Cabin In The Woods

by Kristine Robinson

  “Duh. Isn't it obvious? You've always been like this!” Leona says, all trace of her former calm gone. Whereas Jaimie lashes out like a wounded animal, Leona's face pales in incandescent rage. She gets up, and, without another word, storms away from the table – leaving the family gathering in ruins.

  Jaimie is heaving fast, the air rushing through her nose as if she's run a marathon. The fight had somehow, out of the blue, turned into something about me. Adding to that is Leona – the same Leona who had ceased to contact me in all the years she had been swallowed up into the life of the military, who honestly believes that Jaimie stole me from her. I stare at the door for a moment, struggling to processed what I've witnessed, and what this all means.

  Leona, despite being the one to leave me all those years ago, acts jealous – almost as jealous as Jaimie gets.

  Steve's fists are clenched. Gene looks close to weeping. I grab Jaimie's shoulder. “Come on,” I mutter. “You need to cool off. Let's go home.”

  Silently, hatred in her eyes, she responds to my touch, and we leave the debacle of a family dinner.

  In the ride back home, she doesn't say much, but when I glance to check her expression, she's scowling or silently fuming.

  When we get back to our apartment, she glowers at me as I head off to the shower. I always like to shower just before I go to bed. It helps to wash off the grime of the day, and if I'm honest, I dislike having sex until I've showered.

  I think sex is something to be treated with respect, and the body accumulates a lot of dirt over the day. Your core is trapped in a tight, enclosed space for hours on end, and so is your armpits, and the sweat on your feet. It adds up. Whenever I take a shower, I always like to imagine I'm shedding off the problems of the day, so I can drift into a dreamless sleep, or for whatever Jaimie has in store in her sometimes unpredictable mind.

  I'm about one minute in the shower, with soap bubbling through my fingers, when the shower door slides open and Jaimie joins me. My eyes snap open, and I watch her reach past me for the shower gel. Her breasts have dusky nipples, and if anything, are larger than mine, and I'm not exactly small. Her dark hair becomes black under the relentless pouring of the water, and the liquid trails that dribble over her plump lips immediately turn me on. Wordlessly, Jaimie turns me around, directing me with her touch, and her soaped up hands begin to glide over my skin, massaging the scent into my flesh.

  This is tender, and unlike the Jaimie I'm used to, and I lean into her with a sigh as her hands make enticing circles, and her fingers splay out over my breasts, sometimes gripping tight and sometimes just sliding across.

  It relaxes me so much that a goofy smile enters my face, and I let out the human equivalent of a purr as her strong body holds me, and she washes me clean. Her hands spread my legs apart, and she briefly touches the nerve center there, even as she cleanses me out here as well. She presses her palm firmly into me to lessen some of the arousing sensation, but it doesn't matter, because it's Jaimie, and all she needs to do is breathe to get me turned on.

  Her lips pinch around my left ear under the water, and a hot tongue touches the soft flesh behind it, and I can't control the whimpering moan that punches out of me. I feel her smirk against my ear, but she continues lathering me, before letting the water rinse off the suds. She does the same for herself, fast, refusing my attempts to do the same back, and then we're out of the shower and tumbling into bed.

  Freshly washed, our skins are silky smooth to the touch, and every tactile sensation serves to electrify us, to deliver dreamy ripples through the little hairs on our arms, and the delicious aroma of strawberry gel permeates our nostrils.

  Jaimie rolls on top of me, and locks a leg between my bare thighs, pushing into the accumulating wetness there. Her dark blue eyes look at me as if she owns me, and she moves to nip at my ear, pressing her breasts against mine, and pushing her knee deeper. My arousal makes her knee slip as she grinds sinuously onto me, and our delicate, baby-smooth skins stir each other into a frenzy.

  “I want you,” she whispers, her voice husky and drawling, her long dark hair brushing into my blonde strands. “You're so wet...”

  “Ah...” I sigh, my palms clinging to her shoulders, enjoying the flex of muscle and bone, and the way her skin tickles mine.

  She leans back for a moment from my ear, and, eyes twinkling like stars, she grabs one of my hands and guides it to her core. “Look what you do to me.”

  My fingers slip and fumble into unbelievable wetness, and as she flutters her eyes shut and moans, I moan as well. It's not so often she lets me do this at the start – her defenses have to be fully down before I can have my wicked way. Sure enough, she doesn't let me tease her for long. She takes my hand away and slams it into the bed, and dives for my neck, kissing me, sucking hard at the skin, before soothing it over with her tongue.

  She's so amazing. My mind is imploding from just how much she's turning me on, from how her body feels slotted with mine. She has a way of spicing things up, of always pulling the desire out of me. Her knee continues grinding into my wetness, and her breasts roll over mine. She breathes hot air that flings shocks over my skin, and lets out moans of pleasure from how I react.

  “I want to taste you.” She pulls back to examine me with a salacious grin, and eyes that burn like coals in the darkness. That wicked smile upon her lips makes my heart increase to about three times its normal pace, because damn, she gets the blood going.

  “Jaimie,” I breathe, and this sends a kind of ecstatic shudder over her skin, before she begins kissing down my front, dabbing her tongue at each of my nipples, leaving a damp trail across my sensitive skin. She dips into my belly button, and I swear I feel the shock rip through like an arrow, just before she kisses across my trimmed hairs down there, nearing her prize.

  Anticipation glimmers in her face, along with excitement. I see the shine of wetness on her knee, where she has been pressing into me, and my stomach gives another manic flutter.

  That dangerous smile touching her lips again, she lowers herself onto my core, keeping eye contact with me as she does so. Her expression at this angle is almost coy and innocent as she flicks at my nub, and gathers additional wetness toward it.

  Her hands grip my thighs hard, steadying me, bracing in the perfect position for the tension to coil up and release itself. She moans into me, and the vibrations make me jerk, and gasp out. I arch my back and tilt my head onto the pillow, and I'm breathing hard and fast, my heart a frenzied pace.

  She devours me with expert precision, taking me in the way she knows how, with all the tricks in her arsenal. She doesn't just flick. She kisses, sucks, pinches and rolls it, always changing the angle, because if she focuses on the sweet spot for too long, I'll come before the fun's really started.

  She does this tortuous ritual on me as I moan and whimper and beg for her to make me come, but she keeps it up. I know she wants to make me forget about Leona, and it's working, because She has a way of demanding every fiber of my being when it comes to sex.

  Maybe she's doing this to stake a claim, to prove to herself that she loves me and I love her. I don't know for certain, but she keeps me hovering on the edge in sweet torment, until the tension in my thighs starts hurting – and that's when she goes for the kill.

  She finishes me off with a fast, lapping tongue, and the orgasm screams through my body, sinking me into bliss.

  I have a sneaking suspicion, however, that she's not going to let me rest for long. She wants me all to herself, and might spend the entire night demonstrating it.

  She takes charge, and I love it. I do sometimes wish she would let me take charge more often – but it does mean that when I can, on the rare occasions she lets me into her vulnerable places – I know it's special. I treat it as something special, because this woman doesn't let that many people into her secrets, if any at all.

  Then there's me, with the privilege of being her girlfriend. Strange, to think that I wanted to use her. Strange, to understand I w
anted revenge on Leona, only to discover that basic intentions like those turn out to not be so basic.

  The heart wants what it wants, after all.

  Shouldn't that mean I can choose between them, then? Shouldn't I know who I really want?

  Shouldn't I?

  Chapter Three

  The next day, still without any answers to my dilemma, I'm over there again, but without Jaimie in tow this time. I had phoned Gene this morning, who sounded weepy and upset still, and I asked if it was possible to come over to speak to Leona. It seemed like we had some things to sort out – because the outburst had shocked me to the core. Even though Jaimie kept me satisfied all night, in the early hours of the morning, my thoughts ventured over to Leona's reaction.

  Something unexplained lingered there. Something that I needed to find out. An answer I craved.

  Everything I had assumed when it came to Leona breaking up with me had been turned on its head. And, as much as I love Jaimie, and had endured her power, love and passion last night, as she took me to bed and worshipped me, kissing me hard and deep, whispering that she loved me into my neck – I can't shake off Leona's words.

  I have to know.

  Gene, being the wonderful person she is, instantly agrees. With Jaimie at work at her shop, I'm here, standing outside Jaimie's room, caterpillars wriggling in my stomach. Does Leona still feel attracted to me? Am I smart for doing this?

  Probably not. I must be the biggest idiot in the world, but I don't care. I've been wanting to speak to her properly after all this time. The voice of doubt and guilt worms its way into my brain, before I choke it into silence.

  When I enter, Leona, who is hunched over her laptop, stares at me, and her lips curl upward, turning her expression from blank to pleased. “Lola. Hey.”

  “Hey,” I reply, nervous. Leona's eyes trail to my top, where a hint of cleavage pokes out the v-neck, and a shiver of arousal slips through me. Doesn't matter that I got sexed out last night by Jaimie – Leona's revving me up all over again. Those icy blue eyes are like glinting chips, capable of scouring the depths of your soul. Jaimie's in comparison are like steel doors, hiding a wealth of treasure, which open for a brief moment when she completely gives herself to me. “I made you cherry tarts.”

  Leona's eyebrows raise. Again, I'm reminded of how stunning she is, with those wide cheeks, those delicate features and that light brown hair. It's so bizarre how both women can look so different yet be so astonishingly attractive. And it's super frustrating that I'm attracted to both. I imagine how Leona might look with blonde hair, the same color as mine, and I like the image. Maybe too much.

  “I remember those,” she says, accepting the tarts from me. “You used to make them... when we were...”

  “Yeah,” I say. I sit on her bed as she begins to chew on what used to be her favorite thing to get from me, my mouth dry, my hand trembling slightly. “Listen. I just... wanted to apologize. I never wanted something like yesterday evening to happen. I didn't want to put you two at odds.” I sigh. I know I'm messing this up, but she sits there patiently, listening to me. She's less volatile than Jaimie that way, more mature. However, I say that, and then remember her outburst from the other day. That was jealously, a colder form than Jaimie's. “I really thought it was over. You never gave me a reason to hang on, you know?”

  Leona holds up a hand, stemming whatever other words threaten to spill out of my mouth. “Look. Don't worry, Lola. Something like this was bound to happen. I did push you away. I know I did. I understand. Less so about it being my sister – but I don't want to talk about that, or the fight. What I do what to know is what you've been up to.” She affords me a smile. The kind capable of melting hearts and peeling off panties.

  I echo it, relived to see that smile. She has a sunny one, capable of melting away bad thoughts and negative emotions. “I suppose I can settle with that.”

  So, we talk. We go over everything that has happened since our separation. Leona, lying on the bed with her legs curled up slightly, exposing a hint of stomach, makes my mouth water at the thought of kissing it, and I have to rein in my thoughts and ignore the seductive essence of her, with her familiar coconut and fresh laundry smell that I've always loved inhaling. It's not easy, because I've seen her naked before, I've felt her skin against mine – and she allows me in her far more than Jaimie does, perhaps because she's more trusting. Or perhaps because we were long time friends before we started dating.

  She had, after all, been open about her sexuality, while I hid in the closet through my tenure at school.

  She tells me about the tours, about making sergeant, though she avoids some of the worst details about what she's seen. In return I tell her about college, about my cranky psychology teacher and how my best friend, Katie, got married last fall with the same guy she's been dating since middle school. I tell her of my issues with some of the lectures, and of barely scraping the grade – and I only briefly drop about my relationship with Jaimie.

  In fact, I avoid most talk about Jaimie, because I want to focus on Leona – the girl I once loved. Jaimie had her time last night. This time is for Leona, to understand the mysteries that surround her. Soon I'm lying beside her, laughing and giggling, and it's as if she's never been away. It makes me sad, in a way, because I had always believed that we would stay together, maybe even get married one day, but I can't do that now. I'm with Jaimie. Jaimie is different, but she hits something else in me.

  Leona makes me light and reminds me of my innocence. Jaimie allows my darkness to be accepted, and the cravings inside to be sated.

  “I really missed you, you know,” Leona says, her voice dipping low. Her body moves closer to me, and our legs touch. A thrill of delicious, scandalous excitement courses through me. I move closer as well, tugging at my shoulder, watching as Leona's eyes dip to my chest.

  I'm flirting with her, and I know it's wrong, but I can't help it. “I missed you too. I missed all our talks. How we could be with each other.”

  I can feel my arousal building. My panties are wet, uncomfortably wet, and I use it as a wake up call. Time to leave. I want this, and that's a big enough signal to run for it. I quickly wind up the conversation, saying that I ought to get back home now, but just as I roll off the bed, ready to go, Leona grabs me by the hand. Thrill undulates through me, and I shiver. I don't shake off her hand. It becomes conveniently paralyzed. I'm transfixed by her gaze.

  “Lola, wait.” Icy blue eyes pierce me as she pulls me close, and plants her lips upon mine. I sigh, and indulge in the kiss, unearthly ripples of desire running over my skin. Fuck. My body reacts, my breasts ache, and I know for certain that I still love her, and I still want to feel her body pressed against mine. I engage in the kiss, wrapping my fingers in her fine brown hair, inhaling the wonderful scent of her, picking up the rhythm of our lips together that I had never quite forgotten.

  “I never stopped loving you,” she whispers on my lips. The hint of a tongue probes at my mouth, and I accept her, letting our tongues brush one another. She pulls apart then to say, “I made a mistake, cutting you off as I did. I knew it was wrong the second I saw your face crumple. But I couldn't take my words back. I couldn't sleep at night, though. I really couldn't.”

  “I had no idea,” I whisper, sadness infusing me. If she had told me this. If I had known... would I have ever ended up with Jaimie? It's a horrible thought, but an honest one.

  Maybe I wouldn't have.

  Or maybe I would.

  “I don't intend to make the same mistake again, Lola. I want you.”

  Fuck. I want to cry. To scream. This isn't fair. I love them both. And I can't help thinking, wishing that she had told me how much she regretted letting me go. I launch myself into the kiss with passion, clutching at her hair, and she lets out a high pitched moan, and strokes my back as she reels me in, and I feel her warmth, her desire, years of it bottled up inside. Our tongues duel, and her hand curls under my shirt, brushing and electrifying the skin, and I'm weak, w
eak for letting this happen, but I want it so much.

  With an enormous amount of effort, I pull away from the kiss. Leona's eyes are slightly dazed, like mine must be. I take a moment to gather my senses together. “I'm sorry. I have to go. I shouldn't be doing this.”

  “I understand,” Leona says, though there's a note of sadness there. I have to physically fight the urge to just dive upon her lips again, and sink into those glorious blue eyes, and I make arrangements to leave.

  I don't know what to do, and it's breaking my heart. If I could, I would just curl up in a corner and sleep, and forget everything.

  Instead, as I'm walking home, I text my best friend, Katie. I need someone to talk to on the outside. Someone unbiased and less likely to make my heart thump in pain.

  I know I'm selfish, because I want them both. But I have to choose.

  Chapter Four