by P. G. Forte
“Excuse me?”
“Sure. Eat the whole bunch, if you want. Or, better yet, why don’t you pass a couple of them down here to me?”
“Michael!”
Sighing, Mike stroked a hand up over my belly. I shivered at the touch. “Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he said quietly.
I bit my lip to keep from whimpering. I tried to speak, but I couldn’t make the words come out of my mouth.
Mike’s eyes glinted. A smile curved his lips. “Hmm. Didn’t think so.”
Cupping his hand over my mound, he pressed upward, pulling the flesh taut, exposing my clit. Then he used his tongue to flick the little nub, circling, stroking, over and over until I had no choice but to give in. Crossing my arms over my face, I closed my eyes. I focused on the sensations flooding through me and tried hard to let all the rest of it go.
Just give him what he wants, I told myself. Stop thinking and do it. Come for him. Let him have you. Get it over with.
It should have been easy. It shouldn’t have been anything out of the ordinary, nothing I hadn’t done a thousand times before. The heat went everywhere. My legs fell open wider. His tongue set all my nerves alight.
Then he spoiled it.
“Gosh, you’re sweet,” he murmured. Once again his hand stroked lightly over my belly, teasing, tormenting. Once again I shuddered. “I love that,” Mike breathed, sounding reverent, sounding amazed. “The way you respond... it’s so pure, so hot, it’s almost like you’ve never been touched.”
I groaned aloud. Great. Just great. What the fuck am I doing? I’m in bed with a man who says ‘gosh’. Who thinks I’m the next best thing to a virgin. Who thinks of me as perfect, for Chrissake. What happens when he finds out I’m not?
But I already knew the answer to that one, didn’t I? It was always such a long, hard fall from the top of a pedestal and it hurt like hell all the way down to the ground.
Mike’s fingers trailed circles around my navel and my body arched against his hand. Shivering harder now, I sucked in air. I dug my nails into my palms to keep from crying.
Goddamn Derek. Why’d he have to go and fall in love with that girl? What we had was perfect. We’d both gone into it with our eyes wide open, knowing just what we were getting, just what to expect. And when it ended, even though that wasn’t what I would have chosen, at least it had been quick, clean, honest. A single cut, easy to heal.
This affair with Mike could never be like that. Could never end clean or easy. Could never be anything less than a train wreck, or like taking a shotgun blast to the chest.
“You’re killing me,” I muttered.
I was only barely aware I spoke the words out loud until Mike chuckled in reply, “At least we know you’ll die happy.”
I opened my eyes and looked at him. His expression was sweet and warm and tender. I think that’s when it really hit me how big a mistake I’d made.
I’d looked forward to our appointments every other Thursday. Having Mike around--even though we’d never discussed the matter--had helped to soften the blow when Derek left me. The admiration in his gaze had soothed my wounded pride, my battered ego and, yes, even the bruises to my heart. The ones I’d sworn I didn’t feel.
What would I do when this ended; when the laughter that blazed now in his eyes died out, to be replaced with a look of loathing and disgust?
Get out now. Stop thinking. Just fuck him and leave.
I told myself I could figure it out later. I told myself that naked and on fire was no time to be making decisions that could affect the rest of my life.
“Fuck me,” I ordered, lifting my head, propping myself up on my elbows.
Mike just looked at me, the smile on his face slowly fading.
“Take me now,” I said, changing it from an order to a plea with a whispered, “Please?”
He shook his head. “Not this time.”
“Michael...”
“You had it your way last night,” he said, still refusing me. “This morning it’s my turn.”
“Meaning what?” I groaned.
“Meaning... you’ll just have to wait and see.”
“I don’t like to wait.”
He grimaced. “Believe me, I’ve noticed.”
“I don’t know what this game is you think you’re playing, Mike, but this isn’t the time for it.”
“You’re really not a morning person, are you?”
“Michael!”
”Patience,” he murmured soothingly, trailing kisses along my inner thighs. “It’ll be good this way. You’ll see. You’ll like it.”
Well, that wasn’t the problem, was it? I already liked it, just like I liked him. Too much. Liking any of it more wasn’t going to help.
I gazed at him helplessly while he slipped one finger, then two fingers inside me, gliding deep and then withdrawing.
“Mm, sweet.” He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked noisily. “Like honey.”
“More,” I pleaded.
He laughed. “Just what I was thinking.” Then he repeated the caress, dipping and sucking and dipping again, inching me closer to climax at glacial speed, until my pussy was on fire and my entire being was alive with need.
“Now.” I pumped my hips frantically, straining toward his hand. “Fuck me now.”
“So impatient,” he chided, pressing another kiss against the inside of my thigh. “See what you missed last time you were here? See why it was a mistake to call that cab?”
Oh, dear God. “Mike,” I groaned, not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry. I lay back on the bed once more and covered my eyes again. “I swear, if you don’t take me soon I’m gonna call a cab right the hell now and screw the cabbie while you watch!”
I froze. He froze. In the silence that followed my outburst, I could hear the echo of my words, could hear how they must have sounded and I wanted to throw up.
I can’t do this. I’d rather end it now than stay and see the disappointment in his eyes.
I could have tried explaining, I suppose. I could have told him that I had a bad habit of saying things I didn’t mean, that I’d simply never learned to keep my mouth shut. But, eventually, it would all turn out the same. I could see where we were headed and I would not go there. Not with him.
I don’t want to beg. I don’t need to beg. I don’t beg.
I pushed him aside and got out of bed, slipping past him without meeting his gaze.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he called after me, sounding amused. “Did I say you could get up?”
I shook my head. “Don’t start.”
“That better have been a joke about the cabbie,” he warned teasingly. “You’d better not be looking for a phone.”
I felt my shoulders start to sag and I straightened my spine. “I’m not,” I answered coolly. “I’m just looking for my clothes.”
He sat up quickly. “Claire? What’s going on? What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like I’m doing, Michael?” I replied, still not looking at him. “I’m getting dressed.”
“I can see that! But why?”
“I’ve got... things to do today. I’m pressed for time.”
He got up from the bed. “You’re not leaving?”
I nodded. “Sorry.”
“What the hell? Claire... okay, come on, very cute. Now, cut the crap. This is ridiculous. Get your ass back in bed.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, Mike. I don’t take orders from you.”
“I don’t get this,” he mumbled, pulling a pair of jeans from his dresser drawer. “What the hell just happened here? This can’t be about breakfast. What are you so upset about?”
“You! All right? You’re just... just...”
“Me?” He stopped dressing and stared at me. “You’re angry at me? What’d I do?”
“You’re much too controlling, for one thing,” I said, struggling with my voice, which had begun to shake. It didn’t so much matter if I didn’t sound calm, but
I would sound cool, I would sound collected. “I don’t think it’s gonna work out. I’m not used to being treated this way. I think this was a mistake.”
“A mistake.” Mike zipped up his jeans and fisted his hands on his hips. “Okay, fine. What’s a mistake? What are we talking about? Tell me so I can fix it.”
“You can’t fix it. It’s not that kind of thing.”
“Everything’s fixable, Claire. Most things, anyway.”
“Not this.”
“Why not?”
“Because.”
He arched an eyebrow . “Because...?”
I sighed distractedly. He looked damn good in those jeans. I don’t know why that should have mattered, or why I was even noticing. But, it was the first time I’d seen him wear them and, somehow, seeing him like that, barefoot and bare-chested, wearing nothing but a pair of softly faded jeans, only made things harder somehow. Even to my own ears, my excuses sounded feeble and weak.
“That’s it?” Mike prompted, after a moment. “That’s all the answer you got for me?”
He looked so... normal, so solid and sane. A little distracted, perhaps, a little vulnerable, but decent, warm, concerned. Patient. He looked like someone I really wouldn’t have minded getting to know better. The kind of person you could grow old with. Someone I could easily have seen myself having breakfast with every morning for the rest of my life. But I couldn’t start thinking like that. Not again.
I shook my head. “Because I’m talking about us, Mike. And I think maybe we... maybe we never should have started this.”
“What?” At that, anger flared in his eyes. Anger, disbelief, or maybe hurt. It was hard to tell at a glance and I couldn’t meet his gaze long enough to be certain.
Moving quickly, I began to toss things into my bag. “Sorry.”
“Sorry? Un-fucking-believable. And what do you mean ‘we’ anyway? Maybe you shouldn’t have started something you didn’t want to see through to the end.”
“I don’t think so.” I slid the bag’s strap over my arm and turned toward the bedroom door. “I think maybe you just don’t want to admit that this is the end.”
“Is that what you’re saying?” he demanded. “This is it? The end? You’re calling it quits?”
“Yes,” I said as I crossed the living room, intensely aware of him stalking behind me, praying he’d just let me go. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Over what? This is bullshit, Claire. You can’t just--just... what the hell? You can’t do this!”
Oh, yes, I could. “I’m sorry, Mike.” I pulled open his front door and turned to look at him. I forced a small smile. “I’ll see you Thursday, okay? Same as always?”
“Same as always? Are you kidding me?”
I shook my head, closed the door behind me and ran down the drive. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely get the car door open, could barely get it started, could barely drive.
I pulled away from the house expecting every second to see the front door burst open, to see Mike come running out of the house. I was relieved when he didn’t. Mostly relieved, except for the small, obstinate part of me that felt only disappointment. Stop me, it called out to him silently. Tell me I’m wrong. Make me stay.
But he didn’t. And that, I told myself, was Just As Well. All for the Best. A Huge Relief.
I’d made it as far as the coast before it dawned on me I didn’t know where the hell I was going.
Not to work. I’d told already told them not to expect me until Monday. I couldn’t show up before then without having to answer a lot of awkward questions that I’d rather avoid.
And not home, either. I hadn’t liked it all that much in the first place. Now that I’d seen it through Mike’s eyes, I despised it. Besides, he knew where I lived. There was nothing going to stop him from showing up there if he wanted. Nothing to stop him from making another painful scene, from running through the same fruitless argument with me over and over again until I gave up or gave in or did something stupid. Something I’d regret. Something that could only end up hurting us both in the long run.
I just wasn’t up for that kind of pain.
Digging my cell phone out of my bag, I dialed the number of my favorite spa and breathed a prayer of thanks when they told me they had a vacancy. I hung up, turned the phone off, and tossed it back in my bag. Then I turned left and headed south.
I’d give myself two days to disappear, to relax, to breathe. Two days to put myself back together.
And if that didn’t work? Then at least I’d have two days to think of something else.
* * * *
By Monday morning, I was feeling about a thousand percent better. Traffic was brutal on the drive back into the city and there seemed to be more than the usual quota of helicopters aloft. I was still feeling a little out of sorts, but at least my mind was much, much clearer--which was more than I could say for the air. The sky was hazy and brown along the horizon, a shade you rarely ever see this far west of San Bernardino.
I didn’t reach The Body Electric until shortly after noon. I found most of my staff gathered around the small TV at the receptionist’s desk. It was only then that I learned about the brush fire raging out of control.
“...almost a thousand acres already burning,” the grim-faced newscaster was saying. “...several houses have been destroyed and dozens more are in danger... authorities say area residents have been evacuated from Topanga Canyon and the neighboring communities of...”.
“Topanga Canyon?” I asked, feeling suddenly light-headed. “When did it start?”
“Yesterday, I think,” Damien replied with a shrug. “I’m surprised you didn’t hear about it. It’s been on the news all day.”
But I hadn’t been listening to the news. I’d been playing CDs on the drive in this morning, trying desperately to hold onto the serenity I’d spent two days working to find. Trying desperately not to think.
Just as now, I was trying desperately not to panic.
“Excuse me,” I murmured as I headed up to my office. My hands were once again shaking as I dialed the number for Mike’s office.
His secretary was somber but unhelpful. Mike wasn’t in. The phone lines were down in the canyon and he wasn’t answering his cell. They had no idea where he was, how he was. No one there had seen or heard anything from him since he’d left work Friday night.
I hung up the phone feeling cold and frightened. Feeling more alone than I could ever remember being.
Suddenly all the things I’d been so afraid of, all my petty, personal, everyday concerns, seemed monumentally unimportant. And my choices lately, the supposedly clear-headed decisions that I’d spent the past two days congratulating myself on making, seemed a twisted joke, a huge mistake, an absolute, total lie.
I’d convinced myself I was okay with losing Mike. If someone had to be hurt, why did it have to be me? Why couldn’t someone else take the hit--just once? Better to hurt him now and lose his friendship than to lose my heart once again; or my peace of mind, my hard-won serenity. Or any more of my money. But maybe that was only because I didn’t think I had--or even could--ever really lose him.
Until now.
Unable to sit still and do nothing, unable to work, I wandered back downstairs. I was still carrying my keys and my purse, I was still wearing my sunglasses atop my head. My stomach roiled, my skin felt cold. Unable to think, unable to settle down, I gravitated back to the TV, hoping for better news. But it seemed the situation had only gotten worse in the past few minutes.
“Hey,” Derek greeted me quietly, coming up behind me, radiating concern, comfort and support as he gently massaged my neck. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” I turned my head to look at him. He was beautiful. Tall, fit, gorgeous face, gorgeous body--any woman’s dream.
“Anything I can do to help?”
I shook my head. “No. Nothing.”
He gave my shoulders a final squeeze. “Okay, well, if you think of anything, you’
ll let me know. All right?”
I nodded, tried to smile. “Thanks, I will.” But we both knew there was nothing that he, or anyone else, could do to help.
Derek and I were friends. What I felt for Mike was something else entirely. And it had taken something like this; it had taken being faced with the possibility that he might be hurt, might be injured, might be dead to make me see that.
Fear tore up my insides with razor-sharp claws as I stood there, staring at the screen. No. Not dead. He can’t be.
“I have to go,” I said, my voice shaky and dull as I turned away from the desk and headed blindly for the door. I couldn’t stay here and wonder. I couldn’t stay here and hope. I couldn’t stay here and wait to hear... something.
I’d been wrong. I’d been stupid. And I had no idea if I could ever fix things, ever make things right. Maybe I’d never even get the chance to try.
“Hey, where are you going?” A voice called out behind me. “Claire?”
But I didn’t answer. What would I have said?
I’m going to hell.
That seemed like a good explanation and a real possibility. Either in this life or the next, I certainly deserved to suffer a stint in hell for my sins, for my lies, for my stupidity. For my cowardice.
I’d tried to save myself. I’d tried to hide from the truth, and look where it had gotten me. Now, my only hope lay in trying to face it.
Chapter Thirteen
Claire
The wind had picked up by the time I was back on the road--or maybe I just hadn’t noticed it earlier. The air was hot and dry. The sky was definitely darker. Huge, angry, bruise-colored clouds billowed and swelled to the north of the city, to the west, straight ahead. The sun was a flat, orange disc in the dull, bronze sky.
I didn’t really have a clear idea where I as headed, or what I’d find when I got there. But, as close to the canyon as I could safely get had to be the best place to search for either Mike or information about him. There had to be someone who knew where the evacuated residents might be gathered.
I got to the point where traffic was stalled and cars were being turned back much sooner than I’d expected. I had to park my car and walk to get closer, cursing my poor choice in footwear. Who knew, when I’d got up this morning, that I’d be hiking through weeds and gravel?