A west side short story part V
Evan awoke to a gentle hand caressing his chest. He turned his head and found Emma's brown eyes staring back at him as she snuggled up to him. A smile spread across his face as he greeted her and planted a kiss on her forehead.
"Good morning," Emma replied, her hand now moving to stroke his morning arousal. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well," Evan replied, biting his lip as she continued to work him over.
"If you keep going like this, I won't last very long," Evan said before pulling her close and letting his mouth explore her breast. As he tasted her skin, Emma's head tilted back and she slid his hand between her legs, urging him on with soft moans.
As he left her breast, his lips trailed down to her stomach, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses that made her arch her hips in anticipation. With his hands on her thighs, he continued kissing her softly, gradually working his way down until his tongue reached her most intimate parts. As she placed her hand on his hair, he intensified his efforts, working her over passionately. She begged him not to stop, unable to contain the pleasure that was building inside her. Her hips lifted off the bed as she held his head close, lost in ecstasy.
"I want you… know…Inside" She whispered.
He released his grip on her and trailed his mouth back up her body, teasing her erect nipples as she deftly rolled a condom onto him. With a gentle yet firm push, he entered her and Emma let out a gasp. Evan started to move slowly, his hips grinding against hers, while she squeezed his buttocks and whispered in his ear, "Harder." He complied, intensifying his thrusts, and they gazed into each other's eyes, kissing passionately until their rhythm peaked and they let out primal growls of pleasure.
Afterward, Evan rested his head on her breast, his body spent as he listened to the sound of her steady breaths.
Evan lay beside her, breathless. "That was amazing," he said. She stretched and smiled at him. "Your tongue is pure magic," she said, running her fingers along his stomach. "It's the best way to wake up."
After a moment of silence, she looked up at him and asked, "Evan, how did you get all your scars?"
"Life accidents," Evan replied.
"Many of them look like whiplashes, especially the ones on your back," she said softly.
"Honestly, it's been so long I don't even remember how I got them," Evan said.
"Liar," Emma said, kissing him on the cheek before getting out of bed. "We can stay a little longer," Evan said.
"It's not a holiday resort, Evan," Emma reminded him as she tossed his clothes at him. "We have to do our share of chores, like everyone else."
"Is it a coincidence that we're always the only ones asked to do household chores?" Evan asked as he put on his jeans.
"We're newcomers to the community," Emma said, tying her laces. "We have to show that we're serious and want to be part of it, at least in the beginning."
"I know, but still, I think something is..." Evan started to say before Emma wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him.
"If you find today too long," she said, her hand on his groin, "I want you to think about tonight. When my mouth takes care of this, we'll see whose tongue is more skilled."
Evan groaned. "Good job, now I'm going to spend the entire day with a boner," he grumbled, following her out of the room.
Later during the day, in the Laundry.
Evan James led a peaceful and uncomplicated life, finding comfort in Emma's loving embrace from dawn to dusk. They shared everything, and monotony was never a concern. Their daily routine involved working together, tidying up, preparing meals, meditating, and engaging in thoughtful discussions. They shared laughter, which Evan believed was the glue that held them together. To deepen their emotional awareness, they practiced silence during some activities, delving into their anger and revisiting the trepidation a child might feel when confronting the vastness of the world.
The house was home to roughly thirty people, though the number was in constant flux. Despite the fluctuating inhabitants, the communal lifestyle they shared was straightforward and contented. Days were spent working hard, listening to music, and engaging in meditative practices. For those in positions of authority, the opportunity to have multiple romantic partners was available, if they so desired. Overall, the atmosphere was one of happiness and camaraderie.
Occasionally, the entire community would assemble in the living room to hear the man they all called "Master" speak. While Evan did not consider himself a devotee, he found it difficult to accept the man's teachings, quietly rejecting them and keeping his thoughts to himself. However, he couldn't help but notice the intense adoration the others had for him. Even Emma's demeanor softened at the mention of the Master, despite the fact that Evan was certain the man had never spoken directly to her.
The group was always energized by the rare appearances of the Master, except for Evan, who grew restless. Though dozens of people gathered in silence to listen to his teachings, Evan could only bear a few minutes of it. His thoughts would turn to food, and he'd long for the Master to stop talking so he could sneak away with Emma to their room upstairs. A voice inside him would complain, urging the old man to finish his lecture.
The most surprising thing to Evan was how the once militant attitude of the home's residents had receded into the background or even vanished altogether. The many daily tasks and communal responsibilities had become the center of their attention, eclipsing any concern for political events happening just a few bus stops away. With no need to leave their home, the house had become a self-contained world, immune to the external forces of the universe.
Evan settled heavily into a chair in the laundry room, positioned directly in front of the washing machine that rattled and shook between a sink and an old, metallic shelf. As he sparked a joint, he flicked on the small television, a small distraction to pass the time until the machine completed its task. A grin spread across his face as he watched highlights from last night's Bundesliga games, elated by the progress he had made in learning German.
Everyone in the house was German, with the exception of two Austrians and Louise, who is Swiss-born. Initially, they had all kindly conversed with him in English. However, Evan grew weary of his helplessness to understand their conversations during meals or chores, constantly relying on Emma to translate. Thus, he made the decision to learn the language, driven to grasp it and connect more deeply with his housemates.
Hans strolled into the laundry and took a seat on a plastic chair near the ironing board. "Are you interested in betting on who will finish first?" he asked Evan.
Evan shook his head. "I don't know enough about football to wager my hard-earned money."
"That's strange," Hans remarked, lighting a cigarette. "I always thought football was England's national sport."
"It is," Evan agreed. "But it's never been my thing until recently."
Hans raised an eyebrow. "So, what's your sport then? Rugby? Cricket? Ballet?"
"I'm not really into sports," Evan admitted. "Though if I had to pick, I'd say racing."
"That's not a sport!" Hans exclaimed, his face creasing into a frown.
"Of course, it is! Motorbike racing, for example," Evan replied.
"How can that be a sport?" Hans retorted. "You don't run, jump, or dribble! The bike does all the work for you! So, the person with the best bike wins!"
Evan scoffed. "You can't be serious about this. Riding that kind of bike is already hard enough, let alone in a race where even the slightest mistake could mean horrible consequences!"
Hans smirked. "So, you agree with me? It's not a sport. It's a circus!"
"I give up," Evan said, throwing his hands up in frustration.
Hans laughed and pointed to the TV. "Did you see what he just did? That's why football is more than a sport. It's about art, strategy, and passion!" The camera panned to the stands where supporters were cheering their team on.
"I've never claimed the opposite. Didn't you find me watching when you arrived?" Evan replied, smiling. "Anyways, do you support any team in particular?"
"Hamburg SV, of course! We finished champions last year. It was an exciting season, with the suspense lasting until the last game, and went on to play in the European Cup." Hans said proudly.
"Really? How did the cup go?" Evan asked.
"I don't want to talk about it," Hans said, his smile fading.
Evan chuckled, "Fine… Have you ever played?" Evan asked.
"I used to before a bad knee injury that kept me away for months, so I decided to focus on studying instead. But I was good, so you'd know. I could have made it to the pros" Hans said, a hint of regret in his voice.
"I bet you were. I, on the other hand, have never played any sport," Evan said with a nod, trying not to laugh. Then, shrugged, "The only sport I'm good at must be running."
Hans chuckled. "Then, you must have run a lot of miles to get that cardio!"
"What cardio?" Evan asked, confused.
Hans grinned mischievously, avoiding Evan's gaze. "I'm talking about your night activities with Emma."
Evan flushed. "Oh, were we too loud?", he asked.
"I'm not complaining, Evan," Hans said with a casual shrug, still grinning. "You guys make Áurea jealous, so she takes it out on me, which makes me very happy. In other words, lately, my happiness depends quite much on your happiness. So, I'd like you to do me a favor and be very happy, Evan."
Evan smirked. "Well, I don't think I'll have any problem fulfilling that particular request."
"Thank you very much. I appreciate it", Hans said.
"Sure thing, you're welcome!" Evan replied, as he stood up to empty the washing machine, which had just finished its cycle.
"May I ask you something?" Hans inquired.
"Of course, what's on your mind?" Evan asked as he extracted the wet laundry from the machine and placed it into a basket.
"Do you love her?" Hans asked in a serious tone.
"Her, you mean Emma?" Evan asked, with surprise.
"No, the washing machine. Of course, I'm referring to Emma," Hans confirmed with a chuckle.
"Is this question coming from her?" Evan asked, a hint of suspicion creeping into his voice.
"No, we're just two pals hanging out, smoking, and chatting about sports and women. So, what's the verdict? Do you love her?" Hans repeated his earlier query.
Evan sighed and leaned back against the washing machine, taking a moment to gather his thoughts before answering, "Honestly, I don't know. I enjoy spending time with her and she's definitely one of my favorites here... no offense," he added, making sure not to offend Hans or anyone else present.
"None taken, but I have a feeling that there might be a 'but' in your response," Hans observed perceptively.
"You're right. I don't know how I feel, and I think she might be feeling the same way," Evan replied with uncertainty lacing his words.
"I understand what you mean. By the way, want to know what I love?" Hans asked, changing the subject.
"Football, women, and weed?" Evan guessed.
"Yes, but Romance mostly!" Hans said.
"Romance?" Evan asked, glancing suspiciously at Hans's serious face. "Define romance"
"You must understand what I mean…Like, the country's pop songs. They get it! In your songs, love is in most cases unrequired, but when you spread it, it becomes contagious and will come back to you," Hans said before taking a drag from his joint, and just then, Edgar entered the laundry room, wearing only a towel around his waist and tiptoeing.
"Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold! Cold! Need my clothes!" Edgar exclaimed, shivering as he searched through the laundry basket that Evan had just filled.
"They're still wet," Evan said.
"Damn it," Edgar muttered, dropping his clothes back into the basket. "What are you guys even talking about?" he asked, looking between Hans and Evan.
"We're discussing love and football," Hans replied a playful tone in his voice.
"Nice!" exclaimed Edgar. "However, is it the love of football or separately?" he asked Hans.
Hans replied, "It's both, actually."
Evan interjected, "I'm not sure I see the connection."
Hans cleared his throat loudly and began to explain with an example. "Imagine it's the second round of the Champions League semi-finals. Your team lost the away game by just one goal," he said.
"Go on", Evan said.
"The game is neck-and-neck!" Hans exclaimed, "But with just eight minutes left, disaster strikes - your team concedes a goal. Journalists in the stadium and TV commentators begin to express sympathy for the team, which now faces elimination on home turf. The coach remains motionless in his zone, his face betraying no emotion. It's unclear whether he's contemplating a tactical mistake or strategizing how to level the score in such a short time, or perhaps thinking ahead to the post-game press conference,".
Edgar interrupted, "Wow, that's intense! But what happened next? Does the story have a happy ending? Did the coach take matters into his own hands and score the goal himself?"
"But wait!" exclaimed Hans. "The crowd isn't dead yet! The twelfth player is on fire, still cheering and whistling as the team fights to stay alive. With eight thousand supporters turning the stadium into a real hell, the players refuse to give up, staying united and pouring their hearts and soul into every touch of the ball. They relentlessly push forward, getting smarter and closer to the rival's penalty area."
"Then, with just a few seconds left in regular time, a 21-year-old Brazilian player who isn't even a regular starter sneaks in between two center backs, catches a back pass from the captain, and kicks the ball into the net, igniting the stadium in a frenzy of cheers and celebration," Hans explained.
"But there are still two goals to go," Edgar interjected.
"It's not over yet!" Hans exclaimed. "The stadium explodes with energy as the team continues their attack, confiscating the ball from a confused opponent. Two minutes later, a cross from the right back lands on the head of the same player, and he scores a second time to tie the game with only four minutes to go!"
"Everything is to be done again for the visitors, who are exhausted after a long and intense match, surrounded by a grandstand in ebullition and facing a team coming at them like a shark following a blood track," Hans continued. "And then, the inevitable happens - in extra time, their nervousness leads to conceding a penalty, which the captain coolly converts. The final score is 3-1, sending the team to the final. The love the fans have for their team and the one the players have for each other won them a ticket to the final in the last minutes of the game."
"I wonder from what movie you stole that, but it made me horny," Edgar said.
"Really?" Hans asked before snatching his towel, stripping him naked.
Edgar chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. "As if I care", he said.
Hans grabbed his hand and pulled him close, prompting Edgar to straddle him. "You don't?" he asked playfully.
Evan interjected, feeling embarrassed by the passionate kiss they engaged in, "Could you guys find a room, please?"
"The laundry room is a room, Evan," Hans said between two kisses, as his hands gripped Edgar's butt.
"Don't be shy, Evan…I don't mind if you want to watch " Before retaking Hans's mouth.
"I'm all good! Enjoy yourselves, guys. Oh, and Hans, what about Áurea?" Evan inquired.
"She'll be fine," Aurea murmured in his ear, as her arms encircled his chest, and her lips brushed against his neck. He jumped, feeling her soft touch as her hand crept down his stomach.
"I should probably go," he stammered.
"But do you really want to?" Áurea whispered, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she grabbed his erection and flashed him a sly smile.
"Áurea, we shouldn't, Emma…" Evan protested.
"Would be so turned on if she were here," Áurea whispered into his ear, nibbling on his earlobe as she unzipped his jeans and began to pleasure him. As she stroked his cock, her other hand played with his nipple, heightening Evan's senses. Meanwhile, Edgar and Hans's passion intensified.
Evan turned his head towards Áurea and kissed her deeply, while Edgar's moans pleaded with Hans for more. It didn't take Áurea's skilled hand long to bring Evan to the brink of pleasure, causing him to let out a guttural growl and grasp onto Hans' shoulder for support.
Finally, Áurea released Evan and he sat back in the chair, hastily pulling up his jeans. Áurea then sat on his lap, kissing his neck tenderly, as Hans and Edgar hastily left the laundry room, their mouths still locked in a passionate embrace.
"It's as if I wasn't even here," Áurea exclaimed, rolling her eyes in frustration.
Evan gently pushed her away from his lap and stood up, feeling somewhat awkward. "Um...thank you, I suppose," he muttered.
"My pleasure," Áurea replied, grinning mischievously.
"Right, well...see you around," Evan said, quickly exiting the room.
"What?!" Áurea exclaimed, feeling slighted. "What about me? Who's going to...Evan!...NOT MY PLEASURE AT ALL THEN!" she shouted after him as he made his way upstairs with the laundry basket.
A few days later:
After finishing up helping Niels and Marc restore a wardrobe upstairs, Evan and the two men heard a commotion erupting on the first floor. Intrigued, they exchanged glances before making their way down the stairs. Once they reached the top of the staircase, they had a clear view of the unfolding scene. A young man with a shaved head was standing tall in the hallway, sporting a black hoodie and facing off against Edgar and Áurea, who appeared to be blocking his path to the upper floor.
"I wasn't speaking to you, faggot!" he snapped, shoving Edgard out of his way.
"Hey! Who do you think you are?! Get out of here!" Áurea yelled. "This is private property!"
"Or stick around and smoke with us, brother... just don't hit anyone," Klaus suggested, observing the scene from his seated position on the stairs. Despite his physical presence, his eyes suggested that he was in another world entirely.
"No problem! As soon as my sister grabs her bag, we'll be out of here and never come back to... whatever this shithole is," the visitor replied.
"Be very careful about what you say, midget," Áurea warned him.
"Or what?" he laughed, then spat at her feet. "Why am I even talking to you? We're in Germany, so home is everywhere here for me! Meanwhile, you're at home nowhere in Europe, bitch. So why don't you head back to your forest, savannah, or wherever your natural habitat is... I'm sure they miss you," he sneered, glancing nonchalantly behind her.
From the top of the staircase, Evan watched as the tension in the room continued to escalate. Despite Áurea's admirable self-control, Edgard's rage reached a boiling point, causing him to lunge at the visitor with a fierce intensity but the visitor landed a devastating punch to Edgard's stomach, causing him to collapse to his knees. The sound of bones crunching and the sight of Edgard writhing in pain filled the room, leaving everyone present reeling with shock and disgust at the visitor's violence and the pride he displayed on his face.
Áurea's voice rose in a panicked shriek as she rushed to Edgard's side. "Oh my God, Edgard! Are you okay?" she exclaimed, dropping to her knees beside him as he struggled to catch his breath on the floor. Meanwhile, Klaus didn't waste a moment, springing into action as he abandoned his spot on the stairs to join Áurea in lifting Edgard up from the ground. His voice seethed with anger as he addressed the attacker, "You're a complete sicko!"
"I don't give a damn if I have to beat every last one of you to get through," he snarled, striding forward with purpose. But just as he reached the front of the group, he was met with the sudden appearance of Evan, who stood squarely in his path. The intruder was taken aback, forced to take a few steps back as he locked eyes with Evan, who stood his ground with fierce determination.
Klaus exclaimed in amazement, "Wow, one minute you were upstairs, and now you're down here! It's like you're Goku or something!"
"I've heard a lot about your kind," he said, his eyes fixed firmly on the individual before him. The words were spoken softly, but they carried a weight that belied their gentle tone.
The teenager brandished his fist, displaying a set of brass knuckles. "Are you trying to go next?" he sneered, his eyes filled with malice. "Do you want me to knock your teeth out?" His words were delivered with a cold, menacing tone, leaving no doubt that he was serious.
Evan pushed the teen back towards the front door and stepped in between him and the others. "If you're looking for a fight, I'll gladly grant you the favor," Evan taunted. "Shall we dance? Look, I'll even make the first move." Then, landed a hard slap across the teen's face, sending him stumbling backward.
The young man reacted swiftly and threw a punch at Evan's face, but his move was too telegraphed. Evan quickly blocked it and firmly grabbed the attacker's fist, twisting his wrist and delivering another stinging slap to his cheek.
"Isn't this what you asked for? Would you like me to slap your ass instead?" Evan asked as he continued to slap the visitor's face.
"Enough, Evan," Emma's voice interrupted, as her hand landed on his shoulder. Evan stopped mid-swing, turning his head to glance at her.
"Just give me a moment to take out the trash," he replied, his tone unapologetic.
"Evan, stop it! That's my little brother!" Emma exclaimed as she stepped between the two, causing Evan to release Walter. "What are you doing here, Walter?" she asked him.
Walter shot Evan a hateful look, massaging his wrist before turning to his older sister and scanning her up and down in disgust. "I came to pull you out of this dump," he sneered.
"I came here by choice, and you're the last person on earth I want around," Emma said firmly, meeting Walter's gaze without flinching.
"You're in a fucking cult!" Walter yelled at her, "Look at you for a fucking second! Look around you! This place is..." he was about to say before his sister's hand made contact with his cheek, the sound echoing loudly in the lobby.
Emma's voice dripped with disdain as she addressed her brother "I overheard your comments to my friends, YOU'RE REPUGNANT!" she began. "Tell me, how did you even manage to make it to Bonn? Are our parents aware of your presence here? And more importantly, how did you track me down?"
Walter's gaze darted to Áurea before he coolly responded, "I simply followed the scent."
Evan's hand gripped Walter's neck, poised to strike once more, but Hans reprimanded him sharply. "Evan, I can handle my little brother on my own," she snapped, her voice tinged with irritation and her expression revealing a profound sense of shame as she pulled Evan away.
Niels spoke with a tone of urgency as he addressed Emma. "Emma, I don't care that it's your younger brother, but the master will be arriving shortly. So, I must call the police."
Emma was quick to respond, her voice filled with desperation. "Please don't do that! He'll leave immediately and never come back...EVER!"
"The master?" Walter asked with a frown. "Your guru, you mean...You are at his service? Do you take turns going into his room to suck his dick? Or does he pave the way for peace and... Celestial harmony through your buttholes with his cock? Are you all his personal bitches? Slaves?" Walter asked.
Emma's face twisted in fury as she launched herself at Walter, fists flying. "GET OUT!" she screamed before Evan intervened and pulled her away.
Walter stood still; his gaze fixed on the two of them. With contemptuous defiance, he spat on the floor before delivering his parting shot. "This isn't over. Consider it a first contact, nothing more," he sneered, before storming out of the house and slamming the door behind him with a resounding bang.
In the aftermath of Walter's visit, the incident was kept a closely guarded secret among their small group, with only those present in the house at the time aware of what had transpired. Throughout the evening, Emma was consumed with remorse and spent much of her time apologizing to Áurea for her brother's words. As night fell and the others retired to their rooms, Emma undressed and climbed into bed with Evan, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. Evan wrapped his arms around her and planted a tender kiss on her neck.
Concern etched across his face, Evan reached out to Emma, seeking to comfort her. "Are you alright?" he asked gently.
"I'm fine," Emma replied curtly. "Just still angry...that brat!"
"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" Evan inquired, his hand straying towards her leg.
Emma brushed his hand away with a sigh. "No, I'm not in the mood tonight," she said.
Evan's expression clouded with remorse. "I'm sorry for hitting your brother," he said, his tone contrite.
Emma's eyes flashed with a fierce glint. "I'm glad you did! He deserved it!" she spat.
Evan, sensing her anger, sought to defuse the situation. "So...do you want to talk about it?" he asked tentatively.
"No, it doesn't really matter," Emma replied dismissively.
Evan nodded, but his concern lingered. "Are you sure? Maybe I can help," he ventured.
Emma's expression softened. "Evan, you're adorable," she said with a small smile. "But just like I don't press you about whatever past you want to hide, I would like you to do the same with me...clear?"
"Okay, I understand. Sorry, I didn't mean to upset you," Evan apologized.
Emma leaned over and kissed him gently on the cheek. "You didn't. Good night," she murmured before turning onto her side and switching off the lamp on her bedside table.
