He pulled me up onto his lap and told me in no uncertain terms just what anything meant to him and what I could expect when we finally got to that bed. I told him I never expected anything different from him. From then until the cab pulled up in front of my house, it was hands and lips everywhere, kissing, biting. It was all I could do to keep from giving into him right then and there. When the cab stopped, there we were, my dress all bunched up around my waist with Hando’s hands grabbing my ass and his teeth chewing on my breast thru my now ruined silk dress. And I was no better. I had my tongue down his throat and my hands in his pants. Hando managed to get some money out of his pocket and told him to put his eyes back in his head and bugger off. He staggered up the walkway with me in his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist. I hit the door with the back of my head hard enough to see stars but not hard enough to stop the serious fooling around that was going on.
“Look just let me do it,” Hando growled at me.
“No I can do it by myself.”
“Look you’re not putting it in right.”
“Yes I am and I don’t need you to tell me how to do it Hando. There see, it’s in. Are you happy now?” I asked as the key opened the lock and I pushed the door open, not thinking that we were leaned up against the door and suddenly there was only air. Hando turned so that he hit the floor and I landed on top of him.
“Oof! Oh you’d better be so worth this,” Hando managed to whisper as I slowly crawled
off him.
“Yeah, well you won’t find out lying there,” I told him as I crawled down the hall.
I’d just slipped into my bedroom with plans to put on something seductive and so hot, not that it would make a difference to him. Hando had a reputation of ‘get the clothes off and spread em.’ Why did I suddenly want to impress him? That was never in the game plan. I went to close the door just as Hando came charging in, shoving the door and me into the wall. He managed to grab me before I hit the floor. I couldn’t speak with all the breath knocked out of me and Hando took full advantage of the situation. Pressing me into the wall, grinding his lower body into mine, he licked me from that soft, tender spot between my neck and shoulder all the way to my ear.
Nuzzling my ear he whispered, “I am going to give you the fuck of a lifetime. The best fuck you ever had.”
And with that, he took those long fingers and ripped my dress right down the front. I shuddered, feeling the wetness gush from me as my dress slid to the floor. When I opened my mouth to try and get some air, he shoved his tongue down my throat. Hando picked me up, carried me to the bed and dropped me on it. What happened next could by no means be called lovemaking. It was too brutal, too animalistic to be called anything other than flicking. He didn’t care how much he might be hurting me or if by some miracle if I was getting any pleasure from it. Hell, he was probably getting off on the fact that I wasn’t enjoying it. The only thing that mattered to Hando was Hando. The hands and mouth that had given me pleasure before now only gave me pain. Over and over, on and on, “Oh God, please make him stop. I’ll be good. I swear it.” But he didn’t stop and the more I whimpered and tried to get away, the more he enjoyed and the worse it got for me. The one thing more perverse was that I knew going in that it would be like this and I still allowed it to happen. Hell, I had sought him out. One of my biggest problems in life has been that I always thought I could handle anything. I found out that night I was wrong. After he made sure that I kept my word about doing everything and it was finally over, I scooted to the edge of the bed and curled into a ball.
“You will not cry! You will not get sick! You will not let him see what this did to you!” I kept repeating this over and over in my head. And I didn’t but I couldn’t stop my body from shaking no matter how hard I tried.
I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my back but I couldn’t turn over, I just couldn’t face him, I knew if I did, I would lose it and now was not the time. I felt the mattress give as he moved behind me and all I could think was “Please God, don’t let him touch me again.” When he finally did put his hand on me it was such a light, gentle touch that I could almost make believe it was Abbie Glen turning me over. When I opened my eyes, the look on his face scared me to death. Had he hurt me so much that I had lost my mind? I could have sworn that he actually looked concerned and I knew he was just playing a sick joke. Hando cared about no woman. He didn’t say a word; he just kept staring at me. Finally he reached over and brushed my hair out of my face. I didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his chest. I could hear his heart beat, slow and steady. And then I realized that he wasn’t going to hurt me; he had fallen asleep. My body slowly relaxed and I slept the sleep of the dead, as my grandmamma used to say.
I don’t know what woke me up. All I do know was there wasn’t a place on my body that
didn’t hurt and there were bruises everywhere. I grabbed my robe and headed down the
hall to take a shower but a noise coming from the kitchen stopped me. I don’t know what
I thought was going on in there but nothing prepared me for seeing Hando barefoot and
just in jeans, zipped but not buttoned, standing at the stove cooking.
He looked at me and shrugged, “I got hungry. You want some?” He pointed at the table, “Sit.”
And sit I did. He dished up the food and got the milk out of the refrigerator.
“Eat.” He growled as he poured us both milk.
Eat, he said. As if I could do anything more than just stare at him with my mouth open. Hando attacked his food and was eating with gusto when he looked up and caught me staring. Sighing, he laid down his fork and stood up. He walked around to my side of the table, picked me up and sat back down with me on his lap. He reached over and dragged my plate and then my glass to his side of the table.
“Eat.”
I didn’t think I could eat a mouthful but with him watching, I loaded my fork and put it in my mouth. I couldn’t believe it, it was actually good and before I knew it, I had cleaned my plate. I gathered up the dishes and was getting ready to wash them when Hando took my hand.
“Let them soak.”
He pulled me into his arms and kissed me on the forehead.
“You need a bath. You smell like s---,î the words died on his lips when he saw the anguish in my eyes.
“Come on.”
He pulled me down the hall and opened the door to the bathroom.
“Sit.” He said pointing to the toilet.
I sat down and watched as he turned the water on and got the temperature adjusted. He turned and pulled me up, removing my robe at the same time.
“Go on, get in.”
I stood beneath the nozzle, letting the water hit me in the face. I don’t know how long I stood there but it was long enough that I almost jumped out of my skin when Hando touched my back. I hadn’t heard him get in the shower. He put his hands on my waist and turned me around, checking me over and never making a sound. He touched each bruise and bite mark. He picked up the shampoo and smelled it. It was French Vanilla. He turned me away from him and poured some on my head. Slowly and carefully he washed my hair and massaged my scalp. I’d never had such an erotic shampoo. When he finished, he turned me back to him and carefully rinsed my hair. Then Hando picked up the soap and sea sponge that I bathed with and proceeded to bathe me. Ever so gently.
“He’s playing mind games with you! Watch out!” my mind screamed at me.
But somehow I didn’t think so. He hadn’t apologized for last night and I knew he wouldn’t but there was something in his eyes that told me he regretted it. When he had washed both of us, he shut the water off and pulled me out of the shower. He grabbed a towel, gently dried me off and then wrapped a dry towel around me. He then dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. He led me back to my room and when we stepped inside; he shut the door and pulled me close. He put his hand under my chin and tilted my head back.
“You promised me a big bed, candles, and everything. All I got was the bed. I want the rest.”
I took a deep breath, “Are you going to hurt me?”
“No.” was his sullen reply.
So I got out my candles and my Michael Bolton. I programmed it to play my favorite song “Can I Touch You There” over and over. With the candles lit and Michael singing in the background, I walked over to Hando. I undid his towel and mine, letting them both fall to the floor. Looking at him, even with all those disgusting tattoos, he took my breath away. He really was a beautiful man, even with that smirk on his face. I put both my hands on his chest and pushed him down on the bed. I climbed up on the bed and straddled his waist. I bent down and kissed his face, his eyes, his lips. He wrapped his arms around me intent on pulling me closer, but when I flinched he stopped and let me set the pace; let me control the lovemaking. And that was what it was. Lovemaking as simple and pure as it could be. As if we really were lovers and the night before had never happened. I hated him for it. I didn’t want to love him. Hell, I didn’t want to like him. But he kept holding me and touching me. He took his fingers and ever so gently brushed them across my lips and down my neck onto my chest. I lowered my head and closed my eyes, not wanting to feel what I was feeling. This was so wrong! I couldn’t want him; couldn’t need him. But I did, God help me, I did. Afterwards, all I could do was cry. I know Hando thought I was nuts. I didn’t cry when he practically raped me and yet when he showed me some kindness I fell apart.
When I awoke Hando was sitting up reading. I almost had a heart attack when I saw that he was reading. Mien Kamph! How had he found it?
“Yours?” he asked
“It belonged to someone I used to know. Where’d you find it? I’d forgotten I had it.”
“It was the bookshelf in the living room. You read it?”
I shook my head “No.” So Hando proceeded to read parts of it to me and then explain what Hitler meant. Oh, I knew what the bastard meant and it made me sick to my stomach but I didn’t dare let Hando know. After a while, I’d had all I could stomach and I took the book out of his hands and told him to pay some attention to me. And again it was making love, not having sex and afterwards Hando slept. I got up and dressed very quietly and then I got my gun. I walked over to the bed but not close enough Hando could grab me and I cocked the gun. Hando was lying on his side and rolled over onto his back. I jumped back because I hadn’t realized he was awake.
“If you’re going to do this, luv, make sure you aim for the cross in the middle of my chest. That way it’ll be quick.” He said with no fear in his voice.
“One thing though, who is this guy and what’s he to you?” he asked holding up a photo.
“Where did you find that?” I asked my voice shaking.
“It was in the book. Now who is he?”
“He was my brother and you killed him. Oh you didn’t kill him yourself, but you brainwashed him. You turned him into one of your goons. You filled him with hate and that hate got him killed. He was my brother and he was all the family I had. And he’s dead because of you and now you are going to because of me.”
“Just do it then.” That’s all he said. He made no apologies, no excuses. I raised the gun and I tried, I really tried but I couldn’t do it. Last night, yeah I could have done it but not after today. I lowered the gun and then I raised it again when he got off the bed.
“Don’t come any closer. I mean it, Hando. I’ll kill you before I’ll let you hurt me again.”
“Put the gun down Angie, you don’t really want to do this.” He spoke softly as if he were talking to a child.
“Yes I do! I do! I hate you!” I screamed as he took the gun and threw it on the bed. “I hate you!” I said as he wrapped his arms around me and started kissing my tears away.
“I hate you! I hate you!” I murmured as he lowered me to the floor, covering my body with his.
“I hate you!” as he ripped my clothes off and never stopped kissing and touching me.
“I... .1..” I sobbed as he plunged into me, making me his.
“Hando.”
“I know,” he whispered.
And then there were no more word spoken between us. When it was over, I couldn’t move. He could have killed me and I wouldn’t have cared. Instead, he held me in his arms and whispered in my ear until I dropped off to sleep.
The next morning I awoke to Abbie beating on the door.
“Angie, let me in.”
“Calm down, I’m coming!” I yelled as I shrugged on my robe. I opened the door to find Abbie in a state of hysteria. “Are you ok?”
“Yes, I’m fine and before you ask, no I didn’t do it and no he didn’t hurt me.”
“Angie, are you sure you’re ok? Where is he?”
“I don’t have a clue but it’s over. He was here when I fell asleep.” And then I remembered and ran into the bedroom. There on the bed was my gun and Mien Kamph was on the nightstand. The only thing that was missing was the picture of my brother and me.
Abbie fixed both of us drinks and I told him everything.
“I don’t understand why he didn’t kill you, Angie, and why did he take that picture of you and Johnnie?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I sat down on Abbie’s lap, “but it’s over and believe it or not I’m glad it ended the way it did.”
And that was the end of it or so I thought until I walked into that room in ICU and there he was. When I raised my head off his bed, I realized that he had come to. I leaned over him and kissed his forehead, his eyes.
I whispered in his ear “We have a son and his name is Johnnie.”
I saw his eyes light up and then I reach over and unhooked the respirator tube from his mouth. See no matter how much I loved him, wanted him, needed him, I loved my little boy more and I could never chance Hando destroying him like he did my brother. I waited until I got no pulse and then I hooked the respirator back to the tube. I kissed him one last time and then I left the room. I reported his death to the floor nurse and then I went home to our son.
