Complicated Matters

by Unknown

  She groaned.

  Something blocked him.

  She made whimpering sounds.

  He lay her down on the cold, hard surface. “Wrap your legs around my waist. It’ll be easier on you.” Thankful for extra lubricated condoms, he plunged into her as hard as he could.

  “Heath,” she cried.

  “I’m sorry, Farrah.” He was helpless to do anything but work himself into a sweaty lather.

  She was so tight and perfect. Tears streamed from her eyes.

  He reveled in her perfection. His dick had a mind of its own. If anything it got harder inside of her. She felt so good on him.

  “Heath.”

  “Please don’t ask me to stop.” Against his will he became rougher. He didn’t want to hurt her. He hoped for a quick release. A few more thrusts and he found it.

  He kissed away her tears. “I wish it could have been better for you.”

  She caressed the side of his face. “It was perfect.”

  Knowing there was a shower with hot and cold running water, he carried her the short distance to the cabin.

  He stood her on the floor and adjusted the water. “Let me wash you.”

  She looked down. “I’ll be okay by myself.”

  He pulled back the shower curtain. “This isn’t only for you.”

  She stepped inside the stall and held out her hand.

  Taylor swallowed hard as the shower rained down upon her beautiful body. He stepped under the water and grabbed the shower gel. “Let me wash you.”

  She wrapped her long fingers around his wrist. “Heath.”

  He touched her lips with his finger tips. “You asked me to teach you how to love. This is all part of it.”

  She let him go.

  He smoothed the gel all over her body making her slick.

  She took the bottle and did the same to him.

  The feel of his body under her touch, and the feel of her body under his touch drove him insane.

  The water rinsed their skin, but he didn’t want to stop touching her. He didn’t want her to stop touching him.

  The water ran cold forcing them out of the shower. They cuddled up close to each other under the covers on the king-sized bed.

  “Is this all part of making love?”

  Her breasts were so firm against his bare skin. “The best part.” He slipped down and started sucking them. Desire overpowered him, but he wanted to give her joy without pain. If he took her again this soon he’d hurt her. He threw the covers to one side and looked at her. “You are so beautiful.”

  She swallowed hard. “Heath.”

  “It’s going to be different this time.” He kissed his way down her body listening for sounds signaling her preference of being kissed on one spot more than another. He memorized every groan and shortness of breath. The next time they made love there was going to be nothing but pleasure in it for her.

  She raised her hips when he licked the lips of her vagina.

  “Not yet, my love.” He smiled. “Sweet agony is part of the pleasure.” He kissed the inside of her thigh and worked his way down her leg.

  “Stop it.” She kicked when he kissed the bottom of her foot. “I’m ticklish.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  He kissed his way up her other leg until he came back to her vagina.

  She moaned when he touched the inside of her with his tongue. That made him want to please her more. He lifted her legs and bent her knees. Sticking his fingers inside her, he sucked her clit. She tasted so good. Sweet fruit ripe for the picking. And he was the man lucky enough to enjoy her.

  *

  He woke up wanting to love her again, but she was sleeping so peacefully he didn’t have the heart to wake her. He settled for lying next to her.

  She started kissing his chest as she slept. She mumbled something in her sleep and placed his hand on her breast.

  How he wished she’d wake up.

  She wouldn’t come out of her slumber.

  He kissed her on the lips.

  Her eyelashes fluttered as she awakened. “What’s going on?”

  “You were dreaming.”

  She pressed her body against his. “What was I dreaming about?”

  “I don’t know.” He covered them with a blanket and laid his arm over her. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “It’s not important. Can we just lay here?”

  “I think that could be arranged.” He pressed his body hard against hers. His contentment was short lived. It started with another kiss on the lips.

  His pulse raced when she kissed his chest.

  He kneaded her breasts. Her nipples hardened under his touch.

  She pressed her hips against his.

  He tangled his fingers in her long hair and covered her mouth with his.

  She tasted like peppermint.

  He stabbed his tongue inside her mouth. “Hmm.” He felt her rough hands exploring his back. He slipped his hands down her backside. Her ass was round and firm. He wanted to feel the warmth and moistness between her legs. “Everything is perfect.”

  Lianna’s locket glistened on his chest.

  “It was.” Farrah got up. “I should get dressed.”

  He reached out for her. “What’s wrong?”

  She fingered the locket. “I won’t play second fiddle to a ghost.” She headed for the door of the cabin.

  “Wait, Farrah.” He tried following her. For someone who couldn’t out run him on the basketball court, she certainly had no problems getting around in the woods. By the time he caught up with her she was dressed and sitting on a stump crying. He knelt down and put his arms around her. “Sweetheart, tell me what I did wrong.”

  “I thought…” She touched his locket again. “Never mind what I thought. How am I supposed to compete with a memory?”

  “I took it off before I picked you up, and put it back on while you were asleep. It’s a habit.”

  “That’s because she’s still a part of you.” Farrah closed her eyes for a few seconds and sniffled. “Please, take me home.” She ran back to the clearing.

  Taylor caught up with her. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she cried behind the shield of the motorcycle helmet. “I was the idiot who thought I could be woman enough for you.”

  “You are.” It was useless trying to convince her otherwise, so he packed up before getting on his bike.

  The ride back to her place wasn’t nearly as pleasurable as it was to the campsite. He parked at the end of her parents’ driveway. “What can I do to convince you putting the locket back on was just a stupid mistake on my part?”

  She got off his old Harley and tossed him his helmet. “Call me when you get ready for a warm body instead of a cold picture.”

  Chapter 32

  It started raining. Taylor’s house was as empty as his heart. All he wanted was to hold Farrah. To feel her warm body against his skin. “How did it all go so wrong?”

  What are you bitching about, Taylor? He grabbed the bottle of Jack Daniels’ he kept stashed under his kitchen sink and took a few swallows. What were you expecting, a house full of blonde headed girls and dark haired boys? Hell, consider yourself lucky. Come January, you can get out of here with a clean conscience.

  He went to bed. Lianna’s picture sat on the nightstand. He touched the side of the bed where Farrah once laid. He could have sworn he still smelled the faint scent of her perfume. His gun was holstered and hanging on his bedpost.

  What do I really have? A memory, a bottle, and a way out. A memory, a bottle, and a way out. The words ran through his head as if being sung by a million tiny demons. A memory, a bottle, and a way out.

  The demons continued to sing even as he got into his truck and drove to the swamp where Morales and Stevenson were murdered. The picture, the bottle, and his gun lay on his passengers seat.

  The rain came down harder. The road was barely visible. With any luck at all, he’d crash into a tree and wouldn’t have to worry a
bout it anymore.

  He went into the swamp as far as the road would allow. He picked up the picture. Tears fell on Lianna’s face. “Well, Baby, you always said nothing would keep us apart. I guess you’re right.” He turned the bottle up to his head. Whiskey drizzled out the corners of his mouth and burned his throat as he set the picture on his dashboard.

  His pistol taunted him from the passenger’s seat. It glistened, even as the rain came down.

  The demons were screaming inside his head again.

  Taylor picked up the weapon. He studied its deadly beauty. It felt cold and hard as he pressed it against his face. He laughed as he thought about tomorrow’s headline: Local Sheriff Losses Head.

  He was about to put the pistol in his mouth when he heard Farrah’s voice inside his head. “Living is the hard part.”

  What the hell? Taylor shook his head and took a few more gulps from the bottle.

  “Living is the hard part.” Farrah said that same thing to him the night she woke him from his nightmare about Lianna. God, that seemed like such a long time ago.

  His jacket smelled of Farrah’s perfume. He threw it at his windshield. His iPod blasted Gloria Estefan.

  The demons were chanting and Farrah was preaching to him. The rain was coming down in sheets and pounding hard against his truck. Gloria Estefan wouldn’t stop singing that sappy love song.

  Taylor got out of the vehicle. He looked up at the sky.

  The rain stung his face. He felt like he was drowning.

  The demons and Farrah started arguing with him again. “Aaahhhhh!” He threw the bottle at a tree smashing it to bits. He snatched Lianna’s locket from his neck. “I may love you, Baby, but I can’t be with you right now.”

  He tossed her picture back on the seat, and ran out of that swamp so fast Hades nor Satan could keep up. There was a light up ahead and he drove straight toward it. It turned out to be Millie’s sign. Certain that he was no longer in danger, he passed Millie’s and headed home.

  Once he was back in the depressing, little house, he gathered the mementoes of Lianna and stored them in a portable safe along with his important papers. Tears poured from his eyes. His hands were shaking. He could barely manage to put the picture away. “Sorry, Babe. But this is for my own good.”

  He put on a pot of coffee and stepped into a hot shower. The water warmed his muscles as the hot steam cleared his mind.

  Taylor pulled on his jogging pants and wandered into the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee lightened his mood. He poured himself a cup of the hot, black brew and flopped down at the kitchen table.

  John stood in Taylor’s doorway. “The coffee smells good.”

  Taylor looked up. Why does this not surprise me?

  “You really should be more careful about locking your doors. He threw a box of donuts on the table.

  Taylor stared at the donuts. “Don’t believe all the urban legends.”

  “They’re for me,” John said. “You just happen to have the good fortune of being the only person I know who’s awake and not my wife. She hates it when I eat those things. They’re better with coffee.”

  “Help yourself, John.” Taylor motioned toward the cupboard. “Hope you like it strong.”

  John grabbed a cup from the dish drainer and filled it with the strong, black brew. “Aren’t you gonna ask me why I’m here?”

  “I figure you’ll tell me when you’re ready.”

  John sat down at the table across from Taylor. “Farrah came home cryin’.”

  Taylor grabbed a donut and started breaking it up. “Sorry about that.”

  John leaned forward and cradled his coffee between his massive hands. “You wanna tell me what happened?”

  “Nope.” Taylor dunked part of a donut in his coffee. “It’s none of your business.” He tossed the soggy piece of pastry in his mouth.

  John slammed his fist against the table. “She’s my daughter.”

  He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “Then go ask her.”

  “You sure are a cocky, little bastard.”

  “Part of my charm. But no worries. She doesn’t want to see me anymore.”

  John relaxed. “Too bad. Things were interesting with you around.”

  Taylor finished his coffee. “I figured you’d be tired of me by now.” He stood up and refilled his cup. “Want some more?”

  John went over to the pot and topped off his cup. “What’s next?”

  “I don’t know. I have to hang around here until the elections. After that?” Taylor shrugged.

  John sat down and grabbed a donut. “You thinking about going back to Miami?”

  “I’m kind of burned out on that scene.” Taylor sat back down. “I’ll have to check my options.”

  “Tallahassee, then?”

  “Hell no.” Taylor laughed. “Teddy Bear goes to school over there. If I ever ran up with him, I’d feel obligated to kick his ass on general principle.”

  John stared into his coffee. “I never cared for him much either.”

  “It’s not because he’s a pompous rich boy. He cheated on Farrah. Anybody who would hurt her like that, deserves to have his ass kicked.”

  “You hurt her. She came home cryin’ after goin’ out with you.”

  “I love your daughter.” Taylor’s stomach felt like it was going to jump into his throat. “She kicked me to the curb.”

  “What happened before that.”

  “Ask her.”

  Taylor’s house phone rang. The answering machine picked up.

  “This is Commander Phillips. You did some damn fine work in Morgansville. If you’re interested in working for us on a more permanent basis--”

  He picked up the phone. “This is Taylor. I’m in.”

  “Good. We need you in Daytona as soon as the elections are over.”

  “Sounds great. See you in January.” He put the phone down. “I guess that settles that.”

  John got up and headed for the back door. “What about Farrah?”

  “She has until January. Tell her I said tag, she’s it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Farrah’ll know.”

  Chapter 33

  Farrah avoided Taylor for an entire week. After the second week, she started missing him. She tried to call him, but he wouldn’t answer his phone. Every time she knocked on his front door he’d leave through the back.

  The third week she got desperate and broke into his house during the middle of the night. She crept through the living room and found herself staring down the barrel of his police revolver.

  She held up both her hands afraid to breathe. “Don’t shoot.”

  “What kind of a whack-job are you?” Taylor holstered his gun. “I could have blown your damn head off.”

  She lowered her hands. “At least I’d have your attention.”

  “What you have is breaking and entering charge.” He checked the doors to make sure they were locked. “How did you get in here anyway?”

  She folded her arms in front of her chest. “Do you really expect me to answer that?”

  “I’m sure you can find your way out. I’m going back to bed.”

  Farrah followed him and laid down.

  He moved over to the edge of the bed. “What in the hell is going on with you?”

  “I came here to talk.” She curled up next to him. “But if you’re too tired, I’ll wait until morning.”

  “Move over.” He grabbed the bedpost. “I’m almost off the bed.”

  Farrah got up and lay down on the other side of him.

  Taylor moved over. “Now what are you doing?”

  “Proving to you that I’m not a leper.”

  “I know you’re not a leper. You’re a friggin’ addiction.” He clenched his jaw for a few seconds then relaxed. “And I’m the damn junkie who didn’t think it would hurt to try that first taste.”

  She propped up on her elbow. “What are you talking about?”


  “I’m talking about that day we went horse back riding. I was just out there making sure you didn’t go anywhere near that explosion sight. The next thing I knew, we’re sitting under an oak tree, and I’m fantasizing about kissing you. I was glad when you said you and Ted never came out there together. It kind of made it our spot.

  “When we went to Hank’s, I could’ve stayed out there on that dance floor all night with you.

  “And who could forget that night in my bedroom when you tried to awaken me from that nightmare? When I woke up and realized it was you I was holding, if you hadn’t been so scared, I would have made love to you right there. Every time I look at your side of the bed I think I smell you perfume.”

  No one ever spoke to her like that. She looked directly at him. “I had no idea.”

  “Fate couldn’t have done any better if it stuck you in a syringe, and jabbed the needle in my vein. You think you’re just this little farm girl. But woman, you had me wanting to hold you since the day we met.” He turned his back to her. “Never mind. You got me babbling like some damn, lovesick school boy.”

  Farrah noticed something was missing. “Where’s your wedding picture?”

  “A friend told me to stop trying to love a ghost.”

  “So, does that mean--”

  “That means nothing has changed. You still have goals you want to meet, and I want to see you do it. Otherwise, you’ll always wonder what if.” He turned toward her. His expression softened. “You know I’m always going to be there for you. And after you’ve conquered the world, I’m gonna be right there waiting. Just like always.”

  Epilogue

  Four years later:

  Taylor stood in the shadows of the stage curtains holding a dozen red roses. He wiped his sweaty palms on the pants of his new, dark-blue suit and checked his reflection in the small window of a dark room and brushed a piece of lint from his light-blue shirt.

  “Farrah Patrice Mathews,” the University of Florida President announced from the graduation podium.

  Farrah was a striking figure as her long, blonde hair cascaded down the back of her black graduation gown.

  He loved her hair. He was glad she didn’t cut it like some women do when they reach their twenties.