The Seven Steps to Closure Read Online Free Page B
Author: Donna Joy Usher
lasted until the front door was closed before leaping on him, pinning him to the door with my body and my mouth, while I tried feverishly to undo the buttons of his shirt.
‘Here,’ he grunted, buttons flying everywhere as he ripped it off.
The fabric of my blouse was a little softer and I heard fabric tear as he shredded it from my body. All I could think about was getting as close to him as possible. I had to feel naked skin moving against naked skin or I was going to go nuts. And even then it wasn’t enough. I wanted to get under his skin, eat him up, and tear at him with my nails, all the time pulling him closer and closer until I got what I really wanted.
He took me there against the front door. Lifting me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist, he thrust straight inside me. I remember clutching his hair and calling out his name.
I felt weightless pinned against the door while I tried to pull him deeper and even deeper, until suddenly we both came, me bucking backwards against the door as the waves of my orgasm took me higher and higher.
When the overwhelming sensation had finally subsided, I managed to roll my eyes back to the front of my head and open them. He was watching my face, the remnants of pure lust fading from his. I was wearing my bra, undone at the back, and my skirt was up around my waist. His jeans were lying around his ankles, his boxers caught mid-thigh. His hair had been thoroughly ruffled by me running my hands through it and was standing up on top like a rooster. I don’t think the whole episode lasted more than five minutes.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s one to tell the grandchildren.’
And then he kissed me.
The sound of the phone ringing brought me out of my reverie. I could hear my mother’s voice talking to the answering machine. ‘Tara love. Sorry to hear about Cocky, I know how much he meant to you. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Don’t be late.’
My bath had been totally ruined by the memory of Jake.
Damn it,
I thought as I dried myself off. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I guess for a while I had, in a sick way, enjoyed the moping and crying. It had gotten out of hand though, and been going on too long. Was deciding to move on enough to actually enable you to move on? Was that the catalyst I had been missing: a true desire to say goodbye to depression and self-pity? The letting go of the final tendril of hope? The acknowledgement that there would never ever be anything between Jake and I again?
I certainly hoped so. If it took a
Cosmo
magazine and ‘Seven Easy Steps of Closure’ to get me over the finish line then by God I was going to do it. The hair, the shopping, the dating, the meaningless and the meaningful sex, I suddenly wanted it all. I went to bed that night feeling positive for the first time in a year.
* * *
I was, as usual, late arriving at my parent’s for lunch the next day. My Mum and Dad – Elizabeth and Albert Babcock, better known as Bet and Bert – retired to Umina Beach about 10 years ago. Umina Beach is 60 kilometres north of Sydney, and is only a 75 minute train ride from town. They have a cute little cottage with a big back yard, and are close enough to the beach to hear the waves and smell the salt.
Dad is a keen gardener and spends most of his days out the back with his impressive shed, listening to sports on the radio. He has created an edible garden around the side of the house where he grows their fruit, vegetables and herbs. When you walk out the back you are overwhelmed by the sight and scent of the different types of flowering bushes he has planted. Beautiful camellias, gardenias and rose bushes are predominant. But he has also used native bushes, different types of bottlebrushes, and every morning and night the wild birds flock to the yard to feed. Fantastic red, green and blue plumed lorikeets, gorgeous galahs, and even white cockatoos have been known to drop in to visit.
Choruses of ‘Happy
‘Here,’ he grunted, buttons flying everywhere as he ripped it off.
The fabric of my blouse was a little softer and I heard fabric tear as he shredded it from my body. All I could think about was getting as close to him as possible. I had to feel naked skin moving against naked skin or I was going to go nuts. And even then it wasn’t enough. I wanted to get under his skin, eat him up, and tear at him with my nails, all the time pulling him closer and closer until I got what I really wanted.
He took me there against the front door. Lifting me up so I could wrap my legs around his waist, he thrust straight inside me. I remember clutching his hair and calling out his name.
I felt weightless pinned against the door while I tried to pull him deeper and even deeper, until suddenly we both came, me bucking backwards against the door as the waves of my orgasm took me higher and higher.
When the overwhelming sensation had finally subsided, I managed to roll my eyes back to the front of my head and open them. He was watching my face, the remnants of pure lust fading from his. I was wearing my bra, undone at the back, and my skirt was up around my waist. His jeans were lying around his ankles, his boxers caught mid-thigh. His hair had been thoroughly ruffled by me running my hands through it and was standing up on top like a rooster. I don’t think the whole episode lasted more than five minutes.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘that’s one to tell the grandchildren.’
And then he kissed me.
The sound of the phone ringing brought me out of my reverie. I could hear my mother’s voice talking to the answering machine. ‘Tara love. Sorry to hear about Cocky, I know how much he meant to you. Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. Don’t be late.’
My bath had been totally ruined by the memory of Jake.
Damn it,
I thought as I dried myself off. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I guess for a while I had, in a sick way, enjoyed the moping and crying. It had gotten out of hand though, and been going on too long. Was deciding to move on enough to actually enable you to move on? Was that the catalyst I had been missing: a true desire to say goodbye to depression and self-pity? The letting go of the final tendril of hope? The acknowledgement that there would never ever be anything between Jake and I again?
I certainly hoped so. If it took a
Cosmo
magazine and ‘Seven Easy Steps of Closure’ to get me over the finish line then by God I was going to do it. The hair, the shopping, the dating, the meaningless and the meaningful sex, I suddenly wanted it all. I went to bed that night feeling positive for the first time in a year.
* * *
I was, as usual, late arriving at my parent’s for lunch the next day. My Mum and Dad – Elizabeth and Albert Babcock, better known as Bet and Bert – retired to Umina Beach about 10 years ago. Umina Beach is 60 kilometres north of Sydney, and is only a 75 minute train ride from town. They have a cute little cottage with a big back yard, and are close enough to the beach to hear the waves and smell the salt.
Dad is a keen gardener and spends most of his days out the back with his impressive shed, listening to sports on the radio. He has created an edible garden around the side of the house where he grows their fruit, vegetables and herbs. When you walk out the back you are overwhelmed by the sight and scent of the different types of flowering bushes he has planted. Beautiful camellias, gardenias and rose bushes are predominant. But he has also used native bushes, different types of bottlebrushes, and every morning and night the wild birds flock to the yard to feed. Fantastic red, green and blue plumed lorikeets, gorgeous galahs, and even white cockatoos have been known to drop in to visit.
Choruses of ‘Happy
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