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Subject: {ASSM} "The Bastard, Chapter Five: Elizabeth"  (MF, rom, slow, oral, anal)
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Date: Thu, 16 Feb 2006 17:10:02 -0500
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The Bastard  (MF, rom, slow, oral, anal)

by H. Jekyll

Chapter Five of Five:  "Elizabeth"

*  *  *  *  *

Copyright 2005-2006 by H. Jekyll. All rights are reserved. Do not read
this if you are either under the legal age to read sexually explicit
stories, or you live where it is illegal to read such stories.

An earlier version of "The Bastard" appeared at Ruthie's Club. An
illustrated and formatted version can be found there.

The only reason to stay in on-line life is the ability to meet
interesting people. Please write with criticism, praise, or
conversation: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com

H. Jekyll story archives:
Alt Sex Stories Text Repository
(/files/Authors/h_jekyll/)
Ruthie's Club (http://www.ruthiesclub.com/)
StoriesonLine (http://storiesonline.net/home.php)

*  *  *  *  *

Chapter Five: "Elizabeth"


I was wrong. Something else happened.

It happened that Elizabeth came to see me late. Very late. I must have
fallen asleep, because I woke to pounding on the door. I don't know how
she got into the building. I thought I heard her voice calling in a
dream, but she pulled me out of the dream and through the dark hall and
the living room. The only light was the yellow gleam from the street
lamp in the alley, streaming up through the windows to project drops of
melted snow onto the walls and ceiling.

She was standing almost inside the door frame, and there was snow on
her shoulders, on her coat, in her hair, on her shoes. There was at
least a sprinkling on everything that was hers, and she was shaking.

"You bastard!"

Even in the dim light of the hall she was paler than usual.

"You bastard!" Shaking with rage. There was nothing I could say to her
about it. It didn't matter anyway. 

Don't say anything to make her feel bad afterwards. Just take it and
let her go.

"You could have waited until morning to tell me that," I said, thinking
shut the fuck up, Ed. "No reason to go out late in the cold."

"You bastard! You're all the same!"

Something different in that. What's going on, Elizabeth? There's
something else going on. And your face. It's too pale. Your lips. It's
shadowy here, but I think they're tinted blue. Jesus! She wasn't
shaking with rage but with cold.

"Where are your hat and gloves?"

"You bastard!"

"Where are they? You're freezing!"

"You... I don't know. I left them."

"Left them?"

"With him!"

"Oh, shit! Come in and warm up."

"No!"

"You're freezing! At least get warm."

"No."

"Come on in. Let the bastard do something right for a change!"

Elizabeth didn't pull her hand away when I took it and led her across
the room. She shook terribly, like someone in a fever. Her hand was dry
ice. I thought it might be frostbit. She was quivering, shuddering. She
must have been outside a long time. She hunched over the radiator and
held her hands to it.

"I'll get you something hot."

She didn't answer, so I went out into the kitchen and made hot
chocolate. Hurry, damn you! When I returned the only difference was
that her coat was lying on the floor. Her hands and face were almost
touching the radiator.

"Here." But she couldn't. Not at first. Her hands shook so much she
spilled some chocolate.

"Let me help." I held the mug to her lips. She didn't try to stop me.
She sipped a little then after a minute took it back from me and held
it herself, even though she would shake every few seconds. She stood
over the heat, sipping and looking out the window, never at me. 

There wasn't much to see out there. The snow wasn't deep enough, not
yet, to cover the tar paper or roofing cement of the buildings along
the alley, so it was a gritty, cold scene. The lamp made everything
yellowish. Steam came from some pipes, whipped around in the wind, and
disappeared.

Outside you could hear the wind. Inside there was just a tiny whistle
in some spot that needed caulking. The snow was now mixed with sleet
that ticked off the base of the window. Elizabeth stood and sipped, and
I just looked at her standing against the window and thought, and the
only regular sound was the occasional ticking of sleet on glass.

"You're a bastard. All of you."

I began to have an idea what had happened.

"What did he do?"

Elizabeth turned toward me and put the mug down.

"He's just like you."

"What did he do?"

"What didn't he do? What you all do. His own version."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Hurt me?" Elizabeth laughed. It was an awful laugh. "You hurt me! He
disgusts me. He wants me to do a girl." She closed her eyes. "He wants
a threesome. What doesn't he want? Is there anything you don't want?"

She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her stomach as though it
hurt. I knew that look. She waited -- it was obvious -- for me to
answer, and finally looked back up. There was nothing to say. There was
nothing for her here. She shouldn't have come.

"I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? What are you sorry for? Because you're not getting any
of it?" 

It was here that she began crying. Don't do that. Please don't. Not
again.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry you were hurt again. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm
sorry for everything. I'm sorry I'm such a bastard."

She was still crying. Quietly, like everything else. I could hear more
ticking of sleet against the window than I could hear Elizabeth cry in
little sighs. I reached out to touch her shoulder.

"Don't!" She swung away from me, to the window again. After a minute I
took the mug to the kitchen because I couldn't stand it.

When I came back she wasn't crying. She began talking almost right
away, in flat, tough-sounding tones, without looking at me.

"Tell me something."

"What?"

"Did you ever care for me at all?"

I didn't answer. I wouldn't. I don't think she really wanted an answer.
Let her talk, then go.

"Did you? Or was it all a plan to get what you wanted? Was it just your
way of getting into my pants, of getting into my ass?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

"You're really good at it, you know. You can make a girl feel all
excited. Get her all warm and shivery. You're good. Do you have lots of
practice? You know how to make her think you're the one, the real one.
I bet you get to screw any number of women that way."

I stayed mute. Don't be drawn into it, Ed. Let her talk herself out.

"Well?"

There was nothing to say. Nothing that would help.

"Was I just the rectum du jour?" After a minute. "I bet you thought I
was awfully easy. But you see, I never fell for anyone before."

When she said that she dropped the tough-girl act and started crying
again, in the middle of the last sentence. A tear meandered down her
face, through the drops projected onto her from the window.

"You were the first one."

Oh Jesus. Have you ever really hurt anyone? I did her good. I'd known,
but it's different knowing it and seeing her keep hurting in front of
you. It was as bad as when she caught us. No time had passed at all.
Something, a song lyric, some words swirling around in here about the
one you always hurt. You son of a bitch.

"Well, I'm sorry to ruin your perfect night. I'm sure I've completely
embarrassed myself. I'll be going now." She picked up her coat and
started for the door.

"No!" Don't say it!

"Good-bye."

"Don't go!" Shut the fuck up, Ed!

"Why not?"

"Don't go." Hurry! I'll kill you when the wolfsbane blooms, and the
moon is full and bright.

"Why not? I'll be fine, once I'm away from you."

Give a reason! Think! "You'll never get a cab, not here, at 2:30, in
this weather..."

"You bastard!" she yelled.

She ran at me and tried to pound me with her fists. Her coat fell to
our feet. When I grabbed her wrists she struggled and kicked and tried
to yank a hand free to hit me. "You bastard, you bastard, you bastard!"
And then she collapsed against me and was crying on my chest, and my
face was down next to hers and I was talking to her again.

"Don't leave. Stay. Please, stay. Please."

I was crying too, and kissing her hair, and holding her up.

We stood like that for several minutes. I don't know how long. She
never struggled, never tried to get away. Her face was against my
chest, her arms at my waist, my arms around her, my cheek on her hair,
and we were swaying together. Our shadow against the wall in the yellow
light was swaying along with us, looking warm and affectionate. Spots
and trails of melted snow projected onto the wall and ceiling.

And I was sick at heart.

I was sick at heart because I was so weak. I had given her hope. I had
to crush that hope. I had to hurt her all over again. At least maybe I
could spare her the big hurt.

*****

Finally we separated, pulled back half a step from each other, our
hands finding each other and holding on. Elizabeth was looking up at
me. I think she expected us to kiss, but I had to resist or I couldn't
go through with it, and that would mean stringing her along. I had to
cut the string. The light was on my face now. She could see my face was
wet and, thinking of these things like I do, I decided I could use that
fact to help get through it. I pulled her toward the couch.

"Sit down, Elizabeth. Please. I have to say something."

I sat on the coffee table and wiped my fingers over my eyes. How to
start? Get it out fast.

"I'm a monster. I'm a bastard. What you said about me, it's the truth.
You're better off leaving."

She didn't look startled.

"If you'd asked around, you would have found I have a reputation." She
started to say something, but I waved a hand and went on. "In your
circle there are people who know. I've done things with some of them.
I'm surprised no one warned you. So yes, when I started taking you out,
it was for the sex. Not just. But, yes, mainly for the sex. No, it was
all for the sex! It was calculated. I'm attracted to talented women.
The more talent, the more the attraction."

"Why are you telling me this?" She was backlit by the street lamp.

"Because you have to know. I almost never lie." What never? Hardly
ever. And I'm hardly ever sick at sea. Stop it! Go on.

"But I don't tell the truth, either. I let people draw conclusions. I
need you to know. If I don't tell you now, I won't ever be able to. I'm
a monster. I'm sure I'd enjoy doing all the things that other guy
wanted to do."

Her voice never got hard. "So. So is this where you tell me I was right
and you never cared for me?" What do you say? There was my opening.
Miss Straight-Line was setting it up. "Did you? Did you ever care for
me?"

"No. I never cared for you."

Please believe me. Don't. Please do. Because the sun is filled with ice
and gives no warmth at all. That much is true. But Elizabeth didn't
believe or disbelieve. She shuffled, kicked her coat. She bent to get
it, but stood back up instead.

"Then why did you ask me to stay?"

"I thought we might sex." And it don't snow in Boston, Mass., in the
wintertime.

"Then why are you telling me to go? Edward, tell me the truth! At least
give me that!"

Oh no. She knew. She must, somehow. Was it stapled on my forehead?

"I always wanted sex with you. I wanted your ass. I wanted it the very
first time I saw you, before we ever talked." I stopped for a breath.
Let me try some truth, the whole McGillicuddy. Maybe. "Then it became
different. It wasn't one-sided. You weren't a fool. I wanted to be with
you when we weren't having sex. I thought about you during the day. I
even had little daydreams about our being together, having kids, the
whole nine yards. Me." I shook my head. I said "me" ruefully enough to
make it believable.

We sat for a few minutes not looking directly at one another. I was
waiting for her to ask the obvious question, and finally she got around
to it.

"If you cared for me so much, why did you do that with Justine?"

"Because I'm a monster."

"What do you mean?"

What do I mean? I don't know how to tell you. The words come out all
knotted, so I can't say them straight. It used to be so easy with you.

"It means I'm bad news. It means I wanted to, and I could, so I did it.
I loved you, and I still did it. You wouldn't do what I wanted, and
Justine would. She seemed to like it. But I probably would have done it
with her even if you did like it. I like variety, too, and she was
someone new. I always do that. Always! There were others while we were
together, too. That's what I mean."

After a moment: "What am I? Do I get to be your mother confessor? Do
you want my forgiveness?"

"No. I don't expect you to forgive me. Why would you? You're better off
without me."

"Why are you saying this? What do you want? I can't tell what you
want!"

"Elizabeth. What I want, is I want you to be happy. That's what I want.
And that means forgetting about me."

We sat facing each other in another silence. The sleet had stopped and
the snow was heavier, almost obscuring the building across the alley.
From the stairwell there was the sound of a door slamming, some steps,
the screech of the elevator door, a click, and then the whine of the
motor.

"This is one of those `It's not you, it's me' speeches, isn't it?"

"Yes. But it's the truth."

"I don't believe you."

It's time to give up, Eddie boy. "I guess it doesn't matter."

"You never loved me! You couldn't and talk like this."

"It doesn't matter. There's no reason for you to believe what I say."

"So then tell me the truth."

"I haven't been lying. It's ... complicated."

"Tell me!"

"Okay." I shook my head. "Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. I cared for you. I
still do." You dumb idiot, Ed! "I hate it that I hurt you. I miss you."

Elizabeth didn't respond. She turned away. I held my breath, but she
turned back. "Then why didn't you try to get me back? I would have come
back, after a while. You had to know that."

I walked over to the window to watch the snow. How do you answer, say
the thing that is dead solid perfectly true but absolutely wrong? It
would make me too sympathetic. I couldn't make her see me from the
inside. There's no way.

"I had to let you go. I had to. It would happen again. And again. And
again. I know myself, Elizabeth. I'm not an idiot. I thought you would
get over it and find a nice guy. I thought he might be the one. Hell, I
was sure wrong about that. But there are nice guys out there."

She had turned around on the couch to look at me. I couldn't get a take
on her.

"Why couldn't you tell me this before?"

"Shit. I couldn't stand to have you even see me. And what if? What if
you wanted to get back together? I'd just hurt you again."

It was quiet once more. We'd be through with this in a minute. She'd
finally understand, and leave. She'd get on with her life. I could do
what I needed to do. I waited for her to tell me to fuck myself, and to
gather her things. I was expecting almost any sign of outrage. What I
wasn't expecting was no sign at all, and I never expected what she
actually, finally said.

"Wouldn't that be my choice?"

"Elizabeth!" This was never going to work. "Shit! Damn it Elizabeth, I
know myself! New fantasies are always there, always floating around.
Always! Whatever the fantasy is, I want it! I want it. With you or this
woman, or that one, or some other one! It doesn't matter. Shit! I want
it! It grabs me. Even here, right now, they're here, even when we're
talking. Right this minute!"

She didn't do anything. Maybe I was getting through. But no.

"What fantasy are you having right now?"

"Don't go there."

"You brought it up, so you have an obligation. Spell it out. You want
to be so honest." She twisted the word `honest.' "Well, tell me!"

"Okay. Okay. I noticed the frost on the window... No. I won't. Just go."

"Tell me."

"No."

"Tell me. You owe me that."

"All right. All right. You want to know. I wondered what it would be
like to fuck you, with you naked, up against the glass. In the fantasy
I hold you against it so you can't get away, and you have the shock of
the cold all the way up your back."

"You're having that right now?"

"It comes and goes. Little snippets of it. Parts of the scene." The
whole scene, in Technicolor. Lush, beautiful, sensual. Fucking my girl
against the window. Making her take it. Making her love it. I can feel
it.

"And you want it?"

"I already told you." If you leave, I may jack off to it. 

"You'd force me to do it? I don't believe you!"

"Don't be so sure. If the fantasy was good enough."

"You'd rape me?"

"I might."

"No you wouldn't!"

"You don't know that."

"You wouldn't! You're trying to scare me, to make me hate you!"

"I'm trying to warn you! God! Damn! It!"

"You're trying to scare me away!" Elizabeth came toward me.

"I'm warning you!"

She walked all the way up to me. She pushed herself against me. That
body. Take it away! Don't let me touch you. She was looking me right in
the eyes.

"Then do it! Rape me! Do me against the glass! I couldn't stop you!"

"Shut up!"

"Do it, if you're man enough!"

"Stop it."

"Do it!"

"No!"

"Do it!"

"God damn you!" I grabbed her arms and whipped her around so she banged
against the window. There was a cracking sound. I pushed her arms up
beside her head. Fuck it all. Teach her to play with me! Let's end it
all, get it over with. First her, then me.

I put my hands around her neck and squeezed. Her eyes flew wide. She
brought her hands up to mine, tried to pull them away, but she was
right. She couldn't stop me. Her mouth came open and the tip of her
tongue protruded. She made little rasping sounds. I squeezed harder, to
stop the sounds.

I leaned my face down to hers, and stared in her eyes while she
struggled to peel my hands away. It was useless. Finally I whispered,
"You don't know what you're asking!" I dropped my hands, and stepped
backwards, away from the window, and was on the couch, where I stared
at her shadow on the wall. My God. Yah, mine. Explain it you fucking
asshole of a God.

*****

If I blinked my eyes enough, or wiped them, I could see the shadow of
Elizabeth's arms sprawling back against the window and holding its
hands to its throat. The shadow of her head was half bent over. I saw
the shadow massaging its neck. I could even see fine lines where wisps
of her hair etched their own shadows on the wall. I wanted to cover my
eyes, but if I did I couldn't see even her shadow. That time would come
soon enough.

Elizabeth huffed a little while she rubbed her throat, but she didn't
cry. She cleared her throat several times. She rubbed for a while.
There were moments when I could make out the shadows of her hands, of
some fingers. She turned sideways and there was the outline of that
flawed nose on the wall. Her shadow began to dissolve. There were steps
that came right up to me.

Maybe she had found something heavy and hard to smash on my skull.
Nothing happened. Then there were her real, flesh-and-bone hands on my
shoulders.

"You're crying." She was hoarse.

"I'm sorry." I couldn't stop it.

"Shouldn't I be the one who's crying? I'm the one who was choked." She
cleared her throat again.

"I'm sorry."

"You really did scare me for a minute."

Go away Elizabeth. Get a life. Don't feed the monster. "I'm sorry."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"No."

One of her hands left my shoulder and played with my hair. She cleared
her throat again. She did it every few seconds.

"I'm glad. Are you going to try to scare me again?" 

"No."

I wiped my face again, shook my head, took a breath.

"Good."

Both her hands went to my head. I could feel her lean over the back of
the couch and place her lips to my hair. She stood like that a moment.
I could feel her breath. Finally she lifted off and walked around to
the front of the couch and sat down beside me. She took my hand and
leaned her head on my shoulder. Her other hand touched my arm, just
below my shoulder.

"I'm so tired, Edward."

"I'm sorry for everything, Elizabeth." I could control myself if I took
deep breaths. "So. So. So. So, you take the bed. I'll help you get home
in the morning."

"You love me."

For a minute I couldn't respond.

"It can't work."

"But you do. Your friend Anne told me, but I didn't believe her. I
didn't know what to believe."

"It doesn't matter. I don't think I can be good for you."

"But you'll try?"

"Aren't you even listening?"

"Will you?"

Don't ask this. "You don't know what it's like and I can't explain it."

"Just promise to try."

"God! Don't you ever give up?"

"No. Anything worth pursuing is worth pursuing."

She pushed her head into my arm. Your head is round and hard,
Elizabeth.

"I'm not worth it."

"That's my decision, not yours. Do you promise?"

"Oh Jesus!" I had to laugh. Right in the middle of everything. "Okay. I
promise. For you, you idiot. I'll try. I want to be good for you, and I
promise I'll try. But I really am afraid."

"Well, Mr. Ed, I'm a big girl, who finally knows what she's up against.
And I'll work on it too. For you. I promise. Maybe we should start with
sex."

"Maybe not tonight."

We sat quietly for a while. My head was resting on top of hers. I
couldn't keep my eyes open. She said something I didn't quite make out.

"What?"

She yawned. "Let's go to bed."

*****

I woke a few minutes ago. Elizabeth is still asleep. Her head is
pressed against my left arm and she's snoring a little. The snow has
stopped and reflected sunlight is washing the wall. It should wake her
soon, but I'll let her sleep as long as I can and try to ignore my
bladder. She seems so peaceful. My Elizabeth. Christ! My Elizabeth has
a bruise on her throat! What does it mean? That I have a second chance.
For what? To ruin her life. My Elizabeth. I don't know if I can do
this. I can't do it. I can't.

Well fuck you, Ed Hyde! You take this thing one day at a time, starting
now!

Okay. Deep breath. Time to wake you, my darling. I have to start trying
to be good.

End.


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