Fire Down Below

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Fire Down Below Page 36

by Andrea Simonne


  He pushes under my robe to grip my bottom. “Now this is what I call gratitude.” His hands slide further up my bathrobe then cup my breasts. “How appreciative are you?”

  “Very appreciative,” I say seductively.

  He pulls me in close and puts his mouth to my ear. “Talk to me. You know what I like.”

  “First...I’m going slip out of this bathrobe.”

  “That’s right,” he nods slowly. “And then...?”

  “And then I’m going to put this chess board on the table over there.”

  “Keep going.”

  “And then we’re going to play chess!”

  He draws back and looks at me. “What?”

  “I want to play chess with you.”

  “Right now? You can’t leave me like this.” He motions down to the obvious erection pushing out his jeans.

  “It’ll be fun to let all this sexual energy between us simmer for a while.”

  Declan studies me and then starts to chuckle. “Damn,” he says softly, “you’re good. You’re already in strategy mode aren’t you?”

  “Who me?” I ask innocently.

  “This is going to be an interesting game.”

  ***

  Declan allows me to be white. I tell him we can flip for it, but he says it’s all right, that he’s feeling generous. I hope he isn’t going to go into chivalrous mode and start thinking he needs to help me. I hate being underestimated like that.

  I decide to open with a Sicilian Defense. It’s sometimes used at the master chess level and I’m curious to see if he knows it. I discover that he knows it well as he immediately turns it into the Dragon.

  Glancing at him, I smile. He’s not going to hold back or treat me like a dumb girl. He’s going to play his best game. I should have known when he handed me my clothes and told me to get dressed in the bathroom. At first I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t.

  “I’ll just wear my bathrobe. I don’t need to get dressed,” I tell him.

  “Yes, you do. I’ll never be able to concentrate with you flashing that body at me throughout the entire game.”

  “You mean like this?” I slowly pull my robe apart, allowing him in a nice long eyeful. It turns me on to think he’d have a hard time concentrating because of my body.

  He looks me over, lingering on all the important parts. “If you don’t get dressed, I won’t be responsible for what happens.”

  “Oh? What’s going to happen?”

  He moves close to me and speaks in a low voice. “I’m going to bend you over this table and fuck you while we’re playing chess.”

  Oh my.

  “I guess I’ll go into the bathroom and change now,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  “That would be best.”

  And so our game is the real thing. Declan is playing for blood and so am I. As the game progresses it’s clear that he knows his way around a chess board. He’s an aggressive player, but mostly he’s an incredible strategist. I feel like I can’t let my guard down for a second. It’s exhilarating.

  “And here I was worried that you’d go easy on me,” I say teasingly.

  “I’ve been watching you for two years, Kate. I know how smart you are.”

  I feel absurdly pleased by the compliment. I don’t think any guy I’ve been with has ever complimented me on my brain before.

  Our game continues into the late afternoon. My legs feel cramped from sitting in a chair for so long that I have to get up and stretch. I grab my camera and take a few photos.

  I’m playing a good game, but Declan is winning. I can’t seem to outthink him. He’s always one step ahead of me. I know I should forfeit, because there’s no way I’m going to checkmate him at this point, but I stubbornly continue on.

  It’s my turn and I contemplate my next move. I’ve been staring at the board for five minutes. Declan raises his eyebrow.

  “I’m not giving up!”

  He shrugs, but doesn’t say anything. And that’s when I see it. He’s got me. In two moves I’ll be checkmated.

  “Darn,” I say, and knock my king over.

  Declan stretches slowly, making a show of putting both hands behind his head. He gives me a triumphant grin. “Don’t take it too badly. You played a damn good game. You’re the best opponent I’ve had in ages.”

  “Thank you.” And the truth is I don’t feel bad at all. He’s right, it was a great game. “That combination with your bishop right after you castled was a thing of beauty,” I tell him.

  “You had some good moves too. Your discovered attacks—especially the one with your queen—very nice.”

  “Have you played at the tournament level?”

  “No, something much tougher—the pub level. My da and I used to hang out at a pub near our house and I’d play chess with him and all the other old guys. We’d go every weekend.”

  “So you learned by playing chess with your dad just like I did.”

  He nods, and turns back to the board. “We should pack this up now.” There’s a sly grin on his face. “And I probably should have warned you Kate, but to the victor comes the spoils.”

  “The spoils?”

  “Yes, as in I am the victor, you are the spoils.” His eyes scan me slowly as if deciding how best to proceed. “Take your clothes off.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “What is it with you ordering me to strip?”

  “Don’t make me tell you twice.”

  “Next time I’m winning at chess,” I grumble as I pull my t-shirt overhead.

  He walks around me as I undress. “I’ll be looking forward to that, but in the meantime you’re mine and I plan to do...things...to you.”

  I feel a sliver of excitement pulse through me. “What sorts of things?”

  “All sorts.”

  I soon discover the sorts of things he’s talking about. They involve chocolate and Declan’s imagination—which has already won numerous gold medals in the sport of naughtiness.

  “I’m going to lick chocolate off of you here,” he tells me, brushing a truffle over my nipples, “and then here,” he slides it down to stroke my belly. “And best of all....” I let out a soft moan, as Declan caresses me between my legs. “Here.”

  “I never knew there were so many creative ways to use chocolate,” I breathe.

  “There are,” he murmurs. “And you’re going to experience every single one of them.”

  ***

  Later that night, I grab my camera and take some photos. Declan looks so handsome sprawled amidst the white bed sheets that I can’t resist. When he grins lazily at me I feel my heart doing a flip flop inside my chest.

  “Let me see that camera.”

  I hand it over and he starts taking pictures of me too. “Hey!” I yelp and jump into bed. “I’m naked here! You can’t take pictures!”

  “That didn’t stop you from taking them of me—now did it?” He tugs at the sheet I’ve wrapped tightly around myself. “Come on, let’s see a little something. You’ve got nothing to be shy about.”

  I slip a leg out and let the sheet ride up my hip.

  “Give me more, Baby, more.” He starts clicking away and I finally figure, what the hell, and let the sheet drop away.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. I like it. Maybe you could touch yourself a little—you know, and think of me?”

  “What? I’m not doing that!”

  Declan laughs at the incredulous expression on my face. “I’m just trying to be creative. It’s art.”

  “Yeah, right. Is that what they’re calling it these days? Next thing I know you’ll be suggesting we put them on the Internet.”

  “No way. These are for my private collection only.”

  “I see.”

  He lies back on the bed and puts the camera down. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Okay,” I say, wondering what it could be. He seems serious all of a sudden.

  “Why is it you never finished that painting of me?”

  I’m q
uiet now and I feel bad, like I’ve broken a promise or something. “I’m not sure. I got so distracted with all the other things going on in my life, I guess.”

  He doesn’t say anything more, but we both know I’m talking about Ben.

  I think back to that evening. Back to that magnificent kiss, and how awkward it became afterward. “You don’t know how sorry I am about what happened that night when you kissed me. I know how awful that was.”

  Declan grows still. “Were you sorry that I kissed you?”

  “No. That’s not what I mean.”

  “Because I wanted you and it felt like you wanted me too.”

  “I did.”

  His jaw tightens. “Then why did you push me away?”

  I’m silent as I ponder this. “I think I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Should I not have told you what I was like when I was younger? I figured you could handle it, that you knew me well enough.”

  “That’s not why I was afraid.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, I was afraid because....” I trail off trying to figure out how to put this in words. How do I explain that I was afraid because I knew if I started something with him it would be serious. “I knew a fling wouldn’t be enough for you. You wanted something more from me, something real.”

  “And you didn’t want that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve been hurt before. I’ve allowed my past to make me a coward.”

  He studies me for a while, thinking this over. And then he touches me. Running his fingers over my cheeks, lips, and then down to my chin.

  “Are you still a coward, Kate?”

  And as he’s waiting for my answer, I feel ashamed. I’m ashamed to admit that I still feel scared.

  “Because I’m not someone who does things by half measures. You know that about me already.”

  “I know,” I whisper.

  ***

  The next morning I’m standing down in the hotel lobby with Declan while he checks us out of The Clarence. I’m staring into space when I suddenly notice a man walk past. He’s wearing a black wool pea coat and pale blue wraparound sunglasses. For a second it doesn’t register, but then I feel a shot of adrenaline as I watch him disappear around the corner.

  “B-B-Bono,” I stammer as I reach out and grab Declan’s arm.

  He looks at me quizzically. “What’s wrong?”

  “I just saw Bono!” I manage to say in a squeaking voice.

  He finishes signing the credit card receipts and glances around. “I don’t see him.”

  “That’s because he left the lobby. Come on, let’s go find him!”

  We search the ground floor of the hotel, peeking in the restaurant and then the Tea Room, but don’t see him anywhere.

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “Yes, I’m sure!”

  We walk into the Octagon Bar and right away I spot him. I can barely believe my eyes. He looks just like he does in photographs, only shorter. It really is true what they say about celebrities looking smaller in real life. I stop in the doorway with Declan right behind me. “Over there!” I hiss, motioning with my head.

  He follows my line of sight. “Well, I’ll be damned. You got lucky.”

  I stand there frozen, staring at Bono who’s leaning against the bar talking with a couple of guys.

  “What should we do?” I whisper frantically.

  “Let’s go over and say hello.”

  “But I thought you said Dubliners have to leave him alone. That it’s some kind of unspoken law!”

  He takes my hand and leads me. “Come on, there’s always an exception. Besides you’re from the states.”

  I feel so nervous that I could pee my pants. It would be thrilling to meet Bono! To my amazement when we get up to the bar Declan walks over and starts talking to him as if he were a regular person. He tells Bono that he’s sorry to interrupt, but that we wanted to say a quick hello—that Kate here is a tremendous fan.

  And then suddenly Bono is looking at me.

  “Hello Kate, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “H-h-hello,” I manage to say. “I...love you. I mean, I love your music. It’s so great.”

  “Thank you,” he nods. “It’s always nice to hear that.”

  I stand there and stare at him. I know I should say something more, but I can’t think of a single thing. My mind is as blank as snow. It’s all I can do to keep breathing normally. I must have a gallon of adrenaline sloshing through me.

  “Perhaps you’d like an autograph?” Bono asks.

  “Yes!” I nod frantically. “That would be great!”

  He turns to his companions and asks if either of them has pen and paper. One of them points over behind the bar and says there should be some in a drawer by the cash register. It’s early morning and the bar isn’t even open yet.

  “I’ll grab it,” Declan says, walking over towards the cash register. “Which drawer did you say it was in?”

  “Bottom one,” the guy responds.

  While Declan is rooting through the drawer Bono is studying me with an amused expression. Meanwhile I’m staring at him like a mental patient who thinks she’s seen Jesus.

  “I’m not usually this stupid,” I say.

  He chuckles.

  I just made Bono laugh!

  “Don’t worry, I’m used to it. So you’re here visiting Ireland?”

  I nod, “Yes, I’m from Seattle. Declan is from Dublin.”

  Declan comes back over then with a pen and some yellow notepaper. “This should do,” he says, handing it to Bono, who takes it and puts it on the bar. I watch as he writes something for a few seconds. Then he tears off a sheet and hands it to me.

  “Thank you,” I say, clutching it like it’s the Shroud of Turin.

  “Yes, thank you for that,” Declan says.

  “So you’re a Dubliner?” Bono asks him.

  “I am. I used to watch you guys play at the Sentinel years ago.”

  “The Sentinel?” Bono looks at him with surprise. “That hellhole up on the Northside? I remember that pub. It was crazy every night.”

  “It was,” Declan agrees with a grin, “I think even the Garda were afraid to go inside.”

  “I fecking loved that place.”

  “Me too.”

  Bono gives him an assessing gaze. “Declan, is it?” He puts his hand out towards him. “Good to meet you.”

  Declan reaches over and gives Bono’s hand a strong shake. “It’s an honor.”

  Afterwards, as we’re walking around Temple Bar, I’m so high on adrenaline that I’m bouncing all over the sidewalk.

  “We met Bono! I can’t believe it! Wasn’t that amazing? And—oh my God—you were like bonding with him or something!”

  “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

  “And wasn’t he totally nice? I thought he was really nice.”

  “He’s a good man,” Declan agrees.

  “I can’t believe we met him! You have to admit that was really cool, come on.”

  “Yes, Kate,” he says, smiling at me. “That was definitely cool.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It’s my last day here and Declan’s sister Siobahn wants us to come over for dinner. They’re all such warm people that I know I’m going to miss them. I can’t believe my time in Ireland is already over. It feels like I’ve been here a lot longer than two weeks. So much has changed for me.

  Declan comes to my room while I’m packing some of my things, cramming everything I can into my one lone carry-on bag, though I don’t see how it’s all going to fit. With all the gifts I’ve bought for everyone I have way more stuff than when I arrived.

  “There’s something I need to do today.”

  “Oh?” I glance over at him. “Okay. Well, that’s fine. I can stay here and do laundry and finish packing.”

  He’s wearing a solemn expression. “It’s something I do every time I come home and I was thinking—maybe you’d like to come wit
h me?”

  There’s a strange note in his voice that gets my attention. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong.” He moves towards the door. “Do you think you’ll be ready to go in ten minutes?”

  “Sure.”

  Declan is quiet in the car. I keep thinking back to our conversation the other day and wonder if he’s angry or disappointed with me. I wish I wasn’t so mixed up about my feelings. I want Declan so much, but I feel myself slipping back into my old pattern. I’m afraid to let myself go. What if he breaks my heart? How would I survive that?

  “We’re here.”

  I look around. I’ve been so deep in thought that I wasn’t even paying attention to where we were driving. It’s obvious we’re in a cemetery. “What is this place?”

  “My father’s buried here.” Declan turns in his seat to face me. “I don’t know why I brought you. It felt right somehow. I’ll understand if you’re uncomfortable and want to wait for me in the car.”

  I stare out at the scene in front of me. In truth there’s a wimpy part of myself that would rather stay here, but then I think about how Declan is willing to share this with me.

  “I want to come with you.”

  He gives me a curt nod and we both get out of the car. It’s quite chilly and I wrap the wool scarf his mother made me for Christmas around my neck. We walk down a narrow path. It isn’t like the cemeteries in the states where so many head stones are flat on the ground or similarly unobtrusive. Almost all of the graves here have big Irish crosses on them and are crowded close together. I follow Declan through some winding footpaths. Finally we stop at the end of a row and looking at the headstone beneath the cross, I see this is Declan’s father—Brian O’Connor. Most of the writing is in Irish, but at least I recognize his name.

  Declan puts the flowers down and squats next to the grave.

  “It’s good to be here Da,” he says quietly. “A lot has happened this past year.”

  I stand silently behind Declan and listen as he tells his father about starting his own business, about how hard he’s been working at it. He tells him about the software he and Sev have been developing and about some of the press they’ve been getting. Declan talks about the fears he’s had, the self-doubt, and how hard it is to push that aside sometimes. I have an uneasy sense of eavesdropping on a private conservation, but Declan knows I’m here. Plus I couldn’t pull myself away if I wanted to. It’s touching to hear him talk about having self-doubt because he’s one of the most confident people I know.

 

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