by Multiple
“You are not going to believe what just happened to me,” Annie whispered as she pulled her panties down and sat to pee. Chloe stood at the door, her arms crossed over her chest.
“You mean while you were alone pouting in the kitchen?” Chloe scoffed, rolling her eyes.
“I wasn’t alone.” Annie grinned and bit her lip, reaching for the toilet paper.
Someone knocked and the sisters both said, “Someone’s in here!”
“It’s me, Becca!”
Chloe opened the door for their sister, who came in and sat on the edge of the enormous Jacuzzi tub.
“What’d I miss?” Rebecca asked. “Holy cow, Annie, what were you doing in the kitchen, wrestling?”
“Is it that bad?” Annie flushed the toilet. At the sink, she peered into the mirror as she washed her hands.
“So what is going on with you?” Chloe asked, still propped against the door.
“There was a guy under your kitchen table.”
“What?” Rebecca echoed Chloe as she stood.
“In fact…we had sex on your kitchen table.”
“Annie!” both sisters exclaimed simultaneously.
Annie grinned into the mirror, rubbing her fingers under her eyes to lessen the raccoon-look and grabbed Chloe’s hairbrush from the shelf.
“And now I’m going home with him.” She yelped when she brushed the back of her hair, having forgotten about the lump on her head.
“Who is this guy?” Chloe frowned.
“I don’t know,” Annie admitted, grabbing a lipstick off the shelf and applying some. “Ick! Chloe, how old is this stuff? And cheap! You have more money than God, go visit the counter at Neiman Marcus once in a while, would ya?”
“What’s his name? Is he cute? What does he do?” Rebecca stood behind Annie, helping her tuck her skirt tag in and straighten the lines of her blouse.
“Eric.”
Chloe shook her head, still frowning. “I don’t know an Eric.”
“You don’t know everyone.” Annie sighed and grabbed a tissue to rub off the awful-tasting lipstick.
“I do in my own house!” Chloe insisted, reaching past Annie’s head and opening the medicine cabinet. “We didn’t invite any Eric.” She handed her a twenty dollar tube of Christian Dior lipstick. “All you had to do was ask. I keep that stuff out for the cousins to play with.”
“Thanks. Digital Brown? Who do they have naming these things now, robots?” Annie admired the way it slid over her lips, like silk. Much better.
“Don’t change the subject,” Chloe admonished. “We need to know who this mystery man is.”
Annie opened the cabinet back up to search for more. She found eye shadow, mascara, eyeliner, and put them on the counter. “What does it matter? Seriously. He’s incredible!” Annie beamed at Chloe in the mirror and then turned to grasp Rebecca’s hands, squeezing.
“She looks happy,” Rebecca admitted. She smiled back at Annie’s infectious enthusiasm.
“Yeah, and so did Diane Keaton in Mr. Goodbar. Remember what happened to her?” Chloe quipped, reaching past Annie into the medicine cabinet again. “You need darker mascara than that. Here.”
“Mr. Goodbar?” Rebecca giggled. “Wasn’t that like 1970-something?”
“Richard Gere.” Annie sighed. “Now there’s a man like fine wine…”
Chloe stepped between them like she was breaking up a fight. “Listen, you two, I’m being serious, now, okay?” Annie turned back to the task of applying make-up.
“So bring him out! Let us meet this incredible guy,” Rebecca said, flipping the fuzzy lid down and taking a seat on the toilet. “Does he look like Richard Gere?”
“I’m meeting him outside. He’s…kind of shy,” Annie explained, making her mouth that strangely perfect, unconscious O as she applied mascara.
“Shy enough to have sex on my kitchen table?” Chloe snapped.
“Shy enough to hide under it for most of the party,” Annie said with a shrug.
“What, is he deformed?” Chloe asked, making a face.
“Maybe he has social anxiety disorder,” Rebecca remarked, handing her sister the eyeliner. “My friend Bill has that.” Annie smiled a thank you.
“Annie, be reasonable.” Chloe smoothed her sister’s long, dark hair affectionately with her hand. “You don’t know this guy. What if he’s some psycho? I mean, a person has to be pretty weird to be sitting under a table at a party, right?”
“Well…maybe…” Annie admitted. She rubbed her lips together and grabbed another tissue to blot them. In the harsh light of the bathroom, with both of her sisters there to nudge her, she had to admit it was a pretty strange situation.
“Just bring him out and let us meet him.” Chloe rested her chin on Annie’s shoulder, looking at her through the mirror. “I’m sure if I don’t know him, Rebecca probably does.”
“Chloe, I can’t,” Annie admitted. “He wouldn’t even let me turn on the kitchen light.”
Chloe sighed, shaking her head and pulling Annie’s hair fully out from under her collar, gasping when she noticed the marks on her neck. “My god, did he do this?”
Annie blushed. “Yeah.”
“Okay, this guy is bad news, Annie.” Chloe fingered her sister’s bruised flesh. “I’m telling you. You can’t do this.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Rebecca said, coming to look at the marks.
The pair flanked Annie now, and her eyes flickered from one sister to the other in the mirror.
Chloe crossed her arms. “Annie, you are not leaving here with some strange guy I don’t know.”
“Who are you, my mother?” Annie scoffed, picking up the make-up and shoving it back into the medicine cabinet.
“Annie, please…we love you,” Rebecca said, holding onto her arm and resting her cheek against her shoulder.
“We’re just thinking of your safety,” Chloe added.
“I know, I know.” Annie sighed, doing a last once-over in the mirror and turning to face them. She put an arm around them both and they hugged her back. “Okay.” Annie relented, shaking her head. “You win, I’ll go get him.”
Annie made her way back toward the kitchen. She saw John on the way, dancing with the red-haired girl, his hands way too low on her ass. He leered at Annie as she passed, and she gave him the finger. She wondered if Eric was already out on the front porch. She looked out the beveled glass in the door, but she didn’t see him standing out there. She glanced behind her and saw Chloe and Rebecca talking to Dave, her sisters looking pointedly at her.
“I’m going!” Annie mouthed. She stood at the door for a moment, wondering why her hands were shaking, why her breath was so shallow and her heart was beating so fast. She had every right to go into her sister’s kitchen, every right to turn on the light. Besides, they were right, she had to know.
She took a deep breath, opened the swinging door with one hand, and flipped the light on with the other. She stood, holding the door open, staring at the kitchen. One chair was still pulled away from the table. The table itself was slightly askew from their arduous attention.
Where is he? Annie stepped toward the table, letting the door swing closed, and peered underneath, just to be sure. She smiled, remembering, her hand gliding over the smooth surface.
“No lights, Annie. It was all I asked.” His voiced was pained, hoarse. “You promised.”
She whirled around, her hand over her heart, to see him standing behind the door. “Eric?” It was a question, but she knew. It couldn’t be anyone else, although the difference between her expectation and reality staggered her. He was the most physically beautiful man she had ever seen.
“You made a promise.” He turned and pushed through the swinging door. “Why couldn’t you keep your promise?”
In her panic, Annie forgot how to breathe, and those few moments of stunned silence cost her. She followed him through the dancing couples, calling his name. The front door stood open, the porch light on. She hugged herself agains
t the cold February wind as she peered out the door. Stumbling down the steps, she stopped at the sidewalk, looking frantically in both directions to see which way to run, but there was no sign of him. He was gone. Annie sat on the stoop, burying her face in her hands. She gave into her lament with a long, mournful wail that brought both of sisters running. They tried to comfort her, but Annie found no solace in their murmured words, lost in the sudden, unexpected breaking of her heart.
Chapter Three
“Annie, I think I got it!” Rebecca announced with a squeal.
Annie pressed the speakerphone button off, picking up the receiver and putting one finger up to her client.
“Yes?” Annie asked, turning her face toward the wall.
“Do you remember Sarah McLean?”
“No. I’m with a client.” Annie smiled an apology over her shoulder at the woman sitting on the tan leather sofa. The black bag she was clutching to her side shook so much with the woman’s anxiety that, when she first came in, Annie had been sure that there was a small dog inside.
“Okay, I’ll talk fast. Sarah McLean is organizing our ten year class reunion and she called me yesterday asking if I had any current numbers for people. Can you believe it’s been ten years since I graduated—?”
“Rebecca!”
“Yeah, yeah. So anyway, I was looking through my book, and I remembered who Eric was. He was that hot guy who moved to our school in my senior year, remember? My god, if he aged well, you’re right, he’s gorgeous!”
“Rebecca!”
“Yeah, okay. Anyway, I forgot that I had called Eric’s mom the week of the Valentine’s party, asking if she had a new number for him. He’s your Eric, Annie. I’m sure of it!”
Annie’s brow knitted, and she grabbed a pen. “Give me a number.”
“Now, remember, this is his mother. But I’m sure she can tell you his new number. I know I wrote it down once because I called and left him a message inviting him to the party, but I don’t seem to have it in my book—”
“Number, please,” Annie reminded her.
Rebecca rattled it off.
“Her name?”
“Gosh, I don’t remember. His last name is Desiree, but I don’t know if they’re the same.”
“Okay, thanks, I’ll call you back.” Replacing the receiver, Annie faced her client. “I apologize for the interruption. Please continue.”
The slight woman moved her purse to her lap, as if it was a shield, and began talking again in a small, quivering voice. Annie nodded, picked up her notepad again and scribbled as she listened. Her pen circled the number in the margin twice, and her brow knitted again, her lips pressing together.
Eric. She could still feel the disappointment of her error like a weight compressing her soul. She saw him in her darkest moments—his beautiful, crestfallen face—and his sad, betrayed look just before he had disappeared. Annie wrote down “severe anx/neurosis, further testing req” at the end of her notes. The client had stopped speaking and was looking at her expectantly.
“How does that make you feel?” Annie asked, and when the woman spoke again, her words droned with a troubled, rising buzz.
Annie often believed she could diagnose from tone alone. Her thoughts wandered again, and she remembered back in February, the secret feeling of sitting with Eric in the darkness under her sister’s kitchen table, how much they had learned about each other in that short hour together. Probably more than she had ever learned about any client in a fifty minute session.
“Well, our time is up,” Annie said, sensing a pause. “Is there anything else you wanted to address today?”
Her client stood, still clutching her bag in her fists. “No. Thank you, Dr. Thanos.”
“I’ll see you next week.” When Annie shut the door behind her and leaned against it with a sigh, she consoled herself that she had spent at least most of the hour being attentive to her work. She rubbed her eyes, sitting in her rolling chair and pulling it up to the computer so she could type in her notes. The number stared back at her—circled twice.
Before she knew it, the phone was in her hand. She punched the buttons with her pen, hesitating before pressing the last one. Do I really want to do this? Her stomach lurched, and she reached for one of the Saltines she kept hidden behind the Kleenex box, stuffing it into her mouth and pressing her pen down on the last number.
It rang nine times before someone answered. She counted, having resigned herself at ring six to give up at ring ten. Unfortunately, it was just a machine finally kicking in.
“Hello, darlings, this is Dita. You know what to do.” BEEP.
Annie swallowed her cracker dry. “Hi there. I am calling for the reunion committee for the Class of 1996, and I’m looking for a current number for Eric Desiree.” She left her name and number on the machine and hung up.
Fifteen minutes later, having tried to find Eric using Google, the Yellow Pages, and every other means she could think of, she stared at her computer screen, her motionless hand still on the mouse.
I have to find you. Annie rubbed her eyes again, toeing off her heels and putting her feet up on her desk. She smiled, remembering how she had bumped her head leaning back in the chair that night and how he had comforted and tended her. She remembered the heat between them, like a shock, the incredible passion of that night. She drifted, giving in to her exhaustion.
Eric’s hands slid slowly up her thighs. She loved his hands the most, so large and warm, the way he pulled and grabbed at her, like he wanted her. What was it about him, that she knew it, without even a trace of doubt? It was in his eyes, his hands. He wanted her.
The black velvet darkness enveloped her and she strained her eyes in the dimness. Where was she? She touched the hard, cold surface under her hands. Her body was splayed for him, her arms and legs thrown wide, her hair fanning out over her shoulders. She knew she was beautiful, like a goddess. If only he could see her…
His hands spread her legs further apart and back, exposing her completely to him. His fingers probed, his tongue, too, the wet heat of his mouth so hungry! He made eager sucking and licking sounds between her legs, drinking her like she was the only nourishment he’d had in eons.
Annie moaned in her sleep, shifting in her chair, the aching heat between her legs growing intense. Her hand found its way up under her skirt, cupping the damp crotch of her panties.
Eric’s fingers became rougher, spreading her open, shoving into her and curling up again and again, like he could peel her from the inside. She writhed and moaned, bucking against him, not caring if someone heard. He wanted to hear her. Somehow, she knew he wanted her response, and she gave it to him.
Then he moved onto her. It was so fast, and yet it seemed to go on forever. He had a hundred hands, grabbing her breasts, pinching her nipples, cupping her ass, plunging into her pussy. She tried to keep up with him, but she couldn’t. She could only let him have her, take her. My pussy was yours the minute you touched it, Eric… She knew the whispered thought was true. Her pussy responded for him in ways she didn’t understand, as if it were weeping with joy at his touch.
His cock was hot steel, impaling her again and again. She couldn’t get enough of it, of him. What was it about this man that made her want to worship every sweet, glorious inch of him? Never had someone filled her so completely, made her long for him so much. Her pussy spasmed as she felt herself being opened by him, bit by bit, the hard press of his flesh spreading hers. The way he stayed there and kissed her before he started pulling out, the throbbing feel of the tip buried deep inside of her made her close her eyes and clutch at him. He used that deliciously fat, bulbous head to collect all her juices, pulling it along her hot, tight passage toward the light—wetting the way.
He hesitated for a moment and then…oh, god, he started to fuck her so hard—so hard and fast and breathless and sweaty in the heat of the sun. The light? Where was the light coming from? She was aware of the ground beneath her now as they rocked. There was the sound of wate
r coming from somewhere, but her eyes didn’t search it out. Instead, Annie opened her eyes and saw him—the most beautiful man she had ever encountered. She gloried in the sight of him, and knew he was hers. She could feel it in the way his thighs pressed against her, see it in the way his dark hair curled behind his ear, and knew it in the outline of his mouth, drawn tight, as he drove even deeper inside of her.
“Eric, look at me!” Annie urged, wrapping her legs around his waist. “Please, look at me.”
She felt his smile against her cheek. “I don’t need to.”
And she knew it was true. He knew her in ways she didn’t even know herself.
They sank into blackness again, floating on a mattress like a soft cloud in the darkness. He fucked her with all of his strength, his muscles straining, his breath hot on her face. She met him, crazy with her own lust, bucking under him until her body screamed for release. She moaned and gasped in his ear, calling his name, begging him for more. The words didn’t matter, she just had to release her breath, or die. And he gave her what she wanted, left and right and sideways and upside-fucking-down.
He was relentless. He pinned her legs back practically to her ears, driving into her with a force that didn’t seem possible. His fingers rubbed her clit, just the way she loved, using the hood to tease the little bud underneath. She felt her climax swelling like something about to burst. He seemed to know it, too, because he gave her even more, grinding his pelvis into hers, forcing her pussy to its edge and beyond. She came all over his cock in great, shuddering waves that made her clench around him in sweet desperation.
But he didn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. He spread her out onto her belly, his cock shoving so far up inside of her that she thought she could taste it. She just let him take her, going along for the ride. The weight of him was crushing the breath out of her, leaving her panting and clawing at the mattress.
He quickly sent her out into orbit again, and she couldn’t remember how to get back. Eric bit at her neck and shoulder as she came again, his cock impaling her, and still, he didn’t stop. She tried to crawl away, almost frightened by the intensity of his lust, but his tongue changed her mind. He rolled her onto her back and licked her. She was a dripping mess and he licked her clean, moving around so he could shove his hard cock down her throat.