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Authors: Belinda Burns
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rain. ‘C’mon, stunt-woman.’ He’s
laughing as he sprints over to it. I float behind in a trance, mud squelching between my toes, the long, wet grass licking at my calves. I look up at the sky. The storm clouds scud away, leaving a
sky so blue it makes me want to cry.
When I get to the car, Scott is lying inside, his bare legs sticking out of the wreck. I crouch down on the ground and tug at his shorts with my good arm.
‘Did you land upside down or did it roll over?’ His voice is muffled from inside the cabin.
I pinch the skin on his thigh, aching for him to hold me.
He wriggles out. ‘Here. Show us that arm.’ He takes my fingers, gently pulling until my arm is fully extended. ‘Tell me if it hurts.’ He presses the soft pads of his
fingers along my arm, bending down as if to listen to the bones, working his way from the wrist up to the elbow joint. Pain shoots through me, up to my neck. He frowns. ‘Yep, it’s
broken alright.’ He stands and pulls me gently by the armpits, but I shake my head and lie down on the ground with my bad arm cradled into me. I’m so happy here in the sun, in the
sweet-smelling grass.
He crouches over me, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I struggle to sit up. He inches closer, wrapping his arms around me. I press my face to his bare chest, lick his salty skin. I find his
mouth, falling on to it open-jawed like I’m biting into a peach. My tongue searches out the walls, the teeth, the gums, his silky palate.
He pulls back. ‘C’mon. We better get you to a hospital.’
I look into his eyes and suddenly the world is purple – the grass, the sky, his skin. Such a beautiful colour. With my good arm I push him down into the grass and pull off his boxers and
all the time he’s staring at me, unblinking.
‘Oh, babe,’ he murmurs. His purple cock is pointing at the sky.
Holding my arm stiff as an oar behind me, I dip down to lick and kiss the smooth, rounded tip of his penis. He groans, slipping back the triangles of my bikini top and twisting my nipples into
buds. I crawl further up his body, straddling his thighs. With one hand, he reaches down, slides the crotch of my bikini bottoms to one side and pushes his fingers up into me. I close my eyes and
tip my head back towards the sun, kaleidoscope reds and orange swirling behind my lids. I pull his fingers out of me and rear up, my pussy hovering over his dick, nudging and brushing against
it.
‘Oh, fuck.’ He bolts upright and pashes me. Then he stops, draws back and looks at me. ‘What about your arm?’
I push him back down again. His eyes flutter shut. I wait, one, two, three before sliding on to him. At first, it hurts. I bite hard on my bottom lip. But then, I’m spreading, opening, and
he’s in me and I want to get inside him, too. Right deep inside him. A soft, dark drowning in his blood. I’m having strange thoughts of being consumed, absorbed, devoured by him.
‘I love you,’ I say.
‘I fucking love you, too,’ he says.
I kick and shudder. My spine sways and teeters and I collapse on to him, just like I’m dying.
5
It was nearly nine by the time I parked under the leopard tree a few houses up the road from Scott’s. From inside the car, I watched a pack of his old uni mates
shouldering cartons of VB across the lawn. I patted some extra foundation on my scar, opened the door and stuck my legs out on the road to do up my strappies. I had a wild thought that maybe later,
after the party had ended, Scott would take me down to the bottom of the backyard and fuck me under the mango tree where we’d done it heaps of times before. But I told myself to play it cool.
Straightening my mini, I sashayed down the footpath and across the lawn. I knocked on the side door which everyone, except Avon ladies and Mormons, used instead of the front.
Mr Greenwood appeared, stubbie in hand. ‘Well, hello there, stranger. Long time no see.’ He was wearing a ‘World’s Best Barbie, Mate’ apron.
laughing as he sprints over to it. I float behind in a trance, mud squelching between my toes, the long, wet grass licking at my calves. I look up at the sky. The storm clouds scud away, leaving a
sky so blue it makes me want to cry.
When I get to the car, Scott is lying inside, his bare legs sticking out of the wreck. I crouch down on the ground and tug at his shorts with my good arm.
‘Did you land upside down or did it roll over?’ His voice is muffled from inside the cabin.
I pinch the skin on his thigh, aching for him to hold me.
He wriggles out. ‘Here. Show us that arm.’ He takes my fingers, gently pulling until my arm is fully extended. ‘Tell me if it hurts.’ He presses the soft pads of his
fingers along my arm, bending down as if to listen to the bones, working his way from the wrist up to the elbow joint. Pain shoots through me, up to my neck. He frowns. ‘Yep, it’s
broken alright.’ He stands and pulls me gently by the armpits, but I shake my head and lie down on the ground with my bad arm cradled into me. I’m so happy here in the sun, in the
sweet-smelling grass.
He crouches over me, brushing my hair out of my eyes. I struggle to sit up. He inches closer, wrapping his arms around me. I press my face to his bare chest, lick his salty skin. I find his
mouth, falling on to it open-jawed like I’m biting into a peach. My tongue searches out the walls, the teeth, the gums, his silky palate.
He pulls back. ‘C’mon. We better get you to a hospital.’
I look into his eyes and suddenly the world is purple – the grass, the sky, his skin. Such a beautiful colour. With my good arm I push him down into the grass and pull off his boxers and
all the time he’s staring at me, unblinking.
‘Oh, babe,’ he murmurs. His purple cock is pointing at the sky.
Holding my arm stiff as an oar behind me, I dip down to lick and kiss the smooth, rounded tip of his penis. He groans, slipping back the triangles of my bikini top and twisting my nipples into
buds. I crawl further up his body, straddling his thighs. With one hand, he reaches down, slides the crotch of my bikini bottoms to one side and pushes his fingers up into me. I close my eyes and
tip my head back towards the sun, kaleidoscope reds and orange swirling behind my lids. I pull his fingers out of me and rear up, my pussy hovering over his dick, nudging and brushing against
it.
‘Oh, fuck.’ He bolts upright and pashes me. Then he stops, draws back and looks at me. ‘What about your arm?’
I push him back down again. His eyes flutter shut. I wait, one, two, three before sliding on to him. At first, it hurts. I bite hard on my bottom lip. But then, I’m spreading, opening, and
he’s in me and I want to get inside him, too. Right deep inside him. A soft, dark drowning in his blood. I’m having strange thoughts of being consumed, absorbed, devoured by him.
‘I love you,’ I say.
‘I fucking love you, too,’ he says.
I kick and shudder. My spine sways and teeters and I collapse on to him, just like I’m dying.
5
It was nearly nine by the time I parked under the leopard tree a few houses up the road from Scott’s. From inside the car, I watched a pack of his old uni mates
shouldering cartons of VB across the lawn. I patted some extra foundation on my scar, opened the door and stuck my legs out on the road to do up my strappies. I had a wild thought that maybe later,
after the party had ended, Scott would take me down to the bottom of the backyard and fuck me under the mango tree where we’d done it heaps of times before. But I told myself to play it cool.
Straightening my mini, I sashayed down the footpath and across the lawn. I knocked on the side door which everyone, except Avon ladies and Mormons, used instead of the front.
Mr Greenwood appeared, stubbie in hand. ‘Well, hello there, stranger. Long time no see.’ He was wearing a ‘World’s Best Barbie, Mate’ apron.
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