Never After

by Billie Dale

  He laughs off my praise of Ryan and stands, reaching out for my hand. Fusing my small one inside his, he pulls me off the ground right into his chest. “Would it be to forward to ask if you’d like to watch laying with me in the hammock?”

  Looking up into his eyes, his body pressed tight against mine, I’ve lost my ability to form words. I nod, and he leads us to the outside bed.

  I’ve never been in a hammock before. I grip one side and plop my body on the stretchy mesh as Royal warns me to wait. Too late. The damn thing wraps around me like a cocoon and I begin spinning around in a circle until it spits me out on the ground, knocking the air from my lungs and cartoon tweety birds flitter around my dizzy head.

  “Damn, are you alright?” Concern clouds his face, contradicting the humor filling his eyes. “I tried to stop you.”

  Rising to my feet, I brush the dirt off my backside while he shows me the proper way to use the damn thing. When we’re situated with my back pressed against his front, he presses the buttons on a remote and the movie begins to play with the sound rumbling out of the speakers surrounding us.

  We laugh at the funny parts, he hardens against my ass during the sex scenes and his palm grips tightly to my hip. I fight against the horny hussy inside telling me to wiggle my ass.

  When the film is over he drives me back home, being a gentleman and walking me to my door. I thank him for a phenomenal evening, and we set up another date. I see a battle waging in his eyes when we face off for the moment I’ve been waiting for since the second I met him, feeling his lips pressed to mine.

  My insides are cheering when he eases toward me but start throwing rotten tomatoes when he glides past my lips and grazes his lips across my cheek before jogging back to his truck and taking off.

  I spend the rest of the night searching my brain for something I missed. Unable to come up with any practical reasons, I give up the analysis for sleep.

  Thirteen

  While we set up for the live broadcast, I recount the entire night to Elsabeth, hoping she can help me understand what the hell is going on.

  “He’s an enigma wrapped in bullshit. It was him, Snow. I saw the name on the credit card,” she assures, breaking my thoughts of him having an evil twin.

  While she clicks away at the keyboard, I prepare myself in front of the camera, ensuring my mask is in place and my face mostly covered. “I don’t understand. Why didn’t he call me out, and why the hell did we not have sex? Do you think he didn’t know it was me?”

  “If I had the insight into the male mind, my husband wouldn’t be fucking my best friend in a tropical climate somewhere. Ask him if you really want to know. Lay it all out on the table. Either he knows it’s you and he’s playing some kind of game or he’s a perv who likes to get his rocks off on the internet instead of with a warm, willing pussy.”

  “Well don’t sugar coat it or anything Elsa,” I say, frowning to myself on the screen. I wonder what his game might be.

  “Motherfucker. Guess who’s first in line today? Plus, he wants to buy your entire block of time.”

  “What? No! I can’t stay on with him for hours.”

  “No, he only wants the thirty minutes but he’s willing to pay for the full four hours.”

  I’m tired of playing the fool. Royal wants a show, then I shall perform. Sliding my robe from my shoulders, I nod to Elsa. With a few clicks, his handsome face fills my screen.

  She didn’t tell me what he requested for this session, lowering my voice to give it a husky tone and keep it from sounding like me, I ask him what he wants.

  A knowing smile turns his lips wide, his hand rubs along his bearded chin. A chilling wind rustles across my skin, drawing my nipples to peaks and pebbling my flesh with goosebumps. His eyes devour me, his focus so intense it’s like he’s in the room caressing me with his hands. No customer has ever made me wait, they all know what they want and utilize the time allotted. Royal continues to think, his elbows propped on some surface beyond the camera’s view, his face resting on his hands, the minute's tick by.

  Anticipation has me antsy. Squirming on the bedspread, wringing my hands in front of my bare stomach, nerves eating at me. I wait and wait some more. His mossy eyes lidded, framed by long dark lashes. His breath is in pants rattling through the speakers, and the sound of his hand caressing his beard melds with the air leaving his lungs. The fire in his stare traces my skin, and his tongue wets his dry plump lips, but he still doesn’t speak. Channeling my inner hooker, I pull up my big girl panties or I guess it’s more accurate to say I take off my panties, slide my bra down my arms reveling in the pressure against my flesh. My body so heightened the slightest touch could set me off. Sitting with him in the silence, knowing how warm he is, how succulent he smells is pure torture. Patience is not one of my strengths.

  Angling my hips toward the screen, skimming my fingers in a trail from my hip to my breast, I ask again. “Have you decided what you’d like, Handsome? Time’s running out?”

  His arm is moving in a swaying motion, I hadn’t noticed before. His gaze still consuming every inch I’ve exposed. The clock ticks to its last minutes, his sway becoming less fluid and more erratic. He grunts a string of curse words and his movement slows, his eyes become lidded and his pupils engulf the liquid green.

  “Sometimes, Bright Eyes, looking is better than touching.” Sluggish and satisfied his voice carries through the empty space as the timer ticks its final seconds and the screen blinks to black.

  What the hell was that? I made an entire days’ worth of money and all he wanted to do was look at me? Plus, he used my name again. “AHHHHH!” My frustration bellows out bringing Elsa running back in the room.

  “Mother..., woman put some damn clothes on. I don’t want to see all your pasty white skin.” Covering her eyes, she waits for my signal letting her know I’m covered.

  My crotch is packing a bag, threatening to close-up shop and leave me. My hormones would rank higher than any earthquake on the Richter scale, and I’m frustrated and confounded by this man.

  Neither Elsa or I can figure out what the hell he’s doing. Leaving her to clean up, I take the long route home, using the drive to think. My brain is analyzing every encounter, on and off the screen and I can’t come up with any deductions that make sense.

  Pulling into my driveway, Royal’s Jeep catches my eye. Hell, his vehicle is hard to miss sitting alongside the road, incognito is not his style. He slips out, meeting me at my door. Placing a chaste kiss on my forehead. “Your flushed Bright Eyes.” No duh, Sherlock., “Are you feeling alright?” Fuck no I’m not. I need to get laid, I want to climb your body like a tree and plunge your limb inside.

  Shrugging away from his touch, I don’t miss his face crinkling in confusion. Welcome to my world buddy. However, even as I bubble with frustration, he follows me inside. The kids won’t be home until late, so it’s just this man with more personalities than Sybil and me.

  He offers to order dinner, and since I haven’t gone to the store all week, I accept. Compartmentalizing my frustration, we spend the evening watching season one of Stranger Things because he hasn’t discovered the craziness of the Upside Down.

  Curled up on my piece of shit couch with springs stabbing us in the ass, his hand resting on my thigh while my head lays on his chest listening to his heart thud inside. My inner voice screams for me to ask, find out what the hell is going on. My hands itch to feel his bare skin, kiss his lips, feel his warmth slide inside me. The insecurity living within me overrules, and I keep my questions to myself.

  Fourteen

  One month later....

  “Today’s the day,” Elsa chants as we cross town to meet Royal’s friend whose showing us a few buildings.

  I can’t join in her enthusiasm. My brain is bogged down with all the puzzle pieces of the man himself. If I could only click all the edges together and step back to see the big picture, I know it would all make sense.

  We’ve been dating for a month, seeing each o
ther at least three times a week in person. This is the great, exciting part of dating. He has yet to even kiss my lips. The darker side is we’ve also been seeing each other three times a week on my computer screen. He has bought each session for the last four weeks, spending an obscene amount of money. Each tryst ends with him calling out my pet name and coming all over his hand. Some I take part with but most I simply lay there, watching and becoming so sexually frustrated I’m afraid I’m going to walk around humping air. Thanks to his money, we have reached our goal and are ready to buy the bar.

  We park across the street from the address, the building in question situated between a bakery and an antique store found in a busy section of town. Being between two shops with daytime hours is ideal. There would be no one to bitch about late night loud music and rowdy people.

  A bear of a man steps from the front door of what we hope is our soon to be business. He’s all broad shoulders, tall, arms large enough they don’t lay flush with his sides. As we move closer to him, where I thought he was bald is instead a close-shaved head of platinum snowy hair. I didn’t think it was possible for a person to have lighter hair than Elsa, but his is albino white. His eyes are glacial blue, a crisp deep shade of azure unlike any I’ve ever seen. Clean shaven or his stubble so light it’s almost invisible, towering over us his entire face lights with a childlike grin when he spots us. He’s the anti-Dewayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson. Where the wrestler is all dark skin, hair and eyes this man is light and fair, but he could be his polar twin. His hand holds onto Elsabeth a smidge longer than mine, unfazed by the chill of her skin.

  “Hello ladies, I’m Jack. You must be Snowy and Elsabeth.” His voice matches his enormous size, deep and rough. “Come, come, let’s take a look,” he offers, waving a sweeping motion with his hand while his other opens the door.

  The inside is rough. The hardwood floors need replaced but the ceiling is silver stainless-steel beams and the bare bones are solid. With some love and care, this place will be marvelous. He points out the steel of the structure with his eyes trained on Elsa.

  Confusion must show on my face, so Elsa is quick to explain the significance. “Stainless-steel doesn’t rust. I can cover it with as much ice as I want, and it won’t hurt it.”

  Jack motions for us to head through toward the back. “I froze a small section in the back when I knew you were coming to prove it will stand up to the harshest conditions,” he calls over his shoulder.

  “W-what do you mean you froze it?”

  I’ve never heard Elsabeth Delle sound so small. Her voiced question so low I’m not sure Jack heard her; she’s always loud and bossy. Seeing her demure with her head angled down, a blush creeping across her cheeks, has me tilting my head to the side to watch her with wonder.

  A cocked knowing grin flitters across his face before he begins to twirl his meaty hand in the air creating swirling snowflakes before opening his palm and releasing a blast of ice coating a lone chair sitting in the middle of the room.

  My head whips from Jack to the ice to Elsa, her mouth gaped and eyes bulging. Walking to the frozen spot, my hand chills when I touch the solid water. “How did you do that?”

  Laughing he shakes his head. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “T-t-tell us what?” Her voice shakes, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

  “I’m Jack Frost.”

  “You mean The Jack Frost? The bad guy in those Christmas cartoons? The man responsible for winter?” I can’t believe Royal didn’t tell me who he was. I guess it doesn’t much matter to me, but I’m thinking it matters to Elsa.

  “Pfft,” he huffs, “Those stories are bullshit. I’m just a man who can create ice and snow.”

  “W-we have to go,” Elsa stammers, gripping my hand she rushes us out the door, to the car and is zooming away before Jack can utter a word. He’s the perfect man for my friend and I’m certain she knows. It’s also the precise reason we’re running away at the speed of light.

  We ride in silence back to my place, keeping the quiet until were inside and she’s pacing back and forth along the length of the space, mumbling to herself. I pick out words here and there in her rambling, him, ice and impossible. A blizzard is brewing in the small area surrounding her. Wind whips her hair and snow begins to pile at her feet. I call out to her, but she’s lost inside her head, so I step in her path and grip her frigid hands between mine. “ELSABETH, stop.”

  Tears build on her lids before turning to ice as they hit her cheeks, the storm brewing fades. “He set this up. Royal, he knew. Somehow, someway. Did you tell him what I can do?”

  “No, I’ve never said you could freeze things. What’s the big deal? It’s a good thing, Jack’s perfect for you.”

  “You’d never understand, Snow,” she huffs. “My husband compared me to the pole the kid gets his tongue stuck to in A Christmas Story. He told me my pussy was an ice trap, and he was afraid his dick was going to get stuck or freeze off. The last few years we were married he refused to have sex with me. Hell, he wouldn’t even sleep in the same bed, and he bitched about me being too cold.”

  “No.” Wrapping my arms around her in the tightest hug I can, cringing from the cold but unwilling to let her go. “Your strong, independent and without you, I would be crying in my Cheerios about my pathetic life. He left because of him, not you. He had to make you feel bad to justify his shitty actions.” She steps away from me, I shiver as my body tries to thaw.

  “I lost control of my power when he left. I’m sorry I’ve put the whole internet thing on you, but I couldn’t risk doing any damage to the equipment. You really think Jack and I could work?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. I do. Even though your both polar, the heat between you could be felt in the air.”

  “He is pretty damn hot,” straightening her shoulders I once again see the fierce woman I’ve come to know. “I’ll call him. I must anyway to tell him we want the building. We do want the building, right?”

  Clapping my hands together, I bob my head unable to hold the joy inside.

  “Make sure you thank Royal for me?”

  I groan, all the earlier glee drains right out of my body and I plop down on the dilapidated sofa.

  “After the pep talk you dumped on me, what’s with the mopey face?”

  Tears fill my eyes, “I can’t see it working out with him. I’m unable to confront him about the whole sex thing, and he’s not offering up any answers to my unasked questions. I mean I’m living in a fairytale, right? He hasn’t even kissed me yet. Name one person who ever gets a real happy to their ever after.” Sadness brews within me. I think I’m falling in love with Royal, but my heart can’t handle another relationship built on deceit.

  She flops down next to me, deep in thought before snapping her fingers with an a-ha grin on her face. “Cinder-fucking-Ella. That bitch over on Pumpkin Lane; it worked for her. Her husband bolted, left her ass in a pile a debt and Prince Charming came along and swept her off her feet. Voila, mother fucking happy ever after.”

  “Yeah, but I’m no Cinderella.”

  “No, you’re right. Your Snowy goddamn Whitaker and karma will circle back around in your favor, but you need to nudge it a little. You’re going to have to talk to him, show him all fifty-one cards and hope he plays the last one to complete the deck. Honey, a real man will ruin your lipstick, not your mascara.”

  With those words sending me deep in my thoughts she leaves, and I spend the rest of the night staring at my ceiling rehearsing conversations in my head. No matter what scenario I play out, none end with me and Royal together. Though like the tick-tock of the timer on my live webcast, our time is up, and even though our relationship may crumble like an over baked cookie, it’s time to find the truth. I’ve lived with lies for too long, now I must reveal my hand and hope he’s been showing one hell of a poker face all this time.

  Fifteen

  We’ve been sitting in his backyard for over an hour, and though I’ve rehearsed my words a million times in my head
, to the point I’ve missed part of our conversation, I can’t seem to scrape them off my tongue and push them through my lips.

  There’s no clever way to start the talk I want to have with him.

  Hey, how’s your sex life, had any hot internet sex lately? To the point, but maybe a tad too forward.

  You know the woman you like to stare at while you jerk off online? Yeah, it’s me. A little too vulgar for me.

  Met any great online women lately? Shit, I don’t want to know if he’s screwing around with anyone else, so this won’t work.

  Since we’ve already gotten off together, can we be in the same room this time? Gets to my point but no way I can force these words to come out.

  Now you see my problem?

  He’s so delicious sitting hip to hip next to me with his long legs stretched out in front of him, his arm muscles tight from leaning back on his hands and his scent fresh, succulent and all man. An electric current flows between his body and mine, a heat coating my exposed skin. His mouth keeps my attention as he speaks, opening while he eats and sinks his teeth into a piece of fruit, his tongue licking the juice from his pouty bottom lip. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be grape juice in this second.

  “Snowy?”

  “Huh?” I give a slight shake to dispel my thoughts.

  Sitting up, he crosses his legs Indian style with his body turned to me. “You’re distracted tonight. Is there something you want to talk about? Are your kids okay?”

  Mirroring his position and situating my sundress over my legs, I nibble on the corner of my lip and study his concerned expression. Here goes nothin’.

  “So, ah, we met with your friend Jack. I think we have the best building for the bar.”

  Squeezing my hands between his hot palms, he gives me a radiant smile. “That’s wonderful. I knew he’d be able to help.”