by Grey, Parker
“I’ll show you. This way.”
I lead her down to the ground, and we hop through the snow. It looks like we got about a foot. The snow is almost blinding beneath the blue sky and bright sun, and we both slip on sunglasses, without thinking.
Around the side of the cabin sits a heavy wooden door, which I grab and slide sideways, throwing my shoulder into it, putting my muscles to work. Inside sits my snowmobile, heavy and gleaming.
I straddle the seat.
“Hop on,” I tell Emma.
“Is it safe?”
I toss her a helmet.
“It’s fast.”
Emma throws a leg behind me and climbs on. I feel her legs close around me, the heat of her core radiating through me.
“Hold on,” I say, and she slides her arms around my waist.
“No, really hold on. Tighter,” I tell her. Even though she was holding on tight enough I like feeling her arms around me.
She says something back, but it’s muffled through her helmet. Doesn’t matter. I gun it, and out we fly into the snow.
Behind me, I hear Emma laughing. We cross the field in no time, rumbling through it without care, and then we hit the slope. All of the weight on the snowmobile shifts as we bounce hard into the new angle of the ground.
Emma gasps and her fingers dig into me. She’s stronger than she looks.
We reach a small crest and the snowmobile leaves the ground. Behind me, through the helmets, I hear Emma screaming. I feel bad, but I can’t help laughing.
We land hard and bounce into the seat. Emma’s hips slide from side to side against me as she fights to keep her balance, pulling herself up with her strong grip on my ribs. We crest the next mound and we’re airborne again. This time Emma laughs with me.
At last we reach a smooth switchback trail and the ride smooths out. We climb up, taking the turns fast, rising in elevation quickly. At the corners, the view opens up from the hillside before us and we suddenly see the whole valley, the retreat, the treetops, the roads, the open air.
Then we climb higher, and the air is everywhere around us, falling away from us on all sides, as we reach the ridge line. I stop the machine, pull Emma’s hands off my chest, and climb off.
Emma follows me and looks down the steep slope to the far side of the mountain. Down below lies another valley, but this one is different. No roads, no buildings, just trees, lakes, and fields of snow.
“What do you think of the location?” I ask.
“I think I’m glad I survived.”
She jabs me in the ribs, acting mad, but she can’t keep a straight face, she’s starting to crack a smile.
“You could have warned me about some of those jumps.”
“Why?” I ask her.
Emma laughs again. “You know, you can be a real dick.”
“You’re confused,” I grin. “I have a real dick.”
Emma’s already got the camera out. She looks up at me and smiles. It’s a more confident smile than I’ve ever seen from her.
“True,” she says, her eyes sparkling dangerously. “Want to take it out for the camera?”
“I stay behind the scenes,” I answer. I smack her ass, enjoying how it shakes in her tights.
“Careful,” Emma warns me. “Don’t make me drop my camera. You can buy a lot of things, but a girl’s camera is irreplaceable.”
She looks out through the viewfinder.
“I have to admit it’s a nice location. But look at the way the light hits the plateau over there. Can you take me there?”
I straddle the snowmobile again, feeling it rev up between my legs.
“Anywhere you want,” I say. She wraps herself around me and we ride down the slope.
Behind my helmet, I’m smiling, but somewhere, something is worrying me behind the smile.
There’s still something she’s not telling me.
Chapter Thirteen
Emma
It’s an incredible day on the mountainside. We photograph cliff faces and snowy fields across the Sierras, places that look untouched by any human, bright sunny undiscovered countries to explore together.
We ride around the edge of a glacial lake and come to a stand of trees on flat ground. As we ride into the trees, it grows dark. Then, we reach the end of the snow and Nolan stops the machine.
“A redwood grove,” Nolan says. They’re enormous, so big they don’t seem real. We walk on foot into the grove. Even the fallen logs rise taller than the trees outside my apartment at home. Above us is a dark canopy of leaves, so dense that the snow never reaches the ground.
Click. I snap as many pictures of this place as I can.
“Isn’t this incredible?” I say.
Nolan just smiles.
We walk deeper and deeper into the grove. The knobby and thick-barked trees grow even more massive, large enough to contain entire houses.
“This is the biggest I’ve ever seen,” I say to Nolan, but he’s distracted.
“Time to start heading back,” he tells me.
“Really?” I ask. “I could stay here for hours.”
He shakes his head.
I follow him back to the snowmobile. “What’s the rush?” I ask him as I climb on behind him and fumble with my helmet.
“Don’t want to be out here riding after dark. Besides, we have to get ready for tonight’s party.”
“Party?” I shout, but my voice is lost in the roar of the engine, and I have to grab onto Nolan’s waist as hard as I can to keep from falling off.
* * *
Later that evening, I check my eyeliner in the mirror and wonder again what kind of party we’re going to. Nolan’s been teasingly tight-lipped about it so far, only concurring that I’m dressed properly. Beyond that, he won’t say anything.
The last party I attended had a table of vodka and soda, a couple of half-finished bottles of wine, a cooler of beer, and a bunch of cookies. Jen hosted at her place, and she made the cookies. A couple of our friends from trivia night at the bar showed up, along with a few people Jen worked with a while ago. Two guys named Matt showed up later on.
I think I tried to strike up a conversation with one of them, but I had had a few drinks and they seemed more interested in arguing with each other about movies anyway.
I don’t know what to expect from this party, but I’m pretty certain that it won’t be anything like that. At the very least, I’m dressed much better.
We follow the path through the Redwood Retreat and, despite what Nolan must expect of me, I have no problem walking in heels on the bumpy stones. It’s only the dress I have to worry about. It’s tighter than any I have at home, tight enough that I can’t move my legs the way I’m used to. It looks great, though. It doesn’t bunch up or pinch me the way a too-small dress would.
How is it that these clothes fit me better than my own? Must be witchcraft, or at the very least, some sort of Hollywood wizardry.
The problem isn’t the dress, it’s my stride. I’m used to moving fast, hurrying, and now I keep stepping forward and pulling at the dress.
This dress is made for lingering. It’s made for leisure. It’s made for fun. It’s a gray sheath dress that somehow shimmers green when the fabric folds, and I’m sure it’s worth more than my car.
If Nolan notices me stumble, he doesn’t say anything. He’s been quiet all evening.
We turn a corner and there’s a massive lodge in front of us. We climb up the beautiful steps of rough-cut wood to the heavy and tall oak doors. It’s like something from a dream of mountains, a forestland palace, with lush trees above us and warm light glowing through the windows.
I reach over and straighten Nolan’s tie. He’s acting odd, though, and he hardly notices. He just sighs and frowns at me.
“Guess we can’t put this off any longer,” he says.
Before I can ask what he means, the door opens, and the Redwoods Retreat staff are pulling us inside, taking our coats, and filling our hands with drinks.
Enorm
ous logs crackle in the fireplace, and the firelight reflects off the crystal in the chandeliers, and shines up through the glass roof, lighting up the dark treetops towering above us. We’re indoors and out, daytime and night, all at once.
“Nolan Maddox,” a familiar voice shouts. I bring my eyes down and remember that we’re in a room of people. I look past the passing neckties and find the person striding towards Nolan.
I can’t remember his name, but I feel like I’ve met him before. He’s very handsome, but a little strange looking, with stubby legs and a big head, and an impossibly thick head of black hair that doesn’t match his gray beard. Why do I know him?
Nolan shakes his hand.
“Glad you could make it.” He doesn’t introduce me.
I wonder if he’s embarrassed to have me with him.
“Have you found me a girlfriend yet?” the older man asks. What is this about? I wonder.
“Still looking for the right actress. But we’ve found some great locations. Emma’s got the pictures, right Emma?”
I’m struck silent when I suddenly realize where I’ve seen this man before. His face has looked down at me from billboards and up at me from tabloids from years. He’s an actor.
More than an actor. An icon. He must be in Nolan’s movie.
I glance around the party, and I suddenly realize where I am. This isn’t a real party at all. It’s a work event — and Nolan’s coworkers are movie stars.
I don’t know what to say, and then the conversation moves on. Complaining about the budget, talking about changes to the screenplay.
I feel incredibly out of place, and I’m certain they can see it in my face.
“Excuse me.” I push past them.
I look for somewhere to go, but everywhere is crowded. Old men, young men, faces I recognize, even a few women, beautiful, of course. They’re standing around a table of… is that caviar?
Suddenly I would give anything to trade that spread for a plate of Jenny’s cookies, a vodka and Sprite, and a couple of loud dudes named Matt. At least there I know how to handle myself.
I find a door and walk through it, following the signs for the bathroom. The unnecessary bathroom trip, last resort of the desperate, bored, and anxious.
It’s bright in the hallway, brighter than in the party, so I look down, but the sound of high heels on tile catches my ear, and I’m horrified when I look up.
It’s Kitty, in short shorts and sunglasses, and next to her is that grubby man from Nolan’s studio.
They’re the last people I wanted to see.
Without even thinking, I turn the closest corner I can find. If they saw me, they didn’t show a sign of it. They probably think I’m staff.
The click of Kitty’s heels and the flop of Marwin’s feet tells me that they’ve passed. But I don’t want to leave this alcove. In my hand, I still have the drink. Some kind of cocktail, with gin and herbs floating in it, very fancy.
Still wishing for that vodka and Sprite, I sip it anyway, gathering courage.
But I don’t want to leave. If I were younger, I would be crying, but now I’m not feeling much at all. I’m just waiting. Waiting for… I don’t know what.
Waiting for something to happen, something to finally clear up this fog, this confusing mess. I don’t know what I’m doing here, I don’t know why Nolan would bring me, I don’t know why he would want to spend time with me at all. Nothing makes sense and I can’t stop thinking about it, but I never understand it.
Then he’s there, standing in front of me. Nolan Maddox, shoulders and chin and all.
He looks down at me, and I still can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Taking a break?” he asks.
I don’t know what to say, as usual, so I apologize.
“Sorry,” I say. As usual.
He takes the glass from my hand and finishes my drink in a single swallow.
“A break sounds like a great idea,” he says.
“We can go back now,” I tell him, stepping out of the alcove. “But I should warn you, I saw—”
He pushes me back. “I don’t want to go back,” he says. He slips an arm around me and turns the handle of the door at my back. “Not yet.”
The door opens and I fall through it. I would be on the ground if Nolan didn’t catch me with the arm wrapped behind me. We’re in a wine cellar, it’s dark and cool, but I barely have time to take it in. That’s because Nolan’s face is up before mine.
He looks so different up close, his eyes soft, his mouth close. It happened fast. Just as fast, I’m wet.
Our lips meet.
When we separate, I open my eyes, and see that the door is still open. I reach to close it, but he pushes me back again, up against the cold shelves.
“What if someone comes in here?” I ask.
“Someone will.” Nolan hikes my dress up. “You.”
I lean forward and kiss him as he brings his hand inside my dress. He rubs me through my panties and I lean back, careful not to make too much noise.
We’re off to the side, but I can still see a slit of the open door and hallway beyond. Someone walks past, but doesn’t glance inside the dark room. A rush of danger prickles across my skin, and I pull Nolan closer.
I pull my panties to the side.
“Faster,” I whisper, still watching the door, hoping none of the bartenders run out of wine and come running for more.
He grabs me, slipping inside of me, his other hand pressing my ass, pulling me forward, off-balance. I stop trying to stand and lean between him and the wall, letting his body hold me upright, because the sensation takes over everything.
I don’t even know what he’s doing, but he’s moving me, my whole body, with his hands, his thumb against my clit, moving with me. It’s building, building, until I almost can’t stand it, when… Nolan slows down. His thumb comes off my clit.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
“Don’t rush me,” he says, then he slowly draws circles, bringing me back. A sigh escapes my lips, I can’t help it. I’m rising, climbing up on Nolan, climbing inside, building, rising, when he stops again.
“What are you doing?” I hiss. I suddenly realize how sweaty I am.
“You know,” Nolan says, “I still get the feeling you’re not telling me something.”
“Someone is going to find us,” I say, my eyes flicking back to the door.
“If you don’t want to be here, you can leave.”
“You can’t,” I say. “You can’t leave me like this.”
I want to throw myself against him, hips first. I can barely think.
“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the cloth of my panties between his hands, ripping straight through them, and whipping them off of me. Then he’s got my thigh in his hands and he’s lifting it up until my right heel is resting on the shelf behind him, and I’m spread open in front of him. He traces the entrance to me and presses in, finding my clit, pressing me, playing me like a piano.
This time I do more than sigh.
“Oh fuck,” I say, I have no idea how loud. His face is on top of mine.
I’m losing myself again, and then all of a sudden, I’m on the edge. It’s almost unbearable.
“Fuck,” I whisper in his ear, my voice shaking. “I’m going to come.”
“That’s not up to you,” he whispers back.
He slows down, keeping the rhythm but changing the tempo. I’m coming back to reality, back to the open door, the sound of voices outside. Nolan grabs my chin and turns me towards him.
“There’s something you wanted to say earlier. You wanted to, but you stopped yourself. Tell me.”
I don’t want to answer, but I can’t stay quiet when I feel the strength of his hand on my face, and I moan. “Not fair,” I gasp.
“Say it,” he orders.
I feel the wave building, and I honestly don’t know how I’ll survive, it’s so intense. I can’t bear it. The only thing worse is the thought of stopping.
“It
’s okay,” Nolan says, and the intensity never lets up, never changes, like a wave that never breaks on the shore. “Tell me.”
I open my mouth. “Ohhhhh.” It takes a second to get control, to find a moment between gasps. At last, I summon just enough control to speak. “I fucking love you, Nolan.”
Nolan smiles.
“Good,” he says. Then the wave breaks on the shore, and my whole body clenches as it crashes over me, again and again. I arch back, not even knowing how Nolan is holding me, seizing from my toes to my tongue, my clit controlling me, and I come so hard and so long that I’m not sure I can take it.
I shudder through the last of the crashing waves and reach out for something to hold onto, trying to get my heel unstuck from the shelf, trying to get my balance back.
Nolan holds me steady while I learn to stand again.
“Come on.” He brushes the sweaty strands of hair from my eyes. “We have a party to get to.”
Chapter Fourteen
Nolan
I’m not sure Emma realizes the condition she’s left me in as we walk out of the wine cellar. She’s flushed red and smiling, a bit of sweat in her hair. As for me, I’m aching, feeling like I might come apart at the seams, I want her so bad. I wish I could have her now, but our time in this wine cellar is just about up.
Stay any longer and we will definitely be walked in on, as I expect that bartender on the left will be running out of Malbec in about three minutes.
Besides, I want her somewhere that I can take my time. Somewhere she can be as loud as she wants without anyone else hearing. I don’t really care about getting caught, but I know she does.
So there’s nothing for me to do but walk back out there with a hard-on so big that I can’t fully straighten my leg. That should make this interminable party more interesting for me. I can’t wait until I can take her back to the cabin and pull that damn dress off of her, and finally do what every fiber inside me wants to do.
But until then, we’re back in this dark room, doing what other people say we should, making small talk.