Appetites & Vices

by Felicia Grossman

  Ursula shoved another cookie into her mouth and swallowed, again and again. The sob sat right below the surface. She sank her nails into her palms as hard as she could.

  Mrs. Truitt stirred the liquid in her glass for a long moment before speaking again. Her voice cracked. “Please don’t be embarrassed. My husband and I should be. We should’ve known you were to be our son’s second wife. And I should’ve known my husband would do something foolish like pay a blackmailer instead of speaking to Jay. He probably did it via letter too—through his lawyer, typed by a clerk. Men are so thick, and worse gossips than women. Once a secret is written down it won’t stay secret long.”

  Something about the woman’s words coupled with the brittle, dignified tone broke her and the tears rushed forward. Ursula hid her face in her sleeve to muffle the sound. She leaned over the table, her elbow resting on the edge.

  Utter, ultimate humiliation. She had no manners, but there was no helping it.

  It was unclear how long she cried but her bare neck was hot and sweaty. Not attractive at all. Ursula raised her head and blotted again with the handkerchief. She was probably hideous. She blew her nose and lowered the cloth, unable to look at her companion.

  Jay’s mother released a sympathetic sigh. “You are a sensitive one. Jay’s fortunate.”

  Ursula snorted. “Me? Sensitive? I’m coarse and a complete dunce with people. I’m the least sensitive person created. Jay’s the sensitive one, so sensitive, and empathetic. He can truly see people and takes on what they feel.”

  She wiped under her eyes until the skin itched. With a sigh, she tucked the handkerchief away, though close, just in case. She pushed another cookie into her mouth. At least that would stop her from rambling.

  Mrs. Truitt made another sympathetic sound, probably assuming Ursula was daft. She traced the rim of her glass with her pointer finger before speaking. “You know a great deal about my son.”

  “Jay is rather easy to know,” she said before nodding like a ninny.

  “Really?” The single word contained a million questions, backed by the arched eyebrow. This woman was probably very skilled at poker, or would be if she tried.

  Ursula stuffed a third cookie in her mouth and swallowed so quickly that rough edges cut her throat on the way down. “Oh yes. He holds a lot of secrets, but the rest of him—yes. He’s so careful and considerate. He tries to protect everyone. He can’t stand to see anyone, especially someone less fortunate or less powerful, hurt. He feels things so deeply. And the way people speak of him and don’t understand him and take advantage is just not right.”

  Her words were rushed and much angrier than she intended, but once she opened her mouth she couldn’t stop the flood. It was true, all true. Jay deserved so much better. He deserved a real champion, not just the girl who never said anything right—the recipe that looked good on paper but burnt every time.

  Mrs. Truitt blinked. “No. No, it isn’t.” She grasped Ursula’s hand and clutched it while studying her face, her eyes a mossy gray-green, glistening.

  “We failed him. Both my husband and I, each in our own way. He was alone in his grief and he damaged himself. You aren’t engaged to the same man he was seven years ago.” Mrs. Truitt’s voice was hard, but the note of sadness still floated in each syllable.

  Ursula nodded. “I know.”

  She did, and she didn’t. None of them really knew. They’d skidded over the surface, rocks skipping over a black pond, deeper than any of them fathomed.

  The comment was still confirmation. The demon was no longer a suspicion, but a fact. It wasn’t as common in America as it was in Britain, but Jay always was ahead of the curve, even with vices. And it was a vice, not a mere appetite.

  The bargain her own mother made at the end of her life, fog instead of agony, relief from pain, but not really living—the tears prickled again, pressure emanating from the backs of her eyes. Ursula inhaled through her nose. It just wasn’t fair. To any of them.

  Mrs. Truitt’s shoulders rose before she spoke. “He’ll never be as he was. The danger will always be there.”

  The sadness now overtook the words. To be a mother and to live with that grim truth... The wrinkles marring Mrs. Truitt’s face grew more intense, around the mouth and on her brow. How old was she? Fifty? When they’d sat she’d appeared younger but now...

  “I understand.” The words came out of their own accord, clear and confident, more than she felt. A lifeline, for them both.

  “Do you really?” The catch within the whisper overtook Jay’s mother’s voice.

  How did she explain? She was young and probably foolish and naïve. “I don’t know what the future will bring, and I cannot imagine what life is like in his body.” Ursula bit her lower lip and tasted the copper of blood. Images of him wrapped in the chair, his eyes haunted, flashed in her mind.

  “He’ll never truly be free.” Mrs. Truitt echoed every thought, every fear she’d held back. The woman shrank, as if she would crumble.

  Ursula squeezed her crossed ankles together to push herself up straighter. She stiffened her spine. She’d have to be a champion for more than just Jay, at least in that moment.

  “No, though are any of us, really?” she said, her voice somehow strong, despite how glass-like her innards had become.

  Mrs. Truitt’s head shot up. Her eyes flashed light and green and hot—like Jay at his most passionate, when he was the best of himself.

  Ursula almost laughed, but stammered on instead, her mind racing to keep pace with her mouth.

  “We all have negatives, problems, demons, whatever one wants to refer to them as, Mrs. Truitt. Things we fight, things we live with, things we don’t even know about or truly understand, all that can strike at any time. To discount a person, to throw a person away, to never trust nor believe—because their dangers are near the surface, are known instead of hidden—”

  Mrs. Truitt cocked her head, another mirror of her son.

  Before either could say anything more, two small dogs raced towards the table and smashed into Ursula’s skirts, kicking up dirt from the path. Brown splotches dotted her hem.

  Jay’s mother clasped a hand over her mouth. “Your lovely gown. I’m so sorry.”

  Ursula almost didn’t hear as she rubbed the head of the first. She bent and pulled the second onto her lap. It licked at her neck, burrowing into the skin by her neckline—soft, so soft, with short, silky fur. Oh, to have an animal cuddle you. “What breed are they?”

  “Italian greyhounds. They’re lapdogs.” Mrs. Truitt’s voice shook, as if she stifled a laugh.

  “Obviously.” Ursula giggled and reached a hand down to scratch behind the one on the ground’s ears.

  It yelped and danced around her feet, rubbing against her skirt. The one on her lap kissed her lips and her stomach relaxed. Dogs were wonderful. Why couldn’t people be like animals?

  Mrs. Truitt took another sip of tea. “You have dogs?”

  “A Japanese Chin, her name is Diana. I have lots of nonhuman friends—a cat named Artemis, and a macaw, Isis, and of course, Hecate, she’s a marmoset. There are horses too.”

  Another Jay-like grin flashed on the woman’s face. “I adore animals. Jay and his father, not quite as much, though I believe the right creature could persuade my son.”

  The animal gave Ursula another delightful lick. She snuggled the dog and pictured Jay subjected to the same treatment. She swallowed a snort. Such delicious torture. Not as much fun as him and Arte, but close. Watching those two was now her favorite pastime, well, one of them.

  “For now, it’s amusing watching them interact.” Ursula laughed at her own joke.

  “Yes, very.” Mrs. Truitt sipped her drink. However, the glass did not fully hide the smile creeping through her face.

  Jay’s smile.

  A happy sigh rippled through Ursula. In an instant she cou
ld no longer eat. She had to get back, and to be with Jay and somehow, some way make him feel all that she couldn’t quite say.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jay patted himself with the fresh towel, wrapped it around his waist and slid from behind the screen. He’d wallow a bit on the bed before ringing for someone to empty the bathwater, indulge for a little while longer, alone.

  Urs had looked particularly fetching the prior day in her lavender calico gown. The costume wasn’t as revealing as the ball gowns, but the way her hair fell to highlight the right places...

  He started. There, sitting on his bed, in what appeared to be a nightdress, white trimmed with lavender ruffles, was Urs.

  “What are you doing in here? And don’t you ever knock?” he asked.

  Despite everything they’d done, he worked to stare at the floor, as the longer his gaze lingered on her, the worse things would be for him. He’d be tossing off until next Tuesday and still need ice. Still, his traitorous eyeballs kept crawling back upward. She was wet, soaked, her hair dripping on her sheer gown. He wasn’t the only one who’d bathed.

  “We’re alone again and I thought, perhaps...” Urs rose and strolled across the room.

  Her gown clung to her body, leaving nothing to the imagination, but somehow more hypnotic than if she’d been actually naked. A worm itched at the back of his brain. He was supposed to tell her something. What was it? Whatever it was, it’d vanished from his mind. Her nipples, dark and at attention, jutted against the transparent cover. His mouth watered.

  With a tight fist, he gripped his towel behind his back. He should’ve grabbed his robe. Good lord, not enough coverage and every thought was showing. He should hide behind the screen, but his feet were rooted to the floor.

  “Urs, this is a terrible idea. You can’t be here. What we did the other day can’t be a regular activity.”

  “Why not?” The question was so earnest.

  “Because...” He ran his free hand through his wet hair.

  Why not exactly? Based on Hugo’s growing dedication and desperation, miracle of miracles, Urs might actually succeed in her plot and would forget all about him.

  Well, in the deepest, darkest most selfish places in his soul she wouldn’t, she’d think about him and only him, but that couldn’t possibly be true. He, on the other hand, would be a different story. Her memory—her absence would already be a stain on his soul—another ghost that whiskey and women couldn’t kill.

  Perhaps ether. He’d heard things about that, good things, frightening things too, but still better than what he did before. He clenched and unclenched his fists.

  Urs was now in front of him. She traced a hand down his chest and fingered the edge of the towel. “Besides, I don’t want to do what we did last time. Well, perhaps later. This time I want to try something new, something with one of those condoms.”

  She’d gone mad, completely out of her mind. She could not be serious.

  “No, no, no, no, Urs, I’m not taking your maidenhood. That’s completely out of the question.”

  “Jay, you’re being ridiculous. We did things that in many ways are far more intimate the other day and they were quite good, but not—” She bit her lip. “Not enough. I’ve been thinking and experimenting.”

  “Experimenting?” He would’ve raised an eyebrow if he wasn’t concentrating on every unpleasant thing he could imagine so not to lose complete control, or at the very least, hide what he couldn’t stop from rising. She was going to kill him. Now he knew what image would star in his fantasies forever. Ursula, bloody, Nunes fetching mettle, naked, on her bed, his name on her exquisite lips.

  “After we, well you, showed me what was possible, I decided to see what I could do myself and whether it was better alone or with someone else.”

  Jay threw his free hand over his mouth to contain the snicker. He wasn’t successful.

  “And what did you discover?” The words were sputtered more than spoken.

  “Very doable myself, much better with a partner, and I have a feeling highly superior with a particular partner. I’m not afraid, Jay. You’ve told me everything, but I’m not afraid.”

  Laughter died in his throat as his heart began to pound. She might not be afraid, but he was terrified.

  Urs moved back to the bed and drew her legs into her chest, under her nightgown. She was even more appealing covered and vulnerable, staring at him with her luminous eyes framed by thick, heavy, black lashes, already growing moist. Damn him, damn her, damn everything to Hell.

  He had to say yes. She’d never believe a no was the best course of action for their mutual protection. She’d hear a lie at best and a rejection at worst. He’d never lied to Urs—told a few half-truths, but never a full lie and she’d been so honest, in the most frightening way. Jay swallowed as his stomach twisted under the painful throbbing in his chest.

  His fingers itched for the pipe. He should’ve never purchased it. Why was he such a miserable excuse for a man? If only he could disappear, become nothing.

  No, not today.

  He’d think of that another day. Right now, he’d have to handle the beautiful, half-naked blonde about to cry on his bed because he wasn’t doing all the things with her that both their bodies craved.

  He picked his way over and sat next to her, keeping a respectful distance.

  “You’re my best friend, Urs. In many ways my only real friend. You say you aren’t scared, but I am. There are lines I’m afraid of crossing. You like to analyze and say there are no additional emotions involved, but I’m not going to lie to you and make those sorts of promises.”

  “I don’t need your protection.” Her lower lip quivered despite the angry snap in her voice. She was going to tear him to pieces, limb by limb, starting with both his heart and his cock.

  “No, I suppose not.” He closed his eyes.

  “Don’t patronize me.” The snap was more of a whine though the sound still twisted his gut. She had no concept of how much she tormented him. “Just want me, please.” The words were a mere whisper yet the note of desperation was unmistakable.

  Her expression almost ripped his heart from his chest. That was everything to her, wasn’t it? Being accepted, wanted? And she had no idea—if he was anywhere near worthy...

  “How could I not want you? There’s no one I want the way I want you, Urs. I dream of you every night, think about you constantly, especially alone.” He raised both eyebrows at her, unable to echo her phrasing aloud.

  “Then why won’t you?” Now she was at full whine, better than tears, yet still she chipped away at his resolve.

  He cursed in his head. “I haven’t said no.” She was going to win, wasn’t she? “I want to make sure that we are both aware what kind of boundaries we’d traverse.”

  “You take the romance out of everything.” Urs flounced herself down further on the bed, but a hint of a smile played on her lips. “Though I suppose the asking is attractive. I think I phrase it better though.”

  And he was done. “No,” was no longer an option. He couldn’t help himself. She was delicious and he was only human.

  He smirked at her. “Oh, in a few minutes, though I may not have your fancy vocabulary, I can bring everything and anything you could describe, provided you still want me.”

  “Now, there you go, how could I possibly refuse?” She drew herself up on her knees and leaned into him, brushing her lips against his.

  The contact crushed his last remaining reserves and defenses. He brought his hand around her back and pulled her onto his lap over the towel. Her lips parted for him and he was lost.

  Ursula scooted forward. She couldn’t get close enough to Jay’s body. She’d dreamt of his touch for what, hours? She could’ve sworn months. After speaking to his parents, the moment she sat in the carriage, all she could think about, all she wanted, was him. She had to be with him
, really with him, and somehow all the muddled feelings would be right.

  He traced lower and she moaned as his mouth connected with her neck—fiery heat against air-chilled flesh.

  With all her remaining strength, she withdrew her arms and worked her gown past her knees. She had to get it off. Nothing could separate them. They needed to both be free—to be as they were made.

  “Allow me,” he whispered.

  “Always the gentleman.” The laughter stumbled in her throat as he pulled the silk over her head and her bare skin skimmed over his, the only fabric between them now was his towel.

  That needed to go—post haste.

  She reached down and tugged.

  “You really are eager.” His throaty laugh echoed around the room as the rumble from his chest vibrated down her body into her core.

  He adjusted her with a single hand and removed the remaining barrier.

  Ursula leaned back and gazed at his chest. So beautiful—all broad shoulders and long, narrow torso with its smattering of chestnut hair. She trailed her pointer finger along the fascinating dragon, the head, the spine, down the tail that came so close to...

  Jay caught her wrist, brought her hand to his lips and shook his head at the slowest of speeds, brushing his lips across her knuckles with just enough pressure to drive her mad with want. “Not so fast. We need to attend to you first.”

  “Why?” She only managed the one word as he turned her hand over and kissed the inside of her wrist.

  “Besides the fact that I adore watching you take pleasure?” He took her thumb inside his mouth and teased her with both his tongue and teeth.

  Ursula could only moan and press harder against him. He needed to hurry. She’d lose her mind if he didn’t hurry.

  He gave her another gentle kiss. “This is your first time. It’ll probably pinch, but I want to make you feel as good before, during, and after as possible so it’s a pleasant pinch. Pacing is critical in these affairs.” He travelled lower, towards her elbow.