Once in a Lifetime
see disclaimer in Part 1
Her moans came in short, sobbing bursts as his hand closed over her breast, her chest heaving at the torturous slow forward roll of his hips against hers. With painfully heightened senses, she felt every second of the drawn-out push into her; lately their nights were all about the masochism as they did their best to confine their raging lust and hold back until they no longer could. She would beg and he would struggle for control; finally he would break and take her hard and fast until it hurt.
He traced idle patterns on her skin, his desperate need on one breast then the other as he shifted the focus of his lips and tongue. Still he pressed forward, waiting for the slow trigger of release before rolling back.
He kissed her throat and she gasped; she clutched his shoulders and he moaned. She couldn't stand it any longer--if he wouldn't give her what she needed, she would wreak her vengeance on him, waiting until the next night if she needed to. Tomorrow she would be the one playing with him...
He trembled briefly and cursed helplessly as his hips slammed into hers. She let out a tiny cry of surprise as he thrust harder, pushing deeper; it became a moan, rolling and throaty, as he kept going. It was like dominoes--getting the momentum, he just kept building speed, until her body didn't have time to register each individual crash of their hips. She cried out his name, was going to scream it, but he saved her by capturing her lips with his, silencing her in the carnal clutch of tongues.
She still felt, and what she felt just made her need more. She wanted it--it was the pleasure in her life, the joy. The desperation and the lust was what helped her keep her head up. She was used to it, and she loved it.
He collapsed upon her, completely spent, gasping for air.
She tucked her face against his neck, twined her hands in his hair, and smiled.
---
Lisa blinked back to reality as the huge heavy man she'd slept with eased back, sighing, and placed a fat wad of paper money in her hand. She watched lazily as he put his clothes back on and tottered out the door.
She rarely got morning jobs, but this one was good, since the man was rich. Judging by the faint ache in her lower body, Lisa reflected that he probably hadn't been too bad, but all she had seen and felt was Kaze with her. She still flashed back to him whenever another man tried to love her.
What she should have been preoccupied with--and in some ways, still was--was Colin Byrne's unusual proposal. She needed some place to go, it was true. But living with a blurry-faced gaijin who she'd only met twice...?
And did he really only want to live with her? Practicality dictated that the answer was no. She was a whore, the only services she could give were sexual, and he was a man. He would want her body more than he wanted her company. She knew that all her social skills had gone down the drain with Kaze's death; she was just as much an ice cube with people as he'd been. It was the only reasonable explanation. People didn't exactly have pure, untarnished souls like this Colin Byrne seemed to own. There would be other reasons he wanted her around, she was sure of it.
She wasn't sure how long she'd been sitting and staring at the ceiling when Fuuko sauntered in, closing the door behind her.
"So, how'd it go with Handsome the other night?"
"He wants me to live with him..."
Fuuko's thin straight brows shot up in surprise. "Girl, you gonna let this chance slide by?"
Lisa just looked at her, nonplussed.
"You can get outta here! Isn't that what every girl wants?"
Lisa shrugged; her still-bare breasts flipped with the tiny motion.
"Seriously, Heartbreaker. You can get out, you can find something else to do, and you can tell Loverboy that you've had it with him a few months in. Once you get past him, you can climb back up to wherever you were until your ex-main squeeze ditched you. Don't forget. We use the men. And this one has a big, neon sign on his ass that screams out 'take advantage of me'."
Lisa shrugged again and curled up in the blankets.
"You've got another customer, by the way. Looks like he'll be done in a minute though."
Rolling her eyes, Lisa snuggled deeper. It was one of the worst things about her job--the idiot kids who came in just wanting to become Men, as if they thought that five seconds' worth of bad sex would do it for them.
"Don't bother to get dressed. You're the most jaded woman we've got in here. Scare him off." Grinning, Fuuko patted Lisa's shoulder and mosied out of the room.
The kid came in. Lisa fought the urge to roll her eyes. He was still wearing his uniform, for God's sake. He looked to be just barely into middle school, probably pubescent for a year or so. As Fuuko had predicted, he seemed a bit taken aback by the sight of a grown woman sitting nonchalantly on the side of a still-rumpled bed, legs crossed at the knees, wearing only a well-stained pair of lace panties.
Or perhaps it was more the perfect calm of her expressionless face, or the mix of mild boredom and annoyance in her eyes.
But business was business.
The boy was horrible. There was barely the time for a flash of
thick moan
greedy nursing
thrust
before it was all over. However, she did get paid. A lot. It was generally only the rich brats who came looking for professional prostitutes their first time.
The rest of the day was a lazy, customer-less blur. Lisa was bored. And when she was bored, she had more time to think. Which was usually very bad.
At times like that, she always ended up wondering how the hell she had not been able to find her way back to the agency.
They would've looked after her, she was certain. They'd have sent her home, kept her company, commiserated. Maybe it wouldn't have been this bad, if she'd found them. She'd have been taken care of.
But she'd found Fuuko.
And her days as an agent were long gone. No one would even recognize her if she found her way back to them and walked through the door. There was a time when Lisa Pacifist could've been saved, but now she was dead; all that remained of her was Lisa Heartbreaker, the whore who lay half-dozing with the semen stains of complete strangers all over her underclothing.
There was yet another knock; Fuuko and the stranger were back.
"He's payin too, so you know what that means," Fuuko announced, flopping down next to her on the mussed-up bed. "But first we all need to talk."
"Are you going to accept my offer?" blurry-faced Colin Byrne asked hopefully.
Fuuko's hand found its way under the covers to Lisa's thigh and pinched it.
Sighing, Lisa nodded after a long pause.
"I was afraid you wouldn't," said the gaijin. "Why?"
"My baby," Lisa replied simply. She wasn't around to mince words.
"I told you about her awkward situation," Fuuko said softly with a nod to the foreigner. If Lisa had been in a more irritable mood, it would've been her fellow prostitute's turn to get pinched. Or kicked. "She needs a place to stay, whether for maternity leave or something a little more permanent."
"I was hoping the arrangement would be of a more permanent kind," Colin Byrne murmured, his voice heavy and suggestive with things that Lisa Heartbreaker could no longer understand.
"Now that's settled, I'll leave you two... alone for a bit," Fuuko said with a wicked grin, meandering out the door.
Colin Byrne was silent, but turned to Lisa and pressed his body over hers.
"I don't just want to live with you. I want to marry you."
Lisa did not respond to the whisper. Her mind was already gone.
After so long, they were still celebrating the little revelations, the thousands of ways their bodies could fit together. Her blood thrilled with wonder every time they made love; he was always on the cusp of some new idea, some fresh way to please her. What with his silence, one would hardly think he had such a devious mind. He would kiss her in ways she had never been kissed before, in ways she had never considered would bring her so much pleasure, in ways she'd always thought women kissed other women. She had no idea how he knew those things, but he knew them and he used them and they woke something burning, something desperate in her body. God, and the spirits--the man could kiss.
And as he would kiss the depths of her, he would drive her towards each peak of pleasure with the work of his hand. She'd never considered how a caress could be so torturous until she'd begun to make love to him. One would think that such a simple touch along her back or thighs or breasts wouldn't elicit such a response, but it did. He did.
His body was beautiful. Lean and tough and sculpted and scarred but beautiful. She would stroke along the angles and planes of his back and tell him so. She knew that he felt the same way about her. He was the first man she had seen naked and she could tell that hers was the first nude body he had seen, but they both knew that nothing could compare to each other, no matter how many others they would see in their lives.
When he told her he loved her, she knew she must be lovable. When he told her she was beautiful, she knew that her body was good enough to reach his desire. She could define herself by his awkward but heartfelt murmured compliments.
Their love was grounded in sex but it wasn't just the sex that kept them coming back to each other every night. She knew that because she wouldn't have worried so much when he got into his daily fights otherwise. The burning ache along the line of her breastbone was something new; it was something she'd only felt with him. She loved him, even more than she wanted his body; he loved her the same way. He didn't have the words for it, but she could tell.
With her face buried in his chest, listening to his even breathing as he slept, she could tell.
She would love him forever. No matter what happened to her, even if he died tomorrow--she would love him forever. There would be no way she could ever let go.
He had to stay alive... for her sake...
And it was true. She couldn't let go.
Even when she was going to live with this strange new man, she couldn't let go.
She would keep on loving him--Lisa Heartbreaker, who loved no man, would always have Kaze in her heart, would always need him, even after his death.
Always.
(TBC)