Something Old

by Abigail Grey

  She nodded silently, not trusting her voice, and her body tensed. Matty smiled gently at her again and kissed her softly. He didn’t stop, and she relaxed and gave herself to the tangling of lips and tongues. She felt him, thicker than his fingers, begin to press inside her. Her pussy stretched around him, but she winced at the slight pain that came with it. She tensed again and Matt pulled away from her lips.

  “It’s okay, Claire. I’ve got you. Just you and me.” Claire stared into his eyes as his cock slid in and out of her slowly. He was tense, and she watched his face as the speed he fucked her increased. He moved his hand from beside her ear, landing on her breast where he squeezed and flicked at her nipple. “Claire, baby, I can’t—”

  She shook her head and kissed him softly. “It’s okay. It’s good.”

  Matt’s eyes and jaw were clenched closed as she watched him and reveled in the feeling of his dick pounding into her. He pulled away quickly then wrapped his hand around his cock for his finish. When he came, she was surprised at the heat as it splashed across her belly.

  They were both breathing hard, Claire laying on her back and Matt kneeling between her spread legs. As her mind resumed function, she became aware of the exposed position and slowly pressed her knees together to hide that intimate view from him.

  As they pulled their clothes back on, Matt scrambling to find her bra out in the grass, Claire panicked. The next day she left the sleepy town for grand adventures in the big city. She was sure she would return someday.

  Ten years later found her back with the person who’d so carefully taken her virginity in the bed of that truck.

  Matt’s hold was so different in strength from the shaky hesitation all those years ago when he wrapped his arms around her waist. He bent his head to press his lips to hers again, now firm and possessive. She tilted her head to him and let him deepen the kiss.

  As he lifted his head, a soft smile on his lips, Claire sighed in contentment. “Isn’t this so much better than that banquet room back there, surrounded by the past?”

  Matt’s smile disappeared. He pulled away from her and ran a hand through the hair he had let get unkempt. “Claire, I—” His gaze pinned her. “Why did you come back, if you don’t want to be here?”

  Claire took a surprised step back at the blunt question. “Well, you asked me to. I was weak for a minute and said I would, so here I am.” She peered at the expression on his face, growing concerned at the thunder she saw there. “Matty, what?”

  “God, Claire. It’s Matt!”

  She stared at him. Eager puppy Matty was glaring at her like he’d never seen her before. “Fine. Matt. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I guess I was just hoping you were back because—I don’t know—you actually wanted to be. You wanted to see everyone. Wanted to see… Maybe wanted to see if we could have been something. You know, before…” Matt’s shoulders dropped in dejection.

  Claire let out a chuckle. “Oh. Oh, Matty. Always such a good guy. You’re still a good kisser. I’m glad some things never change.” She reached out for him, ready to stroke his ego and try to soothe the pain of her leaving so long ago. She wanted to hold him close and assure him he wasn’t to blame for it, but she also wanted to feel the changes in his body, held against hers. Matt had grown into a man, one she now knew could hold all her pieces together, if only for the week.

  He stepped back, a hand up to ward her off. “Yeah. Well. Some things do.”

  Once again, the door closed behind him with a soft click, this time leaving her in the room alone.

  Chapter Four

  Matt stormed out to his truck in the parking lot. The trip down the stairs had done nothing to cool his outrage. What had happened to Claire? What happened to the girl he’d known?

  He kicked the tire of his truck before opening the driver’s side door. He stood in front of it for a moment, then slammed it closed as hard as he could. A few deep breaths later, he opened the door again and climbed in. He took even more deep breaths as he started the engine.

  The path he drove took him out to the shoreline. He parked at the foot of one of the massive dunes that formed a wall along the lake, protecting the town from wind and water spouts that would pop up with the summer storms. A hike up the dune was a physical struggle of sliding sand that Matt welcomed in his current mood. At the top, he pulled off the dress shoes he’d probably just ruined in his temper to escape somewhere solitary.

  As he stood at the peak of the dune, Matt let the sounds of the water wash over him. Even in the dark, he could see the white crest of the small waves curling onto the sand. The sounds and smells of the beach had always brought him peace in the darkest moments of his life. He watched the slow drift of lights, showing the path of boats as they made their way over the black waters. He could hear commotion down the beach, near the private homes that were surely hosting parties on a gorgeous June night like this one. He buried his toes until he reached the cool sand below the surface, wrapping his arms around his knees as he sat to stare out at the horizon.

  His thoughts raced, still trying to figure out the change in Claire. Looking different was to be expected—to a degree, of course. The woman he’d left in the hotel room had seemed like an entirely different person, though, and not like Claire at all.

  The Claire he remembered had vowed to never cut her long blonde hair. The girl he’d grown up with had loved the outdoors, had climbed into his truck with an awkward sort of agility. She’d been kind and generous, not scathing and cynical like that woman. His Claire had smiled genuinely, not with practiced insincerity.

  Matt’s anger melted away, surrounded by the quiet rush of waves and the subtle shift of the sand beneath him with each small adjustment of his position. The curiosity remained though, again making him wonder. What had happened to his Claire?

  * * * *

  Later in the evening—later than he was used to arriving home—Matt parked his truck outside the old downtown house. In the front window, he could see the flash of light that indicated his housemate was still awake.

  He locked the front door behind him, waved a quick hello to Jeremy—who pounded his fingers into the buttons of a gaming controller in response—then Matt took the stairs two at a time, retreating to his bedroom. The routine followed—keys on the squat bookcase next to the door, shoes toed off and kicked into the closet, button-up shirt pulled off over his head and tossed toward the often-overflowing hamper—then Matt finished the circuit of the room by dropping into the stool at his drafting table. He pulled a set of pages from their storage tube, swept an invisible layer of dust from the table’s surface then smoothed out the blueprints.

  He knew his memory of the old Parker place was fuzzy. He hadn’t been inside often, especially when he and Allison had been teenagers and her parents had been strictly ‘no boys allowed’. What he did remember was the outside. The house had been stately—a monument in the neighborhood—and Matt wanted desperately to bring that feeling back.

  The blueprint in front of him would sit on the same footprint as the previous house. All the exterior would be the same, from the steep, gabled roof down to the decorative milled lattice work on the foundations. Inside, though, he knew he would make adjustments. A more modern kitchen, of course, and the bedrooms would be larger than those in most traditional Victorian homes. He worked on a few minor changes, feeling pleased that this portion of his dream project felt close to done. It would likely be years down the road before it became reality, but Matt was glad to devote all his minimal spare time to its completion.

  Leaving his desk cluttered with plans and dreams, Matt stepped over to the bed that dominated the room. He picked up a braid of rope that had been haphazardly tossed there that morning. Flopping onto the comforter to stare at the ceiling, Matt couldn’t stop his thoughts from returning to Claire. Absently he unraveled the hemp bundle, running his fingers over the tightly wound cords. He crossed his ankle over his knee and stared at the ceiling as he lay on his back. The texture of t
he rope in his hand conjured a memory that never failed to make him smile.

  They couldn’t have been any older than ten. Claire had been one of those girls who rode bikes into the woods with the boys, not a prissy sort who turned her nose up at the thought of dirt. She still injected a bit of girl into their pretending, being the schoolmistress who scolded the raiding bank robbers or the treacherous witch who cursed the knights, but she played as freely and wildly as the boys. This time, she was the evil queen in the tower, guarding her treasure from the noble bandits. When she was defeated, surrounded by the boys who drew cardboard wrapping paper tube swords, she cackled with glee.

  “Why, I’ll simply turn into a crow and fly far away!” Before she could finish the spell, Matt had trapped her hands. The other kids had cheered him on as they wrestled in the dirt, but he emerged victorious, helped by his band of merry men. He stood smugly as Claire had fought against the rough twine, keeping her tied to the skinny birch tree.

  “Matty!” she’d shrieked, “let me go right now!”

  He had gotten closer, gloating with his victory. “Nope. Now you can never leave. You’ll stay here in my tower forever!”

  Matt cringed, remembering how much it had hurt when she’d hauled off and kicked him. He’d been lucky she knocked out the loose tooth, not a permanent one.

  Shaking his head, musing that women were never easy to understand, Matt continued practicing the speed of his single column tie. Around his leg twice, creating the loop, wrapping the bight over and under and around and through, the pattern was coming easier and easier the more he played with it. Satisfied with yet another project under way, Matt tossed the rope to the floor then turned off his light.

  Chapter Five

  Claire opened her eyes before her alarm sounded. Lying completely still under the unrumpled hotel sheets, she stared at the ceiling. Her first thought was the same as her last had been the previous night. What the hell was wrong with Matty?

  When the piercing horn blared, Claire slid out of the bed. One well-manicured finger slid over her phone’s screen, dismissing the obnoxious, discordant alarm. She showered and dressed quickly, blow-drying her hair while she read through the news stream on her laptop. She frowned at a surprisingly disappointing email from her potential buyer, but she moved on to scout other leads to work on after she returned from this trip back in time.

  Within an hour, the walls started to close in, leaving Claire feeling claustrophobic. She abandoned the bijou hotel room, laptop in tow, and sought caffeine. When a familiar green and white sign loomed down the block, Claire sighed in relief. She ordered her usual half-caff macchiato and settled at one of the café tables to continue working.

  The giggles were what got to her. She could deal with the slurping from the hipster discussing some documentary on the existential exploration of some ridiculous sect of society. Claire could ignore the infant slamming a sippy cup on the table and the mother absently droning on about no sleep and the mountains of laundry that her husband ignored. The key pounding of the author in the corner, recognized by the quantity of paper cups littering the table already, was even tolerable. The high-pitched giggling, though, was the nails against a chalkboard for Claire.

  “She looked okay, I guess, but did you see that husband of hers? Now he’s one I wouldn’t mind doing a little home-wrecking for!” The girlish giggle transformed to a cackle.

  “Marissa! You are so bad!” the responding voice scolded with no shame in its tone. “What would Ted say?”

  Claire looked up without lifting her head, realizing who she was about to see. Marissa Monroe stood near the service counter with two women who could have been carbon copies of her. The clothes they wore were too coordinated to be casual and too designer to be used for the workouts they implied. Claire could feel her lip curling in disgust as Marissa surveyed the room, zeroing in on Claire’s table.

  “Well, hi there, Claire-bear,” Marissa simpered, a smug pout to her over-glossed lips. “All alone this morning, huh? No old flames to fan?”

  Claire made a conscious effort to look at the other woman coolly. “None worth fanning, Marissa. Seems all the good old boys are taken.” Claire took a sip of her nearly cold espresso then slid her computer into the messenger bag she carried with her everywhere.

  A smug grin crossed Marissa’s lips. “Yeah, Ted did good.” The tanning bed refugees behind her tittered with glee at the quick comeback.

  Claire smiled serenely. “Oh, not him. I was talking about the hunk worth home-wrecking for, but I suppose Ted could have done worse.” In the shocked silence that followed, Claire stood, disposed of her cup then walked out of the coffee shop. Sliding into her car, Claire took a moment to once again check her work email, taking note of another correspondence about the property in the Lakeview neighborhood. It was clear she would have to spend some time wining and dining the buyer upon her return.

  The chattering noise brought Claire’s attention up. The yoga-pant twins scurried after Marissa then they stopped short in front of Claire’s rental. Claire felt the corner of her lips turn up as the three women stared at her flashy, current-model BMW sports car. Slipping her sunglasses on, Claire gave a cocky wave as she reversed out of the spot then drove away.

  Not far down the road from the unpleasant encounter, Claire parked in front of another familiar sign, a big box bookstore that she knew would have a seating area allowing her to continue working on generating leads for her real estate properties. After sending a few emails to first-time contacts, Claire was once again interrupted.

  “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Claire?”

  Claire looked up sharply, seeing a blonde woman bearing down on her with a petite brunette in tow. She smiled politely in response. “Hi, Kayla. How are you?”

  Kayla leaned in when she reached Claire, who responded with an air kiss to her cheek. To Claire’s surprise, the taller woman wrapped her arms around Claire’s shoulders and gave a steady, warm squeeze. Claire stiffened slightly, taken aback by the sincerity of the gesture. Kayla pulled away, her hands surely gripping Claire’s shoulders. She laughed at the shocked expression Claire gave her.

  A chuckle came from behind Kayla, as well. “Okay, Amazon, I think you’ve scared her.” Aaron Derrick, Kayla’s older brother, stepped close to the group, sliding his fingers into the grip of the smaller woman with them.

  “Hi, Aaron,” Claire replied.

  “I heard a rumor you were back for the reunion, but I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen you here.” Kayla exuded all the open honesty she had when the girls were young together. Without an invitation, she pulled a chair over to Claire’s table then sat. “Where the hell have you been, girl?”

  Gathering her composure, Claire gestured to Aaron and the woman he was apparently with. “Join us, why don’t you?” She held her hand out to the woman, adopting her professional smile. One never knew who could be a future client. “Hello, I’m Claire Wallace.”

  “Marcy Townsend. It’s lovely to meet you. Kayla mentioned you were here for the reunion this week.” As she spoke, Aaron pulled Marcy’s chair out for her, earning a grateful smile from the curvaceous girl.

  Claire felt her smile stiffen. “Yes. It’s been…an experience.” Noting the uncomfortable glance that Aaron and Kayla shared, she softened her tone. “The town certainly is different. I was surprised to see so many things had changed.”

  Kayla waved her comment off. “Yeah, yeah, things change. We’ve all grown up, gotten married, had kids, gotten fat, blah, blah, blah. What the hell happened to you?”

  Shock caused Claire’s jaw to drop. She shifted her gaze to Aaron. “So she hasn’t changed at all, has she?”

  Again Aaron chuckled. “Nope, she’s still a loudmouthed brat. Ow!” He bent to rub the ankle Kayla had kicked under the table.

  “Shut up, A-ron. Claire’s talking.” Kayla rested her elbow on the table and chin on her hand. “Come on, girly. You disappear after graduation for almost a decade, and now you s
how up all glamorous and stuff? What the hell?”

  Claire let her lips turn into the pasted-on smile she was used to wearing—professional, impersonal and wide. “Okay, okay! I went to the city, invested in a real estate venture, sold my car, went out on my own and now I’m here.” She shrugged. “There isn’t much to tell, to be honest.”

  “Bullshit.” Kayla’s curt response surprised Claire, but not as much as the laugh from Marcy did.

  “Kayla! Do you talk like that in front of your kids?” Marcy’s laughter was lighthearted, a clear partner to Aaron’s teasing tone with his sister.

  “You have kids?” Claire’s jaw hung open with her shock. “You? You said you were never having kids.”

  Kayla looked sheepish. “You’re right. I did say that. I just found a guy, I suppose.”

  “‘Found a guy’,” Aaron repeated, his tone mocking. “Kayla married Charles Wilson Baxter”—the three friends at Claire’s table completed the phrase together, in haughty unison—“the fourth.” Claire joined in their laughter.

  “You didn’t. You married that guy?”

  “And had two little monkeys.” Kayla’s cheeks reddened with pride as her grin grew brightly. “I was kind of surprised, too, but once he got away from his parents for college, he was actually kind of a decent guy.”

  Marcy scoffed. “You were saying he was more than ‘decent’ at our last book club.” Her eyebrows waggled suggestively, inspiring another round of laughter.

  “Well, yeah, there’s that, too.” Kayla’s smile turned into a smirk, hinting at the tenor of her meaning.

  Aaron covered his ears. “I don’t need to hear this. Little sisters don’t have sex.”

  Claire joined the girls in wicked cackling.

  “Fine, change the subject. Claire, are you going to the dedication tonight?” Kayla queried.

  Claire recalled the reunion schedule had mentioned the event. “It was in my plans, but I must have missed the details. What are they dedicating?”