I pull away and press my finger against his lips. If Johnny wakes up, it'll be a bear to get him back in bed.
“It's like we already have kids,” he whispers, nine-tenths jokingly, one-tenth annoyed.
Carter lowers me to my feet and pulls off his shirt. He is a catch: kind, loyal, a med student. Oh— and tall, blond, with honest brown eyes and a jawline most models would covet. We've been together for over three years. He was my first serious boyfriend. First everything to be honest.
I slide my tank dress to the floor, leaving myself naked besides my panties. He kisses me and sits on the bed, pulling me towards him by my fingertips.
The room is dark, but the light from the living room beaming into my bedroom is enough to illuminate him. His tousled blond hair and warm eyes glitter as they reflect the light. His long, lean limbs glimmer in the dark. He's everything I should want. He's everything I do want. But though I am going through the motions, nothing stirs inside of me. It's always the same. And for a while that was enough, but I have found myself wondering about more. Wondering about what it would be like to be with someone different. Someone who wasn't so safe.
Carter is hot cocoa with marshmallows. Sometimes I wish he'd be a shot of absinthe.
But I love him. And he is everything I could ever want. This is just a lull. So, I go with the routine, sliding my panties to the floor and mounting him.
“Mmmm, Vesper,” he groans as I rub myself against him. I'm not wet, so I can't slide onto him. I keep kissing him, faking passion in hope things will turn. That his kiss, like a flame to gasoline, will light me up, but nothing sparks. I feel safe. I feel secure in arms. But today, I can't feel aroused.
I kiss Carter's neck, closing my eyes to imagine the ones I saw at the library. Imagining him coming into the restaurant where I work a few nights a week. It's empty, so most of the lights are off. I can barely make him out, but those eyes tell me everything I need to know. I tell him I'm about to close up. He says he just wants a piece of pie. I relent. I go behind the counter and turn away from him to reach into the pie case. Then I feel his breath on my neck. I startle, but I don't scream.
“Don't turn around,” he rasps, reaching his right hand down my thigh, sliding it up and lifting my skirt. He pulls my panties to the side as his other hand reaches up and grips my neck.
“Don't say a word,” he whispers, clenching his fingers around my airway. He tugs my underwear down roughly, so that it rests halfway down my thighs, and then he pushes his way into me. I'm wet. So wet. And I let him pump into me. Dark. Dirty. Forbidden. A secret I will keep from my family. I'll tell myself it's fear that keeps me quiet. But it's because I didn't fight. I let him take me. He smelled the need, like an animal sniffing out prey, and he pounced.
As the stranger grunts into my ear, I tighten around his thickness. A swelling in my belly overwhelms me, taking my breath away.
I open my eyes. “Carter!” I call out. That's how I convince myself that this is okay. It's still Carter inside of me. My skin touching his skin. His brown eyes I stare into. His name I call out when I finally come. He doesn't need to know I just let a stranger fuck me, using his body as a proxy.
“Oh baby,” he utters, pumping himself inside of me. I watch the pleasure roll over his face as my orgasm weakens. If I had kept my eyes closed, if I had imagined the stranger, it would have gripped me. It would have taken my breath away. But I can't do that to Carter. So I rejoin him, and instead of that build up exploding like a bomb, it fizzles like a bum fire cracker.
Nonetheless, we come together. I collapse onto him for a second before rolling away and onto the bed, feeling unfulfilled. Feeling a tension between my legs that begs for a stronger release. Carter lies down next to me, perching his head on his hand, smiling, taking me in.
I feel guilty every time I do that. Every time I go somewhere else. I wouldn't feel so bad if it was a greedy act, something extra on top of my lust for him. But at this point, I need it. I need it to stay wet. I need it to come. I need it to engage at all.
After a trip to the bathroom, and getting dressed, I return to the bedroom. We don't have the luxury of mulling around naked. I watch Johnny so much it is like we have a child. And I love Carter for being so patient about that. A good-looking, smart, kind guy like him should be enjoying weekends out. Movies, parties, bars. But most of the time he's stuck with me, bound to responsibilities he never signed up for. I tell him he doesn't need to stay here with me, he can go join his buddies. He's in medical school and needs a break too. But he always ends up here.
Carter leans over and switches on a dim table lamp. “So, she's gone another two weeks?” he snickers. He really is patient, but he's not a saint. We're both so busy and I know it disappoints him that the little time we have together is often spent watching a special needs child.
“Yup. Pete has accrued so much time off, it's like they can't stop going on vacation. She keeps saying they're going to take him somewhere like Disney, but when was the last time they took him anywhere?”
“I just don't understand why you take her crap. He's not your responsibility.”
I sit up sharply. “He's my brother.”
“You know I didn't mean that,” he rebuts apologetically. “I love him, too. But your mom takes advantage of that. She knows it's in your nature to take care of others, especially him. And she just dumps him on you. You're young. You should be letting loose.”
“I've scolded her a million times. But they pay for my schooling, and I get to keep living here for free, and she holds that over my head. Like I earn my keep here by being his nanny. And you're right, I won't have him put in a stranger’s care, not for the length of time she leaves.” I tuck my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around them. “She has the upper hand. And I hate even having this talk because it makes me feel like I think Johnny is a burden. I am happy to watch him. He's such a good kid. And I'm here bitching about my life, when he's the one who's been dealt the unfair hand.”
“Hey,” Carter rests a hand on my lower leg reassuringly. “It's okay to be frustrated. This has nothing to do with your love for him. It has to do with your mom using that and using you. You take care of everyone else. I just want to make sure someone watches out for you.”
“I do have someone who watches out for me,” I say with a gentle smile, resting my hand on his. I mean it, even though we only get to see each other once a week lately, and I can’t be his primary focus with the pressures of med school, I know his thoughts are with me.
“I try. I know it seems like I'm always working or at school. But I will always be here for you. And I will make sure that you have fun and that you get to experience all life has to offer.”
Carter's tone is exceptionally tender, and somewhat larger than this conversation calls for. Like he's making a proclamation. He sits up and reaches into his pocket.
“I was saving this for the dinner we had planned this weekend, then your mom made the last minute trip and we had to cancel. I was going to wait, but I don't want to wait anymore, not a second longer.”
My eyes grow, my heart races. All the signs of what is about to happen are in front of me, but I won't believe it until I hear the words. He pulls a box out of his pocket and drops to one knee beside me on the bed.
“Vesper Rivers,” his voice wobbles, a contrast to the relaxed tone he had seconds before. “You are the most beautiful, generous, selfless, kind-hearted person I know. I want to be the man you deserve. And I would be humbled and honored if you would be my wife.”
“What?” I ask, unable to process the scene transpiring in front of me.
He chuckles nervously. “Vesp, will you marry me?”
“Will I—? Uh, ye—yes,” I answer, laughing.
He grabs my hand and slides on a solitaire ring. We embrace. Any nagging doubts or guilt I had earlier washes away. This feels good. This feels right. I couldn't pick a better man to be by my side in life.
As I pull away to look at Carter, he's beaming. “I lo
ve you, Vesp.”
“I love you, too.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds, not knowing how to handle the enormity of this new commitment.
“Wait,” he says, throwing his hands up as if a new idea just struck him.
“I brought some champagne. It's in the car. I didn't want to cause suspicion. Let me get that. Then I'll call my mom and dad quick. You want to call yours?”
“She's…” I swirl my finger towards the sky.
“Oh yeah, on a plane,” he chuckles awkwardly. “Alright, be right back with glasses and bells on.”
“Okay,” I nod with an anxious smile.
Carter runs to the door, and then stops, turning to run back to me. He darts a kiss on my lips. “I love you. Thank you.”
I laugh. He can be so adorable. “I love you, too,” I respond, shaking my head. “Now go, get the wine so we can celebrate!” I shoo him towards the door.
Carter runs out of the bedroom looking like an overjoyed, floppy-eared pup as I admire my ring. Like most girls, my thoughts immediately go to the wedding. What will I wear? What other jewelry would match the simple, yet elegant gold ring? The necklace my grandmother gave me would go perfectly. I used to wear it all the time, but after I almost lost it during a trip to Lake Tahoe, I keep it in a jewelry box, only to be used for special occasions.
Well, a wedding proposal is a special occasion, isn't it?
I open the jewelry box, resting on the top of a tall dresser, fingering through a few earrings and other necklaces, but I don't see the crescent moon charm.
“Huh?” I mouth to myself, switching on a tall lamp just beside me to get a better view. But I still can't find it. My heart races. This necklace is precious to me. My mother was a carefree hippy when I was a child. I spent most of my younger years in a commune. My mother was often busy tending to her own needs, and my grandmother, a child of the greatest generation, did not approve. She would take the long drive north whenever she could to pick me up and spend the weekend. She doted on me. She was what a mother should be. I lost her when I was thirteen and it was utterly devastating. She gave me this necklace on my thirteenth birthday shortly before she died. My name means evening prayer, so she said every night she looked up at the moon and prayed for me. And that this necklace reminded me of her.
By the time Carter returns to the room, the joy of the proposal is overtaken by full-blown panic. I had upturned every jewelry box onto my bed, and the necklace was nowhere to be found.
“What's going on?” he asks, his smile quickly changing to a frown of concern.
“I can't find the moon necklace. The one my grandma gave me,” I tell him, holding back tears.
“Okay, well just calm down. I'm sure it's here. When was the last time you saw it?”
“I—I don't remember exactly. But I know for a fact I put it in this box,” I proclaim, presenting it to him. “I know I did. I don't wear it because I almost lost it a long time ago and I spent hours combing the shores of Lake Tahoe trying to find it.”
“Well, maybe you put it somewhere else.”
“No, I didn't,” I snap. Maybe I'm going crazy. Maybe that man at the library was a vision. Maybe my memory is shot from the stress of classes and taking care of Johnny and my strained relationship with my mother.
I can tell Carter is disappointed by the shift the night has taken, but I have become a woman obsessed.
“I'm sorry Carter, but I won't be able to relax until I find this thing. It's all I have left of her. Something personal between us.”
“I understand,” he says, somewhat defeated. “How can I help?”
“You remember what it looks like?” I ask.
“Sort of.”
“Wait I have a picture up here from the last time I wore it. It's really clear on there.” I rifle through my picture board, looking for the picture I took at Lake Tahoe just before I lost it the first time.
“Okay, now I feel like I'm going insane,” I mutter.
“What?” he asks.
“I can't find the fucking picture,” I tamp down my urge to raise my voice. Waking up Johnny would only add to the stress, and my patience is as thin as a hair.
“Okay. Don't worry about it. It's a moon. I know what a moon looks like,” Carter says with some levity. “Let's give it an hour. After that, you need to let the thing find you. That's how it works. Deal?”
“Okay, but if I don't, I don't—” I bury my head in my hands. I feel the metal of the ring dig against my finger. Shit. He proposed and here I am just sucking all the joy out of tonight.
“We'll go to sleep and tomorrow, when we're fresh and well-fed, we'll go on the hunt again. I promise.”
I peek up through my fingers. “Deal,” I pout. “I'm sorry. I'm ruining everything. This night was so perfect.”
He runs a caring hand along the top of my head. “Hey, if I can't handle you through a lost necklace, what are you doing agreeing to marry me?”
I snicker.
“You'll find it. I know you will.”
Carter offers his hand to me and I reach out for it. Seeing the sparkling ring on my finger is a pleasant shock. I made the right choice.
Tonight was just supposed to be recon. I wanted to watch, learn more about her routines. Find out if there will ever be a time the kid won't be there. But shit, it seems like the kid is always with her. You'd think she's his fucking mom. She was alone for a while, which was nice. I watched her slender silhouette through her bedroom window as she changed into a simple dress. I watched her fondly tuck in her brother. She moved to the living room. It's harder to watch her there as the window faces the main street. It's safer in the bushes on the sides and back of the house.
So I wait by her bedroom. She'll be back eventually. Then I'll watch her evening routine. Experience her quiet, simple life. When she's home without her parents, it's easy to imagine myself in the house, eating a home-cooked meal she made for me, watching her undress to join me in bed.
They'll always tease you. No one understands you like I do.
The intrusive thoughts interrupt the fantasy. She'd never want me. I'll have to take her. I'll show her she's no better than me. Just like all the others. They groveled at my feet. They begged. I was their god. They all think they're smarter than me, but they're not. They're just ants in a farm I can squash whenever I feel like reaching in.
An hour or so passes and she's back in the room. But instead of a sweet angel who I can admire putting herself to bed, she's with him. That fucking prince. The guy who has probably never known a true trial since the day he was born. I can only see their outlines with the lights off. I watch, huffing like an angry bull as she mounts him. It's a mix of rage and arousal as it often is. Soon it'll be me, I tell myself. That makes it bearable. My throbbing cock begs for me to relieve myself in the bushes, but I resist. I want to save my nut for her. I want it to be so hard she screams as I puncture her. I refuse to relieve myself until I am inside of her.
They finish. They go about their business. It's the boring, monotonous stuff of living. Getting dressed. Going to the bathroom. The type of stuff I can watch mindlessly for hours if I allow myself. It lulls me into a hypnotic state. It's like watching a moving Norman Rockwell painting, except now everyone's got beards, long hair, and bell bottoms.
The guy turns on a lamp, so I can get a clearer view. I have to be careful, but as long as I stay low and make no sudden moves, they won't know I'm out here. It looks like they're talking about something serious. It's intimate. I've never really known intimacy. Watching it makes me ache, and then it makes me angry. I'd rather be angry than feel longing.
Suddenly, Mr. Perfect gets up. Then he's on his knees. This can't be fucking happening. This cannot be fucking real. The ache burns. It's like being punched in the stomach over and over again. It's like someone reaching in and clenching my heart with a handful of hot, shattered glass.
As I have trained myself to do, I convert the longing into fury. And this time, there is so muc
h of it that I boil into a blind rage. I need to expel this fire building in me. My instinct is to tear the bush in front of me to shreds. I tighten my fists as the lovebirds embrace, trying to contain the wrath that ascends in me like a flash flood.
Patience.
Fuck patience.
They mock me. They taunt me. Their white smiles and flawless faces show me the life I will never have. It's like they know I'm here and want to shove it in my face.
You can't trust them. Did you think you ever had a chance with her?
Fuck plans. I'm going to steal their joy just like they have so harshly snatched mine. He can't have her. I'm going to put my mark on her. I'm going to make Vesper mine. I'm going to be with them when they walk down the aisle. I'll be laced in every memory, every milestone.
I'm going in tonight.
I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It takes a while for Vesper to finally settle into bed. From what I could tell, she noticed that the necklace was missing. That's rare. Most people don't notice the things I have taken until after I've hit. I can tell what I took is important; it's nice to know the token I have of hers has so much emotional capital. That I'll always have an important part of her to relive what will happen tonight.
I'm not prepared. At least not as much as I would be if I came here tonight with the intentions of going in. But it's enough. I know the house. I left a roll of twine. The boy is there, but the parents are gone, so that's good enough. Mr. Perfect is there. That's great news. He won't be so perfect when I'm through with him.
My point of entry into the house is through her parent's bedroom. I cut the screen to access the window and pried it open when they were last out of town. I patched the screen up when I left, and they were none the wiser. So today, all it takes is a little yank on the seams of where I cut last to expose the window. And the window is unlocked just as I left it. I crawl in sideways, making sure that I am soundless. My heart races, but it's not nerves, it's being so close to something—someone—I have wanted more than anything ever before. It's the thought that this insatiable need will be fed.
Take Me With You Page 3