A Jar of Dreams

by Cartharn, Clarissa

  She reddened from the guilt of abandoning her study partner. She didn’t usually do something like that. But with Lucy’s constant pressure on her to stay away from William, she must have subconsciously avoided him.

  “I’m sorry. I can explain-”

  “No, don’t,” he said, clutching her hand. “Dance with me.”

  “I… I can’t.”

  “Oh come on, Anne. It’s a slow number. I waited so long for one so I could ask you.”

  He pulled her onto the dance floor, taking her hand in his. He moved into her, his other hand resting at her hips.

  “Do you know how beautiful you look today?” he said.

  She didn’t answer, barely understanding a word he was saying, her mind delving deeply into why a man like Eric would bother spending most of his time with her.

  “Anne, you know I like you, right?”

  The noise in the club began to hurt her ears and she tried to pull away from William. “I have to go.”

  “Yeah? Let’s go together. I know something better we could do at this time of the night.” His voice turned husky. His hand ran further down to her butt.

  She froze, her senses alerting her, zapping her back to reality. “Stop, don’t do that.”

  “Why? You let that Eric guy fuck you. I heard he lives with you now,” he said hoarsely. “I thought I’d take it slow. But oh man, you’re smart. Not the virginal girl I thought you were. You dropped me so fast for that bastard. And honey, I don’t take rejections too easily. You stood me up twice. Do you know that? But I was willing to let you go just for that one chance to have my cock ram up your pussy.”

  “William, you’re drunk,” she said, writhing in his arms.

  He laughed. “Is your boyfriend up for a ménage á trois? Come on, babe, I don’t mind, really.”

  “William, please… let me go,” she said harshly.

  Suddenly, she felt the man wretched off her. She heard a thump and some cries as someone fell to the floor.

  “Fight!” another cried.

  “Fight, fight fight!” a few others started chanting.

  Someone grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the club, giving her little chance to protest.

  “Get in,” he said sharply as he opened the door of a cab.

  “Eric?” she mumbled.

  “Get in!”

  He opened the front door and she barged through it.

  “Anne,” he said.

  “Don’t talk to me,” she snapped back as she marched up the stairs.

  “Well, we need to,” he followed after her angrily.

  He hadn’t said a word to her through their ride home, seething instead, his knuckles white from his clenched fist. His mind recalled how his body had grown limp when he had returned with her drink. She wasn’t where he had left her. He spun around, trying to spot her desperately in the dark club. He pushed past the crowd, looking for her. And with each second that passed, his heart thumped louder, his anxiety ringing in his ears. Anyone could do anything to her. Someone could slip something into her drink. They could take her away… rape her, kill her… and he probably would never even see her dead body. No, no, no! He pushed away his negative thoughts, focusing only on finding her. And then he saw her, a temporary relief sweeping over. It was then he noticed the angst in her face as the man she was dancing with ran his hands down her body and to her bottom. He strode over to them in quick heavy steps, his temper raging inside him. He grabbed the man by the shoulders and hit him squarely in his jaw. The man lost his balance, falling to the ground and taking with him the neighboring couple. He didn’t wait for the man to retaliate, clutching Anne’s hand instead and dragging her out of a now roaring club eager to see a fight.

  “Anne!” he shouted.

  “No, we don’t need to talk. And don’t follow me!” she growled as she opened her bedroom door.

  He wedged his foot in her door before she could slam it shut.

  She puffed angrily. “Have you got your foot in my door?”

  He didn’t bother replying, pushing it open and stepping into her room. He ran his hands through his hair with frustration. “Do you have any idea what you put me through tonight?”

  “Put you… put you through?” She threw her hands in the air. “Get out, Eric!”

  “I can’t believe you’re throwing a hissy fit after I saved you.” He shook his head with disbelief.

  “You hit my friend!”

  “You call a sleazy scumbag a friend? He was groping you!”

  “He was drunk! He isn’t usually like that. He’s nice, he’s polite. A true gentleman. If you hadn’t butted in with your Neanderthal ways, he would have realized his mistake.”

  “Damn, Lucy, she was right about him,” he mumbled to himself.

  “Excuse me?”

  Had she heard him? He shook his head. “When I tell you to stay put, you stay put. Do you hear me?” he said firmly, hoping she would take the bait and forget that he had mentioned her aide’s name.

  “Okay, stop that. Stop telling me what to do.”

  “So you keep saying. But the first chance you get, you fall into the arms of a potential molester.”

  She fumed. “How dare you? Get out. Get out!”

  He let out a frustrating roar and then slumped onto the edge of her bed instead, holding his head in his hands quietly. “I thought I had lost you again,” he muttered finally. “You weren’t there and I thought… someone… did… took…” He trembled. “And then I saw you with him. And I panicked. I couldn’t see…you… him…”

  She took small hesitant steps towards him. “I’m safe,” she whispered. She reached out for him and ran her fingers through his hair.

  He clasped her waist and pulled her to him, leaning his head into her mid-riff. She caressed him, running her palm over his hair to comfort him.

  He held her like that for a long while, relishing the tranquility of her protective arms as she continued to brush his hair. But then she tried to break away and he held onto her firmly. “Don’t.”

  She smiled, giving him a soothing pat as if to assure him she would be back. She walked over to her ipod and scrolled down to a song. She knew exactly which she wanted. She pressed in number 14- It’s not goodbye, Laura Pausini. Its tune pervaded the silence, filling the air in the bedroom with its melancholic lyrics.

  “Anne?” He lifted his eyes up at her.

  She extended her arms. “I believe I promised you a dance.”

  He rose up to his feet and walked up to her, resting his hands on her hips. She wound her arms around his neck, her head leaning into his shoulder as he began to sway to the soothing sounds of the song.

  And what if I never kiss your lips again, or feel the touch of your sweet embrace, how would I ever go on?, without you there’s no place to belong… ´til the day I let you go, ´til we say our next hello, it’s not goodbye…

  The words of the song reverberated through him. No, it’s not goodbye. Not yet. She was in his arms at the moment and that was all that mattered.

  “Will you sleep next to me tonight?” she whispered as he held her in his arms.

  The music had ended long ago, but she was reluctant to let go of him. He rubbed his cheeks into her hair. He didn’t want to leave her as well. The episode at the club had left him shaken. And he was sure that her little fight with him and her resolve to appear strong was simply a façade. She was just as discomposed and perturbed as he was.

  He caressed her back and sighed. For the last fifteen years, he had no one to watch out for. He lived recklessly because he had nothing to lose. And when you have nothing to lose, there is nothing to fear. But then she stepped into his life and now he found himself looking over his shoulders, worried someone would get to her before they got to him.

  “Yes,” he whispered and then hesitantly stepped away. “I’ll just go change into something more comfortable. I’m still in my suit,” he added with a grin.

  She smiled and nodded.

  He took a slow,
aching shower. He rubbed his knuckles which were slightly bruised from the punch he had thrown. He then raised his face into the spray of the shower. He wished it had the power to erase his history and every bad memory in his life as well.

  He gave one last splash of water on his face and then turned the faucet off. How long had he been in the shower? He grabbed his towel and wiped himself dry; his mind occupied with the woman three rooms down the hallway, waiting for him in bed.

  She hadn’t asked him to have sex with her. She just wanted him to sleep with her. He looked at himself in the mirror, his hair a dampened tousled mess. He smiled. And yet he was almost as excited as if she had asked him to make love to her. And as nervous as a man meeting his bride on their first night.

  He had wanted to change and go back straight to her. But he knew she would need time to get into something decent herself. He rummaged through his limited set of clothes anxiously, unable to decide what would not have her shooting out of bed and running for her life. He settled on a pair of shorts and a tee-shirt. He preferred to sleep without a shirt, but he wasn’t sure if Anne would welcome it so heartily.

  Five minutes later, he was standing at her doorway in a quandary on how he should enter it.

  “Eric?” she called from inside.

  “Uh… yes.” He threw the door open and stepped inside before his confidence could falter again.

  She was in a spaghetti strapped nightdress, her hair loose and about her shoulders. Her make-up was scrubbed clean and her face looked remarkably raw and fresh. She stepped back, looking diffident herself. Had she changed her mind?

  “Anne, are you okay?” he asked. “I could go back to my room if you want.”

  “No, no,” she said quickly. “I just haven’t… slept with a man before.” She bit her lips, standing awkwardly in the corner of the room.

  He looked at her over his brow and an ache pierced through his heart. She looked forlorn and helpless. He pulled off his shirt and threw it over a chair. If he had to protect her, he would have to get his tenacity back to do it.

  CHAPTER 13

  He reached out for her hand and she flinched slightly. He halted, thinking before he tried again.

  “It’s only me, Anne,” he said as slowly as he could. “It’s going to be exactly the same as when we hug each other, right? Except that we’ll be in bed.”

  He touched her hand and she remained standing in her corner as still as a post.

  “Of course, you don’t have to hug me,” he continued, trying to keep his voice light and cheery. “We don’t have to touch each other at all.” He clasped her face tenderly in the palm of his hands. “Do you trust me, Anne?”

  She put a hand over his and nodded. He smiled and led her to her bed. He pulled the covers back and helped her into it. After tucking her in properly, he walked around it and slid into the other side.

  He tucked his arm under his head as he stared into the darkness. The wind whistled through the trees outside, and a branch of an old Japanese maple tree scratched against the window.

  “I was scared,” she whispered after a long stretch of silence.

  He didn’t reply. He glanced over at her and she was laying crumpled on the edge of the bed with her back towards him.

  “I’ve had men tease me, wolf-whistle and even bother me on the streets,” she said. “But never has anyone really touched me like that. It’s somewhat funny because I had always assumed I would feel more violated if someone physically touched me. I had always brushed off those remarks, pretending to be relieved that they at least had not touched me. But now that William did, I feel just as defiled. None is better or worse. I’m not sorry of the fact that I’m a woman. I’m pitiful because I can’t see who these fucking bastards are. And I can’t give back to them what they deserve.” She clenched her fists, spurting out short sobs. “I… never… never… thought someone I trusted… knew… would ever do that to me.”

  His jaw tightened from the frustration of his own wretched state. He wanted to kill those bastards himself. And if they were before him now, there was every chance he would. He wanted to hold her and tell her she would be fine. He wanted to assure her he would protect her forever. But that was a lie. He would be gone again. Back into a world of chaos and hate.

  She lay crying for a long time before she settled down again. She let out a sigh. “Oh, that was embarrassing. You didn’t hear that, did you? You’re sleeping, right?”

  He reached out and caressed her hair.

  She turned over and nuzzled up close to him, her head resting on his bare chest. “Thank you. I shouldn’t have screamed at you. I just didn’t know how to handle it.”

  He put an arm around her, loving the feel of her cheeks against his skin. “It’s late. You should rest.” He wished she would because he sure as hell wasn’t going to get any. He closed his eyes, trying his best to ignore the aching throb in his groin.

  Her hair fell on his shoulders and her fingers were splayed on his torso, delicately brushing his skin.

  “Did you hurt him bad?” she asked.

  “He had a busted lip. I don’t think I damaged anything vital.”

  She sighed again, closing her eyes. It didn’t take long for her body to grow limp. Her breath grew steady and deep and her hand fell down to his hip. She was finally asleep.

  He laid a kiss on her head and wrapped both arms around her.

  She awoke in the morning with the feeling of something jabbing into her behind. An arm tightened around her, his breath ruffling her hair slightly. She flushed, recalling the events of the night. Where did she have the gall to ask him to sleep with her?

  Her nightdress had ridden up to her thigh and her shoulder strap had slid off to the side. If he awoke and found her in her current state, he would think she was deliberately trying to lure and seduce him.

  She let out a flustered breath and tried to step out of the bed without awakening him. She soon realized that each time she moved, he would capture her again, his thing stabbing into her now very exposed buttocks.

  She closed her eyes, trying to steady the racing pace of her heart. He wasn’t attracted to her. It was simply his morning glory.

  “Anne?”

  He is awake, he is awake! “Uh… yes.”

  He moved, finally releasing her from his embrace. “I’m sorry. It isn’t because I was trying to… It’s just a man thing. It happens…”

  “Yes, yes, I know. It’s a morning erection. I’ve read all about it,” she said quickly, trying to ease the sudden awkwardness between them.

  “Right.” He slid to his edge of the bed. “I’ll go then.”

  She bit her lips, turning away as he walked out of her bedroom. She puffed and fell back on her pillows. She just slept with what could have been the hottest guy on the planet and all she could do was blush over a morning erection? Cuddle, she palmed her forehead. And fucking cuddle.

  He had awoken with her trying to escape from his arms. He knew he was hard. Yes, it was probably his morning erection. But deep inside he knew it was because her buttocks was grinding against it. Her bare thighs rubbed against his and his hand was splayed just over the elastics of her panty. If he had moved his finger an inch further, he would have found her sweet spot, which he knew would have had him coming for sure and embarrassing himself like a newly experienced teenager.

  He staggered out of her bedroom, thankful that she couldn’t see the abnormal pitch in his shorts.

  “Good going, Tanner,” he grumbled as he relieved himself in the toilet. “Getting a stiffy when you could have spent a little longer in bed with her.”

  He glanced at himself in the mirror. He would need to shave off that two day old stubble. They could scratch her soft cheeks. He rubbed his chin. He was hoping. He was actually hoping for more.

  The door bell chimed and he eagerly skipped over to open the door. His cuddle with Anne last night had certainly impressed his mood. He may have slept with beautiful and sexy women, but there was none he could compare wi
th his Anne.

  He opened the door, at first taken aback by the beautiful woman standing before him. And then suddenly it dawned upon him. Lucy? He paled.

  “Who the heck are you?” she snarled.

  He scratched the crown of his head as if he had been caught by the parent of the daughter he was sneaking around with.

  “Lucy?” Anne said, her discomfiture clearly registered on her face.

  “Anne, are you okay?” She brushed past Eric and rushed over to hug her. “I heard about last night. Didn’t I tell you? That William is a bastard. If ever I see him again, I will cut off his balls. Dear God, Anne, are you really okay?”

  “I’m fine, Lucy.” She smiled, trying her best to calm the excited woman. “Have a good look at me? All in one piece.”

  The woman began to snivel as she stroked Anne’s head. “I don’t want you anywhere near that man, you hear? The trouble with you, Anne, is that you don’t listen. I won’t have you near him again. I have full intention of making a complaint to the administration. Who did he think he was messing with? Better still, I will get your dad to do it.”

  “No, not Dad.” Anne panicked. “Please Lucy, it’s all sorted. And Eric did give him a good shiner he’d remember for a long time. I’m sure he will think twice before he ever tries a similar stunt again.”

  “A man like him shouldn’t be playing in something as classy and disciplined as a symphony orchestra. You can’t tell me to not lodge a complaint about someone with such a character.”

  “Lucy, he was drunk. I swear he has otherwise never laid hands on me. He’s always been a very polite gentleman. He was definitely out of character last night. And the only thing that does stand out is that the man can’t handle his liquor.”

  “You just need to give a man a bottle in order to learn about his true character,” Lucy snorted. “And this William sure as hell revealed it after a couple of drinks.”

  “Lucy,-”