Page 19 of Dark Ink

I circled my thumb around her clit and the look dissolved into one of pure pleasure. I felt her tighten, heard her breath coming in short pants, felt the wildness to her bucking.

“Oh God oh God oh God,” she whispered.

She was so close. But she hung there, right on the edge of pleasure. She just had to let go. She just had to accept it.

“Oh God, no, no, God, no…” her cries of pleasure turned to panic, her eyes snapped open as if she’d just realised where she was. “Stop!”

She shoved at my hands. I was so shocked I stumbled back.

The door of the classroom swung open.

I turned, blocking Eithne from view as a student looked up in surprise from his cell phone.

“Get the fuck out!” I shouted, as I pressed Eithne back against the board, protecting her from sight.

The student was unable to move for a moment. His eyes focused on me. On the more than obvious erection in my pants. On my panting chest. He looked past me to the body half hidden behind me. A devastated sob broke from hidden lips.

I threw my arm out and shouted even louder, “I said, ‘Get the fuck out!’”

This broke the student free of his trance and he mumbled an apology before slamming the door shut. I heard the echo of running footsteps down the hall and then there was silence again. Silence and Eithne’s broken sobs.

“It’s fine,” I said, shifting around. “He didn’t see you.”

Eithne flinched away from me and wouldn’t make eye contact.

“Don’t touch me!” She ran for the door.

“Hey, just wait a second,” I tried calling after her.

“I can’t do this,” she said as she tugged open the door. “It’s wrong. It’s wrong. I’m wrong.”

The door slammed shut. I dragged my fingers through my hair.

That should have been the end of things. I should have moved on. It wasn’t meant to be.

If it had been anyone else, I probably would have. But my little Raglan Road girl had left me with a mystery. With a curiosity. With a piece of the puzzle missing. And I had to know more. She hadn’t said “this” was wrong, but that “she” was wrong.

I’d found a flower that hadn’t bloomed in the sun. One that’d been kept in the dark, out of the sun. I was determined to be her moon. I’d rise above her. Peel her back, velvety petal by velvety petal. Smell her scent. Own her body. Steal her soul.

And have her secrets. All of them.

Eithne

The mug shattered above my head.

All the glasses I owned were already shattered, in a half-swept pile on the dirty tiles of the small kitchenette.

I should have been thinking how to get out of this violent situation. I should have been thinking about where my phone was in case I needed to contact the police. I should have been knocking on the neighbour’s door for help (before they came knocking on mine).

Instead I was thinking: what is Stewart going to drink water out of now? Where could I find a place to buy cups that was open this late at night? How am I going to leave him alone? How can I possibly leave him alone? How can I possibly ever leave him?

Stewart was rocking back and forth on the couch, fingers gripping the hair that wasn’t already plastered to his pale forehead. The old cushions had plenty of stains already. It had been given to me by the previous tenant and I think the only reason they didn’t ask for money was because I’d saved them the effort of dragging it out to the dumpster. But still, his sweat stains were obvious amongst the rest. A crumpled pillow half fallen off the headrest was practically soaked through. The living room was a mess of half-drunk Gatorade bottles, trash bags that needed taking out after Stewart threw up in them, and pamphlets I’d picked up from a local clinic on ways to seek help; these were all either balled up, torn up, or thrown up upon.

My place needed cleaning. Desperately. But there were more pressing matters. Like Stewart standing shakily from the couch. Sobbing. Stumbling unsteadily toward me.

“Eithne,” he sniffled, eyes struggling to keep ahold of mine. “Eithne, Eithne.”

He backed me up till my shoe heel crunched on a piece of the broken mug. Till my shoulder blades collided with the cracked drywall. Till his weight was pressed up against me, his arms encompassing my head, his fingers stroking my hair as I clenched my eyes shut.

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