The Firefly Effect

by Gail, Allie

  “You can always go a shade more subtle with it. Take the crudeness down a notch.”

  He’s still watching me intently and I resist the urge to squirm in my seat. This is quite a riveting conversation. I should let well enough alone, but of course I don’t. I’m rather enjoying this. “What do you suggest?”

  “Hmm...” The errant finger trails languidly across his bottom lip again and my eyes follow it in fascination. “He would probably start by telling her what he wants to do to her.”

  “And what does he want to do to her?”

  “It’s your story, Miss Lane. What do you suppose he wants to do to her?”

  “That’s a very good question.” I watch the movement of his finger hypnotically. “The problem is, I’m not sure.”

  “I would imagine that the first thing he wants to do is strip her down to nothing. He wants to hold that beautiful body close to his. Feel her soft breasts against his skin. Let her touch him, so she knows the extent of his arousal.”

  Dear Lord, it’s getting hot in here. “And then?”

  “This is only speculation, you understand. But I would also imagine that he is aching to spread her thighs and slide his fingers inside, to find out if she’s as wet and ready as he believes her to be. Now we get the female character’s point of view. Is she wet, Melanie? Is she ready to be taken?”

  “I imagine she must be,” I rasp. “Yes.”

  “But this action distracts him from his ultimate goal, of course.”

  My face might be flushed, but my hands feel ice cold when I clench them in my lap. “How so?”

  “Now he knows he has to taste her.” The dark eyes become cloudy as he slides across the desk, so close I can feel his breath on my cheek. “He can’t prevent himself from teasing her with his tongue. Just enough to bring her close to the brink, so he can feel her thighs clenching and quivering against his shoulders. He needs for her to lose control. To forget every name in the world but his. He wants to hear her pleading for him to take her, fuck her, hard and fast and now. Now.” That last word is whispered.

  I wet my lips nervously. “And does he?”

  “Oh, yes.” His smile is slow and deliberate. “He most certainly does.”

  Of course he does. God, I am so going to need a cold shower after this. Not that it’s likely to help much. “Tell me. You mentioned an ultimate goal. What might that be?”

  “Intense pleasure. For both of them. His own gratification hinges on the pleasure he can give his partner. More than anything, he wants to watch as she succumbs to the most mind-blowing orgasm of her life. He wants to know that he was the one who brought her there and back. This is what he finds most satisfying. This is what sends him over the edge.”

  Sitting back in my chair, I release a deep breath. “Wow. You’re right. That is…way better than the direction I was taking.”

  His eyes close briefly, then slowly reopen. The languid gesture reminds me of a sleepy cat. “Mm. For a writer, your imagination is lacking in certain areas, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll…be sure to work on that.” I don’t even possess the decorum to be offended.

  “Do you like seafood?”

  Seafood? What the hell does that have to do with anything? “Uh…yes,” I warily admit. “I do.”

  “Good. Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight? It’ll probably be the last decent evening we have for a while.”

  What is he talking about – the last decent evening? Oh, wait. The weather. Funny how I keep forgetting about that. He’s very distracting. “Okay. Sure.”

  “Seven o’clock?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “All right then.” He straightens and gives me a dazzlingly wicked smile. “I’ll leave you to your work.”

  Then he’s gone, and I’m left wondering what just happened here.

  I glance at the clock in the corner of my computer. It’s only two-thirty and I have plenty of time to get something accomplished before I need to shower and start getting ready.

  But I cannot, for the life of me, force myself to concentrate.

  I don’t write a single damn word all afternoon.

  Senior year – graduation day

  “Melanie Kristine Lane.”

  Flashing a bright smile as my name is called, I walk across the stage to receive my coveted diploma. It’s hard to believe that this one day is what we’ve all been striving for. All the homework, all the long nights of studying, all the mornings we had to literally drag ourselves out of bed to go sit in a classroom with a bunch of people who didn’t want to be there either. It’s finally over. College will be a whole new world for us. Nothing will ever be the same again.

  I accept my diploma as a camera flashes to my left. So this is it. An official-looking piece of paper tucked inside an engraved vinyl holder. This is what we worked so hard for. This is the culmination of twelve years.

  It’s exciting to be graduating, sure, but also a little bittersweet. Because those other people – the ones I argued with, shared secrets with, laughed and sometimes cried with – they are also my history. They are the kids I grew up with. They are the ones I pushed on the playground swings and swapped desserts with in the cafeteria and cheered with on the sidelines of the football games. They saw me at my best. They saw me at my worst. They were there through all of it.

  Whether they were in my immediate circle of friends or not, I got used to seeing their faces every day.

  How many will forget my name? How many names will I forget?

  Now we are all set free to be scattered to the winds, each of us following our own personal ambitions. Chasing our individual dreams. It’s a sobering thought. Almost scary, in a way. Am I ready to move on? Am I ready to face independence?

  Instead of heading immediately into the crowd of spectators to find my parents, I linger backstage in the wings to catch my breath. I just need a moment alone. It’s been a long week and this day has been so overwhelming. For some crazy reason I feel like I’m about to start crying and I don’t even know why. What is wrong with me? Everyone else is so happy. Why do I feel so funky?

  Maybe it’s just my period making me overemotional. Talk about timing. Stupid Aunt Flo always seems to show up when it’s most inconvenient. Yesterday she popped in four days early so as not to miss my graduation. It never fails, does it?

  Someone leans against the wall beside me and when I look up, I’m surprised to see that it’s Shane Becker. He’s already removed his cap and gown and is holding them in one arm. It’s obscene how strikingly handsome he’s become. He’s dressed nicely too, in a pair of khaki slacks and a light plum shirt that brings out his eyes. Sometimes he still wears his glasses but apparently tonight he opted for the contacts.

  I say nothing. I haven’t had much to say to him since he spread that nasty rumor about me last year. I still haven’t figured out why he would say such a sick thing. Herpes – seriously? Does he really hate me that much? I don’t think I deserved that.

  I deliberately avoid looking at him again, but when he speaks I have no choice but to acknowledge his presence.

  “Why so sad, Felony?”

  His voice sounds upbeat. Of course it does – like any normal person, he’s glad this day has finally arrived. A small sigh escapes me. What’s the point of still being mad? It all seems so unimportant now.

  “I’m not. I was just…thinking.” I pull off my graduation cap and center my concentration on wrapping the tassel around one finger.

  “What were you thinking about?”

  “I don’t know. How different everything is going to be now.”

  The dusky eyes assess me curiously. “That’s a good thing, though. Right?”

  “I guess so.” I don’t sound convincing, even to myself.

  “You’re not sure?”

  I merely shrug. No, I’m not sure. I think that’s the whole problem.

  “Hey.” His voice drops to a soft murmur. “You’re not crying, are you?”

  “No.” I blink b
ack the mist in my eyes, still avoiding his gaze.

  “Are you okay?” He actually sounds concerned. I’m uncomfortably reminded of last year’s prom. He was so sweet one minute and the next, he’s basically telling my date I’m a disease-ridden slut.

  “I’m fine,” I snap at him sharply.

  I expect him to leave me alone after that but he remains where he is, leaning against the wall beside me, saying nothing. What does he want? Why doesn’t he go away?

  “Does it bother you that we’ll never be coming here again?” I find myself blurting.

  “Here? To school?” Now he’s looking at me as if I’ve lost my mind, and probably rightfully so. “Uh…definitely not.”

  I fiddle with the tassel some more.

  “Are you freaked out because everything is changing?”

  I shake my head uncertainly. But the truth is, he’s pretty much nailed it.

  “Change isn’t always a bad thing, you know. In this case, I think it’s safe to say that life can only get better from here.” Apparently my restless fidgeting is getting on his nerves, because he calmly reaches down and removes the cap from my hands.

  I finally have no excuse not to look up at him, and when I do I wish I hadn’t. His eyes are holding me in some kind of magnetic pull. They’re so beautiful. They look like chips of burning coal. “It’s weird to think that one day we’ll have all forgotten one another.”

  “You won’t forget me, Melanie Lane. That I can guarantee.”

  I’m caught completely off guard by his kiss. It’s the last thing in the world I ever would have seen coming, and it happens so fast I don’t have time to protest. One second he’s standing there looking at me, and then before I know it he’s leaning in to brush his lips against mine in a way that’s surprisingly gentle. It also surprises me how willingly I respond. Oh, my…he’s really good at this.

  I gasp when he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs gently on it. Oh… my arms find their way around his neck and I pull him closer. Is anyone watching? I don’t really care and clearly, neither does he. He groans softly as his mouth presses more urgently against mine, and our tongues are engaged in a battle of wills that I have no hope of winning. He tastes and feels so good, I don’t want him to stop.

  But he does, far too soon.

  “I won’t forget you, either,” he whispers against my cheek.

  Holy crap – Shane Becker just kissed me and what’s more, I liked it!

  With a playful grin, he places my cap back on my head and taps a fingertip against my lips before turning to leave. As he walks away he calls cheerfully over his shoulder, “Stay out of trouble, Felony!”

  I can’t help but laugh.

  Somehow, I know that he’s right. I couldn’t forget him if I tried.

  Still smiling to myself, I leave the wings to join my family and friends. This chapter of life is over, but surely the next one will be even better. It’s time to turn the page and start celebrating new beginnings.

  ~ Chapter Twelve ~

  I wonder how she expects me to keep my hands to myself when she looks like walking, talking temptation.

  Sitting across from me in a black floral print sundress, her loose hair flowing over bare shoulders, eyes sparkling like cut jewels, she radiates enough sex appeal to throw any man’s pulse into overdrive. I know she’s got mine accelerating. She’s already secured a number of interested glances from some of the male patrons in the restaurant, much to my chagrin. Do they not see that she’s here with me?

  Funny thing is, she doesn’t even seem to notice.

  She’s finishing up her Oysters Rockefeller, which is a good thing because I was done eating five minutes ago and now my foremost thought is how much nicer that pretty dress would look lying in a heap on the floor. I’d like to order her a second rum runner but the first glass is still half full. I get the feeling she doesn’t imbibe much. Yes, I am actually contemplating the merits of getting her tipsy. It would be quite something to find out what happens when all her inhibitions are stripped away.

  After last night’s brief interlude, I can only imagine. I wish she would lighten up and relax. Trust me a bit. So far tonight, she’s been frustratingly taciturn.

  That’s always been my problem with her. I can never tell what she’s thinking.

  “Are you going to have to board up our windows?” she asks, noting the plywood covering the plate glass. Both sides of the Lazy Heron’s entrance have already been secured in early preparation. It feels weird eating in here with most of the windows boarded up. The ambience in the restaurant resembles a scene from a zombie apocalypse movie. One with really great Cajun pasta.

  “No need,” I reassure her. “The house has hurricane shutters.”

  “Oh, that's right! I completely forgot. Leah texted me earlier and asked if I'd close them.”

  “I'll take care of it in the morning.”

  She traces a smiley face in the condensation on her glass before lifting it and taking a dainty sip. “Do you think the pier’s still open?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Would you like to go see?”

  “I thought it might be nice. We could leave your car here and walk over, couldn’t we? Work off some of this food.”

  I wouldn’t mind a good sweaty workout myself. Probably not the same thing she has in mind, though.

  “Wouldn’t you like another drink first?”

  “No, thanks. I’m good.”

  “How about some dessert?”

  A whisper of a smile flits across her lips and for a moment I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing I am.

  “Maybe later.”

  Oh, yeah. She’s thinking it, the naughty minx!

  “Well. Ah…are you ready to go, then?”

  “Yes. If you are.”

  I pay the check, waving off her rather insulting suggestion that we go Dutch, and accompany her out of the restaurant into the night. It’s become breezy since this morning. The air is fresh and the light wind carries a fragrant, salty coolness. Maybe the storm will stay on its northwesterly track and we’ll end up with nothing more than a good soaking.

  The threat of an impending monsoon doesn’t seem to be deterring anyone from the beach. I had assumed the area would be deserted tonight, but the parking lot for the pier and boardwalk leading to the beach looks to be surprisingly full. I can see it from where we are on the sidewalk. The pier is little more than a stone’s throw from the Lazy Heron.

  “Feels nice out tonight,” Melanie comments.

  “The calm before the storm.” I smile to myself, thinking how well that old adage describes our current situation. And I don’t just mean the weather. “Tell me something. Leah said you were staying here until March, right?”

  “Yes. I mean, I was planning on it.” Folding her hands behind her back, she twists them together while giving me an anxious look. “Unless…is that going to be a problem? Like I said, I didn’t know you were the one who owned the house. She never told me that.”

  “Of course it’s not a problem. I was just wondering. Where do you normally live?”

  “Oh.” Her fidgety arms relax a bit. “My sister and I were sharing a place. Actually, it was my grandmother’s house – it was left to us after she passed away. Anyway, Madelyn got engaged a couple of months ago and…well, you know how it is. Three’s a crowd. I figured they wouldn’t need me underfoot, so I was already looking for an apartment. Then I got laid off, and Leah offered this place to me since I no longer had anything holding me in Crestview.”

  “I never knew you had a sister.”

  “Yeah…Madelyn’s five years younger than me.”

  “Hm.” Funny how I’d always thought of Melanie as an only child. Maybe because I had her pegged as a spoiled brat. “And she still booted you out? Even knowing you’d just lost your job?”

  Just as I expected, she bristles in defense. “Nobody ‘booted’ me out. Her fiancé offered to buy out my half and I accepted. Actually it worked out very well for me. Now I can
concentrate on this next book without worrying about whether I’ll bring in enough royalties to pay the bills in the meantime.”

  “And what happens in March? Will you be going back to Crestview?”

  “I don’t know yet. Once I get this book submitted to my agent, I’ll start looking for another job. So it just depends on what happens with that, I guess.” Cocking her head to one side, she looks up at me with a furrowed brow. “I just thought of something. Should I be making the rent check out to you instead?”

  “No,” I tell her with a laugh. “That’s okay. I’ll just leave this arrangement between you two. She isn’t taking advantage of you, I hope?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “Are you sure? Because if she’s–”

  “I’m sure,” she interrupts with a smile.

  Damn, but that’s a beautiful sight. I’d love to see her smile at me more often.

  As we approach the pier’s entrance, I can already tell the gate is closed. Once we stroll a little closer, I see a sign attached to the metal bars: Closed Until Further Notice.

  “Guess that’s that. I was afraid they might’ve already sealed it off.” I give her an apologetic shrug. “We can still walk down to the water if you want to.”

  She kicks off her sandals and reaches down to pick them up, so I take it she wants to.

  “Okay.” As she straightens, the breeze catches her hair, sending it dancing in wisps across her cheek. Something about the vulnerable way she looks right now makes me want to take her in my arms and keep her there. She’d be a hard one to let go.

  Now that’s a scary thought.

  Fuck – what is it about this girl? Even after all these years, she still has the craziest effect on me.

  I slip off my own Birkenstocks and hold them in one hand before reaching for hers with the other. My fingers capture her smaller ones before she can protest, and though I can feel her tense for a fraction of a second, she doesn’t pull away.

  Still – what was that about? This time last night I was balls deep inside her and now suddenly she seems almost scared to let me touch her. I wish she wasn’t so hard to read. Surely she isn’t still holding onto old grudges, is she? Those days were so long ago.