(Unfinished) Pushed Away

-1-

'It seems like forever since we've done that.'

'By 'that' I presume you mean sex?'

'Don't start.' She smiled at me.

'What?'

'Being smug.'

'Smugness should be mandatory after sex, shouldn't it? Especially when it's as good as that.'

'Shut up and come here.'

I leant forward and she wrapped her arms around me, pulling me onto the sheets next to her. We embraced. It was romantic, but my inner pervert focused on the way her breasts pressed up against me, or how much heat emanated from between her legs.

'I love you.' I said, and ran my hand lightly from the nape of her neck to her butt. It drove me wild feeling the thin coating of warm sweat drying there, I had to sit up again.

'What's wrong?' She was wearing a coy smile.

'You. I can't... I can't even think about you without feeling aroused. You're too sexy, too well designed to turn me back into a teenager full of testosterone and little else.'

'You love it.'

I did. But I couldn't tell her. I tugged the sheets to expose her naked body to the cold room.

'Oi.' She giggled and grabbed at the sheet, saving herself from full exposure.

'Say i'm the best and you love me.' I continued pulling at the duvet gently, preparing for a tug-of-war.

'I love you, you're the best.' I let go of the duvet and she happily curled it around herself like a cocoon. 'The best twat!' She braced as I jumped on the bed next to her, my plan was to tickle her to death, or at least until she revoked her words.

'Ok- stop! A-ah- no, no!' She was gasping for breath amid fits of laughter as I pressed my fingers into her weak spots with little mercy. 'Ah, stopstopstop- ah! Fine, the best boyfriend!'

I let go of a particularly cruel grip on her hip bone and lay my head on her stomach before moving up a little, resting between her breasts. I sat there listening to her heartbeat slow from a dubstep beat to it's normal pace.

'...Do you think it'll be like this forever?'

'Nothing lasts forever,' she said. I sat up, giving her my best innocent face I could muster.

'Is this your way of breaking up with me?'

'No, it's just my way of being a pretentious artist.'

I had to sigh with some kind of humoured disbelief, she had this way about her, this confidence that I could almost touch, and it just made me want her even more.

'You need to stop being so perfect, and just stop mushing my brain up with that body of yours. I'll never get any work done today unless you go put some clothes on.'

'Oh no, no work, however will the rich architect survive without that extra thousand?'

'I don't earn a thousand a day.'

'Actually, how much do you earn? Don't think i've ever asked. I want to know how much I should ransom you for when you stop being able to make me orgasm.'

'A day's work... Well about fourty five hundred a month, so about one fifty a day, or thirty pound an hour.' I thought about it for a second, and remembered some rule of ransoms from a film I watched not long ago. '...I'd ask for about fifteen thousand, too much they'll decline, too little and you miss out.' I do my best mesmerizing stare and bore deep into her eyes... 'As for why, I better make sure I keep my bedroom skills honed then.'

She almost comically snaps out of what I can only guess was a daydream.

'Ha! What skills?'

'Fuck you.'

She laughed hard and pulled herself into a new cocoon shape, one that really resembled a croissant. It made me hungry.

'You want some breakfast?'

'So you're actually getting up, properly?'

'Yep.'

'Most men wouldn't leave a hot babe naked in their bed.'

'Since when do you say 'babe'?'

'Why not? Can't I be one of the 'dudes'? What if I was exploring a character for a story? Come on, let's go get some hoes and-'

'Nope. No. No, that's just embarrassing.'

'Artists need to push what's embarrassing and edgy, it's the unwritten rule, the code of artistes.

'You are a nice person wrapped in an massive ego wrapped in a hot body, like a artsy sushi roll.'

'You haven't answered my question.'

'I say that... I'm leaving the 'hot babe', as you put it, because I am off to make her breakfast, so she'll feel indebted to me and be more willing to have sex with me later.'

'Ah, sex continues to be the motivation. How very manipulative.'

'You can talk, ransoming your boyfriend because he can't make you go anymore? Not exactly the opposite of shallow.'

'Make me go?'

She starts laughing raucously, struggling to stay covered up.

'What?'

'I haven't heard it described like that since I was fifteen.' She was crying, I wanted to tickle her again. '...Make me go! Where do I go?!'

'23 Orgasm Street, Pleasureville, Cumshire, Great Fuckton'

'That was terrible.'

'Do you want some fucking breakfast?'

'Yes, fucking yes, I want a bowl of that chocolate oaty cereal, a pain eu chocolat, a coffee and a glass of fruit juice.'

'Jesus. Anything else, Madam?'

'No Jeeves, that'll be all.'

'I really hate you sometimes.'

'Love you too.'

-2-

I padded to the kitchen and stopped in the doorway, enjoying the feeling of being half-naked in the afterglow of sex, this kind of satisfying weakness.

My world just felt... better, suddenly the crumbs stuck to my sweaty feet felt sexy not gross, the rips in my favourite shirt were exciting, and the stink of exertion I exuded was just a arousing reminder of the recent exercise. How pathetic am I? Had it been long enough that I'd forgotten what this was like?

I shook it off and went for my coffee corner, a section of the kitchen devoted to the beverage, cafetières, bags of ground and whole beans, bottles of syrup and sachets of samples litter the worktop.

Coffee is the first and last vice I have and will ever have, something about the bitter elixir that starts an engine in my head like a heavy stream turning a waterwheel.

I decided on some rich Italian blend, a 4 roast, and clicked on the behemoth machine I was given when they closed the coffee shop I worked at. Well, ok, yeah, I stole it, kind of. I walked casually out of the front door with it and nobody stopped me, so I'm going to assume it was a gift.

The machine starts frothing, and i'm transfixed as a trickle of coffee slowly fills the first cup.

Without warning there's a hand gripping my groin and the other squeezing my throat, if I were more masochistic this'd be my average Saturday night, but the grip employed in both areas was a just a little too tight, a little too painful.

'Jess, what the fuck? Ow.'

'I forgot to mention, the coffee should be black and don't drown my cereal this time, I want breakfast, not a milkshake with roughage.'

She loosens her grip and stands on her tiptoes to nibble the bottom of my ear. I'm waiting for an opening. She turns to leave, satisfied that I won't be making bad breakfast and I take my chance, wrapping my arms around her, pinning hers to her side. She struggles a little while trying to hold back laughter, and I pick her up, dumping her on the nearby sofa.

'You have earned the ultimate punishment.'

Her face drops into a look of fear and amusement.

'No! Not that, I'll do anything!'

'I want nothing from you, except to see you suffer.'

I'm trying to keep my face straight, I'm trying to hold back a smile, trying to sound scary and intimidating. She tries to roll away but the sofa wasn't really designed for a quick escape.

'But, the ultimate punishment, don't you think that's a bit harsh? I won't grab you like that again, promise.'

'Too late.'

I lunge at her and she shrieks, she's not fast enough and I catch her mid-escape attempt. Time for the ultimate punishment. I pin her to the sofa and use a free arm to lift her t-shirt a little.

'No! Please!'

'I have no mercy.'

I clamp my mouth onto her hip area and begin to nibble and dig my nose in. She screams. This is my ultimate punishment, the deadliest of everything in my tickling arsenal, using my tongue, teeth, nose and chin on her hips, enough to drive her crazy. She's breathless and begging me to stop in seconds.

'AAAGH, AAGH, NO, NO, STOP, FUCK.'

She's gasping for air in between giggles and pleas, I decide on ten more seconds before I stop, and she continues to convulse as though lightning is streaking through her body.

'I'M SORRY. AAGH. STOP.'

The giggling is starting to take over, I stop, and she continues to twitch and laughs at her inability to control herself, in less than a minute she's been reduced to a drooling, guffawing mess. That, is the ultimate punishment.

'If.. you even try... to do that.. again, I call... the police.'

She continues to emit the odd involuntary giggle, I worry I may have done some sort of permanent nerve damage.