by Robin Leaf
My single focus was to get here.
And now that I was here, I wondered if I should go try to find a hotel room so I could freshen up.
If I’m being honest, standing in front of Jase’s townhome felt a bit… intimidating. I worked out what I would say during the inordinate amount of time in the air, but I… I can’t really say I had second thoughts. No. I just kept playing the “what if” game.
What if he was away on business?
What if I had the wrong address or he moved?
What if he met someone?
What if he was out on a date?
What if he had… company?
What if I was too late?
What if he rejected me again?
Not once did I think of this shit while I was on any of the three different airplanes, but now, standing in front of his little wrought-iron gate, about to pee my pants, smelling like a grimy terminals and a vodka cranberry (spilled on me by my seat-mate who wanted to discuss every episode of Transcendental, her favorite show), I was not feeling too confident.
“You must be Miss Flurkey,” a sweet young voice from behind me said, interrupting my thoughts and plans to flee.
I turned to see a petite woman, probably in her fifties, her voice contradicting her age, with greying blonde hair and a kind smile, approaching, her arms filled with one too many reusable grocery bags. I rushed to help relieve her of the one giving her a hard time.
“Thank you, dear.” She reached to open the gate and motioned for me to follow. “Mr. Reed called and told me to expect you. I should probably call him to let him know you’ve arrived safely.” She pressed a code to open the door and turned to face me. “You’ve had everyone in a bit of a panic.”
I felt kindly reprimanded.
“I’m sorry. I took the scenic route.”
Her giggle lightened my heart.
“Yes, dear. I guess you did.”
I lifted my hand. “And my phone’s dead.”
“Ah,” she nodded as I followed her to the kitchen.
“And I really need to pee.”
She dropped her bags and showed me to the restroom. When I came out, she was disconnecting the call to Noah.
“Well, he knows you’re okay. And I apologize for not introducing myself. When we spoke on the phone before, I never got a chance to tell you my name.”
“We’ve spoken…” I then recognized her voice. She’s the one who answered Jase’s phone so late that night almost ten years before. I slapped my forehead. “Oh my goddess…”
She bustled around the kitchen, putting up all the items she had purchased from the market. “Yes, and you used some mighty colorful language back then.”
“I thought you…”
“I know right well what you thought. And I will concede that it did look bad, since Mr. Heywood explained that he never mentioned he had a caretaker to you.” She smiled kindly and wiped her hand on a cup towel on the counter before holding it out to me. “I’m Tillie.”
“Nice to meet you. Please, call me Darla.”
After several minutes of explaining my harrowing experience getting here, I asked. “Is Jase not home?”
She pursed her lips. “No, dear. He won’t be home for another hour or so. I was given strict instructions not to inform him of your impending arrival.”
Well, looky there, Noah has my back.
She looked me over. “Oh, my goodness, dear, I’m sure you would like a shower, especially if you are here to put this man out of his misery and profess your love.” She winked. “I’d like to think you would care to do it without that big stain on your blouse and sticky hair.”
“A shower would feel fantastic.”
“I have some things upstairs, and if you are hungry, I can fix you a snack.”
“No, I’m good. Thank you.”
After disappearing upstairs for a moment, she hurried down them carrying a shopping bag and led me past the staircase to a room that took up the entire back of the house. When she opened the door, it smelled achingly familiar… like home.
Like Jase.
I followed her through the darkened room to the bathroom off to the left of the suite.
“Mr. Reed asked me to supply you with a few toiletries and some clothes.” She handed me the bag. “He wasn’t sure if you came with any luggage and feared you may be ill-prepared. I had the devil of a time hiding these items from Mr. Heywood, and I hope they will suffice.”
“I’m sure it’s fine. Thank you, Tillie.”
“You’re welcome, dear.” She turned to leave and stopped. “Oh, I’m just so glad you’re finally here.”
I really wanted to snoop, but that would have to come later. A shower was the priority.
Even though the water pressure was a bit weak and it didn’t get as hot as I like, the shower felt so good, I didn’t want it to end. I was forced to quit, though, when the water turned too cool.
I dried off and dressed in the cute dress Tillie had provided. It was a little too big, but the scoop neck and flowy skirt were perfect. At that point, I wouldn’t have cared if it was a potato sack; as long as it was clean, I would have worn it.
I entered Jase’s dark bedroom and found a lamp. I turned it on, the light bright enough to illuminate the entire room. It didn’t look like his apartment in San Francisco at all. This one was decorated with frames and small knickknacks, I assumed from Tillie’s influence.
I was wrong.
The frames were filled with pictures. Most were of Jase doing things he never admitted to me that he did: standing at the top of the London Eye, a beautiful view of the Thames River behind him; standing on a track in a racing jumpsuit with a racecar helmet under his arm; sitting on the top of a mountain. In another frame, he had two pictures side by side of him in Paris, one outside the Moulin Rouge and the other at the top of the Eiffel Tower. More and more pictures commemorating fun things he’d done, and all seemed to be taken recently.
Then, there were the pictures of me as well, pictures he stole off the internet. One of me at the Golden Globes, where I wore that white Grecian dress with the rhinestone clasp in between my breasts. I loved that dress, and I’d never seen this picture of me. All the ones I’d seen had Riley standing next to me. Jase must have searched long to find this one. A few others I’d seen, but there were some that he obviously took without my knowledge, like the one of our last movie night where I was asleep on his dick, complete with drool.
He had some keepsakes from our time together, and they mirrored the ones I kept in my box: a menu, a matchbook, a figurine of Spongebob, a ceramic pineapple… He, too, kept a candle from the night in the hotel room. I picked it up to sniff it, and behind it was a small pile of lace. Curious, I lifted it… it was the underwear I wore that night. Sneaky.
I turned my attention to the bookshelves, running my fingers over the spines of unmarked books. I was intrigued to learn what he read, so I took one of them off the shelf and thumbed through it.
All the pages were handwritten… his handwriting. I stopped at an entry close to the beginning and read it.
May 28, 2003
Darla Maize Flurkey came on to me tonight. She wanted me. ME.
All the years I’ve noticed her… all the time I’ve circled around her, liking her. Loving the way she is so comfortable with herself.
And she wanted me.
God, I was tempted.
I would have risked everything for a taste of her. To know what it’s like to be with her. Inside her. FINALLY touching her. Making her mine.
God, just to kiss her…
But I can’t. I couldn’t do that to her. I can’t risk my health for one night of pleasure.
I told her the truth, more or less, of why I walked away from her. I really can’t suck her into my life, my drama. She can’t know.
She’s the only one who treats me like a person, not a freak show.
She’s the only one who doesn’t act like I’m made of glass.
If she knew, she would
look at me differently. When I’m with her, I feel… normal.
I want her in my life, always. I always want to feel normal.
Being with her tonight… talking to her, watching her smile at me, holding her, makes me something I have never been… happy.
Um… What?
I skimmed page after page, looking for clues as to what he was talking about in this first entry. I just found entry after entry about me, mostly his thoughts after our dates. I slowed down, looking through the words, reading a timeline of how he fell in love with me and was so pained about how he couldn’t tell me.
But he never came out and truly admitted why.
It was so heartbreaking to read.
I caught my tear before it landed on the page and ruined his beautiful words. Shutting the journal, I placed it back on the shelf, counting seven more books with similar bindings. As I reached for the next one, I heard the front door open.
My heart pinged in my chest as I furiously wiped my eyes and willed myself to stop crying.
I heard voices, Tillie’s and Jase’s. He was home.
Showtime.
Forty Five
“Feels Like the First Time” - Foreigner
I waited, frozen to the spot in the corner of the room where he would likely see me right when he entered. He didn’t immediately run in here, so I assumed Tillie wanted to keep me a surprise. I found myself holding my breath, listening for words or footsteps, but hearing only murmurs, tone and inflection changes.
I gathered that she was feeding him, but I sensed urgency in her voice. Something about going to take a shower. I heard their voices grow closer, and a tiny shot of nerves hit me, forming a knot in my stomach.
“Now, I will be at my quilting circle, and I’m just going to spend the night with my sister, Tara. It just makes it easier than driving home at night. I won’t be back until late tomorrow afternoon, so I’ll see you then, Mr. Heywood.”
“Have fun, Tillie, and for the love of all things holy, please stop calling me Mr. Heywood.”
I let out a noise from my mouth, then covered it, hoping I didn’t just alert him that an intruder was here.
I heard his footsteps, and the knot grew. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly and heard him touch the doorknob.
Holy fucking shit, it’s about to go down.
The door swung open, and Jase entered. He was dressed in sweats and a white t-shirt stretched beautifully across his chest, a gym bag over his shoulder. Distracted by something on his phone, he had yet to see me. He turned to set his gym down bag and froze. Slowly (seriously, the tectonic plates moved faster than he turned) he faced me, eyes closed. Once they opened, he dropped his bag.
“Hi,” I said, waving.
He didn’t move; he just open-mouth stared.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m here.”
Nothing.
I shifted nervously.
“So in the past thirty six hours, I lost my job and I walked in on Allison having sex with Bryan, so if you’re going to kick me out, it would actually be a perfect trifecta of shitty circumstances.” I smiled, but his expression didn’t change; he kept staring. “Before you say anything, know that my eleven hour trip took ten hours longer than it should have. A chick spilled a drink on me and wanted to talk about my first series for seven of those hours. I haven’t slept. I’m running on crappy airplane food and adrenalin. So I’d really like for you to say something one way or another because I don’t think the adrenalin will last much longer.”
In three strides, he stood in front of me and cupped my cheeks. “Are you really here?”
I grabbed his wrists and held his hands to my face. “Yes… if the offer still…”
He cut me off by attacking my mouth and backing me into the wall. His hands lifted mine to above my head, silently urging them to stay there, before his roamed everywhere… my shoulders, my breasts, my stomach, my ass, like he didn’t know what to touch or to feel. Ten years of pent up sexual energy released in that one kiss… ten years of anticipated joy and past heartache were celebrated right there against the wall of his bedroom.
His hands floated down my thighs, grabbing and bunching my skirt, only breaking the connection between us to pull my dress over my head quickly before diving back in. Both of his hands worked their way between us, one pulling my underwear to the side, the other releasing his cock. He grabbed the back of my knee, lifting my leg, and before I could agree or protest, he found my opening and entered me.
I broke the kiss to gasp at the welcome intrusion, mostly to replace the oxygen he was stealing from me. He sunk in deeper with each slow thrust, desperate to get as deep as possible.
“This… this is where I belong, Darla.” He hooked my leg over his forearm, and his hand moved slowly up my thigh while his eyes locked on to mine. “Where I’ve always belonged.”
I cupped his cheeks and brought his mouth back to mine. We kissed languidly as the movements of his hips matched the rhythm of our mouths. He thrust slowly, deeply, rotating his hips when he was at his deepest, hitting all my good spots. His free arm wrapped around my lower back so that he could pull me closer to him with each thrust.
“Darla, I can’t…” he started to move faster, more desperately. “I’m gonna…”
Both his arms made it around my hips, pulling me to him as he rutted, grunting twice more before he let out a strangled cry. I felt him pulsing, releasing the warmth inside me, marking me as his. I came around him, squeezing him for all he was worth. He kept thrusting, helping me through my orgasm. When it subsided, he collapsed against me catching his breath. He gently lead me to the floor, pulling me on top of him, laying my head over his heart cupping it to his chest. He somehow stayed inside me, still hard enough to fill me.
I squeezed his cock with my inner walls, causing him to moan, before I attempted to lift off him.
His arms tightened around me. “No, please don’t leave me yet.”
I lifted my head, placing my chin on his chest, so I could see his face. His look of reverence astounded me.
“It took me all these years to get inside you. I want to stay as long as possible.”
I felt my face flush. “You know, we can and will do that again. You don’t have to take up permanent residence. It’ll make it hard to go to work with me attached to your cock.” I ran my hand across his chest. “We might draw some unwelcome stares.”
Smiling, he ran his fingertips down the side of my face. “You’re really here.”
I nodded once. “I am.” I kissed his chest through his t-shirt and stood, despite his hands trying to keep me where I was. “And you need a shower, I need a nap, and then we need to do that again.” I held out a hand to him to help him up. “I’m thinking maybe three more times tonight.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Just three?”
I grabbed his shirt and lifted it over his head. “Hey, if you think you’ll be up for more, we can try.”
He watched me run my hands over his chest and abdomen, closing his eyes at my touch. When my hands felt tiny scars, he sobered and reached around me to unsuccessfully remove my bra.
“Wow, I guess that’s really not easy to do.”
“Not if you don’t understand how it works. You can’t just pull it open. Have you never removed a bra before?”
He turned red. “Not in a very long time.”
My lips twisted to the side and I turned around. “Here, try again.” I really wanted to ask, but I decided to leave it alone for now. I felt the bra release, and he spun me around and slowly slipped the straps down my arms, very interested in watching it fall. His face was enraptured by my naked breasts.
“My God, Darla.” There was that prayer/curse combo he used when saying my name.
I worked my underwear down my legs, getting my own view of his semi-erect, absolutely beautiful cock.
“In the shower, you can touch them, not just stare at them with an open mouth.” I pulled his pants the rest of the way down his legs. “I might eve
n let you put that mouth on them.” I kissed the tip of his cock.
With that, his semi became a full hard on, which I grabbed and used to lead him into the bathroom.
I turned on the shower while he stared at me, letting me take the lead. Stepping under the water, I motioned for him to join me.
“I don’t know how long your hot water will hold out. I used a lot of it earlier.”
He grabbed me around my waist and pulled me into his chest. “I don’t care how long it lasts.” His lips caressed mine. “You’re here.”
“C’mon,” I gently removed his arms. “Let me get you clean.”
I grabbed his body wash and dumped some into my hand. I slowly rubbed it into his chest, shoulders, and arms, working my way around his back, ass (man, it was a great ass), and his legs. He stood there, watching me reverently, while I grabbed the removable shower head, concentrated on getting him rinsed clean.
“You missed a spot,” he said, with a naughty twinkle in his eye. “It’s quite dirty, too.”
I smiled at my plan. I grabbed the bottle of soap again, rubbing some between my breasts. I squatted and lifted them so that his cock was enveloped by them and moved his cock in and out. He went weak in the knees and lifted one hand to the shower wall for balance. His other hand cupped my cheek.
“I love you,” he professed on a whisper.
The emotion laced in that profession made me pause, but I resumed, moving slowly up and down. Once I felt he was clean, I stood, grabbed the shower head, and rinsed his cock. I made sure he was watching while I moved the shower head between my legs, opening them wide so he got a good view. I rinsed my pussy, rubbing my finger through several times from opening to clit, cleaning off all the remnants of earlier.
“I want your mouth right here later, so I want it to be clean.”
His eyes flared as he continued to watch me. It felt so good, I upped the show, switching to pinching my clit, rubbing it between my fingers, which caused him to lick his lips.
“Do not come, Darla,” he commanded, still watching. The voice he used took me back to that night so long ago. I closed my eyes and moaned.