizakh stepped outside and stopped cold. The feel of the fabric between her legs had brought out an erection that strained the bodysuit.

"I want to apologize," she said. "Did you, um, relieve your pent-up energy when you were gone?" Zizakh shook his head. "Since you got back?" He shook his head again. "Never do it for yourself," she murmured around her kisses. "Always wait. Always store up a massive load for me. No matter how long you're gone. Wait to spend yourself with me." And into his ear: "Thank you for earlier today. You cannot imagine how grateful I am. Follow me upstairs. I want you to take a long look at what I've brought for you."

She watched over her shoulder as Zizakh kept his eyes on her swinging ass. Akheri turned to him at the bed. They pressed together. Their grinding hips raised her erection while Zizakh's hands rubbed her hips and waist and breasts. She gasped as he teased her nipples through the fabric. His gentle kisses seemed to make her breasts larger and firmer and though she only imagined it, the vision of it in her mind increased her excitement. When his touch grazed her penis, she broke off kissing to moan his name.

"I want you to tear this thing off me like wrapping paper," Akheri said. "But since it's new, slowly undress me."

It was her summer for overly patient lovers. A half hour passed before Zizakh pushed the fabric free of her torso. Her bare breasts, once Zizakh finally bared them, accelerated their progress, and while he fed on her, Akheri pushed down the lingerie to her hips. He began to kiss her stomach while tugging at exposed wisps of pubic hair.

Akheri laid back with her arms over her head while he fondled her cock. When she turned on her side, face flushed, Zizakh shifted. They sucked each other, at first wildly, then Akheri mimicking the deliberate way he massaged her scrotum and moved his mouth up and down on her.

Akheri gasped around his cock at the first stirring of her orgasm. He offered to stop. She asked him to go on. Excitement made it possible to keep pace. She wrapped her hand around his length. Zizakh's head moved faster and faster. His hand coaxed out the first ejaculation. The pleasure left her thrashing on the bed.

Akheri was surfing the trailing end of the orgasm when he spun her to all fours. Clawing the blankets, she drew her knees to her breasts and leaned back as far as possible. His thumbs pulled her wide. For a moment she felt his penis pressing around her anus. When he found the opening, he thrust most of his length inside her. Deeper the next time. Deeper. Zizakh said her name as he gave her the last inch.

"It doesn't hurt?" he said.

I want to hurt. I deserve to be hurt.

"Don't stop," Akheri stammered into the sheets.

He pressed down on her lower back. High on his knees, he began to pound into her more forcefully than in the past, at the faster pace she expected of men, a mindless animal pace, with the partner's pleasure forgotten. The impacts on her prostate made her erect--to her surprise--and Zizakh worked her cock in time to the last all-out assault on her. Hard thrusts released cum that filled her past any limit she had ever experienced.

Later. Bodily odors mingled with the smells of candlewax and perfume. One of the boots was untied. A bedside lamp laid on the floor. His spectacular second ejaculation was drying on her tits. Akheri's second drenched the hair around his cock all the way to the curve of his buttocks. Their fluids soaked the fabric. A blotch of blood from the bite on his hip had begun to darken. Zizakh declared the sheets a loss.

They slept in the guest room for the night. His room needed to air out, he said. The breeze from the open windows carried down the hall. He awakened when Akheri stirred. A short bout of kissing and touching, and Zizakh was gone to take Big for a walk. She slipped on one of his longer shirts to step outside. Trees bent in the wind. A hot wind, she thought. Wispy pink clouds sped across the early morning sky.

Zizakh herded the dog into the front door. He rubbed his eyes.

Don't you see people and wonder, What about that teacher? What about that solar panel installer? What about that firefighter?"

"Ah. Mayim. She said you met."

"Yes, I'm insecure. I leave after driving over and trying to be helpful, and there's a woman outside your house and she's wow."

"Mostly we talk about fire science."

Akheri crossed her arms. "Isn't this when you tell me I don't have to be insecure?"

"Feel like you want," he said. "I will mention that Mayim does not go for penises."

The lovemaking after her mother's brunch left Akheri sore. Zizakh kept her that way during the early part of the next week, with her eager participation. Frequent sex always made her horny for more. Thoughts like moving in and out of Zizakh's willing mouth distracted her at work. At home she went back and forth on her doubts about a committed relationship. Mixed in there was beating herself up about finding Zizakh inadequate--if she did. But did she? Akheri knew she could find little gifts and sex with other people. But she lacked a past reference for dealing with the powerful effect of Zizakh's patience and calm and unconditional TLC.

Decide about him, she thought. And make the decision work. And after a pause: I wonder which part will be harder.

Zizakh's job interrupted their string of nights together. He flew out of town at midday. Akheri's coworkers gathered her up for an outing at the usual place. The conversation settled into a comfortable mix of gossip and complaining. Akheri excused herself.

On the way back from the ladies' room she heard her name. Mayim edged between two crowds of people--she applied a hip to clear a way. Now the sunglasses rested on her head. She had brown eyes. The fit body under her tank top and shorts drew attention from around the room.

Akheri bent close to hear her over the crowd. "Are you celebrating?" Mayim asked. When Akheri pointed out her colleagues, Mayim said, "Zizakh told me you have a birthday coming up, is why I asked. He didn't say when. Any special plans?"

"A surprise, he says."

"He asked me to inspect his fire prep when he gets back. Zizakh is a very ready person." She put a hand on Akheri's arm. "If you can slip away without getting in trouble, you're drinking with me."

Akheri could slip away. The first glass of wine helped with the initial contact. A second relaxed her. The conversation became quieter as the suppertime crowd thinned. Mayim pitched her voice lower. She maintained intense eye contact. In matters of attraction, Akheri carried a healthy self-confidence. She sensed a connection long before Mayim complimented her long neck. No one complimented a woman's neck unless they meant business.

"There's a place I like to visit once in a while," Mayim said outside the doors. "It's kind of a secret. Women only. Good drinks. Dancers behind glass. You pay to watch. Other activities, too. Dark rooms. Anonymity. You know that kind of place?"

Akheri needed a second to reply. "Not from experience. Women only, you said, meaning--"

"On both sides of the glass," Mayim said. "It's safe. A dive, but safe. The owners keep it open for short periods of time. It's how they stay ahead of taxes and church ladies who hate peep shows. We won't be able to be there for long. I go on duty later."

"You know I'm with Zizakh."

"Yeah."

"I'd like to see it," Akheri said. Later, she wondered how much of the answer was her and how much was the wine.

Akheri spent the day feeling excitement, anticipation, and worry. She was betraying Zizakh. Even-keeled, grown-up Zizakh. Akheri recognized he took their relationship seriously, that he took her seriously. He never drifted far from the present during their time together. His demeanor hardly changed when Akheri became upset with him, and if he set a boundary, he did it in firm but measured terms. Unlike her usual relationship partners, he did not have a drug habit, shaky job prospects, or a piece on the side. She had even considered whether Zizakh might, just might, be trustworthy enough to hear her secret.

Mayim drove her to what once had been a small factory. The building hid the vehicles parked in the lot. Mayim pushed a button and spoke into the speaker. A large man in sunglasses opened the door. Down a narrow hall, and down another. They entered a simple room. An older man in a blue suit smiled at Mayim. He took both of her hands. After proper introductions, Mayim asked about the Midnight Room.

"Open," the older man said.

They entered a bar busy with colored lights. Akheri traded looks with the handful of people in the place. The evening crowd had yet to arrive, Mayim said. Across the way, plastic strip curtains covered a door wide enough for a forklift.

"Do you need a drink?" Mayim asked.

"It depends on what I'm in for."

"You'll be fully undressing on the other side of those curtains."

Akheri thought, yes, she needed a drink. The contents of the glass warmed her insides as Mayim held apart the plastic strips. They entered a locker room that looked unchanged since it last served the factory's workers. A buxom woman in fishnets and a tight half-tee greeted them.

"She'll watch our clothes," Mayim said.

Once undressed, Akheri pulled on disposable hospital booties and followed Mayim down a ramp. The ambient light from the locker room faded. Total darkness took over. Mayim put her hand on Akheri's ass. They followed sounds. Moans. Gasps. Fierce whispers. Short breaths. Akheri brushed against a body. An unseen hand touched her hip. And there in the pitch-black Midnight Room, Mayim passionately kissed her. Tried to devour her, more like.

Their hands manically clutched-squeezed-caressed. Akheri thrust her hips forward when Mayim found the damp hair between her legs. Fingers traced the length of Akheri's sex. Mayim down her neck and breast until she found, and sucked at, her breast.

A stranger's arm wrapped around Akheri's waist. Gentle kisses landed on her neck. As Mayim went down, hands raised Akheri's arms to free access to her tits. A mouth pressed between her legs. Mayim's mouth?

At first. But a second mouth joined her. A hand reached underneath and spread itself across her bottom. The twin oral left Akheri too aroused to breathe or think. For a moment it ended. She heard her two partners kissing. When they returned, one surrounded Akheri's clit with her lips. The sucking left Akheri staggered. But if she had fallen the women surrounding her would have kept her on her feet. Mouths locked themselves onto her nipples, her own mouth, her neck. Akheri clutched at the other bodies. To her right she heard loud slaps followed by grunts.

A strobe light startled her. Herky-jerky slow-motion images showed her Mayim breaking off to bury her face in another offered vagina. A short-haired woman spelled her after using her thumbs to make Akheri wider. She saw her body touched in so many other places her mind spun trying to keep track.

The strobe stopped. Total darkness again, except for the spots in front of her eyes. Mayim resumed. Her wordless sounds came out in her unmistakable voice. At the first stirrings of orgasm, Akheri put a hand on the back of Mayim's head. Panting across the room turned into gasping cries. Mayim's tongue fucked Akheri's clit faster and faster. Her body tensed. The orgasm broke over her. Arms and hands held her up. Despite her pleas, Mayim only let up when Akheri's guttural cries began to ease.

Hands guided Akheri to a chaise. For the next hour, Akheri ate unending pussy. Women pressed against her face or presented themselves with legs wide. Once, when the strobe light started again, Akheri saw Mayim nearby, rubbing cunts with a heavily inked woman, both of them going at it so frantically others paused to watch.

"Was that an initiation?" Akheri rasped in the car.

"Nothing along those lines," Mayim said. "A strange energy takes over in that space. Our animal senses take over. Senses we don't know we have. But those senses pick up signals, too, and our bodies react. They knew you kept wanting them."

I did, Akheri thought. That room was everything I ever wanted.

Akheri drove to a restaurant. She asked for an entire pitcher of water. Zizakh called as she poured a third glass. It surprised her to feel so happy to hear from him. Atypically, he sounded unrushed. His endearments made her smile, his questions reflected an interest in her life that she never knew what to do with.

"I'm flying back tomorrow," Zizakh said, as if the news was the least important part of the conversation. "Emergency leave. I read the national forest is on fire."

"You can smell the smoke everywhere."

"There's a storm system to the west. Conditions may be right for a derecho. If it happens, the winds flowing out of the front will cause the fire to blow up. I'd like to save my house, if possible. I texted Mayim asking her opinion. But I'm sure she's busy."