by Nella Tyler
“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked him, her voice concerned, but loving.
“I’m much better, in many ways,” he told her, a grin underscoring his words.
“Shame on you. I might even think that you pretended that whole thing just to get me into your bed.” She teased him, knowing he would understand.
“Would that have been such a horrible thing?”
“No, I guess not. After all, I did come in here willingly.”
“Yes, you certainly did, and I’m very glad for it. Thanks to your ministrations, I’m feeling much better this morning. Though, I do hope not all your patients get that kind of treatment,” he teased. “I’m going to leave you to your morning ritual while I go into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.”
With that, he crossed the room, still naked, and disappeared down the hallway. Gilda sat there momentarily, the image of his muscular buttocks making her feel warm in remembrance. With a sigh, she rolled from the bed and found her way into the shower and then dressed in her clothes.
By the time she made it to the kitchen, Cole was standing before the broad windows of the living room, a cup of coffee in one hand and his manhood strong and erect before him. She came closer and as he turned, she could feel herself salivate at the sight of him. She could not help herself, but came close to him and knelt before him, taking his penis into her mouth.
Cole’s knees wanted to buckle, and he almost dropped the cup of coffee. As it was, he managed to set it quickly down on a nearby table and then put his hands on the back of her head as she fed off of him, the motion exciting him beyond belief.
“No, not like this,” he told her, his hands beneath her arms pulling her upward until she stood before him. He opened her pants and pushed them down, picking her up and laying her on the couch so that her legs were splayed wide. He bent over her long enough to kiss her deeply and then entered her, gentle and aware that she would still be tender from the night before.
Over and over and over, Cole pushed into her, sliding out slowly to the point of near removal before plunging deep, firmly but gently, once again. Gilda’s head rolled from side to side with the sensations, and her right leg fought to lay over the sofa’s back so that she might be more fully opened to him.
Cole continued until he felt her begin to swell and shudder in her orgasm. He let go then, filling her with his seed, and when it was over, he laid upon her, carefully supporting the bulk of his weight on his arm.
“Gilda…” he began, but she quickly threw her hand up over his mouth.
“Don’t say it, please. Remember the rule.”
“But…”
She laid her hand quickly over his mouth again and shook her head. “No, please don’t say it; don’t ruin everything. It’s too soon — too soon, Cole.”
Even though he knew what he wanted to say, he understood that she wasn’t ready to hear it. Therefore, he kissed the palm of her hand and held his silence. Later, when the glow had faded and they began to rise from the sofa, Gilda spoke.
“Cole, I want you to know, I know what you were going to say. I want to say the same thing, but I can’t, not yet. Please try to understand. Last night with you was beautiful, something I’ve never known before. I have to leave now. It has nothing to do with you, but I have to go.”
He opened his mouth, but realized he would be breaking one of the rules if he pushed and closed it quickly, nodding and then coming close to kiss her. “I understand. I understand better than you know.”
She picked up her things and headed toward the elevator. “Let me call you this time,” she said. “You should go back to bed and rest some more. You have training tomorrow, and you’ll need your full strength. I’ll call you this evening, I promise.”
He nodded and walked her to the elevator and they smiled as they realized that he was standing there stark naked. Somehow, it all seemed so very normal, though. He kissed her once more before the elevator doors closed and then he returned to bed.
Gilda practically floated out of the building and into the taxi that the doorman called for her. The city never seemed so beautiful as it did that morning on her way home. Even the lack of direct sunshine was unnoticed. The huge display windows seemed to sparkle like diamonds. People, who were normally dour and angry, seemed to be smiling. Even the leaves on the trees seemed to be waving at her as she drove by.
There didn’t seem to be anything in the world that could go awry at that moment.
When she arrived at the apartment house, she unlocked the door and went inside, calling Carson’s name. He didn’t come as he normally did, running down the stairs and throwing himself into her arms. Mrs. Crutcher appeared to her right, just outside of the small parlor that was maintained for visitors. “Oh, Gilda, there is someone here to see you,” Mrs. Crutcher said.
Puzzled, Gilda removed her coat and threw it, along with her purse, on the entry table. She walked into the parlor and her mouth opened. There sat Scott, with Carson sitting on his lap. Gilda felt ill.
Chapter 20
When Gilda recovered, Mrs. Crutcher’s worried face blocked her view. As she gathered her thoughts, she felt the stiffening terror return and hoped that when Mrs. Crutcher moved, her memory would be proven wrong — but Mrs. Crutcher did move and her memory proved accurate. Scott sat there in the parlor of the very place she had escaped to, and what was more, their son was seated on his lap.
He had not moved to help her to her feet from where she had fallen in shock, although she hadn’t really expected him to. Carson, however, leapt from his lap and wrapped his chubby arms around Gilda’s head. “Mama, Mama! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, darling. Mama is just fine. Mrs. Crutcher, would you take Carson upstairs with you so that I might speak with this man?”
Mrs. Carson nodded, taking Carson by the hand and waddling slowly up the stairs. “I’m leaving my door open. You call me if you need me!” she called over her shoulder.
Gilda sat up and let the dizziness settle before she stood. She walked over to the front door and opened it, saying, “You were just leaving.”
Scott chuckled, a sound she had hoped she would never hear again in her entire life. “I’m not going anywhere just yet. But you mind telling me where you’ve been all night? According to Carson, you don’t sleep here at home anymore.”
She knew he was baiting her by dragging Carson into the conversation. He knew her greatest fear and that would be the button he’d push.
“What do you want?” she asked him as she slammed the door.
“I thought I might come for a visit.” He pretended to examine his fingernails as he waited for her reaction. Gilda’s stomach felt sick as her mind whirled, trying to come up with the magic words that would make him leave.
“There’s nothing here for you. We are divorced. You do not have visitation rights, remember? That was part of the deal. Now, get up out of that chair and get your lazy ass out of my home or I’m calling the police.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, as it happens, I have just as much right to be here as you do.” There was a smirk on his face that told her he was up to no good.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, it seems that your Mrs. Crutcher had an extra room that was vacant. Well, it’s not any longer. I live here now.”
His words knocked the wind out of Gilda. In her darkest hours, she could not have imagined a situation such as this. It defied her ability to think straight. She gathered her things and started up the stairs toward Mrs. Crutcher’s apartment.
Once inside the door, she closed it firmly and turned to her landlady. “He tells me you rented him an apartment?”
Mrs. Crutcher’s head was shaking. “I didn’t know who he was until it was too late.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you but I wish you hadn’t done that. Carson…” she looked at the boy, “go on down to our apartment and lock the door behind you. Go straight there and don’t talk to anyone, especially that man downstairs.”
Gilda thought she would vomit on the spot. This was her worst nightmare. She had moved a thousand miles into a giant city with no job and no friends in order to escape a maniac and here he was, sleeping on the other side of the wall from her. And what was worse, Carson knew all about it. “Do as I tell you, son,” she choked out.
“Mrs. Crutcher, you know I love you and I don’t blame you for this. You had no way of knowing. But please, don’t ever, ever let Carson be alone with him. He does not have visitation rights, and I’m afraid he might kidnap Carson. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but it may be drastic.”
With that, she turned and went back downstairs to the parlor where Scott was waiting, a sickly smile pasted across his face.
“So?” He sat forward onto the end of his seat. “I wasn’t lying, was I?”
“How did you find me?”
He stood and walked over to a library table that sat before the front windows. He reached inside his jacket and extracted an envelope which he threw on the table. Gilda took three steps closer to look at it and her heart sank as she saw that she had sabotaged herself. There, as plain as day, was the envelope with the return address of the New York City Police Department Headquarters. Down and to the right of the return address, in her very own handwriting, was the word “Mama.”
Gilda threw her hand across her heart. She had, in her own stupidity, given Scott exactly what he needed: a map to find her.
Her thoughts began to flame as she relived the recurring nightmare in which she always was trying to elude someone chasing her. She knew in her heart it was Scott, and she was intent on outwitting him. And there, on the library table, was the proof that she had outwitted herself. “We’ll see about this,” she said.
Gilda half ran, half tripped up the stairs to her apartment, and she let herself inside and double-locked the door behind. The empty apartment Scott had rented was next door to her own. It was one door only away. She leaned against her door, trying to gather her thoughts and come up with an escape plan.
There was absolutely no way that she could remain there. Scott would bide his time, and eventually, he would take Carson and she might never see him again. That would be worse than death. It meant she could lose her child.
“Carson, do as Mama tells you now and don’t argue or ask questions. I want you to pull that old suitcase out from under your bed. I want you to put everything from your closet and drawers into it, mash it down real good, okay? If it doesn’t all fit, then get rid of the clothes from summer. Keep your winter clothes and don’t forget to pack your toothbrush.”
“Are we going somewhere, Mama?” Carson asked her.
“I said don’t ask any questions. Just do as I say and do it now.”
Gilda sprang into action, pulling a second suitcase out from the back of her closet. With very little planning, she packed as much she could into its confines. She pulled a second container, a plastic file box with a handle, from the closet, as well. From this she pulled the cash she kept hidden, Carson’s birth certificate, and whatever important papers she could quickly find into the suitcase. She pulled several layers of clothes out and put them on, one over another. It would keep her warm, but it wouldn’t keep her from shaking. Shock had already begun to set in.
“Carson?” she called the boy, but not too loudly. She didn’t want Scott to hear that she was upset. “Come on in here and let’s have some dinner. Then, I’m going to let you watch TV, really late. We’ll make this a special day, do you hear?”
Carson nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
“Now, go on in there and wash your hands. I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes.”
When Carson left the room, Gilda sprang into action, going through the cupboards to throw together a sizable meal. It might have to last them for some time. She decided to make spaghetti; its fragrant aroma was something Carson adored and would calm her nerves, as well.
The smell of garlic and tomato wafted beneath her apartment door and evidently, Scott picked up on it. There was a knock at her door and she opened it, leaving the chain in place. Scott stood there.
“What do you want?” she asked him. He looked pretty much the same as he had four years earlier when she left, except his skin was pasty and his nose red from liquor.
“That smells pretty good. I haven’t had the chance to get to the store yet. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra plate, would you?” His hand raised, and he began to push against the door.
“No!” Gilda slammed the door; she heard him chuckle as she did so. She heard him go back into his room and she hoped, for the first time in her life, that he had booze in there. If he started drinking soon, he would pass out and not hear them leave.
She and Carson ate their supper on TV trays before the set. Carson didn’t understand why he was getting this special privilege, but was smart enough not to question it.
Gilda could feel her eyelids grow heavy as sitcom after sitcom rolled across the screen. Carson had already fallen asleep, his curly head lying against her arm. She lifted it and held him close against her, memorizing the smell of his hair. She continued to wait.
After a while, Gilda went through the apartment and turned off all the lights, as well as the television. Carson did not stir. She sat with him in the darkness, waiting. Sometime after midnight, she went into her bedroom and eased the door closed. She got beneath the covers and in a very quiet voice ordered a taxi. She left instructions that it should not honk, but simply wait at the curb. Then she went to the window to watch.
She didn’t have to wait long; the cab must’ve been already in the general area. She walked into the living room and eased Carson’s jacket onto him, waking him up and holding her finger to her lips to urge him to be quiet. It was difficult, but she managed to hold both their suitcases under one arm and his hand with the other.
Slowly and very, very quietly, they crept down the stairs and out the front door. Carson was a perceptive young boy and although he didn’t understand what the mystery was all about, he did understand that his mother and he were leaving and it was to be done quietly.
The cabdriver met her on the sidewalk and took the suitcases, depositing them in the trunk of the cab. She and Carson climbed into the backseat and as the driver slid behind the wheel she told him urgently, “Leave. I’ll give you directions as we go.”
* * *
Cole tossed and turned in the large bed. Something was bothering him, something subliminal. He couldn’t put his finger on it. It was that heightened sense of alertness he had developed while in the military. It usually came on the eve of a battle or a strategic plan to be carried out in stealth. He got up and went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of hot tea, hoping the warmth would settle him down.
He was startled, then, to hear a ding and looked to see that the light over his apartment elevator was on. That meant someone was coming up. He sprang into action, seizing a giant knife from the drawer and crouched in the shadows behind the counter.
The elevator doors opened and no one moved. Cole looked around the counter and saw Gilda standing there, two suitcases in hand.
“Gilda! What’s wrong? You wouldn’t be here if something wasn’t wrong.”
She took two steps forward. “Cole?” Her voice was tentative and frightened. He dropped the knife and rushed forward to wrap her in his arms.
“Cole, I need your help. We need somewhere to stay. Scott found me.”
“We?”
Gilda took two steps sideways and her movement revealed a young boy, bundled in a winter coat and looking frightened, sleepy, and disheveled. “Cole, may I introduce my son, Carson?”
PART 3
Chapter 21
“Your son?” Cole’s mouth fell open at her words, but he was trained to respond to surprises and quickly hid his thoughts. He bent at the knees and stuck out his hand. “How do you do, Carson?”
“Hello, sir,” Carson responded, well-coached in his manners by Gilda. “
Mama?” he looked up toward his mother. “Do we know him?”
“Yes, we do, sweetheart. This is Mama’s friend; the one who has been taking me to dinner.”
Carson processed this and he looked to Cole. “Please, sir… Could you take me to the diner with the burgers and fries sometime? Mama seemed to really like it there and I’d like to see it, too. I haven’t much money, but I will be glad to pay,” he finished.
Cole’s heart broke. How like his mother this child was.
“I think we can arrange that. Not to worry. But right now, let’s find your room.”
“My room?” Carson was amazed that this strange man would have a room intended for him.
“Well, right now it’s not entirely ready for you. It needs some toys and maybe a race car or some soldiers, but we can take care of that in no time. Come along, Carson, and let’s get you settled.” Cole looked up to see a mixture of protest in Gilda’s eyes and a gratitude that Cole would adapt to Carson’s presence so readily and without hesitation.
Gilda nodded and removed Carson’s jacket. “Come along, son, it’s right down the hall.” Gilda and Cole, together, carried the luggage down the hall and put Carson into the guest room. Gilda was torn, wondering whether she should sleep with Carson so he wouldn’t be frightened, or to sleep with Cole. Carson had never known her to sleep with a man. How would he handle it?
“He’ll be fine,” Cole said softly, reading her thoughts. Gilda nodded and tucked Carson into the queen-sized bed, one far larger than he was used to. Carson lay there for a bit, looking around at the beauty of the room and through the window at the lights of the city. It was far grander than anything he’d seen before.
When her son seemed settled, Gilda followed Cole into his bedroom and pushed the door closed so they could talk in private. Cole drew her into his arms, and at that point, she began to break down — the stress of the previous hours was finally catching up to her.