Touch

Chapter 10

            I had walked circles in my room after mom had informed me Mr. Evanson was eating lunch with us.  She had thought that my anxiety had been about cleaning everything up after she barked at me to do so but no, no, it was far from that.  A criminal walking up to a guillotine was exactly what I had felt like.  At the moment of committing my crimes, I had been ready to take on all consequences like a twisted martyr, but as I had approached my punishment, sheer terror overwhelmed me.  There had not even been one chance to redeem myself.  Everything had become ground in stone.

            I had constantly chanted and chided myself not to touch Mr. Evanson.  Not even a hug.  The fate was inevitable, but at least I had to keep it from becoming worst.

            I had jumped when my mother had called me in for food.  I had no time to prepare!  I had guessed that even a century wouldn't have been enough time.  I had taken a deep breath and had marched to the dinner table, where I had to sit by Mr. Evanson.  Every minute that had passed cranked up the tension in my muscles.  I had been so close to him that I could smell him.  He had a delicious scent of musk and other scents I could not think of at that moment.  Normally I had never been able to pick up scents as strong as in that moment.  Maybe that had been why I had been so memorized by one sense.  It had been so overwhelming I had been unable to notice the taste of the food.

            Eventually I couldn't take the close contact and had to leave.  I had made some silly excuse that I needed to work on a report that did not exist and had gone to my room to shiver in fright.  However, the door had opened shortly after I had closed it.  My heart had threatened to attack itself when I saw Mr. Evanson, standing tall and somber in the doorway.

            One would have probably asked me, would I have taken back everything I had done?  Truthfully, I would have replied "no."  I would have not taken back the feeling of his hands on me, the heat of his skin, the breaths he made.  I would have not given any of that up to stay in the corner and wonder what it would have been like.  Even when the blade of the guillotine touched my throat, I would not have taken it back at all.

            "I want to talk," Mr. Evanson had sternly stated.

            "Okay," I had mumbled.  I had become completely submissive to Mr. Evanson.

            I had taken a chair from the corner of my room and sat it behind Mr. Evanson.  He had sat down, his legs slightly overlapped at the ankle.  My eyes had traveled up his thighs to the-

            No!  No!  No!  I had chided myself.  Those nasty ideas had gotten me in trouble the first place.  I had taken my own seat and had tightly held my legs together to force myself into abstinence. 

            “I wanted to tell you I am not mad, but this should stop,” Mr. Evanson had stated.

            My heart had crumbled, yet had also become filled with emotions to the point of bursting.

            “But…but I love you,” I had declared, my mind no longer in control of my lips.

            He had stiffened in surprise, but had composed himself quickly to inform me, “Caden, you are so young, you have yet to even know what love is."

            “I know enough,” I had retorted.  At that moment, I had felt like a child being demeaned by a higher adult.

            Mr. Evanson had groaned and had attempted to tell me, “You're nineteen, act nineteen.  There are so many people out there that you have yet to-”

            My capacity for control had ended at that moment.  He had thought I was nothing more than the child he used to babysit!  I had needed him to see what I was.  Vapidly I had informed Mr. Evanson.  “Do you think that everything turned out fine at that new school?  They were just as mean as the kids before.  It wasn’t until I was sixteen.  Then it finally happened.  Friends only appeared after that.  You were the only person who was truly kind to me!” 

            “Caden, please, I am old, you are young,” wearily he had bemoaned. 

            “You never turned me away because of my looks,” I had cooed to him so sweetly.  “Don’t you think you should reap it now that it is beautiful?  You, Mr. Evanson, are very attractive yourself.”

            I had walked to him and wrapped my arms around my broad shoulder.  I had breathed into his ear with a simple plea, “Just let me love you.”

            However, had had still fought.  Something, some principle, had been preventing him from agreeing with me.  "This isn't right-"

            "It is!"  I had interjected him.  The passion that I had held for him for years had added strength to my words.  "I've waited for this and it has never felt so right.  How can you not possible feel the same?"

            He had sighed.  At that very moment, he had relinquished whatever moral that had been keeping him.  “Very well.”

 

            Now I am here, in Mr. Evanson bed, enjoying the afterglow of sex.  He lies beside me, staring at the opposite wall.  Today is Friday, a very good day.  The reason?  I will have nothing to do for the rest of the day or tomorrow, meaning I can become as exhausted as I wanted with Mr. Evanson.  I do not think that my want for him is the reason why the sex is better than any I had before.  Mr. Evanson has everything: experience, endurance, and of course a thick girth.  My fucks that had been close to my age usually came and went, but with Mr. Evanson, I can't even count how many time he has me shiver for release and he doesn't even try.  His foreplay, I would say, is his forte.  Every part of my body feels exposed to his touches.  It lasts for what seems like forever and by the time he penetrates me I am practically ready to spill.  Oh, everything is his forte.  He knows how hard, fast, and even what angle.  He is perfect.  His name is even perfect for calling out.

            I pull myself closer to him, relishing his body temperature. 

            "That was wonderful," I whisper. 

            I know he feels guilt.  Maybe it is the age gape, or the relationship we had before.  However, I know he will slowly come to accept and see how beautiful this is.  How can he not?

            I quickly kiss his back before the drowsiness takes me over.

A/N

Lisa: Thank you for the Christmas wishes :)  I hope you had a pleasant holiday, even though it was around four months ago.