SANCTUARY: Beards & Bondage

by Rebekah Weatherspoon

  DEAR, MR. DORRIT,

  SORRY THINGS DIDN’T WORK OUT AS YOU INTENDED.

  WHAT IS IT I CAN DO FOR YOU?

  Silas catches me at a real bad time. I’m pretty amped up. I open our group chat just in time to see that Brooklyn’s messaged the girls and told them we’re starting a brown girls vigilante group to protect ourselves against overinflated white men in positions of power—then she goes into court. After I explain what exactly she’s talking about, Noa, Claudia and Rayna declare that they absolutely have my back. I know I was trying to protect them from what Dorrit might have thrown at me next, but I forgot that in addition to Scott, I have a whole crew of bad bitches who would do anything for me. That simple fact makes me want to go home even more now, but I want to see if Dorrit responds.

  By the time Silas comes rolling through the front door, shouting about how he’s brought me food, I’m ankle deep in work emails, trying undo some more crap that Murrell has thrown at me. When Silas comes into the kitchen, I’m so pissed I don’t even look up from my computer.

  He leans down and kisses my forehead. “Brought you a burger and side salad and some fries, just in case you want both.”

  “Thank you,” I grumble. He grabs what turns out to be a Coke from the fridge, then sits down beside me at the table.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  I carefully close my laptop and look at him. “Well, the P.I. who was looking into David Dorrit for me blew his cover and threw me under the bus so Dorrit might try to extra kill me now. Also, the partner I am growing to hate the absolute most decided that since I had to step away from the office due to minor things like my personal safety, he should tell the client that he wasn’t sure I was handling things properly. Because telling someone that your own associates don’t know how to do their jobs is somehow good business.”

  “Not that I can help, but is there anything I can do?”

  “No. And there’s nothing I even need to do. I have everything under control. I already told them I’d be back on Monday. Murrell’s just being a controlling prick.”

  “I got you a ripe peach,” he says as he hands me a peach the size of a softball. “Just rinse it.” I examine the giant piece of fruit before I look up into his dark eyes. I lean over and kiss him on the lips. He looks dry, but I can taste a hint of sweat. It’s lunchtime and he’s already put in a long day.

  “Thank you,” I say and then I remember. “Scott said you have a horse?”

  “Sanny? She died three years ago.”

  “Uh…”

  “You talked to him?” he asks. I can’t really read his tone.

  “Not about us. I was too pissed about the Tillery thing and he was rushing to work.”

  “Okay. Well enough about Scott. I know you're busy, but I’d like to ask your permission to pull gender rank tonight.”

  “You wanna what?” I laugh.

  “I want to take you on a typical date that does nothing to challenge gender norms and then seduce you without so many rules or training tips or whatever you like to call them.”

  “First of all, you taking me on a date fits in just fine for the type of gender equality I’m looking for. You’re saying you wanna take me on a date and you don't want me to dominate you afterward? But what if the date is so bad I don't want to have sex with you at all after?” I tease.

  He stares blankly at me and after a few moments I realize I might have broken his brain. I stand and take a seat in his lap. His hands cautiously go to my waist.

  “See, that's patriarchal. You just think because you wine and dine me, I'm gonna want to give it up to you after.”

  “I want to have sex with you all the time. I hadn’t thought about any heavy meaning behind it.”

  “I'm just fucking with you. This was good. You told me what you wanted. And I’m considering. Hmmmm…” I tap my chin and pretend I’m considering his proposal like I hadn’t already decided I was going to let him beat the breaks off this pussy the second he handed me that peach.

  “Okay. I would love to go on a date with you. I'll need a break from this bullshit anyway. And yes, afterward, I am giving you the reins. Show me what kind of sexual god you can be.”

  “Great.” He starts to stand and moves me off his lap. “Be ready at seven. Wear your rain boots. The ground’s still wet where we’re going.” He kisses me quickly, then backs out the door.

  I catch the door and call after him.“Where we going?”

  “I can’t tell you. It’s a surprise. Let me surprise you,” he yells over his shoulder. I watch him as he almost trips over Morty, who’s decided to tag along with him back up to the farm. In another life, I’d totally marry Silas McInroy.

  Fifteen

  That short lunchtime visit with Silas helps snaps me out of some of my rage and I finally feel like I can focus on my actual job. I close my laptop at six and start to get ready for this mysterious date that he has planned. Silas comes running into the house at six forty-five. He almost knocks me over as he barrels into the bedroom where I'm stepping into my underwear.

  “Sorry! My bad!” He catches me and moves me out of the way, all in one swift movement. “We’re still on for seven, but I have to shower.”

  I don’t realize that I’ve been deposited on the bed with my underwear around one ankle until the bathroom door slams behind him. I look around and meet eyes with Honeycrisp perched in her chair of choice. She has no idea what just happened either. I figure it’s best to keep getting ready. I’m almost done putting on my makeup when I hear the bathroom door pop open. I look over and laugh. All I see is Silas’s beet-red, soaking wet face peeking out through the crack in the door.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Yeah?” I can’t stop laughing.

  He says something so fast all I catch is “TV room.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry, it won’t feel like a real date if we’re watching each other get ready. Can you go wait in the television room or the kitchen?”

  “Can you give me like five minutes to finish getting ready and then I’ll go?”

  “Yeah,” he says like he should have thought about that in the first place. I shake my head and turn back to the mirror. When I finish getting ready, maybe ten minutes later, I knock on the bathroom door. I smile when Silas immediately sticks his face out again. It’s mostly dry but his hair is still dripping.

  “Did you bring a towel in there with you?” I ask.

  “No.”

  I roll my eyes and gesture toward the bed. “Room’s all yours.”

  “Thanks, get out.”

  I decide not to mush him in the face and head out to the television room. Honeycrisp and Joe Namath join me. I turn on the news and watch the best NY1 has to offer. I check my phone, but the girls are blowing up the chat and I don’t feel like reading all three hundred messages I’ve missed. I also don’t trust myself to not gush about Silas. I like him. I can’t deny it anymore. He’s sweet and real easy on the eyes. I know if I bring him up to the girls, not only will they want to meet him, they’ll want to know everything about him, especially with the whole Scott connection. And that’ll mean admitting I have some clue what I’m doing with Silas, and I don’t. For now, for these few hours before work and ultimately my whole life pull us apart, I’m going to keep him, selfishly, to myself.

  I check my email instead. My heart thumps as I wait for my phone to finish checking for mail.

  A dozen or so new messages pop up, with no answer from Dorrit. Just the thought of him brings that tightness back to my chest, but there’s a different kind of heat behind that feeling. Before, I was scared. Now I’m pissed. I toss my phone on the couch and switch to the Food Channel. I’m full up on death and injustice for the night.

  I’m ten minutes into a tart preparation when I hear Silas’s heavy steps coming down the hall. I smile the second I see him. He’s wearing what looks like brand new dark wash jeans, and a blue and green gingham dress shirt. He’s still wearing those big, shitkicking work
boots that I’ve seen around the bedroom, but he’s combed his beard and made an attempt to tame his thick curls.

  “I don’t know how a man your size can look cute, but you look really cute right now.”

  “Thank you. I’ll take cute. You forgot these.” He holds up my rainboots, then steps into the room and hands them to me.

  “Right, thanks. Where are we going?” I ask as I slip off my heels and step into the rubber rainboots.

  “It’s a surprise. I should blindfold you.”

  “No.” I shake my head a little and let out a quiet chuckle. “We have not at all worked our way up to you blindfolding me.”

  “But you’d blindfold me, wouldn’t you?” he asks as he reaches for my hand. I turn the TV off then lace my fingers with his.

  “I’ve considered it, but you have very expressive eyes. It would be a shame to cover them up while we’re playing.”

  “We’ve fuck—we’ve had sex a few times. Would you call that playing?”

  “I mean, we have fun don’t we?” I tease as he leads me down the hall to the front door. Honeycrisp follows us as far as the bottom steps, but Silas shoos her back.

  “Yeah we have a blast.—Not this time. No dogs allowed. Sit.” She looks confused and displeased when she cocks her head at him, but she sits down and doesn’t follow us to the truck.

  “Why can’t she come?—I can’t believe I just said that.” I step back as he holds the passenger door open for me.

  “Because you secretly love dogs. You don’t have to be ashamed.” I find myself hiding another smile, shaking my head. I get in the truck and wait for him to join me.

  “Not ashamed at all. But you didn’t answer my question. You don’t think we have fun?”

  “I can’t really think of it that way,” he says.

  “But you enjoy it?” I ask. I still can’t read him completely. I don’t know if he’s being sarcastic or just talking the way he talks.

  He looks at me. “Yes. A lot. Sorry, fun isn’t a word I use in relationship to sex.”

  I get it now. He’s totally down for the sex, he just takes it seriously. I can get on board with that. We pull away from the house and after a few minutes, I realize we are driving deeper into the farm, in a direction we haven’t gone before.

  “Where are we going?” I ask again.

  “The East orchard.”

  “Ah, I see. I didn't wear yoga pants.”

  “It’s fine. You wore a dress. That's even better.”

  “You really like what's up my skirt, don't you?”

  “Yes.”

  I lean over and kiss his face as he steers us between rows and rows of apple trees. “I’ll let you up my skirt soon enough. It’s a promise.”

  “I can’t wait,” he says and I know he’s serious.

  Finally I see our destination off in the distance. I start to see what he’s been planning all day. I don’t believe it at first. Even when I get out of the truck and see Ginny standing in a small clearing between the rows, I’m speechless. There’s a large plaid blanket down, a picnic basket, an ice bucket with two bottles of champagne packed inside, and around this whole set up, in almost a full circle, are over a dozen pristine, overturned metal buckets, topped with large glass jarred candles. The sun is still up, but the candles cast this magical glow.

  “Silas,” I gasp.

  “You seemed really stressed out so I thought we could have a nice dinner outside of the house.” I turn and I look at him. I cannot remember the last time I shed tears of joy, but I’m real close. I’m speechless. “Come on.”

  He gets out of the driver’s seat and I follow, climbing out of the truck before he can jog around and open my door for me. He’s right. The ground is still pretty wet. There are small puddles filling the dips in the narrow road as we pick out way over to the gorgeous spread.

  “This was all him,” Ginny says. “I'm just here to make sure none of the trees caught on fire before you got here.” I realizes she’s standing next to a red fire bucket filled with water. Wet ground or not, you can never be too cautious.

  “Smart.”

  “I’ll leave you to it.” Ginny waves and starts walking back through the trees.

  “Wait, you’re walking?” I ask.

  “Girl, it’s not that far. He just drove you out here to be nice,” she laughs, then keeps on her way back to the main property.

  “If you’d be so kind, please take off your boots,” Silas says once we’re alone. I look down at the plaid blanket.

  “Oh right. Give me a hand, please.” He holds out his arm and I grip his hand while I toe out of my boots and step onto the blanket. It’s shockingly thick and padded.

  “What’s under this?”

  “A tarp, two sleeping bags and another shitty blanket,” Silas says as he leans down to untie his own boots. He’s wearing brand new white socks. I can’t handle it. “The ground is wet. And hard. Figured this would make things a little more comfortable.”

  “Okay you're cute and sweet.” I hold out my hand to him and we both sit down in the middle of the blanket. I wait patiently as Silas opens the picnic basket.

  “I ordered the family catering sampler from Andeloni’s.”

  “You did?” I say, my shocked laughter coming out with a snort.

  “I thought you could try a little bit of everything and see what you like. I got sparkling cider too.”

  “Oh! I thought it was champagne.”

  “I didn’t want either of us to be drunk when I seduce you.”

  “Oh. I see. Good idea,” I say. I let Silas walk me through my menu options and settle on a bit of the chicken alfredo and this ninety meat lasagna that’s fucking delicious. When I can’t stand to eat another bite, I lie back and put my head on his thigh. We have a perfect view of the sunset.

  “This is some romantic ass shit, Mr. McInroy.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I think I have this dating thing down now. I just have to sleep with a woman five times before I ask her out.”

  I snort as I sit up. “Let me know how that works out for you. When does the apple harvest begin?”

  “Next week. Global warming fucked everything up.”

  “How so? I mean, I know, but how specifically?”

  “When we were kids, things didn’t kick off until September, but it feels like every year the harvest gets moved up more and more. Then the winters have been shorter. Our trees need a real hibernation period to produce the best fruit. There are farms in the last ten years—their whole harvest failed. We had to send apples down to a farm in Vermont to sell at their country mart just so they would have something for customers.

  “Hmm,” I say.

  “What?”

  “I just never considered how stressful this all must be. It seems to be going so well and everyone here seems so happy.”

  He tilts his head, pursing his lips. “So far, so good. We’ve been lucky.”

  I almost ask him something heavy. I almost ask him what he really wishes he was doing, but it doesn’t seem fair, especially with the family related drama we still have looming over everything. He wants a romantic evening, I want a romantic evening. No reason to fuck that up with more intense conversation.

  “Well, sir. You’ve taken me on a lovely drive to the East orchard, fed me a delicious meal and distracted me from all the crap going on in my life. I think you mentioned something about a grand seduction?”

  He reaches up and toys with my bangs a bit. “I changed my mind.”

  “You changed your mind?”

  “I had a plan, but I think you were right.”

  “About what?”

  “I like it when you’re in charge.”

  “Oh you do?”

  He nods. “It’s… what’s the word I’m looking for. Liberating. It’s nice not having to think so hard. Especially when I’m with you.”

  “See? When you have a smart, sexy, capable woman on your hands, sometimes it’s better to let her do the thinking.”

 
“I agree.”

  “So I’m in charge. I can handle that. Hmm, let me think. If I had known this was my party, what would I have done differently?” I look around. It’s probably best to leave the fire bucket alone. “You brought condoms right?”

  He leans back and reaches behind the picnic basket and pulls out the box and that same tiny bottle of lube. I suppress another snort and take the lube out of his hand.

  “Do you have something specific in mind you want to do with the lube?” I ask.

  “You want me to narrow it down to one thing?”

  I look at him, shocked. “See, there’s a low key freak in that head of yours. Should have known. Okay, tell me one thing you want to use the lube for.”

  “If I have to pick one thing, I’ll go with anal sex.”

  “Oh? Really going for it, huh?” I say like it’s something I’ll deny him, but I absolutely will not. Just the thought of it makes me wet.

  “You made it sound like I should take advantage of this situation and dream big. From what you’ve told me, it doesn’t sound like you usually let guys choose.”

  “No, I don’t. I have to say it’s been a while for me—”

  “When was the last time?” he asks unexpectedly.

  “The last time I had anal intercourse?” A scene immediately pops into my head. An investment banker named Richard, who spent years earning it, but Silas doesn’t need all those details.

  “More than three years ago. Let’s just say that.”

  He looks at me like he wants to know more, but he knows what I’ll say if he keeps pushing. I appreciate that he keeps those thoughts to himself.

  “How about you? When was the last time for you?”

  “I’ve never done it before.” For some reason that sends confetti cannons off in my head.

  “Are you telling me I get to be your first?” I ask as I rise up on my knees and wrap my arms around his shoulders. He moves his leg, then wraps his arms around my waist so he can pull me a little closer.

  “Yes.”

  “Well then we’re gonna have to make this extra special. Do you have any other requests?”