TABOO TALES(erotica)

And so we settled into a routine, back at home, back at work. It was difficult with Mum and Dad around, as they worked flexible hours and most of the time one or other of them was at home. Chelsea was desperately worried about them finding out.

“It’s not just the risk if we have sex,” she said to me one morning, in the few minutes we had alone before we headed off to work. “It’s the whole body language thing, Ben. I’m sure Mum knows something is happening between us.”

“In what way?”

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. You know what she’s like – really slow to pick up on some things and razor sharp on others. I guess its intuition. She asked me the other day how come I was getting on so well with you after years of squabbling.”

“What did you say?”

“That we’d realised during the holiday that we had more in common than not, and enjoyed each other’s company.” She smiled. “I didn’t tell her how much we enjoy each other.”

“And what did she say?”

“It was really odd. She said ‘Ben’s a nice boy but don’t spend too much time with him… find a man to settle down with’… something like that, anyway. Perhaps she’s figured out you’re a pervert rather than a real man.”

I laughed. “She’s more concerned about you being flighty. During the holiday she said pretty much the same thing to me… that you needed to settle down with a nice young man. I stirred her up a little by telling her I’d heard you throwing up every morning and you were probably pregnant to that Greek guy.”

“You didn’t!!”

“I did – it really had her going for a while but I couldn’t keep a straight face and she twigged. She told me off, and then said that I should keep an eye on you so that you didn’t get preggers.”

Chelsea shook her head. “Poor Mum! I guess she didn’t know that I’m far more likely to get knocked up by you than by anyone else.”

I gave her a hard look. “Anyone else? Are you -”

She cut me off. “Don’t start that, Ben – jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Her voice softened. “You’re pretty safe…. for some reason I really like you…. hey, come on.” She squeezed my arm. “I’m not seeing anyone else Ben.”

“OK.”

She continued to look at me, her grey eyes steady. “Alright. How did we get onto that subject anyway? Look, I just wanted to say that we have to be really careful, Ben. Even a meaningful look between us can give away much more than we can afford.”

“Alright.”

“I mean it. No mooning around me, no loving glances, no footsies under the dining room table.”

“What can we do?”

“Act like a brother and sister.” She saw the expression on my face and sighed. “Ben, there will be a few opportunities, I’m sure. Just don’t spoil everything in being too hasty.” She glanced at her watch. “Anyway, I’ve gotta go. See you tonight.” She leaned forward and kissed me, her lips soft and lingering. “Be good.”

I watched as she picked up her car keys and walked out, so trim and smart in her business suit. I knew she was right, but it didn’t stop the longing.

*****

She played the game so much better than I, setting a rigid set of rules that had me wondering if she really had gone off me. Whenever there were others around she would treat me as she had for most of our lives – with the disdainful tolerance of a sibling. I tried a few times to touch her surreptitiously under the table, or perhaps brush up against her when she was in the kitchen, but she just moved away.

Even if no one else was in the house she was circumspect. I might win a few kisses but as soon as I tried anything more she would stop me, and she would explain again as if to a small child. “Ben, we can’t do this – they might come home at any moment.”

“They might not, though.”

“Better to be safe than sorry.”

“How about we go upstairs, then? We could hear them… it would give us time to -”

“No! Once we start they could arrive with a Brass Band and we wouldn’t notice.”

“But I want you.”

She reached up and touched my face. “I want you too, Ben. Just be patient. There will be times -.”

“But when -”

“When I say. Now go and have a cold shower,” and she would turn away, and I’d be left angry and frustrated.

Three weeks after the holidays I’d just about given up – or at least I would have done if I hadn’t loved her so much. Even our brief time together was spent arguing about why she was so careful, and why she wouldn’t relax a little. It came to a head one Friday.

It had been a difficult day at work and I was tired, and I came home to find Chelsea in the kitchen alone.

“Hey!” I went to give her a kiss but she twisted her head so that my lips pressed on her cheek and then she turned to walk away. I grasped her arm. “Wow… that sent a message. Do you want to try that again?”

“Not now, Ben.”

“Well, now seems like a good time, Chelsea. We are on our own, and I’m not trying to drag you off to bed here. How about a decent kiss?” I pulled her towards me.

“I said no!” She snatched her arm away and glared at me, her little face set and angry.

I could feel my temper rising. “Why not?! Why aren’t you interested any more?”

“Because I don’t feel like it! Because I’m sick of you trying to get me to do things I don’t want!”

My anger spilled out, white hot, driven by the weeks of frustration. “It’s always what you want, Chelsea – what about what I want!? What is it with you? Why won’t you -”

She laughed, a bitter sound without humour. “It doesn’t matter what I want. It’s all about you! You only think of one thing, and you can’t seem to get it in your head that we can’t do it here!”

“You weren’t so particular on holiday!”

“That was on holiday, and it wasn’t an invitation to try it on all the time!” She leaned in towards me, her eyes like steel chips. “I told you it would be different at home… which bit of that didn’t you understand?”

“The bit where you turned into a cock teaser!”

She stepped back, pale with anger. “You bastard!”

“Well, you are. It’s been three weeks, Chelsea, and now you can’t even bring yourself to kiss me. What the fuck’s going on!?”

“Nothing!! Can’t you understand that either?! There’s nothing going on and nothing willgo on at home. Why does it have to be a dick thing?”

“It’s not! It’s about showing each other that we still care! You’ve built a fucking brick wall between us -”

Her voice dropped. “I’m not doing this, Ben. Not now – not ever!” She turned and stomped away, her little figure stiff with anger, stopping at the door for a final shot. “Get this in your brain – you don’t own me!” She slammed the door behind her and I heard her footsteps running upstairs.

I’m not a heavy drinker but I went out that night, meeting up with a couple of friends from work to sink some beers at the local pub. I wasn’t good company though, and they moved on to leave me to drink alone. I sat at the bar, nursing a Scotch, remembering what it had been like when we were together, me inside her, her body painted by the rain-swept luminescence from the little window above our bed and her eyes soft with love. I remembered her words on the last morning, when she had said that she would always want me, and I tried to reconcile them with the anger in her face tonight. Like a forlorn lover I played the scene over and over in my mind, trying to figure where things had gone wrong and what I could have done to prevent it. The anger had long since gone and I was racked with self-pity and a sense of injustice.

In the early hours of the morning I gave up and walked through the empty streets. It was raining – a light drizzle falling silently, painting the road silver in the circle of light from every street lamp, and I was soaking wet and stone-cold sober by the time I reached home. The house was quiet and I crept into my room to slip off my clothes and dry off before climbing into bed. I knew that sleep would be difficult.

There was a little tap on the door, so quiet that I thought I had imagined it, and then I heard the creak of the door and her soft voice, whispering. “Ben.”

I sat up. “Here.”

She moved silently across the room, a fleeting shadow, and I felt her bump against the bed as she reached me. “Where are you? I can’t see.”

“Wait, I’ll put on the light -”

“No! No, don’t.” She felt along the bed and found me, and raised the bedclothes to slip in. “Christ, you’re freezing.”

“I’ve only just got in.”

“I know. I’ve been waiting.” She wrapped her arms around me, her face close to mine so that I could hear her voice, a low whisper. “I can’t stay long but I couldn’t sleep. I had to speak to you again. Are you OK?”

“I guess.”

“I mean, are you drunk?”

I laughed softly. “No, I’m not. I wanted to be, but even that didn’t work. A shitty day all round.”

“Ben – I came to say I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I said.”

“So why did -”

She put her fingers on my lips. “Wait. Let me finish. I had a bad day and I was tired, Ben. – we shouldn’t argue on days like that.”

“We shouldn’t argue at all.”

“Right…. Ben, I didn’t mean what I said about never doing this.”

“So what did you mean? I’m pretty confused, Chelsea.”Belongs to © n0velDrama.Org.

She pressed her lips against my neck. “Me too. I… want you so much, Ben, but I’m frightened of what will happen. I shouldn’t be here now – I’m terrified about them finding out about us. I can’t do… anything in that environment, and you kept pushing -”

“I love you. I need you, like before -”

Her whisper was urgent. “I do too! Just like before – but not here. This isn’t like that.”

“I can’t wait for ever, Chelsea. I need you.”

She was quiet. I could feel her warmth through her nightdress, pressed up alongside of me and I could smell the fragrance of her hair close to my face.

“Chelsea?”

“Yep. I hear you.” She was quiet for a while, then she spoke, so softly I could hardly hear her. “Suppose we go away for a weekend? Just you and me. We could go to a place where no one would find us.”