Smoke and Secrets

When he was younger, there was a certain air about him. It made women's loins ache with excitement and thrill. Just one glance from his stormy blue eyes could send shivers down your spine. But, there was this callousness to him, a terrifying dryness that made most cautious around him. In fact, most women wouldn't approach him despite that odd, almost surprising, seductiveness he had. He had the dark, mysterious hair that most women at the time would have swooned over. But his icy stare was even darker. Initially, I stayed away from him for this reason, like the other women in our small town. But, I couldn't help but feel some inexplicable connection to him. It was this connection that tickled by curiosity, that caused me to step closer to him, though in retrospect, perhaps, I shouldn't have.

It was a hot, summer day in 1974 when I first saw him. I could never forget our chance encounter. It was at the Quick and Saves Mart on the corner of Wabash and Harrison. The sun was shining through the window, its light almost blinding. I was walking slowly through the aisles, a small grocery basket in hand. My hips swayed from side to side as I walked, staring at my feet. The bell on the door rang out as he entered the store, my head shooting up. He walked to the aisle I was in, his feet moving quickly. I stood frozen, watching him. His eyes met mine for a brief moment, and I could remember a horrifying chill pass through my core. His arm brushed over mine, sending a chill through me. My breath hitched and my basket fell to the floor, the few cans of vegetables in it clanking onto the floor.

He walked past me at first, not looking back. I swore underneath my breath, calling him a bastard hoping he would not hear. As I picked up the first can, I could hear his footsteps approaching me. He kneeled down onto the floor next to me, picking up a can. "Swearing is unflattering on a woman," he said, his voice a smooth monotone.

"And a lack of manners is unattractive on a man," a bit back.

He smirked as he placed the last can back into my basket. As he walked away from me, I could catch the faint smell of his cologne in the air, musky, entrancing, unforgettable. He was irritating from the moment I met him, but there was something to him that made me disregard the fact. Damn it all. I wanted him, not that I should ever have wanted him in the first place.

Soon after the day I had encountered him, he had become the talk of our small town. Not many newcomers ever came, and it appeared that he was here to stay, at least for the time being. He had come alone, with no wife or family which wasn't typical for a man of his age, though it pleased me knowing that it appeared as if he wasn't attached to anyone. Some would comment on his attractiveness, gossiping about what he was capable of in bed, et cetera. But, within a few days, that would all disappear when the town realized that the newcomer was no a generally nice or good person. None of us had known his name, though most of us referred to him as "the smoker" for his almost compulsive smoking habit. He scared some of the kids, who had made him out to be some kind of villainous character whose mission was to terrorize the town. The men in the town loathed him, and the women generally came to the same consensus despite the fact that a select few of us still believed that there was more under his skin than he was showing us.

It was one Sunday evening outside of the church that I had seen him up-close, again. Most families were at home, making a nice ham dinner for the holy day. I didn't believe in all of that, and so, I took a walk, alone. I didn't think I would find anyone along the way, and I preferred it that way. I wanted some time to think, but I couldn't do much more thinking when I saw him, smoking a cigarette outside of the church. I willed myself to walk away quickly, though my legs would not let me. He noticed me, and quickly walked toward me.

"Wait up," he called after me, though I wanted to play hard to get at this point.

His hand grabbed my shoulder, and he pulled me back to him. My back hit his chest. I could smell the cigarette smoke on him. "What the hell are you doing and why are you here?"

"Do you really think it's smart to attract attention to yourself right now?" He asked, holding me to him.

"If you're going to try any funny business, it probably is."

"I assure you, I'm not. I would like to talk to you, if you could calm down for a moment and ignore your obvious dislike of me."

I pulled away from him, "fine." He caught up with me quickly, and we walked side by side for a few moments, in silence. The air grew thick and it became almost impossible for me to ignore how much I burned for his touch. And yet, I refused to initiate conversation. He pissed me off enough as it was. But, the silence grew awkward and I hoped he would break his silence soon.

"You never answered my question." I broke the silence, unable to bare the awkward tension between us.

"Why am I here? Well, to smoke and to talk to you would be the obvious answer. But, that's not what you wanted to know. You wanted to know why I am in this town of yours, and that, I cannot answer."

"Are you with the FBI, or something, then? The CIA, the DOJ, what? You've got the suit and the secrecy."

He smirked at how bright I was, though he failed to reply. Instead, he switched topics. "You know, I do have a wife," he said flatly.

Though I hadn't meant to react to the statement, I did, with an "oh" that held so much weight to it. My mouth had curled around the word with pain, but not heartbreak. It was bitter disappointment that clung to the word palpably, and it did not pass by him without notice.

"Do you care?" He looked at me, an eyebrow raised.

"Do you care?" I asked back, unable to come up with an answer that I could wholly agree upon.
"Not in the slightest." He took a cigarette out of his pocket and played with it in his hands. He never lit it, to your surprise. "Though, your answer is much more important to me."

I stared at him, my mouth agape. A rush of need swept over me, swallowing me whole. "No," I breathed out. "Not at all."

He took me by the hand and led me to the motel he was staying at. It was a few blocks away from the church, though the walk seemed like it had lasted for miles. The moment we came to his door, he pulled my close to him. He couldn't unlock it fast enough. In a rush, he pushed me against the wall of his room, my back slamming against it. His hand cupped my face and his eyes stared into mine. "Please," I whispered. His lips met mine. The kiss was slow, yet filled with the lust we harbored for each other. It grew head quickly, the tastes of our mouths becomes one. He pushed his body closer to mine, and I could feel his hardness press up against my thigh. I moaned out in pleasure. His lips traveled down my neck, kissing and nibbling. I was in a trance, my head spinning with pleasure.

He unbuttoned my dress and watched it fall to the floor with hunger flickering in his eyes. The sight of my pale, white breasts dotted with rosebud nipples, drew him crazy. I put my hand on his chest, making him wait. "I want you to want me so bad that it hurts," I husked. I played with my nipples, rubbing circles into them. As I squirmed against the wall in pleasure, I watched beads of sweat drip down his forehead as he watched intently. He stripped himself of his clothes as he watched, imagining his naked body against mine.

His hand swiped over his hard cock which was dripping in pre-cum. I licked my lips as I watched his arm muscles pulse. His body was perfect, fit and toned. He was like a new-age Adonis, with beauty etched into every nook and cranny of his body. Every sinew was saturated with an almost God-given allure.

Unable to contain himself any longer, he picked me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. His laid on top of me, kissing my lips, my neck, my breasts. There were few places his lips had left untouched on my body, and afterwards, I became a near-breathless mass of pure lust. The room itself had disappeared in our minds, and we were left in a place where there was nothing but us and our need.

I moaned out as he inserted himself into me, tears rolling down my cheeks from the pleasure that overtook me. Our bodies were as close as they could possibly be, but we still wanted them to be closer. "Faster," I urged him as he thrust into me.

But, out of spite, he slowed down and watched me write in want with a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. "How much do you want to come?" he asked me devilishly. He thrusts had been brought to a halt and he hovered over me, his lips just millimeters from mine.

"I would do anything."

"Anything?"

"Yes," I hissed out as he thrust into me with wild abandon. My heart began to race as I felt my core erupt into flames. I couldn't hear or speak, taste or see. An orgasm drowned me like an ocean suffocates a person, but this ocean felt so sublime, and the water that suffocated me caused such ecstasy. I dug my nails into his back, writhing underneath him. He came, groaning out wildly. We collapsed onto the bed sheets, breathing heavily.

It was months later, and he still resided in our town. We had never spoken of our Sunday escapade afterwards, or even spoken to each other afterwards for that matter. I watched him from afar, and had seen him in passing, though I never attempted to speak with him. He had never made an attempt to speak with me, either. There were days where my heart ached, though I was a fool to think that he could have even the slightest feelings for me. I had been something he had used, and then thrown away. And while I had yearned that I could have thrown him away, I couldn't. There was too much keeping thoughts of him at the front of my mind, visions of that night repeating before my eyes whenever I tried to close them.

Then, there was the fact that I lived alone in a home with no husband or boyfriend. The town had accepted that I would most likely die alone, and I had too. But, weeks after our liaison, my period never came. The odds that I would no longer be alone increased. I didn't pay attention to it at first, but when my clothes no longer fit around my abdomen, I could no longer ignore the fact that I was pregnant with his child.

A/N: I'm thinking about continuing this. What do you think?