Wanted

by ML Ross

  “Is that why you broke up?” I can’t help being persistent. I really want to know.

  “Some of it.”

  “Come on, tell me.” I flash her the smile that I usually use to get into girls panties.

  “Okay.” She breathes out a sigh of frustration. “I just felt something was missing. We were together for 6 years.”

  “6 years? How old are you?”

  “I just turned 21 last week. How old are you?”

  “I’m 22. Anyway, back to your boyfriend! 6 years! What happened?”

  “So, I was fifteen when we met. I was totally in love.” She rolls her eyes. “He carried my books around school. We went to the movies. We went to homecoming and prom. He was my first kiss. My first everything. He graduated two years ahead of me and got a job working at his dad’s car dealership. He is a very sales-y type. Charming. We talked about marriage and kids. I just always assumed he was the one I’d be with forever. We had it all planned out.”

  “So? What happened?”

  “Ugh. I don’t know. Something was missing. My Mom and I have had this rule since she got sick. Live your life with no regrets. When I turned 21 and found out my Mom was going to be okay, I decided it was time to make some changes. I didn’t want to be committed and tied down at such a young age. I missed out on a lot of normal things girls my age do and I wanted to experience those things. I’ve never dated anyone but James. I didn’t want any regrets. That’s all.”

  “What do you think was missing?”

  “You are super nosy.”

  “I’m just curious. You don’t have to tell me.” I say pouting.

  “To be completely honest, it was missing passion, okay?” She turns completely red.

  “Passion? Like during sex? So, he didn’t take care of you?”

  “I’m done. So what about you?”

  “Oh come on. Tell me. Maybe I can help?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Don’t tease me. It’s really embarrassing.”

  “I’m not teasing. I’m curious. We’re just two adults having a conversation. What was it? Was he unable to make you come so hard that you were screaming for God?”

  “Oh God.” She squirms in her chair and then bursts out laughing as she realizes what she just said. “Okay, enough about me and my embarrassing sex life, what’s your story?”

  “Okay, I’ll give you a break. I told you about my family. I had a hard time when my parents died. Sixteen is a tough age. I partied a lot. I had a lot of sex with a lot of different girls. It was just sex though. No passion.” I wink at her letting her know that she and I have an understanding. “Over the last year or so, I slowed down with the girls and then, Kim and I…..”

  We hear Vanessa’s name on the TV and we both jump up and run over to watch. A newscaster is standing outside of a building on the Western Colorado University campus. Hundreds of students are all standing behind her. “The investigators in the case involving the disappearance of Vanessa Cartwright believe her disappearance is linked to the murders of Sophie Carsen and Mia Knoll last year and the recent attack of Kim Sawyer, another student here at Western. Vanessa’s car was found pushed off the side of the road a few miles from campus on December 23rd. Her belongings still inside. Her car was totaled which leaves police to believe she was taken from the scene and the crash may have been deliberate. Kim Sawyer issued a statement last month stating that she was attacked by her best friend, Ryan Jenson. Ryan has been missing since Kim Sawyer’s battered body was discovered in a wooden area not far from campus on November 21st. Police believe all of these cases are connected and Ryan Jenson is the main suspect. He may be armed and dangerous. If you have seen Ryan Jenson or may know of his whereabouts, please contact the number on your screen. With us now is the mother of Vanessa Cartwright.”

  “If you’re out there watching and you have Vanessa….ppplleeasse let her come home. Please. I beg you.” Vanessa’s Mom turns her face into her husband’s shoulder and he just holds her staring at the ground. Vanessa is standing next to me with her hand over her mouth like she might get sick. Her eyes are filling with tears. I want to hold her and comfort her but it’s my fault she’s here and not with her family. I doubt she wants me to touch her. She takes off and runs into the bedroom slamming the door behind her.

  I open the door and poke my head in and she’s laying on her belly with her face buried into the pillow. Her body is shaking with sobs. I’m not sure what to do for her. I take my chances and sit next to her on the bed. I reach out to touch her and hesitate a moment before I decide that right now, I’m the only one she has and I want to be there for her. I touch her back with my hand and she doesn’t flinch. I rub softly in circles until her cries soften.

  “Vanessa?”

  “Please leave me alone!”

  “Please, listen to me. I have an idea. It’s not the greatest idea but can you please look at me?” She sits up and wipes the tears from her eyes. “Write your Mom a note telling her you’re okay. The police can’t track a letter but your Mom will know you’re okay. We’ll figure this out and you’ll be home soon. I promise. At least your Mom won’t think the worst.”

  She nods her head. “Okay. I just want her to know I’m okay.”

  “Come here.” I reach my arms towards her wanting to hold her to me.

  Neither of us move and there is an awkward silence but then she leans forward and wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder. She smells good, not all Old Spice but something else. Her body is warm against me. I squeeze my arms around her and then place a kiss on her shoulder. We remain in an embrace for quite a while.

  “Do you want to write that letter?”

  “Yes.” She breathes out.

  We sit at the table together. I trust she won’t do something stupid but I watch her anyway.

  Mom,

  I’m not hurt. I’m safe. I promise I’ll be home soon.

  I love you,

  Vanessa

  “Is that okay?” She asks.

  I just nod. “When we go out tomorrow, I’ll put it in the mail.” I have to distract both of us from this mess. It is Christmas Day and I think we need to make the best of it. “So, I was thinking maybe we could cook some popcorn and string it on the tree. What do you think?”

  “Okay, I’m gonna take a shower first. Can I borrow another t-shirt?”

  “No problem.” I answer her calmly but the thought of her in the shower again, knowing exactly what she looks like nude with water dripping from her body, is making me stiff again. I need a fucking release and my hand isn’t doing the job anymore. She needs her own shirts soon.

  While Vanessa’s in the shower, I decide to get started on the popcorn. She isn’t in there long before I hear the door open. I turn to her and do a double-take. She’s not wearing pants! Fuck! Her hair is dripping wet making the front of my t-shirt cling to her tits. The cold air is stiffening her nipples which I can plainly see through the shirt. I am so wound up, I actually feel angry.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” I ask irritably, my eyes drifting to her bare legs.

  “What? It’s like a dress and your sweatpants were really hard to keep on. Is there a problem?”

  “No.” I turn back around to discover the popcorn is burned. Shit. I start all over again but first I have to adjust my junk. Christ! I really just want to grab her and kiss the hell out of her pink and puffy lips. They’re driving me crazy. I start to imagine that her pussy is just as pink and swollen and I want to taste it so bad. I might just have to turn myself in because this is just the worst kind of torture. I think about prison and my dick goes limp so I grab the popcorn, now that it feels safe to sit next to the girl and string some fucking popcorn.

  “Okay, so here’s the popcorn.” I set the bowl on the floor. “I found some string and some sewing needles. You ready?” I look her way, but not directly at her because I’m afraid her nipples are still calling my name.

  “Ryan? Where did you sleep last night?”r />
  “In that chair, why?”

  She looks me over and must come to the conclusion that I’m just not sleeping because the chair is pretty small and well, I’m not. She looks concerned.

  “I didn’t even realize. I’m sorry. You can have the bed. I can sleep in the chair.”

  “No way! You need to heal and I am perfectly fine.”

  She stares off in deep thought and I watch as the expression on her face turns into a look of desire and a pink hue spreads over it. I wonder what she’s thinking about but I don’t want her to be embarrassed so I concentrate on stringing my popcorn. My Mom and I used to do this when I was little. We would make all the stuff for the tree every year. Every year we’d think of something different. The last Christmas I celebrated was 7 years ago. I was fifteen. The two years I spent in foster care, I didn’t care about Christmas. I didn’t care about anything. Christmas was like any other day. I was probably drunk, passed out on someone’s couch. When I got my studio apartment at Western, I just never bothered with a tree or anything. I actually feel happy that Vanessa is here and that we are doing this together.

  She sits cross-legged on the floor next to me and every once in a while our hands touch in the bowl of popcorn. I want to hold her hand. I want to do more than hold her hand but she might shoot me if I do what I really want to do to her. Once all the popcorn is strung, we hang it on the tree. She smiles at me as we stand next to each other admiring our work.

  “Do you want me to start a fire?” It’s cold in the cabin, so we always need a fire going to keep it warm.

  “Sure!”

  “I just need to see if Gramps has more firewood out back. Um, do you want to come with me?” She looks down at her bare legs and then gives me a strange look. Yes, I asked her to come with me because I still think she will run. Just because she’s tolerating being held captive doesn’t mean she isn’t evaluating every escape option in her head. I still worry she will find that gun and force me to take her home.

  “I’m not going anywhere Ryan.”

  I study her face and nod my head. “I’ll be right back.”

  I gather a bunch of wood from the back of the cabin where Gramps stored it. When I come back in, Vanessa’s settled in the chair. I’m very curious about this boyfriend of hers. The lack of passion. I wonder what her preferences are. Does she make a lot of noise? Does she like to be on top? Is she willing to try new things? I’m getting a little heated up just thinking about it. The fire isn’t helping. “So tell me more about this boyfriend.”

  “Ex.”

  “Ex. You were together for a long time. Do you still love him?”

  “I love him but I’m not in love with him.”

  “Right, because something was missing. Passion. He didn’t “take care of you” and you decided it was time to “take care of” yourself?”

  “Shut up.” She says as she looks away from me.

  She obviously doesn’t want to talk about this kind of stuff so I don’t push. I’m just curious. I’ve fucked a lot of girls. I never felt anything for any of them. Kim and I had been best friends until we took our relationship to the next step. I have feelings for her. I thought I loved her but when we took that step, it was missing something too…passion? Sometimes I think Vanessa was really dropped out of Heaven just for me. For the short time she’s been here, I feel something for her that I never felt before.

  Chapter 8 - Vanessa

  “Is there a radio in this place?”

  “Yeah. In the kitchen. Only gets a couple stations though.”

  “It’s fine. Do you mind if I look around the kitchen. Maybe I can find something to make for dinner, other than macaroni and cheese.”

  “Go for it.”

  I find the radio and it’s tuned into the only radio station this place seems to get without static. It’s a local pop station. It’s better than nothing. I turn it up pretty loud and dance around the kitchen looking in the cupboards. I find a box of pasta and a can of tomatoes. All I need is some olive oil and some seasoning. Bingo. He has bread in the freezer so I defrost some on the counter. I find a pot for the pasta and start boiling the water. When the radio plays Justin Timberlake’s Not A Bad Thing, I can’t help but to dance. The song ends and I spin around to find Ryan watching me.

  “You’re a good dancer.” He says standing there with his arms flexed above his head, his palms flat on the low ceiling. He is giant. His t-shirt is slightly lifted, teasing me with only a glimpse of that muscled V that disappears under his gray drawstring sweats that are hanging off his hips. I have to catch my breath.

  “Thanks. I grew up dancing.”

  “I can’t dance at all.”

  “Sure you can, come here.” I hold out my hand to him.

  “Nah.”

  “Ryan! Come over here and dance with me.”

  He shakes his head in annoyance but shuffles over to me. God, he is so damn sexy. My pussy is pulsating at just the thought of those strong hands touching my body. I grab his hands and place them both on my hips and then I put my arms around his neck. I sway us side to side until we find a groove. The fuck he can’t dance! Holy hell, with his knee slightly bent between my legs he pulls me against his body. I can feel how turned on he is. His hard length presses against my belly as he moves his body with mine. He tightens his grip on my hips and I can hear his heartbeat thumping. I imagine him moving his hands down my hips, then squeezing my ass and then exploring between my legs where my panties are now soaked. Katy Perry’s Unconditionally starts to play on the radio. Our bodies are heating up as the fire warms the small space. I want him to touch me so bad. I tighten my arms around his neck. Our bodies pressed together perfectly with no air between. We’re practically cheek to cheek as I dance on my tip toes. I hear is rapid breathing and then he turns his head slightly and his lips graze my cheek and then down my neck. I tilt my head to stretch my neck, giving him permission. His wet, full lips make my heart beat like crazy. I can feel his warm breath blow the tiny hairs at my nape. I close my eyes as he pulls the soft flesh from my neck into his mouth and gently sucks. My body buzzes from the sensation. Just then, I hear the boiling water from the pot on the stove splash onto the flames with a loud sizzle.

  “Shit!” I break away from him and turn the burner off. Once I get the flood under control and the water back to a strolling boil, I add the noodles. I take a few breaths trying to calm down before I even dare try to form words. “I hope you like pasta. That’s all there is.” I throw over my shoulder. As I glance at him over my shoulder, I catch him adjusting himself. I turn back around and smile to myself. My body suddenly craves his touch.

  “I’ll eat anything.” And wouldn’t you know it, my face starts to burn. I know its bright red. What the hell is wrong with me?

  I hear him chuckle behind me and then he starts to fidget with the fire again. The noodles only take 8 minutes. I mix them with the can of tomatoes, a little olive oil, salt, pepper and a dash of garlic. I put some bread in a bowl, set the table and we eat. As we eat in awkward silence, I think about where things might have gone just now. I don’t know anything about him or why he is wanted for murder and I was just about to trust him with my body.

  “Ryan, we need to talk about what happened. Why would your girlfriend say you attacked her?”

  “I have no fucking idea.” He says quietly, shaking his head while twirling the pasta on his fork. “We’ve known each other for about 6 years. We met right before my parents died. We went to high school together. Her father was abusive and her mother was an alcoholic. She had it rough. After my parents died, she was just there for me. We had each other’s backs. We became best friends. We told each other everything. Our relationship started to develop into something more when we started college but I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I had feelings for her but I had never been in a committed relationship and I was afraid I’d fuck it up and hurt her. That night before the party, we had a couple of drinks and things happened between us. I think we both freaked o
ut a little afterwards, scared that it would change things, so we mutually agreed that it wouldn’t happen again. Our friendship was more important. We went to the party together. It was just next door to my studio apartment. We did this all the time. We would go together but then go our separate ways and usually we would hook up, before things started to change between us. Anyway, we would always meet up at my apartment later. She would stay at my place a lot because she couldn’t stand her roommate at her dorm. We got to the party about 9. Around 10, I didn’t see her anywhere. I assumed she had decided to move on and hooked up with some guy so I left. Things were weird between us, ya know? She never came to my apartment that night. It’s not the first time she decided not to show up and I figured she just needed space. I didn’t think twice about it. The next morning, I got a call from a mutual friend of ours. He told me that she was found carved up in the woods that morning and that she told her parents it was me. She was in the hospital when I called her and she refused to talk to me. I knew I was in trouble so I called Landon, my foster brother, and he gave me the keys to this place. Anyway, I packed a bag and I was gone.” He pauses rubbing his hands over his face. “I didn’t fucking touch her like that. The only thing I can come up with is maybe she was drugged or something. It kills me that she thinks I did that to her. It makes me fucking sick.” I can see the emotion take over his face and his eyes become glassy.

  “So, she seemed fine after you guys had sex? You went to the party together like it never happened? She wasn’t mad at you? She didn’t, maybe, change her mind and things went too far?”

  “No! I swear. It wasn’t like that. We satisfied a need we both had and moved on. Things were fine. We went to the party, had a beer together and then we separated like always.”

  “What about those other girls? Did you know them?”

  He looks away from me gathering his thoughts and then looks back at me. “I knew them. I had sex with both of them. On the nights they each went missing. We were at the same parties. Similar story. I went with Kim. We separated. I hooked up. I left. Kim met me back at my place later that night. The next morning, we heard about the attacks. I told Kim that I hooked up with them but we never told the police or anyone else. She kept my secret. She was my alibi. Until now. I didn’t fucking hurt them and I certainly didn’t murder them!”