Maybe Baby Lite

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Hey Ray,” I said smiling.

  “Hey, Ty. You doing all right?”

  I nodded.

  Trey walked over to Ray. “Did you take care of what I asked you to?”

  “Sure thing,” Ray answered. “Here you go,” he said, handing something to Trey. “I’ll keep my key on my personal key ring. No one else will have access to it—as you requested.”

  “Thanks Ray.”

  Ray turned back to me. “Mrs. Johnson is expecting you tomorrow morning at 9, Ty, at the main office. I think she has a special assignment for you. Hopefully, you won’t be too bored.”

  “Got it,” I said. “I’ll be there, don’t worry, Ray.”

  We exchanged smiles and Ray took off to his truck.

  “You’ll like Rebecca,” Trey commented. “She and Ray are probably my two most trusted employees. I know my parents feel the same way.”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “Rebecca—Mrs. Johnson,” Trey clarified. “If I know her, you won’t be calling her ‘Mrs. Johnson’ for long. She doesn’t go in for a lot of formality and pretense. That’s why I know you'll like her.” He gave me another one of his award-winning grins, and placed his right arm around my shoulders.

  “C’mon you,” he said, softly, “Let me walk you to your cottage. I want to make sure everything is secure and that you get settled in for the night.”

  “It’s not even dark yet, Trey,” I protested. “I’m not ready to call the day over.”

  “I don’t want to either, Tylar,” he said gently, “but I’ve got work to do this evening reviewing the case before the trial starts on Tuesday. Then I have to pack, shower, and all that good stuff. Plus,” he continued, squeezing me closer as we made our way up the path to the cottages, “I want a few minutes alone with you before I go. I want to make sure I give you a proper goodbye.”

  My stomach butterflies were swarming. My cheeks were warm and flushed. We arrived at the cottage and Trey fished in his pocket pulling out the two keys that Ray had given him. He handed one of the keys to me. “Put this on your key chain,” he instructed, “and pitch the old one.”

  I nodded. “What about the extra key?” I asked, nodding toward the one in his hand.

  He grinned at me. “I thought you might feel safer if I held onto it, just in case.”

  “In case what?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

  “In case you lose yours or something,” he frowned at me, feigning insult that I could think anything other than honorable thoughts about him. He was a complicated man, I thought. It didn't bother me a bit him having a key. He owned the place. As far as I was concerned, Trey had a right to anything here, with the exception of any other woman apart from me. I looped my arms around his neck and stood on my tiptoes, kissing his mouth.

  “Oh no—you can and will do better than that, Ms. Preston,” he laughed, chasing me up the couple of steps onto the porch. I struggled from his grasp, playfully, and then saw that a small shopping bag had been hung on my doorknob.

  “Hmm, looks like someone left me a gift,” I teased. “Is that why you wanted to escort me to my cottage Mr. Sinclair?” I asked coquettishly. “You do spoil me, don’t you?”

  Trey’s facial expression had lost the amusement of just a moment ago.

  “That’s not from me Tylar,” he said, his tone serious.

  I tried to lighten the mood; I wasn't into getting creeped out again after having spent such a wonderful, calm day with my man. “I’m sure it’s probably just some tacky Fred-X of Follywood underwear from Jenna.”

  I opened the screen door, and lifted the shopping bag off of the doorknob. I held the bag open and saw a small pile of plum silk material. I unfolded the articles of clothing, holding them up. Suddenly I recognized them. The realization hit me hard. Oh my God. I remembered them from my dream. It was the silk pajama shorts that were ripped off of my 13-year-old body; the matching camisole was in the bag too. It had been cut in half. That part wasn't in my dream. There was a typed note on a piece of paper pinned to the camisole. It read:

  I believe these belong to you, Sissy.

  “Oh my God!” I screamed hysterically, flinging the bad down. Trey’s arms were around me in an instant. The hysterical voice that was yelling “don’t touch me, let me go” couldn’t possibly be mine could it? I felt strong arms around me, lifting me, trying to calm me. Suddenly, Clint came running up on the porch. Did Clint think that I needed help? Trey’s voice was in my ear.

  “Stop fighting me Tylar, for Christ’s sake, it’s me. It’s Trey!” He handed Clint my key. “Open the door so I can get her inside,” Trey instructed.

  Clint made no move to do it. He was sizing up the situation.

  “Clint for Christ’s sake, it’s not me she’s afraid of. Open the fucking door before we have the whole compound down on us!”

  Clint cautiously complied. In seconds Trey carried me inside and placed me gently on my couch. Clint carried in my purse and the shopping bag. Trey snatched the silk pajamas and shoved them back into the bag so that they were out of my sight. Clint brought me a glass of water from the kitchenette. I accepted it, taking a sip, then another. Some calmness was starting to seep in. The swirling and shrieking had subsided. Trey sat next to me, looking at me, clutching my free hand as if he expected me to shatter into a million pieces at any moment.

  “Can Clint go ahead and leave sweetie?” he asked me gently. I was confused. “Clint thinks you were screaming because of me,” Trey explained. “He wants to make sure that you aren’t afraid of me, that I wasn’t what made you start screaming just now.”

  I understood now. Clint was going to protect me against Trey if necessary. He was a friend to me. I saw that now.

  “Oh yes,” I said, “I’m sorry, Trey, Clint. I’m sorry for that out there.” They were both staring at me now. “Clint, thank you for coming to my rescue.” I smiled at him weakly. “I received a shock, but Trey’s not responsible. I’m okay, really.”

  “Are you sure?” Clint asked quietly, moving in front of Trey, blocking his view of me for the moment while I answered him. He apparently wanted to make absolutely sure that I wasn't being forced to say this to him. I knew that this was really pissing Trey off. I heard Trey’s heavy sigh, as he mumbled, “Oh for Christ’s sake,” from behind Clint.

  “No Clint, really, I’m fine. Talk to you tomorrow?”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “I’m right next door, Ty. You just holler if you need me,” he assured me as he moved away.

  As soon as Clint left, Trey closed the door abruptly behind him mumbling something inaudible. He returned to the couch, pulling me into his lap and cradling me against his strong chest. I rested my head against his chest; the sound of his heartbeat made me feel safe and secure.

  As my pulse returned to normal, I leaned over pulling off my paddock boots and socks so that my feet were bare. I curled back up into Trey’s lap, sitting sideways in it. I pulled my bare feet up to rest flatly on his muscular left thigh. I liked the way his fawn riding pants felt underneath my toes. His right hand rubbed my back gently, reassuringly, and then moved up to my neck, rubbing and caressing me there. He cupped his fingers underneath my chin, tilting my face up so that I was looking into the depths of his sapphire eyes that were burning with something right now; I wasn't sure what until he lowered his mouth to mine.

  I closed my eyes and felt his warm, sensual lips on my mouth. They moved slowly, caressingly over my lips; his hands now framed my face on each side. His tongue softly slid over my lips, parting them gently and expertly, and I could feel my heart quicken. Our tongues met in a sensual, playful exploration, and we found a perfect rhythm. I turned to jelly, placing my hands up on his face, wanting to feel every inch of it while my eyes were closed. The silk pajamas and note were momentarily forgotten as I drank in the sensual taste, feel and pleasure of Trey. He moaned softly, bringing our kiss to closure by placing soft kisses on my lips, my face, and bringing my hands up to his lips, kissing each one tenderl
y.

  I opened my eyes, enjoying the calming effect of our first kiss. His eyes were a deeper blue than before. He was watching me; what was he looking for?

  “Hmmm,” he breathed against me, “do you know how much I've wanted to do that since the very first time I laid eyes on you?”

  I was dumbfounded. I shook my head. He lifted an errant lock away from my face, and then brushed his thumb lightly against my lips, still moist from our luxurious kiss.

  He pulled me in, and kissed my brow. My head rested against his chest again, listening to his steady heartbeat. His hand traveled up to my ponytail, twirling it around his fingers absently.

  “Are we going to talk about it Tylar?” he asked softly.

  “I don’t want to Trey,” I replied quietly. “But I will.”

  CHAPTER 14

  “Go ahead,” Trey urged gently, “please tell me what these clothes mean to you.”

  “Okay,” I began, shakily. “The other night, when you were in Atlanta, I'd been cleaning this cottage like crazy. It brought back some memories. Memories of when I was growing up in Radcliff—Radcliff, Kentucky, where I’m from?”

  He nodded for me to continue.

  “In our house, Saturday was special to my mom because that was the only night out of the whole week that she had her date. By that, I mean a date with her boyfriend.”

  “And what was his name?” Trey asked.

  “Well,” I answered, “I’m not really sure.”

  Trey looked confused.

  “It seems like maybe there were a few of them.” I paused, gathering my thoughts. “So anyway, my best friend was Laurie and her mom was Mona, my mom’s friend. On Friday nights, Laurie would spend the night with me, and then on Saturday nights, I'd spend the night at Laurie’s.”

  “Okay,” Trey commented, “so how does this tie into the purple pajamas?”

  “I’m getting to that. The dream involved a particular weekend at Laurie's house when we were both 13. Laurie had made up a story so that we could stay out later that night."

  He nodded for me to continue.

  “When we got to the video parlor Laurie told me that we were all going out in a car with some older boys and I refused. Laurie got pissed and they left without me. I walked home and let myself in. Mom and her boyfriend were upstairs. When I got ready for bed I put those plum silk pajamas on.”

  Trey glanced at the shopping bag while I continued.

  “My mom heard me in the bathroom and was pissed that I was home on her date night. I heard her boyfriend ask who I was and she told him I was her younger sister. That’s pretty much it. I went to bed.”

  “Tylar,” Trey said in a very serious tone, “that can’t be it. That doesn’t explain the ripped pajamas. That doesn’t explain the note about Sissy.” He rubbed my back, comfortingly, consolingly.

  “In the dream I had, it got into more detail. But I’m not sure that part really happened.”

  “What part?” he asked. “Tylar you must tell me everything, sweetie. We'll sort it out together, remember?”

  I swallowed nervously, afraid that I might be sick. I snuggled closer to him, as if that would help my memory be less despicable.

  “After I went to my room that night, I couldn’t sleep so I put my headphones on and listened to music. Later I woke up when I felt Mom's boyfriend on top of me, touching me. He was calling me “Sissy,” and telling me the things he liked doing to my “older sister.” He smelled bad, like whiskey and garbage. He looked at me under my clothes and ripped my pajama shorts right off of me.” My voice started cracking. I was so ashamed. Trey held me tight and kissed my forehead.

  “Tell me what he did to you, Tylar.” The tone of his voice frightened me.

  He'll never touch me again once he knows…

  “Don’t you see, Trey? I’m not sure.”

  “Tell me what he did to you in your dream.”

  “In my dream he put his fingers in and around my private parts. He told me that I had a clit that was working perfectly fine. He put his mouth and tongue down there and asked if I liked it.”

  I could feel Trey’s body turn to stone underneath me.

  I disgust him.

  “Go on,” he said.

  I told him the rest ending with me kicking him in the crotch and screaming for my mother.

  "Didn't your mother help you?" he asked tersely.

  “I thought she would when she finally heard me screaming and came into my room. All she told him was that I wasn't part of the deal and he owed her another hundred for touching me. Those are the pajamas I was wearing," I finished, nodding towards them.

  Trey held me close. I needed to get out of his grasp. I was nauseated. I didn’t want to be sick in front of him.

  “Please Trey, let me go. I feel sick," I said as I clasped my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom slamming the door behind me... I didn’t want him to hear me retching.

  He knocked softly on the bedroom door moments later, bringing me a glass of ice water.

  “Drink this,” he commanded. I drained the glass, handing it back to him. I lay on the bed numb, scared, and confused. Who'd kept my ripped pajamas all of these years and then used them to terrorize me? Was it the same person that left the jewelry inside of my cottage? Why?

  Trey hurried around my bedroom, collecting clothing from my dresser drawers and closet, putting them in a pile on my bed, searching for a suitcase. He found the one under my bed and packed what he'd gathered inside. He was in the bathroom, gathering up my toothbrush, razor, and the rest of my toiletries. He found my phone charger and purse, shoving it all into my suitcase.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “You're not staying here Tylar,” he stated. “And it's not up for debate.” He did not have to worry about me arguing that point. There was no way I'd stay in this cottage one more minute. “You're staying at the house tonight with me.”

  I noticed the pile of mail still on the counter. He grabbed it, shoving it into the zippered flap on the outside of my suitcase.

  “I think we’re ready,” he said, guiding me to the front door.

  It was dark now, which provided a cloak of privacy. Trey held my hand, leading me up the path that led to his home. The mansion stood in peaceful and safe serenity. There were a few lights on inside. He led me around to the front door, reaching into his pocket for his key. The door was opened before he needed his key. A tall, slender man who looked to be in his 60s greeted us. He wore a uniform.

  “Good evening Thatcher,” Trey greeted him, pulling me behind him into a large entry hall. “This is Ms. Preston. She is my houseguest this week. Please see to her every comfort.”

  Trey set my suitcase down in the entry hall.

  “Of course, sir,” Thatcher responded. “Where would you have me take Ms. Preston’s things?”

  “To my suite,” Trey directed without hesitation.

  Thatcher didn’t bat an eye, as he lifted my suitcase and ascended the wide staircase just off of the entrance hall to deposit my things in Trey’s suite.

  “Trey,” I said, “I’m not sure about this.”

  “About what?” he asked, looking surprised.

  “About staying here, without you being here. It’s going to make me feel really weird,” I said quietly.

  “I see no reason why it should,” he replied nonchalantly. “You heard me ask Thatcher to see to your every comfort. He'll inform the rest of the staff to do the same.”

  “I know,” I replied, “but what about when I’m off work? I mean, its sort’ve like I’ve been separated from the group.”

  “You're not seriously thinking about going to work tomorrow are you?” he asked, incredulously.

  “Well, yeah,” I answered. “Why wouldn’t I?”

  “Tylar, you're not to leave the manor, do you understand?”

  “Whoa Trey, I don’t understand.”

  “I’ve already explained to you how I feel about you. If the first message you received with the jew
elry left under your bed covers wasn’t clear enough, this latest one certainly was. No— I’m afraid I cannot allow you to put yourself at risk until we find out who's behind this.”

  “Trey, I appreciate your concern for me and I no more want to stay in that cottage by myself then you do, but we have to draw the line somewhere. I still need to work. I could go behind your back and go in anyway tomorrow, you know that. So let’s please find a way to make it happen, okay? I want to work tomorrow.”

  I saw a flicker of amusement cross his handsome features.

  “Tell you what,” he offered, “why don’t I take you upstairs to my suite, and let you draw yourself a nice relaxing bubble bath? How does that sound?”

  “I’d really like that,” I answered.

  “Good, and while you're doing that, I'll make a couple of phone calls, and get myself packed for tomorrow’s trip. Then we’ll meet up and discuss tomorrow, sound fair?”

  “Absolutely,” I agreed, flashing him a smile.

  Trey led me upstairs through his suite of rooms to the large bathroom. There was a double marble shower at one end. In the center was a sunken bathtub with jets. The double vanity was against the adjacent wall next to the commode. The bathroom was ceramic tile throughout, with brass fixtures, ceiling fans, and one wall was completely mirrored. Trey gathered some clean towels and washcloths for me.

  “Tylar, your suitcase is on the bed. You can unpack the rest of your things after your bath. I shouldn’t be more than an hour.”

  I nodded and smiled. I filled the sunken tub with vanilla bath oil. It felt so relaxing. After I finished my bath I wrapped one of the large bath towels around me and returned to the bedroom. Trey wasn't back yet so I found a short silk nightgown to wear to bed. I brushed my teeth, placing my toothbrush in the holder next to Trey’s. I was so tired and Trey's king-sized bed was so inviting. I crawled beneath the sheets feeling safe and secure for once.

  I woke up to a dark room and was momentarily alarmed until I remembered where I was. I heard the shower going in the bathroom. The clock on Trey’s nightstand read 11:33. Trey and I still needed to have our talk. The shower stopped; I could hear him moving around in the bathroom, closing drawers and brushing his teeth. The bathroom door opened and he flipped the light off as he came into the bedroom. He was wearing only a pair of silk boxers. His stomach was flat and taut. He climbed into bed next to me and leaned over to set his alarm. I moved over to him and kissed him.