THE JAILBIRD ®18 SNVL (Episode 46) ©Aaron A.A
EFFE’S RESIDENCE – NIGHT
Chris supervises Junior to take a bath.
He picks him up and carries him to the bedroom where he selects a soft pyjama and puts it on the boy.
Junior is so tired that he is almost asleep on his feet.
Chris carries him to the bed, puts him down, and pulls the sheet over him.
He sets the air-condition to room temperature.
Chris kisses him on the cheek.
He turns to leave, and Junior grabs his middle finger tightly.
I’m here, Champ.
Please stay… until I sleep.
Sure, Champ. I’ll be right here. Hey, today was a bomb, Champ. And I’m happy. I’m very happy. Thanks for this, Champ.
(giving a gigantic yawn)
I don’t want… if you fight I have bad dream… I see you hurt. Don’t …fight. Just… just. Cook…
No fights, Champ. I’ll cook. Sleep. I love you very much.
His hand slowly relaxes on Chris’ middle finger, and he starts to breathe easily.
He is asleep.
Chris gets up and switches off the light, turning on the night one.
He sits on the edge of the bed, just looking at his wonderful son, feeling so much love for him that it brings tears to his eyes.
This little boy had barely known him before he went to prison.
But he had remembered. His love is pure, and nothing can sway him from loving a father the whole world has rejected, even his own mother.
Chris knows that his strength out of prison had been made whole by this boy. Without Junior, he probably would have been a total mess by now.
The door opens behind him, but he does not hear.
Effe stands in the doorway, and then she enters and shuts it softly.
She is wearing a silky yellow and black negligée that stops just short of her panties, leaving her creamy thighs bare.
She has an incredible figure, a beauty pure and breath-taking.
Still Chris does not know she is behind him.
He stands up and turns, and that is when he sees her.
She notices the silvery sheen on his cheeks in the glow of the night lamp, and she knows he is crying.
This huge man, this reckless violent man the world has learnt to hate.
In his private moments, he is just a little boy, with fears and pains and a heart that hurts.
In the dim glow he does not look like a man, but like the school boy who had come into her life and made her heart do flips.
He quickly wipes the tears from his face with the palm of his right hand.
She sees his handsome face, and even the little dimples in his cheeks.
She remembers his mutilated back, and recalls the horrors he might have gone through in prison.
Her heart is suddenly overflown with the love she feels for him, a love that she had tried to kill, and which refuses to die.
He is looking at her, and she sees the hunger in his eyes, the love that is in his heart, now full-blown on his face.
He takes a single step, and she takes two, and then they are reaching for each other, desperately, violently, hungrily.
She exhales deeply as she searches for his lips, feverishly, and her tongue darts against his nose in her haste, and a second later his lips find hers.
His right hand holds the side of her face, and his left hand slips against her buttocks, moulding into the curve, grabbing her hard.
Her arms go around him in total abandon as she kisses him back in a frenzy.
Her legs wobble, and she feels him shivering with desire.
Effe’s hands pull at his shirt, tearing off some buttons, and then she desperately pushes her hand against his chest, down his taut belly, across the front of his jeans, feeling his hard length.
His lips sear a trail down her throat as his right hand comes down, climbs up her belly and fasten on her rounded left breast, his thumb singing on her taut nipple.
She has never known such want, such thirst, such pleasure.
His left hand curves around her smooth, beautiful right leg. She raises her leg, and pushes hungrily into him.
My Princess, my Breath, oh Effe, my Angel!
Just like her wedding night!
The love. The passion. The crave. The need. The want. The life.
She is living. This is the fire that has been missing in her life, in her heart, in her breath!
Their tears combine, and they taste that saltiness on their lips.
Ewwwwwww! Would you two go and do that licky-face thing in your room?
His voice startles them, and they break apart, and Effe desperately pulls her negligée down, using Chris’ huge figure as shield.
He is panting hard, and she looks at him, and smiles, and he smiles back.
Good night, Champ.
Night, Daddy… Mommy.
Good night, my sweet prince!
Now get out, please.
They rush out, and once they are out on the landing, and the door is shut, they laugh softly into each other’s eyes.
She looks down, and see his furious desire outlined plainly in the distended front of his jeans trousers.
Effe knows her loins are also equally furious, waiting for him, ready for him… only him.
She takes a step towards him.
He shakes his head sadly.
We’re divorced, my love. You have an understanding with Steve. You still believe I raped your friend. These are walls that need to be broken down between us, Ef, my Precious. If I’m going to be with you, everything should be perfect. Good night, Princess.
He turns abruptly and begins to descend the stairs.
Tears come into her eyes, but she knows he is right. They have suffered, both of them, and they are still suffering.
Until they find that perfect harmony where there will be no bitter thorns to hurt their love, making love and falling back in love will be fruitless, because the thorns will always rise up and choke that love.
He stops and turns.
Suddenly he climbs the stairs again, and takes her face in both hands.
His lips finds her trembling, soft ones, and he kisses her like a dying man in the desert will devour a bottle of water.
When he steps back she almost falls, and has to hold unto the banister to steady herself.
I loved you then, Effe. I love you now, and I’ll always love you. Till death. Sleep well.
He turns, and takes the steps down two at a time.
She watches him go, and her heart hurts, and tears blind her.
To be continued…
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