by Marni Mann
I felt my lips being pulled apart by his fingers as he began alternating between sucking and flapping. The water showered over my head, hot droplets running down my neck, chest and stomach. When I glanced up, rain filled my eyes. My body was consumed with sensations: the drizzle from above, the swelling and rubbing of the most sensitive part on my body. Penetration soon joined them. I glanced down at a white mask pressed into my lower stomach. I still had no desire to know his real name or what the rest of his face looked like. I only wanted what was inside his mouth.
His speed varied. His fingers continued to plunge, rotating between one and three knuckles. I squeezed my nipples, and so did he. And even though I tried to slow down the build, I couldn’t stop it. Both his tongue and hands moved faster. My back arched, and my toes scrunched against the rock, pushing down to keep me balanced. I lost my breath. My whole body turned numb except for the spot that he licked. And when that spot finally turned numb, too, an explosion erupted, threatening to travel through my stomach and to each limb.
I screamed.
His moans vibrated over my skin.
I held the intensity for several seconds until I finally allowed the shudder, my body bouncing between his face and the wall and back again. My fingers loosened, and so did his. I stepped away from him and into the main overhead stream, letting the water wash over me. Jay stayed on the floor, elbows on his knees, and his chin resting on his palm. He still wore his pants and shoes. I was still finding my breath.
His eyes traveled over my body and stopped when they reached my lips. “Bring me your pussy. I want to do it again.”
***
When Sal came into my room for the second time, it was a few minutes past two and I had just finished changing into my robe. My hair was wet; my skin still pruned from all the time Jay and I had spent in the shower. I dropped the bikini into one of the sinks, along with the false gold lashes, and clung around his arm. I was already drowsy, the flickering candlelight that reflected off the mirrored floors in the hallway made it worse, but Sal easily held my weight.
There wasn’t any music playing in my wing tonight, so the faint murmur from his earpiece could be heard. The Bluetooth device seemed to be both speaker and microphone. He placed his hand over it, muffling the noise even more.
“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” he said. “Keep things…stable.”
It was the first time he had ever spoken in front of me. His tone was low-pitched and stern, with a hint of concern. His body had stiffened, and our pace seemed to increase. I wanted to ask if everything was all right, but I wasn’t allowed to talk to him unless it was an emergency.
Was this one?
We moved through the door, out of the wing and onto the catwalk. Just as I was about to ask, Victoria came into view. She stood below, at the bottom of the stairs, with an envelope in her hand. Once Sal noticed her, we began to walk even faster.
“Your week’s pay,” she said as we reached her.
She handed me the envelope and I quickly counted the bills. They were all there, in hundreds, similar to the previous weeks.
“We couldn’t be more pleased with you and your performance,” she said. “You’ve earned yourself a raise.”
“Thank you.”
“It appears that you’ve been enjoying yourself…or it looks that way on camera, at least.”
While I smiled inwardly, I blushed. I had gotten Victoria to watch my monitor, but I wasn’t faking the pleasure she had seen on my face or the orgasms that rippled through my body. The clients I had been with so far had been extremely giving, and each of my releases seemed to turn them on even more.
“Very much so,” I said. “More than I had originally thought.”
Her fingers reached toward my face and brushed a piece of hair away that had stuck to my lip. “Why don’t you plan on coming in a little early during one of your shifts next week. We’ll have a late lunch and chat.”
“Lunch sounds nice.”
“Remember, Cee: you’re family now. I’m always here for you.” She glanced at Sal and nodded.
Sal tightened his grip around me, and we headed to the door. I didn’t know if she was still standing behind us, watching us move through the entryway, or if she had walked away. One of Sal’s arms rested behind my neck; the other firmly circled my body so I couldn’t turn around. Normally I’d have been curious if I’d held her gaze for as long as she’d held mine. But tonight, I was too tired to care.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Standing on the wooden platform in the middle of the art studio, Cameron spread his legs a few feet apart and pointed his head down. Without moving his neck, he looked up and at me. His jeans were a little loose and tucked into his heavy black boots, unlaced and open. His button-down was white, with stripes that matched the navy scarf and hat that he wore. Over the last few days, he had used several different colored lights on me. I only needed one for him: red. The color set the tone of the portrait’s background: fall scenery. It had come to me in a dream: a narrow cove of trees surrounded us, their branches forming a canopy, their leaves appearing in different shades of red and orange. More leaves carpeted the path Cameron walked on. Tiny bits of light seeped through the canopy, just enough so that he wasn’t in a shadow. He moved with urgency, his face showing concern. His mouth opened as he approached me, but I woke up before any words came out. What was he going to tell me when he reached me? My piece was going to answer that.
My pencil drew the outline of his face first. I captured the contour of his cheeks, bulging just slightly under his eyes, and filled in the transition to his nose. His was flat and a bit wide, with a small dip in the middle. There was such a dramatic contrast between the light blue of his eyes, his pupils, and the whites; they were a perfect display of chiaroscuro. He looked up, his stare intense as a tiny furrow formed between his brows. I focused on one characteristic at a time, ensuring I had captured every detail before moving on to the rest of his face. I had most of it memorized…but not all.
“Do you usually start with pencil?” he asked.
I pulled my hand away from the paper, and glanced up. “Never.”
“Why aren’t you painting, then?”
I didn’t trust my hands with a brush. Not in his presence, at least. When working on something as technical as a portrait, paint was too permanent. And the way he observed, knowing the talent he possessed, made my hands shake. I didn’t want my cracks to be noticeable; he deserved more than that.
“I like to paint in private,” I said.
His eyes squinted, and his head tilted a little. “You’ve never painted with anyone?” he asked. “It can be extremely sensual. Inspiring, even.”
I had brought my paints to Dallas’s apartment once. I had a project due and I needed quiet, and Lilly wouldn’t give me any of that. I didn’t hear him come home. When his fingers wrapped around my waist, I turned quickly and the brush dropped out of my hands. It landed on his bare foot, paint splattering onto his toes. I apologized, and bit my bottom lip. He didn’t respond with words, he pulled my lip between his teeth instead, biting even harder than I had and sucking it as it stung. After picking up the brush and wetting it again, he ripped off my shirt and painted the path from my throat to my bra. The texture sent shivers throughout my body. Soon, I was covered in cardinal red…and so was he.
“No. I never have,” I said, looking down to gather my thoughts and keep my cheeks from blushing. The whole experience was still pretty fresh. “I outline and prep in class, but mostly everything else is done at home.”
“Do you have a studio, or one that you use, at least?”
I shook my head.
“Would you mind coming to mine, then? This basement doesn’t have any natural light, and I’d like to use that when I have you drop the sheet.”
“Your studio?”
He lifted his head and tipped it back a little as he grinned. “Yes. Mine, Charlie.”
In our previous sessions, I had covered most of myself in a shee
t. The thought of dropping it caused a flutter in my stomach. And the way he said my name only made the fluttering worse. Most of the men in my life called me Cee. And since Lilly had been talking even less, I hardly ever heard my full name anymore.
His mouth hadn’t closed, but his grin became even wider. “Unless there’s another place you’d rather go? Somewhere more public, maybe, where you wouldn’t mind getting naked?”
My eyes moved to his lip, and to the soul patch that was about an inch long. I took in the light dusting of scruff on his cheeks. Then my stare moved to his chest where the scarf dipped just low enough so a streak of the inked script showed. Instead of noting these details with my pencil, I sketched them in my memory.
“Charlie?”
I finally met his eyes again. “Yes?”
“Next session, my studio, or…”
I liked the way he said session.
“No—your studio will be perfect. Now stop distracting me or we’re going to be here for a few more hours.”
His brows furrowed again as a small laugh escaped his lips.
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
A breeze rushed across my naked body. Coldness followed, hovering over my skin, filling my veins, sinking deep into my stomach. Every pore closed; the hairs that hadn’t been waxed stood up straight. My eyes sprang open and my back flew off the mattress. The sheet was on the floor; my only window was closed, and I hadn’t yet replaced my broken fan. A layer of sweat covered my skin. My intuition told me the gust hadn’t come from something.
It came from someone.
I filled my lungs several times, exhaling until they were empty, and swung my legs out from beneath me. I gripped the edge of the mattress, squeezing, preparing, while my feet hit the floor. With my cell phone tucked under my fingers, pushing nervously into my palm, I walked down the hall to Lilly’s room. Stopping in the doorway, I leaned against the frame, and tried to slow my heartbeat. The feeling hadn’t left my body; it was stronger. My organs felt as though they were vibrating against my skeleton. Bile sloshed around my belly. My skin prickled like flakes of glass were rubbing against it.
Her lids were closed, her skin an ashen gray. The lines in her forehead appeared even deeper, the redness around her eyes was worse than normal. I didn’t have to touch her.
I already knew.
My back found the wall in the hallway, pressed up against it, and I slid down its length. I wrapped my arm around my knees, tucked my head inside, and held the phone to my ear. It took only two rings.
“She’s…” The knot in my throat made it difficult to speak. That didn’t explain why I was having such a hard time thinking, or why I had called Dallas and not the police. “She’s dead.”
“Did you call 9-1-1?”
“No,” I whispered. I knew she couldn’t hear me, but I wanted her to be at rest.
“I’ll be right there. We’ll call them together.”
I crushed the phone against my mouth, but I didn’t say anything.
“Charlie?”
“Yes,” I said.
“I don’t want you to look at her again. I want you to go downstairs and wait for me there, OK?”
I reminded myself to breathe. “OK.”
“Shut the door to her room now.”
I stood, but I kept my face pointed toward the kitchen, and closed her door. When it clicked in place, I moved down the hallway, my feet stepping on the old puke stains. Touching them didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“Now grab a pair of shoes from the floor in your room,” he said, “and I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“OK.”
“Charlie?”
“Yes?”
“It’s going to be all right. You’re going to be all right.”
“OK.”
***
Once we got inside my apartment, Dallas kept the front door open for the police and paramedics. We had called them on our way up the stairs. His fingers intertwined with mine. His were warm, maybe even a bit sweaty…so were his arms, his neck and his cheeks. He lived about ten minutes away, but it had only taken him four and a half to get here. I’d counted the seconds.
His grip tightened around me as the sound of our footsteps filled the hallway. I felt myself falling into him, letting him carry most of my weight. We stopped a few feet from her bed. He pulled me closer, wrapping his body around me from behind. His breath touched my neck. I felt nothing, not a tingle, or a spark, or warmth. But I felt the wetness from my eyes, dripping toward my mouth.
“Her expression hasn’t changed,” I whispered.
I didn’t expect it to. I had hoped it would, that her eyes would open, air would fill and release from her lungs.
“At least she isn’t in pain anymore,” he told me.
The doctor at the hospital had warned me that she wouldn’t be living much longer; so had the nurse who came to our apartment once a day. I had witnessed Lilly’s decline, watched her light fade a little more each hour. And there were undeniable signs more recently: the increase in her medication, the way her skin changed color, the way she had practically stopped eating. I knew it was going to happen…and yet, I still wasn’t prepared. I wasn’t able to process the face of death, unable to truly believe that a lifeless body was resting before me. I wanted to capture yesterday, to hold onto it and remember the details, because today had moved so fast.
“And she isn’t suffering.”
I wouldn’t ever hear her voice again, the nagging or yelling, or the soft moments when I tried to find the love in her tone. I wouldn’t have anyone to care for, no medication to prepare, mouth to wipe, or body to scrub. I had no one to parent. There was no one to parent me.
“She’s in a better place,” he said. “I hope you believe that.”
I was on my own. Orphaned. And even with everything that had happened between Lilly and me, it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted her here. I wanted a mom.
“I also hope you know that she loved you.”
Loved?
I couldn’t remember the last time that word had left my mouth or hers. And now, it never would again.
I turned around, looking into Dallas’s eyes. “How do you know she loved me?”
“She told me.”
“What?”
“After I gave her the meds, we would talk for a few minutes before she fell asleep. She told me I was lucky to have you.”
I had told her Dallas and I weren’t together. She must not have believed me. Maybe she wanted to believe that I was nothing like her, and that I would only sleep with men I cared about. Or maybe she wanted to believe that I would never be alone. I’d never know. I didn’t even know if I really cared. I was more like Lilly than I wanted to admit.
“I can’t believe she talked to you about me,” I said.
“She knew she wasn’t a good mother to you. It ate at her.”
I stepped forward, shaking his hands off my body, and curled my arms around my stomach. “She said that?”
“She had a lot of regrets. The way she treated you was one of them.”
“But why didn’t she tell me that?” I felt my voice start to rise. “Even when she was dying, why didn’t she tell me that she loved me? That she was sorry? That…”
“Would it have mattered?”
I glanced between Dallas and Lilly. “I don’t know. I think so. I think I needed to hear those words.” My eyes stopped on Lilly and stared at her face. “I still can’t believe any of this. That she’s in this room with us…not breathing.”
And I couldn’t believe that Dallas was here, in my life—my personal life. Or that Lilly had never confided in me, yet she had shared so much with him.
“Middlesex County Police,” a man said, from the kitchen.
“We’re back here,” Dallas shouted. “In the bedroom.” His arms wrapped around my waist again and he pulled me to his side. “We can talk about this later, I promise. Right now, you need to say good-bye to your
mom.”
I shook my head. I wanted to know more, the intimate details that for years I had yearned for but had no one to ask. I wanted a piece of her, the piece that she had given to him, and to all the men who had so briefly entered her life.
The cop joined us, standing at the side of Lilly’s bed. More voices came from the kitchen.
“Can we have just a few more minutes?” Dallas asked him. “She really needs a chance to say good-bye.”
“Just a few,” the cop said as he moved into the hallway.
Dallas turned toward me; his hands went to my cheeks. “It’s time, Charlie. If there’s something you want to say, you have to do it now.”
I swallowed and nodded, then stepped out of his grasp and took a few paces forward. I teetered along the edge of the bed, placing my hands on hers. Her ice covered my sweat. I didn’t know what to say, not during a moment like this. Bringing up our past didn’t feel right…and I didn’t want to say something just because she was dead; I wanted to mean my words, to remember them, to be able to think back to this memory and not have any regrets. I couldn’t make any promises. But I could tell her that I would try to be more than she’d ever been. I believed that was what she had wanted.
Good-bye, Mom were the words I’d planned on using when Emma and I went off to college. After the chance had disappeared, I never believed I would say them again—especially not at twenty-three, in our apartment, holding her cold hand in mine.