Wild Jaden

by Shayne Ford

  The camera comes on with us on display from neck down. I click the record button and lean back against the couch with her on my lap.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Homemade porn...”

  “You’re not putting me on the Internet.”

  “I’m not... But even if I am, nobody can tell it’s you.”

  She cocks an eyebrow.

  I flick my hand up.

  “I won’t do it. I don’t want to get a letter from your lawyer,” I say as I glance over her shoulder. “Fuck me... That looks hot.”

  She swivels her head and takes a peek. Her eyes linger for a moment longer, her pussy squeezing me while pulsing with unbridled pleasure. She starts rolling her hips and grinding, watching herself while doing it.

  I grunt, my eyes rotted to the screen as well.

  “You’re so hot,” I mutter.

  Her eyes come back to me, gleaming with a feral glint.

  She takes my face in her hands, and lowers her mouth, crashing her lips onto mine, her deep, hot softness working on my shaft.

  “Keep doing it,” I breathe into her.

  She increases the pace.

  “That’s fucking good,” I say.

  I grab the back of her hair and hold her in place as I kiss her back.

  I tear my lips away from hers, leaving her almost breathless.

  My eyes flick to the laptop screen as everything becomes a blur. Her breaths roll faster and faster in synch with her moves.

  I lock her in my arms, exploding under her.

  9

  SENNA

  “It looks great,” Harper says, swiveling her head and taking in the backyard.

  Blooming shrubs and layers of flowers explode with color against the trimmed lawn. The water sparkles crystal clear in the pool.

  “It does, doesn’t it?” I mutter absently, bringing my cup of coffee to my lips.

  People have been working around the clock, manicuring the landscape for the past week or so.

  A soft breeze crests the water.

  “No more pool boy,” she says, smiling.

  I shift my gaze to her.

  Stifling a grin, I set the cup on the table.

  “No.”

  Her eyes follow my hands and then flick up at me, studying my expression briefly.

  “You are lucky,” she says.

  “Why would you say that?”

  She tips her chin, motioning to the house.

  “Because of him?” I ask quietly as Jaden’s silhouette briefly becomes visible not far from the wall of windows.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You really think so?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  The soft wind plays with her auburn locks. She runs her hand through her hair, combing it all back in place. A peach dress sets a contrast to her eyes and glowing face.

  Dipping my gaze to my hands, I muse over her words.

  “It’s probably the perception. I don’t feel lucky,” I say, flicking my gaze up.

  Her smile dies out.

  “Why’s that?”

  I shrug.

  “I don’t know. I guess that’s how things are. I don’t have an explanation for it.”

  Silent, she picks a strawberry from the plate and pops it into her mouth. Her expression changes fleetingly as she gets a taste of the sweet and sour aroma.

  “He looks like the kind of man I always envisioned for you,” she says.

  I chuckle softly.

  “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she says.

  “And what exactly is that kind?” I ask, amused.

  She picks another piece of fruit.

  “Hot as hell and handling you with an iron hand,” she says.

  I shoot her an incredulous glance.

  “Are you serious?”

  A grin curls her lips.

  “Of course I am.”

  “What makes you think I need that?”

  She runs a napkin over her lips and swallows the last piece of fruit.

  “We’ve known each other for how long... Three, four years?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “You’ve always run things and managed things. You’ve never let yourself get attached to anyone and never let a man get close to you. All that bossiness must’ve worn you out. I can’t imagine you being with someone who needs guidance from you. One of those men who constantly need to be mothered. I think you’d be happy with a man who takes the reins for a change and leads you, overriding your decision making power from time to time,” she says, a trace of humor in her voice.

  “Is that so, Harper?” I ask with a lighter tone as well.

  She might have a point though.

  “You know it is so.”

  “What makes you think he is that kind of man?” I ask as we both swing our eyes to the living room where Jaden starts talking on the phone.

  He smiles at me before he shuts the doors and turns his back to us. I bring my eyes back to Harper. She still stares in his direction.

  “I can tell.”

  She shifts her gaze back to me.

  “That’s why I think you like him so much. It’s not easy to find your boss when you’ve been running things your entire life. He might just be that man. The way I see him, he can’t stand to have someone fawn all over him. It’s in his blood. He’s fiercely independent as you. He gives you what he gives you, when he gives you, and only in his own terms. In between, he lives in a world of his own. Same way as you do,” she adds, smiling. “You two are not the usual kind of couple. I don’t see you finishing each others sentences anytime soon although I do believe that your minds are connected and words possibly only an accessory.”

  I look at her, intrigued.

  “How do you know all that?”

  She shrugs.

  “I just know. I work with him, remember? And I know you. You two are like two worlds colliding. But at the end of the day, you’re still two different worlds.”

  “I’m not so sure that’s necessarily good.”

  She ponders for a moment.

  “It’s probably the only way it works for people like you.”

  “What do you mean people like us?”

  She takes a sip of coffee and runs the tip of her tongue over her lip.

  “I can’t speak for others, but I, for one, need to be joined at the hip with the other person. I wasn’t lucky enough to find that man, and that’s another story, but I like to do stuff with that person. Like all the time. I think most people are like that.”

  “We do stuff together,” I say, glancing in the direction of the house, a bit baffled.

  She sets the cup on the table.

  “You work together. It’s not the same. And as I said before, you don’t need each other at that basic level. That doesn’t mean that there isn’t some sort of bond between you two.”

  A soft chuckle rolls from my lips.

  “That couldn’t be further from the truth,” I say, suddenly saddened. “You cannot bond with men like him.”

  “Perhaps. Or maybe you need time.”

  I laugh quietly.

  “Yeah... sure,” I mutter, in a pensive mood.

  The truth is, I can never tell.

  All I know is that I sense him ready to pull away from me at any given point. That’s hardly reassuring.

  “Who knows? I guess I’ll find out someday,” I say, staring vacantly at the house.

  “If there’s one woman well equipped to handle him, it's you, Senna,” she says, scooping out a small mirror and her lipstick from her purse.

  “Maybe,” I say, my eyes following the slow motion of her hand as she applies the red lipstick.

  She presses her lips together, and glances in the mirror. Satisfied, she shoves everything back into her handbag.

  “Thank you for the treat,” she says, rising to her feet.

  I follow her example and accompany her to the exit.

  A few minutes later, I wave at her as she backs away and steers her car out
of my driveway.

  For a few moments, I look up and down the street, taking in the trees and the manicured landscapes, the wrought iron gates and the homes peeking through.

  Her car reaches the end of the street and takes a turn when my phone starts ringing. Puzzled, I glance at the screen. It’s a New York number I don’t recognize.

  Evelyne comes to my mind, but I dismiss the thought just as fast. There’s no way she has my number. Adele is the only one who knows it, and she wouldn’t give it to anyone without my permission.

  I keep staring at my phone, pondering whether to pick up the call or not. I finally make up my mind and decide against it.

  A second call follows shortly.

  Something prompts me to slide my finger onto the screen.

  “Yes?” I ask with a hesitant voice.

  A pause comes first, and I instantly know. I’m tempted to hang up. Instead, I look at the screen again.

  I hear a long sigh and then his voice.

  “You know who this is,” he says, and my insides collapse.

  My hands begin to tremble.

  “How did you get this number?”

  His laughter travels through the ether, echoing in my ear.

  “Is that even a question?”

  “Yes, it fucking is. This is not a public number. Nobody in my family has it.”

  “Let’s say I have my sources,” he says with his affected, raspy voice.

  My finger flies across the screen that very instant, hanging up on him. I expect him to call again. He doesn’t.

  Shaken, I call Harper and instruct her to get me a new phone number. She takes all the information without asking questions.

  Quivering, I walk inside.

  Not far from the pool, Jaden sits at the patio table. His eyes set on me as I walk toward him.

  “What happened?” he asks, playing with his lighter.

  “Nothing,” I say curtly.

  “Sit with me,” he says as I veer toward the house trying to avoid him.

  I glance at him. He motions me to the chair across from him.

  I turn around, stride to the table, and take a seat. Swiftly, I shift my eyes to the fruit platter, pretending I don’t notice his scrutinizing gaze roaming over my face.

  He lights up a cigarette. Slowly, he blows out the smoke to the side.

  “What happened out there?” he asks.

  “Nothing.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Senna,” he says calmly, yet assertively.

  “It’s nothing important,” I say softly.

  “Why are you spooked then?”

  I’m doing my best to hold his gaze.

  “I got a phone call from someone who said he knew me. I got a little nervous, and I instructed Harper to get me a new number.”

  “Who was it?”

  “I have no idea,” I say, my voice steady, my eyes still connected with his.

  The lie is flawless––if you ask me, and yet I’m not so sure he buys it.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah...” I say quietly.

  He pauses for a few moments, taking a drag off his cigarette. Unhurried, he releases the smoke.

  “Is there anything I should know?” he asks.

  I lower my eyes, and shake my head a couple of times, picking a slice of apple from the platter.

  Silence grows at the table as I’m waiting to be challenged by him any moment.

  To my surprise, I’m not.

  “Okay,” he says, suspicion lining his voice.

  “Listen...” I say, flicking my gaze up. “I’d like to take a break from work and go away for a few days. I want you to come with me.”

  He looks at me, intrigued.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Up north,” I say, smiling faintly. “It’s cold and snowy this time of year, but the place is beautiful.”

  He tips his head down, glancing briefly at his hands before he looks at me.

  “What place?”

  “Where I grew up. We can leave on Monday and come back at the end of the week. You can still visit Sara on the weekend.”

  He tilts his head back this time and narrows his eyes as he brings his cigarette to his lips and draws smoke in.

  He studies me intently for a few more moments, rendering me nervous.

  Just when I’m about to push out of my chair and leave the table, he speaks again.

  “Okay. We can go.”

  SENNA

  The engine purrs as the SUV rolls onto the snaking road. Pine trees heavy with snow line the path, wisps of fog clinging to their branches, filtering the grayish light. Log homes sit on both sides of the road, lit up windows casting a faint light over the ground.

  “Do people live here all year round?” he asks, briefly looking out of the side window.

  “Most of them are vacation homes, but some people do live here all year round.”

  I shift my gaze to the scenery outside.

  The wind plays with the flurries, spinning them before they touch the ground.

  “I miss this kind of weather,” I say, my eyes set on the beautiful surroundings. “This is the winter I’ve always liked. Perhaps because it comes with so much silence, snow, and cold, and long nights, when it’s warm inside and time stands still.”

  My eyes roam over the woods for a moment before I continue.

  “Years back, when I was a kid I came up with this little story. It was about a girl who walks out of her parents’ home one day and heads to the market with her mom. Once she gets there, she quickly gets distracted by the sounds and colors of the place, by the people’s voices, and the food’s aroma. As her mom starts talking with a merchant, she takes a few steps away from her. Spellbound, she lets her gaze rove over the sparkling trinkets, her nostrils filling with the smell of chocolate. The live music drifting through the air lures her farther away. Soon, she loses the sense of time and space. Before she knows it, the day draws to an end and the evening sets in. The place clears of customers, and the merchants start packing their things as they get ready to leave. She asks people around if they have seen her mother, but no one can help her. Soon, the market closes its doors, and she hits the streets alone. Lost and hungry, thirsty and desperate, she wanders until she meets a man. He’s tall, dark-haired, and wears a black, wool cloak. He seems like a good man, but she’s too young to tell the difference. He asks her what is she looking for. She tells him that she is lost and needs to find her mom. He promises to take her home, and she believes him. But he never does. Not to her home anyway. Once he has her at his place, he tries to convince her that his house is her home. She knows he lies to her, so one night after they have dinner, she sneaks out of his house and runs away. She doesn’t have a plan, so she finds herself back on the streets, wandering again. It’s the middle of the night, and there’s no one in sight. Discouraged, she hides behind a tree and hugs herself, muttering a quiet prayer. She doesn’t know much about prayers or who could help her in fact, so she’s praying to the dark night and the sparkling moon, to the whispering wind and the mysterious silence. She’s praying to find a home. Any home. A safe place, so she can never get lost again...”

  The moan of the wind, and the sound of the windshield wipers sweeping the glass thread through the silence.

  “Has she found it?” he asks after a while.

  He gives me a side glance.

  “The little girl... Has she found her safe place?” he asks, searching my eyes for a split second.

  Smiling, I turn my gaze back to the window.

  “Yes, she has,” I murmur, staring vacantly into the darkness. “It’s a nice home, hidden in the forest, draped in the snow in the winter, washed in the sunlight in the summer, wrapped in the sound of a trickling creek in the spring and the smoke of burning leaves in the fall. A place where the night and the moon, the wind and the silence are her neighbors. A place surrounded by an invisible wall that keeps her safe from prying eyes. So no one could see her, find her and lose her again.”
>
  I sense his stare on my face.

  “Anyway... That’s our place,” I say with a different voice, motioning to a log home wrapped in darkness.

  He pulls the car to a stop, turns the engine off and kills the lights.

  Silence and the whistling wind surround us as the silver moonlight falls from the mountain and pours into the forest making everything look surreal.

  10

  SENNA

  Soft snow dusts my boots every step I take on the narrow path leading to the chalet. I climb the stairs, unlock the wooden door, push it open and enter the house.

  I turn on the lights.

  A warm glow rolls over the walls, illuminating the cozy kitchen and the spacious living room. A hallway makes the transition to the bedrooms and the bathrooms.

  It’s warm inside and smells like food.

  Ceiling height windows let a beautiful view flow in––snow-capped trees and mountain peaks in the background.

  Jaden’s steps echo behind me. He sets the travel bag on a chair and looks around.

  “Does anyone live here?”

  “The caretaker prepped the house for us,” I say, peeling my gloves off.

  “Is this place yours?”

  “Mmm-hmm. I inherited from my grandparents. I used to spend time here with them in the summers. Winters too.”

  I unzip my jacket and shrug it off, glancing at the fireplace. An armful of kindling and logs are stacked on the side.

  “I’ll take care of it,” he says as I start unpacking.

  He starts making the fire.

  Soon, the flames lick the logs, and the smell of burning wood spreads through the house, following me in the kitchen.

  I check the refrigerator first. It’s stocked. Pots with freshly cooked food sit on the stove. I hear his footsteps traveling from the living room to the master bedroom. I walk out of the kitchen and follow him around.

  In silence, I watch him lighting another fire. From time to time, I glance around, taking in my surroundings.

  The place looks pretty much the same. A fluffy rug sprawls in the middle of the room next to a hand-crafted wooden bed. Plump pillows and a thick comforter are piled up on the mattress.

  “Where did you learn to light a fire?” I ask, my eyes trained on the dancing flames.