Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  Near the end, I could so easily predict when the cycle of inflicting pain, extreme care and bottomless apologies had come full circle again. I could see it in her glance as well. And still, I didn’t leave. It’s the not being able to walk away part that I can’t forgive myself for. If I had, she’d still be alive. I wouldn’t have the blood of another human being on my hands.

  I stand in front of the mirror, getting ready for my fourth ‘official’ date with Tess and ask myself whether I’m ready for this. But it’s the same woman staring back at me as when I first arrived, as when Tess came over for the first date, the second, and the third. I guess I won’t know until I actually try, even though I don’t know how I can allow another person to touch me like that. Because, with Tracy, there was always a price to pay in the end. Even though I know that Tess is not Tracy, some thought patterns are so persistent not even time and distance can erase them.

  When the bell rings, I take a deep breath. Tess and I have kissed, and fondled, and whispered sweet nothings in each other’s ear, but every time the tension was about to rise to boiling point, I had to stop her. I tried not to so very hard, but as soon as my brain—and my fear—started to take over, I knew I had to step in. I knew I wasn’t ready.

  But I can’t keep on blowing her off like that, not because I think her patience will run out, but because I want to break the pattern, I want to bust through my defenses and give myself to Tess, I want to undo Tracy’s grasp on me. It’s time.

  “Hey,” Tess says. She’s wearing the same dress she wore when she took me to her land on the outskirts of Nelson, and she’s holding up a bunch of flowers. “Happy fourth date.” She hands me the flowers and I melt a little inside. On our first date, when I asked her why she liked me so much and she blew me off with a quick quip, I had really wanted her to tell me, though I know that some things don’t need to be said. Some things are just obvious.

  “Thank you.” I take the flowers and hold them in one hand while I pull her inside with the other. As usual, Socks is mewling with excitement at our feet.

  As has become the habit, a gentle peck swiftly turns into a frenzied lip-lock and, before I know it, Tess has me gasping for air again. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, the thoughts slam back into my brain with unstoppable force. What do you think you’re doing? Have you lost your mind? Remember last time you let someone kiss you like that?

  I try to ignore them, hold them at bay as best I can, but it’s not working, and my lips stiffen on Tess’s mouth. “We should talk,” I say, because, again, I realize this is not just something we can kiss away. This is something we’re going to have to deal with together.

  “I like what you’ve had to say so far.” Tess gives me a crooked grin and pulls me close again.

  Before she can shut me up with her lips on mine, I say, “No, we should really talk. I need to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” If Tess is disappointed, no signs of it show on her face. “Of course.” Every time I do this to her, I can’t help but wonder when I will reach the bottom of her well of patience.

  We go into the living room and sit. The ceiling fan is whirring. I pour us both a glass of red wine from a bottle I opened an hour ago.

  We chit-chat for a while, which is always easy for us to do. She tells me about the prospective buyer who came to check out the last of the ranch’s livestock today, and couldn’t believe he’d have to do business with a woman. I tell her about a big job I landed today with the county—all thanks to my re-design of The Nelson Ledger.

  “How’s your drawing arm?” she asks, and runs a finger over it as though she can examine it that way.

  “Almost as good as new.” Although Tracy was way too smart to ever injure my ‘money arm’ as she called it, it’s ironic that the body part she never hurt acted up the most after she was gone.

  “I’m so happy to hear that.” I can hear in Tess’s voice how happy she is for me and I can’t wait to make a morning-after drawing of her. Tess Douglas in my bed after a night of love. It’s all I want. I can see how it would start, and I yearn for that post-orgasmic haze, but it’s the middle part—the action bit—that I have problems with.

  “Look, er, Tess,” I begin, my voice already shaky. “You might wonder whether Tracy ever hurt me in, er, the bedroom.” I avoid Tess’s glance, stare at my hands instead. “She didn’t. On the contrary. In bed is where we made up.” I draw in a deep breath, exhale slowly. “I guess that’s what screws with my head the most. Why taking the next step with you is so hard. Because it reminds me of what it used to mean to me and how, at the same time, it made me feel like the weakest person in the world, but also the most hopeful.” I glance up. Tess nods thoughtfully. “I’m by no means saying that we stayed together because the sex was so good.” I feel utterly mortified but, strangely, at the same time, relief sets in. “But it was a big part of our dynamic and I just, er, want to warn you that… I don’t know. I guess that sums it up. I don’t know what it’s going to do to me to land in bed with you. For a long time, sex meant something very different to me than it’s supposed to mean. Not that there’s one true definition or anything.” Entering rambling mode, a voice in the back of my mind shouts, but I can’t stop. As though as long as words are coming from my mouth, I’ll be safe. “It’s just that, for me, it might not stand for the same beautiful thing that you think it is. I mean, for me right now, as I sit here wanting you so badly, I swear to you, Tess, I want you so much, but I’m so scared right now that it feels more like something I need to get through… if that makes any sense at all.”

  Tess nods and scrunches her lips together. “First of all, I’m really glad you told me that, because that must have been so hard.” She takes my hands in hers. “Second, as long as you feel this way, nothing will happen between us.”

  “But, no, that’s not—” I try to interrupt her, but she holds up her hand.

  “Listen to me, Laura. There is simply no way I’m taking someone to bed who isn’t one hundred percent ready. I’d constantly be wondering whether what I’m doing is triggering some nasty memory. But—” She holds up a finger. “What I would like to do, tonight or tomorrow or some time next week, is stay the night. Just sleep in the same bed with you. Fall asleep next to you and wake up next to you in the morning. Would that be okay?”

  “Yes. More than okay.” I look at Tess and conclude I will never know the full extent of how lucky I’ve been to meet her.

  “Slumber party?”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” I try to mimic her accent but fail miserably.

  * * *

  After an evening of eating frozen pizza, sharing a bottle of wine—my drinking is increasing by the day—and talking while the TV played in the background, we take turns in the bathroom. I go first and when I emerge I find Tess with an exaggerated expression of worry on her face.

  “What’s wrong?” I crouch down next to her.

  “I didn’t bring my pajamas. Do you have an old t-shirt I can use?”

  “Not an old one. I got rid of all my old clothes before I moved here, but you can borrow one from my vast collection of brand new white tees.” I dig my fingers into her thigh to not lose my balance.

  “I’m such a tall drink of water, it won’t cover much.” Her smile is wicked and slow. “Do you think you can handle that?”

  “I think I’ll be fine.” I push myself up, grab a t-shirt from my wardrobe and give it to her.

  When Tess is in the bathroom I consider how, earlier, she so deftly defused the situation, but how, because of the early stage of our relationship, some sparks of tension remain. I hop into bed and wait for her there. Of course, Socks has followed me, and has already taken position in his favorite spot on the pillow.

  “I may have forgotten to mention that it’s a threesome slumber party,” I say when Tess exits the bathroom. She wasn’t lying when she said my t-shirt would barely cover half her body. The panties she’s wearing don’t leave much to the imagination either and I’m left to conclude that she
must have dressed for what won’t be happening tonight.

  Tess brings her hands to her side and utters a big sigh. “Who am I to come between a lesbian and her pussycat?” Then she rushes to bed and slips under the covers with me. Just the weight of her body, and the heat that radiates from it, and the earlier sight of her in her barely-there panties and t-shirt that exposed a sliver of skin of her belly, is enough to send my mind racing into another tailspin of horniness and fear.

  “Lights off?” she asks.

  “Yep.” I find the switch above the bed and the room turns dark. We’re both lying on our back and I, for one, am afraid to move a muscle.

  “You don’t snore, do you?” Tess asks.

  “You’ll soon find out.”

  I feel Tess inching closer. “Good night, Laura,” she says, and kisses me on the cheek.

  Twenty-Eight

  Tess

  Trying to fall asleep next to Laura and in Laura’s bed is not an easy task. I’ve fallen into a restless slumber off and on but, mostly, I’m just waiting for dawn to break through the curtains. It doesn’t help that Socks breathes way too heavily for a kitten his age and size—as though every single one of his exhales needs to show utter contentment.

  I try not to toss and turn too much, and to keep to my side of the bed. Not only so I don’t disturb Laura, but even more so for my own peace of mind. It was a good idea in theory, one I applauded myself for because I didn’t feel like driving home with images of what could have been assaulting my brain throughout the journey again, and because it displayed a sensitivity toward Laura that she obviously still needs. But now, lying here next to her, it’s more stressful than I could have anticipated. I also wonder if she has slept at all. The last time Laura shared a bed with someone must have been with Tracy, this woman who is dead but still controls a big part of her life—mine as well.

  I’ve been able to resist googling her, because I don’t know how it would make Laura feel if I told her that I did. Additionally, I guess I’m afraid of looking at the face of someone who will probably look as ordinary as the next person, someone whose face won’t bear any signs of the things she was capable of.

  “Are you awake,” Laura whispers, startling me.

  “Yes. Wide awake, in fact.”

  “Can’t sleep, huh?” Her voice sounds sleep-drenched.

  “Strange bed and all that.”

  “It’s my bed and I can’t sleep either.”

  “Well, that’s perfectly understandable, of course, what with the foxy lady you have lying next to you.”

  “Tell me about it.” Laura snickers and every single smile or giggle or chuckle I get out of her, always feels like a small victory.

  Laura obviously doesn’t believe in alarm clocks so I have no idea of the time. The room is totally dark and I can only hear Laura’s voice and, when I turn my head, make out her contour under the duvet.

  “Do you want to spoon?” she asks, startling me again.

  “Sure.” Instantly, my pulse picks up speed. “Outer spoon or inner spoon?”

  “Inner,” she says. Perhaps because the room is bathed in darkness I can make out the inflections in her voice better, but it sounds a little hoarse—it sounds like she desperately wants something.

  “Here I come,” I announce. I turn on my side and shuffle closer to Laura until my belly touches her backside. I slip one arm under my pillow and curve one over her middle, unsure what to do with my fingers, so I just let them dangle in the space in front of her belly. I leave a tiny gap between our bodies, but she surprises me by pushing herself against me. There’s no way I’m getting any more sleep now. “Is that okay?” I ask.

  “Perfect.” She tilts her head back a bit, and some of her hair gets caught in my mouth and tickles my nose, but I don’t care. “Will you be able to go back to sleep?”

  “No,” I say, truthfully, eliciting another giggle from Laura.

  “Aren’t you exhausted from working on the ranch all day?” she asks, her body convulsing against mine a bit. “All those bulls that need taming and cows that need a-milkin’.”

  “Hush now, girl,” I say in the dirtiest Texas accent I can muster.

  “What do you do on the ranch exactly?” she asks.

  “Just prance about in my coveralls with a blade of grass between my teeth, whistling and overseeing my land.”

  “Is it ever possible to have a serious conversation about you?” Laura shifts against me—perhaps I’ve agitated her?—and, as a result, her ass presses hard into my belly.

  “If you catch me at the right time.”

  “Seriously, though, Tess. I’ve told you so much about me, and I’ve gotten to know your family, and the place where you’ve lived your whole life, yet, sometimes it feels as though I’ve only just scratched the surface of Tess Douglas.”

  “I’m just not that interesting.” Compared to Laura’s, my life so far has been a breeze.

  “I hope I’m not prying, but… there must be a reason why you never wanted to leave Nelson. I get that you’re close to your family, especially your sister, but isn’t falling in love supposed to be stronger than that?”

  “What do you mean?” She has me thoroughly confused.

  “Have you never fallen in love so hard that it made leaving Nelson a no-brainer?”

  “I have. And I have left Nelson. I told you about that. But it didn’t work out.”

  “Come on, Tess. Give me something to work with here. Everyone has a dark secret. What’s yours?”

  “I’ve fallen in love; I’ve had my heart broken; and I’ve felt very lonely. That’s all I can tell you. What you see is what you get with me.”

  “Okay.” She latches on to the arm I have draped over her. “Then I guess it’s official. I’ve never met anyone like you before. Someone who has it so together there’s nothing beneath the surface when I scratch.” She runs her fingernails over my skin.

  “Is that your way of saying I’m boring?” I can’t keep a note of indignation out of my voice.

  Laura turns on her back. My eyes have grown accustomed to the darkness enough for me to make out her features. “God no. Maybe I was just trying to erase a bit of my own darkness by digging up yours.” She’s still running her nails over my arm. “Or making sure you really weren’t too good to be true.” My arm now rests just underneath her breasts.

  “What can I say? I’m a good girl.” Because she’s stroking me, I start skating my fingers over her side in return. My mouth is close to her temple, so I kiss her there.

  “Right now, it doesn’t feel as though I’m lying in bed with a good girl.” Laura clamps her fingers around my arm and, at first, I think she wants me to stop but, instead, she angles her face toward me and kisses me full on the lips. My hand rides up a little, to the bottom of her breast, and I just let it rest there while we kiss.

  “I want you,” she says, when we break from our kiss.

  “Are you sure?” My hand scoots up a little higher.

  “Yes,” Laura pants, turns fully on her side and presses herself hard against me.

  Twenty-Nine

  Laura

  I press myself hard against Tess, wanting to feel as much of her body against me as possible. Her hand lingering below my breast was what finally pushed me over the edge. The unmistakable effect it was having on me, together with the intimacy of our conversation, all bundled up together like that. She made me feel safe and protected—enough to go through with this right now at least. I want her. And I’ve stopped asking myself whether it can really be as simple as that. I had to because the answers were driving me crazy.

  I need to get out of my head now. I need her to do that to me.

  “Hold on,” I say when we break from our embrace. I push myself up on one elbow and grab Socks with my free hand. “I’m very sorry, little mister, but you don’t want to see this. Time for you to go catch some mice.” I put him on the floor, knowing full well that kittens don’t take hints like that, but maybe he’s hungry—and we’ll
get lucky.

  Though I’m getting lucky already. I can barely see Tess, but I see her eyes shine through the darkness, and I can hear her breath come quick with anticipation, mixed in with my own shallow breaths, because now I’ve taken this next leap, there’s no going back. Yes, I’ve been afraid, but this has been brewing between us for weeks. This is my time to let go.

  I start unbuttoning the very chaste pajama top I put on. I can’t bear to feel its fabric on my skin anymore. Everything needs to go. I’m all in. I want her to see and explore all of me—after all, I’ve allowed her to explore much more of my soul than any other person has in a long time. I let my top slide to the floor. I’m in no position to get the bottoms off as well, but I’m sure Tess will take care of that in due course. Because that’s the overall feeling I get when I’m with Tess: that she’ll take care of everything from now on. I’m no longer alone. And I want her so badly, my clit is a throbbing mess between my legs already. It pulses like a second heartbeat, pumping desire through my veins.

  I flank Tess with my bare chest, pressing a breast against her while I let my finger slide under the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing. Maybe this deal was sealed when she came out of the bathroom before we attempted to sleep. The way she stood there, with her confidence slightly chipped away, and her long, long legs uncovered—her entire stance an invitation I was almost ready to accept.

  My finger on her skin is like a drug. Like that first sip of alcohol after a year of abstinence. This tiny gesture, and this tiny surface where our skins meet, gives me the confidence to exclaim a resounding, though silent, yes to her invitation. I was never shy in the bedroom and I want to show her how I feel, I want her to know that she didn’t wait in vain. And that, without her, I would never have been able to build myself up again so quickly in this little town. Though, on the surface I wasn’t able to welcome the persistence with which she pursued me, it touched me deep in my heart. It showed me that second chances are real.