by Nella Tyler
She didn’t stop to think about it, but moved to lie next to him, wrapping one arm over him. His hand returned to her breast, sliding inside the shirt to gently stroke her nipple. She drew in her breath, startled but strangely not wanting him to stop. All the promises she had made to herself left in that moment.
She wanted to be with him. She wanted to be with Cole.
His fingers opened each button of the shirt, one by one. Gilda lay still, as still as a doe with her nostrils held high, looking for the scent of danger. Cole intended no danger, however. He opened the shirt to its last button and then laid it back so that he might touch her bare skin. His fingers gently memorized the curves of her body, moving upward to cup and encircle her breast and then downward to her womanhood.
He laid his hand over her pussy, excited by the discovery that her hair there was fine and downy soft. With his index finger, he gently parted those woman’s lips to begin an exploration inside. She groaned as he pressed more deeply, finding her filled with her own wetness. He sampled her with his fingertip and brought it out, touching it to his tongue so that he might taste her and know her scent.
Gilda could not keep herself from rolling toward him, one leg creeping over his thigh in an effort to get closer. Skin against skin, they began to explore one another’s bodies. Each inch, each touch, each new sensitive spot brought new delight and longing.
Cole’s arm trapped her heart against his chest as his mouth found hers. He kissed her — hard — and with a longing built of weeks of need for her. She gave herself up to him, flexible and malleable.
His tongue traced the inside of her ear, and she shuddered lightly from the sensations. He bent over her now and took her nipple into his mouth, sucking upon her while his fingers rubbed the other. Gilda’s head rolled against the pillows, and her hips raised themselves of their own volition in an effort to find him.
Cole did not deny her request. He rose above her, his hand parting her legs, and she saw but a moment’s glimpse of his swollen member as he lowered himself and pushed into her.
It was a cry of relief and a cry of ecstasy that escaped her lips. Cole was easily twice the size of Scott, and Gilda felt stretched like a canvas over a frame. She matched his thrust with the lift of her hips as he plunged deeply into her. Her arms went up to encircle his neck as she craved his chest to press against her stimulated nipples.
He began slowly, each stroke tentative and gentle in its approach. Before long, however, he could not hold himself back, but drove into her harder and harder. He could hear her calling his name and in his frenzied need for her, hammered her faster until the sound of his torso meeting hers hammered the rhythm that came only with the ancient coupling of two bodies.
Cole took what he desired, and her name was Gilda.
He opened his eyes long enough to see her long beautiful hair trailing across the pillow, lit by the moonbeams through the window. Her eyes were half opened, dark orbs rolled upward as she gave herself to him, thrust after thrust. Her mouth was partially open, gasping for air, and at the same time her tongue quested for his flesh.
He felt the heat rising, and he could feel it within her. They crested together and there was a cry, animal in nature and ethereal in pitch. When it was over, he rolled to his side and took her with him, pulling her heart against his chest so that he might envelop her as she completed her shudders.
Her face nuzzled into the hollow just below his shoulder blade, and he could feel her soft breasts, full and warm against his chest. They both knew completeness, and with that, they fell asleep.
Chapter 19
New York was not a city of the sun. The golden orb never fully filled the sky, but lent a warmish light to the cold concrete of the city’s buildings and streets. Nothing was more valued in the city than a window through which you could see the sun.
Cole stirred first, his senses alerted by the fact that he was not alone in the bed. No, indeed, there was a soft creature with long, light locks and alabaster skin nestled against him. Trying not to disturb her, he rose from the bed and went into the bathroom. When he emerged, he found she had awakened and was sitting in the middle of the bed, the sheets held up to her chin and a tentative look upon her face.
“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked him, her voice concerned, but loving.
“I’m much better, in many ways,” he told her, a grin underscoring his words.
“Shame on you. I might even think that you pretended that whole thing just to get me into your bed.” She teased him, knowing he would understand.
“Would that have been such a horrible thing?”
“No, I guess not. After all, I did come in here willingly.”
“Yes, you certainly did, and I’m very glad for it. Thanks to your ministrations, I’m feeling much better this morning. Though, I do hope not all your patients get that kind of treatment,” he teased. “I’m going to leave you to your morning ritual while I go into the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee.”
With that, he crossed the room, still naked, and disappeared down the hallway. Gilda sat there momentarily, the image of his muscular buttocks making her feel warm in remembrance. With a sigh, she rolled from the bed and found her way into the shower and then dressed in her clothes.
By the time she made it to the kitchen, Cole was standing before the broad windows of the living room, a cup of coffee in one hand and his manhood strong and erect before him. She came closer and as he turned, she could feel herself salivate at the sight of him. She could not help herself, but came close to him and knelt before him, taking his penis into her mouth.
Cole’s knees wanted to buckle, and he almost dropped the cup of coffee. As it was, he managed to set it quickly down on a nearby table and then put his hands on the back of her head as she fed off of him, the motion exciting him beyond belief.
“No, not like this,” he told her, his hands beneath her arms pulling her upward until she stood before him. He opened her pants and pushed them down, picking her up and laying her on the couch so that her legs were splayed wide. He bent over her long enough to kiss her deeply and then entered her, gentle and aware that she would still be tender from the night before.
Over and over and over, Cole pushed into her, sliding out slowly to the point of near removal before plunging deep, firmly but gently, once again. Gilda’s head rolled from side to side with the sensations, and her right leg fought to lay over the sofa’s back so that she might be more fully opened to him.
Cole continued until he felt her begin to swell and shudder in her orgasm. He let go then, filling her with his seed, and when it was over, he laid upon her, carefully supporting the bulk of his weight on his arm.
“Gilda…” he began, but she quickly threw her hand up over his mouth.
“Don’t say it, please. Remember the rule.”
“But…”
She laid her hand quickly over his mouth again and shook her head. “No, please don’t say it; don’t ruin everything. It’s too soon — too soon, Cole.”
Even though he knew what he wanted to say, he understood that she wasn’t ready to hear it. Therefore, he kissed the palm of her hand and held his silence. Later, when the glow had faded and they began to rise from the sofa, Gilda spoke.
“Cole, I want you to know, I know what you were going to say. I want to say the same thing, but I can’t, not yet. Please try to understand. Last night with you was beautiful, something I’ve never known before. I have to leave now. It has nothing to do with you, but I have to go.”
He opened his mouth, but realized he would be breaking one of the rules if he pushed and closed it quickly, nodding and then coming close to kiss her. “I understand. I understand better than you know.”
She picked up her things and headed toward the elevator. “Let me call you this time,” she said. “You should go back to bed and rest some more. You have training tomorrow, and you’ll need your full strength. I’ll call you this evening, I promise.”
He nodded and wal
ked her to the elevator and they smiled as they realized that he was standing there stark naked. Somehow, it all seemed so very normal, though. He kissed her once more before the elevator doors closed and then he returned to bed.
Gilda practically floated out of the building and into the taxi that the doorman called for her. The city never seemed so beautiful as it did that morning on her way home. Even the lack of direct sunshine was unnoticed. The huge display windows seemed to sparkle like diamonds. People, who were normally dour and angry, seemed to be smiling. Even the leaves on the trees seemed to be waving at her as she drove by.
There didn’t seem to be anything in the world that could go awry at that moment.
When she arrived at the apartment house, she unlocked the door and went inside, calling Carson’s name. He didn’t come as he normally did, running down the stairs and throwing himself into her arms. Mrs. Crutcher appeared to her right, just outside of the small parlor that was maintained for visitors. “Oh, Gilda, there is someone here to see you,” Mrs. Crutcher said.
Puzzled, Gilda removed her coat and threw it, along with her purse, on the entry table. She walked into the parlor and her mouth opened. There sat Scott, with Carson sitting on his lap. Gilda felt ill.
Chapter 20
When Gilda recovered, Mrs. Crutcher’s worried face blocked her view. As she gathered her thoughts, she felt the stiffening terror return and hoped that when Mrs. Crutcher moved, her memory would be proven wrong — but Mrs. Crutcher did move and her memory proved accurate. Scott sat there in the parlor of the very place she had escaped to, and what was more, their son was seated on his lap.
He had not moved to help her to her feet from where she had fallen in shock, although she hadn’t really expected him to. Carson, however, leapt from his lap and wrapped his chubby arms around Gilda’s head. “Mama, Mama! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, darling. Mama is just fine. Mrs. Crutcher, would you take Carson upstairs with you so that I might speak with this man?”
Mrs. Carson nodded, taking Carson by the hand and waddling slowly up the stairs. “I’m leaving my door open. You call me if you need me!” she called over her shoulder.
Gilda sat up and let the dizziness settle before she stood. She walked over to the front door and opened it, saying, “You were just leaving.”
Scott chuckled, a sound she had hoped she would never hear again in her entire life. “I’m not going anywhere just yet. But you mind telling me where you’ve been all night? According to Carson, you don’t sleep here at home anymore.”
She knew he was baiting her by dragging Carson into the conversation. He knew her greatest fear and that would be the button he’d push.
“What do you want?” she asked him as she slammed the door.
“I thought I might come for a visit.” He pretended to examine his fingernails as he waited for her reaction. Gilda’s stomach felt sick as her mind whirled, trying to come up with the magic words that would make him leave.
“There’s nothing here for you. We are divorced. You do not have visitation rights, remember? That was part of the deal. Now, get up out of that chair and get your lazy ass out of my home or I’m calling the police.”
“Oh, is that so? Well, as it happens, I have just as much right to be here as you do.” There was a smirk on his face that told her he was up to no good.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, it seems that your Mrs. Crutcher had an extra room that was vacant. Well, it’s not any longer. I live here now.”
His words knocked the wind out of Gilda. In her darkest hours, she could not have imagined a situation such as this. It defied her ability to think straight. She gathered her things and started up the stairs toward Mrs. Crutcher’s apartment.
Once inside the door, she closed it firmly and turned to her landlady. “He tells me you rented him an apartment?”
Mrs. Crutcher’s head was shaking. “I didn’t know who he was until it was too late.”
“Oh, I don’t blame you but I wish you hadn’t done that. Carson…” she looked at the boy, “go on down to our apartment and lock the door behind you. Go straight there and don’t talk to anyone, especially that man downstairs.”
“You mean my daddy?”
Gilda thought she would vomit on the spot. This was her worst nightmare. She had moved a thousand miles into a giant city with no job and no friends in order to escape a maniac and here he was, sleeping on the other side of the wall from her. And what was worse, Carson knew all about it. “Do as I tell you, son,” she choked out.
“Mrs. Crutcher, you know I love you and I don’t blame you for this. You had no way of knowing. But please, don’t ever, ever let Carson be alone with him. He does not have visitation rights, and I’m afraid he might kidnap Carson. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, but it may be drastic.”
With that, she turned and went back downstairs to the parlor where Scott was waiting, a sickly smile pasted across his face.
“So?” He sat forward onto the end of his seat. “I wasn’t lying, was I?”
“How did you find me?”
He stood and walked over to a library table that sat before the front windows. He reached inside his jacket and extracted an envelope which he threw on the table. Gilda took three steps closer to look at it and her heart sank as she saw that she had sabotaged herself. There, as plain as day, was the envelope with the return address of the New York City Police Department Headquarters. Down and to the right of the return address, in her very own handwriting, was the word “Mama.”
Gilda threw her hand across her heart. She had, in her own stupidity, given Scott exactly what he needed: a map to find her.
Her thoughts began to flame as she relived the recurring nightmare in which she always was trying to elude someone chasing her. She knew in her heart it was Scott, and she was intent on outwitting him. And there, on the library table, was the proof that she had outwitted herself. “We’ll see about this,” she said.
Gilda half ran, half tripped up the stairs to her apartment, and she let herself inside and double-locked the door behind. The empty apartment Scott had rented was next door to her own. It was one door only away. She leaned against her door, trying to gather her thoughts and come up with an escape plan.
There was absolutely no way that she could remain there. Scott would bide his time, and eventually, he would take Carson and she might never see him again. That would be worse than death. It meant she could lose her child.
“Carson, do as Mama tells you now and don’t argue or ask questions. I want you to pull that old suitcase out from under your bed. I want you to put everything from your closet and drawers into it, mash it down real good, okay? If it doesn’t all fit, then get rid of the clothes from summer. Keep your winter clothes and don’t forget to pack your toothbrush.”
“Are we going somewhere, Mama?” Carson asked her.
“I said don’t ask any questions. Just do as I say and do it now.”
Gilda sprang into action, pulling a second suitcase out from the back of her closet. With very little planning, she packed as much she could into its confines. She pulled a second container, a plastic file box with a handle, from the closet, as well. From this she pulled the cash she kept hidden, Carson’s birth certificate, and whatever important papers she could quickly find into the suitcase. She pulled several layers of clothes out and put them on, one over another. It would keep her warm, but it wouldn’t keep her from shaking. Shock had already begun to set in.
“Carson?” she called the boy, but not too loudly. She didn’t want Scott to hear that she was upset. “Come on in here and let’s have some dinner. Then, I’m going to let you watch TV, really late. We’ll make this a special day, do you hear?”
Carson nodded. “Yes, Mama.”
“Now, go on in there and wash your hands. I’ll have dinner ready in a few minutes.”
When Carson left the room, Gilda sprang into action, going through the cupboards to throw toget
her a sizable meal. It might have to last them for some time. She decided to make spaghetti; its fragrant aroma was something Carson adored and would calm her nerves, as well.
The smell of garlic and tomato wafted beneath her apartment door and evidently, Scott picked up on it. There was a knock at her door and she opened it, leaving the chain in place. Scott stood there.
“What do you want?” she asked him. He looked pretty much the same as he had four years earlier when she left, except his skin was pasty and his nose red from liquor.
“That smells pretty good. I haven’t had the chance to get to the store yet. You wouldn’t happen to have an extra plate, would you?” His hand raised, and he began to push against the door.
“No!” Gilda slammed the door; she heard him chuckle as she did so. She heard him go back into his room and she hoped, for the first time in her life, that he had booze in there. If he started drinking soon, he would pass out and not hear them leave.
She and Carson ate their supper on TV trays before the set. Carson didn’t understand why he was getting this special privilege, but was smart enough not to question it.
Gilda could feel her eyelids grow heavy as sitcom after sitcom rolled across the screen. Carson had already fallen asleep, his curly head lying against her arm. She lifted it and held him close against her, memorizing the smell of his hair. She continued to wait.
After a while, Gilda went through the apartment and turned off all the lights, as well as the television. Carson did not stir. She sat with him in the darkness, waiting. Sometime after midnight, she went into her bedroom and eased the door closed. She got beneath the covers and in a very quiet voice ordered a taxi. She left instructions that it should not honk, but simply wait at the curb. Then she went to the window to watch.
She didn’t have to wait long; the cab must’ve been already in the general area. She walked into the living room and eased Carson’s jacket onto him, waking him up and holding her finger to her lips to urge him to be quiet. It was difficult, but she managed to hold both their suitcases under one arm and his hand with the other.