Forgotten Love

By: Cher Etan


“Sure. You wrote a book, you blew up. Your life got busy. You didn’t have time for me anymore.”

“Oh, so totally all my fault?” Frances said with a smirk.

“Well, I was a pretty sulky big baby about it so I’m guessing that didn’t help,” he conceded.

“Look at you! Growin up and shit…” she said punching him lightly in the shoulder.

“Yeah, look at me,” Allen repeated dryly.

“Anyway, so…now that I don’t remember my writing career, do we still got a problem?” she asked.

Allen shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t need you to be unhappy so we can be good, okay? I just need you to make some time for me.”

“That sounds reasonable. Especially since I don’t know you from Adam but I don’t know anyone else either so-“

Her phone rang and she looked down at it in surprise. “Who is…Kareemshe?” she asked Allen. He grimaced and sighed.

“He’s your ex-boyfriend who is turning into a chick,” he said.

She stared at him with her mouth open, “Say what now?”

Allen pointed at the phone, “You going to answer it?” he asked. Frances snatched up the phone, having totally forgotten that she's supposed to answer when the phone rings.

“H-hallo?” she said.

“Hey gowrrl, where have you been? So quiet. Are we in a fight?”

“What? No we’re not in a fight. I’d have to remember you for us to be in a fight,” she said unthinkingly.

“Ouch,” Kareemshe said.

“I mean, I’m sorry, didn’t you hear? I had an accident, I have amnesia,” she hastened to say before Kareemshe became offended. Her friend burst into laughter.

“You’re so funny Fran, I swear it's one of the things I love about you.”

“Er...” Frances said awkwardly, not knowing if she should ask about the ‘I love about you’ part…was that purely in a platonic way or…?

“I’m actually dead serious,” she said at last.

There was silence on the line.

“Hallo?” Frances said looking at the screen to see if Kareemshe had hung up.

“You’re serious?” Kareemshe asked.

“Yes. I’m serious. I have amnesia. I don’t know you Kareemshe,” she said. Allen covered his eyes and winced and she looked at him with raised eyebrows.

“Its just Kareem,” he whispered to her. Frances’ mouth dropped open as she realized she’d put her foot in it.

“Sorry, I meant Kareem. Ummm, do you want to maybe come over and visit?” she asked to make up for her rudeness.

“I would, if I wasn’t all the way here in Vegas,” she/he said. “Tell that no-good man of yours I’m not amused that he didn’t tell me about this.”

“I’ll pass on the message. Vegas huh? Sounds fun.”

“Hmmm, it's okay. They don’t care about what sex I am over here as long as I pull my weight in the shows.”

“And you’re fine with that?” Frances asked not really knowing what to say but not wanting to lose a friend if that was what Kareemshe was.

“Yeah. I have a holiday coming up in the next two weeks. Maybe I’ll come out there,” she/he said.

“That’s cool. Will you er, stay with us? I’m pretty sure we have enough space.”

Kareemshe laughed, “I guess you really do have amnesia. I’ll see you next week and we can catch up.”

“Okay…bye,” Frances said and waited for Kareemshe’s reply before she hung up.

She glared at Allen. “Do I have any other friends you neglected to inform of my condition?”

Allen shrugged. “I was distracted,” he said simply. There was something in his eyes though, when he said it; as if he’d been in far much more distress than he was letting on. This situation was so complicated and now there was a baby.

“Are we ever going to talk about the baby?” she asked.

“It takes nine months to grow one, right? We have time.”

Frances lifted her brow, “That is assuming we aren’t getting rid of it.”

Allen leaned forward on the table, “Do you want to get rid of it?”

Frances thought about it seriously, vague memories of her mother leaving her alone to fend for herself when she could barely understand what that meant, and her vow, made silently but no less resolutely, that a child of hers would never go through that. She looked at Allen with his thousand dollar watch and his entitled attitude; would he let his child rot on the street? Somehow she didn’t think so. She knew she wouldn’t let her child fall by the wayside like that.

“I don’t think I do,” she said at last.

“Well then, I guess we do have nine months to decide where to go from here.”

“Just one question, if we were fighting so much, when did we have the time to have unprotected sex?” she asked.

Allen smiled, “Make up sex is the best kind.”

*****

It had been a Tuesday, Allen remembered clearly because he’d had a full day at the office and he was tired as shit. Mondays were his day off…the weekends were technically not work days but there was always some work-related soiree, benefit, golf tournament, or other event that he had to attend that he pretty much thought of weekends as socializing work days. But Mondays…Mondays were just for him. He stayed home, he hassled Frances so she had to stop whatever she was doing and goof around with him, he cooked for them, they watched movies or stayed in bed all afternoon…it was usually wonderful.

That Monday though, Frances had been busy; some book thing that had been suddenly rescheduled from the weekend. So Allen had been…out of sorts. The negativity in the house had spilled over into Tuesday and when he had come home, he’d found Frances in the kitchen, arms crossed, ready for battle.

“How long am I going to be on double secret probation?” she’d asked glaring at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said crossing over to the wine bar to pour himself a whiskey. He was too sober for this conversation.

“I’m talking about the fact that you sulk every time I go out for some book function and I just want to know if that’s a permanent situation or something you plan to get over some time soon.”

Allen poured a second glass of whiskey and kept silent.

“What? You stonewalling me now Al? Me?” Frances demanded.

“I’m not stonewalling anyone Frannie Fran, I’m drinking my whiskey and avoiding an argument.”

“You’d do better to avoid an argument by not sulking in the first place,” Frances bit out.

Allen turned around suddenly, slamming his glass down on the counter so the liquid jumped and spilled. “Fine. I’m sorry I was ‘sulking’ or whatever. I’ll try to be happy to not spend any time with you from now on.”

“Oh, grow up,” Frances replied in irritation and stalked off down the hall to their room. Allen took a breath to steady his rapidly rising ire and followed her. He slammed the bedroom door after he walked in, startling her and making her spin around to face him in surprise.

“What?” she got out before he was on her like a shark swallowing its prey. He propelled her backward onto the bed and they both fell, Allen stretching his hands out to break his fall so that he wouldn’t fall on her.

“Shut up,” he said, even though she wasn’t exactly trying to talk. His lips came down and fastened onto hers, the caress more angry than tender. Frances wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in anyway, softening in a way that let him know she yielded, she submitted to him; whatever he wanted, he could have. He didn’t even have to ask. Well, what he wanted was all of it, all of her, all the time. It was all consuming, this feeling in his chest that caused him to rip her clothes from her body with controlled savagery and bite at her lip just so he could mark her, everyone would know who she belonged to for weeks to come. Her delicate honey complexion showed every bruise for as long as it took to heal. The site of the redness on her lip was like a red flag to a bull. Allen’s vision went hazy and he tore at his fly, not really coordinated enough to get them off efficiently. Then her hands were on him and he took his own away, letting her relieve him of his jeans and his shirt and his boxers. He stood naked and trembling before her as she leaned in and licked a line up his painfully hard penis. He shivered in reaction and snapped his hips forward, seeking the warmth of her mouth even as she moved away. She got on her knees and took off her shirt which was hanging half on, half off her. Her eyes were steady on him as he took in her body.

“Frannie,” he growled taking a step forward and putting one knee on the bed.

“Al,” she breathed in reply, leaning forward to place her lip on the side of his mouth, tongue peeking out to taste. “Fuck me,” she whispered as she took his ear between her teeth.

“Uh,” he groaned as he circled her waist with his hands and threw her backward so she fell sprawled onto the bed, legs spread wide. “Fran,” he whispered as he covered her body with his, penetrating her in one long thrust as his breath caught in his chest and he literally felt his heart stop. Her legs came up as she held onto them with her hands, giving him full access to her wet warmth. Hips snapping with vigor and speed, he rutted into her; mouth open and breath coming fast and hard and hoarse. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he listened to the sounds she was making; full of want and lust and need. Allen’s stomach hurt with the need to be deep inside her and he doubled his efforts, the friction creating an impossible heat that fueled the fires of his passion.

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