“I can’t come next Thursday,” he said. He’d only been in the flat five minutes. They’d hugged and kissed and told each other how much they’d missed each other over the last seven days. Juliet had taken Max’s hand and led him to the bedroom and now they were sitting on her bed, beginning to undress for sex. Juliet felt cold suddenly, though it was a hot, sticky night.
“What?” she said.
“It’s Georgia’s birthday,” Max told her apologetically. “She’s having a party at the house and I have to be on hand, along with her mother, obviously, to make sure that things go smoothly. I can come on Friday, though,” he added. “I’ll tell Lena that I’ve switched my night doing up the house on Geraldine Street just this once to accommodate Georgia’s birthday.”
“Oh, all right then,” said Juliet, breathing freely again, the knot in her chest dissolving. “That… that should be fine.”
The thought of missing out on seeing Max for even one Thursday night had felt like the end of the world. She lived for the nights when she could see Max. Her job was only something she did to earn enough money to buy food and pay the rent on the flat. She barely knew her neighbours, hardly saw them, even. Her mother, she felt sure, didn’t love her and would never have a kind word to say either to her or about her.
She still considered Karen a good friend whom she called or texted every few days but Karen, with her own fraught and complicated history, would never fully give her blessing to Juliet’s relationship with Max, a married man. The only thing in Juliet’s life that brought her any happiness, that made her feel that her life was worth living, was Max.
“Are you sure that you don’t mind?” he was asking her now. “There’s nothing I can do about it, I’m afraid. I thought that Friday might at least be an acceptable compromise. Is it?” he added with a deliberately wheedling grin.
“I’ll miss you on Thursday, of course I will,” Juliet said, “but if I know that I’m seeing you on the Friday, then it won’t be so bad.”
“Good girl,” Max said softly. “Now get undressed for me.”
Juliet quickly stripped off the sleeveless blouse and short denim skirt she wore. Underneath, she wore neither bra nor panties and she was pleased when she heard Max catch his breath at the sight of her naked body.
“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Kneel up on the bed on all fours for me now, that’s a good girl.” She hastened to comply, loving the way that Max’s natural and easy domination of her sexually made her feel loved and cared for, cherished even.
“Lift up your ass, slut,” he said. Juliet did as she was ordered, excited that she was so exposed, that every part of her, even the parts normally kept hidden and private, were now all stretched and open to Max’s gaze. Behind her, she could hear him undressing. She heard the clink-clunk of his belt-buckle and the rattle of the loose change in his trouser-pockets as he lowered his clothing to the floor and got into position behind her. His cock entered her pussy and began moving in and out. Juliet moaned with pleasure. When his cock was slick with her juices, he pulled it out of her.
“Oh, don’t, please, Max,” she complained. “I was loving that. That was so good. Please don’t stop fucking me, Max, please.”
“I’m not going to,” Max said calmly. Juliet felt her buttocks being spread apart and the tip of Max’s swollen penis pushing into her rectum.
“Oh no, Max, please,” she begged. “You’re going to hurt me.”
“With any luck,” he said with a short laugh. Juliet stayed in position as best she could, her knees apart and her head down, her face almost on the bed-covers, while Max fully entered and then fucked her anus. “Do you like that, slut?” he asked her, slapping her hard on her right hip and pulling on her hair till her head snapped back.
“Yes, Max,” she squealed, wincing at the stinging slaps which were all landing on the same spot on her right hip and making it rapidly grow tender.
“I don’t care if you like it or not, slut,” Max said, his thrusting intensifying. “You’ll take whatever I give you and like it.” Juliet clenched her teeth while trying to relax her buttocks and waited for the penetration of her rectum to be over. When he came, he grunted in satisfaction and eased slowly out of her bottom, wiping his slick prick on the pretty rose-patterned coverlet.
They lay down together for a while then. Juliet snuggled into his bare chest, happy to be close to him, able to touch him and feel him and smell him after a week of deprivation and longing.
“Is your bottom sore?” he asked her. She lowered her eyes shyly and nodded. “Good, “ he grinned.
“When did you lose your virginity?” Max asked her then after they’d shared a post-coital cigarette.
“When… when I was fourteen,” Juliet told him tentatively, praying he wouldn’t think that she was a tramp. “It was to a boy who lived on our street. He was seventeen and he wore an earring and a motorcycle jacket, though he hadn’t actually a motorcycle to go with it. I’d had a crush on him for ages.”
“What a naughty little slut you must have been at that age,” Max said. He sounded admiring, and not at all censorious. “Did he fondle your titties and finger your tight little pussy for you behind the bike-sheds, then?”
“Something like that,” Juliet said uncomfortably.
“Did he hurt you when he fucked you for the first time?” Max said.
“Yes,” Juliet said. “He hurt me a lot.” Max seemed pleased with her answer.
“Have you had many lovers since then?” he quizzed her next. Juliet was silent, squirming next to him in the bed.
“Go on,” prompted Max.
“Promise you won’t be angry?” Juliet begged him nervously.
“Why would I be angry?” Max said, shrugging. “Anything you did before you met me is nothing for me to be judgemental about.”
“Do you still promise, though? Please, Max?” Juliet repeated in urgent tones.
“All right, I promise, if that’s what you want,” laughed Max.
“I don’t know how many,” Juliet said then in a small voice, “but there’s been a… a few.”
“How many is a few?” said Max. “More than ten? I’m just curious, that’s all.” Juliet hesitated, then she nodded. “More than twenty?” he went on, looking at her keenly. She bit her lip and nodded again.
“Should we stop there?” Max said.
“Maybe,” she whispered, adding: “Are you angry with me?” Max shook his head.
“I told you,” he said. “Whatever you did before you met me is none of my business. The only reason I’m asking is because I love you so much that I’m naturally curious about everything to do with you. Besides, I like the idea of you spreading your legs for any guy who asks. It’s exciting.”
“I’m not a whore,” Juliet protested.
“Relax,” Max said. “I’m fine with it. You’re a naughty girl, aren’t you, though?” he went on, stroking her breast lightly. “A naughty, dirty little slut. Who was the last man you slept with before you met me?” He looked at her expectantly. Juliet took a deep breath, then she said:
“I don’t know his name. He was someone I met at a club in Temple Bar.”
“What were you doing on your own at a club in Temple Bar?” Max said, increasing the pressure on her breast.
“I’d been depressed,” Juliet admitted, shame-faced. “It was a few months ago. I’d just broken up with my boyfriend, Cesare.”
“Cesare?” queried Max.
“He worked in Morrissey’s,” Juliet explained. “You know, the bakery where I work? I loved him, or at least I thought I did. But he cheated on me and when I complained about it, he hit me. He hit me and then he… he raped me.”
“Poor Juliet,” Max murmured, drawing her closer and kissing her forehead tenderly. “You’ve certainly been used and abused by guys, haven’t you? But go on with what you were saying about this man you picked up at the club. Did you bring him back here with you to the flat?” Juliet nodded. “What happened?” prompted Max. “What did he do to you? Did he give you a good fucking?” He took her hand and placed it on his flaccid cock.
“Well, you know,” Juliet said reluctantly. “ We… we had sex.”
“Yes, but what kind of sex?” Max urged. “Come on. Did he fuck your cunt, your mouth, your asshole, what? Where did he come, and how many times?”
“In my pussy, twice,” Juliet said, lowering her eyes again and flushing pink with embarrassment.
“Did you enjoy it?” probed Max. He held his hand over hers, making her rub his cock and slowly bring it back to life once more. “Did he make you feel good? Did you come?”
“He was gone when I woke up the next morning,” Juliet told him, flinching at the memory. “He didn’t even leave me his number or any way of getting in contact with him. I felt a bit used, to tell you the truth. I’d actually kind of liked him and… well, I guess I kind of thought that it was going to be the start of something but obviously… Well, obviously it… it wasn’t.”
“But did you enjoy being fucked by him?” Max broke in impatiently. He pushed Juliet’s hand away from his cock and began to masturbate. “Did he fuck you good and hard?”
“Yes,” said Juliet in a small voice, blinking back tears.
“Did he make you sore?” persisted Max, his hand working furiously. “Did he make your pussy good and sore? Did he fuck it till it hurt? Answer me!”
“Yes, he did,” whispered Juliet miserably.
“Sit on my cock,” ordered Max. “Quickly now, before it goes down again. For fuck’s sake, move your arse, woman!” Juliet scrambled hurriedly into a kneeling position astride him and lowered herself down onto his erect penis. Max began immediately to thrust upwards.
“Ride me,” he commanded, reaching up and grabbing hold of her small breasts. She squealed in pain as he squeezed the nipples hard. “Did you enjoy being fucked by that stranger you picked up in the club?” he began again.
Juliet’s heart sank. The man from the club, after being initially complimentary and flirtatious towards Juliet, telling her she was beautiful, had turned out to be a drunken and aggressive asshole. He’d treated Juliet like she was shit on his shoe as soon as they’d reached her flat. The sex had been clinical, cold and unromantic and afterwards she’d done her best to forget about it. Now Max was forcing her to relive it.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I enjoyed it.”
“Speak up,” he said harshly. “Say it. Say that you enjoyed being fucked by him. Say it!”
“I enjoyed being fucked by him,” she said, louder this time.
“Tell me how he fucked you,” Max demanded. She could tell that he was close to his climax.
“He put his cock in my… my pussy and he fucked me,” she said, praying that that would be enough for him. She moaned as he placed the palms of his hands against her breasts and squeezed them. His face was red and bathed in sweat. He bucked and jerked and shot his load upwards into her wet, open vagina. Before he’d discharged the last few drops of his spunk into her, his phone vibrated loudly from Juliet’s bedside table.
“Shit!” he swore, before adding:
“I’d better take this. Stay quiet for a minute, okay?” Putting a finger to his lips, he reached over and picked up the phone. Juliet, still sitting astride him, still filled with his cock and his semen, remained resentfully still while he took the call. He sounded tense and irritable as he muttered a series of ‘yesses’ and ‘okays’ and one or two ‘fucks’ into his phone. He ended the call and sighed heavily.
“That was Lena, obviously,” he said abruptly. “I’m going to have to go. The power’s gone off at the house and she’s having trouble with the fusebox.” He lifted Juliet unceremoniously upwards and off of his cock. Juliet, bitterly disappointed, lay back naked against the pillows and watched him as he dressed.
“I made supper for us,” she complained.
“What can I do?” said Max, shrugging as he buttoned his shirt. “Lena’s hopeless with the electrics. And the plumbing, come to that. I’ll see you next Friday as we planned, and I promise that I’ll call you and text you as often as I can during the week, okay? The sex was great, by the way. Sorry about your poor bottom,” he added with a grin. He didn’t sound remotely sorry.
“I love you, Max,” Juliet told him tearfully.
“I love you too,” he said. “More than I could ever possibly tell you. Promise me you’ll always remember that?” He pulled on his jacket and reached for his keys and phone.
“I promise,” she sniffled, locking her bare arms around his neck eagerly when he bent down to kiss her goodbye.
After he’d left, she padded nude to the kitchen and fetched the wine she’d bought to go with their late supper. Taking a glass out of the cupboard above the sink, she brought both glass and bottle into the bedroom and slammed the door behind her. She poured herself a brimming glass of the wine and took a long thirsty slug, then she sat down on her bed and picked up her phone. Taking a deep breath, she dialled Max’s number and waited nervously for him to pick up.
“What’s up?” he said in surprise when he heard her voice. “Did I leave something behind me?” She could imagine him fumbling in his pockets for his wallet and house keys.
“No, no, you didn’t,” she assured him. “I just thought that we could talk for a minute while you drive home, if that’s okay?”
“Of course we can,” he said easily. “Anything in particular on your mind?”
“Not really,” she said, “but…” She paused.
“Go on, what?” he prompted. “What’s on your mind?”
“I just miss you, that’s all,” she said in a rush. “I wish… I wish that we could see more of each other.” She took a long drink of her wine and hoped that she hadn’t made him angry by overstepping any boundaries. To her relief, he didn’t sound angry.
“So do I,” he said with feeling. “I can’t stop thinking about you. Do you know that I think about you from the moment I wake up in the morning to the minute I fall asleep at the end of every day?”
“Do you really?” said Juliet.
“You’d better believe it,” Max said. “I’m addicted to you. I can’t get enough of you.”
“I feel the same,” she said. “I don’t know how I’m going to be able to wait till the Friday of next week to see you,” she added hopefully. She waited for Max to say that he would try to come over another night before the Friday of next week. Instead he said:
“Me too. I’ll be counting the days.”
Disappointed, Juliet was silent for a while, then Max said:
“I’d like to buy you a gift. Something to wear, maybe. What size are you?”
“Ten,” replied Juliet. “But you don’t have to buy me a gift. I’m happy enough just to be with you. You’re all I want.”
“Ditto,” said Max. “I want to, though. I want to do something nice for you. What about jewellery? Do you like bracelets, necklaces, what?”
“I like all kinds of jewellery,” Juliet said with a laugh. “I’m a woman, aren’t I? There isn’t a woman alive who doesn’t like jewellery. But I don’t expect you to go into a jewellery shop and try to choose something for me all by yourself.”
“I’ll have you know that I’m pretty nifty at choosing jewellery for women,” Max said in mock indignation. “Every year for Lena’s birthday I buy her a new piece of jewellery and she hasn’t complained about anything I’ve chosen for her yet.”
Juliet said nothing. She didn’t want to talk about Lena. She listened to the sounds of Max driving his car for a while. The noise was repetitive but soothing. She felt like she could easily have fallen asleep to it. She drained her wine and poured herself another glass.
“What did you think of the anal sex?” he asked her after a while.
“It was good,” she lied. It had hurt like hell and had felt more like an invasion than an act of love.
“Had you done it before?” said Max.
“Yes,” she admitted. “It always hurt a fair bit. I didn’t like it much. I’ve never been too keen on having anything in my bottom. Anything too big, anyway. I liked doing it with you, though,” she added hastily, fearful of offending him.
“Who did you do it with?” he asked her. Juliet hesitated, then she said:
“I did it with a few men. I can’t remember which ones. I’m sorry. It was a while ago.”
“You’re quite the little slut, aren’t you?” he said then. He didn’t sound displeased, rather the opposite. “Have you ever been fucked by two guys at once? Have you ever had a threesome?”
“No,” replied Juliet uncomfortably. “Listen, Max,” she went on, “I don’t want you thinking I’m… I don’t know, sexually permissive or easy or whatever you want to call it. I know I’ve had a fair few lovers… I mean, boyfriends, but I swear to you that I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary with any of them. I’ve just had normal sex with all of them. Just normal stuff, I swear. Do you believe me?”
“Relax, Juliet,” Max said. He sounded upbeat, cheerful even. “I wouldn’t give you a hard time no matter what you’d done sexually. It turns me on, if you want to know the truth. I like the thought that you’ve had sex with a lot of men. It makes me get hard trying to picture it.”
“It wasn’t really a lot,” said Juliet, confused.
“I told you, sweetheart, it doesn’t matter how many,” said Max. “The more the better, in fact. I’m not like most other men in that respect. I don’t get jealous. I like the thought of you fucking other men. I like the fact that you’re a little bit of a whore. I’ve always wanted a whore for a girlfriend. It’s exciting. Like I told you, it turns me on.”
Juliet noticed that he hadn’t said he liked the idea of having a whore for a wife, only a girlfriend. She wasn’t sure that she liked the idea of his calling her a whore, or of his not getting jealous about her where other men were concerned. She wanted him to love her so much that he was filled with a murderous rage at the thought of another man possessing her. There was the sound of car horns being violently beeped and Max swearing.
“Fucking cunt, cutting me off,” he muttered.
“What you just said about me,” Juliet said uncertainly. “It doesn’t mean that you… that you don’t love me…?” She waited apprehensively for his answer.
“Of course it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, silly,” Max said with a laugh. “If anything, the fact that you’ve had so many lovers just makes me love you and want you even more.” Frightened to contradict his view of her, a view that obviously- inexplicably- afforded him pleasure, she said nothing.
“Listen, can I ask you something?” he said.
“Anything,” Juliet said, happy that he’d said he loved her but wishing that he wouldn’t keep placing so much emphasis on her past sex life and especially wishing that he wouldn’t keep calling her a whore. She wasn’t one, not really. She’d only slept with all of those men in the hopes that one of them would turn out to be the one that would love her and care for her for the rest of her life.
“Would you do anything for me?” he asked her. “I mean, if I asked you to do something for me some day, would you do it, no matter what it was?” Juliet, thinking that they were just talking generally, saying the kinds of things that lovers say to each other, said fervently:
“Of course I would, Max. I’d do anything at all in the world for you, you know that. Are… are we talking about anything in particular?” she added, just in case they weren’t just talking generally. “I mean, is there something you especially want me to do for you? Because I’ll do it, I promise.”
“That’s my good girl,” he said, before adding:
“Maybe some day I might ask you to fuck another man for me. Would you do that?” Juliet bit down hard on her lower lip. Then, reluctant to ruin the loving mood between them, she said quietly:
“Yes, Max. I’d do that for you, if you wanted.”
“And let him finger your pussy, and fondle your tits, and fuck your cunt and asshole?” he said, his breathing sounding like it was becoming shallower.
“Yes, if you wanted me to,” she said, wishing that they could drop the subject now and maybe talk about the possibility of their future together.
“Would you let him come on your tits and face?” he said then. “Come in your mouth, maybe, like I do? Would you let him use you as nothing more than a dirty old cum-bucket?” Juliet flinched.
“Yes, Max,” she forced herself to say. “If that was what you wanted.”
“That’s my good girl,” he said again. “I’ll have a treat for you when I see you again.”
Neither of them spoke for a while and eventually, the sounds of driving that Juliet had been able to hear died away and she could hear Max switch off the engine.
“Are you at home, then?” she asked him miserably. She’d been enjoying being able to talk to him uninterrupted, even if they’d only mostly been talking about sex, and her sex life before she met him in particular. Juliet enjoyed sex. She always had, but none of her past lovers had ever made her feel as loved and wanted as Max did.
“I’m sorry, love,” Max said. He sounded genuinely regretful. “I was driving as slowly as I could legally get away with but I’m right outside the house now. I’ll call you tomorrow if I can, and I’ll text you so often, you’ll be sick of the sight of my number.”
“I could never get sick of you,” Juliet said.
They chatted generally for a few more minutes, then Max said:
“I’d better go in, love. I’ve been sitting out here in the car for the last ten minutes pretending to be listening to a CD, but if anyone looks out the window and sees me bobbing my head up and down in time to this purely imaginary music like this, they’ll think I’m having a fucking epileptic fit or something and call an ambulance.” Juliet burst out laughing. Max joined in and they both laughed till the tears ran down their faces. Juliet wasn’t sure if she felt happy or sad while she was laughing.
“I love you to bits,” Max said when he was signing off. “And I’ll call you tomorrow for sure.”
“I love you too,” Juliet whispered. “Promise you’ll call me?”
“I promise,” he said. He hung up then and Juliet, bereft, Max’s come still seeping out of her bottom, finished her wine.
Sandra Harris (writing as Serena Harker) is a novelist based in Dublin, Ireland. You can contact her at: firstname.lastname@example.org
This novel is a work of fiction and comes entirely from the imagination of Serena Harker. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
This is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Serena Harker reserves the right to be identified as the author of this novel.
Serena Harker. ©
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.
Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.
Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal.
She is addicted to buying books and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia, and would be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at: