Chapter Sixteen -- Taking Down Laundry 

It was a week since Sid and I went into the garden together. Since then, I'd gone alone every morning. 

In the afternoons, I'd spend my time with Sid or at the piano in the family room downstairs, trying to compose.

Although on the outside Sid seemed better, he was reflective and subdued. Making love was quiet and slow, so unlike our passionate encounters before. He insisted I go to work at the flower shop last week, but I wouldn't. 

I didn't want to leave him. 

In the late afternoon, we'd take long walks  in the woods. We'd hold hands and listen to twigs snap beneath our feet and sit by the pond and reflect.

I struggled to go to a few band practices, going through the motions. I played with the band on Friday and last night. Sid watched, sipping his Coke, chatting with Lynn and Alan, but he didn't grab me under the table once-- and I even wore my black leather.

It was Sunday and still no sign of Shackleton. The man haunted me even as I slept. Trent's contacts at the Community told him he was still tucked away in Chicago, but I still expected him to be around every corner, behind every tree. His memory was like a vulture picking at my brain. 

I know the thought of him haunted Sid, too. I tried getting him to talk to me. What a role reversal. Sid was usually the one trying to get me to open up. Now I was trying to pry open his door. I thought he was more confused than I was about how why he felt so melancholy. Sid was locked away tight, and it frightened me.

Glenda said it happens this way when one becomes bound to the other, and one is mortal. The feeling smothers. 

I'd been downstairs, tinkering on the piano for about an hour. I'd played the same few bars over and over-- inspiration and concentration both failing me. I stood up and slid the piano bench in, deciding to go upstairs to talk to Sid. 

As I neared our room, I heard Les and Sid talking. Instead of walking in, I stood outside the door. I felt sort of dirty eavesdropping, but I was much too curious to walk away and not know what was being said. Maybe Sid might open up to Les. 

"... as Deal is to me and always will be," Sid said quietly.

"Yes, he's a friend of your family. I understand that."

"No, you don't. He was more than a friend to me at one time. He was my lover-- my first."

"Oh."

"I loved him. I was young. But it was one-sided. It's just, I wonder now, with Wes, is this some sort of pattern for me switching one immortal for another? Am I attracted to Wes for himself or what he is?"

"You were attracted to him long before any of this from what Alan told me, but I can't answer that one for you. That's a question you have to answer for yourself..."

I felt sick. Physically ill. Why hadn't he told me about Deal? Or how he was feeling about me?

"I know I love him. I need him. This is all such a mess. And Wes blames himself for everything that's happened. He's so intense. He worries over my every ache. He watches me constantly-- like I'll disappear. Hovering over me like I'm gonna be dead tomorrow. When he goes down to the garden, I'd like to go with him, but he gets so uptight. He's barely smiled or cracked a joke all week. That's not like him. The only time I've seen him semi-relaxed was playing in the band the past two nights. He doesn't even relax when we make love."

"Yeah, even on stage last night he wasn't the same. Smith asked what was wrong with him. But you've got to realize, Sid, he's going through a lot of chemical changes in his body, not just mental-- and right now, so are you. It's fucking with both of your minds-- no wonder it's messing with your hearts. He has a real reason to be afraid for you. Then there's the sex. I'm convinced that there is something chemical there going on too. I've read my parents notes on it. "

"Don't I know," said Sid. "After this last time in the garden, I felt what it was like for Wes fucking me. It's overwhelming. I felt like I was going to break in two I wanted him so bad."

I turned walked quietly back down the stairs. I had a lot to think about. I went out to the garden again.

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Glenda was preparing Sunday dinner in the kitchen when I came back. She'd just finished chopping carrots and started cleaning broccoli. 

"Need a hand?" I asked.

"Not here, but you could be a dear and bring in the laundry off the line for me? The basket's in the breeze way."

"Sure, I'd be glad to," I said. She was smart not to let me around the kitchen. And since I could fold a mean t-shirt, I nodded and headed out to get the basket. Besides, it was the least I could do-- she'd washed Sid's and my laundry. I picked up the old wicker laundry basket and let the old wooden screen door snap behind me. 

She had remnants of clothes line left in the basket. Must be she had to put up more to accommodate us. I laid them over the side of the basket and pulled off the sheets first and folded them. Then a few of Les' shirts and Glenda's house dresses. Must be Uncle Daniel used the drycleaners. Nothing for him on the line. Lastly I took off Sid's and my laundry and folded them. 

I chuckled thinking about what Glenda thought of Sid red underwear. I went back into the house and picked up our laundry off the top-- then I had this epiphany. So I've lost my sense of humor? I worry too much? Well, I'd show Sid. 

The blue paisley house dress looked about the right size and that bit of clothesline would work. Nothing like a bit of role playing to liven up your love life. Move over black leather, hello lonely pioneer woman and rascally outlaw. I skirted around Sid and Les, who were talking in the living room.

"Putting away our laundry," I explained, brushing past them. Just before I went out of the room I turned and said, "Meet me upstairs in a few minutes-- I'd like to talk to you." Then I winked and smiled for good measure. Sid gave me a dopey quizzical look, and Les raised his eyebrow. Then I bounded down the hallway and into the anteroom and up the stairs. 

I put our clothes on the dresser and stripped. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Taking Glenda's house dress probably wasn't the brightest. Still, it's not the kind of thing you'd ask permission about: 

Me: Hey, I want to have kinky sex games with my boyfriend-- would it be ok if I borrowed this dress? 

Glenda: You not a size seven are you? Sure!

I pulled the thin cotton over my head. The dress zipped up the back. How do women fucking do it? Hook their bras, pull up a zipper up that starts at the ass-crack and runs clear up to the crook on their neck? Are they contortionists? 

I looked in the mirror and laughed. Since I had no waist or tits, it wasn't a big deal-- just hike up the back and then zip. I was pretty flexible. I didn't fill it out at all like Glenda, but the blue and violet in the paisleys did bring out that winkle in my eyes. The question was-- did I look like a lonely pioneer woman? Too bad no bonnet. Hmm, I pinched my cheeks.

That helped. I picked up my boxers.

I could do a Sharon Stone-- part my legs. Sid could snatch a free shot. My dick jerked alive. Yeah, no underwear for this little tryst. I decided to let my boys breath. 

I knew I needed to get into my role- psyche myself up. Little House on the Prairie style-- Shit, I lost my erection. Thinking of Melissa Gilbert as Laura Ingalls Wilder made me lose my stiffy. Same would probably would happen to most guys, I frowned. 

Now what's my motivation? 

Hmm, maybe Sid's body, Sid's mouth, Sid's cock fucking me silly? Oh, yeah-- that worked. The color was back in my cheeks again.

Now, to tie myself up. That was tricky. Damn plastic cheap clothesline. Not really rustic or frontier like at all. Have to use our imagination and pretend it's horse hair. I used my teeth to get the clothes line around my wrists and then looped it through to pull the square knot tight. Looked pretty convincing. Now to get into the bed. I sprawled out, trying to look the part. Put myself into character. Appear helpless, vulnerable. I practiced whimpering.  

Not convincing.

I examined the head board. Now, if I looped my hand back over one of the bedposts that might work. The frame where it was attached was about three to three and a half feet high where my hands would stop and catch. I giggled. Standing up on the bed, I put my back against the poster and looped my hands backward over the top of the bedpost. Then I sat down. 

Big mistake. 

I misjudged the height of the headboard. It definitely was a few inches up higher than I expected-- or my arms were a few inches shorter. But this wasn't about comfort. I struggled to get my legs out in front of me. Hmm, seeing me straining bound to the bedpost would lend to the drama of the moment. Yeah, make Sid hot. 

Take me you, fiendish outlaw!

The door--

The brass door knob turned. The door creaked open. I held my breath. Fuck! Les walked in.

Sid stood behind him. A stunned embarrassing silence then... 

Hysterics.

"Stop laughing!" I yelled, pulling against the cords on my hands. I sputtered and moaned. 

Dang, I messed this one up. Maybe I should have made it clear I wanted to talk to Sid-- alone.

"I think I'm gonna piss my pants," Sid said, slapping Les' back.

"I think I'd better leave..." Les barked.

"No shit!" I said.

Les jabbed Sid then walked out the door. Then poking his head around the corner, he added, "Gosh you're pretty!" 

Then door banged shut. I heard Les out in the hallway cackling.

"So, what's this about?" Sid asked, wiping his tears. "A reaction to your overhearing the  conversation Les and I had?"

"Well, yes, I guess partly... " I stammered.

"You do look cute. Nice dress. Color brings out your eyes."

"This wasn't the reaction I was hoping for... " I whined. "I'm sorry I listened, but why didn't you just tell me those things yourself?"

"We weren't sure you were listening until you went down the stairs," he explained, grinning wider. "And I don't ask you about your past sex life although looking at you now, maybe I should have."

I felt myself blushing and getting hard again. Sid's eyes fell on my crotch-- Tent City in my matronly house dress. 

"That's exactly why I love you," Sid laughed.

"Why? Because of my ability to get hard in difficult situations?"

"No, because you'd put on that dress for me," he said, walking over to the bed, fingering the clothes-line. "How did you manage to tie yourself up like that?"

"God, with my mouth and tongue. Want me to show you? They're pretty agile. I'd like to  put them to good use again-- they're all warmed up and ready."

"You sure are a lonely pioneer woman. But you could have let me tie you up..."

"Yeah, but that wasn't the effect I was shooting for," I explained, as he leaned over close to my face. "I didn't think that just seeing me in the dress would do it for you."

Sid laughed, then bent into me, kissing my mouth, opening up to him wide. I whirled my tongue deep inside his mouth. He pulled back, breathing hard.

"You're right about that."

He sat next to me on the bed, sinking the mattress down more and pulling the cords taunt on my wrists. I winced. 

"Too tight? Should I loosen them a little, dear?" he asked.

"No, they're fine. Thank you, sir." 

"This dress is too distracting," he said, fingering the neck. "Nice... cotton blend?"

"Yes, I think."

"Material is light, thin," he said, then with a sudden violent jerk, ripped open the dress at the neck to the waist. Then with one more jerk, ripped the dress rest of the way off, exposing my chest, crotch and thighs. 

"Hey, you ruined Glenda's dress!" I cried.

Sid hunkered back and rubbed his hands together in mock anticipation. 

"It's old. We'll buy her another." 

His half grin grew wider still at he saw my cock jerk up, thrilled. He enjoyed himself thoroughly as he inched his hand. He teased and grasped me, then bending his head down, he took one long lick on the end of my glistening dick, then looked up at me. 

"I didn't actually b-borrow this dress..." I stuttered.

"Somehow, I figured that one out for myself," he said, spreading the thin cotton dress apart and pushing it back up to my shoulders. I moaned as his warm mouth closed over my left nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue. He pinched the other, and I yelped.

"Are you going to ravage and burn my crops, too?" I asked hopefully.

"Yeah, sure... give me a moment."

He stood up and stripped off his jeans and t-shirt. 

"Oh, God," I moaned, admiring his swollen cock as he pushed down his underwear. "It's so big. You aren't going to make me suck that are you?" 

"You're too good at this." 

He climbed back on the bed on his knees and straddling me, bouncing his cock near my mouth. 

"Open up those beautiful lips, sweetie," he said, voice hoarse. I mustered the most wonton look possible and gazed up into his yes. I opened my mouth achingly slow and took him into my lips, gulping him in as far I could. His hands kneaded and tugged my hair, and his hips lurched forward. Just the reaction I was hoping for. His cock rubbed fluidly in and out of my mouth, I tried hard not to catch him with my teeth as the friction increased. The cords bit into my wrists, but I hardly noticed. His cock was all I wanted, tasting him only made me harder and hotter. 

His hands pushed my face deeper into his crotch. I loved it because he loved it. I could tell he was close to coming-- his thigh muscles tightened. 

He jerked himself out of my mouth with a gasp.

"Shit, I'm going to shoot off right away if we don't stop," he said breathing hard. "I need to slow down." 

What he really meant was, I'm not through with you-- I have to stop so I can tease you more. I knew what I was in for when I hooked my wrists around the bedpost-- that was kind of the point-- to see how far he'd tease me. To give him permission to let go. 

Of course I wanted to let go just as much.

He reached under the pillow for the Concepterol (Sid's handy-dandy hiding place for expediency), and he smiled wickedly at me. My heart raced and pulse pounded in my temples. God this was delicious. 

"Crimony! Do that again with your eyes," he blurted. "Your pupils are still so wide-- they're screaming fuck me."

"How 'bout my legs open wide. See, they're screaming fuck me, too. And here lookie-- I'll spread them for you. Or how 'bout my lips, yeah, read my lips; they're screaming, too-- Oh, fuck me, fuck me."

He unscrewed the cap and squeezed some on his fingers. 

"You floozy. You're no lonely frontier woman-- you're really a saloon trollop." 

"No, I'm just lonely. You don't know what it's like with only sagebrush and chickens to keep you company-- my only excitement is riding my pony at a trot-- the saddle my only friend... " my last word stuck. He shoved his fingers inside me. 

"Thought that'd get your attention, mam. Ain't that better than a cold hard saddle?" 

My insides hitched and my knees curled up as his fingers explored me. I was whimpering and squirming as he caressed and stimulated my prostate. Sid's breathing was labored watching me. God this was great.

"Thank you," I choked out. "Such kindness..." The chords pulled on my wrists, the memory of the thorns beneath biting into me. 

Sid grasped my cock and stroked it slowly rolling his thumb across my glans. Sweat was pouring off me. Glenda's dress and the sheets were drenched, and my body slipped down farther into the bed, cutting the cords deeper into my wrists. If my dick hadn't have been doing all my thinking for me at that moment, I might have stopped him myself, but I was too close to a spectacular orgasm to really give a shit. Besides, my arms had fallen asleep awhile ago.

Then he noticed. 

And stopped.

"Shit, you're bleeding," he said. 

I honestly felt bad to see him panicked. First he scooped me up, then he knelt next to me near the headboard and began carefully untying the knot on my wrists. 

"Damn this is tight," he said. I watched him above me, using his teeth to loosen it. 

"Tied with my teeth. Told you I had a talented mouth," I teased. The clothes-line came free, and I felt the release, my arms flopping uselessly down to my sides. The cords had cut into me, but it wasn't that bad. Not as bad as the look I got from Sid's face as he stared at them.

"I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't," I said quietly. I tried to reach for his face. First try, my arm wouldn't respond, second try, it jerked up to his cheek. I tested my finger by brushing it under his eye. "See," I whispered, "just fine. Now, finish what you started. Fuck me."  

I managed to pick up the lube with my other hand. 

"I'll help you," I said, motioning for him to slide down beside me. "Give me your dick." 

He scooted down into the mattress next to me. 

"I love you," he said, kissing me. Fuck, he sucked on my tongue. He knew that always made me hot. My cock twitched. His nose twitched back. I giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked. 

"You and your cute nose... "

"Huh?"

I squirted the lube into my hands and found his dick. He gasped.

"Hmm, I think the rugged outlaw's gun needs firing. What do you think? Ready for some target practice?" I asked.

"What about shooting beer bottles off stumps?" he joked.

"Um, well, while that feat could put you into the Guinness Book of World Records, I much rather you put your special talents to use another way. Say, like fucking a lonely pioneer woman up the ass?"

He nodded. 

I spread my legs, and he rolled on top of me. 

"Ok lady, here I come," he groaned. 

That's what I'd been waiting for since the door knob turned.

He gently pushed his cock inside me-- slow and easy. The pressure and heat built up, burning my chest and lungs. I gasped. My arms found his ass and pushed him in farther. I bit his neck and then kissed his jaw-line. I felt his balls. 

"I want you, always," I whispered into his ear. He moved inside me. Slowly. slowly. Back arching, hips pumping in largo. Each thrust was a musical phrase, and he slurred my notes. 

He chest heaved as our mouths met. And as our tongues danced in time, Sid began to increase his tempo, and I felt him reach for my cock, and I moaned into his mouth. I loved tasting his cock and having him taste mine. I loved fucking Sid. And I loved feeling his cock rubbing against mine, but this was what I loved most. Feeling him inside me, rocking into me, and that practiced hand working my cock like some great conductor. 

The blood pumped from heart to my groin, as Sid lead this huge crescendo. I was coming-- I raised my knees and hugged him tight to me, wrapping my arms around him. I cried out, my come spilling sticky over his hand and onto my belly. Sid trembled and tensed his ass and thighs, then relaxed, spent. The end-- Fine.

We held each other and nodded off. And before I fell asleep, I wondered again for the millionth time this week, if I could find a way to make Sid immortal like me.

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We took our after dinner walk as usual-- Sid and I explored the great outdoors of southwestern Michigan. Past the gardens, into the old oaks, elms and huge sassafras trees. Through the umbrella of the hardwoods, where the sun dips and dapples the plush carpet-thick moss and foliage below. We took our time walking down the hill, following a farmer's old fieldstone wall-- a long forgotten property marker. From the top of the forest hill, we saw the small pond we'd adopted. It's marshy, with fuzzy cattails and lavender liatris invading the edges. Perfect and serene. We sat on a old rotting log near its edge and watched the day recede. Feeling the stones grow cold next to the pond and watching the shadows deepen, we listened to bullfrogs and the crickets sing. We waited for the first fireflies to come out and dance. 

We shooed away mosquitoes, watching an old painted turtle sun himself with the last beams of the day. Out here, we could both think and not hurry. If we wanted a slow leisurely kiss, Sid and I reclined on the cushy old moss. 

And we did. Soft sweet lips and wind whisping through the ancient oak above. Fingers ran smooth in his sandy hair, and I inhaled the dank smell of insect repellant on his neck. I raised my head as I heard a branch snap. 

We sat up from the mossy bed and watched a doe, her white tail bouncing up and down past us then into the brush. 

Then I heard crunching leaves over the crest of the hill. 

"I think we better get back," Sid whispered, cautiously. He heard it, too. Crunching of leaves and twigs. I thought it was behind us over the crest of the hill and now I wasn't as sure. I saw movement in the brush where the doe appeared. Not a deer this time. Too loud. Probably what startled her. We both got up and started away from the noise and around the pond when we heard Trent's voice. 

"You shouldn't be out this far," he commented, stepping out in the open. I felt like kissing him-- I was so relieved.  

We walked toward him.

"Scared me for a moment there," I said. Then I noticed Trent looking up at the crest of the hill. My eyes followed his. Shackleton stood with two other men, one with semi-automatic rifle pointed with Sid in his sights-- the other with some sort of video camera. Shackleton started down the hill. 

I heard myself yell 'no' as lunged to get between Sid and shooter. I heard the shot, and the impact threw me sideways into Sid. I stumbled grabbing Sid to pull him behind me, trying to shield him when the second shot ripped open my shoulder and hit  Sid in the chest. His shirt ripped from my hands as he flew back. The crack of the back of his head hitting a rock echoed in the silent wood. 

I fell down to my knees beside him, and cradled his head in my lap. He grasped my right hand tightly. 

It was that projector in my mind-- what I couldn't remember. Every bit I'd forgotten, I now recalled. The accident, the hospital. This second shock brought it back to me.

Panic and doubt ate me. There I was crying, the back of Sid's head sticky in my hand. Afraid I couldn't do it. I looked up to Trent-- his face etched with guilt. 

He'd failed. 

"Wes, I'm cold," he said, coughing. Blood. He'd coughed up blood. "Cold," he said again. I lay down, hugging him to me, sobbing into his hair. 

Can you save him?

His blood warmed my chest, and brushing his face with my hands, I prayed for guidance: how was I supposed to heal him? So much blood-- part of it mine. I tasted metal in my mouth. I pressed my forehead into his and begged for some great splendid light to show me the way out of all this. 

"Show me now," I begged. Laying on hands as if I were a healer in some old time revival. False healer. Please don't let me be false. I opened his shirt, and I saw the cavity--  the bone and the blood; how could I heal this? I laid my hand on the gaping wound and asked-- no, pleaded with myself. Please work. Please heal.

I could hear them all near me. The camera humming, shallow breathing. Ticking. All watching, waiting. 

Sid coughed again, spattering my face with droplets of blood. 

My hand shook violently as I pressed it tighter to the wound. The other held Sid's hand tight. 

"Heal," I whispered. "Heal, heal, heal." Then, "Oh God," my heart pounded in my eardrums-- his grip loosened. No warm squeezing return of my hand. His eyes-- the light was leaving them. I let go of his hand and pressed his chest into mine. Clutching his back, blood soaking me. 

"No," I cried. "I won't let you go." I closed my eyes, reaching into that black pit to find those bright sparks inside. Remembering what it was like to feel him inside me, making love to me. I had to find that. 

"I love you..." I choked.

The spiral and lights. Hard and soft. Loud and clean-- pure light. I heard and felt him. "Please," I said. "Please." And I took it into me. Dizzy, like I was falling. But no, I was still kneeling, searching his eyes.

His back was smooth against my hand. 

Can you save him?

He gasped. 

Sobbing, I watched his eyes lids flutter, pupils widen.

I kissed his forehead and rocked him in my arms. Wiped the blood from his chest. No wound remained.

"How touching," Shackleton rasped. 

I broke away from the joy and pain, meeting Shackleton's eyes as he stood above us. The red angry scars on his face and neck were hideous reminders that he was slowly falling to pieces-- that he needed to steal my blood to be whole. Trent stood next to him. He did nothing.  Shackleton reached out to shake Trent's hand, and Trent pulled his back in disgust. 

"What? No handshake to seal our deal, Trent?"

"Deal?" I choked.

"You don't  think we could have gotten to you this easily without Trent's help?" 

"What the fuck is he saying Trent?" I rasped.

"I told you from the very beginning. I take orders. The Community needs what Shackleton knows, and they need what you have. He can make the serum from your blood. They want it. First we had to be sure that you were the one."

"Fuck you," I cried.

"I'm sorry. Better the Community than Shackleton alone. Sid will be safe now. We'll leave him here with your aunt and uncle. He'll be fine as long as you come quietly with us."

"Could you turn off that fucking video camera?"

Trent nodded. The camera clicked off. 

"Film captures so many treasured memories," said Shackleton. He took the semi-automatic from the sniper. A sadistic smile played on his lips as he looked down at Sid. "He's very attractive. I can see why you enjoy his company so much. And his touch makes you scream out, doesn't it Wes? Makes me wonder, what it'd be like--"

"Stop that Shackleton, that's enough," said Trent, stepping closer to him.

"Now the question is, are you coming or do we kill your boyfriend for good this time?" Shackleton sneered, resting the rifle's muzzle against  Sid's head. 

"Fuck, I'll go with you. You want me to beg? Fine. Please take me. I'll go. But if I do and you do come back here and touch him, I swear, I'll find a way to kill your sorry ass no matter how fucking long it takes."

"That's hardly polite."

"Oh, Suck me," I spit at him.

"That can be arranged," he answered. 

Trent stepped next to me and pulled a syringe from his pocket. The same icy blue stare was in his eyes, and I recalled that first day he stabbed me. Then another shift in those eyes. Pity?

He jabbed the needle into my arm with same piercing look he had when he turned the blade. And then time slipped away.