Strapped Down

by Nina G. Jones

  “Yes.”

  He stands up and takes the very tips of his tongue to one of my nipples. “I love your breasts. Do you want me to take out my cock?”

  “Fuck me with it already!”

  “Woah…now wait a minute. I decide when you get fucked,” he says with the kind of smirk that tells me he liked my sass. Taylor pulls my thong down to the floor, so that I am naked besides my heels. He guides me by my hand to a spot in front on a huge mirror, likely 8x8 feet. He makes me face it as I stand behind him. “Do you see what I see? Do you understand why I want to fuck you all the time?” I am too modest to answer. His hands invade my body, gliding over and fondling my breasts, his erection firmly against my backside as he slides one hand between my legs, forcing them apart. “I want to be a good guy, Shy, but you make me want to do bad things. Now bend over for me.”

  To my left is the bed, so I place my hands on it and give him my backside. “Keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to see your face when I make you come.” Finally, he unbuttons his pants and pulls off his underwear. His thick, firm erection stands at attention. “I’m going to put this in your pussy, nice and easy.”

  We both let out a long moan when he slides inside of me. “You are so wet. Fuck.”

  I watch him in the mirror, but he never looks at it. Instead, he admires me, rubbing my backside, squeezing it firmly, smacking it, to the point of making me yell out in painful ecstasy. Every time he thrusts deep inside of me, the weight of his pelvis on my backside makes me aware of the beads still inside of me. Taylor keeps the pace, rhythmic and slow. I can tell he is so hard, that if he goes any faster, neither one of us will be able to hold out. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, and makes it disappear inside of me over and over. Being a spectator to our beautiful bodies intertwined in these lustful acts make me too hot to hold out any longer and I tighten around him. My moans become louder with each thrust.

  “Tell me when you’re coming, Shy,” he says in a breathy voice.

  “I am! I’m coming!” Taylor does not change his pace, instead he very slowly pulls out the beads so that there is a total feeling of release combined with the explosion. I can’t even look at the mirror, as I tilt my head back, crying out his name in a shaky voice, clenching onto the bed as if I would float away if I were to let go. My legs shake so much that I think might collapse, but Taylor holds onto me. He then lets out a deep moan, squeezing the flesh of my waist as he releases into me.

  I collapse on the bed and he on top of me, our sweaty bodies panting in unison. “You rock my world,” I say to him.

  “You…you…Christ…” he says in between breathes and for once, I believe Taylor is completely lost for words.

  ***

  As I pack my bags, I am bursting with excitement to go on vacation with the most interesting people I know. We settled on Labor Day weekend to take advantage of the extra day off. Kristin invited Chad, so he managed not only go get both of us the day off on Friday, but also an early Thursday departure.

  “Taylor, this is a little ridiculous for four days,” I say as I sit on top of my suitcase trying to cram in the last bit of clothes. He insisted Mona, his (our?) stylist, take me shopping, so I have a huge travel wardrobe with no baggage limits since we are using the jet.

  “It is, but who cares? You don’t have to lug it through an airport or anything. If you don’t want to bring all this stuff, take some stuff out.”

  “But I like it all!”

  Taylor throws a pair of balled up socks at me.

  Since the incident with Eric, I have spent every night at Taylor’s place. I still have intentions of going back to live in the condo, I just haven’t gotten around to confronting it. Plus, staying with Taylor has been great. In the morning he either sees me off if he’s working from home, or we drive in together if he’s going to headquarters. We have slowly been trying to move forward from Eric’s betrayal, and deep down inside, I fear being forced to confront the last place I saw him will revive the many mixed feelings I have about him and what he did. I think it helps Taylor to see that I am doing okay, and if I begin to show signs that I am not, I will take him down with me.

  “Do you think I should bring a sweater?” I ask.

  “Maybe something light, you always get cold.”

  My favorite cardigan is in the box Marsha gave to me weeks ago that I have yet to unload. It’s in a storage closet near the foyer and I lug it into the bedroom, resting it on a chair. Out of the box comes the cardigan, various books, a couple of photos, some used notepads, and a small unmarked envelope. Inside the envelope is a piece of gold jewelry. I tilt the envelope so that it spills onto my palm. On a thin yellow-gold chain is an angel wing charm and, separately, what appears to be a solitaire ruby. It is puzzling to find this in the box because it does not belong to me. I assume it’s Marsha’s, maybe she accidentally put it in there, but a quick text to her informs me that she found it in my old office caught in the back of one of the file drawers. She tells me to hold onto it since no one has asked about it (that file cabinet hadn’t been used for over a year before becoming mine) and she’s almost certain it may never be claimed. It’s a pretty, charming piece and I slip it into my travel case to bring with me on the trip.

  As I continue to pack, I receive a call from Mr. MacAllister, but ignore it, resolving to call him when I can find some private time to speak with him. Eventually, Taylor retreats to his office for an overseas conference call late into the night, and I sneak off to the small office upstairs to call him.

  “Hi, Mr. MacAllister.”

  “Hi Shyla. How are you?”

  “I’m well. Any news?”

  “I’m afraid to say, I may be at an impasse.”

  “How so?”

  “Everyone I can find who was in C.O.S who knew Lyla says they believe she is dead. As far as they all know Alan Peters was obsessed with her and she rarely ever left his sight. The common belief is the reason her body was not at the scene is because she was killed and disposed of before then. They don’t believe Alan would have let her out alive.”

  “Do you think that’s true?”

  “I have to tell you, my gut says something is off. I have no evidence to go either way, but I just don’t believe she was killed. It makes no sense that her son would be left alive in that case. I believe she had to have protected him in some way. The problem is, she seems to have literally vanished off of the face of the earth. She may be in another country with a new identity and has had many years to cover her tracks. I want to keep digging, but I have to let you know I don’t think I can find her without a break.”

  “I understand, but I want you to keep digging. Let’s keep going until we have exhausted every possible lead. Spoken to every person who ever knew her.”

  “I agree, I know there is a break out there, and I will keep searching as long as you want me to, but I have to ask you something.”

  “Okay.”

  “I assume you’re not investing into this as a hobby, that there is a personal reason behind this…”

  “Yes,” I say hesitantly.

  “Do you know someone who knew her? Knew about her?”

  “I can’t. I can’t bring them into this.”

  “They may be the key.”

  He’s right, Taylor may not be of any help, but Taylor’s father had to have known her body was never found and he intentionally kept that information from his son. But I don’t have the nerve to send a P.I. to Taylor’s father, that would really be overstepping my bounds.

  “That has to be an absolute last resort. I can’t bring this back without knowing she is alive first. It would be too painful, dealing with her death all over again.”

  “Well my next step is to find out the identity of the child’s father. Even though he was not part of the cult, he may know something.”

  “No, you can’t go there.”

  “You’re really narrowing my field here.”

  “Please trust me here, we
need fresh information.”

  “Just because he’s old news doesn’t mean he doesn’t have fresh information.”

  “He is on that list of people we don’t touch until we have exhausted every other person who was in C.O.S. I know it’s difficult with all the name changing and the moving around the country, but there are people out there that have to know something.”

  “Okay. We’ll do it your way, but this could be a long haul.”

  “I understand, and thank you.” As we are about to hang up, I remember a clue.

  “Wait, there is something I can tell you. The person who saved the child, she was a close friend of Lyla’s it seems. She had long brown hair. Maybe you can ask if anyone knows who she was.”

  “Yes, that’s helpful. I did find reports about a woman discovering the scene, her name was Marie Portero. It looks like her whereabouts are unknown at this point too. She definitely left the state, so I am trying to track her down as well. These survivors are a close-knit group and I am beginning to think they helped both of these women disappear, but again, this is all a hunch.”

  I make my way downstairs feeling uneasy about this whole C.O.S investigation. Maybe some questions are better left unanswered, but I feel in my gut that unraveling this mystery can help Taylor. If his mother went through great lengths to protect him, he needs to know. But what if after all this, Taylor doesn’t care or loses his trust in me? Am I trying to help him resolve the pain of his past, or trying to satisfy a morbid curiosity? At this point, I am too deep in this investigation to let it go. I need to know what happened to Lyla and I sincerely feel Taylor does too.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Giddiness and excitement permeates in the air as we all wheel our luggage to the jet. Lizzy insisted that we all wear giant sun hats, so Kristin and I comply. I match mine up with a black sundress with big bright flowers of various colors, a pair of wedge espadrilles, and a large pair of black sunglasses.

  “Don’t you look glamorous,” Taylor said when he saw me emerge from the bedroom dressed and ready to go.

  He is quiet during the ride to the airport, but when we emerge from the SUV and he sees both Lizzy and Kristin wearing enormous hats as well, he turns to me and asks: “Let me guess, Lizzy’s idea?”

  “How did you know?” I asked.

  “Because I do,” he says with a cocked eyebrow.

  Chad and Kristin look happy and comfortable together. This is the first time Chad and Henry will meet each other and I wondered if there would be any tension, but Henry uses his gregarious nature to make Chad comfortable and so he seems to be none the wiser about Kristin and Henry’s one night stand.

  Before taking off, I text my mother, just to let her know I’ll be out of town.

  Me:

  Just an FYI. I will be out of town for a few days. Going on vacation to Costa Rica.

  Mom:

  With Taylor?

  Me:

  Yes. Kristin and a bunch of others too.

  Mom:

  Okay, well have fun and stay safe.

  Something is off about her. I can’t put my finger on it, but she hasn’t been herself since I last saw her. I think it’s because she saw the cuts, but her usual tactic would be to flood me with concern. Instead, she has been short and dare I say, avoidant. It’s usually me dodging the phone calls or concerns.

  Chad and I devote most of our plane ride to working. In fact, almost all of us do. Once we land, we are driven to the Arenal area where we will be staying. We arrive at an opulent mansion on the hillside with beautiful views of the volcano. Even having been exposed to so much luxury since I met Taylor, it’s hard not to be in awe of this palatial home. The ceilings must be thirty feet high, with marble floors and colossal white columns that lead to a seemingly endless infinity pool overlooking the mountainside and volcano.

  We all agree to immediately change into swimsuits and take advantage of the beautiful pool and deck.

  I pull the tags off of my new royal-blue bandeau bikini. “You’re gonna give Henry a seizure,” Taylor says when he gives me the once over.

  “That is such old news,” I say, checking out my butt in the mirror.

  “No, he still thinks your hot and he’s a perv. I don’t blame him though.”

  “It’s not like we all didn’t go skinny dipping together.”

  “Yeah, but it was dark.”

  “You’re not jealous are you?”

  “I don’t mind people looking, I was just making an observation. Besides, you know I like to get a little jealous, it gets me fired up.”

  I grab my sun hat and sunglasses and walk out to the pool. Taylor stays out of the fray, sitting quietly on a lounge chair with his laptop. I understand the perks of his life come with huge challenges such as always needing to be connected, but something about him seems off today. Besides a few comments about my hat and bikini, he hasn’t said much to me all morning. Instead of pestering him, I give him space and instead hang out with the people who want to have some fun instead. Henry, Kristin and Chad are already at the pool so I join them. The butler — cabana-man — I am not sure what to call him -- brings us drinks as we discuss our plans for what to do during our stay. As I chat with the gang, Lizzy comes out and sits next to Taylor. She leans in to talk to him and he puts his laptop aside and has a very engaged conversation with her. I attempt to eavesdrop, but promptly notice they are speaking in French. Taylor and Lizzy have never done that before, exclusively spoken French in the presence of the rest of us, and while we are not in the same conversation, it irks me.

  He’s been quiet all morning, not saying a word since we have arrived except to point out that his friend thinks I am hot, but here he is engaging with Lizzy to the point of excluding the rest of us by speaking another language. They then both stand up and enter the house. I refuse to act jealous by following them, and I know they don’t see each other that way, but I am so used to Taylor’s attentiveness that seeing him place it on any other woman makes me uneasy. I turn my attention back the conversation at the pool and another hour passes, then another half hour and they are nowhere to be seen.

  We all agree to shower and head out to a restaurant together, emerging from the pool and entering the house all at once. Taylor and Lizzy are in a deep conversation and abruptly stop and disengage when we all enter. I begin to seethe. This is our first vacation together as a couple and he seems to be more interested in spending time with Lizzy than me. I walk directly to our bedroom without saying a word to him.

  He follows a few minutes later. “It looks like we will be leaving in an hour,” he says.

  “I know,” I respond in a short tone.

  “Something wrong?”

  “Nope,” but my tone says it all.

  “Okay, so something is wrong. Are you going to tell me, or are you going to beat around the bush about it?”

  “I would just like to get ready for dinner if that’s okay with you.”

  “So are you going to be short with me all night?”

  I grab my things and go directly into the bathroom without responding, but he follows me.

  “This isn’t fair, you need to tell me what I’ve done if you’re upset with me.”

  “I don’t need to do anything.” I am sort of enjoying pulling his strings to get his attention even if it’s in a childish manner.

  “How much have you had to drink?” His question only fuels my anger.

  “Of course that could be the only reason I could be upset with you, Mr. Perfect.”

  “Wow Shyla, I am not sure what I did to make you this upset…”

  “That’s the problem!”

  “So I am supposed to be a mind-reader?”

  “Why don’t you go talk to Lizzy, maybe she can help you figure it out!”

  I watch his face as my comment registers. It changes from despondent, to a grin, to all out keeled over laughter. Between laughs he gets out a response. “Wait, so you’re jealous of me and Lizzy?” He laughs some more, as my cheeks flush red with
embarrassment at how silly he is making me feel.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “I’m sorry. Yes, it is.”

  “Well I am so glad I could humor you,” I say trying to hold back a smile, his unusual laughter is contagious and is flushing out my anger against my will.

  “You’ve been quiet all day, and then right when we get here, you two go off and have Francophone quality time. Sorry that I was hoping to have some time with you.”

  “It has nothing to do with us. Lizzy just wanted to bounce some things off of me.” I don’t say a word back. “You know, I have to get you jealous more often, you get really cute when you’re angry,” he says walking out of the bathroom.

  “Just let me borrow your creepy journal of sluts, that’ll give me tons of fuel.” Oops, that wasn’t very nice.

  Taylor’s eyes widen and his smile disappears. “Low blow,” he says in a firm tone, closing the door behind him. Well fuck, now he’s pissed. When I exit the bathroom, Taylor passes me without saying a word; now this is the silent treatment. Man can he get icy, I mean I feel an actual drop in temperature as he passes me. We both quietly ride to the restaurant, avoiding conversation with one another, while engaging in conversation with others. Usually when Taylor gets quiet, he is universally so. Everyone just chalks it up to Taylor being Taylor, but tonight the fact that he is not off by himself having some quiet time is a clear signal that he is sending me a message. Surprisingly, Lizzy is pretty quiet too. She didn’t spend any time with us in the pool and has been quietly downing wine in the car.

  We arrive at an open air steakhouse in La Fortuna and promptly place our orders. As soon as the waiter walks away, a giant toad hops its way into the restaurant and over to us as some of the group tries to snap pictures on their phones.