Short Fiction- Big Hands, Bigger Feat--

(Don't know why I went all fictional today. First draft of a seed of an idea...)

There was no ring and there was no other, but that didn’t stop the pummeling Hank was accepting to his neck and the side of his head. Her hands were like xylophone wands playing a tired old classic. “How could you! How could you? How could you do this, the fuck, to me?”

He would tolerate this as calmly as possible for a few more seconds, and then he’d have to act. He hated that part. Acting. It wasn’t what he wanted, at all. If only she’d stop having these episodes, he could keep his hands busy doing other things. Things he enjoyed. Things she enjoyed. He wanted to touch her in places. He wanted to make her feel really, really good. Not this shit. This shit was going to get somebody hurt.

Her body was rolling over thirty-five with little damage done. There had been no kids. There had been no weight gain. There had been several lean years where food was not an easy thing to over-do, and this had kept her more desirable than most.

Hank knew he was lucky to have her. Being fifty on the outside meant his chances for these types of bodily encounters had been reduced to almost nil. Here was a woman in a girl’s body, and she was in bed with him, and she was naked, and he had just made love to her and given her three. What the hell was she so upset about after THAT effort?

The pummeling had broken through and Hank was done letting her get this all out. This anger she had was not his and did not belong to him. He could take some of it- some of it he could absorb for her because he wanted to love her- but damn it! This shit hurt!

He grabbed a flailing wrist with his right hand and placed it in his left. Her bones were small and her hands were delicate. He needed to be careful. With his right hand again, he caught her other hand and passed it into his left hand and now gripped her wrists with even pressure while she struggled against him.

“Easy now…” he kept saying to her in a soft voice that sounded to her like paternal condescension. “Easy now…”

She struggled against his left hand fiercely and was not effective in doing anything but hurting herself, as skin twisted and pinched inside the massive work-hand that held her with so little effort.

“Easy now…” Hank repeated.

She was not going to let this man do this to her.

“Easy now, my fuckin’ ass! Let go of me! LET GO OF ME!”

The rage she was so bent on expressing left her hands and arms and traveled down her torso and into her right leg. This she lifted like the head of a Cobra and struck and struck. She was now driving her heel down into Hank’s kidney and Hank had no choice but to grab her leg and place it too in his left hand, holding it there with a spare finger he released from her two fighting arms.

This pissed her off, and now her rage moved into her final limb- her left leg. This she tried to bring down against the collection of limbs Hank held tightly with the one calm hand.

“How could anybody be so goddamn arrogant as to hold another with one fricking hand?”

The thought flew through her rage like a bird in a calamity, and she kicked and kicked and tried to wedge her limbs free but now she was caught again, not like fish in a net but like the goddamn net itself!

Hank lifted her by her four limbs until her body became light against the bed, using his left hand and his powerful left shoulder. With his right hand he reached down and tried to stroke the mass of hair away that had sprayed all over her spitting face.

She was caught. There was nothing she could do. Everything she had had been spent fighting this man. This man who now had her completely subdued without even trying. With one final writhing effort, she tried to break free and jerked around like a speared fish and then gave in and found herself held captive and exhausted, with nothing left in her to drive her rage and nothing left to fight him with.

The tears came, and the sobs soon followed. Semen slid unseen down upturned passages and traveled easily to an awaiting egg.