Life Lesson

I yawned gracelessly as I glanced at the dashboard clock, tiredly realizing the time. It was almost midnight. Not too late by the standards of a night owl like myself, but the photoshoot I was driving home from had been tiring, and draining. It was all I could do to stay awake, but I had already been driving for an hour, and another thirty minutes wouldn't kill me. Didn't have much option but to stay awake anyway.

I lit a cigarette to rouse my senses, jamming my finger against the on button on the stereo, filling my car with the wracking sound of heavy metal. Nothing keeps me awake like something with pounding drums and shrieking guitars. Probably because poundings, and shrieking were two things I did best. In any case, it kept the street lights from blurring together with sleep, even if it did wake up the people on the other side of town.

My weary body rejoiced as I pulled in on to main street, just afew blocks from my place, turning down the stereo in preparation to enter the complex. As i lowered the volume, almost as though on cue, my cell phone, sitting on the console between myself and passenger seat, started ringing. I stopped the car infront of the apartment gate, pressing the button on my remote to open it, and glanced at the screen, noting "Unknown" reading across the caller ID. As the gate slowly creaked open, I picked it up, murmering a hello, my voice a bit more tired sounding than I expected it to be.

There was no response. I repeated my greeting again, met by the same silence before the phone was disconnected.

With a shrug, I shoved the phone irritatedly into my baggy jeans pocket, steering the car into my covered parking space. Shutting off the radio, I let out another dreary yawn and shut off the car, stomping my cigarette out on the ground as I sluggishly raised myself from the vehicle, locking it and slamming the door. A back glance through the window reminded me that my huge sports bag of clothes and accessories, along with my purse were still in the locked car.

I shrugged again and walked off. Those things could wait until after I got some sleep.

Plodding up the stairs, cursing myself for renting a second floor apartment with each step, I finally managed to the door and fumbled the key into the lock, grateful beyond words to be home. I didn't really mind the second floor. Everyone told me the second story was safer.

I entered, quickly closing the door behind me, sure my cat would be there waiting, like he always was, for his one opportunity a day to make his daring escape. I bolted the lock and looked around my darkened apartment, the only light in the place emanating from the screen of my computer, filtering through the door to my office. The cat wasn't there.

Turning on the lamp in the living room, I plopped unceremoniously down on the couch and sighed long and deep, closing my eyes for a moment, trying not to fall to sleep. Opening them, I surveyed the room, looking for my old buddy.

"Booger? Boooger bear? Where you at, cat?" I called. I waited a moment, but he didn't come. With growing concern, I got up, looking around, calling him. I heard a muffled meow coming from somewhere in the house, and I was relieved to know he was there. Stifiling a yawn, my uneasiness settled once again to my normal fatigue, and I lazily sauntered to the kitchen for a bite to eat.

As I opened the door to the pantry, my heart nearly stopped in my chest, and I'm not sure how loud I screamed as my beautiful, blonde persian cat leapt out and plastered himself on my chest, clawing up around my shoulders, meowing piteously and proceding to bathe my hair. Dropping to my knees, I muttered silent curses at the cat, trying to revive my pulse. Reaching up, I stroked his fur, holding him tightly and just laughing off my rediculous fear. What a day.

I didn't know why I was so jumpy.

The cat, satisfied at having scared the life out of me, and having escaped the confines of the pantry, gave me a loving bite on the ankle and went off on his own, and I grabbed a drink from the refrigerator, lit another smoke, and went and took a seat at my desk, continuing about my usual nightly routine.

It was then that the phone rang again, my full volume, obnoxious ring tone peircing once again through the still silence, jump starting my heart as I nearly flew from my chair. The number, again, was unknown. This time, I ripped open the phone and pressed it to my ear, angrily answering it.

"Who the fuck is this?!" I almost hissed, somewhat shocked at the caustic tone in my voice. Again, there was nothing but silence. I waited a moment, for some response. I could hear dead air on the other end, and very subtle breathing. Very very little back ground noise.

Furious, I repeated my call. "I said who the FUCK is this??" I waited another few moments, then to my horror, I heard a very faint, muffled sound emanate through my reciever, my own voice, and my own words. It was so faint I could hardly hear it. My voice had been picked up by the callers phone. The call was coming from inside my apartment.

My hand shook violently, my face blanching white as a sheet as I dropped the phone with a clatter, my whole body gripped by a sense of paralyzing terror. I leapt to my feet, the chair toppling over behind me, and ran, stumbling, for the door, tripping with every step, my own fear crippling my flight.

I tore open the doors to my office leading in to the living room, and as I emerged, there stood one of the most formidable men I knew, boldly blocking the path between me and the front door. There stood Evan, my sickening ex husband, cell phone in his hand, a shrewd smirk playing across his face as he looked me over, standing a handful of feet from me. He closed his cell phone and replaced it in his pocket.

"Hello, Meredith." He said, smiling. I trembled and took a faltering set of steps back from him, trying valiantly to regain my composure. I had no desire for him to see me unsat.

"What... the hell... are you doing here?" I said acridly, the vehement anger starting to remanifest in my tone. "And how the fuck did you get in?"

"My, my, aren't we the potty mouth this evening. Well, you always have been. You really shouldn't talk like that, it isn't very becoming of you. Isn't that what your grandma always says?" he said, dangling a key in his hand. I was choking on indignance and fury. Not only did he know I hated to be corrected, but his calm demeanor in the face of my anger mocked me. I liked being mocked even less.

"And where the hell did you get that??" I said accusingly, my voice escalating a bit.

"It's of no consequence. And quiet down. You don't want to wake up the whole complex, do you?"

"The FUCK it isn't!!!" I almost screamed.

I could have killed him. I couldn't even speak, I was so infuriated. Finally, after stammering for several moments, trying to ignore his mirth at my condition, I moved back against the wall and lit another cigarette to calm myself. After a long drag, giving the smoke time to do its job, I looked back at him, raising an eyebrow, and continued our dialogue.

"Well, have a seat. By the way, what are you doing here, shit face?" I said calmly. He laughed, but made no motion to sit down.

"I am not here to sit, kiddo. You have something here that I believe belongs to me."

"Like hell I do, bastard. And if I did, why didn't you take it and leave?" I said, my irritation blinding me from the subtle shift of tone in his voice.

"Because I need you here to take it, stupid. I believe you have it on you." he said, taking a single step toward me. I shifted a bit against the wall, but didn't move away. I would not let him think he was intimidating me.

I raised an eyebrow and looked away from him. "I ain't got anything of yours on me, sugar lips. Take a hike."

I saw a his eye twitch, happy with myself. He wasn't so cool after all.

"You never returned my ring, bitch." he said, his voice laced with irritation. I smirked myself and blew a cloud of smoke at him.

"And you ain't gonna get it back, jerk. You didn't ever return what belonged to me either. And don't talk like that. It ain't 'becoming'," I said mockingly.

I really have to get over this min-pin complex of mine. I have this tendancy of talking way bigger than I actually am. I swear to you, one of these days, it's going to get me killed. As he rushed at me, closing the gap between us, grabbing me hard by the throat and forcing me up against the wall, suddenly I became vaguely worried that this might be that time. My cigarette dropped to the floor, and I looked down, stepping it out with the toe of my boot.

You'd think I would have been more afraid. After all, he was pinning me to the wall by the throat. I suppose when you are dealing with someone you know, and you're a big-talking smart ass like myself, it's not so easily accomplished an emotion. And he wasn't gripping my throat hard enough to make me scared.

A bit uncomfortable though, I looked back up at him, staring into those deep brown eyes of his, seeing the rage, the insecurity, the pain, and everything I knew him for. As much as he was hurting my throat, he hurt my heart more. He never would let me help him.

"Sweet heart," I said calmly, my voice a tad bit pinched from his grasp on my wind pipe, "C'mon now. We don't have to fight."

He just stared at me, bearing in to me with his eyes. I stared back at him, softening my expression. He had become physical with me only once before, and it had ended with me in terrible pain, on the ground. But I was confident that this time, it wouldn't come to that.

Rose colored glasses on a woman that can't help but see the good in even the most horrible, unstable of people.

He sneered at me. "Then watch your mouth" he said with a grunt, violently hurling me to the ground, landing me across the room.

"Ow.." I murmered blandly, staggering to my feet unphased, gingerly rubbing the spot where my head had hit the wall. I squinted at him, trying to adjust my vision, holding the arm of the couch for support. I noticed his demeanor change to one of mischief.

Aw crap..., I thought, knowing him well enough to understand where his thoughts were going.

"And just where did you put it?" He said tentatively, treating each word with feined niceness and sincerity. I felt the anger growing in me again.

"The same place you put my stuff, you dick" I said softly, but violently. He only shook his head and began walking toward me. I inched for the door, but he inched faster, grabbing me, fixing his hand in the back of my hair and wrenching my head back, pulling hard.

"Then it looks like I'll just have to take something else. I'm not leaving here empty handed. You know how far I came for this?"

I closed my eyes, the corner of my lip twitching in its involuntary way, that way it does when I get really mad. I reached back and grabbed the wrist of the hand that held my hair.

"That's all the coming you're going to be doing here." I said flatly.

This time, I didn't wait to react. I knew his intentions, and I was not about to allow it to happen. He had bested me the first time we'd fought, only bacause I hadn't been able to control myself. This time, I was collected.

In a fluid motion, I swept up my right leg, landing my knee squarely in his groin, bringing my left arm up around under the arm of his wrist that I held and spun him around in his agony, pinning it behind his back, shoving him with all my might across the room.

As he landed with a thud, writhing in pain (I'd almost broke his arm), I grinned a little bit, quite happy with my accomplishment. Wiping the sweat from my brow, I walked slowly over to him, looking at him for a minute before going and sitting down on the ottoman against the far wall of the living room, lighting another cigarette. He moaned.

"You thinkin' about leavin' yet?"

"Bitch.." He said, getting to his feet, much more stable, and much, much angrier than I had anticipated him being. He started walking toward me, and I frantically got to my feet to assume a defensive position, my poise thrown off by the surprise of his speedy recovery.

"You really think you're so hot?!" He yelled, hauling back for a punch. Yeah, he was going to punch me. He never had considered me a lady.

So he threw and I blocked, but as I finished my move, he receded rather than advance, so my sweeping fan kick caught nothing but thin air, leaving me completely unbalanced. As I tried to recover, the brute came in on me again, this time grabbing me by the throat and forcing me to my knees. His grip was crushing, and I struggled for air, looking up at his the berserk expression on his face.

I felt sick. I realized now exactly what I was dealing with, how deep I had gotten myself. He'd threatened to kill me before, but I never thought he meant it. After all, I was still living. This time, though, looking up at his eyes and seeing nothing but hate and anger, an unnaturally evil, possessed look, I started praying. And crying. He really looked like he could kill me.

"P..Please Evan..." I squeaked, his face blurring through my tears. Looking at him then, I felt dead inside. We had divorced a long time before, and it killed me then. I remembered how happy we'd been, but I didn't see a single trace of the love we'd once shared in his eyes now. All I saw was hate, and vengence.

He squeezed my neck harder. The whites of my eyes went red.

I didn't realize that as he was holding my neck, he was unzipping his pants. He wasn't going to kill me. He was just weakening me.

Suddenly, he released me, and dragged me down on to my back, the rush of air that I desperately pulled in to my chest burning my lungs. He pinned my arms to the ground. I didn't struggle. I just cried.

After several long moments of crying, I realized that he wasn't doing anything to me. He wasn't undressing me.. He wasn't readying himself to fuck me. He wasn't doing anything. He was just straddling my waist, looking down at me, the grip he held on my arms loosening little by little. I looked at him. His expression was blank and distant, his lip was quivering.

I thought of trying to escape, but when I started to move, his hands fixed again like iron, but his expression didn't change. He stared at me. It was unsettling.

My heart broke. I loved him. He was suffering. I forgot in a moment that he had just gotten done brutalizing me. All I felt was that need to heal him, to comfort him. He was hurting and conflicted. I sobbed.

"Evan... Let me go..."

He released my arms. Instead of pushing him away, I reached up, holding his face gently in my delicate hands, feeling him tremble. He was looking at me, but he wasn't. His mind was churning, and tears were welling up in his eyes. I knew what he was thinking about. I knew what was hurting him.

He had never liked hurting me.

Gently, I lowered his face closer to mine and he followed, the tears streaming down his cheeks into my fingers. I wanted to heal him.

"Evan please... come back... look at me," I said through my own sobbing. He looked at me, his eyes deep and passionate, and I looked right back at him. It may have only been a matter of seconds, but I felt eternity pass in that moment. Next I knew, he broke, collapsing on top of me, gathering me in his arms, both of us crying uncontrollably, like children.

He turned my face to him, and I didn't resist. My lips found his, and I felt myself ensconced in the most passionate kiss I've ever known, my body pressed tight against his, airy with the feeling of our love reignited. I wanted to make love to him, more than anything, more than I wanted oxygen to breathe. Tumbling, falling together, he rolled me over on top of him.

My fingers traveled down his chest as we kissed, deftly opening each button while he less tactfully ripped th T shirt from my body, pulling our bare flesh together, our bodies over run with joy, relief, lust, and passion. I ran my hands over his strong, muscled shoulders, breaking our kiss and looking into his eyes.

"I love you so much..." I whispered.

"I love you too..." he replied.

My heart had ached so long to hear those words again, and a tear fell from my cheek onto his. He smiled at me, that loving, genuine smile, gently brushing my soft hair back behind my ear. It was too wonderful to be real. He was back.

I resumed my caresses, kissing down his neck, nibbling his ear, stroking his skin with my nails, all the things I knew he loved. I ground my hips against him, feeling his massive shaft swelling against me as I continued working down his body.

He moaned softly in his delicate way, shifting his hips as I undid his belt and lowered his pants, dragging his boxers down and past his ankles, tossing them across the room. Taking his thick, hard shaft in my hands, I could have cried from happiness.

Hello again... I thought as I slowly began licking the moistness from the head of his engorged member. At one time I had been disgusted by male bodily fluids. Now, I was grateful to taste it again, and hungered for it. With that hunger in mind, I bore down on him, pleasuring him with my mouth and my tongue, my touch on his sack. His hands raked through my hair as his hips involuntarily thrust his sex deeper into my mouth. I closed my eyes, moaning with my own pleasure, the unique pleasure a submissive takes from giving. Eagerly, I waited for him.

He groaned furiously, pulling his cock from my mouth and toppling me over, removing my pants and spreading my legs wide, burying his face between them. I didn't hold back the scream of pleasure that came to my throat as I felt his expert tongue delving between the delicate folds of my womanhood again. He was the only one I'd ever known who had done me right.

I was in heaven. I would try to describe the intensity of what I felt as he devoured me, how he hit every one of my most sensitive spots, how he made me moan and quiver with ecstacy, but I could never find words to do justice to the art he performed. I gently stroked his hair, caressing his ears as he pleasured me, tears as well as other fluids freely flowing. I couldn't hold it any longer, and he knew it.

He stopped and sat up, his powerful arms hauling me up on top of him with incredibly gentle strength, positioning me on his lap, facing him, his shaft ready at the entrance to my hot, moistened heat. Again, our eyes met, both filled with over powering emotion. I yearned to feel him inside me again. He longed for the same thing. It was all communicated, everything, all of it, without a single word, passing between us through our eyes.

And we embraced, our arms tangling about each other, kissing as if for our lives, bodies locked together as finally we became one again, his throbbing sex driving into me, my body flush against his.

I felt as if I was soaring, flying, falling, collapsing, living, dying all at once. The energy we felt, the passion, could probably have powered a small town for at least a week.

He broke our kiss and gazed at me, and I saw everything I felt reflected in his beautiful eyes as he pounded into me, holding me. I wanted it to last forever. I didn't care about the past, tomorrow, anyone, or anything. All I knew was he was there with me. We were living. We were loving. We were together.

I felt the tension building inside me. It wouldn't be long now, I knew. I tightened my passage about his shaft, pulling him deeper, harder into me, urging him. I was holding back. for him.

It felt like hours. Was it? Or was it only minutes before he spent himself, his arms crushing my body against him, my own embracing him tight as a could, our bodies rocked together by the power of our mutual climaxes? All I know is it was. And we did.

And there we lay, tired, but happy, naked and entangled in the middle of my living room floor, our bodies caressed by the soft carpet. My eyes wandered to his. Quietly, I spoke.

"Evan... don't you want to be like this forever..?" I said.

"It would be nice..."

"I love you so much, dearest..."

Meow...

The sound had come from his mouth. I looked at him, completely perplexed.

"wha...?"

Mrrrooowww...

I opened my eyes, blinking away the harsh light from the halogen lamp in my living room. I felt a softness rubbing against my leg. Looking around, I felt strange and befuddled, out of place.

Where was Evan..?

I looked down. The cat was rubbing his head impatiently against my leg, demanding for me to wake up and give him his due attention. I looked around, realizing that I had fallen asleep on my couch right after I had plopped down on it after walking in the door. Tears stung my eyes.

My phone was beside me. It rang. Unknown. I answered it, speaking tentatively. A voice came through, sounding soft and far off.

"Hello, this is a courtesy call for..."

I hung up the phone. I wept.

A lesson in life. If something is too good to be true... it isn't.