They didn’t need all this shit.
Storming to the swing, he yanked it down. Then he began to disassemble everything. His wife was going to come home to the way things used to be. The way she wanted them. His mother-in-law would be happy, too, because she’d have her fancy bathroom back. He climbed onto the bed and started to tear down the mirrors he’d stuck up there with industrial adhesive. Some of the sheetrock and paint came away with them, but he’d have it all fixed by this afternoon.
As he worked, he couldn’t help thinking about his wife alone in that hotel room. She was probably reliving the night, and each time she did, she would spiral deeper into guilt. He wished like hell he was the one going over there, not Piper.
But he had to grudgingly admit that Piper would likely have a better way with words—especially since she had been through this before.
He had to pray it would be enough to bring Caroline home.
21
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Caroline climbed back in bed and pulled the covers over her head, but before she had, she’d positioned the safety-bar thingy between the doorjamb and the door so Piper could get in. Not seven minutes later, there was a rap, followed by Piper’s melodic voice. “I’m coming in, and I brought ice cream!”
Caroline didn’t bother getting up or even opening her mouth to welcome her. Piper’s footsteps came to the bedroom doorway.
“Oh, so we’re in full-on feel-sorry-for-ourselves mode, huh? Okay. I can deal.” Caroline heard her go back into the other room and open the small fridge. “But you don’t get to do that alone.” Piper was back in her room. “Move over. I’m getting into bed with you.” Caroline felt the covers tug back. “Move, you’re hogging the entire bed and all the covers.”
Caroline grunted as she shuffled her body over. “Fine,” she muttered, “but I’m not talking to you, so don’t bother.”
“When have I ever needed someone to answer me? I’m perfectly fine rocking a monologue. In fact, I can talk to invisible crowds for hours upon hours at a time. You don’t scare me with your McGruff.” Caroline was surprised when Piper wrapped her arm around her waist and tugged her back against her. “Don’t stiffen up like that. I’m not trying to have sex with you! I’m just trying to give you some much-needed comfort. And, dude, you need it. Relax. Attagirl. That’s it.”
Caroline let herself relax, and immediately began to cry, which quickly morphed into loud, body-racking sobs.
“There, there,” Piper crooned. “I always have a really good cry after great sex, too. It’s such a cleanser for the dirty palate. It clears out all the guilt and anxiety like a charm. Go on”—she rubbed Caroline’s arm—“weep out every last drop, and then we get to eat ice cream.”
“It’s six thirty in the morning. Ice cream does not fix everything,” Caroline wailed. “This is not funny!”
“Of course it’s not funny. I never said it was. You need this. Cry away. And, yes, fortunately for us, ice cream does have magical healing powers. They’re missing a golden opportunity by not marketing that on the front of the container. If an ice cream company hired my ad agency, and I got the campaign, I’d insist on rebranding. I didn’t bring praline this time, though. I went for the deep, dark stuff—dark chocolate with salted caramel something or other. You can’t go wrong with salted caramel these days. It’s freakin’ everywhere.”
“Pass me some tissues.” Caroline sniffled. “They’re on the bed stand next to you.” A second later, Piper passed a pile of tissues over her shoulder. Caroline took them and turned slightly so she was lying half on her back, still under Piper’s arm, and blew her nose. “I know you just think I’m a big baby who can’t handle herself.” She hiccupped. “That what I did wasn’t so bad and I’m so stupid to be this upset.”
“If I thought you were stupid, we never would’ve come this far in our friendship. Stupid people make me rashy and bitch-slappy. And let’s face it, I told you to take baby steps, and instead you took a giant leap off the big, scary sexual cliff. I’m not surprised to find you here”—Piper craned her head to examine the room—“in this super-modern hotel suite, folded in on yourself, feeling nauseous and scared, and totally worried about the state of your marriage. You know, come to think about it, I’ve never been to HotelRED before. Next time, I’m picking it for my breakdown place. It’s kind of cheery, but cold at the same time. The perfect place to pull up your bootstraps.”
How did Piper know Caroline so well? She should be a therapist. Begrudgingly, Caroline had to admit she felt better having her here. But she wasn’t ready to confess that to her yet.
“Speaking of bootstraps,” Piper continued. “If you remember correctly, before you went on your merry videotaping adventure, I told you you didn’t even have to get naked if you didn’t want to. Then I find out that you not only got naked, but you and Jace fucked like people possessed in front of the Slaters. There is no stupidity in that—only unbridled passion and crushing regret. Hey, that should be the name of a soap opera, if it’s not already.”
Caroline flinched like she’d been slapped at the words fucking like people possessed. She was so embarrassed. Through more tears, she managed, “You don’t have to be so vulgar about it.” Then she groaned. “God, I sound just like my mother!” Then she dissolved into another fit of crying.
Piper ran her hand along her shoulder and down her arm, waiting until she could gather herself again.
It was a while.
“All jokes aside, I get it,” Piper said, still stroking her. “I get why you’re here. But I’m also here to tell you it’s not as bad as you think it is. That’s not something you want to hear right now, but I’m going to lay it on you anyway and prepare you for the tide of happiness that’s about to come your way. But first, I need you to tell me what actually happened at the Slaters’ house—in detail. Well, not like porn-y detail. But I need more clarity. I only got the bare bones from your totally miserable and guilt-ridden husband. He said Pete was involved. I need to know what exactly happened so we can suss it all out.” Piper’s voice broke on the word suss, their new inside joke.
“Honestly, I don’t want to talk about it,” Caroline said. “It was awful, and I don’t feel like reliving it.” She didn’t mention reliving it was all she’d done for hours upon hours.
“That’s too damn bad,” Piper said, her voice stern. “In order to get to the bottom of your well of unbridled guilt—which we all know runs extremely deep—we need to go through this methodically. I need to know how far it went. If Pete actually fucked you, I’m going to set up a meeting with a marriage counselor who specializes in this sort of thing, so you can save your marriage. A counselor I happen to have a very up close and personal relationship with. Her name is Marianne, and she’s an absolute boss. I see her once a week. If a lot less happened, I’m going to work you through it right here and now.” She pressed a fingertip into Caroline’s shoulder. “And when you get out of this bed, you’re going to feel refreshed and ready to go home to work this out with your loving husband.”
“That’s going to happen,” Caroline replied. “I can tell you already. I’m not ready to face him yet. And, no! Absolutely not. Pete didn’t do anything…close to that.” She shuddered. “He…he…just touched me. But it made me…” Caroline couldn’t finish before she dissolved into another crying jag.
“He made you come when he touched you? Is that it? When your husband hadn’t been successful?” Piper asked, her voice soft, her hand back to patting Caroline.
“Yes!” Caroline wailed.
“And you liked it, right? That’s where this humonstrous guilt is coming from. You liked what Pete did, you had a huge orgasm, and now you’re plagued with guilt. You lived your daydream in real living color, and it’s scared the crap out of you.”
All Caroline could do was nod as she sobbed quietly, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.
“So…” Piper paused. “Did he, like, rub your clit to get you to come?
”
Caroline sucked in a breath so fast she had to rap on her chest to find air again. “No!” She coughed. “He was nowhere near my…hoo-ha.”
Piper tossed her head back into the pillow and laughed. “You slay me. Dude, if we weren’t way past hoo-has before, we are so past them now. So you’re telling me he didn’t fuck you and wasn’t anywhere near your pussy. Is that correct?”
“Correct.”
“So he sucked your tits, then? He loves tits. He really can’t get enough.”
“Piper!”
“What? We both know you had sexy-times with the Slaters. It’s all out in the open. Pete loves to suck. That’s his thing. But that’s neither here nor there. I need you to tell me what the hell he did to drive you here—bubbling like a fountain under the covers in an expensive hotel when the Hampton Inn is right down the street. So far, what you’ve told me is not anything you can’t get past. Well, except if he, like, defecated on you or something equally gross. You’d have to go to counseling for that for sure. I don’t get those fetishes. They creep me out.”
“Gross! No! He…used his hands.”
“Hands where?”
“My breasts.”
“Like, fondled your nipples?”
Caroline teared up. “Yes.”
“How did he do it?”
Caroline craned her head up to look at her friend. “Honestly, does it really matter? The deed was done. He used his hands on my nipples, and I came. Then my head spun, and I couldn’t think straight!”
“It matters. Trust me. Did he do it in, like, a big, meaty caveman possessive way, like, all arrrrgh?” She lowered her voice to a growl and mimicked grabbing on to something and squeezing it in the air between them. “Or did he, like, tweak them lightly?” She pinched her fingers together and tilted her wrist to the side.
“Lightly.”
“For how long?”
“Not long.”
“What are we talking here? A minute or a few seconds?”
“Seconds.”
Piper edged up on her elbow and glanced down at Caroline, grinning. “So, you’re telling me Pete lightly fondled your nipples for about two seconds, and you were so turned on by your own husband, and the scene before you, that you came instantly? Nothing else happened? There was no clit licking or nipple sucking on his part? His dick is super long, you know. You might’ve wished he was doing more—”
“Stop! Stop it!” Caroline cried. “That was it! But I’m not going to let you dismiss this as nothing happened. A touch is a touch. He laid his hands on me, and I came! Once I recovered, I couldn’t believe I was actually there—in that awful Pleasure Paradise, watching two people have sex—let alone allowing one of them to touch me! It was all so surreal and crazy. My brain felt fuzzy and muted after, like I was drunk. But I’d only had a drink and a half. And why didn’t you tell me they have a sex lair in their basement?” Caroline accused. “That wasn’t fair. I walked in thinking they were normal, and we’d, like, go into their bedroom or something. Then they usher us down there, and it’s like a dirty-movie set.”
“Normal is a four-letter word to me. And that place is the bomb, isn’t it? But in a totally who-are-these-people kind of way. If I’d told you, you never would’ve gone. But now I think we’re finally getting someplace,” Piper said excitedly. “And I’m not dismissing anything, I swear, but what you’re describing is a full-blown panic attack. Brain fuzzy, can’t think straight. Were you shaking?”
Caroline nodded. “Like a leaf. I submerged myself in their hot tub, and when I came up for air, I couldn’t remember how I’d even gotten there.”
“I hate to tell you this, but you had a mini-breakdown. The good news? That explains a lot, and it means that you’ll recover just fine. And believe me, I know a thing or two about breakdowns. I had a major one myself. Maybe someday I’ll share the gory details with you, but now’s not the time. Needless to say, the fact you went from a severe panic attack to feeling sorry for yourself in a matter of hours is great news! I couldn’t be happier.”
“Hey! I’m not feeling sorry for myself, I’m just…sad and angry I let it go so far.”
Piper shook her head. “Nope, you’re not. You’re wallowing. Pete didn’t actually do much to you other than fulfill a fantasy.” She poked Caroline in the shoulder. “Your fantasy. Pete was the proverbial camel that broke the orgasm’s back, but you had a panic attack because you’d never allowed yourself to think about the possibility of that daydream coming true, which was your first big mistake. You made a date with the Slaters, but blocked out the reality of your wildest fantasy coming true. Had you allowed yourself to go there, and prepare yourself, I think you would’ve bypassed the breakdown and gone straight to feeling sorry for yourself. Have you ever had a panic attack before? They can be super wicked.”
Caroline thought about it for a moment. “Yes, but it was years ago, and it wasn’t as intense as last night. I was rejected by the very first college I applied to. When I opened the letter, I thought the world was caving in on me and I’d be stuck living at home for the rest of my life. I remember collapsing in my mother’s favorite chaise and not being able to get up for hours. I was dizzy and my head was throbbing, but it was tame compared to this.”
Piper snorted. “Rich-girl problems.”
Caroline slapped her friend on the arm. “Not fair! You have no idea how much I wanted out of that house! The rejection was from Harvard, my father’s alma mater. My mother was in as much of a swoon as I was.”
“So you’re telling me it runs in the family, then?”
Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not helping!”
“Oh, I’m so helping. I’m here to shine a light on everything, so you can see what really happened, rather than what your brain is accusing you of doing, and—AND—to find the root of the real issue.”
“And the real issue is what, exactly?”
“In my blessed opinion, you had a breakdown because you liked what happened, and that fucked with your brain. Also, it messed with what you consider normal. In your perfect world, women like you don’t have so-called perversions. Admitting you like something different is the hardest part of all this. I grapple with it all the time, which is why I see Marianne on a regular basis. I, Piper Collins”—she clamped a hand over her heart—“see a therapist about my crushing need to see my husband fuck other women. It turns me on so much I can’t stand it. But I’m getting off track.” She waved a hand in the air. “This is about you. You’re angry at yourself more than you’re guilty. And you’re scared—shit-scared—of doing it again, because secretly you want to, and when you do, you might want to go further next time. Pete sucking your tits would be divine. You can’t wait for his big, fat tongue to lick—”
“Piper! Stop!”
“Don’t Piper stop me,” she clucked. “This is the nitty-gritty whether you like it or not. And can I just say, for the record, that you don’t have a sexually deviant bone in your entire body. You like what you like. Nothing wrong with that, but it scares the crap out of you. That’s ultimately why you can’t face your husband. What Pete did to you was minimal, but you liked it too much. How do you face Jace and tell him that? How do you prevent crushing guilt and a possible breakdown after another event? That’s the issue here. But only you can settle that with yourself. If you can do that, you can keep going. Or next time, your panic attack will last longer, and no one wants that.”
“And how do I settle things with myself? You make it sound so easy, when inside I feel like vomiting again just thinking about it.” Caroline edged onto her side so they could face each other, molding the pillow under her neck for support. “I don’t think I’m cut out for this kind of life.”
“Never say never. You might not be, but what you need is time. Time with your husband and time to sort out your feelings. This concerns Jace as much as it does you. But the best part is, you don’t have to do anything ever again if that’s your choice.” Piper readjusted herself. To a casua
l observer, they appeared like they were having a sleepover and engaging in girl talk. Too bad the topic wasn’t more fun. “So riddle me this. Was the orgasm really big? Like, bigger than you normally have?”
“Yes.” Caroline paused. “They were great. So what? It was still wrong.”
“They? Go, you.” Piper chuckled. “Wrong for whom? You? American society? The entire world? Who are we aiming the wrongdoing at?”
“Wrong for…Jace?” Caroline said, hesitating for a moment.
“Bingo. You love your husband more than anything, but I’m sorry to tell you, you’re projecting your feelings onto him. He doesn’t feel what you do. If Emma were to have stroked his cock, and he ejaculated, you would’ve been hurt, right?”
“I can’t even let my mind go there.” Caroline grimaced.
“Exactly. But that’s not what he felt when Pete touched you. You need to go home and talk to him, and really listen to how he felt about last night. If he’s fine with it, and has no jealousy whatsoever, then you need to reexamine your own feelings and see if you can separate those two things. They are completely different.”
“Argh, why does this have to be so complicated?” Caroline’s tone was weary.
Piper shrugged. “Because love is complicated. Feelings are complicated. But, honestly, you didn’t murder anyone. You didn’t kill anyone’s dog. In fact, in the scenario you described, everyone got off, so there were four happy, satisfied people last night in the Pleasure Paradise.”
“I wasn’t happy.”
“Three extremely happy people,” Piper amended, “and one woman who was happy for a good twelve seconds, and then plagued by a panic attack and misplaced Southern guilt.”
Caroline started to laugh. She couldn’t help it. “You know, I was dreading you coming here. I really didn’t want to face facts. It’s so much easier to keep my head in the sand, and I knew you’d tell me I was acting like a guilty Southern girl, but I have to admit, you’ve really helped me in the short time we’ve been talking.”
What Caroline Wants Page 19