The Last Fuck, Good-bye

"Hurricane Blanche made landfall yesterday evening in the Carolinas, causing massive flooding. Thousands are homeless and the death toll is already at thirty and expected to rise. The storm stalled offshore for two days, before making landfall at Cropper's Point, a small fishing community. Forecasters expected the storm to move inland and lose power, but it turned back to sea, fed by an artic cold front from the north and a warm low-pressure front, moving up from the gulf. At greatest risk now are hundreds of mariners, as the storm sweeps north with record winds and wave heights over ninety feet..."

The rest faded out. Ninety-foot waves... Moving north... Tanya was out there. Her vision swam and the world tilted crazily. As if from miles away she heard Angela's voice... Kelly?... Kelly, are you all right? She felt herself falling backwards, but darkness overcame her long before she hit the floor.

She was staying at Angela's place. That's where she had woken up and neither of them wanted to be alone. They took turns, one catnapping while the other stayed glued to the television. It was late Saturday night and Kelly was watching the weather channel. She wore one of Jeremiah's old shirts and a pair of panties she had borrowed from Angela. They were too large and the shirt swallowed her whole, but she dreaded going back to her place and Angela hadn't felt like driving anyway.

The ringing phone startled her and she felt her heart racing. Angela came running down the stairs a few moment's later.

"Thirteen, thirteen, quick," she called. Kelly fumbled with the remote and switched over to the all news station. A man in a coastguard outfit was standing at a podium.

"...ted in. We currently have approximately thirty ships that have not. At this time, the seas are still very heavy and the winds are excessive. Search and rescue operations are ongoing. I'll take any questions now,"

"Captain, are the missing ships presumed lost?"

"No. It's too early to tell how many or if any are lost. At this point in time, they simply haven't reported in. There could be several explanations. Their radio gear may have been damaged by the storm, they may have been blown off course, or be running ahead of the storm, some may simply have so much to do that no one is manning the radio."

"Captain, what about the emergency distress beacons every ship carries? Have any been picked up?"

"Yes, there have been several eeper signals reported," the old man said gravely.

"Can you tell us which ships?"

"No, I'm not at liberty to divulge that information. If they have actually gone down, our first responsibility is to rescue, the second is to recover bodies, the third is to notify families. All of that must be done before we would release the names of ships or victims and right now we haven't gotten through the rescue stage. I am able to report that the entire crew of the fishing vessel Connie Rose was airlifted from the ship before she foundered and that the crew of an Icelandic whaler were plucked from the ocean by the cutter Aurora."

"Captain, when will the names of the missing ships be available?"

"The ships aren't missing, as I said before; they are simply unaccounted for. There are no plans that I am aware of to make or propagate such a list at this time," he said before abruptly leaving the podium. Angela was already on the phone to the coastguard station before the news cut away to another terror bombing in the Middle East.

When Angela hung up the phone, she was ashen. Kelly dreaded asking, but knew she would have to. Angela saved her the trouble.

"The Ag went down off the Grand Banks. They located the eeper, but no wreckage or survivors," she said in a dead voice. Neither spoke, each lost in memories of the past and fears about the future. At some point, one of them began crying. Kelly never could remember if she broke down first or if Angela did. It hardly mattered; they held onto one another tightly and balled their eyes out.

Two days later, the knock at the door came. They were both expecting it. The search had been called off the day before and the Agatha Mae listed with six other ships that had gone down without a trace, in what the news was calling the deadliest storm in decades. Angela answered the door. He was young and tanned and handsome, but nervous and his uniform gleamed in the bright morning sun.

"Mrs. Biggs?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm Angela Biggs."

The young man removed his hat and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry ma'am. I regret to inform you that your husband, Jeremiah Biggs, has been lost at sea. His ship went down somewhere in the Grand Banks. We are not sure exactly where. We wish to extend our sincere condolences to you and the rest of the family."

"Thank you... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," she said woodenly.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Lieutenant Gary Clondberg... I've never had to do this before," he said apologetically.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," he finished, before turning and walking away.

Angela softly closed the door and turned to face Kelly. There were no tears, just a dead expression. When she spoke, her words were flat and toneless.

"I guess I had better take you home Kelly. Don't want some poor kid standing outside your door, making himself sick waiting for you."

"There won't be anyone outside my door," Kelly said bitterly. When Angela looked at her blankly, Kelly continued.

"I don't exist, as far as they are concerned," she said.

Kelly stood on the sidewalk and watched Angela's car drive away. She knew that the blonde woman would be back, eventually. Her own family in Georgia had disowned her when she married Jer. His family had always been hostile to her and she had no real friends in town. She would be back, because Kelly was all she had, but she needed to be alone to grieve, for a while. Kelly understood that; she needed some time too.

The little white two-story house looked the same as it did when she and Tanya had hurried out the door to make it to the Marina. It was in need of a paintjob and the stoop sagged, but it had been their place and so it was beautiful. Now it looked lonely and forlorn, at least to Kelly. She walked up to the front door, almost in a trance. Her key slid into the old lock and turned with a little finagling. She opened the door to see a pile of mail, mostly bills that she wouldn't be able to pay. All of their meager savings were in Tanya's account and even if she were declared legally dead, Kelly would see none of it.

Tanya's mother was a spiteful old woman, who blamed Kelly for 'turning her daughter gay'. She wouldn't have the least bit of pity for Kelly or be at all concerned about what her daughter would have wanted. Even though she was well-off, she would take their small savings, just to make sure Kelly didn't get any of it. She looked dazedly around the tiny foyer and mechanically picked up the mail. She placed all the envelopes in a tray that hung on the wall and nearly broke down into tears when she remembered how proud Tanya had been of that tray. She made it at the shop where she hung out with her friends and gave it to Kelly on her birthday.

The house was decorated with many such gifts. They had never had much money, but the small house had always been filled with love. Tanya had been so handy and had made most of the wood furniture for her. Kelly couldn't drive a nail, but she loved to paint and several small seascapes hung on the walls, all in frames made by Tanya. They were all painted around town, at places Tanya loved. Birthday gifts, anniversary gifts, Valentine's gifts, the kind of things two people give when there is more love than money and dinner at a nice restaurant is an extravagant expenditure.

Kelly glanced at the wingback chair next to the secondhand sofa. Her mind was instantly transported back to the day Tanya had brought it in. Dilapidated, missing a leg, the fabric so torn and stained. She had found it on the side of the road and had gotten Mary Jo to bring her truck and help her get it home. Kelly hadn't wanted it in the house, so Tanya dragged it out on the back stoop. She had been so happy with her find and Kelly felt guilty about the tantrum she had thrown.

Another memory of that chair, the day Tanya had finished redoing it and surprised Kelly with it, when she got in from work. It was beautiful then, dark wood gleaming, brass tacks winking in the firelight, and rich blue upholstery. Kelly pretended not to notice it was the same blue material as the curtains she had thrown out months earlier. They christened it that very night. She had ridden her lover to several orgasms in that chair, while Tanya smiled so proudly and tenderly kneaded her ass. The memory of that night caused a pang of pain so real she gasped.

She gathered her thoughts and touched the button on the cheap answering machine. Mostly condolences from friends of Tanya's, but the most touching was from Ricky. She rewound it and listened to it a second time.

"Hey, Kelly. Look, I know it's a really bad time, but I just wanted to say how sorry I am. I loved Tanya like a sister. I just wanted to let you know how sorry we all are and to tell you not to worry about the rent. I remember how hard it was on us when dad didn't come back and Mom is in total agreement with me. You can stay rent-free as long as it takes to get back on your feet. If we can help in any way, just call."

Such nice people. She wished other people were like the Whitakers. So totally non-judgmental and nice. Not having to pay the rent meant she wouldn't have to abandon this little house and its memories right away. For that, even more than for having a roof over her head, she would be forever grateful to them.

The kitchen was spartan, but comfortable. It was also a mess. She had left in a hurry and now it smelled of rancid grease and flies circled the remains of her meager dinner. In a way, that too was good. She opened the back door and window and mindlessly cleaned up while she aired it out. Fifteen minutes. Perhaps, half an hour. Not very long, but any respite from the crushing loneliness and sense of loss that was bearing down on her was welcome.

She made her way slowly up the worn stairs, trying not to cry as she passed the two framed photos of them together, which Tanya had insisted they sit for, when they decided to move in together. Kelly hadn't wanted to, knowing how short they were on cash, but Tanya had insisted. She had looked so handsome in the rented tuxedo and so happy.

Her lover had never been the huggy-kissy type. She had probably said 'I love you' no more than three times in their two years together. At first, it had really bothered Kelly, but then she woke up one day to a gentle kiss and a small box of chocolates. No birthday, no Christmas, no special occasion at all. It was just to make her happy. She realized then that Tanya was constantly saying 'I love you', every day, in so many ways. She just wasn't much of a talker. Her actions, her touch and her thoughtfulness, however, spoke volumes.

And now she was gone. Kelly would never get to tell her how much she really meant to her, or how much she cared. She found herself in the bedroom, not really remembering how she had gotten there. The old iron bed, another roadside rescue, with its worn-out mattress, greeted her. She had sewed the quilt that covered it now herself, following instructions from her grandmother by mail. The sun streamed in and Kelly looked around the room through teary eyes, at all the things there that had belonged to Tanya.

She crawled on the bed, hugged a pillow to her chest, and began to cry. Long, ragged sobs wracked her petite frame, until at last she slept.

It was dark outside, when she awoke. She flipped on the lamp on Tanya's nightstand, since there wasn't one on hers, and her eyes were drawn to the drawer. Not really thinking, or even comprehending what she was doing, Kelly rose and stripped off her clothes. She lay down on the bed, closed her eyes, and imagined Tanya lying next to her, gently stroking her breasts. She remembered the earnest look on her lover's face whenever she was making love and her oh-so-tender touch.

It was only when she moaned softly that she realized her own small hands were gently kneading her breasts. Part of her mind said she should stop, that this was wrong, but part of her said go on, Tanya would have wanted her to remember the happy times. Stopping might have been best, but that would mean really letting her lover go. Kelly couldn't face that, not yet, so she closed her eyes and tried to hold on to Tanya, even if this was really the last goodbye fuck.

She remembered the deep kisses and how Tanya was so careful never to make her feel uncomfortable by forcing all of her wide tongue into her small mouth. Eyes still squeezed tightly shut, her hand trailed down her tummy, twirled the soft downy hairs of her pubic triangle, and then slipped lower. Tanya's long finger slipped between her damp lips and began to gently stroke her. Kelly spread her legs slightly and sighed as one of Tanya's long fingers slipped into her tight pussy.

For a long time she gently fucked herself, alone in the big bed, but in her mind, she wasn't alone and it wasn't her finger. It was Tanya's and she knew just the right spots to make it feel wonderful.

"I love you," she moaned as her finger picked up speed and Tanya's other hand slipped to the top of her slit. The quick sawing of the finger, combined with the circular motions over her clitoral hood, soon had her gasping and her hips flailing. Her eyes shot open and she jerked her hands away from her wet lips. Her body was coated in a light sheen of sweat and her nipples stood out. Hesitantly, she opened Tanya's nightstand drawer, and pulled out the dildo, harness and all.

Closing her eyes once more, she placed the jelly at her entrance and drove it in. With frantic, frenetic motions, she fucked herself, driving the dildo into her body with all of the strength she possessed. She moaned, gasped, cried out, and eventually came, never once opening her tightly shut eyes, or letting go of Tanya.

The big woman stood and smiled, that same loving smile she had seen so many times, then blew her a kiss, and walked away.

"Goodbye," Kelly whispered. The words seemed to echo around the dimly lit room.