Getting Caught in the Rain

by Barron, Melinda

  “I want to know about your BOB, how you’ve used it while we’ve been apart.”

  Rachel leaned over and opened the drawer nearest her bed. “I have several.” She looked up at him. “Which one would you like to know about?”

  “The one you use the most,” he said. Dex was now tapping the leather against his thigh.

  Rachel pulled out a small, red plastic vibrator from the drawer. She showed it to him and said, “This is all I need.”

  He frowned. “You used something that small to replace me? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

  “Are you threatened by this?” She waved the small object in the air.

  “Maybe just a little,” he said. “It’s hard to think you used that little thing to do my job.”

  “Your job?” She giggled. “This doesn’t replace you, Dex. It just provides enough stimulation to give me an orgasm.”

  “Show me.”

  “All the way?” she asked. The words sent a shiver down her spine. “Don’t do anything half-assed, right?”

  “Right,” he said.

  Rachel put her back against the headboard again. She spread her legs and gently touched herself.

  “Turn it on.” Dex’s command made her shiver. She did as he asked, listening to the soft whirl as the vibrator started to move between her fingers. “So that’s what replaced me?”

  The excitement she’d felt disappeared almost immediately. “Nothing could replace you, Dex.” She cleared her throat, and then turned the vibrator off. “But a woman has needs, the same as a man does.”

  “You haven’t dated anyone, have you?” he asked. When she didn’t answer he said, “Agatha told me. She said your friends tried to set you up, and you ignored them all.”

  “I did,” she said. “Like I said, nothing could replace you.” She reached for the bottle of water she kept by her bedside and took a healthy drink. “You know she used to tell me the same thing about you, that you didn’t date anyone.”

  “She was always a little meddler,” Dex said with a laugh. “I think her final chance to knit us together is asking us to dispose of her belongings, together.”

  “Let’s hope we don’t unravel this time,” she said.

  “We won’t,” he answered. “And we’ve strayed off track. We were talking about the little device in your hand, and how it could give you the same pleasure as me.”

  “I never said that,” she said. “But it did satisfy my needs from time to time.”

  “Well, let’s satisfy them now.” He flicked his finger at the vibrator. “Turn it back on.”

  “Yes, Master Dex. Will there be anything else, Master Dex? I am at your beck and call, Master Dex.”

  He held up the belt. “You forget what I have in my hand when you spout your sarcasm.”

  “Oh, but I do not, Master Dex.” She tried, and failed, to hold back a laugh. “Don’t you like your new name?”

  “I think you’re itching for a spanking,” he said. “As your new Master, you will follow my instructions. I want you to touch the vibrator to your clit. Don’t go any farther. Just touch it there.”

  “Do not pass go? Do not collect two-hundred dollars?” She laughed, and then she did as he asked, touching the vibrator to her clit and pulling it away almost immediately. She didn’t want to leave it there too long, because despite their earlier detour, she wanted to get back on the path, wanted to continue their adventure of fucking like bunnies.

  “Again,” he said. “Only this time leave it there longer, but don’t come.”

  “You ask a lot,” she said, even as she did as he asked. Pleasure shot through her, and she pulled the vibrator away before she passed the point of no return, and kept it there until she exploded.

  “Lie on your back,” he said.

  Rachel loved it when he gave her orders, and she savored doing as he asked, unless not doing as he asked would get her a spanking. But right now she wanted to obey.

  When she was on her back he said, “Close your eyes and use the vibrator to play with your clit. Use your free hand to play with those gorgeous nipples.”

  “As you wish, Master Dex,” she said.

  Her hands started to move, as did the vibrator. Her body responded immediately, excited not only by her touch, but by the fact that Dex watched.

  “Close your eyes,” he said. “Now, consider all the things I plan to do with you. I will fuck you. I will touch my tongue to your clit, the very one that the battery-operated thing is touching right now. I will suck your nipples and help myself to every tender morsel of your body.”

  Rachel moved the vibrator around her clit as Dex’s words sunk into her skin. With her eyes closed she felt as if he were touching her, as if he were producing the bliss she felt.

  “Do it, Rachel, come with the vibrator one last time, because after tonight you won’t need it,” Dex said. “Oh we’ll play with one from time to time, but it will be one I buy for you, one that we will use together.”

  Rachel’s hips arched off the bed as his words sunk in; it wasn’t just tonight that they would fuck like bunnies, it was for the rest of their lives.

  “Come, Rachel, do it while I watch.”

  She rolled back and forth, her orgasm just out of reach—until he said, “Come and I’ll reward you with a few good slaps, and a hard fucking.”

  That was all it took. Rachel came, rolling onto her stomach and pressing herself against the vibrator that was still between her legs. Dex’s belt came down across her ass and she cried out as the orgasm deepened.

  He slapped her ass again, and again, and her body tightened with the pleasure that swept over her. The spanking went on, but not near long enough for her. When she heard the belt hit the ground she wanted to scream that it was not enough.

  But Dex roughly pushed her legs apart and slammed into her. A second orgasm, harder than the other, almost painful, ripped through her and stopped as quickly as it had started.

  Dex pounded into her, and followed her just as quickly, collapsing next to her. His chest heaved with exertion, and she scrambled to cuddle next to him and kiss the place just above his heart.

  “Set an alarm for an hour,” he said. “You’ve worn me out and I need sleep before I go to work.”

  “Blame it all on me,” she said. She did as he asked, and then they settled on the bed together. “Who else blames me?” she asked when she was settled in his arms.

  “What?”

  “Tommy,” she said. “Is he going to accept me back in your life?”

  “He’s my oldest friend, right up there with you,” he said. “He knows how much I love you. How much I missed you when you were gone from my life.”

  “I hope his wife feels the same,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about her,” Dex said. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he was near sleep. “Things will work out fine.”

  She hoped he was right.

  Chapter 6

  The smell of mustiness hit Rachel as she opened the front door of Agatha’s house the next evening. It had not even been two weeks since Agatha had died, yet the house felt unused and a little—what was the word she was searching for—scary. Yes, that was the word that came to mind.

  Yet she wasn’t scared, so maybe that wasn’t the word. Perhaps it was uneasy. She did this sort of work all the time, yet she’d never done it for someone she knew so well, someone she loved. She hated the thought she would never see Agatha again, never talk to her, never laugh at her stories.

  She wanted to sit and cry, but she knew that would not do, because she felt that once she started she would not stop, and she had things to do.

  “Hello, Agatha,” Rachel said into the empty space. She didn’t expect an answer, but it felt right to greet her old friend. She brushed away the tears that had threatened and laughed. “If you were watching us last night you got quite an eyeful, didn’t you? You didn’t realize we liked things differently, did you? Or maybe you did, who knows. You were always one to notice things tha
t no one else seemed to.”

  Rachel tossed her purse on the sofa and took off her coat and let it fall in the small place. Dex was bringing dinner, enchiladas and tamales, he’d said. When she’d asked where he was buying them from, he told her that Carrie was cooking. She did it every day for Dex and Tommy while they were out working Buffalo Gap.

  “She makes homemade tamales?” Rachel had asked. That thought knocked her for a loop, since the most Rachel ever cooked was canned soup, and boxed macaroni and cheese.

  “She’s at the house all day,” Dex had answered. “She makes all sorts of things.”

  Rachel already felt a little intimidated by Tommy’s wife, whom she’d first thought of as Dex’s girlfriend. Knowing Carrie could cook didn’t help matters. But if her relationship with Dex was going to work, Rachel knew she would have to learn to get along with Carrie. That might be a little difficult, because the woman obviously didn’t like her.

  Rachel didn’t know for certain the reasons, but she knew if she were Carrie, who felt close to Dex because of her husband, she would hate the woman who had broken his heart. After last night’s discussion, she was sure Dex had told Tommy, who had told his wife, that he could not have the woman he loved.

  It was a tricky situation that would have to be faced at some time, but not now. She had things to do, a job that she didn’t want to have, but had to face.

  “All right, Agatha, where is your hidey-hole?” Rachel spread out her arms. “Tell me there is one, one that contains all your secrets. Point me in the right direction. A light will do. Or a knocking.”

  She waited, half expecting something to happen. When it didn’t, she laughed at her own folly.

  “Thanks a lot, Agatha,” she said. “I guess I’ll have to do it all on my own.” She started toward the second bedroom, which she knew Agatha used as an office as well as guest quarters. Inside she found a daybed, a large chair with a table and lamp next to it, a four-drawer filing cabinet, with a two-drawer one right next to it, and a small writing desk.

  The desk was neat as a pin, which didn’t really seem strange to Rachel. Agatha had always kept a tidy house. The only thing visible were spiral-bound notebooks, three of them.

  “Agatha, answer me this,” she said. “Please let these be your diaries, left behind to tell your secrets. Any of those gothic novels we read together when I was a teenager would feature diaries.”

  Rachel said a silent prayer, then picked up the top one and flipped it open. It was nothing more than a list of household expenses. From what Rachel read, Agatha had a tidy income with few expenses. She felt like a voyeur, pawing through Agatha’s things. She did it so many times in the course of her work, but right now she felt ghoulish. She wondered if she could do as Agatha wanted her to, to sell her possessions as if they meant nothing to her, or to Dex.

  The best way to do it, she knew, was to start slowly. Agatha had asked that her clothing be donated to the local women’s shelter, and that would be easy enough to do. Clothing generally held no sentimental value, unless it was a wedding dress, or some other clothing from a special occasion. Since Agatha had never been married there wouldn’t be one of those around.

  That meant what they should do tonight, she and Dex, was box up Agatha’s clothing and get it ready. They would need boxes for that, and she had quite a few at the auction headquarters, located in a warehouse downtown. It was about a ten-minute trip from here, and she considered going before Dex arrived, then suddenly decided to wait. She didn’t want him to think she was cutting him out of anything, and that included gathering the things they would need to put the final pieces of Agatha’s life into place.

  She turned in a circle, looking around the room and taking in the photographs. There was one of Agatha at her college graduation, standing with her parents, whom Rachel had met only a few times, and Dale and Jessica. It was far before Dex’s birth, so he wasn’t in the photo.

  Agatha looked happy, displaying her diploma for the camera. Had she been pregnant then? Or was it later? And who was the father? Rachel guessed the photo was taken in the late 1960s or early 1970s. They hadn’t really looked up dates when they’d beefed up Agatha’s obituary; they’d just added stories about her sense of humor, and the way she liked to help people.

  Another glance at the framed photos showed the diploma was not amongst them, so there was no way to find the date that way. She would have to call the university offices sometime soon to see if she could find a date. Maybe that would be the first piece of the puzzle in finding out about Agatha’s child.

  The other photos on the wall made Rachel smile. Many of them featured Dex, and herself, at various family outings and holidays. There were picnics, Christmas photos, and the two of them dressed in their Easter finery for church.

  Rachel smiled at the memories, and then her smile deepened when she heard, “Delivery service!”

  She’d left the front door unlocked for Dex, but she really hadn’t expected him to come so early. She found him in the living room, holding a large brown sack.

  “I was going to set the table, and I haven’t done it yet,” she said.

  “We can spread a cloth on the living room floor and have an indoor picnic,” he said. “I’ll go search for one if you’ll get plates and utensils from the kitchen.”

  When she returned from the kitchen she found him spreading a blanket on the floor. They sat and he took out containers of the promised food, plus Mexican corn, and a container of cookies.

  “I forgot that I left the drinks in the truck,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He sprinted out of the house and Rachel stared at the food spread out before her. She might be able to provide sex, and companionship, but if she couldn’t even set the table before he got here with food prepared by another woman, how could she be considered good material as a wife?

  She wanted to kick herself for even thinking it, but if Dex was used to such perfection… she felt less than perfect just thinking about it.

  “Let’s eat,” he said as he came back inside. He set two drinks on the coffee table and drew it closer to the blanket. Then he sat down, crossed-legged and unpacked the sack. When it was all laid out in front of them he picked up a plate.

  “It looks delicious,” Rachel said after she’d sat down across from him. He’d already scooped a large portion of enchiladas onto his plate, along with three tamales.

  “You’re lying,” he said. “The look on your face says the waiter brought you liver when you asked for steak and shrimp. What’s wrong?”

  She knew she was causing a problem, that she should push away her fears and enjoy the food. She should not be jealous of another woman’s skills. After all, Carrie was Tommy’s wife, not Dex’s lover. Still, the green-eyed monster had definitely reared its ugly head. She thought about trying to bluff, to tell him nothing was wrong, but he knew her too well for that. She might as well let her feelings out in the open. Best to tell him now rather than later and let him be disappointed.

  “This.” She held her hands out to indicate the food in front of them. “I can’t cook like this.”

  “Did I ask you to?” He put down his plate. “What is happening here?”

  “You’re used to this, you said it yourself that you get feasts like this every day.” She took a sip from her soda. “If we stay together, I can’t do this for you. I can make you a bologna sandwich, and plate up some chips. Or call for pizza delivery. But if I try something like this, you might end up in the emergency room with food poisoning.”

  “I’m not sure what is happening here.” Dex took a drink from his cup. “But I can’t believe I just heard you say the word if when you referred to our relationship. Are you telling me our future depends on food? Is that why you said if? Do you think if you can’t make tamales I’m going to dump you?”

  She took another drink, then stared at the food in front of them. “I wonder if I’m good enough to be a…”

  “To be a what?” he asked when she stopped speaking.
His voice was softer. “To be a wife?”

  “Yes,” she said, keeping her voice soft, too.

  “Does eating another woman’s cooking upset you so much?”

  “I guess I’m that insecure,” she said.

  “I think you’re shooting for perfection without working toward it,” he said.

  “What does that mean?” she stared at the food, and her stomach growled.

  “It’s almost as if you expect perfection right now,” he said. “Can’t we work toward it? Maybe we could take a cooking class together. You know I don’t know how to do much more than boil water. And I’d much rather have you be a temptress in the bedroom than a five-star chef in the kitchen.”

  He started to pack the containers back in the sack.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Well I can’t eat it now, knowing you don’t want it.”

  She grabbed the sack away from him and said, “Nonsense. I may be acting like a child, but the best way to get over it is to soldier on, as my mother would say.” She unpacked the food he’d just packed away.

  “Besides, it smells too good to ignore.” They both filled their plates, and after she’d taken a bite she moaned in delight. “She’s a great cook.”

  “She is that,” Dex said.

  There was an awkward tension in the air as the two of them ate. Finally he said, “You mentioned your mother. How is she?”

  “Okay, I guess,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. She flits about with her latest boyfriend, and sometimes she calls to check on me. I left a message on her phone about Agatha, but I haven’t heard back. That could mean one of two things, that she didn’t care, or that she’s out of the country and her phone is not working wherever she is.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “She’s never been the perfect mother, you know that.”

  He nodded. “Is that why you feel the need to fight for perfection?”