Confessions From the Dark

by T. B. Markinson

  “Podcast? When did you get with the twenty-first century?” Sam hoisted herself out of the water and sat on the lip of the tub, splashing her feet.

  “Oh, it wasn’t by choice. Somehow Cori got embroiled in a social media spat and now she has to make nice.” Kat repositioned, allowing a jet to blast her lower back and letting out a sigh.

  “Embroiled! Someone created a fake account, pretending to be me. I’m not making nice because I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “That’s right. The G-Dawg thing.” Sam slipped back into the water. “Are you sure it wasn’t really you?” The grooves in her brow made it clear she wanted to get a rise out of me.

  “How could I? Harold and Kat locked me out of all my social media accounts.”

  “You invited all your fans to an orgy.” Kat mopped steam off her forehead with a towel.

  “I did not. I just mentioned I would be signing books at Moggies—a bookstore. My phone autocorrected to orgies.”

  Sam biffed the back of my head. “Didn’t you proofread?”

  “I have editors for that.” I rubbed my head. “Jesus, have you been working out?”

  She flexed her bicep.

  “Now I take care of all her tweets and blog posts.” Harold thwacked his scrawny fish-belly white chest as if he just harpooned a white whale.

  “We wouldn’t be able to survive without you.” Kat’s glare silenced my comeback.

  “Harold, where are the women?” Sam asked.

  The question piqued my attention.

  “Returning Christmas gifts and buying new ones.” His smirk didn’t have the same confidence as earlier.

  “I’m starting to feel dissed.” Sam wasn’t teasing.

  Harold swatted the idea away. “Not true. They’re just busy all the time.”

  Without you.

  From the looks on the other three faces, I wasn’t the only one thinking it.

  “Do they spend a lot of time alone?” Sam asked.

  I sensed Lucy had kicked her shin, but with the noise of the jets and all the bubbles, it was hard to determine. However, Sam shot Lucy a look that meant Do that again and I’ll coldcock you.

  “They like their girl time, and neither is into football,” he said in his most self-assured tone, but his eyes shone with reservations.

  “I wasn’t aware you liked football.” The words slipped out of my mouth. Kat elbowed me in the gut.

  “Is the game on yet?” Sam asked, a little too quickly.

  “We’ll check. And we need to put your robes in the dryer.” Kat stood and put a hand out for me. Her sheepish smile indicated she wanted to talk to me alone.

  I shivered as my feet hit the tiled floor of the laundry room, and then I reached into the dryer and handed Kat a toasty robe before slipping into mine. Kat pulled three clean robes off wall pegs, each marked with a Kat rendition of the owner, and tossed them into the dryer, setting the timer for ten minutes.

  “Let’s put the lasagnas in,” she commanded.

  I dutifully followed her and waited as she placed casserole dishes on the top and bottom racks of the ovens. Without turning around, she said, “Yes, you were the last to know.”

  “How long has everyone known?” I slouched against the far counter and tightened the robe.

  “Several weeks now. Harold longer.” She extracted a bottle of cava from the freezer and placed it in the fridge.

  I snorted. “Why?”

  “I wanted to know it was a sure thing. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Sadness slumped her shoulders. “We’ve had a tough year.”

  That was an understatement. When we’d decided to get pregnant, it was hard to pinpoint who was more excited, my family or Kat and me. Even Uncle Roger couldn’t stop talking about it. We had used my egg. The first two attempts didn’t take; the third did. And then the accident happened.

  Now we weren’t sure if we’d ever have a family. A living one.

  “Come here.” I spread my arms out and Kat buried her head in my chest.

  “I’m okay, really. We have guests.” She didn’t budge from my arms.

  “Don’t worry. They’re good at entertaining themselves. Sam has probably tied Harold to a post and is ripping pages out of his book and tossing them into the tub.”

  Kat laughed and wiped her eyes on my robe. “They’ve been wonderful friends since…”

  “That they have. And I’m sure we can convince them to visit.”

  Kat drew back. “I think you need to know something else.”

  “About London?”

  “Yes. Harold’s coming with us.” Her eyes never left mine.

  A smile burst onto my face. “Of course he is! No wonder he’s rereading Neverwhere. He’s probably memorizing every page and plans to ferry us through London’s Underground, recreating the story. Not to mention wandering through London streets will help with his World War II series. I really hope Mom can come through for him.”

  “You aren’t mad?”

  “I could never be mad at you.” I flicked a tear off her cheek and cradled her chin. “I love you, and I’m so proud of you for scoring this opportunity. You remember how many times you talked me off the ledge when I couldn’t finish my first novel. You’ve always supported and believed in me. And I support and believe in you. We make a great team, and we’re going to love London. Hell, I’d move to Zimbabwe if you asked me.”

  “Zimbabwe! Not sure I can outrun a leopard.” Frivolity replaced some of the sadness in her eyes. “I’m betting I’m faster than Harold, though.”

  “That’s the spirit.”

  “I checked. Paris is only a two-hour train ride away.” Kat cupped her ear. “Do you hear that? The Louvre is calling my name.”

  I groaned playfully. “How many museums are you going to drag me through?”

  “None with that attitude.”

  “I’m not easy to shake and you’re easy to spot in a crowd. I just have to keep an eye on all the heads turning at whiplash speed.” I jutted my head to the patio door. “You ready to go back out?”

  “I think we should get dressed first. I don’t want Harold to have a coronary, and I think Sam’s in enough hot water these days.” She led me to our bedroom, where I changed into jeans and a lightweight sweater. Kat’s skinny jeans and scoop neck, long-sleeved shirt were anything but tame.

  I whistled. “Not sure that’s much better.”

  “Should I change?”

  “Never. Promise me you’ll never change.”

  “This outfit or my style?”

  “At the moment, I’m voting for both.” I winked. “Come on, or they’ll turn into prunes.” I grabbed the robes from the dryer.

  ***

  “About time. I thought for sure you two were having a quickie in the laundry room.” Sam raised her beer.

  “Really?” Harold squeaked.

  I helped each one out while Kat wrapped them up in robes.

  Inside, after changing into dry clothes, everyone reported to their battle stations. Sam and Harold reconnoitered in the front room to get the TV on the right channel. Not sure it took two people, but Harold was pretty much useless in the kitchen and Sam anointed herself Mrs. Technology.

  “All right, give me the meat.” Lucy held her palms out. She manned the grill ever since I’d gotten so distracted by a Sox game two summers ago that I’d burned all of the burgers and brats beyond recognition.

  “Wow. Never thought I’d hear you say that, Luce.” Kat’s mischievous grin returned.

  “Oh, she says it to me all the time.” Sam scooted by and snatched a beer from the cooler on the back deck. “And, oh boy, do I—”

  I nudged Sam with an elbow. “Mind the children please.”

  Harold’s mouth dangled open like a German shepherd’s waiting for a raw steak. “Do what?”

  “I’ll fill you in later, Harold, when Mom goes to bed.” Sam jerked her thumb in my direction.

  “Don’t
mind Cori. She’s a prude and assumes everyone else is. Totally different story when we’re alone.” Kat pinched my cheek before opening the fridge to pull out the hot dogs and burgers. Even though we had lasagnas in the oven, Kat’s idea, it wasn’t natural to watch college ball without proper tailgate food.

  “What’s the score?” I leaned over the counter, facing the dining/front room, giving all of them my best side. Sam nodded for me to join her on the couch.

  When the coast was clear, Sam whispered, “Is Kat okay? Your text was brief.”

  “Isn’t that the purpose of texts?” I rubbernecked over my shoulder. Kat and Harold were deep in conversation in the kitchen. “She’s doing better. We executed an Operation Cheesecake,” I whispered.

  Sam squeezed my thigh. “Damn, I missed it. I’m so so so sorry. I had no idea Carol and Steve would bring Abby.”

  Abby. I never even thought to ask the girl’s name.

  I puckered my lips to hold my emotions in check. “There’s nothing to apologize for.”

  We remained silent, neither of us watching the game, just pretending to.

  “Can you meet me after work tomorrow?” Sam asked.

  “Briefly. We have an early flight the next morning. What’s up?”

  Sam stealthily peeked into the kitchen, where only Kat and Harold stood. Lucy was still outside, but the glass door was ajar. “Nothing really, it’s just…” She shrugged as a way to postpone the conversation until tomorrow.

  “Gotcha. Near your work? I have to pop into my office tomorrow anyway.” I didn’t, but I felt bad about making her schlep out to Brighton after a grueling day in the office. Sam’s finance job was full-on, ten to twelve hours five days a week.

  “Yeah, is Revere’s okay?”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Kat parked herself on the arm of the couch.

  “Not S-E-X.” Sam forced a giggle.

  I stared at the television. With one look at my face, Kat would smell a rat and hound me to spill the beans, even if I didn’t have any beans to spill. Not yet, at least.

  “Right. I’ll leave you to it.” Kat kissed the top of my head.

  “Quick, give me a cover story for when she asks later.”

  Sam whipped her head around. “Aren’t you the writer? You make up stories for a living.”

  “Trust me, Kat has some kind of voodoo magic. She knows when I’m making up shit and not leveling with her.”

  “Tell her I’m thinking of getting a puppy.”

  “A puppy… you’re never home!” I shook my head. “Horrible idea!”

  Sam blinked and shook her head. “I’m not actually getting one, ya moron!” She whacked my leg. “That’s the cover story.”

  “Oh, right. It’s weak, but that may make it better.” I stared at the ceiling. “I can work with that.”

  “You’re weak,” she teased.

  “Really? Care to make a friendly wager?”

  “Yeah, let’s arm wrestle. Loser has to convince Harold to bring Amber and Simone to a dinner party. I’m not buying that they always have plans.”

  “Bring it.” I pushed myself off the couch.

  We marched to the dining room table behind the couch and cleared some of the platters to the hutch along the back wall.

  “What are you two up to now?” Lucy demanded. She stood in the kitchen, with the barbeque tongs under her arm, rubbing her hands for warmth near the ovens.

  Neither of us answered. Sam made a show of stretching her arms before placing her elbow on the table, game face firmly fixed, ready to battle.

  “Arm wrestling? Seriously?” Kat’s countenance was amused and annoyed.

  Harold took charge, placing his palm over our clasped hands. “On my mark.” He eyed Sam and then me. “Go!”

  Our muscles tightened and strained.

  “You aren’t in high school anymore, Sam,” Lucy called before heading back outside to the grill. She left the door open to observe, though. The grill was just off to the side of the door, so Lucy wouldn’t freeze to death.

  Kat huffed. “As a former cheerleader and basketball jock, we should have known these two would never grow up. Not completely.” She leaned against the counter, arms crossed, engrossed in our dual.

  Sam’s arm started to make headway. I groaned and put all my might into pulling my arm away from the table.

  “Nice manicure, princess,” I said.

  “Not going to work. You aren’t getting into my head.” Sam’s face tensed, but the determination in her glare intimidated me. “P90X, baby.”

  “Buying workout DVDs doesn’t actually build muscle.”

  “I don’t just own them. I live by them. Can’t you tell?” Her bicep tightened.

  Harold clasped his hands and rocked on his feet. “Come on, Sam. You almost have her.”

  “Never going to happen.” With a surge of energy, I wrenched our arms back to the starting point.

  “Maybe you should hit the gym again. Not just run. Or you could borrow my DVDs,” Sam taunted.

  “Please. I do fifty push-ups before you’re even out of bed.”

  I could sense Kat’s eye roll. She never understood my competitiveness, but she had never competed in anything—not even tee-ball. How un-American. Kat sauntered over, leaned down, and whispered in my ear, “Save your strength for later.”

  Sam sensed her moment and slammed my arm all the way down. “Winner!” She threw her arms up in the air.

  Harold cupped his mouth, announcing, “And the 2015 arm-wrestling champion is Samantha Clarke!” He made crowd noises.

  Lucy and Kat laughed.

  “Cheater.” I pouted.

  “Such a sore loser.” Sam strutted to Lucy, who was still standing in the open door, for a victory kiss.

  Kat took pity on me and kissed me.

  “What about me?” Harold whined. Both Sam and Lucy pounced and pecked a cheek, which made him blush.

  “Dogs are ready, in case anyone is interested.” Lucy plucked the plump franks off the grill and held one aloft with tongs. “Just the right amount of char, don’t ya think, Cori?”

  “You are the grill master.” I bowed.

  Everyone laughed, putting the arm wrestling fiasco behind us. I locked eyes on Kat, who flashed a smile. This last year would have been miserable without the support of each and every one of them.

  Kat poured cava into crystal flutes with pale purple stems. “Come, everyone. I want to make a toast.”

  Lucy came inside and leaned against Sam.

  Kat handed out the drinks, raised her glass, and simply said, “To friends.”

  ***

  When I waltzed into the spacious master bedroom later that night, after all the guests had beat it, I found Kat sprawled naked on the king-sized bed, waiting for me.

  I skidded to a stop in the middle of the room and palmed my head. “Holy fuck, I’ve died and gone to heaven.” I was at least four feet from the bed, and the only light came from the candles flickering around the room. Despite that, Kat’s goodies were plain as day.

  “You like?” she purred, spreading her legs to show me the money spot.

  “Yes, me like very much.” I didn’t move, enjoying the view.

  “Sometimes it’s hard to believe you’re an English teacher.” She sniggered.

  “What can I say? Your beauty knocks proper English right out of my head.”

  “Ah, you say the sweetest things. You going to just stand there?”

  “Give me a sec. I’m doing my best to permanently etch this vision into my memory bank.” I tapped the side of my noggin.

  “Is that so?”

  I nodded, feasting on her nakedness. Kat watched with a curious grin. Then she decided to play along. With both hands, she kneaded her breasts, and my sharp intake of breath only encouraged her. She played with one of her nipples until it hardened, all the while still massaging the other breast.

  One hand trailed down her toned stom
ach and across her mound of pubic hair. She lazily raked her fingers through it.

  I was fairly certain my eyes were boggling more than Harold’s had earlier in the evening when Kat had leaned down to pick up a dropped tortilla chip and her tits made a brief, albeit memorable, appearance.

  “You enjoying the show, sweetheart?” Kat lifted an impish eyebrow.

  Like a teenage geek who’d never seen a naked woman, I could only nod. I was curious to see how far she would take it, and I didn’t want to interfere with the magical moment. No one else in the world had front row seats to Kat Finn, artist extraordinaire, pleasuring herself.

  I licked my lips.

  “Pull up a chair. This could take a while,” she instructed.

  Without taking my eyes off her roaming hand, I yanked a black antique stool from Kat’s makeup table in the corner and placed it at the foot of the bed. The perfect spot for the show.

  Kat spread her legs further.

  I rubbed my forehead.

  “I love the look on your face,” she said in a breathy tone. “It’s like you’ve never seen me naked before.”

  “It feels like that each and every time. God, Kat, how’d I get so lucky?”

  She smiled.

  Her fingers continued to rake her pubic hair. She knew I wanted more. Oh God, I wanted more. I wanted Kat to full-on fuck herself.

  “Tell me how turned on you are,” she demanded.

  I opened my legs. “I’m surprised you can’t see the wetness from there. I’m already gushing, and I haven’t even laid a finger on you yet.”

  “Show me.” A finger slid over her clit, and she moaned.

  It wasn’t difficult to guess where this was going. Excitement pinged through my body.

  I stood and shucked my jeans and panties.

  “I can’t see. The shirt has to go.”

  That wasn’t a problem.

  “Go on,” Kat said after I tore the powder blue Adam’s T-shirt and black satin bra off and tossed the items on top of my Gap jeans on the floor.

  I sat back down on the cream satin cushion and spread my legs for her to take a gander.

  “Ah, you are turned on. You’re glistening,” she purred. As my reward, Kat spread her lips with one hand and dipped a finger inside momentarily.