Jack was busy, but took her call. “Yes. Good to see you happy, Alana. I won’t be home till late. Go.” And he hurried off the phone.
“I’ll meet you at Waikiki Beach by Joe’s fruit stand in half an hour,” she told Dylan, feeling a little guilty for having only said she was going surfing with a friend. “I’ll just go home grab my suit and board.”
HE WAS THERE WAVING when she arrived, racing her to the water. And the afternoon was magical. It had been a while. Alana marveled at Dylan’s stance on his board, gliding, riding the waves. But soon, after a lot of paddling, she could stand again, and catch a wave. She was one with it. It was like floating on air. Weightless. Wonderful.
They toweled dry, finally, laughing, exhilarated, wishing the darkness away. Droplets of water glistened on Dylan’s brawny sun-tanned body, and Alana couldn’t help a little tingling in hers. “Thanks, Boss, for a great time!” she laughed looking up at him. He smiled a crooked smile. “See you on Monday!” and she hurried away without looking back.
If he’d thought her quick exit was strange he didn’t show it, however, and things remained comfortable and casual between them. Every so often when everything was running smoothly at the Centre, Alana and Dylan, now great friends, knocked off early and surfed together, went diving, hiking and cycling, sometimes with Marie, sometimes alone. There were times when a brush of the hand, a look, the sound of his voice . . . sparked a shiver, but they remained, resolutely, just friends.
Chapter 11
Soft candlelight, relaxing jazz music, fine wine and Jack’s favorite dinner, leg of lamb made for the perfect romantic evening at home. Looking out over the water, the sunset glowed purple, pink and orange against the cerulean sky.
Alana had dressed for the occasion in her sexiest loungewear, a long, slinky black dress with spaghetti straps. A touch of make-up, an emerald necklace emphasizing her dark eyes, and a touch of perfume created the sexy aura she hoped would lead to the erotic passion she craved. Tonight she would agree to a wedding date, completing the dream.
They sat on the balcony, gently tickled by a warm breeze. Alana listened raptly as Jack talked about the newest tile technology, problems with shipments and rising costs. She chewed, sipped, nodded, struggling valiantly to understand and empathize.
When the conversation reached a lull, Alana said, “I had a long talk with the sweetest little girl at the Centre today. Well, she’s sixteen and she has a baby. Her parents threw her out. Can you imagine? So, she’s homeless . . .” Jack leaned back in his chair, his eyes cold, dead, flat.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
He breathed deeply, sitting up straight, his expression softened. He leaned forward, and his voice took on a soothing tone. “Alana, my dear, I’m glad that you seem to be happier these days. And I appreciate that you keep our lives running smoothly. But are these really the kind of people you should be associating with, do you think?”
Alana sat stunned for a moment. “These kind of people?” she asked, her voice weak.
“Homeless people . . . street people . . . It’s one thing to help them, but when you start becoming involved . . .” How could he make her understand?
Alana breathed deeply, her mind a - whirl. “Jack, they’re people! They’re people with feelings, hopes, problems . . . , like you and I. What some of them have had to live through, had to face . . . You have no idea.”
“They’re just not our kind of people, Alana.” He lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. His voice was calm, begging for her understanding.
“Jack, there are kids whose homes were toxic, and they’re just trying to get on their feet. There are people struggling to overcome addictions. People with a mental illness that keeps them from making it on their own . . . People with no place to go. Beautiful people . . .” Tears sprang to her eyes. I’ve grown to love them!
“Losers.” His voice was flat.
Alana felt the heat flush through her body. Her heart pounded. Trembling, she stood, smashing her hip against the table, creating a clatter. “I was one of those people once.” She exhaled. “My parents were alcoholics. You would have called us Those People. Poor. Hurting. I left when I was sixteen. Went to a homeless shelter for a while. I was one of those people! I’m tired of being ashamed of that!”
He sat serenely staring at her as she began to rant, his upper lip curled, infuriating her further.
“How can you judge?” she screamed. “You! You, who’ve had a company, wealth, everything handed to you on a silver platter! Yet you have no humanity. You sit here in your ivory tower judging people who have faced struggles you have no clue about! You disgust me!”
He remained maddeningly cool, leaning back in his chair, shaking his head slightly, his expression one of superiority; disgust. Grabbing her glass of wine, Alana threw it at him. Turning, not even looking to see his reaction, she stormed through the balcony doors, across the opulent living room, into the bedroom. Grabbing her suitcase from the closet, she threw clothing, jewelry, make-up; everything that was hers, into it, jamming it shut. She slipped the ring off and left it on the kitchen counter, taking one last, lingering look because she knew that she would likely never wear anything as expensive again.
As she stomped through the penthouse and out the door she glanced toward the balcony. Jack sat where he’d been earlier, immaculate - looking (despite the wine, which either didn’t hit him or he had wiped off) composed and remote.
ALANA HADN’T REALLY appreciated before this how warm and welcoming Marie’s kitchen was. How comfortable. They sat at the table sharing a bottle of wine.
Alana reached out to pour herself a glass. “It should’ve been red I threw!’ she chortled. “Now I wish I’d looked at his face.”
“So, what now?” Marie asked. “Will you go back?”
“No, Marie. Funny thing, I thought I wanted that world. And it’s beautiful. I think you might like it.” She smiled and winked. “Shoulda been you who met Jack that night!”
Marie laughed, “Yeah, it didn’t look too bad to me!”
Alana looked heavenward, a far-away look in her eyes. “I realize now that I was playing a role – all the time. I never felt like the real me was good enough. Do you know what I mean?”
Affection glowed in Marie’s eyes as she looked thoughtfully at her fried. “I think I do.”
“I tried to be charming, appropriate at all times, perfect . . . And that ain’t me!” She laughed. “Besides, there’s no way Jack would want anything to do with the ranting crazy - woman he saw tonight!” As she looked toward the doorway her breath caught in her throat. There stood Dylan, big and dark and beautiful. With a wave of his hand he disappeared down the hallway.
IT WAS DECIDED. ALANA would stay at Marie’s until the renters of her condo’s lease was up. Dylan stayed downstairs and kept to himself, so Alana was given the spare bedroom. After saying their good - nights, Alana fretted and paced the floor of the tiny bedroom, chewing her once perfect nails. Glimpsing her reflection in the windows, she looked at it through the eyes of her younger self. Is this really the person she wanted to grow into? Someone who was so afraid of the past that it prevented her from being happy?
The next morning, after helping herself to a bowl of muesli and skim milk, Alana tidied Marie’s kitchen and sat enjoying a cup of coffee in the quiet house. Both Marie and Dylan had gone off to work. She glanced at Dylan’s jean jacket hanging on a hook in the entrance. Even the sight of his clothing turned her on. She remembered the masculine smell of him, his big, powerful body, his muscles beneath her fingers, his laughing brown eyes. Her body tingled as she relived the passion they’d shared. Did he know how sexy he was? Smiling to herself, she thought of the fun they had had together. Hiking, biking, surfing, swimming, diving . . . He had a depth and a seriousness to him, but oh, how he liked to have fun. She pictured him as he was at the Centre, casually running a tight ship. His fervency for helping others was paramount, but he did it in an easy - going, collaborative way. The staff and
the clients loved him. Marie’s kid brother had grown up so suddenly.
And he’d loved her. Knew her as the person she was, and had loved her. But did he still? During these months she’d worked for him they’d been friendly, but that was all. Though she felt a tremor when they touched accidentally, and couldn’t help looking at him with a kind of yearning, their relationship had been strictly platonic. He showed no signs of anything more than that. She’d become a friend, a volunteer that worked for him. Of course, I was living with Jack . . . What would he think, then, if she went to him now with her feelings and regrets? Could he respect a woman that jumped from one relationship into another right away?
Dylan was a person who hadn’t run away from his past; wasn’t ashamed of having been raised on the wrong side of the tracks. And was hers all so ugly? Yes, her parents were poor. They’d been addicted to alcohol. They were drunk sometimes, embarrassing. Many a night she’d rummaged for food, escaping to her bedroom or the homes of friends. But they’d never wanted to hurt her. She’d been the center of their lives; their only child. She’d never been beaten or totally neglected. Only humiliated.
Grabbing her keys and purse, Alana jumped in her car and drove, aimlessly at first. She passed through the cultural side of town, over the bridge, towards the less privileged areas. As she did so memories came flooding back, not all of them unpleasant. She thought of the teasing and ridicule, of course, for those things would always be with her, but she also thought about how her parents had always made sure she had a Christmas present, how they'd always given her the biggest portions at dinner; had, in their own way, made sacrifices for her. They had taken her camping and to the beach often. She’d had the freedom to become a good swimmer, too surf, to dive off cliffs . . . They’d been barely able to look after themselves, she realized now. They had always loved her.
By the time she drove through the houses with the cracked windows and broken screen doors, to the abandoned buildings with boarded up windows, the tears were streaming down her face and she hated herself for how she had treated her mom and dad. She had run away to a shelter at sixteen and never looked back. She’d betrayed everything they had sacrificed for her.
Alana could barely hold herself together as she pulled up outside the Centre. As she walked through the cafeteria the smiles and greeting the clients gave her as she passed them warmed her heart. Striding purposefully toward Dylan’s office, she quietly opened the door.
What she saw made her gasp. The color drained from her face. She stood there a moment, feeling a sudden coldness that hit her to the core. Then, spinning around in tumultuous shock, she ran.
Chapter 12
Alana barely remembered the drive back to Marie’s house; a haven as safe as she could find. Flashes of the scene she’d witnessed in Dylan’s office swam before her eyes. There they’d stood, in front of his desk. Gina, a sweet young red-headed volunteer, had her body pressed against him, her head buried in his chest. His arms were wrapped around Gina’s waist, his face in her hair.
What did I expect? she asked herself. Had she thought he’d just wait around while she was practically married? And Gina was so much more his age. Cute, nubile, young . . . But Alana couldn’t help the tears; the sense of loss and longing she felt.
Flopping on the bed in Marie’s guest-room, she stared up at the ceiling. Why had she not seen it? Well, she had. Why hadn’t she acknowledged it? Yes, he was young, and certainly not rich. He reminded her of all the things she’d wanted to escape. But oh, how she loved him. It would be a long time before the hole in her heart healed.
Through her open window she heard foot - steps coming up to the back door. Marie must be home early, she thought. But she remained where she was, not wanting to talk in her present state. She heard the key in the door. Someone entered the kitchen.
“Alana?” It was Dylan. Why was he here? She wanted to shrivel up and disappear. Humiliation enveloped her. Closing her eyes, she willed him to leave. Her bedroom door opened. “Alana, what’s wrong?”
Alana took a deep breath, struggling to appear normal. “Hi, Dylan.” She gave him a weak smile. “I think I’ve got a bit of a stomach flu is all.”
He moved toward the bed, looking down on her, concern suffusing his face. “I just saw the tail - end of you running from my office.”
She inhaled deeply, looking up at him with pained eyes. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you and Gina.”
He smiled a crooked smile. “I thought that’s what you might think,” he said. “It wasn’t what you imagine.”
“It’s none of my business,” she squeaked.
He sat down on the bed, brushing the hair from her eyes. “Nevertheless, I need you to know. It wasn’t what you think. Gina’s father died. She’d just gotten the news. I was comforting her. That’s all there was.”
She slid him a guarded look. His eyes burned with passion. He was telling the truth, she knew. There she’d gone again. Jumping to conclusions. Running away.
Affection glowed in his eyes. The way he looked at her made her dizzy with excitement. “Alana, it’s always been you. Only you.”
She looked up at him with glossy eyes, and reached to pull his handsome face toward her. His kiss was soft and sensuous, lingering. When his lips and tongue left hers, he looked deeply into her eyes. “I hoped you’d come back to me.” And he kissed her again, hungrily now, his tongue diving into her mouth, dancing with heated lust. Her body was all nerve endings, all desire. She arched her back as he kissed her neck, her throat, nibbling nuzzling, pecking her skin. Her eyes fluttered closed. She shivered and pulled at his earlobe with her teeth. Besides the tumult of blood, the giddy spin of it all she was aware of everything around her: sunlight pouring into the room, his stubble chafing her face, hot breaths crashing over her skin, his manhood pressing through his jeans against her body. She reached down, unclasped his belt, and opened his fly. An invitation he accepted readily. Stopping to pull her shirt over her head, he pulled off her bra, tossing it to the floor. For a moment he sat back, looking at her through smoky eyes. Then, grasping her skirt in his large hands, he pulled it from her as she lifted her hips, allowing it to slide easily down her legs. His breath ragged now, he pulled her soaked panties from her, and stood up to shed his own clothes. Her skin ached, begging for his touch.
He lowered himself to the bed, and his mouth met hers once more. Then, nibbling her neck, down to her breasts, with slow, lazy circles he teased her hardening nipples. She moaned, “ohmygod, Dylan . . .”. Her voice was raspy, quivering. Trailing kisses over her ribs, her smooth belly, past her shaven mound he found the opening of her petals with his tongue. Need pulsed deep in her belly. She pushed herself into him, and his tongue struck her womanhood, sending a jolt of electricity streaming throughout her body. His hair tickled her thighs. With his tongue, he licked lightning - quick flicks around her vaginal entrance, creating a fiery massage, and she raised her hips, wanting more. Guttural grunts escaped her lips as his tongue licked her inner lips, then struck directly on her clit. “Aaahhh.” She squirmed from side to side, rocked by a hot pleasure that came in jolts with every lick. When, finally, the heat rippled through her, causing her body to buck and spasm, he chuckled with delight.
“Oh, baby, fuck me,” she whimpered, tangling her fingers in his thick hair, pulling him upward. He raised himself on his arms and looked at her, a lopsided smile on his face. “There’s nothing in this world I’d rather do, “he said as he slid upward, his hard dick rubbing against her leg. His mouth met hers, and she tasted her own juices, sweet and salty. His manhood rested against her folds, and she wriggled with anticipation, rubbing him against her, grasping him like a ravenous nymph. The friction of his entrance created a wave of pleasure that traversed her pussy, into her pubis and down her spine. He penetrated in short, shallow strokes at first, and she gloried in the joining of their bodies, his chest against her breast, his shoulders looming over her. She sucked his neck, relishing the saltiness of his sweat. He raged inside
her. She heard his breathing quickening. Wrapping her legs around him, she urged him on, her body moving as he thrust. “It’s you, my love, just you,” he murmured in her ear. His thickness drove her wild, and her panting aroused him further. This time she screamed her orgasm as it shuddered throughout her body. With a groan, she felt him jerk as his body slackened above her. They lay there a long time as their quick breaths subsided into crooning and love - talk.
Chapter 13
Dylan patted Alana’s shoulder as he looked across at her from the driver’s seat. “It's going to be okay,” he said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She felt her stomach churning, as her leg bounced erratically on the seat. Oh, how she wanted to back out! But she'd promised Dylan that she wouldn't run away from things any more. With him by her side she could do it.
As it turned out, the couple renting her condo were anxious to be released from their lease they had a job opportunity on the mainland, so Alana was able to move home. She had secured her old job as well. Work at the Centre was lessened to the odd evening and some days on week-ends. She was a working girl again, no longer living the life of luxury she’d enjoyed with Jack. But she had no regrets. Apart, perhaps, from agreeing to this.
“They're going to be happy to see you,” he reminded her, but she wasn't sure of that. After all, she had run away without any word, never once letting her parents know that she was healthy and fine. She hadn’t shown them an ounce of gratitude. They had every right to hate her, and she was fully prepared to feel their wrath. She breathed deeply, trying to remain calm.
They had arranged to meet in a small cafe. Alana and Dylan sat in a booth, jittery and on edge, sipping watery coffee. Alana’s eyes flitted constantly toward the door. Maybe they won’t show. She’d almost be relieved. Then, the door swung open and there they were. Two shrunken people, poorly dressed; their faces ravaged by time unhealthy living. They were a little more stooped, their grey hair thinner, their skin more sallow and wrinkled, but it was them all the same. They stood inside the doorway for a moment, looking around. Their gestures were familiar. The way her dad held his finger against the side of his nose for a moment, her mom’s jerky movements as she looked to him for support, her eyes flashing panic for a moment. Why, they’re as nervous as I am! Still the same kind brown eyes, dulled with age, but familiar nonetheless. Alana stood and tentatively moved towards them. The light of recognition shone in their eyes and they smiled at her. She smiled back.
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