by ANDREA SMITH
Trey’s voice was in my ear.
“Stop fighting me Tylar, for Christ’s sake, it’s me. It’s Trey!”
He handed Clint my key.
“Open the door so I can get her inside,” Trey instructed.
Clint made no move to do it. He was sizing up the situation before him.
“Clint, for Christ’s sake, it’s not me she’s afraid of; open the fucking door before we have the whole compound down on us!”
Clint finally complied. In seconds Trey carried me inside. I was placed gently on my couch. Clint came inside holding the rest of my stuff, including the shopping bag. Trey snatched the plum silk clothing articles, shoving them into the bag and out of my sight.
Clint brought me a glass of water from the kitchenette. I accepted it, taking a sip, then another. Some calmness was starting to seep in. The swirling and shrieking had subsided. Trey sat next to me, looking at me, clutching my free hand as if he expected me to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.
“Can Clint go ahead and leave, sweetie?” he asked me gently.
I was confused.
“Clint thinks you were screaming because of me,” Trey explained. “He wants to make sure that you aren’t afraid of me; that I wasn’t what made you start screaming on the porch out there?”
I understood now. Clint was going to protect me against Trey if necessary. He was a friend to me. I saw that now.
“Oh, yes,” I said, “I’m sorry, Trey, Clint. I’m sorry for that out there.”
They were both staring at me now.
“Clint,” I started, “Thank you for coming to help me out.” I smiled at him weakly. “I received a shock, but Trey’s not responsible. I’m okay, really.”
“Are you sure?” Clint asked quietly, moving in front of Trey, blocking his view of me for the moment while I answered him.
He apparently wanted to make absolutely sure that I was not being forced to say this to him. I knew that this was really pissing Trey off. I heard Trey’s heavy sigh, as he mumbled, “Oh for Christ’s sake,” from behind Clint.
“No Clint, really, I’m fine. Talk to you tomorrow?”
“Sure thing,” he said. “I’m right next door, Ty, you just holler if you need me,” he assured moving away from Trey.
As soon as Clint departed the cottage, Trey closed the wooden door abruptly behind him, mumbling something inaudibly.
He took his place next to me on the couch once again, pulling me into his lap. I laid my head against his chest; the sound of his heart beat made me feel safe, and secure.
I leaned over, pulling off my paddock boots and socks so that my feet were bare. I curled back up into Trey’s lap, sitting sideways in it. I pulled my bare feet up to rest flatly on his muscular left thigh. I liked the way his fawn breeches felt underneath my toes. His right hand rubbed my back gently, reassuringly, and then moved up to my neck, rubbing and
caressing me there. He pulled me in, and kissed my brow. My head rested against his chest again, listening to his steady heartbeat. His hand traveled up to my ponytail, twirling it around his fingers absently.
“Are we going to talk about it, Tylar?” he asked softly.
“I don’t want to Trey,” I replied quietly. “But I will.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Go ahead,” Trey urged gently, “Just tell me what these clothes mean.”
“Okay,” I said, shakily. “The other night, when you were in Atlanta, I had been cleaning this cottage like crazy. It brought back some memories. Memories of when I was growing up in Radcliff – Radcliff, Kentucky, where I’m from?”
He nodded for me to continue.
“My mom had taught me from an early age that I had responsibilities - chores, stuff like that. When I was thirteen my Saturday chores were to get our house cleaned. Saturday was special to my mom because that was the only night out of the whole week that she had her date. By that, I mean a date with her boyfriend.”
“And what was his name?” Trey asked.
“Well,” I answered. “I’m not really sure.”
Trey raised his eyebrows in confusion.
“It seems like maybe there were of few of them, only because I overheard her talking about them to her best friend Mona. My mom was not the luckiest woman in the world when it came to love and relationships. She told me that the only man she had ever really loved was my father. I never formally got to meet any of her boyfriends because she felt that unless it became serious – and by that she meant marriage, like it was with my dad, then she didn’t want to introduce me to them and have me be disappointed if the relationship didn’t work out.”
I paused, gathering my thoughts.
“So anyway, that day here that I was cleaning, I got to thinking about back when I was a kid in Radcliff. My best friend was Laurie – her mom was Mona, my mom’s friend. Laurie’s mom was a single parent too. So on Friday nights, Laurie would spend the night with me, and then on Saturday nights, I would spend the night at Laurie’s."
“Okay,” Trey commented, “So how does this tie into the purple underwear?”
“I’m getting to that, bear with me. So when I went to bed the night I had cleaned my cottage, I had a dream. The dream was about my mom, Laurie, Mona – Laurie’s mom - and me. The odd thing about this particular dream was that some of it I recalled as having happened right off the bat. But then. .”
I hesitated, not quite sure how to explain this to Trey.
He pulled me close to him, brushing my hair from my face, and tilting my head so that he could look at me.
“Sweetie,” he said, “Just tell me what you dreamed, and we’ll figure out what is real and what is not, okay?”
I shook my head up and down, continuing.
“Okay, so this particular weekend, I went to Laurie’s house. We were thirteen and we both liked the same guy. Laurie had figured a great way for us to get to stay out until around 11 p.m. Laurie told her mom that her friend Vanessa was having her birthday party at the Video Palace that night. The party was scheduled to start at eight o’clock and wouldn’t be over until eleven which cleared us to be out until 11p.m.”
He nodded for me to continue.
“The problem was, shortly after we got to the Video Palace Laurie revealed that we were all going to be going out in a car with boys older than us. I refused to go. Laurie got pissed, but they took off anyway. I walked home and let myself in. By this time, Mom and her boyfriend were upstairs. I knew Mom would be mad if I interrupted her romantic date night. I tried to kill time downstairs. Finally I was just so tired and I had to pee, so I went upstairs and got into my plum colored, silk pajama shorts and matching camisole top.”
Trey looked over towards the shopping bag that contained those items.
“I went and used the bathroom, and I guess my mom heard the toilet flush. She came out and saw me."
"She was pissed and asked why I was home and not at Laurie’s. I made up a story about not feeling well. I didn’t want to get Laurie in trouble, but my mom was angry. She told me to me to get my ass to bed; we would talk in the morning. As I passed her open bedroom door, her boyfriend said something to her. I think he asked what the hell was going on. My mom told him that her little sister had come home from a date unexpectedly early. That’s it. I went to bed.”
“Tylar,” Trey said in a very serious tone, “That can’t be it. That doesn’t explain the ripped up silk pajamas. That doesn’t explain the note about Sissy."
He rubbed my back, comfortingly, consolingly.
“Well, in the dream that I had the other night, it got into more detail. I thought that part of it maybe never happened?”
“What part?” he asked. “Tylar, you must tell me everything, sweetie. We have to sort it out together, remember?”
I swallowed nervously. I was afraid that I might be sick. I have to do this, though. I had to trust my Trey. If not him, than whom could I ever trust? I snuggled closer to him, as if that would help it be less despicable.
&n
bsp; “Well, after I went to my room that night. I could hear the usual sounds from my mom’s room. I couldn’t sleep so I put my headphones on and listened to the radio. I finally went to sleep. Later I woke up. My mom’s boyfriend was in my room. He was touching me. He was calling me ‘Sissy,’ and telling me the things he liked doing to my 'older sister.' He smelled bad, like whiskey and garbage. He looked at me underneath my clothes. He ripped my silk pajama shorts right off of me."
My voice started cracking. I was so ashamed.
Trey held me tight, brushing my face and kissing my hair, my forehead.
“Tell me what he did to you, Tylar.”
The tone of his voice frightened me.
(He will never touch me once he knows…)
“Don’t you see, Trey, I’m not sure.”
“Tell me what he did to you in your dream.”
“In my dream? Well, he put his fingers in and around my private parts. He told me that I had a clit that was working perfectly fine, and he put his mouth and tongue, down there and asked me if I liked it.”
I could feel Trey’s body turn to stone underneath me. (I disgust him.)
“Go on,” he ordered.
(I don’t want to!)
“Well,” I swallowed nervously, “He made me put my hand around his penis, and he told me to squeeze it. He said that my big sister enjoyed having his penis in her … vagina, but he called it something else. He said he bet that I was tighter than my sister. He had me pinned down, Trey, I could hardly breathe. But when he said what he wanted to do, I somehow found it in me to bring my knee up as hard as I could in his crotch.”
“What happened in your dream, then, Tylar?”
“He let me be,” I said with relief. “He screamed and yelled in pain, and rolled off of the bed. I screamed as hard as I could for my mom. Finally, I heard her come into my room yelling and screaming at him. She was asking him what he had done to her girl.”
I was sobbing now. Trey held me but coaxed me to finish.
“I thought everything would be fine, my mom was there.”
“Why wasn’t it fine – in your dream, Tylar?”“Because she was yelling at him that this was not part of the deal. She was yelling at him that he owed her another hundred dollars,” I sobbed. "Those are the same plum silk pajamas I had when I was thirteen!”
I cried hysterically.
He held me close, but I needed to get out of his grasp. I was sick. I didn’t want to be sick in front of him.
“Please Trey, let me go, I need to go to the bathroom, now!”
He released his hold on me and I scrambled for the bathroom, slamming my bedroom door closed behind me, and then doing the same with the bathroom door. I didn’t want him to hear me retching. I threw back the lid to the toilet, raised the seat, and vomited my lovely Italian dinner. I flushed the toilet, waiting for more to follow. There was still dessert. Trey was behind me, crouching down, rubbing my back. I leaned over and heaved again, parting with the Tiramisu.
Trey wet a clean washcloth with cold water, squeezing it out and then pressed it to my forehead, all the while talking soothingly to me. I was finished with the puking. There was nothing left. He flushed the toilet, and lifted me up, taking me into the bedroom and placed me gently onto the bed. He disappeared out the door to the kitchenette, and came back with a tall glass of ice water.
“Drink this.” It was a command.
I drained the glass, handing it back to him.
I lay on the bed, numb and confused. I was also scared. Who had kept my ripped up silk pajamas all of these years, and then made it a point to leave them on my cottage door? Was it the same person that left the jewelry inside of my cottage? Why?
Trey was busy collecting clothing from my dresser drawers and closet, putting them in a pile on my bed, searching for a suitcase. He found the one under my bed and packed what he had gathered inside.
He was in the bathroom, gathering up my toothbrush, razor and the rest of my toiletries. He had my cell phone charger, and purse shoving everything into my suitcase.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked.
“You are not staying here Tylar,” he stated. “And it is not up for debate.”
He did not have to worry about me arguing that point. There was no way I would stay in this cottage one more minute without him. He had me all packed up and ready to go. Where?
“You are staying at the house tonight,” he stated, “with me.”
I presumed he meant the Sinclair house. Again, he would get no argument from me. I noticed the pile of mail still on the counter. He grabbed it, shoving it into the zippered flap on the outside of my suitcase.
“I think we’re ready,” he said, guiding me out the front door.
It was dark now. I was glad for it provided a cloak of privacy. Trey held my hand, leading me down the path that led to his home. The mansion stood in peaceful and safe serenity. There were a few lights on inside.
He led me around to the front door, reaching into his breeches for his key chain. He needn't have bothered because the large double oak colonial doors were opened
in greeting before he needed to use his key.
“Sir,” he was greeted by a tall, slender man that looked to be in his sixties. He wore a uniform that reminded me of what Benson wore on the old television series I watched as a kid on Nickelodeon.
“Good evening, Thatcher,” Trey greeted him, pulling me behind him over the threshold into a large entry hall. “This is Ms. Preston. She is my houseguest this week. Please see to her every comfort.”
Trey set my suitcase down in the entry hall.
“Of course, sir,” Thatcher responded. “Where would you have me take Ms. Preston’s things?”
“To my suite,” Trey directed without hesitation.
(Oh sweet Jesus.)
Thatcher didn’t bat an eye, as he lifted my suitcase and ascended the wide staircase just off of the entrance hall to deposit my things in Trey’s suite.
“Trey,” I said, shakily. “I’m not sure about this.”
“About what?” he asked, looking up from a stack of mail he was thumbing through.
“About staying here, without you being here. It’s going to make me feel really weird,” I said quietly.
“I see no reason why it should,” he replied very nonchalantly. “You heard me instruct Thatcher to see to your every comfort. He will inform the rest of the staff to do the same.”
“I know,” I replied, “but what about when I’m off work? I mean it is sort’ve like I’ve been put up on this shelf, away from the rest of the population.”
“You are not considering going to work tomorrow are you?” he asked, incredulously.
“Well, yeah,” I answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Tylar,” you are not to leave the premises here, do you understand?”
“Whoa, no, Trey, I don’t understand. Please explain.”
“I’ve already explained to you how I feel about you. If the first message you received with the jewelry left under your bedspread wasn’t clear enough, this latest one certainly was. No, I’m afraid that I cannot allow you to put yourself at risk until we can determine who is behind this.”
“Trey, I appreciate your concern for me and I no more want to stay in that cottage by myself then you do but we have to draw the line somewhere. I still need to work. I could go behind your back and go in anyway tomorrow. You know that. So let’s please let’s forego yet another useless argument and figure out a way to make it happen, okay? Because at the end of the day, come hell or high water, I will be at work tomorrow.”
I saw a flicker of amusement cross his handsome features.
“Tell you what,” he offered, “Why don’t I take you upstairs to my suite, and let you draw yourself a nice relaxing bubble bath? How does that sound?”
(Like heaven on earth.)
“I’d really like that, Trey,” I answered.
“Good, and while you are doing that, I will make a couple of phone
calls, and get myself packed for tomorrow’s trip. Then we’ll meet in my suite and discuss tomorrow, sound fair?”
“Umhmm,” I agreed, flashing him a smile.
Trey led me upstairs through his suite of rooms that were quite spacious and comfortable to the large bathroom. There was a double marble shower at one end, in the center, was a sunken bathtub with Jacuzzi. The double vanity was against the adjacent wall where the commode sits. It was ceramic tiled all throughout with brass fixtures, ceiling fans, and one wall was completely mirrored. Trey grabbed some clean towels and wash cloths for me.
“Tylar, your suitcase is on the bed. You can unpack the rest of your things after your bath. I shouldn’t be more than an hour, okay?”
I nodded and smiled.
I filled the sunken tub with vanilla bath oil. It was heavenly. I soaked in the bubbles, and then took the bath sponge, raising my leg out of the soapy water, and squeezed the sponge so that the water trickled down my leg. It was so relaxing. I turned the jets on just for shits and giggles and let the water hit my tired muscles.
Finally, I got down to business scrubbing the day’s dust from every inch of my body. I emptied the tub, and climbed out, grabbing one of the thick, thirsty bath towels that Trey had laid out for me, and drying my body off, then wrapping it snugly around my body, fastening it.
I opened the door from the bathroom and peered out into the rest of Trey’s suite. He was not back up yet, so I scurried over to my suitcase to get my short silk nightgown on. It fell about halfway between my hip and the top of my knee.
I grabbed my toothbrush and retreated back into the bathroom to brush and rinse. Finishing up I placed my toothbrush in the holder next to Trey’s. I liked the way it felt to be sharing his suite, if only for one night.
I moved my suitcase off of the bed. I was not going to unpack as Trey instructed because I was not staying here after tomorrow. It would be way too awkward.
It seemed as if more than an hour had passed. I was tired, so I pulled back the covers on Trey’s king-sized bed and crawled beneath the sheets. Oh my God, this was heaven.