Restricted Release

by Sommer Marsden

  “Graphic novel like mine?”

  “Yep. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t…”

  “Have a past?”

  Before I started crying again, I moved to put the chain on the door. Second nature.

  “Do you want me to go?”

  I thought about it, moving to the dining room to draw the blinds. “No. But if you want to, I’ll understand.”

  “Can I get you anything?”

  I laughed, moving on to the kitchen as he followed. “Shouldn’t I be offering to get you something? I am a terrible hostess.”

  He took my hand as I reached to chain the back kitchen door. “No, I think you’re just rattled, Clara.”

  I sucked in a big breath and shook my head. “I’m fine. Can I get you wine?”

  “Got beer?” He grinned and I wanted to kiss him.

  “Basement fridge. Yep. A few kinds. Mostly microbrew stuff my sister brings by and insists I try. Is that okay?”

  “Sure thing.”

  “I’ll go―”

  “Clara.” He put a warm hand on my middle to still me. Instead of stilling me on the inside, it woke everything up that I’d managed to keep tamped down. “You’re naked, wearing a blanket. I’ll go.”

  He unlocked the basement door and found the switch.

  “Careful,” I sighed. “That basement is totally old school. Semi-dirt floors, low ceilings, Freddy Krueger in the corner by the boiler.”

  “So it’s like mine?” he joked.

  “Touché,” I laughed. “Forgot that part.”

  * * * * *

  Just as I’d sat in my bed with Nadia painting our nails, I sat in my bed with Matt sipping caffeine-free Earl Grey with raw sugar and milk. The TV was turned to sitcoms and the sound was way down. The blue-light flicker of the set made him look angelic as he rubbed circles on my thigh and calves with his big hands.

  “Am I being cruel to you, Clara?”

  I started when he asked me. The question so strange and yet so very much Matt-like that I didn’t know what to say. So I thought about it as I watched him polish off the bottle of beer he’d brought up. His shoes were off and his t-shirt lay flat along his belly. I studied the small hole in the knee of his jeans and the scar above his right thumb.

  “I don’t think so.” It was the best answer I had.

  “I’m not one of those men…” He slid his finger down the slope of my nose and gave a gentle stroke to my bottom lip so that I couldn’t think to do anything but kiss his fingers quickly. He smiled. “I don’t want to punish you or torture you. I’m not into topping anyone. I just thought…well I guess you could say I tend to think outside the box. I love Nadia—”

  We both felt it happen. My whole body stiffened. I couldn’t have controlled it had I wanted to, because I didn’t know it was coming.

  Matt sighed. He leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. At first I resisted, but when he kept at it, dropping gentle perfect kisses on my mouth, I gave in to what I wanted and kissed him back.

  “I love her as a friend, sweet Clara. Not anything else.” He kissed me once more and when I parted my lips, he slid his tongue along mine so that heat flowered in my pelvis. But then he pulled back and smoothed my hair down. “So I thought she might help you see…” He waved his hands around, smiled. “How beautiful you are. How you’re making a monster out of an angel. You are making yourself ugly with the power of your mind. And that is such a shame.”

  “So no spanking?”

  It caught us both off guard. The laughter was like a giant boom in a vacuum. It seemed loud and thunderous to the silent hush of sober conversation we’d been having.

  “Maybe one day if you’re good.” He put his arm around me and pulled me against his side. I could see his cock was hard from kissing me. I could see his heart jump and shiver under the sweatshirt he wore. I felt the slippery proof between my thighs that I wanted him.

  I turned, hooked my leg over his, kissed him, pushing my body to his. “Whatcha doing, pretty Clara?” he asked lazily. His eyes shut but he was alert.

  I slid my lips along his jaw. Kissed his gorgeous mouth softly. Rubbed against him like a needy cat. “I want you.”

  “I want you too,” he said.

  I kissed his cheek again. And he sighed. The sigh stilled me. “But?”

  “But I think you are a bit…primed for wanting me. I want you to want me on your own. Not because we played along with our little plan and you said yes and I fucked Nadia and you’d just been with Nadia and it’s all very…charged isn’t it?”

  I nodded. Said nothing.

  “So I am enough of a prima donna that I want you to want me all on your own. For me. The emotion needs to come from you. Not because we’re all charged up from sex games and testing the bonds of our attraction. I want it to be from…affection,” he whispered, hugging me to him.

  “Plus,” he turned on his side to stare at me as if we were at a slumber party. It almost made me laugh. “I want you all the way when you decide you’re ready.”

  “All the way?” I asked, my mouth numb with the realization that I wasn’t going to have him after all. That it was the way he needed it to be—and that I respected it enough to forego the sex I thought we’d have.

  “Yeah. I want us to be together, Clara. I think you’re amazing and smart and kind. I watched you march home from something very hard and burn the fuck out a bunch of stuff that belonged to a guy who made your life a living hell. I watched you look determined and beautiful. With roses from the cold in your cheeks and a smile when you were done. I want us to try to be together. Date. Go steady, whatever it is you want to label it.”

  I swallowed hard but I also sort of giggled. “Steady?”

  He rolled his eyes at me. “Whatever. Exclusive? Does that work?”

  I nodded. Touching his arm, his belly, his thigh. But just glancing touches. Not too lingering. Because my heart was beating wildly and erratically at what he had to say.

  “I guess.”

  “Does it scare you?”

  “Yes. It does. But I feel things for you that I didn’t expect. I feel jealous and alive and angry and…something close to love,” I blurted. I was back to being the blunt and uncouth creature I had been when we met. Because I thought I had nothing to lose. He’d probably laugh at me.

  “That’s how I feel,” he said, startling me. “So let’s not…do that,” he said, meaning the sex.

  I shifted—the urge to move into his arms, move close to him, was still huge in me despite my fear of what we were discussing.

  He took my face in his hands, kissing me deeply. I could taste the sweetness of him and the bitterness of the beer on his tongue. The kiss grew hotter and his fingers swept gently along the side of my face. “I thought we weren’t—”

  “Get yourself off,” he whispered. “I can tell you need to. So I’m going to do one of my favorite things while you do.” His lips toured my jaw, my neck, my collarbone, so that my nipples rose to twin hard points under my sweater. Then he kissed his way back up again.

  “What’s that?” I asked, my fingers already sliding down into my yoga pants, pinching my plump outer lips to tease myself into a bigger kind of want.

  “I’m going to kiss you, Clara my Clara,” he said. His mouth sealed off any words I might have said as I slid a slick fingertip over my clitoris. When he kissed my eyelids and my forehead and my goose bump-studded collarbone again, I pushed fingers into my willing pussy. I curled my fingers and arched my back, his arms close around me, his warmth seeping into me. And when all the pleasure became too much and I came, he swallowed my cries, licking them off my lips and eating them up.

  I dozed the way you do when you have the flu. I’d sleep hard for a bit and then rouse to the surface of sleep to see if he was still there. He was. Flat on his back, arms curled around me as my head rested over his heart. I couldn’t tell if he was awake in the blue flickering images of the TV. And I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to break the spell we had going. A comforting kind o
f peace that had my heart happy for the first time in ages.

  I finally gave in and slept deeply.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It was bright. Brighter than it had been for weeks. I rubbed my eyes, realizing I’d forgotten to pull the blinds because it had been so gray and dreary that I’d gotten used to just leaving them up. Before I even moved to look I could tell he wasn’t there. My heart dropped but my hand found a small piece of paper and then a larger, thicker piece. I waited to open my eyes though, reliving the feel of being safe and watched over through the night.

  Finally I blinked enough to clear my vision and sat up. When I pressed the extra pillow to my face I could smell him. The sense memory reared up in me and arousal flooded me. The smell of him made me want him.

  I read the note. I THOUGHT THIS WAS HOW YOU’D WANT IT. WE SORT OF SKIPPED OVER THE LINE WE’D DRAWN IN THE SAND LAST NIGHT. IF I’M WRONG, CALL ME. I’LL COME BACK. GLADLY.

  LOVE,

  MATT

  He’d gone home because of our agreement. I could change it all if I just picked up the phone or turned on the laptop on my bedroom desk. Instead I looked at the larger piece of paper. And there I was. Me. Asleep. Sketched out in bold strokes.

  Clearly it was his vision of me. I was not that beautiful. I was not that present in the world that I made an impact. And yet I wished it was me and not just the me he saw. I ran my fingers over the lines of my own face. I slid my fingers down the slope of my neck, the jut of my shoulders, the rumpled mess of bedsheets draped over my hastily drawn sleeping form.

  Beautiful. I put it on the tall dresser behind my jewelry box and pulled on a robe. I needed some tea. Coffee had been messing with my stomach lately. So a nice cup of tea and a quiet moment to think about what to do was what I needed.

  I needed to think. Just think.

  The house was chilly but the sky through the windows and the skylight in the hall said spring. I pulled on a pair of beat-up jeans and some warm boots lined with faux fur. But I chose a red sweater with a hood to give me some color today.

  Nothing like getting Sam the Sham and the Pharaohs stuck in your head first thing in the morning.

  “Hey, there little Red Riding Hood…” I sang, feeling a bit giddy and a lot scared.

  Matt changed me for the better when I was around him for any length of time. And then remembering my shrink schooling post-Richard, I reworded it in my head to not imply that he was somehow changing me, which is apparently unhealthy.

  I put on a bit of bronzer and said to myself, “Matt’s attitude and personality allows me to express the parts of myself I usually keep hidden and locked away. I see how he is and I want to be more open. There, that’s healthy right? Healthy as a motherfucker.”

  I looked out the window and saw him standing there. It was daylight but I had no doubt he could see me. The narrow bit of real estate between our windows coupled with the innate tallness and narrowness of the row homes made it quite possible to see into lit rooms even during the day. It was the trick of shadows that helped. The same shadows the local drug dealers liked to slip into to hock their wares helped me see him standing there wrapped in a towel and smiling.

  I put my hand against the window and felt a jolt of emotion in my chest. He mimicked me. I blew him a kiss and he mimicked me. But something in me insisted I pull away. I was too drunk on feelings right now—too high on last night. I needed to think and to process before I did anything insane and bold.

  I waved and he touched his heart and waved to me.

  I turned and fled the room before I could change my mind and indicate he should come over. Before I ran to him and said, “Let’s stop this crazy game.”

  Part of my fear about Matt was that he was not in fact as good and kind and loving as he seemed. And that would break my heart. I had once thought Richard was a prince, a knight in shining armor. When the truth had been that he was the villain. The no-good backstabber. The monster in the cave.

  My phone was ringing and I hurried to find it. It did not escape my notice that deep down I was hoping it was Matt on the other end, saying to me all the things I had the urge to say to him.

  “Hello?”

  I hadn’t even looked. I’d expected Matt or Nadia. But my sister said to me, “Meet me for brunch.”

  “What? I…”

  I was better but the fear and anxiety of going out and being in the big bright shiny world again lurked just below the surface. Especially considering the buzz of last night was wearing off and leaving me with an anxious aftertaste. Fear of going to meet her overtook me. It made my skin prickle hot and cold while I stood utterly still, frozen.

  “Come on. You’re doing better. The corner store, the newsstand, surviving Richard.” She paused here. “Two lovers…two!”

  I snorted, unable to contain the amusement that warred with my fear.

  “Where?” I sighed.

  “Double E Diner.”

  “When?” I felt like I was going to throw up.

  “As soon as you can. I’m on my way there.”

  I looked at the picture of me on my dresser. How beautiful I looked under his gaze. How I’d like to be that woman on the inside.

  “Fine. I’ll come.”

  “Heh, I just bet you will, you little slut,” my sister teased.

  “Perv,” I snorted and hung up.

  Going to the Double E would require I walk there or that I get a cab. I sold my car a year ago, convinced I was going to eventually be a shut-in and not need it. I had given up. Now I felt like maybe I hadn’t. Maybe I was willing to fight.

  I laced up different—nicer—boots and found my purse. I’d actually need cash. I ordered most stuff to the house, so I was used to bills and credit cards and using debit cards. I opened my jewelry box and took out some money.

  The walk would be cold. It was sunny but if I listened I heard the wind blowing hard. When I looked out the window I saw Mr. Hempel, my neighbor across the street, his flag whipping in the wind.

  I found a scarf and headed out into the wild blue wind.

  I only made it half a block when I heard it. “Hey, Clara! Clara!”

  For a split second I was fearful of another run-in with Richard. Which made no sense since clearly a woman was calling my name. But my brain had stumbled over an old knee-jerk reaction. I turned, shielding my eyes with my hand.

  “Nadia?”

  “Come here, girl,” she said. She’d pulled into a parking spot nose first, so she was crooked.

  I took a step toward her, a man scooting past me on the sidewalk. He frowned at me as he shouted into his phone and clutched his designer coffee cup. Apparently I was in his way. “I have somewhere I have to be.”

  My cheeks were hot with color but it was from the memory of freaking out on her when she went to untie me. And the feelings of jealousy in regards to her and Matt that somehow rushed up inside me to drown me in insecurity sometimes. She had known him first. And I wasn’t sure if I was able to forgive her for that. Which was utterly ridiculous.

  “Please,” she said. “Just a minute. Climb in.”

  “What is this?” I laughed as I climbed in. Anything to deflect her attention from me.

  “An 1984 Mercury Lynx.”

  “Sweet Jesus, where did you dig up this relic? I think my friend had one in college.”

  “I’ve had it since I turned sixteen. I baby it and Matt and I have a friend who’s a mechanic. He keeps my baby purring.” She patted the dashboard.

  “Baby?”

  “What can I say? I’m a nostalgic girl.”

  I squirmed in my seat. “I have to meet my sister. I really have to go. What did you need …?”

  She reached out to touch me and I pulled back a little. I saw the wince cross her face and felt an immediate rush of guilt. “I’m sorry,” Nadia said.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurted, leaning in to take her hand.

  “I just wanted to know…I’m here to ask…” She shook her head. It was confusing to see her looki
ng uncertain. That was my job.

  “What?” I squeezed her hand and dropped it. She shocked me by leaning across the gearshift and taking my face in her warm caramel-colored hands. She me kissed square on the mouth and our tongues touched for a moment. An electric sizzle shot through me, a magnificent jolt to my system.

  “I just wanted to make sure you don’t hate me,” she whispered against my mouth.

  People were watching us. I could feel their eyes on us through the windshield under the blinding spotlight of the clear day and the bright sun.

  Let them look.

  “I don’t hate you,” I whispered, putting my hands into her dark hair. Letting the softness tickle at my fingertips before I brushed it back from her face.

  “I’m a lot of things right now, Nadia, but hateful toward you isn’t one of them. I feel a myriad of stuff when I’m around you. Bold, scared, turned-on, jealous…but not hate. Never hate.”

  “Jealous?” she asked.

  “Long story by a fucked-up author. That would be me.” I wiggled my fingers at her. My phone buzzed in my pocket and before I even pulled it out to look I knew it would be Cat. “My sister,” I said. “I really have to go.”

  “When can I see you?”

  I’d climbed half out of the car and the wind tossed my hair in a chaotic swirl, whipping dark-blonde strands across my eyes, obscuring my vision.

  “I don’t know. I’m in this…holding pattern, right now. I thought all this was going to work.”

  Nadia stayed silent, watching me.

  “And sometimes I feel like it is. And sometimes I feel like…God, it totally isn’t.”

  My phone buzzed again with another text and she smiled. It was a forced smile, I could tell. “You’d better go,” she said. “Or I can drive you.” Her voice sounded hopeful.

  “I’m good. Thanks. I’ll call you. Or Matt will.”

  She nodded. “Good deal.”

  I could hear the pain in her voice. I wanted to fix it but I had to move forward. Think. Be alone. I shut the door as softly as I could while still making sure it closed. Before I could turn to wave she pulled off. I swore I could hear her anger and her worry in the tires’ song.