Pandora Wild Child

by Sunniva Dee

  “He spent too much time on you last night,” he continues. “Leon always keeps his girl close, but yesterday he sent his latest squeeze home. Tread carefully around him, okay?”

  Christian seems like a nice guy, and I’m happy for Shannon, but the stuff he says sounds like something straight from a movie. The urge to giggle is overwhelming.

  Either way, I’m not interested in guys at the moment. I can’t even handle my one-nighters with Dominic and concentrate on classes at the same time. I’m freaking daydreaming about him!

  My phone buzzes. It’s a tense, stress-filled sound. Even without individualized ringtones for texts, my instincts have never led me wrong with Mom.

  “Sorry. Gotta take this one so they don’t have a meltdown.”

  “Parents?” Christian retreats on the balcony and twists to smile at me from the door.

  I nod slowly. “Yup.”

  “Hello.” I sound whiny, and Mom doesn’t like the attitude on display. No need to weather her complaints alone, I figure, so I follow Christian to the kitchen where the others wait. I switch to Disney-happy, but Mom only partially buys it.

  As much as I hate school talk from her, I’m relieved to hear her move on to grilling me about classes. Yes, they go well. Sure, teachers are okay.

  Mica builds a big ol’ sandwich, and my stomach rumbles at the sight. She smirks when she hears me answer Mom’s question about new friends from my classes. It’s like I’m in first grade.

  “Tell her you’ve had a new pal sleeping over already.” Mica bats her lashes.

  “Shut. Up,” I mouth back, and she laughs heartily.

  “Is that Mica?” Mom asks.

  “Mmyeah. She’s being silly again.” Mom’s soft spot for Mica makes no sense, since most of the trouble I got into in high school had Mica’s fingerprints on it.

  Destiny comes to my rescue. “Give her a break, Mica.” She says it with a forgiving grin, though, and I forget to concentrate on my parental interrogation when Mica smiles back; they’re literally beaming at each other.

  What the hell?

  “So, Dad is considering a visit next weekend,” Mom says and I’m back, so back in the conversation.

  “Mom—I love you, but I don’t have time. Tons of homework and stuff, and… next weekend we have a—”

  I’m grasping for straws, eyes flickering nervously and settling on Shannon.

  “A philosophy excursion,” she says. I repeat her suggestion automatically and realize too late how dumb it sounds. Clutching the chattering phone, I throw my arms out at her in a “what-the-frick” gesture, and Mica’s bent over laughing.

  Yes, Mother. We’re going to Ancient Greece.

  Once my mom hangs up, I’m done. With her and with homework—everything boring.

  I want to go out.

  Christian has the night off and suggests we head to a small bar a block away called The Blood Bank. “Gross,” Shannon mumbles, eyeing the décor. Every surface, picture frame, and piece of knick-knack is red; even the bartenders wear scarlet uniforms.

  Christian knows the employees, so they brush off the fake ID Shannon tries to show them.

  I’m the only one drinking tonight. The others stick with Cokes and Shirley Temples—even Mica. I keep it to a few beers, but before we head home at midnight, I put in a fake lap dance for Shannon and break a table.

  Sam, the cutish bartender, is cool. He winks and agrees the table should have supported me just fine. I wasn’t even dancing on it; all I did was lead a toast in honor of college life.

  On the walk back to the apartment, Destiny and Mica link me between them.

  “Geez, do guys here have a thing for rowdy children or what? You got away with murder with that bartender,” Destiny explains, like I need to hear this.

  “Not!” I haven’t decided what I disagree with most: the murder or the rowdy-child part.

  “Some like them wild.” Christian ambles behind us, an arm around Shannon. I know whom he’s talking about—

  “Like Leon, for instance. Be careful, Pandora. At least make sure not to be alone with him. Stick with your friends.”

  Great, cue in my besties.

  “Oh right, like the other time.” Mica shoots in, her voice lowering with annoyance.

  “Yeah, you can’t do that again. What if Dominic weren’t one of the good ones?” Destiny’s stare penetrates me from the side.

  “Bah, I’ve said I’m sorry…”

  “What did she do?” Christian asks Shannon.

  “She told us to wait at the exit while she went to use the restroom at Smother. Only she didn’t. You had introduced her to Dominic five minutes before—”

  “Nu-huh, that happened hours earlier.”

  “Yeah, whatever! Then, she took off through the window with him. We didn’t know where she was until she texted Mica at four a.m.”

  Christian lets out a puff of air behind me. It sounds ominous. “Wow. So, you could have been raped, killed, or kidnapped.”

  I really don’t like this conversation.

  “You guys are worse than my parents.” I try to free myself from Mica and Destiny, but they both tighten their grips.

  “Holy crap,” Mica barks out. “Trying to stop you from dying is being worse than your mom now?”

  “Shit! Just—enough, already.” I’m getting claustrophobic. Ever since the first time Dad grounded me in my walk-in closet—

  Fuck.

  My lip quivers.

  “Just shut up,” I mumble.

  Destiny sees how I am. She always notices before anyone else. “Okay—okay, Pandora. Calm down. We worry is all. Mica, let go.”

  Mica listens but crosses her arms, angry. She stomps ahead and punches in the code for the front door.

  With the back of my sleeve, I dry my face. My makeup is running. Oh well. Destiny produces a neatly folded handkerchief from her pocket and dabs at me too.

  Tonight, I pull my stash of fresh light bulbs out from under my bed. I prop the box up on my chair and swivel it toward me so I can see it. I let my gaze caress each still-wrapped bulb: 60-watts, 45-watts, and 25-watts. My favorite is the giant 90-watter I’ll never use. It’s so bright, though, I know it is. I exhale my relief.

  I leave the lamp on my nightstand lit when I go to sleep. Even though the darkness in this room will never be as thick, as suffocating as in my closet at home.

  Free.

  The next weeks pass by quickly. The others slip into an easy routine involving classes, study groups at the library, and computer labs. My friends thrive here. So do I, even though I don’t make it to school all that often.

  My classes start late, eleven a.m., but my energy level doesn’t skyrocket until about three in the afternoon. From then and on, I can’t slow down. Don’t want to slow down.

  Generally, I catch the last snippet of my morning course before I work out at Nonstop Fitness. A couple of times a week, Shannon accompanies me, while I go almost every day. The exercising keeps Scheuermann under control, and I’m pleased that I haven’t needed the pain medicine since the first week in Deepsilver.

  I rarely run into Dominic at the gym. When I do, I give him a curt nod and look away, because I don’t like the way he makes me feel. I do… and I don’t.

  That first time at the gym when he cornered me, I’d been absolute putty in his hands. Jesus Christ, who knows what I could have agreed to right there on the spot.

  In the beginning, he tried small talk, but he took the hint quickly. Now, we have a secret understanding. Outside of the Elysium Spa, we’re not close.

  But on his massage bench, I melt. My shield shatters, and I am open to him. Dominic always gives me more than the hour my parents pay for, and warm, strong hands slide over my bare skin in exactly the way he’s paid to do.

  Still, there’s an electricity in the room when he’s near. My heart accelerates instead of slowing down. And sometimes, when I can’t help the way my insides clench for him, my breath stutters.

  My response never g
oes unnoticed; for an instant, Dominic’s hands freeze. Then, they resume their beautiful dance over me.

  When I am starved for him, I flip on the bench and I shut my eyes at first because sometimes, sometimes, I am shy. Dominic doesn’t speak. Through thin slits under my lashes, I watch him watch me.

  Some days, his breath coasts light over my face before he kisses me.

  Today, Dominic massages my shoulders. I am bare, face up, and I know he can see my nipples harden. I want him to.

  “Pandora,” he whispers, “I can’t do this here.”

  I don’t answer, and he stops massaging me. His hands caress me. Glide over the ridges of my ribs until they brush the sides of my breasts.

  I’ve got to get my shit together. My life’s a mess, and I love it, fear it, hate it. I’m driving him crazy. Driving myself crazy, but it is what I allow myself. For these few hours a week are my respite, when Dominic’s hands quiet my mind.

  One day, he tells me that he wants me.

  She did it again. Every time she does, it gets harder. From the back room of the spa, I watched her come in with her hair windblown and wild down her back. In seconds, I got that feeling, the one reminding me of how much I want her.

  We don’t talk once I have her on my bench. After eight weeks, her body is familiar. Each muscle and tense knot calls out, craving me. She craves me.

  Her waist. I work from her neck and down, and at her midriff, I can’t help digging my fingertips into the silky flesh for my own sake.

  Today her breathing changes again, instantly causing my chest to tighten. Fuck. I can’t. Can’t let her get to me like this. And then she does it. Pandora turns unhurriedly on the bench so she faces me, her beautiful breasts wiggling and settling against her chest.

  Can I resist today? The taut belly lined with subtle muscle. The rounded outline of ribs.

  She’s so fucking gorgeous.

  I touch her just for me, not to make her muscles less tense or to alleviate the pain from her disease.

  “I want you,” I whisper too quietly for her to hear.

  Her lips. The soft curl at the corners of her mouth, so different to her wide party grin at Smother. Those lips slide open in a short inhale as I move up to caress her breasts, knead them, feel the aureole contract to hard nubs in my hands.

  Yes, this is for me. But when she arches to fill my palms, it’s for her too. Today I can’t stop; I lower my head and suck on those pink lips. Enjoy the hot, minty air puffing into my own mouth from her response.

  It’s a moment of weakness.

  She doesn’t turn every day, and I’m glad. This girl would be the death of me.

  Like with all my customers, once her time is over, I straighten. I murmur my goodbyes and see-you-laters. Pandora’s irises gleam in the dull light before her eyelids slide shut again.

  “Bye, Dominic,” she says, and I don’t like to hear those words from her.

  Tonight, I stalk down the hallway after I leave Pandora to get dressed. Halfway to the reception, Miss Geraldine blocks me, arms crossed. She’s got her mouth twisted into a dissatisfied grimace, distorting her otherwise pretty features.

  “Dominic, you need to stop doing this,” she whispers to keep the exchange from customers in nearby rooms.

  “What?” I ask. My dick’s painfully hard, and I adjust myself freely in front of her. She doesn’t acknowledge the move but frowns at my reply.

  She tips her flinty stare up at me. “Don’t act stupid. Whenever Pandora Cancemi comes in, you spend an hour and a half with her instead of fifty minutes.”

  I step into the missus so she moves backward. “Seventy-five minutes.”

  She gasps at my admission. “I don’t pay you to waste time, Dominic. I’m giving her to someone else if you can’t stay on schedule.”

  The bell of her hips hit the doorframe of the kitchen when I inch closer. I sink my hands into them and maneuver her inside.

  “No. I keep her pain free. I know her body.”

  God, yes. I know her body.

  Miss Geraldine recognizes my expression, and her breathing becomes shallow. “Dominic, we’re short staffed. You need to get back to work. In this very moment, five clients are lined up in the waiting room, thanks to you.”

  “Sure, blame me,” I murmur. I shut the door with one hand, scoot a chair under the silver lever. “I’m here every day, Ger, because we’re short staffed.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she pants, while I free her of the pink spa apron. I ignore her command. The T-shirt and lacey bra hit the floor too.

  “Your lack of employees is why I don’t have a life.” A growl burns in my throat. “It’s why I wasn’t at home in Stowden this summer.”

  I’m mad.

  Horny as hell.

  I lift Miss Geraldine’s pillowy tits between us before I squeeze her to me, rub myself against her body.

  “You needed a job, Dominic.”

  “And you made it clear no position would be waiting for me if I left for the summer.”

  Since her eyes are hooded, breath ragged, I just roll her skirt up. Rip the panties.

  Geraldine lets out a muffled squeal. “What’s with you tonight? That girl got to you, didn’t she?”

  I look her over while I kick my jeans and shoes to the side. Geraldine’s bare slit awaits. She’s squirming, wondering what I’ll do to her.

  When I plunge in, rock her fast against the fridge, she has her answer. No finesse, just a raw sprint to the finish line. As always, she comes before me, though, and her contractions tip me over into the release I’ve craved for an hour.

  Afterward, I set her down carefully. I hand her the bra, toss her panties in the trash.

  “Yeah,” I puff out. “She gets to me.”

  A flicker of distress darkens Geraldine’s eyes, but none of her typical retorts fly out. I’m done dressing before she is and ease out the door without glancing back.

  “It’s one hour from now on, you hear? Sixty minutes max, Dominic.” Geraldine’s business-like, authoritative tone cuts through and makes me picture her seated half naked behind a big office desk. Geraldine is hot for a forty-something.

  Before I head off to pick up a new customer, I consent with a short “Yes, ma’am.”

  I’m not at Smother as much as I used to be. Work, studies, and the phone calls home consume my time. Plus, it’s midterms next week. I’m prepared, of course. I owe it to my sweet grandma to maintain my As. Not that it’s difficult when you live and breathe this stuff.

  At Smother, I keep my distance from Pandora, unless she seeks me out or gets herself into trouble. Thankfully, Leon has been MIA most of the semester. Business goes well for him, Christian tells me, so he’s working out a deal on a club, identical to this one, two towns over in Talco. Christian is quite the assistant manager in his absence.

  Tonight, I head over after my workout. I’m worn out, but Pandora’s well-being concerns me. It’s Saturday, and I’m sure she’ll be there. I’ll stay clear as usual. Grab a drink and chill in the far corner of the counter where Christian camps out on breaks.

  I spot her right away. She’s not on-her-ass yet, which surprises me, considering it’s almost one a.m.

  “Leon should pay her,” Christian laughs as Pandora sways her hips, glass lifted high. Some guys she only partly acknowledges, crowd her. They grin and clink their drinks with hers.

  “I mean, she’s here every night—even more than my girl.” Christian gives Shannon a squeeze. “She knows everyone. I swear she can work this place into a frenzy on her own.”

  I nod and fold my hands around the cold beer. “Yeah, I know. Alcohol all she’s on? Besides her Scheuermann meds,” I add awkwardly to Shannon.

  She flashes me a swift smile. “Yep, she doesn’t need anything else. Pandora used to have ADHD as a kid, and she’s got enough left in her to be hyper when she wants.” Shannon tinkles out a laugh she ends with a frown.

  I shrug, my attention drawn back to Pandora on the dance floor. Face glowing and
eyes glittering, she rocks out. Swings up another jingling toast. Cheeks flushed with excitement, she waves for Shannon to join her.

  “C’mere!” she mouths, the words not reaching through the music. Shannon shakes her head, fingers laced with Christian’s.

  Pandora’s come-hither swat becomes faster, more insistent, but in the midst of it, her gaze floats in my direction until she discovers me. She stops waving and turns her back to us. Dances.

  “Crème de menthe?” I ask Shannon, who bursts out laughing.

  “No, not tonight. I think we’re okay. She’s having wine.”

  “You going home soon?” I’m blunt, but Shannon and I have an agreement—we both want her safe.

  “Yeah, Christian’s off in thirty. He’s got his minions on the late shift tonight.”

  “All right, then. Call me if you need anything,” I say to Christian. Shannon knows I mean her. I flick a glance at Pandora as I leave, but she’s not looking.

  I’m curled up on my bed with the blankets swirled around me. In sleep, I’m unprotected. The darkness chokes me, clawing icy witch nails into my scalp and poisoning me with flashbacks:

  Snap.

  My father’s face vanishing behind the door he slams on me.

  Snap.

  Stifling blackness draining all oxygen from the closet.

  Snap.

  The howls I produce and the thunder of my fists against the wall.

  Snap.

  The muted despair when survival instinct forces me to control the panic—

  —because if I don’t, if I don’t, he keeps me there forever.

  I jerk up in bed and push free of the past. I’m awake now, out of reach. I grasp for the lamp and tap until it’s bright, so bright, and I feel my smile quiver on my mouth. Almost blinding me, this orb created from the thinnest glass shrinks my demons. But when it dies—when it’s removed… it has the power to fuck. Me. Up.

  I groan, a feeble effort to drown my thoughts.

  The apartment is so quiet. At three a.m., everyone sleeps but me. I am by myself. My thoughts spin. I think about my life and how messed up it is. How I’ll fail my classes because I don’t study. Fifteen voicemails from Dear Mother make me want to chuck the phone out the window.