The Maelstrom

"I keep dreaming about you," I told him.

If Lawrence had been a puppy, his tail would have been wagging under the bed sheet. "Do tell!"

"Not that kind of dream," I burst his bubble, kissing him on the cheek before cuddling my head against his chest. "The other night I dreamed we were in court and your wi…" I was half way through the word before realizing I didn't want to say it.

Wife

. Speaking that forbidden word was like pole-vaulting; I needed a running start. Now I was taking too long, and the dead air was conspicuous. Just say the word, Audrey. Don't think, just say it.

"We were in court and your… W-word… was your lawyer and I was prosecuting the case, even though you were suing someone, so that didn't really make sense."

"Who was I suing?" Lawrence asked.

"I don't know," I shrugged, suddenly remembering something I'd forgotten. "I didn't know in the dream, either. I was kind of like, 'What day is it? What's going on? Where am I?' sort of thing. Really clueless, and somehow I still managed to win the case."

"The case against me?" Lawrence asked with a smirk, like I was so cute he couldn't stand it.

"Yes," I continued, remembering a little more. "It had something to do with some mail delivered to you. The envelope said 'Lawrence Galloway,' but the street address was my apartment, not your house. You didn't want to let on that you knew me, not with your lawyer-wife in the room, so her case fell apart. I won."

"Good for you!" Lawrence exclaimed in that cutesy-wutesy voice that made my stomach turn.

"Don't talk like that."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm five years old," I said through gritted teeth. "It drives me crazy when you talk to me like I'm a teddy bear or a puppet or something."

Head on Lawrence's chest, I could feel him holding his breath as I seethed. He whispered, "I'm sorry."

I didn't want to be angry with him, but how many times would I have to make the same simple request? "It bothers me because I feel like you're talking down to me…"

"…I'm not…"

"Hear me out, Lawrence," I cut him off, tugging on my crisp cotton sheet. "It bothers me because it reminds me how much younger I am than you. When you talk to me like a kid, it makes me feel like that's how you see me. Like you don't respect me or take me seriously."

Wrapping me in his arms, kissing my hair, Lawrence sighed, "Of course I respect you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

I had to laugh. Give me a break! If he didn't respect me he wouldn't sleep with me? Honestly! Like I was going to believe that.

"I mean it," Lawrence continued, kissing my forehead as I looked up into his clear blue eyes. "There's no such thing as 'just sex' for me. I could never sleep with a woman I didn't love, and I could never love a woman I didn't respect."

Lawrence the librarian. His words were my maelstrom, always pulling, pulling, pulling until I was deep inside his reasoning. His scent all around me dizzied my brain with its clean-man aroma. There was something so perfect about him, about his intellect and his noble good looks, his beautiful bald head. He was the smartest man I'd ever met. He'd read every book I'd ever heard of and then some, and he could recite Shakespeare with the ease of a song lyric. Everything seemed so effortless when done by Lawrence. Adoring him was the only option for me. Every time I saw the man, my heart grew and grew until it filled my chest like a helium balloon. Lips perched mere millimeters from his, I whispered, "I love you. Do you know that, Lore? I love you like you can't imagine."

His bedroom eyes sent tingles along my arms and down my abdomen, preparing my lower lips for another go. Descending like the cotton-ball snowflakes outside, Lawrence kissed me and I went spiraling in. The embrace was slow and sensual, like pulling a warm scoop across a cold tub of chocolate mousse ice cream. His mouth, hot as caramel sauce, consumed me body and soul. This man was everything I'd ever wanted, and more. He made me dizzy with desire.

Deserting my mouth, his tongue traced a hot path from my ear, down my jaw line until he found my chin and gave it a wet and sloppy kiss. I had to laugh. It was silly, yes, but he liked to throw in these little surprises. Lawrence always knew what to do next, and always without instruction. What did I do to deserve this bald beauty?

"This is my favourite part of your body," Lawrence whispered, kissing my neck.

"What is?"

"Right here," he explained, tracing the spot with his finger. "This little curve in your neck. It's perfect. It was made for me to kiss."

So he kissed it again. Funny how I'd never even noticed I had a curve of the neck. Isn't it wonderful when people see beauty in you that you never recognized yourself? Planting tender pecks down to my collarbone, Lawrence took a detour to my shoulder. There, he licked and sucked my skin, even biting as he hugged my body against his warm chest. I melted like a chocolate lava cake in those arms, hot gooey centre gushing out.

"I forgot to tell you the rest of my dream," I realized as Lawrence kissed his way down to my tingling breasts. "As we were leaving courtroom, I winked at you even though your W-word was right there."

Lawrence bit my nipple.

"

Aiy! Tu m'as fait mal

!" I cried. "Not so hard, please."

"Sorry," Lawrence offered, rubbing his nose through the valley of my breasts. At the base of them, he licked me artfully, running his wet tongue up to my nipple. He teased the pinky-beige buds by flicking and sucking in alternation.

Merde

, it felt so good I was ready to flip over him and fuck him right then, but Lawrence was always saying good things come to those who wait. He also said the longer he waited to come, the "good-er" it felt. Perhaps I didn't need to rush things along today. After all, what was my hurry? I could slow to his pace.

"Oh right, my dream," I remembered, so distracted by the expert mouth devouring my tits. "I winked at you invitingly, and you came up behind me and squeezed my bum. Unbelievable, I thought, that you were willing to be with me even after I'd won this court case against you…" Squeezing my breasts against his cheeks, trapping his head between them, Lawrence didn't seem to be paying me much attention, but I continued regardless. "…and I was amazed you would come on to me with your W-word in the room."

At that, Lawrence looked up at me, wide-eyed. Shocked? Or… what did that expression mean? "How do you know what she looks like?" he finally asked.

Ah, so that was issue. He thought I'd been spending my evenings in the bushes outside his house, in hopes of getting a glimpse of his wife. Like I was so anxious to find out what she looked like, to make sure I was more attractive than she, that I would stoop to stalking his family…

"

Saint-ciboire de tabernak

, I don't know what she looks like in real life," I said, pushing his head down. "In the dream, I just knew it was her."

"How did you know?"

"I just did. It was a dream."

Incredulously, he stared up at me. Unyieldingly, I stared back. I won. That look of apprehension faded, and he kissed my abdomen, making it hop like the surface of Lake Ontario on a windy day. When he reached the playground of my pubic hair, I shivered. He nuzzled his way between the wet folds of my pussy and that initial contact melted my body into a pool of hot cocoa. Instead of licking me like he usually did, Lawrence pressed his tongue full and strong against my pussy lips. He nodded his head up and down in slow, deliberate motions. He ran his head around in circles, eyes closed and making

mmm

sounds deep in his throat like my cunt was a delicacy. I thought my heart would explode at the sight of him. He'd never enjoyed the taste of me quite so much, as far as I could tell.

The very idea of Lawrence enjoying me enjoying him pumped my arousal up a notch. As he kept on pressing that warm tongue against my clit and down my lips, I couldn't help but gyrate against his elated face. That bald beauty made me purr like a naughty kitty. Running his hands up my abdomen, he squeezed my nipples into sharp peaks and my core surged with electricity. He licked up the sides of my pussy lips, centering in on the throbbing pink. Sipping my juices, he took my tender flesh gently between his teeth and tugged. His hands up and down and up and down and up and down my sides, Lawrence pushed my legs up so my feet ran the length of his back and my thighs sat on his shoulders. Holding my ass in his strong hands, he ate my cunt so fast and furious I didn't even know what he was doing anymore.

I tried to fixate upon the image of his lovely face, but my head just wouldn't stay still. It kept throwing itself back, my body hopping in fits and starts. The little encouragements I'd consciously been offering were superseded by cries that must have originated in my cunt, rising courageously up my core until they came barreling out my throat like a herd of giraffes. I closed my thighs around Lawrence's head, burying his ears in pasty white flesh as he sucked the pink from my clit. Oh, it was just too much. It was so much good that my body somehow managed to curl itself around his beautiful bald head, my hands tracing the muscles of his arms. He kissed my pubic hair. He kissed my abdomen. My body went limp and I fell back on the bed, but Lawrence scooped me into his arms and tucked me under the covers. He'd noticed my toes were cold.

Chin still glistening with my juices, Lawrence joined me under the covers, wrapping my frigid feet in his. "What happened next?" he asked as I wiped the gleaming nectar from his face.

"When?"

"In your dream? You won this court case and then…"

"Um…" The brain had closed up shop. Gone fucking. "Oh, right. So, before we left the courtroom, we made plans to see each other. Later on you showed up at my mom's house, so I guess that was the plan. You started hitting hundreds and hundreds of badminton birdies over the house, but they were crapping all over you so I made you take a shower. What do you think that means?"

"I have no clue."

"Me neither, and I'm usually pretty good with these things."

I snuggled in against Lawrence's chest, amazed at how content he seemed just to be huddled beside me. "Did I ever tell you about my recurring dream?" he asked.

"I thought you said you never dream."

"I don't anymore…"

"You do, you just don't remember."

"Well, all right, but before I met you I dreamed every night. In my dream, I was at sea aboard a small vessel approaching a Maelstrom, like in the story by Poe. I was in a panic because the winds were picking up and I could see the whirlpools up ahead. There was no chance of survival once I reached them, I knew, and my heart was racing. I was wrought with despair that my life was closing in on me, and then I reached the Maelstrom. When I looked into that swirling black water, I knew I was going to die and a feeling of utter contentment came over me. I was free. I was at peace. No responsibility, no worries – all that was left to do was relax and let the Maelstrom suck me in. It occurred to me that I should

want

to live, but there was a certain freedom in being able to give up hope. No pressure anymore. No concerns. No life. That's what I was thinking as the dark waters sucked me in."

"And then what?"

"Then nothing. That was the end."

"It sounds almost…" I didn't want to say it, but, "…suicidal."

Lawrence simply glanced at me with raised eyebrows and I got the point. "That dream dissipated when I met you. The very day I met you, actually."

I put my hand to my heart, like there was too much feeling for my chest to contain. My accomplishments in life were not many, but this was one good thing I had done: I'd saved Lawrence Galloway from despair. I may not have saved his life, but I may have. Who knows? "That dream reminds me of the bath," I said.

"What, swirling toward the drain?"

"No, it reminds me of…you'll think this is gross, but I'll tell you anyway. The Maelstrom is like being in the nice warm bath water and wanting to pee. Do you know that feeling that comes over you?"

"I don't take baths."

"It's a very strong sensation, a strong desire to pee, that comes over you. You know you shouldn't, but you can hardly help yourself. So you let go and as soon as you do you feel guilty and disgusting because you've fouled the pure and you can never un-foul it. The damage is done. Falling into the Maelstrom is like that. Our relationship is like that, too. Our relationship is like peeing the bath."

Lawrence cogitated, offering no response. "I'll have to digest that."

© 2008 Giselle Renarde