1 comments/ 34300 views/ 3 favorites The Things We Leave Behind By: kylewhitney I would like to thank volunteer editor Tyressia for her time and assistance with this story. Detective Michelle Dairhart watched them pull the prostitute’s dead body from behind the dumpster. Even in the bad light, the dark bruises on the corpse’s thighs were sickeningly obvious. Silent echoes of her violent final moments. They laid her body in the long, black bag. No one bothered to pull the glittery pink mini-skirt down from around her belly to cover her nakedness. No dignity in life, why should we expect any in death? She had seen more death in these first three weeks as a detective than her entire five years as a patrol officer. They told her it would get easier, and that scared her. Easier meant she would have to stop caring. No longer feeling the emptiness that comes with knowing that a human being woke up that morning not knowing that this was the last day of their life. Smeared red lipstick and a pair of stunning eyes staring vacantly into nothingness were her last impressions before the zipper slid up the length of the bag. “Hey Shelly,” Officer DeRizzo’s voice drew her attention away from the body bag. “We got no witnesses, no I.D., no more customers tonight.” He was smiling at his attempted joke. She never found the jokes funny, but she returned his smile just the same. She knew DeRizzo was only trying to push it aside, like so many of the others she worked with. He didn’t want to take this home with him to his wife and daughter. “Thanks Tony,” Shelly tucked her notepad away. “Let me know if you run across anyone who can give us a name.” She made her way past the black van and out of the alley. The strobes atop the squad cars pulsed their blue light across the faces of the small crowd that had gathered. There was always a crowd. She had come to see the crowd as a single voyeuristic organism birthed by the thrill of tragedy. It lives a brief existence of nervous fascination, then dwindles and dies of lingering disinterest. Shelley reached her car and climbed into its welcomed sanctuary. She closed her eyes and tried to refocus. Her mind slipped easily to thoughts of a hot bath and the weightless feeling of the warm water embracing her naked body. The sharp artificial ring of her phone jolted her back. She checked the glowing display screen. It was Turner, her boss. “Detective Dairhart here,” she said into the phone, her voice steady and professional. “You need to get married, Miss Dairhart, and get rid of that last name,” Turner bawled at the other end of the connection. “It sounds like a god damned comic book character.” If you don’t have anything intelligent to say then say it loudly seemed to be his philosophy. “It’s just too bad you’re already taken, Sir.” She silently chastised herself for resorting so easily to that flirty act he gets such a kick out of. At least it kept her on his good side. “Don’t tempt me young lady,” he chuckled. “Listen, we’ve got a suicide over at The Shoremont Towers.” “The ritzy new condos down by the waterfront?” “Seems some rich yuppie-type had it so good he couldn’t take it anymore.” Turner’s sarcasm left little question about his sympathy for the deceased. “Not much to this one, I just need you to get over there and make sure everything is handled discretely.” “I understand,” Shelly responded. “Should I check in when I get there?” “Nah, don’t bother. I’m knocking off early and heading to McNeely’s to catch the game. You should stop by for a beer when you’re done, get to know the guys better.” “Sure, I’ll try to get over there when I’m done,” Shelly lied. She thumbed the disconnect button on her cell and checked the street map to make sure she knew where she was going before starting the car and heading for the waterfront. Hopefully this would be a clean one. No guns or razors. Even pills can get messy sometimes. Just get this one buttoned up quickly and quietly and then home to the tub. The lobby of the west tower was a precisely choreographed display of marble, manicured plantings, subdued light, and money. Lots of money. An architect’s orgasm in glass and stone. The echoes of Detective Dairhart’s low heels alerted the security guard at the reception desk of her arrival. “I’m here about…” “Mr. Daniels,” the guard nodded toward a log book at the end of the desk. “Just sign in and you can go on up. Apartment seven-fourteen. An officer is already up there.” As Shelly entered her name and the time into the book, she noticed the guard looking at her chest. A plain bra, camisole, blouse, and blazer were layered over her breasts, and still they looked. She wasn’t surprised, even when she was in situations that called for a Kevlar vest she would sometimes catch the guys looking. Some women say this kind of attention is flattering. Shelly just tried to ignore it. After all, she was guilty of checking out the occasional crotch herself. For years she denied the quick thrill she often felt upon catching a glimpse of a suggestive curve or bulge down there, but finally she accepted it and allowed herself to indulge without being ashamed. “All set,” Shelly announced a bit too loudly. His eyes flicked from her chest to her face. “Either of the elevators on the left.” She wondered if he was even aware he was doing it. The elevator glided smoothly and quietly to the seventh floor. The fresh floral scent and polished surfaces within the elevator gave the impression that it was painstakingly cleaned after every use. The doors opened almost silently leading Shelly into a dimly lit hallway. Seven fourteen was at the end to the left. The door was slightly ajar, she could hear the faint sound from a television inside. She tapped on the door and went in. “Hello?” Shelly called. The television snapped off and an officer came into the foyer from a room down a hall. She recognized him but didn’t know his name. “Can I help you?” He asked. “Oh sorry, aren’t you the new detective? I’ve seen you around the station, right?” “Detective Dairhart,” Shelly offered her hand. “Richard, everyone calls me Ricky though,” he shook her hand in that soft way men do with women. “Did you find a note?” she asked as she walked down the hall to the sparse living room. “No note. This wasn’t a suicide.” A slight tone of embarrassment crept into his voice. One wall of the living room was dominated by a wide-screen, flat panel monitor. The few pieces of furniture looked like they were selected more for appearance than comfort. Shelly tallied up how many months rent she could pay with the money that was spent to decorate this room. Fifteen, at least. “The call said he hanged himself.” “Well, yeah, but it was one of those sex things, you know?” “A sex thing? Do we know who was with him?” Shelly did her best to conceal her eagerness. This might turn out to be a real investigation, something that would give her a chance to establish herself within the department. “It was just the deceased,” Ricky shifted uncomfortably. Shelly recognized the behavior, she’d seen it before. He was struggling to find the right words, not knowing what would offend her. He didn’t know her boundaries and wasn’t ready to test them. “I think they call it auto-asphyxiation.” “You mean he ended up choking more than just the chicken?” She joked. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.” Ricky chuckled, visibly relaxing. “He had some sort of secret sex chamber. That’s a false closet there, see?” Shelly took a look into the closet. The few long coats hanging there were pushed aside revealing a sliding panel left open at the back with a darkened room beyond. “That’s where he was found.” “Doesn’t leave much for me to do, seems pretty straightforward.” Shelly walked around the living room, taking a closer look at the few decorative items on the walls and shelves. She had to resist the urge to take off her shoes for fear of ruining the immaculate carpet. “Just waiting for the meat wagon, then my shift is over,” Ricky said with a shrug. “That could be a while, they’re pretty backed up downtown.” She noticed his gaze go to the big screen. “Missing the game?” “Mind if I put it on?” He reached for the remote. “I’ll do you one better. Why don’t you get out of here and catch the rest of it at McNeely’s with the guys. I’ll wait here for transport.” “No kidding? You sure you don’t mind?” Ricky looked like a kid who just got released from detention early. “Get out of here. But don’t forget you owe me one.” Ricky thanked her at least a dozen times on his way out. Shelly stood at the door until she heard the muted sounds of the elevator taking him downstairs. She returned to the living room, and this time she did take her shoes off. Not out of concern for the carpet, but to feel plush softness under her tired feet. She explored the rest of the expansive apartment. Each room was a potential exhibit in a modern art museum. Even the bathroom was a pristine study in order. Nothing out of place, nothing unclean, nothing to be embarrassed by. Shelly thought of someone walking around her place right now and shuddered. Once back in the living room she considered the closet and what lay beyond. She finally made up her mind and went to it and tentatively stepped through the concealed panel. The only light came through the row of tinted, ceiling to floor windows along one wall. She noticed when she arrived that they were the type that allowed you to see out but not in. The glittering city in the near distance was like a life-sized mural. Strange dark shapes were scattered around the surprisingly large room giving few clues as to their true nature. A light switch glowed to her left, but she didn’t reach for it. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the faint light. She picked out the shape of a large bed at one end of the room. A shrouded form lay upon it. Shelly stepped out of the false closet and retreated to the sofa. She sat there on the edge of the stiff cushion contemplating the tingle that ran up her back at the sight of the body. She couldn’t remember ever feeling anything like it before. Her eyes kept drifting back to that doorway. What was in there that was so intriguing to her? Men remained something of a mystery to her. What she knew mostly came from her friends, psychology courses, and observation at a safe distance. Here was an opportunity to literally venture into the secret world of one man. The tools to fulfill his basest desires lay behind that wall. These things were available to her for the first, and perhaps only, time ever. Did she dare violate this private sanctuary? She suddenly felt very alone. This wasn’t the superficial feeling of being the only one in the apartment. Nor was it loneliness. She just felt inconsolably alone. The door to the apartment was left slightly open, just as it was when she had first arrived. Shelly quietly pushed it closed. Transport would have to ring the bell when they arrived. Even if they did walk in while she was in the room, she would be doing nothing wrong. She was a detective after all, one would expect her to investigate the scene. Right? She stood at the threshold of the hidden room knowing that she might convince a couple of stretcher-pushers, but she couldn’t so easily fool herself. Her fingers touched the light switch and a shielded track of lights around the edges of the ceiling responded. The room was imbued with an otherworldly blue glow that reflected off of the high white ceiling, bathing the space in a soft artificial twilight. The mysterious shapes from her first visit resolved into mostly familiar objects. Among the many items were an overstuffed chair and ottoman set in front of another large monitor screen, a telescope on a tripod was at the full-length windows, a computer and desk set in the corner. But there were other items that remained foreign. A leather covered board standing at least eight feet tall leaned against one wall, shackles and straps affixed to it at various points. A black sling was suspended from the ceiling near the bed. A large translucent latex bag lay in the middle of the floor with what looked like a small vacuum attached to it by a thin hose. Shelly finally brought herself to look again at the bed. The inexplicable tingle spread across her back and settled pleasantly at the nape of her neck. She moved through the room taking in some of the details. A case next to the screen held several hundred DVDs. Soft porn, hardcore, anal, lesbian, gay, and every other variation seemed to be represented in the collection. She walked along the windows coming to the telescope. She looked into the eyepiece. It was trained on a bedroom somewhere out in the city. It was empty now. She continued on, feeling exposed in front of the bare windows, but knowing no one could see her. She came to the bed. It was large, covered in smooth dark sheets, probably satin or maybe silk. His body was draped in a plain beige sheet taken from the linen closet. She noticed the subtle rounded rise in the fabric covering his groin. That tingle again. She moved around the bed to his side, casting a wary glance toward the door. She stood there considering what she felt so compelled to do. She knew it was wrong, but there was something inside her that wouldn’t otherwise be satisfied. She lifted the sheet. She didn’t expect to find the clear plastic bag over his head. A large rubber band held it closed around his throat. The inside was coated with condensation so she could not see his face. His body was tanned and athletic. Short dark hair covered his chest and ran in a line down his flat stomach. She could barely discern the outline of his penis in the shadows beneath the sheet. It stood at an odd angle, appearing almost erect. She dropped the sheet the instant the memory assailed her. She was suddenly back in college, an awkward freshman at her first frat party. She never should have gone to his room, but he was so nice to her. Everything that came after was a blur until she became suddenly aware of someone on top of her. Not just on her, but in her. His naked body slammed against her again and again, his hairy chest pressing into her face. She couldn’t breath, couldn’t scream, couldn’t make her arms push him away. She closed her eyes and tried to shake the memories away. This was why she couldn’t get close to a man, not even a dead one. She felt her knees weaken and she sank to the floor there next to the bed. Tears filled her eyes despite her efforts to will them away. The futility of her resistance became obvious. She gave in and let the tears come, let it all come. It had been a long time since she allowed herself to cry. After a few minutes the emotions waned. She felt somehow lighter, and more than a bit foolish. She pulled herself up off of the floor and noticed and open door nearby. It led to a small bathroom with a large shower, a whirlpool, and even a bidet. She went in and rinsed the drying tears from her face. Staring at herself in the mirror she saw the thirty year old woman she was, not the younger girl she felt like inside. Soft lines showed where once there was only smooth skin. She always believed she was pretty in her own way, but she couldn’t bear for anyone else to think so. Her hair was pulled back tight and pinned behind her head. She reached back and removed the unadorned black combs letting her hair fall down across her shoulders. It didn’t make her any younger, but it was an improvement. Back in the room, she spotted a chest of drawers against one wall. Next to it was a rack with lingerie on hangers. She flipped through the teddies, sheer jumpsuits, and frilly gowns. Shelly became conscious of the fact that she never had any real lingerie. A red bra was her raciest piece of underwear she currently owned. She went next to the dresser. A sculpture of a reclining nude woman rested atop the dresser. The sleek lines and glossy finish gave her a sensual aura. Shelly opened the top drawer and found a collection of dildos. They were pink, purple, black, and flesh-colored. There were long ones and short, bent and straight. Some were just smooth shafts, others shaped like a real penis. Shelly remembered getting a dildo once as a gag gift. She tossed it out without trying it. She regretted it a few days later when realized she kept thinking about it, but she was too embarrassed to buy one for herself. The next drawer down was full of panties. All different colors and styles. Some were crotchless. She lifted a pair out and held them up. These would probably fit. She folded them and put them back. The bottom drawer held some odd harnesses. One of them had a dildo attached to it. “So this is what a strap-on looks like,” She said aloud. She closed the last drawer and straightened up. She noticed again the statue of the nude woman. The scant details of her face gave the impression of satisfaction following intense ecstasy. Shelly opened the top drawer once more. She lifted a pink rubber shaft from inside. The smooth end tapered to a soft point, the sides were covered with small nubs. It was heavier than she had expected. Shelly twisted the black cap at the bottom and it began to hum. She quickly turned it off, feeling a ridiculous flush of embarrassment. She turned it on again, feeling it vibrate in her hand. She briefly touched it to her cheek. How silly is this, she thought. She slid the vibrator down the side of her neck, across her shoulder and to her chest. Alright, maybe not so silly after all. She gently played it across her breasts, touching it fleetingly to each of her nipples. She could feel them stiffen under her clothes. She slipped her jacket off and let it fall to the floor. She noticed the vibrator now felt warm in her hand as she absently strolled toward the windows. She squeezed each of her breasts with one hand while giving them each firmer attention with the buzzing dildo. She regretted not discovering this sooner. She could see her ghostly reflection in the window superimposed over the cityscape. She watched herself lower the vibrator down across her stomach and between her legs. She let out a soft groan of pleasure and pressed it harder against herself. She turned around and leaned against the giant plate glass window opening her legs a little wider. Shelly rubbed the dildo against her crotch pushing down against it. She was past the point of idle curiosity, she had to cum. She opened her eyes and noticed the ottoman by the chair. More memories came to her, this time they were pleasant. She was watching cartoons by herself on a Saturday morning that first time. The Christmas tree was blinking in the corner, and she was wearing her favorite pink flannel pajamas. She was lying on her belly on the ottoman and then slid off to go to the bathroom. She felt this wonderful sensation as the corner of the ottoman rubbed between her legs. Shelly walked across the dimly lit room, turning off the vibrator as she went. She looked down at the ottoman. It was leather, rather than cloth like the one she grew up with, but it looked to be about the right height. She couldn’t remember the last time she did this. She lowered herself onto the corner of the ottoman, feeling the familiar pressure nestle between her legs. She started turning her hips in small circles, grinding herself into the corner of it. She was transported back to a time when this feeling came without guilt or shame. Shelly pressed harder, feeling the fabric of her pants and underwear pushing against her pussy. She was warm and safe in her living room again. That image quickly faded when she opened her eyes. There he was across the room, under the sheet. Her eyes automatically went to that bulge. She couldn’t get a good look at it before, and now she wanted to see it. She stood and walked to the bed. She lifted the sheet from the bottom this time, planning to just fold it over his waist. As she moved it, the sheet slid to the side and the whole thing fell to the floor. His body lay there before her naked and perfectly still in the soft blue light. His large penis glistened with lubricant. A thin black strap was looped snugly around the base of his testicles pulling the skin tight, another was around the base of his shaft. Maybe that was why he still seemed to have a partial erection. The Things We Leave Behind Note from the author: I hesistated writing this story, but sometimes the characters take you where they want to go and you have no control. **** Lauren sat on her bed, silent tears falling. She was miserable again. She didn't intend to be such a bitch to Raija. What had started off as teenage jealousy had morphed into bitchiness, made even more so by her husband's death. And now with Raija bringing someone home for the first time, she was once again consumed by jealousy. She stood, moving to the wall adjoining Raija's room. Pressing her ear to the door, she could hear sounds of pleasure emanating from the room. Little cries and gasps that had her becoming slick and wet despite her sadness. Lauren was a beautiful woman. She knew it and had been told as much by any number of men. Men who wanted a beautiful woman on their arm as they paraded her in front of their friends and business associates and strangers. Her blonde hair hung below her shoulders in waves and her fair skin was set off by her blue eyes. She wanted nothing more than what Raija had seemingly found. To be loved completely. At 3:30 Lauren still couldn't sleep and kicking the covers off her legs, she lay in silence. Squeaking noises were coming from Raija's bedroom and Lauren glared at the wall. The two of them were like rabbits, almost as bad as her parents. She got up and cracked the window in her bedroom, just barely open, enough to send in a cold wind before climbing back into bed. Her hands naturally gravitated down her torso and began lightly stroking over her naked mound. She needed something to help take the edge off and for a moment, she was tempted to pull out her rabbit vibrator, but knew the gentle buzzing would carry in the stillness of the house. She was about to drift off to sleep, with her fingers drowsily stroking her clit when her door cracked open. She hoped it was Raija. Despite her bitchiness she missed her. During their last year of high school, in between bouts of competing for boys, they'd often stayed up late at night, talking about clothes and makeup. When she saw Larry's head pop through the door, she hurriedly scooted under the blankets on her bed. Her whisper was harsh. "What do you want Larry?" He grinned at her. "I heard you moving around and wanted to make sure everything was okay." His room was on the other side of hers. "Yeah. They're just keeping me up." Lawrence looked at his twin, her golden hair splayed on her pillow. "Hold on. I have something for you. Call it an early Christmas present." Lawrence ran off to his room and was back in a moment with a bag. "Sorry it's not gift wrapped." He sat at the foot of the bed, facing her. Lauren let her eyes drift over his featuers. His eyes mirrored her own except there was perpetual happiness in them. She'd never seen them clouded over with pain. She opened the bag and lifted out a large box. "Larry, what the hell is this?" "Shh. Do you want to wake everyone up?" He took the box from her and opened it. "It's a new vibrator. I figured your other one would be too noisy." He grinned at her. "Larry. It's not an appropriate gift to give your sister." Over the years he'd given gag gifts to everyone in the family. Realistic dog crap, fake vomit, dirty movies, you name it, they'd all gotten it. He looked at her for a moment before removing the pack of batteries he'd purchased and inserting them. He flicked the on switch and the beads inside the vibrator began rolling. It was incredibly quiet. "That got your attention huh?" Lauren blushed and looked away from her brother. "Laur, when was the last time you had sex?" "None of your business." "I think this bitchiness might be a result of not getting any. Just trying to do my part to keep the peace in the family." They both turned as a keening wail broke the silence of the house. They looked at each other and Lauren shrugged her shoulders. "I don't think that was Raija." Lawrence just grinned. "At least your room isn't closest to theirs. I've heard things over the years that should have turned me into a monk." "Everyone thinks you're gay." The words slipped out without thought. But it was true. He didn't bring women home, he never talked about any women. He wasn't yet married. "You're my twin. We're supposed to be closer than other siblings. Wouldn't you know if I were gay?" Lauren cast her eyes downward. They'd grown apart as kids. With another girl in the house the same age, she'd naturally gravitated to Raija, leaving Lawrence out in the cold. She hesitated before asking. "Are you?" Lawrence stood and walked toward the bedroom door. He was halfway out of the room before he turned towards her. "Ask Raija." He pulled the door shut behind him and Lauren lie there on the bed in shock. Raija and Larry had been with each other? The next day, the family saw Raija and Galen off as they headed back to Texas. Lauren paid close attention to the rapport between Raija and Larry. The way his eyes held hers, her invitation for him to come visit Texas. Of course she invited Lauren as well, but Lauren was sure it was an afterthought. Their parents went out to run errands and Lawrence grabbed his ice skates and headed to the local rink for a pick-up game of hockey. Lauren was once again left all alone. All during the hockey game, Lawrence pictured Lauren, lying in bed, using the new toy he'd picked up for her. He knew that she wouldn't, she was far too uptight to take herself with his toy and he knew she probably spent too much time focusing on what it would mean to use it. His wandering thoughts got him cross-checked when he wasn't paying attention. He'd be sore and bruised later on, but it felt good to have a physical outlet. Letting himself into his parent's home, all was silent. Even though Lauren's car was in the driveway he didn't see or hear her and assumed that she'd left the house. Lawrence popped into the shower, washing away the sweat worked up by playing full contact hockey. He wrapped a towel around his waist and walked into his boyhood bedroom. He had the same twin bed he'd spent his childhood trying to comfortably sleep in. He lay down on the bed, the towel falling to either side of his legs as he began stroking himself. He had any number of fantasies and memories that he could call up at a moment's notice to help ease the way for his orgasm. Lawrence's head pushed back into the pillow as he began furiously pumping. A slight creak on the worn floorboards outside his bedroom door caused Lawrence's eyes to snap towards to the door. His hands stilled, only as long as it took to see that it wasn't his parents standing there, but instead Lauren. When she felt his eyes on her, she looked up from where his hands were busily taking care of things. "Larry, you should close your door!" Of course her eyes were still on him as he continued stroking. "Laur, if you don't want to see it, don't watch." Lauren, bluntly reminded that she was standing in his doorway, watching him, turned and walked downstairs. But not before Lawrence noticed that her nipples were pushing against her baby blue t-shirt. Lawrence turned over onto his stomach and ground his pelvis into the mattress. His eyes squeezed shut as he felt his ejaculate pouring out onto his sheet. ***** Lauren flinched as she heard the creak of the stairs. Lawrence stood staring at his sister's stiff back before going to the refrigerator and looking for something to eat. He turned around, leaning against the fridge doors and stared at Lauren until her eyes rose to meet his. "Listen Laur, I'm sorry you saw that." He wasn't really, but apologized anyway. "How could you have forced yourself on Raija?" Lauren's eyes were wide. "Lauren, I'd never force myself on anyone. You know that." "Then how? She's your sister for God's sake." "She's my sister because we were raised by the same parents, but we're not related by blood Lauren. Why do I even have to tell you that?" "But still, she's your sister." "Yes, and she's gorgeous and sexy and I didn't force myself on her." Deep inside Lauren knew that Larry would never have forced Raija. "How?" "Do you really want to know about this?" She did, but she didn't want to look too closely at the reasons why. "Make me something to eat and I'll tell you." Lawrence sat on a barstool at the butcher block island and watched as Lauren made him a turkey dinner sandwich. Turkey, stuffing, fresh cranberry relish and cheese stuffed in a roll. Lawrence took his sandwich into the family room and turned on the television to a science fiction channel and turned down the volume. Lauren followed him in and sat on a chair opposite him. "Are you sure you want to hear about this?" Lauren nodded her head, avoiding his gaze. Lawrence swallowed the food in his mouth. "Raija came home one frustrated one night because Tim Chagnon refused to go down on her. Apparently he liked having Raija go down on him but not the other way around. We got to talking about it and I volunteered to help her out whenever she was frustrated and vice versa. It lasted all during our senior year in high school and most of college." Laura quickly peeped at him. "But what did you do?" Lawrence sat his plate down on the end table. "What do you think we did Laur?" She blushed before whispering. "Did you do it?" "Yes and more." Lawrence felt himself go hard at the thought of the things they'd done together and experienced with each other. He looked over at Lauren and again noticed that her nipples pointed insistently against her top. "Were you doing it with other people too?" He grinned. "Nope. It started out as an end to frustration, but I think pretty soon it was all about the two of us, without the need for frustration. Plus, I'm more of a one-woman man." Lawrence stood and stretched and Lauren's eyes were drawn to his abdomen. He hadn't put on a shirt and stood there with his jeans riding low on his hips. His stomach was flat and had a narrow band of hair that trailed off into his pants. "I'm grabbing a Moxie from the kitchen, you need anything?" His offer trailed after him as he walked out of the room. Normally she would have teased him about his love of Moxie; the official soft drink of Northeastern New England, specifically Maine and the eastern parts of New Hampshire. But not today. She was headed up the stairs and called down to him. "No thanks, I'm going to do a load of laundry before I start packing for home." Lauren went into the bedroom and shut the door, leaning back against it. Even though Larry hadn't been explicit, she could imagine he and Raija coupled. The thought didn't repulse her as much as she thought it would and she knew it was because they didn't share a bloodline. She gathered her dirty laundry and headed for the washer and dryer in the basement. Larry was still sitting in the family room watching TV when she walked by. "Hey wait a second. Can you throw something in with your stuff?" Before she could answer, he'd run upstairs and came back with the sheets from his bed. "I'm not washing your bedding jerk." He shrugged at her and went back to the television. Lauren trudged downstairs, vowing to repay him for having to do his dirty laundry and a thought struck. She was washing two loads of clothes, one had some bright colors in it and that's the load that his sheets would go in. Lauren headed back upstairs and sat on her bed. She flicked the TV on and channel surfed. She'd dozed off briefly when she heard Larry roar her name and heard his footsteps bound up the stairs. He stood in the doorway glaring at her. "What?" "You turned my sheets pink!" "I did?" "Don't play dumb with me Lauren Rose. You intentionally turned my sheets pink in the wash." "You shouldn't have pawned your dirty sheets off on me then." Lauren stuck her tongue out at him as he stood in her doorway. He glared at her for another long moment and then struck. "So did you try out the new toy." She threw a pillow at him and he ducked. "Larry, you can be so inappropriate." "Inappropriate? Is that the best you can come up with?" Lauren stayed silent. "Well did you?" "Of course not." "Where is it?" "What?" "Where is the new toy?" "Larry." She screeched as he came further into the room. He opened the doors on her bureau and rummaged through her underwear drawer and then flipped open her suitcase. Nothing there. The last spot was under her pillows and he lifted one and there it was. He picked it up and looked at it closely. There was a definite sheen on it. "Liar. You did use it." Lauren turned red from head to toe. "How did you know to look under there?" "That's where you've always hidden it. So tell me Laur, did you come up here and slide it inside thinking about me and Raija in bed? Or was it last night when you listened to them doing it?" "You're a pervert Larry. A disgusting filthy pervert." Lauren shot off the bed headed for the bathroom. She tried to squeeze by him but he continued blocking the path from the bed to the door. She pressed her hands against his chest and pushed, but he was rock steady. He took her hands and guided them down to his stomach and left them there. Even though he was no longer holding her captive she didn't move her hands. "And you're an uptight, repressed little ice queen." He knew the ice queen bit would hurt. She looked down and bit her lip again. He wanted to reach out and caress it with his tongue but noticed that she was looking down the head of his cock pointing through the top of his jeans. "Are you thinking about Raija?" He looked into her eyes. "No. Do you want to know what I'm thinking about Lauren?" "No." "Coward." "Let me go Larry. I'm not a coward, I just don't want to play your filthy little game." "Then ask me." The look in his eyes dared her. "What are you thinking about Larry?" She nervously bit her bottom lip before looking into his eyes. "I'm thinking about you. Lying here in your bed, slowly sliding the shaft of that toy between your pink little lips before sliding it deep inside you and then stroking your clit." Her eyes went wide at his accurate description and then even wider as he moved his hands to her waist and pulled her closer. "So Laur," he whispered, his breath burning hot against her ear, "can I watch you with your toy?" "How do you know. Did you watch me last night?" "Not last night." He left a lot unsaid with those three words. "Then when?" Her heart beat faster. "Raija and I watched you one night. It was that first Christmas that you'd brought Mark home with you. He'd stayed up late, drinking alone in the kitchen while you came up to the bedroom. We were in my room and heard your soft little cries. Raija wanted to see so we cracked the door and watched you. So dainty and ladylike, never losing yourself in the pleasure. Why is that Lauren, why can't you just let go? Let yourself go for me." Even though the thought turned her on incredibly, she was poised to say no. This was her brother. Just as she formed the word no, he slid one hand around her waist, and with the other glided up over her belly and pulled her taut nipple sharply. The desire in her eyes was driven out by the sudden and intense pain, which quietly settled into an even deeper desire. "Don't say no Laur. Not when you really want to say yes. It's a one time arrangement, I'll help ease your pain and you well, you'll make one of my fantasies come true." His finger was still working magic on her breast, tugging and teasing, driving her need higher. Just then the front door opened and they heard their parents call out to them. "We're upstairs." Lawrence was the one to answer them, his voice steady and sure. Lauren tried to move away as she heard them coming up the stairs but Lawrence still had one hand on her hip and the other tugging on her. "Larry let go, they'll see you." "Nope, they'll see us." He corrected her gently. "I'll let go when you answer me Lauren. Can I watch you?" An even sharper tug had her falling against him and whimpering. She was so close to the edge and one more pull would push her right over. "Okay." Lawrence let her go just as their parents reached the top landing. He quickly adjusted himself in his pants and she moved to the bed and began rearranging the clothing in her suitcase. "You kids have a good day?" Lawrence turned around to face his parents. "Larry, what happened to your chest?" "Just a little cross-checking in the hockey game mom." Their mother coddled Larry, which saved Lauren from having to turn around and face her parents. As his parents clucked over him, he called back over his shoulder. "See you later Laur." ********** "Changed your mind yet?" Lauren didn't look up from her book. She had waffled back and forth for hours. Her body was humming like a live wire. Larry had stoked a fire in her that now needed to be tended but she still felt embarrassed by what they were planning. "Lauren, I won't do anything you don't want me to." Lauren wasn't sure that was the answer. His handling of her earlier had brought out urges she didn't know she had. "What are you kids doing tonight?" Their parents were dressed for their weekly bowling league in matching bowling shirts. "I'm thinking of catching a movie." "Take your sister with you, she could use the company and a good time." "I'm trying Dad." "Lauren keep your brother company." Lauren knew her parents worried about her even though they didn't talk about it. "I'll think about it Mom." Their parents left the house and Larry headed upstairs to get dressed. "Where are you going?" She hadn't intended it come out with such need. "Changing for the movie. You should get dressed too." "But I thought." "Hmm?" "Nothing." Lauren came out of the bedroom dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. "You should put on something a bit dressier than that." "Why, it's the movies." "Yeah, but it's the new movie theater combined with a restaurant." She grunted her displeasure but turned around and went back to change. She came out this time dressed in a tan linen skirt and a beige keyhole sweater. He whistled as she joined him downstairs. He was wearing a pair of well worn jeans with a striped shirt that he left untucked. The blue, brown and white in the shirt brought out the sharp color of his eyes. As they drove away from the house she concentrated on giving him directions. When he turned away from the direction of the movie theater and headed down highway 93 she turned to him perplexed. "I thought we were going to the new place?" "Changed my mind." "Where are we going then?" "Still going to the movies." As they headed into Massachusetts, Lauren's eyes drifted shut. They pulled to a stop and she opened them, to find that they were parked in the rear of an adult movie theater. "Larry, I'm not going in there." She imagined there were probably sticky floors and used tissues all around the place. "Just try it for me Lauren. It's not what you're expecting. I promise." Against her better judgment, Lauren followed him inside the lobby. It was dimly lit and she mechanically walked behind him as he paid their admission price and guided her to a door marked Taboo. Stepping inside the room she first noticed the deeply recessed chairs and sofas that littered the room, turned at odd angles so that they faced the large movie screen in the front of the room, but also so the occupants could catch glimpses of everything else going on in the room. "Larry, what is this?" "It's an adult movie theater. Just a more upscale one." "What if someone sees us here?" "If they see us here, then we also see them here Lauren." The Things We Leave Behind Lawrence guided her to a loveseat in the rear of the room that offered more privacy than the rest. The lights dimmed and a few more couples entered and grabbed seats, spacing out so that everyone had privacy before the movie started. Lauren whispered. "So what's the movie about?" "Well the title is Taboo and we're brother and sister, so guess." She blushed. As the movie started she tried following the plot and apparently it was just as Larry had predicted. Incest. A mother and son, father and daughter then brother and sister. As the explicit images flashed on the screen, Lauren's eyes sought out the other occupants of the room. All couples, about 6 in total. She could hear whispered laughter and the sound of crinkled foil. "Are people doing it?" "Lauren, the word is fuck. Yes people are fucking in here." The couple nearest them started kissing, the woman sitting in the man's lap facing him as he removed her bra. Lauren watched in fascination as the woman's breasts were on display for everyone in the room and then noticed that she was the only one staring. She turned her eyes back to the screen just in time to see the brother slide into his sister. Lauren could feel her panties grow wet and squirmed on her part of the sofa. Larry's eyes were on the couple and he watched as the man tongued the woman's breasts. He turned his head to watch Lauren and saw her eyes cloud with desire. Moving slowly, he brought her legs over his so that she was leaning back against the arm of the sofa. "Lauren, did you remember to bring your toy?" "Larry I can't, in front of these people." "No one would be watching honey." "I didn't bring it." Lawrence reached for her purse on the floor. Reaching inside he pulled it out. "Good thing I remembered to grab it for you." She blushed. "People are watching." "Honey, people are watching everything. But you can start doing it under your skirt if you want to." He could tell that the idea intrigued her. He reached out and touched her cheek before stroking down her throat and then circling her nipple with his thumb. Her face was flushed and he breathing quickened. "Did you like what I did to you earlier honey?" They heard a woman cry out in pleasure and Lauren nodded her head. "Take your bra off for me Lauren." Lauren tried to minimize her movements in order to avoid drawing attention and slid the bra off under her sweater. Lawrence pushed the sweater up over her breasts, ignoring her signs of panic and stared at her. Lauren's fair skin took on a rosy hue over her breasts. Her breasts were small with large thick, dusky nipples that called for him. He stroked each breast, teasing around the outer edge of the areola before taking a nipple in the fingers of each hand and tugging. Lauren's mouth fell open on a soundless moan. Lawrence tugged again, this time harder and the pain was so sweet that Lauren knew that she'd do anything he asked her to. Lawrence saw the submission in her eyes and pulled her to him. Settling her on his lap, he nipped and teased with his teeth, tongue and fingers until she squirmed against the bulge in his pants. Her head fell forward against his shoulder as he continued his actions. He pressed his mouth over the full inside curve of one breast and left a mark on her. "Did you just give me a hickey Larry?" "Consider it my mark of possession Lauren Rose." Staring over his shoulder, Lauren watched as a couple arranged themselves on a sofa, the man standing behind the woman who was kneeling on the sofa. She watched the look of rapture on the woman's face and realized that the man had entered her. "See anything you like Laur." Lawrence's hands and mouth were still tormenting her. "Yes. Do you think they're all related?" "Maybe one or two. Others just like the fantasy of it." Lauren was entranced watching the woman's body as it swayed forward and then back onto her lover. Just then Lawrence bit down hard onto Lauren's left nipple. The corresponding shock sent shockwaves through the center of her and she found herself flying over the edge and cuming. Lawrence stroked her back as her body shuddered atop his. "Good girl." Lauren hid her face in his shoulder and then looked up to find the other couple watching the two of them. Lawrence's hands drifted down her back and stroked along her spine, dipping into the tops of her panties before grasping her bottom. His hands splayed wide over her bottom as he massaged her cheeks. Lauren thought they were done, until she felt one hand slip between her ass cheeks and stroke her puckered hole. Her eyes flew to his and she watched him smile lazily. "I guess I'll save that for another time." Lawrence's hands moved around to the front of her panties and he stroked the damp material lightly. "You're a wet little girl aren't you Lauren Rose?" She nodded her head and then sighed as he pulled the panties to one side and slid a finger between her lips. He stroked back and forth before pulling his finger out to paint a wet spot onto her nipple. He then suckled her nipple into his mouth and returned his finger to her pussy to continue stroking. Lawrence flicked her clit at the same time that he nipped her nipple and she let out a surprised moan that caused several glances to come their way. Lawrence only had to slide two fingers deep inside her for Lauren to begin riding his hand. The fingers of his other hand repeatedly flicked her clit until those same sexy little cries he'd heard long ago fell from her mouth. Her pussy clenched around his fingers and her fluids poured out onto his hands. Lauren rested her forehead against his and tentatively brought her mouth to his. Kissing her brother seemed like a much more intimate act that what they'd done so far. Lawrence's lips were warm and pliable against hers and he let her guide the kiss. Her kiss was shy and hesitant. Lawrence grew impatient and holding her head in place, thrust his tongue into her mouth, stroking along her tongue until he felt her move insistently over his hardon. "Show me Lauren." Lauren realized that she liked the way he said her name. He drug it out like it was pleasureable for him. She looked in his eyes and shook her head. He sighed at her and reaching for the vibrator on the loveseat next to them, urged her off his lap and back onto the loveseat. She sat against the arm of the loveseat and when she moved to close her legs he shook his head at her. "Since you wouldn't show me, I guess I'll have to do the work myself." Lawrence parted her legs wider and gazing down at her pinkness, resisted the urge to lap at her. Instead he gently pressed the head of the vibrator into the opening of her pussy. When she would have watched his face or anywhere other than what he was doing, he ordered her watch him. Lauren looked down, face flushed from watching her brother slide a vibrator inside her. Lawrence pulled the vibrator back out and Lauren turned her pinker at the evidence of her arousal clinging to it. Lawrence activated the fluttering wings of the hummingbird attached to the shaft of the dildo and let the wings flutter over her clitoris. Lauren closed her eyes as Lawrence slid the length back inside her. The hummingbird was firmly lodged against her clit and her hips started rising and falling. Lawrence watched as his sister had her third orgasm of the night and once again had to fight his natural urge. This urge was to sink inside her and join their bodies. Well before the movie ended Lawrence helped Lauren replace her clothing and tidy up. They left before anyone else and rode home in silence. Later that night Lauren lay in her childhood bed, stroking herself, debating whether she had the nerve to finish what they had started. The Things We Leave Behind Jake, a handsome thirty-something man, visits with his elderly father Ben. They talk about baseball, cars and the weather, but Jake changes the subject abruptly and the tone turns serious, even somber. "Dad, I'm leaving Samantha. We're getting a divorce. I'll be moving out next week." "Why?" asks the grizzled old man. "Our marriage isn't working out." "What about your kids?" "They'll be fine." Ben huffs at the thought, believing otherwise. "You've met a girl," Ben tosses in confidently. Like an elite poker player, his father somehow sees the truth that his son conceals. Jake is momentarily frozen, unsure how to proceed. Jake knows, however, that full disclosure is inevitable. Better to be honest now than to explain this lie later. "Yeah, I have. Her name is Sharon. She's really great." Jake expects a harsh reaction, but his father is merely wistful. Ben leans back in his chair and sighs. He contemplates the situation as if he were trolling through a lifetime full of experiences and memories, trying to locate those that would help him counsel his son. "Are you free tomorrow night?" "Umm," Jake responds, apparently trying to pore through his schedule mentally. "I guess so." "I'd like you to come back. This guy Alec lives across the hall. We get together every Thursday night for a couple of hours to talk." "Why?" Jake asks. "Are you two going to gang up on me?" "Nope," Ben chuckles. "I promise." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Jake drives home, realizing his father disapproves of his impending divorce. He remembers many good years with his wife Helen, but those years are in the distant past. Marital life has taken its toll. Raising children and financial woes have crushed the romantic and sexual excitement. He has a new girlfriend now, Sharon. She is sexy and vibrant. Jake is uncontrollably drawn to her. Her wet kisses feel, to him, like liquid sex. Each taste increases his need for her exponentially. Sex with Sharon is both romantic and sensual. She opens and accepts him so easily, so completely. She is new, different and exciting. His touch arouses her without fail; he rediscovers skills he thought he had lost and discovers new ones he never imagined having. Her laugh is contagious, her cries of pleasure feminine and full of joy. He hungers to be with her, to see her smile and bring her ever increasing levels of pleasure. She is a beautiful and happy new toy to play with. The fact that she responds to him and is eager for more makes him feel – for the first time in many years - like a man. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After fabricating an excuse to leave home, Jake heads straight to Sharon's house. She opens the door and welcomes him as only a woman in love can. He looks into her eyes and tells her he loves her. They kiss tenderly. He playfully pinches her nipple through the top she is wearing, and she reciprocates by rubbing two fingers along the bulge in his pants. They hold each other, smiling and kissing and cooing. They are lovers in every sense of the word. Jake removes Sharon's clothing a single article at a time. Her body is fresh, uncharted territory and she is completely open to every one of his explorations. He sucks on her nipples, because he knows they are sensitive and loves to hear her squeal in delight. He rubs his face between her breasts, then kisses a vertical path down her body. She opens her legs for him - a simple, sensual act that Jake accepts as the highest unspoken compliment she could bestow upon him. He rewards her by massaging her mound with both his fingers and his tongue. She begs for him to lick her deeper, but she knows she will have to beg more. Much more. Jake loves the sexual power games they play; they are yet another wonderful new experience Sharon brings to his life. She begs and begs and begs again. When Jake senses she is at her peak and needs a final climax, he seeks out her sensitive clit with his tongue, finding it hiding beneath folds of warm flesh. She gasps, her legs spasm and her hands reach for something to hang on to. She lurches forward, grabs Jake's hair and climaxes, providing a fresh flow of sweet fluid for her lover to consume. He is glad to oblige; his tongue continues to clean and pet her as she rests. Jake then flips her on her belly and licks her anus, an exotic act that has always held a particular fascination for him. Sharon, eager to please, opens her cheeks and tells him how good it feels. There is no self-consciousness or shyness between them. Sharon turns around – finally - and grasps his cock and pulls it toward her. She wants him, and again he feels like a man able to completely satisfy the woman he loves. Jake marvels at his new relationship; here is a girl who wants sex with him in every endless variation, not out of duty or sympathy, but out of love. She kisses and sucks the tip, savoring his hardness, lapping up the small amount of fluid forming at the opening. She smiles at him as she pulls him between her lips. She works her tongue underneath, stimulating the single spot that always drives Jake crazy. When he is close to orgasm, Sharon sucks faster, sending him the clear message that she hungers for his impending orgasm and the taste of his semen. He studies her warm, round face as he spurts into her mouth, thinking he must be the luckiest man in the world. She pumps him from the base to the head to ensure that she has swallowed every drop. She enjoys satisfying her man. Jake can't imagine letting this go. Ever. He wants to scoop Sharon up in his arms and fly her away to a desert island somewhere. They would make love every day, for hours on end, just like this. He needs this, craves this. He loves her very much. He is a new man. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The next night, Jake visits with his father and Alec. "I felt like a new man," Ben explains. "Was married for eleven years before I met her. That woman was the most exciting thing I ever laid eyes on." Jake is surprised. He never heard details about his father's affair. Vague rumors occasionally circulated through the family. Jake assumed that if the rumors were true, it was a casual fling that ended quickly. Apparently not. "It's an amazing thing, an affair," Alec says, puffing on a pipe he had lit a few minutes before. "You get married and think everything is set for life. But a sweet-smelling thing crawls past and you miss the excitement. The chase." "Did you have an affair, too?" Jake asks Alec curiously. He is out of his element here, discussing very private things with old men. "I did. Three affairs, to be precise. Left my wife for the last one. She was one hot woman. Smart, too. We could fuck all day and work crossword puzzles in the breaks between." Everyone laughs, but Jake is uneasy, hearing this vulgar old man discuss sex in such a crude manner. He realizes, however, that perhaps his father and Alec are not so different from himself. "Dad, I always heard about an affair, but it was kept pretty quiet." "It stays with you, Jake. The feeling never goes away. Not even forty years later." "Why? It was so long ago." "I still hunger for that woman today. Oh, the times we had. It was wild." "Where is she? Is she still alive?" "No idea. I doubt it. She moved on many years ago." "Did you love her?" Jake asks cautiously. He knows he is treading dangerous ground. "Yes, I did. Very much." "Did you ever think about leaving Mom for this other lady?" "I admit that I did." "He woulda done it, too, if it hadn't been for your family," Alec chimes in. He points at Ben and adds, "It broke him up to let that woman slip through his fingers." Jake looks at his father, an exhausted but stoic man who has spent a lifetime fighting to keep his family afloat. Ben had been a construction foreman for many years before building his own company. He had always been accustomed to difficult times; the ups and downs of the local economy prevented the family from enjoying any financial stability. Ben has always been, above all else, a tough character who keeps his thoughts private and shows little emotion. His father's sadness, therefore, strikes a deep chord within Jake. "If you loved her so much, maybe you should have left. We would have survived." Ben shakes his head and tries to respond, but struggles. He doesn't want to be emotional, especially in front of his son. "Jake, your father loved you guys," Alec intervenes. "He woulda thrown himself in front of a train to protect you and your mother." "Yeah, but..." "But nothing, Jake," Ben finally spits out. "There comes a time where a man has to ask himself where he belongs." "Jake," Alec says. "Your father and I talk about this shit every week. Your father loved this other woman, but stayed with you. I loved another woman and left. I think I was the one who fucked up." "You regret leaving your wife?" Jake asks Alec. "I certainly do. Like your dad says, you gotta know where you belong." Jake looks down and suddenly feels as if he were in over his head. "And where did you belong?" Jake asks Alec. "With my family." Jake contemplates Alec's response. Did they really feel as strongly about their women as he feels about Sharon? "You love this girl, don't you kid?" Alec asks directly. "Yeah." "The sex is great, I bet." Alec muses. "There's nothing better than sex with a new girl." "I want to be with her," Jake mumbles. "Of course you do," Alec continues while Ben sits idly. "She's new and exciting. Different." "No, its more than that," Jake insists. "She is a great person. You'd both like her a lot." "I don't doubt that for a second, Jake," Alec says. "I loved my woman, too. I left my wife for her after the kids were grown. But I didn't really belong with her." "How do you know?" "I married a great woman. We built a family. How could I belong somewhere else?" "Did you try to get your wife back?" "It was too late." Jake looks down, embarrassed by the tone of the conversation. Jake thinks that he has a handle on reality better than these old men did in their day, but he is unsure enough to stay and listen. "Jake," his father speaks up. "Life is short. Just make damn sure that you leave... something of value behind, okay?" "What do you mean?" Jake asks quizzically. "Well," Ben says. "I mean, we're all gonna die. When it's all said and done, what matters is that we left something on this world that's worth a damn." "I don't really have that, Jake," Alec says, clearly upset. "I have nothing. My kids don't visit anymore. They have a step-father, so I grew apart from them. Both my ex-wives have moved on. My relationships were all temporary, kid. Disposable. It was fun and made for some good tales, but I have nothing left to give and nobody to give it to." Alec excuses himself and leaves. Jake is quieted. The old men have lived a long life and have experienced many things. He can't imagine that many years down the road, he will still be ruminating about his past like this, chastising himself over past decisions. "Sorry," Ben says. "I didn't want to get emotional, but you should know that what you're going through isn't new." "I can see that," Jake says. "I can't judge you, Jake. My life hasn't been squeaky clean and I don't have any answers." Jake doesn't understand, not really. He wants to ask what he should leave behind, and whom should he leave it to. He doesn't, though, deciding that perhaps someday he would figure it out. "I'm proud of you, son. I always have been. Never forget that." Jake hugs his father, then wonders if his own son will come to him someday when he is old and hug him the same way. He hopes so. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Jake returns to Sharon that night and makes love to her. As they fondle and play like excited virgins, Jake asks himself if this is where he belongs, by Sharon's side. So many things about Sharon excite him - her voice, her smell, the way she reacts to his touch, her laugh, the taste of her kisses and the warmth of her skin There's more, so much more. She is wonderful and he enjoys every moment with her. But...does he belong with her? Wearing a pair of black thigh-high stockings - his favorite article of lingerie - she reclines on the bed, shows him her slit and invites him to take her. He teases her with his erection, prodding at her opening for endless moments, permitting her pussy lips to wrap around the head of his manhood and hold him. She begs for his erection, begs for it deep inside her. He loves her body, her smile, the way she plays and begs and yearns. He relents and thrusts deep inside. He can't bear the thought that maybe he doesn't belong with her. Making love with her feels so good that he can't comprehend not being able to enjoy it ever again. Jake asks himself how spending time with Sharon could feel so perfect, and yet still be the wrong thing for him to do. He takes Sharon with wild abandon, pinning her arms and thrusting deep. He doesn't know if this will be his last time with Sharon, but doubt has crept into his mind. Impossibly, he feels more attracted to Sharon then ever; his thrusts send him higher, to a new level. It isn't fair, Jake thinks: If this is so wrong, then this shouldn't feel so good. Sharon has orgasm after orgasm, but Jake holds off. He kisses Sharon, massages her breasts and continues to thrust rhythmically. Jake doesn't want to climax, not yet – perhaps this will be the last time. He hangs on to his impending orgasm for as long as possible, keeping a tight hold on this moment of ecstasy. He wants time to stop right now, forever, but Sharon feels so good...so perfect...that he can no longer hold back. Jake climaxes. Hot, thick sperm is pumped from his body and into hers. Sharon accepts his fluid completely; she is proud to carry Jake's seed. They smile, hug and dance together as she captures those final few drops . Jake is in love and completely intoxicated. He knows he can't simply dump Sharon. The idea is painful and gut-wrenching. Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he really does belong with Sharon. He is confused and needs time to think. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - A few nights later, Jake and Sharon talk while strolling through a city park. Kids are running and laughing while adults lounge on various benches nearby. "I can't leave my family. At least not yet," Jake begins. "Okay?" Sharon asks quizzically. "I need...time. My kids mean so much to me, I don't want them to be hurt." "Hey, it's okay. I understand." "You do?" Jake is surprised. "Yes," she responds, turning to him and looking him directly in the eye. "Sometimes I feel so guilty. I mean, would you still be divorcing your wife if you hadn't met me?" "Oh yeah," Jake answers. "Well, I'm not so sure about that. Anyway, I love you. I can be patient." Jake smiles and holds her tight to his chest. He kisses her forehead and tells her how much he loves her. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Three years later, Jake's father, Ben, passes away in his sleep. At the funeral, Jake gives the eulogy. He turns to address the gathered mourners. "My father was a special man," he begins. "He wasn't perfect and had flaws. Like everyone else, I suppose. But, I'll never forget that he was always there for me. He sacrificed for all of us in many ways." Jake begins to break down on the podium and an understanding hush falls over the gathering. He takes several moments to gather himself and wipe away the tears that had been streaming down his cheeks. "My father once told me, 'The only thing that matters are those things you leave behind.' I never really understood what he meant until he died. I can see that my father left us all so many things. He gave us his hard work, his energy, his enthusiasm for life and his love. He taught me to be tough, own my mistakes and not blame others. He taught me to sacrifice and be the best person I can be. I loved him and will never forget him. His spirit, his energy and passion will live on." After the service, he is greeted and hugged warmly by his family and friends. He scoops up his son and gives him a big hug. His daughter clutches his leg, hiding behind it for protection from the throng of funeral-goers. Jake can see that his kids are proud of him, because he gave such a nice speech in front of so many people. He kisses his wife. He loves her very much and will be with her forever. He loves and misses Sharon. Jake feels very naïve about life; he doesn't understand how love could have steered him in so many conflicting directions, or how his time with Sharon could have been full of such happiness and joy, yet still, inexplicably, be wrong. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Jake spends the next three decades of his life with his family. Sharon eventually gives up hope that Jake will leave his wife. She breaks up with him and moves away. Over many years, Jake and Samantha patch their marriage and are able to move forward. Gradually, they fall back in love and are able to put the wounds of the past behind them. At the age of fifty-six, Samantha is diagnosed with breast cancer. Jake takes care of her tenderly, through myriad chemotherapy treatments and surgeries to remove the cancerous lumps. Jake appreciates his wife in a way that had eluded him previously. She grew weaker physically and it became apparent that she would not survive much longer. In her final days, Jake sees that she is a very hard and courageous woman. He tells her many times that he is honored to be her husband. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Jake, now sixty-eight, lives alone in a small apartment. He is visited by Sam, his thirty-six year old son. Sam has been married for ten years. He and his wife, Clarissa, live in an upscale suburban home with their three children. Today happens to be their tenth anniversary. "Congratulations, Sam," Jake says. "I'm proud of you. Ten years." "Thanks, Dad. I have an awful lot of respect for you and Mom these days. Marriage is harder than I thought it would be." Jake rolls his eyes. "I really wasn't such a great father, Jake. I'm sorry for that." "What are you talking about?" Sam responds incredulously. "You were a fantastic father." "We hit some major bumps in the road." "I've been married only ten years and already I feel like I'm missing something. Like life is passing me by. You made it look so easy." Jake shudders. He recognizes his son's words – many years ago, they were his own. "Did you know I had an affair?" Jake asks his son. Sam is embarrassed. He is dimly aware of his father's affair, but doesn't like to think about it. He recalls that his mother was crying frequently and his father was away much of the time when he was a young child. He overheard many conversations of divorce. "I guess I knew you and Mom were having problems." "Oh yes. I met this woman, Sharon, when things weren't going so well. I fell for her like a ton of bricks." "Wow. I didn't know." "If you open yourself up to love another, it will chart its own course." "So, what stopped you from going through with the divorce?" "My father once told me, 'You gotta know where you belong in life.' When you start a family, I think that's where you always belong." "Mom forgave you?" "She did. In time." "I don't understand. Why is it so hard?" Jake shakes his head dejectedly and thinks back to his time with Sharon. "I still feel her. She was like a flower, beautiful and soft. I can still feel her kisses and I can still see the way her eyes lit up when I held her." Jake points to his own chest. "She is still with me. In here." The Things We Leave Behind "Jeez, it's that strong?" "She seems to have conquered her own small territory in my heart and mind," Jake muses. "Lots of men have affairs, Dad." Jake doesn't directly respond to his son's statement. He has divulged all he cares to about his time with Sharon. "Sam, just remember something. Making things better for the next generation is about as close to the meaning of life as we're able to comprehend." Sam nods eagerly. "I agree with you on that one." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Three years after the conversation with his father, Sam meets Vanessa, a recent hire at his accounting firm. She and Sam become friends right away. There is an easiness to their conversation that Sam accepts as a sign that they could become so much more. Sam is attracted to her; she is a small woman with a smooth curvy body and firm legs. He fantasizes daily about her. Sam hears his father's words in the back of his mind. He asks himself whether he would be tempted to abandon the place where he belongs, and whether Vanessa would be granted an eternal space in his psyche exactly as his father described. If he were to begin an affair, would the relationship develop as his father's did? Would he come to love her as his father loved Sharon? The thought sends tingles down his spine, because he is somehow both intrigued and alarmed by the proposition. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - At eighty years old, Jake can barely walk. Arthritis has made every step a painful maneuver. In addition, he has been diagnosed with terminal bone cancer. With little else he can do, Jake takes stock of his life. There are many terrific memories, and he takes great pleasure in reliving the best of them in his final days. Sharon is not far removed from his thoughts. Despite the pain and confusion wrought from their affair, he is glad that she entered his life and touched him in so many ways. If Jake had any urge to analyze, he would be puzzled by this contradiction. After all, how can he encourage his son to step cautiously away from something that still held so much value for him? He suspects that human beings are faulty, emotional and needy by nature. For Jake, life seemed to have been an endless search for happiness and balance. As the final light slowly fades from his life, he is eternally thankful for his wife and children and the time they shared together. He also remembers Sharon; he hopes she has enjoyed life and recalls their short but intense time together with fondness. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ten years after Jake's death, Sam and Clarissa visit Jake's grave site. He lays a bouquet at the base of the stone. "I can't believe its been ten years," Clarissa whispers. "I know," Sam replies somberly. "I still remember him as if he just died yesterday." "He was a good man." "Yeah. He always protected us, tried to make sure we were okay." "See? You're a great man, a great husband and a great father, Sam. It's intergenerational." "Yeah. There he is, buried six feet under, probably being eaten by worms or microbes, but he lives on." "Does that mean we're immortal?" "I guess it does, so long as you leave behind something that the next generation can build upon." "You're father did that." "Yeah, he sure did." Sam and Clarissa leave the cemetery together holding hands, coincidentally wondering if their children, and their grandchildren, would talk about them in the same way. The Things We Leave Behind She knew it was wrong, but this was the only time she’d even been able to just stare at a man’s cock. No one would know, no one could judge her. It was completely shaved, and he was circumcised. She stepped back to keep herself from answering the impulse to reach out and touch it. Shelly went back to the ottoman leaving the sheet where it fell. She turned the footrest so she could face toward the bed. She squatted, pressing herself against the yielding corner. A shiver passed through her body. She closed her eyes and listened. Silence. Yet she no longer felt alone. Her eyes opened and she focused on the man’s body just across the room. He was only sleeping, oblivious to her intrusion. Shelly’s mind slowly constructed the fantasy, shading this situation with illusions of normalcy. Her hips shifted forward and back. They are lovers. She met him at a club, took him home and seduced him. She chose him. Her rhythm quickened. She could feel the wetness soaking into her panties. She used him to satisfy herself. He was nothing more than a hard cock, a pair of strong hands, and a willing mouth. Shelly had forgotten how good this felt. The pressure, the motion, the building anticipation of release. She used him in every way she desired except for this last service. She would take her pleasure from his exposed nakedness. Shelly’s legs quivered with the effort, her hands gripped the sides of the leather ottoman. Soft quick sighs of mounting bliss escaped her lips in pace with her gyrations. And still her eyes were locked on his body. The bad memories no longer stirred, she was in control here. He was vulnerable, unable to hurt her, incapable of rejecting her. She was almost there. Her orgasm began as a deep, almost imperceptible fluttering. Everything became blurred and gray. Only his cock remained clearly in focus. The cock that was hers to do with as she pleased. That smooth beautiful cock. Waves of exquisite sensation pulsed through her pussy. This was it. No holding back now, she was going to cum while looking at his cock still wet with her pussy juices. Shelly humped the corner of the ottoman with an animal intensity. Her hair fell across her face, and her sighs of pleasure were now cries of ecstasy. The leather was slick where her wetness had soaked through her pants. The full effect of her orgasm was almost upon her. “Yes! I’m going to cum,” she called out. “I’m going to make my pussy cum.” Her already frantic pace increased even more. “I’m going to make my cunt cum!” Her breath caught in her chest as the full force of her orgasm unleashed itself. She stopped and squeezed her legs tight against the corner. The sensation blossomed between her legs and spread through her body. She drew a long slow shuddering breath, savoring every tingle, each vibration. She rubbed herself slowly on the edge, coaxing every last shivery feeling from her pussy. She leaned forward, resting her weight onto the cushion. She stayed that way, splayed out across the ottoman, until her breathing finally slowed. Every part of her felt alive. “Oh god, what did I just do?” She slid off the ottoman onto her knees and looked across to the body on the bed. “What the fuck did I just do?” She stayed that way for several long moments trying to sort out what had come over her. This made no sense. This wasn’t who she was. This isn’t something she would do. She’s a police officer, a detective, for god’s sake! Shelly hurried across to the bed and spread the sheet over the dead man’s body. She consciously avoided looking directly at, or even noticing, his naked genitals. Once he was covered, she gathered a wad of toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped the corner of the ottoman clean, arranging it back to the way she found it. She slid the top drawer of the dresser closed on her way back to the bathroom, where she flushed the soiled tissue. She found a blow dryer in the cabinet beneath the sink and used it on the wet spot on her pants. It seemed to take forever to dry. This time when she looked in the mirror she could see the blush still in her cheeks from her exertions, and a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and neck. She scooped up her blazer on her way to the sliding door. She ruffled the carpet here and there, erasing the obvious impressions her bare feet left in places. She stood at the exit surveying the room. Was everything where it belonged? What did she forget? She reached for the light switch. The dildo! Shelly hurried to the chair. She grabbed the pink phallus and froze. Then the sound came again, it was the doorbell. Transport was here. She rushed out, flicking off the lights as she went. Halfway across the living room she realized she was still holding the vibrator. There was no place to stash it so she tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket. The two E.M.T.s at the door looked exhausted and generally disinterested. “Pick up for the city morgue?” one of them inquired. “This is it,” she acknowledged and they wheeled the stretcher in. “Follow me.” Shelly led them down the hall and through the living room to the false closet. She waited there while they struggled to get the stretcher through the small opening. She listened as they went about their work without conversation. Finally they reappeared, the too familiar sight of a body bag strapped to the white cushion of the stretcher. A sudden sadness welled up within her, as if they were taking something of hers away. She fought to control the feeling and followed the E.M.T.s out the front door. Almost as soon as she pulled the door closed behind her and she heard the mechanical sound of the lock clicking home she wanted to go back in. It was like she was leaving something behind, something of herself. She knew now that she experienced a momentary sense of wholeness in there. Conflicting emotions came and went from one instant to the next. Things that always made sense hurt, and the inconceivable felt somehow right. Was this what a nervous breakdown felt like? “I am not the same person I was before I walked into that apartment,” She thought while waiting with the others for the elevator. The doors opened and Shelly went in first. The E.M.T.s maneuvered the stretcher in with practiced efficiency. They turned and watched the display count down the floors. Shelly knew this would be the last time she would be with him. She reached out to touch his shoulder through the thick black plastic. Just before she touched him she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors and drew her hand back. They passed through the lobby, the rubber wheels of the stretcher rolling almost soundlessly across the marble floor. Shelly went to the desk and signed them all out. The guard thanked her and smiled. As she was about to go he spoke. “I like your hair better like that.” Her heart jumped. How could she be so stupid? She had forgotten her hair combs on the bathroom counter. She needed to get them out of there, but she couldn’t right now. “Thanks,” she tried to convincingly return the guard’s smile. “I may need to come back tomorrow for a follow up. Please make sure no one enters the apartment in the meantime.” “No problem, have a good night Detective.” As she turned to leave she became abruptly aware of the weight in her pocket. Her hand moved reflexively to the concealed vibrator. “I believe I will,” she answered and headed for home.