by J. M. Adele
I cleared my throat, turning down the music as we drove to her mum’s. “I had a good time tonight. Thanks to you.”
“Me too, thanks to me. You had absolutely nothing to do with it.” She smiled at her interlaced fingers in her lap.
“Harsh.”
“Okay, you might’ve had a little bit to do with it.”
“My performance alone should warrant a higher rating than that.”
“You want a score out of five stars?” She raised her brows, a smirk on her face.
“Hit me.”
“Four and a half.”
Hm, not bad. But ... “Where’d the half a star go?”
She giggled, the sound revving me up even more. “The universe doesn’t allow perfection.”
“That depends on your idea of perfect.”
“What’s your idea of perfect?”
You. “I like things a little unpredictable. I like a bit of colour mixed in with my black and white. I like aiming for left of centre. That odd bit of something special thrown in to set me off balance—that’s my perfect.”
I waited for the comeback.
She was quiet. Too quiet.
I glanced over and caught her looking at me with hooded eyes, her chest rising and falling rapidly. My cock twitched. My lungs cramped. Clenching the steering wheel, I focused back on the road to avoid crashing the car.
Kelly had never made me react like this. Never.
I had been so fucking blind.
The timing hadn’t been right before. Maybe now ...
Pulling up to the curb in front of her house, I turned off the engine.
“Here we are.”
“Home sweet home.” She smiled.
“Can we—” My throat closed off the sentence without warning. I swallowed, twisting towards her. “I’d like to start over. Take you on a date. Maybe a movie?”
Her smile spread slowly. Beautifully. “That depends. What are we watching?”
Elation hit me like a Mack truck. Was that a yes? “Whatever you want to watch—I don’t care.” My eyes would no doubt be straying to the girl sitting beside me. She could tell me she wanted to watch My Little Pony and I’d agree.
“Quantum of Solace?”
My grin was instant.
And her taste in movies is badass.
Perfect.
Emmeline
Hampshire, England
16th of August, 1866
I lifted my shoulders, deliberately pushing my stomach out as Marybeth tightened the ties of my corset. Touching my braided chignon, I ensured that the pins had not fallen free. Light poured in through the lace curtains, bathing me in its reflected glow in the mirror. I leaned forward, noticing a few extra freckles across my nose, a blessing from the sun. My feet itched to be out in its direct glory.
In the last few years, I had taken to enjoying outings to satisfy my craving for something more than a luncheon of sandwiches and an afternoon of embroidery. Although he was pleased that my sweet tooth had gained some control, my father would be most displeased if he were to uncover the truth behind my afternoon jaunts.
Marybeth, my chambermaid, was quite happy to provide cover so she could carry on an illicit affair with my uncle, Tobias. He was betrothed to another—a rather arduous ordeal for both parties if one was to read their body language correctly when poor Lady Margaret endured weekly visits to the estate for luncheon of a Friday afternoon.
Tobias and Marybeth thought their rendezvous were discreet. Perhaps anywhere other than the glasshouse would have been a more suitable choice where the pitiful greenery and the calcified ghosts of raindrops on glass provided minimal cover.
Sometimes I’d entertained myself by spying on them through the panes, listening to Marybeth’s high-pitched squeals as the flash of pale, white buttocks clenched and thrusted atop her body. Uncle Tobias grunted like a boar, while the maid’s vocalisations resembled that of a piglet. It was all quite incestuous. And ... amusing.
Tobias always returned to the house first, leaving his mistress to wait an hour or so in the humid, loamy air. Without fail, his coat and the knees of his trousers sported patches of dirt, making a mockery of his cries of innocence when confronted by his sister, my mother. He purported to be extremely fond of gardening.
He did rather enjoy planting his seed, as it were.
If it was a wife’s duty to be rutted upon by a boar, I wanted no part of marriage.
I had finally grown tired of the show and taken to borrowing a horse. Give me the open fields and the wind in my hair, and I was most content. And if the opportunity arose for me to cross paths with Sebastian, my contentment brimmed over into joy.
If my father were to find out, it would surely mean an end to my afternoon rides, and an end to Tobias’s affair. Hence, it was advantageous for all involved if tongues were kept caged behind tight lips. I’d been sure to point this out to my chambermaid, who’d agreed, albeit peevishly.
“I shall be taking my leave earlier this morn.”
“No, miss. Your mother requires your presence in the drawing room.”
I tutted, pulling on a corset cover. “What the devil does she want now?”
Marybeth’s eyes flitted to the mirror, but did not raise to the level of mine. “She has an urgent matter to discuss.” She reached for the crinoline.
“I refuse to wear that ghastly contraption of torture. Let us try layers of ruffled petticoats.” I added a smile to soften my delivery. I would simply remove several of the layers before embarking on my outing.
She bowed her head, fetching the muslin.
“Mother’s urgency is usually another’s trivial passing thought.”
“She was quite insistent, miss.”
But of course. That was Mother’s nature. Should I choose to ignore her request and satisfy my own urgent need, I would surely expose both my own and Marybeth’s deceit.
She brought over a pretty, blue silk dress with white ribbon trim.
It would not do. Not in the least. “Where is my Garibaldi shirt and the dark blue skirt?”
“Your mother has requested that you wear this.”
That could only mean one thing. She was expecting a visitor. Releasing a sigh, I bowed my head for the maid to lower the dress over my head.
It would do. For now.
Moments later, I found myself perched on the edge of the French settee in the drawing room, sipping tea with my mother and Lady Victoria of Pembrokeshire. A severe-looking woman, she wore a deep brown silk dress with the barest lace ruffle at her throat. Her greying hair was pulled back in the style Queen Victoria herself favoured.
Puffy pale grey eyes held me in their piercing stare. “She’s quite the beauty, Lady Olivia. What is her age?”
“I have just turned sixteen years this July.” Why she would not address her question directly to me, I had no clue. I sipped a little too loudly, drawing a disapproving look from Mother.
She cleared her throat. “As you can see, Emmeline is quite mature for her age and equally headstrong.” She flashed her eyes at me in warning.
“Headstrong is not a quality a woman should possess. My Reginald will beat it out of her.”
I lowered my cup, clinking it on the saucer. “May I ask of whom you are speaking?”
Her shoulders rose as she lifted her chin. “My son, Reginald Fortescue the Third, Earl of Pembroke.”
The Third? How alarming. “Why exactly would he feel the need to beat me?”
“As your husband, he will have the right to treat you as he sees fit.”
“Indeed.” I pursed my lips together, my eyes trained on the ornate rug at my feet. I begged them not to water. “When might I be expecting the nuptials?”
“In your seventeenth year, my dear. The earl is currently on a sojourn in India. Upon his return, he shall make you his wife.”
I would prefer a sudden painful death.
“Indeed.” I swallowed against the rising tide of bile threatening to spill. “If you’ll excuse me, I
must retire to my rooms. I feel quite unwell. Please enjoy your visit, Lady Victoria.” For you shall surely burn in hell when the devil sees fit.
I gave a curtsey to each of them before taking my leave, hurrying to the rear courtyard. A nearby garden bed provided a place for my stomach to empty of its contents. My throat burned. I ducked through the scullery and into the kitchen, in search of a pitcher of water and a cup.
“Everything all right, miss?” The maids hurried around, completing their chores.
My visits to the servants’ quarters had been frequent when I was younger. I’d become aware of the inner workings of the household and the hours of labour it took to keep our home functioning. However, in recent years my visits had declined. The steward frowned upon my association with the staff.
“Yes, quite. Please disregard my presence.”
I found what I was looking for, washing down the bitter taste and taking an apple to cleanse my mouth.
I inspected the pale pristine silk I wore. A dress chosen by my mother. Pretty, delicate, feminine. Hardly me at all. And the man she’d chosen to be my husband—a beast by his mother’s account. Neither of Mother’s choices were particularly palatable.
If I had no say regarding to whom I would be tethered for life, I could certainly decide never to wear this dress again. What, then, would it matter if I were to ruin the silk by taking a horse and riding as far as I could go?
_____
Andrea
Rockhampton, Australia
21st of November 2008
The Monday after Johnno’s party, Ben surprised me by waiting outside the school gates to give me and our siblings a lift home. It sure beat walking in the sweltering heat. He’d come back every afternoon for two weeks. I guessed there was one advantage to the early starts the tradies endured. They generally clocked off early, too. It had been two hours since he’d dropped us home, and two weeks since he’d asked me out on a date. He’d be back to pick me up in two minutes.
Pulling the lounge room curtains aside, I surveyed the street for the blue Hilux.
“Looking out the window isn’t gonna make him arrive any sooner.” Bree laughed.
“I know. I’m just checking.”
I walked to the mirror in the entry, searching for lipstick smudges on my teeth and discovered that I had sweat patches under my boobs.
“Oh, my God. I’ve got boob-sweat! Why didn’t you tell me?!” I dashed to my room, ripping off my tank top before snatching a bunch of tissues from the box. Flinging the sweaty bra across the room, I yanked open my lingerie drawer.
Crap, crap, crap. Where are my goddamn bras?
I wedged tissues under my breasts and twisted the fan switch until the conditions in my room became cyclonic. Bloody tropical bullshit. Spotting my washing basket overflowing in the corner of the room, I dug through it until I came across a bra. Hot pink lace. It’ll do. I really needed to fold my washing. And now I had to change my whole outfit. The pink showed through everything but dark colours. Coat hangers scraped along the metal rail in my wardrobe as I sorted through possible candidates. Guys didn’t have to worry about shit like this. They wore T-shirts and shorts. Unless they were wearing white shorts. Then they had to worry. I’d seen a guy in the line at the grocery store once, wearing red undies under white shorts. It wasn’t a good look.
Focus, focus, focus.
“Andy!” Bree gave me a shout.
“I’ll be out in a minute.” Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I found a black tank dress and tossed it over my head before realising that I hadn’t put the bra on yet. After fixing the problem, I sprayed more deodorant and went out to greet him.
Oh, he’s delicious. “Hi,” I breathed, the sight of him stealing my voice.
His T-shirt fit him snug across the chest and biceps, and cargo shorts gave me a glimpse of powerful legs. The shorts were khaki green. What colour undies was he wearing?
“You ready to go?”
Since I met you, yes.
His lips tilted in a crooked smile as he muffled a laugh.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
“Yep,” Bree answered for him.
Jesus.
“I’ll see you later.” I widened my eyes at Bree before calling out to the parents. “Bye, Mum. Bye, Peter.”
Mum poked her head around the corner. “Bye, kids. Have fun.”
“Don’t be late,” Pete yelled from the living room.
“Oh, Peter,” Mum scoffed. “It’s fine. I know Ben will look after you.”
I gave her a hug and skipped out the door.
“Wait up.” Ben jogged ahead, opening the door for me.
Did guys still do that in this day and age? I guessed they did. I kinda liked it.
He closed us in, clipping on his seat belt before leaning towards me. My lungs nearly collapsed at his close proximity. His hooded stare was unnerving in all the right ways. And then he spoke.
“You have a tissue stuck under your armpit.”
Oh, my fucking God. My stomach sank through the floor. I fished the offending item from said pit before blurting, “I had boob sweat.”
Jesus H. Christ.
“Left of centre,” he murmured, a smirk on his face. “Don’t sweat it, Andy.” He bit his lip, obviously fighting a smile. “I guess you already did though, huh?” Bursting into laughter, he started the car.
I had to laugh. It was stupidly hilarious. But I sincerely hoped it wasn’t a story he’d be telling our grandchildren.
“Your mum and Peter seemed okay with me taking you out.”
“Yeah. They’re cool.”
“I’m looking forward to spending time with you without Stewart being around.”
“Oh, God. Me too.”
“Did you tell him we were going out?” He concentrated on the road, appearing relaxed, but I sensed a waver in his tone. Was he having doubts?
“No. Did you?”
“Nope.”
“He’ll find out eventually. Do you find it weird, dating your friend’s younger sister?”
He reached over and interlaced our hands, resting them on my thigh. “No. Stewart no longer comes to mind when I see your face.”
That was a relief.
I dropped my eyes to our hands. The warmth spread through my dress and sent tingles up my thigh. I chewed on my lips and dragged in some air. Reaching over to the vent, I pointed it at my breasts, and discreetly turned up the fan speed. No boob sweat.
Ten minutes later, we made it to the ticket counter before purchasing some snacks to take in. Turning around, I spotted Lee with his girlfriend, Larissa. She was tall and so thin she might snap if she sneezed. Her eyes roamed the crowd, running up and down the female competition with disapproval.
“Hey.” I waved and caught Lee’s eye.
He pulled her towards us to say hello. “Andy. And Benny. Together. This is a surpr—actually, no, it’s not. Not at all. I saw this coming a mile away. So, do we call you Bendy now, or what?”
“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” Ben warned.
“How are you, Lee Lee?” I gave him a hug.
“Yeah, good. What movie are you going to see?”
“Double-oh-seven. What about you guys?”
He hesitated, giving Larissa cause to cut in. “Twilight.”
“Oh, good. That should be ... interesting.” I ordered my cheeks to pull the corners of my mouth up.
Glancing at Ben, I found him chewing on the corner of his lip, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “How’ve you been, Larissa?”
“Good.” Looking anywhere but at us, she tugged on Lee’s hand.
My eyes widened before I controlled them. Was this chick for real? I schooled my features and addressed Lee. “How is Letitia? I haven’t seen her in ages.”
“She’s doing great. The school holds a robotics club one afternoon a week, so she’s learning all about the programming and mechanics of that. Dad passed her his engineering genes.”
“You got them too, though.�
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“Maybe. We just found out Mum and Dad are planning a second honeymoon to Daydream Island next winter so it’ll just be me and Tish for a week. She’s not impressed that I’ll be in charge.”
The room blurred in and out of focus. Ice trickled into my veins. The back of my neck burst into a bonfire. The word dead popped into my head. “No.”
Lee’s head reared back. “No, what?”
“Don’t let them go.”
Plane crash. Dead. Plane crash. Dead.
The warning played on a loop as Lee looked at me strangely.
“Of course I’m gonna let them go. As if I can stop them. Have you been smoking the wacky weed?”
“Don’t let them get on that plane,” I begged, grabbing onto his arm before Larissa pushed me off.
“What are you doing, freak? Bradlee, we’re going.”
“Yeah, okay. I’ll see you guys later. Enjoy that movie.” He was still frowning at me as he let her lead him away.
“What was that about?” Ben reached for my hand.
I bit my lip, tears welling in my eyes as our stares locked.
No more death. Please, please, please.
“I—” Blowing out a slow breath, I frantically rubbed at the nape of my neck. “There’s something—” I growled, frustrated with myself. “Do you remember me telling you how I know stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“I think something bad is going to happen to Bradlee’s parents.”
“For real?”
“Yeah. I felt it even stronger than I felt what was around Jess.”
Ben tucked me under his arm and steered me to a quieter spot. “We don’t have to see the movie. I can take you home if you need.”
I shook my head. “No. I’ll be fine. I just need to get my mind off it. I could be wrong, right?”
“I hope you are. No offense.”
“None taken.” I reached up and locked my hand with his. “Let’s go in. It’s about to start.”
We lifted the armrest between our seats so I could cuddle into his side. He fed me popcorn as I watched the movie playing in my mind rather than the one on the screen. Jess’s face. The news reports on her disappearance. Her mother pleading for her return. Brad and Tish sharing a tube ride. His parents on the sideline at his rugby game, cheering him on. All it took was one bad decision, or one ill-timed move, and everything could come crashing down.