It could have been Derek in the closet. He might have come back to help us find our coats. He was strong. He could’ve lifted me up, with his hands on my ass. I’d be against the wall, my skirt up, his tremendous cock probing my hot, wet opening.
I was rubbing my whole mound, thinking of it. A powerful man, unable to resist me, taking over. I shoved my panties to the side and worked my middle finger inside me. I would let him in the same way, my legs wrapped around his waist and my arms clinging to his broad back. I slid in a second finger. I was slick and hot, my muscles tight around my knuckles. I pushed my fingers in and out, the way Derek would have moved at the beginning. He would have kept his thrusts shallow, just to tease me.
The threat of discovery had me hot back then, and just as hot remembering it. My hips were riding that invisible cock, and I slipped my left hand in between my pussy and my right palm. That brought my fingertips right onto my throbbing clit.
“I want to fuck you,” the dream Derek growled. “I want to feel your tight little ass in my hands while I grind you.”
In my mind, Derek had me pushed up against the wall, his own hips thrusting his cock into me like a jackhammer, hard and fast.
I worked my clit just as hard, tiny tight circles with lots of force. I could feel the tension in my body. So close to coming, so close.
I moaned. “Derek.”
“You want it like this? Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then come for me, Van. Come on. Come, baby.”
I came. I threw my head back, and my hips came off the chair. My clit was stiff and quivering, and I kept my fingers pressed tightly to the magic spot. A flood of wetness came from deep inside, and my other hand’s fingers slid out the last inch.
My breathing came back to normal. I puffed up my cheeks and exhaled sharply. A little aftershock went through me, leaving a smile in its wake. The fantasy had taken a little bit of a turn. I felt momentarily guilty for switching from Luke to Derek but not for long. My husband had always said that fantasies were the best free entertainment on earth. Besides, the idea of Derek talking dirty was definitely entertaining.
And hot. I needed to change my panties.
I changed clothes. After washing my hands, I put the scrapbook away. I stood in the living room for a moment. It was past dinner time, but I didn’t feel like cooking. Maybe it was a peanut butter and jelly night.
The doorbell rang. I stiffened, remembering the last time the bell had rung. Derek would have been proud to see me peeking cautiously through the peephole before opening the door, though probably less impressed to see that I hadn’t locked either the front or the back door after he left.
I recognized the blue florist’s truck parked at the curb, but I couldn’t see the delivery person’s face behind the giant bouquet of roses. I paused. How easy would it be for a stalker to steal a truck and pose as a delivery guy?
“Who is it?”
“Vanessa Bingham, if you don’t open the door, I’m gonna lose my grip and you’ll never get the glass out of your welcome mat.”
“Oh, sorry, Joe.” The redheaded proprietor of Flashy Florals was one of the few true locals, a guy who’d never attended the university. Luke had loved sending me flowers, and Joe could probably have found my house blindfolded. I opened the door in a hurry.
“Where can I put these down before I drop them?”
I led him to my TV room. I had a spindly-legged, marble-topped table at the room’s entrance, and I swept it clean of old magazines. “Right here. Who sent these?”
Joe sighed in relief. “Three dozen roses, arranged in a two foot vase filled with those little shiny pebbles. Weighs a freaking ton. But whaddya care about my problems, right? About time you got flowers again, pretty girl like you. Here’s the card. Lane? You know a D. Lane?”
“Derek!” I was stunned. This extravagant display had come from Derek?
“Unless you got another boyfriend with the name D. Lane sending you flowers. Enjoy ’em.”
I ushered him to the door, and this time I locked it. Then I ripped open the envelope, with “From D. Lane” and my name on it in Derek’s perfect draftsman printing.
Van –
I shouldn’t have been rude to you about Boring Boy. You seemed to like it so much when I picked you up off your feet that I thought I should make an attempt at sweeping you off your feet.
Yours,
Der
The tears that didn’t come over the photos were in my eyes now. He was trying so hard to be romantic. I wanted to love him, to reward him for being the sort of man who would make the attempt, just for the sake of my happiness. I knew I was feeling something for him—but was it love?
I turned the DVD player on and listened while I opened some canned chili.
On the screen, Cary Elwes said, “I asked him what was so important for him. ‘True love,’ he replied. And then he spoke of a girl of surpassing beauty and faithfulness. I can only assume he meant you. You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you really are.”
I couldn’t stand it. I paused the movie and called Derek. Luke programmed the speed dial ten years ago. One was voice mail. Two was my cell phone. Three was Luke’s. Four was Derek’s.
“Hello?”
“They’re beautiful.”
His voice was low and soft in my ear. “Not as beautiful as you.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Did you lock the door after you accepted the flowers?”
“Yes.”
“Did you lock the back door?”
I ran over and pushed the button on the knob. “Yes.”
“Is this where I pretend I didn’t just hear the clicking sound?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “So, I have a crazy idea. Let’s go out on Friday night instead of Saturday.”
“I don’t know if I can handle that kind of spontaneity from you,” I said, inhaling the perfume of the roses.
“I can’t wait until Saturday to have our date.”
I felt a rush of desire at the husky way he spoke. I tried to keep my voice calm. “I’m going to see you tomorrow, though, when you fix my computer.”
“That’s business. I’m talking about pleasure. So how about Friday?”
I stammered my agreement and hung up, blushing like a college freshman.
The phone was still in my hand when it rang again. I punched the talk button. “Hello?”
There was no response. I looked across the room and saw 571 on the caller ID.
“All right, who is this?”
Still no answer, just soft breathing in my ear. I’d told the detective I hadn’t had any strange phone calls, but this was the second silent call. That qualified as strange.
“Don’t ever call again, creep.” I hung up the phone and tossed it on the counter.
Later, when I was getting ready for bed, I heard the metallic thunk of a car door slamming. It could have been a truck door, I thought. When I heard the rumble of a diesel engine, I looked out the window, but there was no one there. At least, not in the direction my window was facing.
Thinking about my love life had pushed my worries to the back burner, but between the call and the phantom truck, I was nervous again. I padded downstairs in my socks to check the windows and doors again. Everything was locked up tight, and the curtains were all closed. The whole downstairs smelled like roses, and I was smiling when I climbed back up to my bedroom.
Chapter Six
Late Tuesday morning, I was catching up on my filing when my office phone rang. I jumped and relaxed when I saw the number was local. Not that a call from Northern Virginia would have been unusual, of course. There were lots of graduates up in that part of the state. I mentally smacked myself for being such a worrywart.
“Transcripts,” I said.
“Hey, Vanessa.”
“Hey, Anthony. Ice cream time?”
“You know it. Want to walk over?”
“Where are you?”<
br />
“Out front.”
I looked outside. My office overlooked a big green lawn where students often tossed Frisbees or worked on their tans. Anthony waved from a park bench along the main path. I waved back. “Be right out.”
When I got outside, I punched him on the arm. “Goon, I could have met you there and saved you the drive onto campus.”
“Nah, walking is healthy. Walking with you is fun. Walking behind you is awesome.”
I rolled my eyes. “Creep. Always has to be sexual harassment with you.”
“More like ‘her-ass-meant I was watching, ’” he chortled.
“Hope you didn’t park in the admin lot. Security is really tow-crazy lately.”
Anthony gave me a little smile. “So nice of you to worry.”
“Who’s worrying? It’s not like a tow truck could mess up the Happy Honda.” Anthony had been driving a series of beaters as long as I’d known him. The latest in the collection was only notable for having a rear end composed of duct tape and Bondo.
He made a face. “Happy Honda is dead. I can never, ever get a break. I’m renting until I decide what lucky car is coming off the used lot next.”
We chatted about cars over the five-block walk. Well, Anthony chatted. He had a tendency to ramble, and I was having trouble paying attention. He finally noticed when we were walking back with our ice cream. “Vanessa, you’re a million miles away again. Am I that boring?”
I patted his arm. “No, I’m just out of it. Though maybe you can help me with something.”
“Anything for you, doll.”
“Can you think of anyone from choir who didn’t like me? I mean, really, really didn’t like me.”
“Which choir? Rehearsals start next week for the town choir, by the way. Want me to pick you up?”
“Well, I guess,” I said, pretending to be reluctant. “It’s been fun for fifteen years, we might as well go for sixteen.”
Anthony grinned. “Awesome. Wear flat shoes—”
“So we can be assigned to the same riser,” I finished. “I only forgot that one year.”
His face clouded over. “Well, it sucked. I almost kicked the director’s ass.”
“Let it go, man, that was twelve years ago.”
“It still sucked.”
“Aaaaaaanyway, I didn’t mean town choir. I meant college.”
He looked surprised. “Good gravy, no. Mark got kind of pissed at you that one time, but that’s it.”
We traded meaningful looks. “Right, but he apologized the next day and he never seemed mad again,” I said.
“Why do you ask?”
I told him about the smashed picture and the police coming by, but not about going to Derek’s for the weekend. I still wasn’t sure how I felt about me and Derek, and I wasn’t ready to face any questions. “The picture is definitely from the tour. Couldn’t have been from anything else. That swimsuit wasn’t fit for wiping down a bar by the time the summer ended, and I bought it the day before we left.”
Anthony thought carefully for a few minutes. “I’m still coming up with nothing. Unless…eh, no way.”
“What?”
“Seriously, it’s impossible.”
“Dude, come on.”
“I got together with Mark a while ago. Last August, actually. I was up in Northern Virginia for the National Grocers Convention. He moved up there after we graduated, did you know?”
I nodded, chasing an ice cream drip before it reached my hand.
“Okay, so, we were just talking about old times and stuff, and I mentioned that I talk to you all the time, and he said ‘Is she still a stone-cold cocktease?’ in a really angry voice. I thought that was kind of weird.”
I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. “What? He wasn’t mad about…well, you remember, two days after the argument. He didn’t mention it even once through our whole senior year.”
“I know. I told him, hey, I was the one who got shot down, you shouldn’t still be carrying baggage and stuff. He just shrugged and we changed the subject.”
“That is bizarre.” I started walking again. Anthony jumped to catch up.
“Do you want me to call him or anything?”
“No, no, it’s not worth it. It can’t be him. I feel a little bad that he’s still pissed, though. I wonder….” I trailed off.
“What do you wonder?”
I felt silly even mentioning it, but Anthony and Mark had been so close. Anthony would know if something was off, and he’d give Mark the benefit of the doubt, unlike Derek. “Well, I was thinking the other day about the choir trip. That reminded me of the time Mark came down to visit you a couple years ago. Remember the night when you and Mark came over and had dinner with me and Luke?”
“Yeah?”
“Mark was helping me clear the table, and when we were in the kitchen, he brought up that whole dumb mess. He was acting like he wanted to say something more, but all he actually said was that it wasn’t forgotten and I should be more careful. I thought he was talking about you. Now I’m wondering if maybe, well…”
Anthony had a strange look on his face. His next sentence said it all. “I think Mark liked you, too, back in school.”
“But he never said anything.”
He laughed and shot me a wink. “Hey, it’s hard to speak up sometimes. Especially in college.”
I nodded, thinking about Derek. “Yeah, and afterward, too.”
My brain felt full. Anthony seemed to understand for a change, and instead of making a comment he wiped his mouth with the blue bandana he kept threaded through one of his belt loops. “That was the best batch of pineapple ice cream they’ve made yet.”
“You say that every time.”
“I mean it every time, though, so it’s okay.”
I grinned. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
We walked in companionable silence until we were almost to the building where I worked. I glanced over to see a serious expression on his face. “Now it’s my turn to ask what you’re thinking, Anthony.”
“Do you ever wonder what your life would have been like if you’d made a different choice?”
“What do you mean?”
“Said no instead of yes, or yes instead of no. Dated one person and not another.”
“Not really,” I said slowly. “Luke was the best thing that ever happened to me. Every decision I made before I met him got me to the place where I married him. I wouldn’t want to change that.”
“Even though he’s gone now?”
“Yeah. Better to have loved and lost, blah blah blah. Why?”
He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if I’ve let too much pass me by. Nothing’s changed with this town since we graduated, but nothing’s changed with me, either. I hope this doesn’t sound stupid, but I’m lonely. I’m getting old. They love me at the supermarket, but I’d like someone to be romantic with. Love. Not supermarket love. Oh, I can’t explain.”
I reached out and touched his hand. “I know exactly what you mean.”
“You do?”
“I absolutely do.”
“That helps.” Anthony gave me a tremulous smile. “It really helps.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“I’m going to hang out for a while, get some thoughts straight and make some plans. What else can a guy do?”
“Decide what you want and go for it. That’s what I’d do,” I said.
My old friend gave me a hug. He smelled like fast food, which was no doubt the main part of his diet. I tried not to make a face. “I knew you’d say that, Vanessa. I’ve been trying to do that, but your encouragement will help me stick to my plan. Thanks.”
***
We were at the steps to my building, so I told Anthony I’d see him later. The visitor’s lot must have been full when he arrived, because he headed in the opposite direction.
I ate lunch at my desk and got back to work. The afternoon passed by in a blur. The more I thought about the possibility of Mark bein
g the person behind the smashed photo, the worse I felt. He and Anthony had been like brothers, and he really had been pretty pissed off. But I couldn’t imagine being angry over an incident from college. I couldn’t even imagine being pissed about something from last week. Then again, if he’d also had a crush on me, it was possible that he’d been stewing all these years. I just couldn’t imagine it. Seventeen years was a long time to lie dormant before popping up like some kind of cicada from hell.
Her Kind of Hero Page 6