Adult content. Not intended for persons under the age of eighteen.

In the Flesh

Anida Adler

Metal box on wheels, pulled along a silver track that drew an idle line connecting her life to his. Anne watched through the window, safe in this containment, taking in glimpses of lives: granted to her like a slide show on someone’s FaceBook account.

There was no internet connection on the train, but she’d fired up her laptop anyway. She wrote to him as the train moved, swayed in a gentle dance that was, in contrast to her expectations, soothing. Words gathered on the page, shaped themselves into an anchor she held on to. It weighed down the needless, senseless fear, made calm trickle into her soul between the lumps of frozen panic.

Now the train slowed down. Around her, people packed away games, folded papers, finished conversations. Anne willed her muscles to move, and for a terrible moment, they wouldn’t. She pictured herself curled up on the floor, in the corner, wedged between the seat and the bolted table her laptop rested on.

No. Not this time. Deep breaths. He’s waiting. Webcam-familiar face will have the added depth of texture, taste. That was her reward.

Muscle loosened, listened, she pressed the button of her laptop to shut it down as if it was the easiest thing in the world. The woman opposite her smiled a generic, bland smile, then looked away. Anne pushed the laptop into its case, clutched the handles of her tog bag, and waited.

They’d talked through this many times, the way it worked. The train would slow, there’d be shuffling, announcements, but all Anne had to do was to stay put. This was the last stop, and she could wait until the bustle passed before she had to get out. This she did, feeling sweat bead cold on her forehead, clutching her laptop to her chest like a shield, holding her tog bag as if it contained a priceless treasure.

The murmur of voices, taps of feet, the scuff of bags and cases faded. Anne breathed deeply, then willed herself to stand. It felt as if her brain floated in her mind, as if it wasn’t connected to her body the way it should be. One foot in front of the other, she had to leave this safe cocoon. A cleaner stood aside, smiled with polite impatience as Anne eased her way to the door.

And he was there.

He stood right at the door, smiling, and her heart clung to the warm familiarity of him in the open-air space of the train station. Green eyes behind round glasses, a mop of dark brown hair that flopped over his forehead just so, no matter how much he brushed it away.

“Hello,” he said, and smiled that familiar slow smile of his, the one she’d somehow known was special when she read it behind the words the day he commented on her blog. And she’d commented back, starting a conversation between them that led eventually to this day.

His voice touched a nerve inside her, made something melt and flow warming around the ice of threatening panic.

“Hello.” Her own voice came out a squeak and she cleared her throat, embarrased. The feeling alarmed her: so many things could morph in the imbalanced chemical environment that was her brain, turn into the debilitating fear.

“You’re doing great,” he said, and was it her imagination, or was he proud? “Ready to step out?”

She nodded, throat closed, fought the vision of herself turning back into the train and hiding under a table. Instead she remembered the picture she’d rehearsed, that he’d talked her through online. She saw herself stepping from the train, onto the platform. One step. A simple act of moving your foot, your leg.

Scott moved closer, unhurried, and held out both his hands. “Easy step. Easy peasy,” he said, knowing the mantra she’d said she would chant.

It was. One moment she was riveted to the metal step, the next she reached out, felt warm hands receive her, and it was natural to move closer to him. A sense of achievement flowed from her heart through her veins, into her mind. “I did it.”

“You did,” he said, and nodded. “Can I take your bag for you? Let’s head for the car.”

She liked the way he walked. The ease of movement made her think of a giraffe. Anne focused her mind on the calm, unhurried flow of his body beside hers as they made their way through the station and into the car park, to his car. Her thoughts drifted to a secret curiosity: would he show the same grace if they made love?

He unlocked the passenger door for her and she got in with a commingled sense of relief and joy. She’d done it, she’d travelled all the way to where he lived. A small thing for most people, some of them did it every day.

It was unlikely any of them had stayed in their bedroom for three years, or fought another two year battle to overcome mind-malfunction everytime they stepped outside.

“Okay?” he asked as he got into the car beside her, without that edge of worry her mother’s voice always carried when she tried to help. That edge would cut the tenuous grip Anne had on her ever present panic, and control would start slipping from her hands.

“Fine. Just tired.” And she was, exhausted though she’d done no more than get on a train. And off it again.

He turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. With relaxed care, he drove through the city streets, steered the car to his home. Anne barely noticed the passing shops and houses. Mild euphoria was flooding her system, not only because she’d made it all the way from her home to his, but because –

Because Scott was everything she’d thought he would be. For months now, he’d been a quiet encouragement there in the background, talking her through without forcing expectations on her. Being in his presence was more than she could have dreamed. She felt a calm she never would have guessed possible.

“Here we go,” he said as he turned into a gated car park at the foot of a rectangular building. Scott parked the car, pulled up the hand brake, took the keys from the ignition. She knew all these steps, remembered his soothing voice describing them to her through her headphones as she watched his sweet face on the screen.

He got out, retrieved her bag from the boot, loped around to her side, opened the passenger door. Anne focused on her memories of their rehearsal as she swiveled her legs out, stood in the raw openness of outside air. She tried to make her fingers relax their death grip on her laptop, then left it. She needed the sense of a hold on what was familiar, even as she remembered the video he’d made, commentary filled with quiet humour, of the trip from his parking spot to his apartment door.

Then his warm hand rested with comforting weight on her shoulder. She didn’t need to tell her mind to latch onto the pleasant new sensation.

“I love early autumn,” he said as they walked. “The trees around this little parking lot are particularly beautiful.”

T hey were, their spiny frames still covered with leaves, but the colours changed from summer greens to the warm golds, reds and browns that heralded the coming cold.

The apartment building housed only eight units on two floors. They climbed the steps, Scott unlocked his door. Then they were inside. There was his desk, in a corner of the open plan kitchen-dining-sitting room. She smiled when she recognised the bookshelves she’d seen in the background so many times.

“Well,” he said, and for the first time today there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. “Here we are. Home sweet home.”
He’d tidied, she could see that. They’d sometimes chatted while he cooked dinner, he’d move his laptop to the table facing the kitchen, and she’d drink in greedy glimpses of the place where he lived. She turned to him, words draining away in the sand of her endless gratitude.

“I got the spare room ready for...”

Anne lifted a hand and gently put her forefinger on his lips. She slid her fingertip to the corner of his mouth, absorbing the sensations that were him: the contrast between the rasp of his chin and the smooth softness of his lips. The unique fragrance that was crisp deodorant mellowed by the warmth of his body. The three-dimensional differentness of the familiar two-dimensional image she’d grown to know and love.

“Anne...” Scott closed his eyes, then dropped her tog bag on the floor. He reached for her laptop and she gave it to him, let go of her shield. Two quick strides took him to the table, he laid down the precious machine that had been their link for so long.

Then he was back, at her side. He cupped her face in his hands, stroked her lips with his thumbs before running his fingers through her hair. Anne felt a curious sensation flow through her. As if someone had tamed electricity and poured it over her soul.

Her body came to life inside. A thousand little sparks of awareness whirlpooled, then settled in her belly and sparked heat in her womb. She wrapped her arms around him and he drew her close. It was the most natural thing in the world to lift her chin, tilt up her lips for his kiss.

She’d waited so long for this. Had he also been longing to hold her, through these months of late-night Skype and endless emails?

Anne stopped thinking, speculating, instead let herself drown in the feeling of his hands exploring her back, drifting to her bottom as he softly touched his lips to hers.

He drew back a fraction. “You’re shaking.”

“Yes,” she said, and reconnected with him, memorised the bliss of his gentle kiss.

Again he moved back, though he kept her in his arms. “Anne. I’ve been...” He stopped, closed his eyes, then opened them again to look at her. “There’s such a lot I want to do, to feel, but I don’t want to rush you. I don’t want to lose control.”

She smiled, stepped out of his embrace.

“Thanks,” he said and pushed a hand through his hair. “I am after all just a man, and you’re a very... oh my God.”

Anne lifted her jumper over her head, the light pink one she’d fantasised he would take off her. She’d grasped the tank top she wore underneath as well, so that now she stood before Scott clad in blue jeans, earrings, and a white cotton bra.
He stared at her for a few moments, his mouth half-open, eyes wide. “Anne,” he said, cleared his throat, then closed the space between them and wrapped her in his arms. He pressed his lips to hers, pressed her body against his with his hands as if he wanted to experience everything about her at once.

Anne found herself pulling his shirt from his jeans with feverish haste. They’d waited too long, too long, then her hands connected with warm skin and she groaned her pleasure at the sensation. Scott worked his fingers around to her belt buckle without breaking their kiss. She explored the firm muscles of his back as he undid her belt, the button at her fly.
It felt as if her whole body’s attention turned to her pelvis. Her skin was wakened to intense awareness of the tiniest brush of cloth, of fingers. Her panties were soaked. She wanted him, needed him inside her, to fill her and calm her burning need.
Scott knelt as he pushed her jeans down, carefully helped her step from them one foot after the other. Then he put his hands on her arse, and she looked down on his dark brown curls as he kissed her through her panties. Kissed her again. Pulled her panties down, just far enough to let his tongue explore the dark pink folds of wet, slick skin.

She was glad for his hand moving to her lower back, supporting her, because her legs felt weak and she was sure she’d have collapsed if he hadn’t held her. But he did, strong, sure grip as he robbed her of strength, of will, and awareness of everything but his soft, warm tongue.

“Scott,” she said, surprised she managed to make a sound. “Please.”

“Hmmm?”

“Please. Please, oh, dear sweet God!”

He held her tight against him when her knees buckled, when the pleasure inside her exploded in a showering starburst of colour and liquid light. It pulsed through her with every lick, every soft suckle to her clit, until he sensed her peak had passed.

Scott came to his feet then, only to scoop her into his arms and take a purposeful step before hesitating a moment.

Anne saw his frown. “What?”

“I got the guest bed ready for you. Brand new sheets.”

“We can’t waste brand new sheets.”

“It’s a single. I’ll get new sheets for my bed later, but I’ll be damned if you’re sleeping alone tonight.”

She smiled at the determined look that settled on his face as he turned and headed for the other door.

His bedroom was spare, the main decoration even more bookshelves groaning under the weight of many tomes. Anne hardly noticed. All she felt was the relative cool of his duvet against her burning skin when he laid her down on his bed. Anne sat up straight away to watch him toe off his trainers and kick them away. She undid his belt buckle just as he reached for it. He took over to push the brass button through the stiff buttonhole, then Anne slid his jeans down. He kicked them aside and she swallowed down her sudden nerves, her eyes riveted on his tented boxers.

“Um,” she said, “I don’t have... do you...”

Scott nodded, looking very serious. He opened the drawer of his bedside table and took out a small box. Anne watched, giggles rising, as he struggled to take off the plastic wrapping. At last the laughter conquered. Scott glanced at her, frowning, then grinned. “This was not really part of the plan. I should have practiced or something. Ha!” He managed to tear the wrapping off and opened the box.

“Maybe I should do this part.”

He handed her the condom, relieved. Anne hesitated a moment, trying to remember when last she’d opened one of these foil packets. Who knew? Who cared? It was easy enough, and she soon had the condom pinched between thumb and forefinger. With a shy grin, egged on by the building pressure in her womb, she hooked a finger over the waist of his boxers and tugged it down.

Anne bit back an ‘oh my God’. She glanced up at Scott. “Er...”

“Too much?”

“No. Oh, no. But I don’t know how to get one of these on.”

“I Googled it.”

“You—” Anne closed her eyes, opened them again, laughter warring with arousal in her mind. He’d been thinking about this, fantasising about her as much as she’d fantasised about him.

“Look, Anne, I hope this doesn’t come across wrong. I thought a long time before I got the condoms, because on the one hand I didn’t want to push you into anything, on the other hand, I just wanted to be realistic, you know.”

“What? No, Scott, it’s fine.” She chuckled. “I’ll let you in on a secret. I—I have a packet of condoms in my handbag.”

“Oh, God, Anne.” Scott took the condom from her, the frown crept back over his forehead. He stretched the rubber, blew carefully into the tip, then rolled it over his hard, erect cock. As soon as the sheath was on, he knelt on the bed with her, put a hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back.

Anne lay down, watched as he knelt between her knees. He put his hands on her thighs, slid his palms up over her belly, over her breasts, her shoulders, down her arms before resting them either side of her shoulders. The tip of his cock touched her clit, rubbed gently to and fro. Anne tilted her hips, licked her lips. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, his cock slipped down, to her entrance, and pushed slowly inside.

“Oh, God,” she groaned.

“Am I hurting you?”

“No! No, don’t you dare pull back like that. I want you, Scott. Please. Please, just—”

He pressed forward and Anne bit her lip, tried to process the feeling of him stretching her open, entering her in a welcome invasion. More and more he became part of her body, touched her soul, until he lay on top of her with his whole cock wrapped in her flesh. Anne clung to him, breath racing, felt the shivery touch of air as he exhaled against her neck. “Okay?”

“Oh, more than okay. More than okay, sweet Scott.”

“God, Anne, you’re making all my dreams come true. All of them.” With that, he moved inside her, sparking a cascade of pleasure. Again, slowly, he pushed in, withdrew, his eyes fixed on her face. Anne wrapped her legs around his hips, lost herself in the sweet pleasure building in her body with his every touch.

Tension coiled in her, tightened, suffused her flesh around his cock until at last she felt herself cross that point of no return. For a breathless moment, it was as if everything in her, around her, stopped. Anne closed her eyes. Then pleasure crashed through her like ripples through a pond, gathering with every contraction of her muscles around him, splashing through her veins with every release. He cried out, said something, but Anne didn’t register the words, just thrust her hips up towards him, eager to have everything she could of his body, his being.

Her eyes flew open when a new sensation joined the orchestra of joy in her veins. She watched the expression on Scott’s face as she felt the pulse of his release inside her. It triggered rhythmic waves of ecstasy in her own body anew, a new plane of satisfaction they reached together.

When the earth decided to return to normal spinning speed, Scott was collapsed over her, his gasps for breath matching her own. He rolled over, pulled her with him, and she felt bereft when his cock slipped from her body.

He brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead, then kissed where his fingers had rested moments earlier. “Thank you, sweet Anne.”

“No, thank you, sweet Scott.”

He laughed softly, drew her closer to him. “I can cook for us, we can eat here tonight.”

She breathed in the scent of him, tried to memorise every nuance. “No. Let’s not eat in. Let’s go out tonight.”

“Think it’s wise? You achieved a lot today. Maybe it’s not a great idea to push too hard.” He stroked her back with a light brush of his fingertips. “I want you to remember today as a triumph. I don’t want to take the chance it might end on a low note.”

Anne nodded. “Okay.”

“Lunch out somewhere tomorrow?”

She smiled. “Breakfast.”

“As you wish.” He kissed the top of her head, and pulled her close.

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