The Bookshop on Autumn Lane

by Cynthia Tennent

  An idea formed as I ate and I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

  It involved me and Kit and an electric chair.

  * * *

  “Relax. It’s all fake, nothing is going to hurt you.” I held his hand as we walked through the carnage of fake corpses and creepy things.

  “I am relaxed,” Kit said.

  “Then why is sweat rolling down your neck? It’s sixty degrees in here.”

  “I’ve been moving books all day. That’s hard work.”

  “You haven’t moved a single book in the last half hour.”

  “Hmmph.” He almost tripped on a skull. “Why am I here again?”

  “I’m giving you a private tour so you can conquer your fears. Most of this is just papier-mâché and flour.”

  The majority of Truhart was at the football game. But we had both declined to go. It was a windy night and light rain mixed with snow didn’t make the prospect appealing.

  Kit surveyed the room. “You’ve done a great job. If I were watching Macbeth I’d give you a standing ovation.”

  “Thanks. But that’s not the only reason I dragged you here. I need a little help with something.” I bit my lip. Ever since I had started cutting and hammering the electric chair, I had been obsessed with one thing: Getting Kit in it.

  “Don’t tell me. You’re finally going to bury me for suggesting you help the Triple C’s out with the house of horror.”

  “Close.” We were in the corner of the room. I pulled back a curtain. Kit expelled a deep breath. I don’t know what he expected, but it was just a wooden chair and a white sheet. We hadn’t added the scary asylum people or the blood yet. Even then the effect wasn’t complete without the flashing lights and the scary soundtrack I was helping Flo create.

  “So, this is just a chair?”

  “It is,” I said. “But it’s going to be an electric chair.”

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I need you to sit in it.”

  Kit arched an eyebrow. “That’s all? You’ve been begging me to come here all evening and you just need me to sit down?”

  “Yes.” I smiled. “I need to make sure I have the right measurements. And you can relax and forget your fears at the same time.” Only the fears I was thinking of included the fear of me.

  He stood over the chair and put his hand on the backing, testing it for sturdiness. “Looks fine to me. Let’s go.”

  “Not so fast, Professor. I need to know it’s the right size.”

  “Then can we go?” He turned around and slowly lowered himself into the chair. “All good?”

  I walked around him in a circle, picking up some of the materials I had procured earlier today. “It seems like it’s the right size. How does it feel?”

  “Shockingly comfortable.” He clasped the end of the armrest with his hands.

  “Humor. That’s the way, Professor. Now you’re relaxing.” I took a piece of thick cloth and tied it around his wrist. “See. This isn’t so bad, is it?”

  “All I need is a good book and a hot toddy.” If he only knew.

  Pulling out a pencil, I marked the correct spot on the wooden frame and knotted the material. When I finished I stepped back. His chest rose and fell and his breathing was erratic.

  “Now the other side.” I took another long scrap of cloth and did the same with Kit’s other hand. “And the feet.”

  I could feel Kit’s eyes on the back of my neck as I knelt down and tied his ankles to the frame at the bottom of the chair. “No, that’s too low. Hold still. Let me readjust this one.” I tied the length a little closer to his calf than his ankle.

  Sitting back on my heels, I tilted my head and studied the electric chair with Kit sitting in it. His mouth was open and his cheeks were flushed.

  He wiggled in the chair. “Trudy . . .”

  “How do you feel?”

  “Shocked.”

  “Do you like it?” I ran my tongue across my lower lip.

  “I’m warming up to Halloween. But—”

  I put my finger in the air. “For once, don’t think, Kit. We both need to tackle our fears.” I pulled my hair out of its bun and shook it out. “It’s getting hot. Hmm. I should probably place something across you to make sure you can’t get away.”

  I ran my hands across his chest. “I’m tired of you getting away from me.” He watched my hands and his nostrils flared.

  “What can I use to keep you right here in this chair, Kit?”

  “You.” His eyes were glazed. My seduction plan was working.

  I straddled his lap and let my lip run across his collarbone. “Are you going to be good? Or am I gonna have to make you beg?”

  “Beg?” His voice was hoarse. I ran my hands in his hair and kissed him. He tasted like toasted grain and delicious man. He strained against the bonds and arched his back trying to get loose.

  “Ah, this is what I need.” I unbuckled his belt and slid it off him. Then I backed away and wrapped it around his middle and secured him to the thin post at his back.

  I stepped between his legs. “What are you going to do now, Dr. Darling? Respect me?”

  “Maybe we should forget about respect,” he croaked.

  I leaned forward until my lips were almost touching his. His eyes widened. I raised my hand and traced a light line from his jaw to his collarbone. Slowly, I unbuttoned the first few buttons on his shirt.

  “Just a suggestion. You could do the same,” he whispered. He was looking at me with uncontrolled lust. His smooth skin felt like fire on the back of my knuckles. His uneven, husky breathing and half-lidded eyes told me all I needed to know. This was no polite act from Kit. There was no mistaking his body’s reaction. I liked the honesty. And now I knew his desire was as strong as my own.

  I lowered my head and pressed my lips to the point at the bottom of his neck where the pulse was visibly throbbing. Then I kept going, punctuating each button with a kiss. Until there was no more shirt left.

  I put my hands on his shoulders and climbed into his lap again. “Poor prisoner. Maybe you need a little lap dance before I get started.”

  I nipped him behind the ear and he growled, “I’m a fabulous tipper.”

  He buried his head in my neck and ran his tongue along my collarbone. I arched my back and rubbed myself against him. My advantage was unfair, straddling him like this. I slid down until I was on my knees.

  Unbuttoning the front of his pants. I asked, “Is it time to flip the switch?”

  His smoldering eyes were the only answer I needed.

  * * *

  Someone caressed my face. It tickled. In a good way. I smiled, thinking about the way Kit and I tripped over each other on the way to the upstairs apartment last night. The electric chair may have shocked Kit, but his performance afterward had stunned me as well. When I untied Kit . . . finally, it was to discover a whole new side of him. He was insatiable. Wild. Starving but never sated. I wasn’t as experienced as Kit thought. But something about his reaction to my seductive play was different than anything I had known. The intensity was surprising. And wonderful.

  Fingers brushed aside a strand of hair that had fallen over my eye and a cool breeze grazed my cheek. Not fingers. I opened my eyes to see something white billowing over me. The curtain.

  Strange, I hadn’t left the window open.

  I rolled onto my side and reached for Kit. It was still dark. But there was nothing beside me but a crumpled sheet and a lopsided pillow.

  “Kit?” Suddenly the bed felt too big and very empty. But it wasn’t just Kit’s absence that made a void. Moby was gone too. I had become used to him taking up half the bed.

  I rolled off and nearly knocked over my old box of condoms we’d almost used up. I padded barefoot and bare naked into the living room. “Hey, guys?” My toe bumped into a stack of books I’d forgotten about. Damn things.

  I turned on a lamp. “Where are you?”

  Well, nothing like being loved and left. And he’d taken my tempor
ary dog companion too. They couldn’t be far. Downstairs I flipped the light switch and gazed around the store. But no one was there. Not even my friendly ghost. The back door was partially open. I pulled on my tapestry coat and slipped my feet in the boots I had kicked off last night in my frenzy to undress.

  Outside, a cold wind tangled my hair. I clutched the front of the coat. The moon was low on the western horizon and a faint glow had started in the east. Mickey was somewhere in my pile of clothes. It must have been close to sunrise.

  Several early birds were beginning the day. They called back and forth in light, lilting songs. I wasn’t much for the wee hours, but this morning made me appreciate the beauty of the predawn light.

  I scanned the fields behind the store, but all I saw was the faint shadow of the tall grasses blowing in the wind. Main Street was quiet. Too early for anyone else to be awake yet. Even the traffic from M-33 was silent.

  As I walked down the middle of Main Street toward them, naked but for the coat and boots, I thought of all the things I was going to tease Kit about. I looked toward Echo Lake. I could make out movement and a faint outline at the spit of land by the shore.

  He stood on the sandy beach, his hands in the pockets of the very same pants I had removed in less than two seconds last night. His shirt hung loose and flapped in the breeze. With the dim glow of the lake behind him, he looked like an apparition.

  Moby saw me first. He jumped over a pile of driftwood someone had used for an old bonfire. Wagging his tail and his body with it, he nuzzled my hand, seeking forgiveness for leaving me in the middle of the night. Kit watched us approach with a brooding expression that reminded me of a gothic hero in a BBC film. I wrapped my arms around him. His shoulders were stiff. I took the hint and stepped back.

  He nodded toward Moby. “He needed to go out.”

  “Really. He usually has a bladder the size of a horse.”

  The wind kept playing games with my hair so I turned and faced it, freeing my hands enough to clutch my coat more tightly.

  From my vantage point I could see Kit’s profile as he stared out at the lake. He stepped back until we were yards apart.

  The silence settled over us and felt stifling.

  “So Kit—”

  “Trudy, I—”

  We spoke at the same time.

  “Sorry?” he asked.

  “Nothing. What was it you were going to say?” A heaviness settled on my chest. It was ridiculous. I didn’t care about this morning-after stuff. I was fine enjoying sex and moving on.

  I stumbled over my words. “If you don’t want to do anything else together—fine. I mean, lots of people have sex once—I mean one night.” We actually did it more than once. “Feel free to move on to someone else, one of your loyal followers—it’s all fine. It was just mutual pleasure. I don’t believe in relationships and bonds that made people speak and do things they don’t mean. I’m not like that—”

  He cleared his throat. “I was just going to say that I didn’t mean to be so—so ardent last night.”

  “Ardent?” What kind of word was that to use?

  “You know what I mean. I was just a little avid. I didn’t mean to be so . . . it wasn’t like me to be that way. I didn’t mean it to happen.”

  And there it was. Dropped like a bomb between us.

  “You regret it?”

  “Regret is a word that expresses sorrow that something happened. I don’t feel that. But I do feel that it can’t happen again. You. Me. We are here for just a short time. And we have responsibilities that don’t necessarily . . .”

  “Don’t necessarily what?”

  “They don’t fit together.”

  I tossed my head and turned toward the lake. The wind whipped my hair into tangles that would take time to comb out. I didn’t feel like looking at him. All sad and full of whatever the word was that wasn’t exactly regret.

  “Whatever. It was good. No worries.” And I thought we fit together pretty good.

  “Trudy, don’t take it the wrong way. Maybe you’ll understand in time—”

  “Time?” I laughed. “Hey, Kit. Don’t make this into a big deal. I’m no shy virgin and I was the one who attacked you in the chair. I’m here for a short time and you are too. You wanna have some fun while we’re here, I’m up for it. You want to part ways and just put books on shelves and drink tea, that’s fine too.”

  He put a hand on my bare neck. “I don’t mean to sound so cold—”

  “Don’t be silly.” I shrugged off his hand and reached down and picked up a stick at my feet. “Hey boy, go get it,” I said. I threw the stick as far on the grass behind us as I could.

  Moby ran after it and sniffed. Instead of bringing it back, he sat down and began to chew. Even the dog didn’t want to play with me. “So it’s like four in the morning or something. I’m going to try to go back to bed,” I said.

  My throat felt funny. I couldn’t say anything else. I must be losing my ability to have a proper one-night stand. I turned to go.

  “Come on, dog.” I suppose I should be grateful that the dog would come to my bed. He didn’t have to. He was as free to leave me as Kit.

  “Wait a minute, Trudy.” Kit grabbed my hand. “I don’t want you to go back alone.”

  I dug my nails into the fabric of my coat. “Don’t be polite, goddamn it!”

  “What?”

  “Stop thinking about how I feel. What do you want?” Despite my intentions, my anger was rising to the surface.

  “I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

  “I’ve been alone for the past fifteen years. I can take that. What I can’t take is your polite pity. I am not one of the ladies of this town. Don’t treat me that way!”

  “I don’t treat you like them.” His glasses caught a faint glimmer of light from the horizon.

  “Yes you do. When you act the way you think you should, instead of the way you want to—you treat me like them. You act like a fake!”

  “That is ridiculous. Did it look like I was faking it last night?”

  I poked him in the chest. “No. That felt real. Then this morning you turned back into a fraud.”

  “Being cautious and thinking something through does not make me a fraud. I’m not prevaricating.”

  “Pre—? Whatever! I just want you to be honest.”

  The wind blew his hair up. I resisted the urge to smooth it down. His shoulders slumped. “Honesty can be very complicated.”

  “I find it very simple. You start by doing and saying what you want.”

  “What I want? Ha! If you only knew. You wouldn’t be happy with me . . .” His voice trailed off in the breeze.

  I turned back to Main Street. “I should have known. You aren’t capable of being honest with your feelings.”

  “You have no idea what I am capable of.” He moved around to block my path.

  “You’re right. Because you never let anyone know.”

  “Wait. I don’t want you to go.”

  “You don’t? Why? Because you don’t want me to be alone and feel bad, my lord?”

  “No!” In the pre-glow of dawn his eyes looked black and fierce.

  “Then why, for God’s sake!”

  “Because right now I want to make love to you again. That’s what I want. I want you!”

  “You do?” I put my hands on my hips and my coat fell open.

  “I do!”

  “Then come over here and prove it.”

  He closed the distance between us in two steps, wrapping his hand around my bare hip and pulling me close with one rough movement. We collided in an exquisite crash that made my senses explode. Before I could tease him his lips were on mine in a kiss that was hard and urgent.

  If he thought he was ardent before this, he was single-minded and bold now.

  He reached down and lifted me, grinding his hips against me and forcing me to wrap my legs around him. I clung to him and arched my back, crying out when his lips travelled down my neck.

/>   Everything spun away from me; time, place, sounds. My world was Kit. In my eagerness to get his clothes off I unbalanced us. We fell backward and I braced for the impact. But Kit had me. He cushioned my fall, making the sandy beach as soft as a down pillow.

  Kit looked down at me with a satisfied smile and slowed his pace. His kisses grew softer as he peppered me with his tongue and his touch until I cried out. He took his time. He savored my body with a focus that made me feel amazing. As if I were special.

  When we came together part of me cracked open. Like a new fissure at the bottom of the ocean, Kit exposed something inside me that was ablaze like hot lava.

  With my coat spread beneath us, and the first blush of morning behind his head, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world.

  Chapter 11

  I woke up to the warmth of sunshine and Kit’s smile. “How long have you been staring at me?”

  “Since the first morning I saw you in that towel.” He kissed me on the nose and then moved to my lips. They weren’t the only part of my body that was pleasantly raw. I could feel the delightfully chaffed skin and whisker rash all over.

  When the kiss ended, Kit looked down his adorable aquiline nose with hooded morning eyes. The heat in the apartment hadn’t kicked in yet. The air was crisp and I burrowed under the blankets and snuggled, savoring the warmth and the smooth, hard places of his body. As if on cue, the grind of a garbage truck and the pounding of someone hammering next door reminded us that the morning was almost halfway gone.

  “Let’s stay in bed and forget the world outside.”

  Kit smoothed his fingertip along my brow. “I have a better idea. You finish that chair and I’ll organize the west side of the store. Then you can come to my place tonight. We’ll open a bottle of wine and relax by the fireplace.”

  “It turns me on when you get bossy like that!” I ruffled his hair.

  “We have some things to talk about—”

  “Forget the blimey talk, you silly Brit. Tea and crumpets are for talk. But wine and a roaring fire are for sex!” Then I rolled off the bed and fumbled in the closet for my clothes. For once my words had made an impact. Kit sat on the edge of the bed watching me quietly. He grabbed his pants from the floor and almost fell over as it took him several tries to get his feet in the right holes. I laughed and pulled on an old sweater and jeans.