by Cat Gardiner
“You really think I’m special?” she asked.
“I do. You’re like no other woman I have ever met before. You’ve bewitched me.”
“Well, then … on your arm I’ll also be the luckiest girl in the room. Yes, I’d love to be your date.”
Elizabeth wantonly guided his mouth toward hers, kissing him with fervent, seductive suggestion. Slow and sensually deliberate, her tongue teased his.
Under the blanket, Darcy’s left hand slid below her coat, gently pulling the zipper to her skirt upward, exposing her silky thigh and garter strap to his eager hand. Tracing an invisible line from her lips to ear, he placed slow kisses on her now heated cheek. When his lips reached their sought after destination, his tongue traced the delicate curve of her ear.
He whispered, the warmth of his breath tickling her, “Can I take you back to my place?”
She moaned. “Hmm … I don’t do one night stands, Will.”
“Neither do I. I never said anything about it being only one night.” He kissed that sensitive place behind her ear.
“Mmm … and what about days?”
“As many days as you want. You can have all my days and nights.” He kissed her again, murmuring afterward, “Stay with me tonight.”
She ran her index finger over his soft, warm lips and playfully queried, “Will you make me pancakes in the morning?”
“I’ll do better than that. I’ll make you pancakes and feed them to you in bed – naked.”
Elizabeth smiled brightly. “You and pancakes? How can a girl refuse that offer?”
Liz’s Blog Post Here
Chapter Nineteen – Friday, December 20
5 Days Until Christmas
The last Friday before Christmas was usually a festive day of office parties and holiday gatherings but given the blanket of white snow coating the city this year, it was bound to be messy as well.
The sun wasn’t up yet, but Elizabeth’s internal alarm clock overrode her splitting headache and nauseous hangover. Five thirty was not a welcome time for her eyes to snap open with the realization that a dead weight encircled her naked waist like a vice grip. Momentarily stunned, the dense fog of sleep still enveloped her, as an inner reality attempted to put the pieces together. She hesitated to look over at the man lightly snoring beside her when she breathed in. Whoever was draped around her smelled darn good in the morning.
Her mouth felt like cotton, her eyeballs hurt from sleeping with her contacts, and the silky bed linen was strangely adhered to her breast, pulling uncomfortably at the tender skin. She slowly rotated her head left and saw Darcy fast asleep, sharing the king-sized pillow and looking so serenely beautiful. His unkempt hair stuck up every which way, causing her to wonder what her mess of hair was doing if his looked like that. Horrified, she thought of the makeup she still wore. Oh, that’s gotta’ be some pretty frightening sight. Raccoon eyes lying next to Mr. Flawless December. Damn!
In the darkness, she lay still trying to focus on what exactly happened the night before. How exactly did she come to be lying next to Darcy? The last thing she remembered was catching a snowflake on her tongue when they exited Madison Square Garden. Oh yeah, then there was a carriage ride – wasn’t there? Maybe not, she couldn’t remember but hoped to God it would all come back to her after her first triple espresso. Did they even make such a thing? They would for her! They had damn well better!
She ran her hand over her forehead and eyes, hoping to wipe away the fog of sleep. Focus … Focus!
What was clear was the fact that both she and Darcy were naked, and damn if her sex wasn’t tender. No doubt, either they had sex multiple times, or the man was hung like that fire hose he told her about. She wished she could at least remember that.
Slowly, as though pained, she turned her head back to the right to look at the nightstand. A perusal of the items there might shed a glimmer of light on the sins of the night before. She committed them to memory in the hope that the details would come forth. Two wine glasses, one half full, and the empty bottle rested on its side about to roll off the tabletop. There were three candy canes, one unwrapped and clearly sucked on and a half empty bottle of baby oil. Oh, and lest she forget the empty condom box along with THREE used condom wrappers.
Elizabeth’s mind screamed, Oh God – they had been at it all night long. Was it good? Apparently so if he kept coming back for more. Oh God, please let me remember. No, wait … Do I want to remember that?
Attempting to slide out of bed proved difficult, causing Darcy to unconsciously moan in protest. His strong arm tightened around her waist. Draping a leg over the side of the bed, she shifted until finally he released his hold, grabbing the pillow as she sat up.
Bedraggled, she sat at the edge of the bed with the bed linen still stuck to her left breast. In her frustration and confusion, she tore it away like a Band-Aid and winched from the pain. The heady smell of Christmas assaulted her, and she touched her fingers to her breast, feeling stickiness and tiny, bitty pieces of something still clinging to her nipple.
After carefully sniffing her fingers, she licked one. Peppermint. Oh God, the candy canes. Now she remembered. Oh God. For a few seconds she wondered if the bed sheet was stuck to Darcy’s penis as well. His penis, oh yes, now she remembered - he was hung like that fire hose.
What on earth was I thinking having a one night stand with Darcy?
Placing one foot in front of the other with deliberate silent steps, Elizabeth followed the trail to her clothing, beginning with her underwear. Her lace thong rested at the foot of the bed on the plush carpet, and she discovered her bra in the living room next to the still lit Christmas tree, right beside another condom wrapper. She pushed aside the reality of it being number four.
Stopping to focus her bleary eyes, she reflected for just a moment on the holiday decorations. What a pretty tree. She turned to the mantle hooking her bra, indulging her natural curiosity to explore the beautiful winterscape above the fireplace adorned with sterling reindeer, snow globes and interspersed photographs of Will and Georgiana.
Georgiana?!
Horror-stricken, she screamed to herself, Oh, my God! Georgie is Darcy’s sister! He’s the brother. She’s the sister! The audition! I told her stuff! She’s reading and commenting on my blog!
In a mad dash around the living room and into the kitchen – a beautiful gourmet kitchen that she failed to notice, Elizabeth finally found her purse and her cell phone. She double backed to the living room, picking up the remainder of her scattered clothes. A trembling thumb pressed Charlotte’s speed dial as she quickly ran into the nearest room with a door she could shut. It was, apparently, Darcy’s office.
Charlotte greeted the call less than enthusiastically, “When I said to call me, I didn’t mean at the ass-crack of dawn.”
Elizabeth paced the dark room, stopping long enough to put on her skirt. Forcefully whispering into the phone and crying as though hyperventilating, “Oh my God, Char. Oh my God, Char. Oh my…”
“Stop saying that and speak. I want the details of your hot sex with Mr. December.”
Perched half-dressed on the office chair at Darcy’s computer desk, she leaned forward, resting her head in her hand. “I’m pretty sure we had sex. I don’t remember but there were four condom wrappers and bits of candy cane stuck to the girls.”
Charlotte yawned. “That’s original. I’ll have to suggest that to Preppy. You know how I love Christmas candy. Gives whole new meaning and uses to Turkish delight and chocolate covered cherries.”
“Stop it and listen to me. Wait a minute how did you know that we had sex?”
“You blogged about it. It must have been about two this morning. Don’t you remember? It was brief, but you were obviously happy and totally drunk. I do believe you said and I quote, ‘I think I’m in love.’ It was very funny. By the way, what is a charged hose?”
“Oh my God!”
“Stop saying that, Lizzy. Or should I say Lucky Lizzy? How about Lizzy got Lucky?”
Elizabeth hissed, “Very funny! You don’t understand. He’s the brother.”
As she spoke to Charlotte, the curious creature in her couldn’t resist reading some notes Darcy had jotted on a legal sized pad beside his laptop. She flipped on the green banker’s lamp. There before her eyes appeared two columns listing every one of her likes and dislikes. Normally, the list lover in her would admire such efficiency but not when she was the subject and the title was the name of her blog!
“Whose brother?” Charlotte inquired although she knew the answer.
“Georgie’s brot …”
“Lizzy?”
Below the list was written his reminder: Google Plus Login: Caveman, Password: Elizabeth.
“Oh. My. God! He’s ‘Caveman’!”
Below that, penned in a haphazard notation, read: ‘Janie B. (Bennet?) Playboy?’
Silence. Elizabeth remembered a snippet of conversation from their erotic elevator interlude up to his apartment the night before.
He kissed her thigh then looked up at her. “No arrow-shaped birthmark.”
“No that designation belongs to Jane alone, but it appears that you already know that. Will, you don’t need an arrow to tell you where I want your tongue.”
Oh God! her mind screamed. I encouraged him to do that? In an elevator? He knows about Jane and I confirmed it!
“Lizzy?” Charlotte asked again.
“What a Manipulative. Rat. Bastard! I’ve been such a fool. Such a stupid, stupid fool to think he really liked me for me and not for his own selfish ego. Georgiana lied to me – used me to help Darcy. He’s been reading my blog and taking notes AND leaving comments as this Caveman guy. He’s followed every, single thing I said about him and has used everything for his own egotistical, arrogant purpose. Mr. Grinch, the rose, A Christmas Story, and the Chardonnay, the blog songs, and the carriage ride. Oh my God, the carriage ride. All so he can get me in the sack! Just another drunk, cheap conquest to fuel his monstrous ego. He makes your brother look like a saint!”
“No! He’s not like that. It’s not like that!”
Elizabeth’s blood boiled in anger. “Yes it is. I feel so used! To make matters worse he knows about Jane!” she carelessly exclaimed, hurriedly zipping up her suit jacket then bending to buckle her shoes to make an immediate departure from the scene of the crime.
“Listen to me. He wanted to woo you, that’s all. You were so difficult to get to know, and he wanted to know more about you to make your date special. Was it special?”
“Who the fuck knows! All I know is my cooch hurts from too much sex and I have peppermint stuck to my tits.”
Charlotte tsked. “Listen to you … one night of drunken sex and you’re already cursing like a sailor. Stop it. It doesn’t become you. As for Jane, even I know about Janie B. and her centerfold, so that’s no great discovery on his part.”
“How the hell do you know about Jane? No one knows about that! Not even her fiancé!”
“I’m a photographer and my brother is an uber-horny photographer who slept with her like five years ago. Did you really think no one was going to find out about her Playboy spread?”
“John WHAT?!”
“Ooops …”
She was now at the point of emotionally shutting down. It was the only way to cope. “I have to get out of here. I’ll call you later.” A hard press to the phone disconnected the call followed by a shove of her garter belt and stockings into her purse. She turned off the lamp, grabbed her coat, and bolted from the apartment.
At five forty-five AM with hair a mess, last night’s makeup, and bare legs, Elizabeth stood in the snow at the curb in front of Darcy’s building, hailing a taxicab to her apartment while desperately fighting the urge to cry. Her world was spinning out of control, and she didn’t know what upset her more: Darcy’s deceit, Georgiana’s betrayal, Charlotte’s defense of him, Jane’s infamous notoriety and disloyalty or her own ignorance of John and Jane’s affair.
The rising sun streamed through the narrow alley between buildings, into the uncovered window of Darcy’s master suite. It was seven-thirty in the morning when the glorious rays hit the bed, blinding him awake. He stretched, remembered and smiled. Pancakes and Elizabeth – naked. Ah, what a thought to wake up with. The promise of a new beginning on a day that had long held death in its grasp. Today was the first day of his new life.
Rotating his head to the right, he felt a bit crestfallen by the empty bed staring back at him. Snuggling with her was first and foremost in his mind, but she was up already. He grabbed her pillow, bringing it to his nose, smelling the honeysuckle scent she left upon the cool linen.
What a night. What an incredible night. She said she loved him. Of course, she was drunk and it was in the midst of his oiling her breasts and suckling her nipples, but she said it, and his heart soared in the remembrance of it.
Details of the previous night flashed before Darcy’s eyes: making love beside the Christmas tree, the tenderness, the passionate violence, and at times the pure playfulness. Elizabeth was a vixen and a kitten wrapped up in one. Further, she was insatiable. Just when he thought she was ready to sleep nestled snuggly in his arms with their legs entwined, she wanted him again, which he gladly accommodated.
Making love to her was, in truth, the only time he had been able to reach more than two arousals in the span of three hours when inebriated. They made love five times last night. Five incredible times - she did that to him. The last time was passionately enjoyed with their mutually acknowledged disregard for the empty box of condoms. It was unavoidable, really. When awakened at three in the morning by finding her perfectly situated on his fully loaded fire hose for round number five, he wasn’t about to object in the least. The mere memory of Elizabeth running her hand through her hair while erotically riding him was worth the carelessness. He hadn’t ever felt the freedom of going condom-commando before and to feel her wrapped and clenching around him was overwhelming. Needless to say, he didn’t last very long. Afterward, she curled into his body, purring like a contented kitten drifting into sleep, murmuring that she’s been in love with him all along.
Hugging the pillow to his chest, Darcy sheepishly smiled. He was completely besotted and famished for her. Fully aroused and wanting breakfast – not pancakes - he called out, “Liz?”
After a couple of minutes with no reply, he wrapped a previously tossed towel around his waist and went in search of her. First stop, the master bath where he knocked on the door. “Baby, are you in there? Do you want some breakfast? Remember, pancakes in bed?”
Long seconds passed, and he couldn’t help the sudden panic slowly creeping in. Funny, he remembered dropping her thong at the foot of the bed last night, and now it was gone.
Walking down the hallway into the living room, he called out a little more forcefully, “Liz? Where are you?”
He wasn’t that drunk last night not to remember tossing her bra beside Georgiana’s gifts under the tree. The panic slightly elevated when he noticed her tossed clothes were gone. Darcy bolted into the kitchen. “Liz?”
After searching the entire apartment, ending in his office, he sat at his desk, resting his elbows on his knees as reality sunk in. Although, devastated that she had left, he chose to rationalize that she must have left for work. Certainly, after the incredible night they had together, there could be no other reason for her leaving without a good-bye.
The pad to his right side garnered his attention, and he couldn’t ignore the hair standing up on the back of his neck when he speculated for a split-second that perhaps his list.
Four hours later, Darcy, Rick and Georgiana stood in the small, gated alcove family mausoleum in Westchester County’s Ferncliff Cemetery. Cold, stark, white marble surrounded an arched, oblong stained glass depiction of the Risen Lord. Below the colorful reflection was an ornamental fireplace where a photograph of Anne and George Darcy sat beside a perpetual candle. The silence was eerily deafening until the passing click clack of high he
els or squishing of rubber boots was occasionally heard upon the marble flooring of the mausoleum’s poinsettia-lined hallways.
The three ‘siblings’ remained silent while praying or remembering.
Georgiana bent and placed a large bouquet of roses into the standard funeral home vase, resting on the floor. She couldn’t stop the flow of tears trickling down her face. Her parents left her at an age when she needed them most and she never truly stopped needing them. Not even Will or Anne could take the place of the confidences she needed to share with a mother.
Rick fidgeted. He had so much to say to his aunt and uncle, yet the words of his heart were stifled. Often, he had wondered if divorce law had made him cold but then he met Charlotte. Love changes a man. As the older of the two boys, his personal promise to care for Darcy and protect him from heartache and sorrow had been especially difficult. He was finally making headway this year – this incredible Christmas, but maybe it was for naught. Maybe he had pushed too hard, been too devious, although with the best of intentions, but maybe he had inadvertently set Darcy up for failure and heartache. The guilt Rick felt seemed immeasurable.
Darcy’s visit to the mausoleum was unprecedented. It was the first visit he allowed his heart to take since his parents’ death in 2005. The sorrow and guilt had never dissipated, the redemption never enough. He could never save enough lives or put out enough fires to ever forgive himself for drinking, carousing and whoring while his parents burned alive.