The streetlights are on and cars line the opposite side of the road. I can see my uncles, Vicki, and some distant family members though the city windows. The inside glows yellow with light, from the old light fittings hanging low on the dark wooden ceiling.
The door chimes when we push it open. The brass handle is tarnished and discolored. It goes quiet as we enter, and everyone looks up from their drinks at us.
Ailee blushes red. It’s the first time she’s had color in her face today. She looks so beautiful. The silence changes back to bar noise, laughter, conversations in the only volume Italians have – loud. Still holding her hand we wend through the bodies and tables, to the booth where my father and sister are sitting with two of my uncles. They move around the big round table, so there is space for us next to Viv.
“I wondered if you two got lost?” she says to Ailee, who scoots in beside her.
“We needed to have a talk,” I say, cutting my sister short before she can make Ailee uncomfortable.
A waitress comes to take our order. Her ponytail is too high and her skirt is too short. She looks like a hooker.
“What can I get ya?” She’s new, and not from here.
“Soda water and …” I turn to Ailee.
“Vodka cranberry, please,” she says, smiling at the underdressed server.
I won’t argue. She probably needs a vodka after this weekend. Hell, I need one. Her leg touches mine under the table as she crosses them to sit more comfortably.
My father and his brothers are arguing in Italian. I only understand every fourth word because they speak so fast. Their hands move as fast as their lips, and as the evening and drinks wear on they become more animated, their expressions and gesticulations are as loud as their laughter.
Viviana and Ailee have switched vodka for wine, and they are three bottles in, giggling and talking in whispers. I’m envious of my sister, and have sat here fighting the desire to take her away from them all and lock her away for myself.
When she was away from us she was just mine. I could watch her and not share her with them. Now I feel like they are taking her from me before I’ve even had a chance.
The two girls excuse themselves to the ladies room, so I get up and let them out, sitting next to my father. We start talking business, and family politics.
I’m sucked into their conversation and don’t notice the girls haven’t returned. I spin the highball glass in my hands as I scan the room looking for them, trying to spot their clothes in the crowded bar.
There are two vacated tables still full of empty glasses and half finished drinks that haven’t been cleared yet, and behind it I see them. My sister is talking to some man. Ailee stands with her, staring at me from across the room. She sways a little, drunk, and then motions for me to come over, waving her hand, calling me.
“I’ll be back,” I say to my father, as I start to move out from the table.
He looks up and sees where I’m going. “Take her home, son. It’s been a long day and she’s had too much to drink, your sister too, before she makes a scene.”
Shaking my uncles hands I say goodnight and go to take my wife and sister home. Viv wouldn’t come with me and started to throw a tantrum, so I left her, but took her car keys with me.
Ailee staggered out beside me. When she stumbled on the sidewalk and burst out laughing, I took the chance to scoop her up in my arms and carry her to the car.
“You know you are very handsome for a horrible person,” she says, holding onto my neck, looking into my eyes. “It’s hard to hate you when you look like …” She waves a hand in front of my face. “ … this.”
Her words slur and she nuzzles her head into my neck.
She slides down the front of my body when I stand her on the edge of the sidewalk so I can open the door for her. Lifting her up again I put her inside and buckle her seatbelt, before I go around to the driver’s side.
Stopping to just take a breath, I remind myself that she’s drunk, before I get in. When I do she has taken her seatbelt off and leans right over against me. I can smell her. She smells like her bedroom would when I snuck in, like flowers and sweetness. Soft and fragile, and very, very drunk.
“Put your belt on, Ailee.” I ask her nicely.
“No, I want to be near you,” she slurs, and leans over more.
“I need to drive, and you’re drunk, Ailee.” I try to move her a little. “Put your seatbelt on please.”
“I’m drunk, yes I’m fucking drunk. And you know what? It makes you look less like a murderer and more like someone I might like. So just let me be drunk and stupid. I can cry to my friends at work tomorrow when I have a hangover and regrets. Right now though, I’m trying to see what your family keeps telling me is in there.” She pokes me in the chest where my heart is, hard enough that it hurts a little. “Or don’t you like girls like that? Do you prefer boys, Rain?”
She strikes a raw nerve, and any resolve I had to be a gentleman is gone. Fuck it.
“Ailee, you’re playing with fire. You are drunk. Put the seatbelt on.”
She gets the most defiant look in her eyes, like a child that’s about to touch the one thing their mother told them not to. Reaching over, she grabs my belt buckle and yanks on it.
“This belt?” she says, slowly starting to unbuckle it. The car idles, because there is no way I can drive with her hands there. “I’ll put it on.”
She rips it out of the loops with a hard yank, and hangs it over her shoulders. I shut my eyes and bite my tongue. Taking a breath, her playfulness is enticing me to want things that I know would be wrong to take like this.
Ignoring her, I pull onto the road and drive past the still full bar towards home. I am driving dangerously fast as she puts her hand on my thigh, batting those long dark lashes at me.
This is wrong. I know how she feels, she told me. But, I know how I feel and I want her to feel it. Maybe this will help.
I reason and bargain with myself all the way home, until we are parked inside the garage and the door has closed behind us. We just sit in the darkness. In the vehicle her scent makes it hard to think, and the sound of our breathing is all I can hear.
“Ailee, you’ve been drinking. I can’t,” I hiss, as her head moves further north.
“You can’t, but I can. Rain, show me this good man. The one that Viv says is in love with me. I’m giving you a chance because I’m drunk. I know I’m making a bad decision, but I am making it. I won’t be mad at you.”
Her breath tickles my skin where she whispers in my ear.
Chemistry sparks between us and I feel my heart pounding in my chest – and my dick. The exact two body parts I should not be thinking with.
“Okay,” I say, turning to kiss her plump and pouty lips.
I pull the elastic out of her long hair and let it fall loose, so I can run my fingers through it.
“Hmm.” She lets out a small moan of appreciation.
“Not in the car, let’s go inside.” I feel for the door handle, still kissing her, and open so we can get out of the car.
I step out backwards, then pull her over the center and lift her out of the car. She wraps her legs around me, squeezing tight. I shove the door closed, and carry her into the house and to my room.
Our room, it’s our room now.
She’s kissing me now, hard and desperate. She pulls my beard to keep me where she wants me. I kick the door shut and walk until I connect with the bed. I’m not going to stop her, but I am going to let her be in control. I won’t force her, or hurt her.
I sit down and lie back, pulling her with me so she’s on top, her body against mine. I grip her ass to slow her grinding down. I don’t want to cum in my pants.
She sits up on top of me. Her long hair hangs down and tickles my face. Her lips are swollen and red from our kiss, making me want to kiss them more, or see them wrapped around my cock again.
Just the thought makes me even harder.
As if she can read my mind a naughty lit
tle grin appears on her face, and she moves her hips, allowing her access to undo my trousers and free my raging boner.
Smooth, delicate fingers wrap around it and grip tightly, sliding slowly up and down. Her tongue licks her lips.
Letting go of me she strips her clothing off, in a very un-ladylike, definitely drunk way, slinging herself off the end of the bed. Standing naked between my legs, she yanks and pulls until she has taken off my shoes and trousers.
It’s almost funny to watch her fumble, but it’s so fucking sexy. Clambering back on top of me, she pulls my shirt open and kisses her way up my chest, her hair brushing my sensitive skin as she goes. Her breasts hang down, so her nipples trace two lines behind her mouth.
I have balled the comforter in my fists while I struggle to let her have control, to show her I’m not the monster she believes me to be. If I thought I loved her before, I know it now without any doubt; the way my body craves her, responds to her.
Straddling me now, she slides my dick between her wet pussy lips, moving up and down, but not letting me in, just teasing me. Her eyes flutter, and her mouth opens in a soft moan while she pleasures herself against me.
I let go of the bedding and touch her breasts, softly, feeling the way her nipples harden as I rub them between my fingers. Leaning down she kisses me again, this time harder.
Moving so her head is in my neck, she says, “Rain.” I feel the words in her chest, where it’s up against mine. “Show me that you love me, that this isn’t a dream. That you want me.” Her words are shaking while she still moves slowly against me. “You said you wanted me, show me. Please.”
It’s the small sound of the please that undoes me. Lifting her hips slightly, I move so that I can enter her. But, I stop.
“Are you sure Ailee?”
She doesn’t answer, she simply pushes herself down onto me.
She is so wet that I slide all the way in with just that movement. We both stop, and she pushes up on her arms so she is looking me in the eyes. She smiles and then kisses me.
This time her body moves in time with her tongue in my mouth. Wrapping my arms around her body I roll us over, so that I am on top. And for the first time since we were married five years ago, I make love to my wife … and it’s exactly as I had always imagined.
Her back bends and she says my name. It comes out of her mouth like music while I feel her cumming. Her pussy grabs my dick so hard, and strangles it while the contractions of her orgasm seize her – that I gave her, making me cum.
When we both spiral down, I’m on top of her, our sweaty bodies intertwined, my semi-hard dick still inside her, and when I move so that I’m not crushing her I see the tears rolling down her face.
“I’m sorry,” I say, wiping them away. “I shouldn’t have…”
She shakes her head and puts her hand on my cheek.
“I didn’t expect it to feel …” She shakes her head again. “I’m sorry.” She kisses me softly, a peck, and rolls over, turning her back to me while closing her eyes.
I pull the extra blanket from the bottom of the bed over us, and put my arm around her, just holding her.
Because when she wakes up she might regret this, and hate me again.
Twenty-Three
Foil
AILEE
Sitting up in bed I wake with a fright, a pounding headache, and the feeling of regret aches between my thighs.
Flopping back onto the pillow I cover myself up and stare at the ceiling. I count the small down-lights over and over again, anything to avoid reality.
Looking over at him I note that I’ve stolen all the covers so he is lying naked and spread eagled on the bed. Like this, he’s peaceful, and I can almost understand why I let myself act like a whore last night. The combination of drinking and emotion had me spinning. He looks so good and smells like a man. A real man, not that boyish smell that Trent had, no Rain’s is musky and woodsy, and manly.
His beard makes him look softer, handsome almost. Rain was always handsome. When I first found out that we were going to get married I swooned over him, got butterflies and knots in my stomach – a teenage crush. Only he never seemed to reciprocate those damn butterflies. He just looked at me like I was a small child.
I was a small child. I see it now.
To him I was child, it seemed so wrong to him.
I remember wondering what was wrong with me, and why he didn’t want me anymore. I thought it was because I wasn’t a virgin. Or, because I cried when I saw all the blood.
I blamed myself. There had to be something wrong with me for him not to want me. I wasn’t old enough to be married, or have adult reactions to what was happening.
I just stare at him now. The things Viviana spoke about, the way she defended him, it’s almost believable when he’s sleeping.
“You are staring,” he says, his eyes still closed.
“I can’t sleep,” I answer, trying not to look at him, but failing.
“Neither can I with you staring at me.” He rolls over and props his head on his hand, looking at me like he wants to laugh. “I told you that you were drunk.” He widens his eyes. “Now you have regrets, and I’m willing to bet a thumping headache to go with them?”
“No regrets.” I lie, but I’m not even sure it is lie.
Being with him, felt good, it was so different to Trent. He doesn’t want it rough or hard, he didn’t use dirty words. When he touched me I felt it everywhere, like it seeped into me and stayed in my heart.
“You’re a shitty liar,” he says, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
“Do you have regrets?” I don’t know why I ask, or why I care so much. But, I do.
“About what? The fact that I finally made love to my wife?” He pauses. “No, I have no regrets. Do I regret the path we took to get there?” His gaze diverts away from mine. “Yes, I have regrets.”
“Me too.” Maybe I should have tried, gone to him when he didn’t come for me.
I don’t want to talk anymore, so I close my eyes, roll over, and pretend to go back to sleep.
* * *
Later, Rain is up, and there is breakfast and coffee waiting in the kitchen when I’m done having a shower and getting ready for work. I want to go, I need to.
I just need to feel normal for a few hours, to forget everything. I’m a little embarrassed about last night, because this morning I don’t want to like him, I want to hate him again.
The anger is still present, the hurt of losing Trent. Not just his death, but losing him in that time before he died hurts the most. It’s like something is missing. There is a hole and I can’t fill it.
It was full last night, just for a while.
“Morning.” He greets me with a smile and absolutely no sign of a hangover.
Next to my plate is a small plastic cup with two aspirin in it. Sitting down on the bar stool at the kitchen island I throw them down my gullet and wash them away with the warm coffee. It’s made just right, the way I make it for myself, and I savor the warmth.
My plate is filled with french toast and bacon, no vegan food in sight. The smell is heavenly.
“Morning,” I mumble, between life saving sips of coffee.
“Albert will take you to work and bring you home after. I’ll be working at the shipping yard today,” he says, leaning against the counter, drinking his coffee, slowly. “You can make us dinner, I’ll be home in time,” he adds, the look on his face testing me.
He knows I don’t cook. “Okay, but could you drop me off this morning? I’d rather go with you.”
* * *
When we arrive at the salon, Rain drives to the back lot and parks there.
“You don’t have to get out,” I say.
He smiles and softly squeezes my hand, like he wants to say more.
Taking brisk steps past the stinky dumpsters I find the back door open, and barge in on Chelsey lip-locked with some gray haired guy in an expensive suit – not out of the ordinary for her at all. She’s always on some cr
azy conquest or another, and sugar daddies seem to be the current flavor of the month.
I cough, and slam the security gate shut so they know I’m here. Chelsey straightens her top and tries to fix her hair. The man, still facing her, is doing the same thing, trying to gloss over his appearance. With a peck on the her cheek he moves past me and out the back door, without a word or even a glance.
How rude.
“Hey,” she says, blushing crimson.
“Hey, to you. Who is father time? Rather rude, isn’t he?” I point to the open door behind me. “You don’t normally bring your pet projects to work with you.”
“He had to drop me off. I left my car here last night.”
I raise a questionable brow at her, but know better than trying to make sense of anything she does.
“How are you? What happened? God, you just left yesterday. With that guy.”
Feeling defensive, I snap at her, “He’s my husband and I needed to go home.”
“Home?” she shrieks. “I went to your house, it is empty! You didn’t even tell me you were moving.”
She is angry, and her voice cracks with the threat of an emotional outburst.
“I didn’t know I was moving, okay!” I raise my voice. “Rain moved me…” I slow myself down before I say something I regret. “Look, Chelsey, we can’t talk about it today. I just need a normal day. I want to work, and pretend just for the hours I’m here that my whole life isn’t a train wreck happening in slow motion.”
“Fine LeeLee, just know that as your best friend I’m both pissed and seriously concerned. Apparently your husband isn’t exactly a model citizen.”
“I’m fine. I swear.” I’m not fine.
My first client, Georgie, is already seated with her hair washed when I get to my station. It’s hard not to notice all the looks I’m getting from my colleagues and friends.
I feel ashamed, like they are all judging me.
When I am finished setting her hair and see her out with a warm smile, there is a lull in the salon. It’s quiet and no one but Cleo has a client, and I don’t really give a shit about her anyway, so I pipe up.
Cut & Blow: Book 1 Page 19