Thread: Young, Wild, and Free (Crusade and Mim)

RE Young, Wild, and Free When they both stood, Celia glanced down to see what she had done to her man and gave him an impish grin. He'd shown her so many things Henry had never done with her, and there was a list of things she could think to do to him right now. Things she wanted to do so badly. But that would have to wait, despite feeling the same way he did at the moment. I guess the signal'll be...I'll go out to check the mail. It comes after Henry comes home. She nodded and kissed him back just before he opened the door. She didn't have time to find the words to say she loved him too before she was out on the porch and he was hurrying back inside he's caught her off-guard. It was the first time he'd said it and she found that she did love him back. She had just been stunned into silence. Celia nearly floated back home across town, trying hard to keep the smile from her face. At home she quickly packed a suitcase a few dresses, the money she had along with the wad of cash kept in a coffee can that Henry didn't think she knew about, her jewelry and her husband's watch. Along with some toiletries, this was all she'd need for a while to tide her over until they could make some real money. She barely had time to start dinner before her husband came back. Celia Jean! Henry's coarse voice could be heard clearly throughout the small house, despite the fact that he was only in the driveway. Drunk already. Celia wondered briefly if he'd ever been sober in the past several years. Celia you damn well better have dinner ready, and it sure as fuck better not be like that burnt piece of shit you tried to feed me this afternoon! Neighbors were used to hearing Mr. Lenox shouting abuses at his wife, whether they were outside or their windows open, yet nobody ever intervened. Nobody ever said or did anything when they could hear Mrs. Lenox screaming and crying, either. It's almost ready, darlin', Celia called through the screen door as she heard her husband's boots tromping up the porch steps. Chicken stew. Chick--? Chicken stew, chicken stew! We had that last night, and the night before! The screen door swung shut and Henry slammed the heavy wooden door behind himself. Moving more quickly than one might think a man his size might be able to, Henry closed his fingers in his wife's hair and pulled her to him. I work my ass off day and night to support you, he growled, the smell of whiskey on his breath making Celia dizzy, and this is the thanks I get? I feed you, I clothe you, I put a roof over your head and for what? Burned suppers and chicken stew every night of the goddamn week! Celia felt her scalp burst into pain just before her face and knees did. Henry had thrown her across the room by her hair and she tumbled to her knees just before hitting her face on the doorjam. She cried out in pain as tears began to fall down her already bruised cheeks. Henry, please! There's a depression on, we ain't got much more than this! Dinner'll be ready soon. Just...just a few more minutes, sugar. It won't take long. Staggering to her feet, Celia took his arm gently and guided him through the kitchen to the living room. The furnishings here were sparse just a radio which Celia had turned on a few minutes ago, a rug, and an easy chair with an ottoman. Henry's easy chair. If Celia wanted to be in the living room she could sit on the floor or stand. After all, Henry reasoned, she didn't do anything all day and he was tired after a day's work so if she wanted to sit she could sit in the bedroom where she was most useful. The large, powerful-looking man sank into his easy chair and his diminutive wife knelt at his feet. Untying one boot then the other she pulled them off before massaging his feet then propping them up on the ottoman. Celia Jean, the wife-beater was fond of calling her by her first and middle name the way her father might if she were in trouble, you're a shit housekeeper and ya can't cook worth a damn, but ya do come in handy for some things. He chuckled and looked down at her, almost daring her with his eyes to ask what it was she was good at. You got some good hands, and that sweet little mouth'a yers always just looks ripe fer the pickin', don't it? Celia smiled softly and leaned her forehead against her husband's knee. Yes, Henry, she said quietly, looking for all the world as though she adored and worshipped him instead of hated him so much she was about to kill him. Since I already used my hands, maybe after dinner I can put my mouth ta work, huh? Henry chuckled and patted her head like one might pat a favorite dog. Sounds like a plan, honey. First you get that sweet ass in there and make me my dinner. He swatted her on the ass as she stood and turned to go back into the kitchen to make dinner. Once she was certain Henry was taking his usual pre-dinner nap, Celia walked calmly outside. She looked around, but couldn't see Willie as she checked the mailbox. All that had come were the usual bills. Taking the envelopes and looking around again, she walked back inside and waited. She had dished up a bowl of stew for herself, but left the pot cooking on the stove. She didn't intend to wake Henry for his dinner, and it could burn to ashes for all she cared now.