by Mia Hopkins
(05/23/07)

I

Maria is thin and frail-looking, with small breasts and pink nipples that point slightly upward. She has narrow shoulders but her hips are womanly and curve softly against the insides of Max's forearms.

In the mirror behind her, he can see her small round ass. He watches his hands massaging the cheeks of her ass as if they aren't his hands, but someone else's: her idiot boyfriend's, maybe. She smells like coconut oil. Her hair is slightly tangled from her nap. Max's erection lurches at her through his clothes.

His senses heightened, he can hear the soft scrape of her pubic hair against the denim of his jeans. He feels the tip of his penis become damp. She is kissing his ear wetly and whispering something, but he can't understand. He also can't understand exactly how he came to be here, in her bedroom overlooking the freeway, or how he came to be holding her naked in his arms.

II

They are both five. The families are having a barbecue at Maria's parents' house in southeast LA, under a guava tree whose tropical scent spreads for blocks around. The October sun is bright and summer-warm. The babies of the families, Max and Maria content themselves by blowing bubbles through straws, using Styrofoam cups filled with Palmolive and water. They blow bubbles onto the swimming pool, watching the round spheres become domes as they float down onto the water. Maria chews on her straw, bending it.

She can't blow bubbles anymore. Reaching out, she grabs Max's straw out of his hand. Angrily, he tries to get it back, but can't. In a rage, he leans forward and pushes Maria backwards into the swimming pool.

Here is what he remembers: the yellow cotton of her sundress turns lighter under water. A bubble escapes from her lips as she yells in surprise. She flails her arms but, unaccustomed to being in the swimming pool without water wings, sinks under the surface. Uncles abandon their stations around the barbecue and jump into the pool to get her.

After the commotion, his mother takes him into Maria's parents' bedroom and spanks him. For days, weeks, maybe months he is denied things he likes: dessert, new coloring books, extra time to watch TV. His mother looks at him and tells him: "Because of what you did to your cousin." He begins to feel shame for the first time, a feeling that comes to serve as the basis for all feelings, the white noise behind the music of his other feelings, that he can't name but knows is always there.

Here is what Maria remembers: the air, smoky and noisy, suddenly replaced by silence. Max's face, blurred through the water, full of horror and anger. Hands and bubbles and shouting. Coughing and crying -- lots of both. Her mother drying her off with a towel and dressing her in Max's Batman T-shirt and corduroy shorts, which smell strange but good. And the taste of chlorine, sharp and acrid, drying chalky and sticky on her skin.

III

She likes to drink. A lot. She drops out of her fancy university somewhere in the Midwest and comes home, looking like a hippie. Her hair is long and natural; she wears clogs and linen tunics, and tight jeans that are frayed at the hems and seams. She's skinny and belligerent. She gets a job as a teacher's assistant and moves out of her mom's house. She gets an apartment across town, a tiny studio overlooking the 101 freeway through dusty windows.

Her boyfriend is an idiot, some grouchy kid from the East Coast, expecting to make it in Hollywood, expecting to be the next big thing. Max barely acknowledges him when he and Maria come over for Sunday dinner.

He asks his mother, "Why do you invite them over? They're freeloaders."

She shakes her head at him. "You think about money too much. Family is family. Remember that."

He tries to understand. He pays the bills, covering his mother's health expenses with his insurance from UPS. He comes home in the blue morning and sleeps until noon. On Sunday evenings, Maria and her idiot come to his house and fill their bellies with his food and talk nonsense politics. After they leave, Max locks his bedroom door and masturbates himself numb, Maria's face and beautiful body projected brightly onto the back wall of his brain.

On Sunday nights the neighborhood is silent except for the hum of the distant freeway, white and barely audible.

IV

Her boyfriend leaves her. He goes back to his grouchy East Coast city to tell lies about Los Angeles.

Maria, still too proud to talk to her own mother, calls Max's late one evening. Max answers the phone; his mother is out at church bingo and the TV blares in the background.

Maria says, "I'll call her back later."

Max can hear that her voice is hoarse with crying and, even though he already knows the answer, asks, "What's the matter?"

They talk until she's drowsy and lapsing into nonsense. He smiles at the nonsense and feels his heart pound against his rib cage. "Do you want me to come over?" he asks, finally.

"Yes," she says, "please come over."

V

She pads to the door, unlocks the deadbolt, and lets him in. She's wearing an old T-shirt and tiny terrycloth shorts. Her thin legs are shapely; her toenails are neat but unpainted. Max holds his breath as she wraps her arms around him. He breathes the smell of whiskey on her and looks around the apartment at the unwashed dishes in the kitchen sink and the Kleenex wads strewn about the floor. Feeling he's entered into her bad dream, he's filled with hot shame and pulls away from her.

Maria holds him fast and looks him in the eyes. "I forgive you," she says, and for a moment Max thinks she's too drunk to know what she's saying. "Max, don't go," she whispers, and all of a sudden her legs are around him and her back is on the coffee table and he's pulling up her T-shirt and her pink nipples are hardening between his lips.

VI

Maria leads him by the hands into the bedroom and closes the door.

In the mirror he watches his hands kneading the cool halves of her ass and rubbing her hips. Her eyes are closed; her eyelashes cast tiny shadows on her soft cheeks. He rubs her nipples with his thumbs, brushes the skin on her chest with the palm of his hand, and his hand suddenly looks big and callused against her beautiful white neck.

He bends his head toward her. She lifts her chin and offers her bottom lip to him, which he takes between his own lips, sucking softly. She groans deep in her throat and his penis cries more tears, wetting the inside of his boxers. Her fingers yank at his belt and the buckle clinks heavily onto the wood floor along with his jeans.

Now she's on the floor on all fours, untying his shoes. In the mirror he looks at the crack of her ass, which is now spread. Her pubic hair, natural and light, barely obscures the pink petals of her labia. By the hall light, he can see that the insides of her thighs are slick with arousal.

She reaches up and yanks down his boxers playfully, as if she were pantsing him, and his cock jerks upward into the air, glistening. She takes the length of him immediately into her hot mouth, thrusting her head forward and back. The wet smack of her lips fills the room. Her hair hangs down on either side of her face, tickling the front of his thighs.

She looks up with his cock in her mouth and smiles, pushing his cockhead hard into the soft pocket of her cheek. Saliva shines on his shaft and leaks from the corner of her pink mouth.

He takes off his shirt. The nakedness seeps under his skin. He gathers the hair off her neck and shoulders, pulling it firmly behind her, levering her neck up as he thrusts deep down her throat, feeling the cushion of her palete against the tiny opening of his cock. When he feels come welling in his balls, Max pulls Maria's hair further back. His cock springs from between her lips with a loud sucking sound. She looks even tinier than before, skin damp and eyes drowsy, messy hair clinging to the sweat on her forehead.

Dizzy with desire, he pushes her back onto her bed, shoving piled laundry aside to kneel between her thighs. With his big hands he shoves her thighs apart, feeling the moisture gathered there. He pushes her thighs far, far apart, and the outer labia of her pussy fall apart, exposing a hot, wet center and erect clitoris, hooded as heavily as Maria's eyes.

She leans back on the pillows and twirls her nipples between her fingers. She takes one deep breath, then another, but her whole body, even her skin, seems to be breathing beneath his fingertips. With an index finger, Max gently rubs the outside lips of her pussy. She responds by moistening until her dripping pussy spills onto the bed sheets, leaving a dark stain. Holding her lips open with both hands, he dives deep into her, lapping at her moisture, swirling her clit with the tip of his tongue, tongue-fucking the coral opening of her pussy until he's licked every wall inside of her, smearing her wetness across his face with greed and need. He sucks on her clit and slips fingers into her, first one and then two; she squirms under him in discomfort...and then he slips in three.

She props herself up to see Max's face; he looks up to see her eyes wild and her fingers pulling frantically at her hard nipples. With his free hand, he pushes hard against her lower abdomen, feeling the fingers of his other hand inside of her.

His tongue slurps against her pussy.

She breathes hard against his hand, chest pumping and skin flushing -- and all of a sudden she grips his fingers hard, flexing around him. Even her clitoris is pulsating between his lips. She's groaning, eyes closed tight, hips bucking against him wildly.

After her orgasm, she grabs Max's shoulders and pushes him onto the bed. He can feel the wet spot under his ass as she descends on him, sucking the fury back into his cock until his aching erection returns. She grabs his bent knees as she balances herself over him. With one hand, she guides his cock into her.

He looks at their bodies, their pale skin and pale pubic hair, and for a moment he cannot tell where he ends and she begins. The coconut smell of her skin seems to deepen and become more pronounced as soon as he is inside her; he feels his chest and skin flush to fever heat. She begins thrusting onto him, her tiny body riding his, smearing more of her moisture across his abdomen. He watches her tiny breasts as she throws herself up and down on him, squeezing his cock with all her might, groaning in rhythm with her movements.

His balls tighten against his body and he places his hands on her hips, slowing her down. He says quietly, "I wanna fuck you from behind."

And she says, "Yes," gets up gently off his cock and bends over the armchair, her legs straight and tight, her pussy offered to him.

He struggles up, shoves his cock into her with his fist, and grabs her hips. The room is hot with their smell and he is nearly unconscious with desire. He is gasping for air. He thrusts slow and hard into her, slapping her tiny round ass with his abs, watching his cock dive deep and then pull out shiny with her juices, her delicate lips sucking at him as he pulls back.

And then, there's no more watching. He's thrusting hard into her, pushing her face against the upholstery of the chair, groaning like an animal, lifting her heels off the floor.

He's coming -- deep, long spurts into her pussy. His orgasm rages, beyond his control.

After he is done, Maria smiles gently, still fingering her clit.

VII

At 3 a.m., Max sneaks out of the apartment and drives aimlessly for two hours, taking surface streets all around the city. He watches the street sweepers and the early morning runners in Silverlake; he watches the sun come up and the fog disappear.

He parks his car and waits. For what? He smells Maria all over him, thinks about her lips on the shaft of his cock, and feels her sex wrapped around his. He's hard again. Tears begin to well in his eyes.

VIII

Maria wakes at six, puts on her old, beat-up kettle for tea, and drags out her ironing board.

As she begins ironing her work outfit for the day, Max's come begins to slide down her thighs. She towels it off, noticing its sharp, familiar chlorine scent. She smiles, a fleeting hint of a smile, and then moves into her day.

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