by A. J. Downey
“I know you were there, I know you were dating the guy that did it, and I know people have been giving you a ration of shit for it ever since – but the finer details? Not so much.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I uttered, and hid behind my coffee, taking a drink.
“You know what?” he said. “I can respect that. You ain’t got to talk about it. I mean, I’m still pretty new to you and I get it. I really do. Maybe someday, but today isn’t that day.”
I stared at him in open-mouthed disbelief.
“So, I guess that’s it then?” I squeaked and he leaned forward and put his mouth against mine.
My eyes fluttered shut unbidden and I tried not to wish that this wasn’t goodbye. I mean, what guy in their right mind would stick around for this?
“For now,” he said, and my breath caught in my throat. “I’ve got to get to work, but I’d like to come back here tonight. Do something low-key, maybe watch a movie or something. Cuddle.”
“You want to come back?” I whispered.
“Well, yeah.” He smiled at me and I tried not to tear up.
“You mean it?” I asked.
“Yeah, Orchid… I mean it. I like you and I don’t like to give up on the things I like just because of one outside sour taste, you feel me?”
“What did you just call me?” I asked, bewildered, wanting to pinch myself to make sure it was real.
“My pet name for you.” He smacked a kiss on the end of my nose. “Deal with it.”
“I-I don’t know what to say, what to think…” I stammered.
“You don’t have to say anything. What time are you off work?”
“Um, six, I think…”
“So way after me. I’ll come by where you work to get your keys, and have dinner ready when you get home, if you’ll let me stay.”
He stood up and looked down at me, waiting expectantly for me to reject him but I couldn’t. Not when I so desperately wanted him to be here, to stay with me… I was just shocked and amazed that he wanted to after…
“I’d like that,” I answered him and he smiled faintly and nodded.
“Good deal, I’ll see you at the mall. Just let me know what store.”
I told him the name of the department store I worked at and what department. He gave a nod and picked up a tool belt that was slung over the back of one of my dining table chairs. I blinked stupidly and he picked up his travel mug. He came over to me and leaned down giving me another quick kiss.
“Sleep some more if you can,” he said. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Okay.”
He slipped out and I watched him go, absolutely dumbfounded that I could have lucked out so completely. That he wasn’t just going to ghost on me when he had every right to run screaming as far away from me as he could get.
I sat and wondered, my lips still tingling from his kiss.
The day didn’t get any better from there, but it did get considerably worse. At least, after I got to work. My department store had a new manager and it was already off to a rocky start. She lined us up and nitpicked our hair and dress, and then proceeded to move us all over hell and gone, proclaiming we’d gotten too comfortable in our given departments and that we needed to learn every one of the departments to a ‘T’.
My first thought wasn’t really so much a thought as it was a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I prayed she wouldn’t move me to a horror show of a department, but I had no such luck in that regard – she moved me from the familiar territory of the children’s toy department to women’s clothing.
I was crestfallen, but put on a smile despite it and followed my marching orders.
It was bad. The dressing rooms were a post-apocalyptic wasteland of discarded clothing and broken hangers. I sighed and set to work putting everything to rights while my co-worker Megan rang up customers at the cashier’s stand for the department.
It felt like it took forever, but finally I swapped Megan out so that she could go to lunch. A little while later, Stoker came through.
“Hey, there you are. I’ve been looking all over the place.”
“I’m so sorry, the new manager switched us all around to different departments the minute I got here and I haven’t gotten a break yet to even give you the heads-up.”
I felt stressed, waited for him to say something hurtful, about letting him down or annoying him, but all he said was, “It’s cool, Orchid. You got the key for me?”
“Yeah, oh yeah!” I pulled my house key, which I had already taken off my ring, out of my pocket and handed it to him.
He held it up and gave it a shake and said, “I’ll get out of your hair. See you when you get home.”
“Okay,” I murmured.
He winked at me, looked like he wanted to kiss me, hesitated a moment and finally settled for, “See you, Orchid.”
“Later,” I murmured.
I wrapped my black cardigan in front of me and hugged my middle, feeling a little bereft as I watched him leave. Wishing I was going with him. I was worried about fixing this… this thing that I felt hung between us now, while, at the same time trying to wrap my head around the fact that he was still here. I mean, if he were any other guy, I would have to guess he should have hit it and quit it by now – but he hadn’t. As of right now, he was headed to my little studio to make me dinner.
How about that?
The women’s department phone rang probably forty-five minutes later, just as I was returning from my first break. Megan said, “She’s right here, she just got back,” before holding the receiver out to me.
“This is Serenity, how may I help you?”
“Ah, sorry, Orchid, you could tell your landlady and this nice officer of the law that I have your permission to be here and to please not arrest me…”
“Oh, my God! Yes! Um, hand Mrs. Sedgwick the phone…”
I unsnarled the mess I made by not having the forethought to warn Mrs. Sedgwick I had company – which I never did, so I could see why she would be concerned. When I hung up the phone I turned around to our new manager standing nearby.
“What was that?” she demanded.
“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think I was long –”
“So it was a personal call, then?”
“I’m sorry, yes, it was. It won’t happen again.”
“Right, Serena come to my office to sign your write-up before end of shift.”
Shit, you’ve got to be kidding me!
“Um, close, it’s actually Serenity, and yes, of course.”
She gave me a pointed look and said, “I don’t stand much for being corrected. Don’t forget, before you clock out.”
“Y-y-yes, ma’am.”
Tears threatened, but not for what you might think. I mean, yeah, I was upset I was being written up, but she didn’t stand for being corrected? When she got my goddamn name wrong? I was so angry, that helpless anger at being stuck, forced to endure because what else could I reasonably do? I couldn’t quit. I couldn’t punch her in the throat, or any of the people who harassed, bullied, or abused me for that matter.
I was so goddamn sick of it.
So I did the only thing I could do – I finished my shift, without taking a lunch because there was no one to relieve me when Megan was pulled to cover another department – and then I clocked out and went home. Yep, that’s right. I conveniently forgot to get my further dressing-down and to sign my write-up for earlier. Of course, I was also half hoping that she would need me going to her office to remind her to write me up in the first place. Only time would tell.
If she fired me tomorrow, I was going straight to HR. Then again, I was betting if I tried to go to HR about earlier I would just be brushed off, told that it wasn’t their job to deal with every little personality conflict, because how many times and in how many iterations had I heard that before?
God, I hated people.
Well, not all people. As much as it scared me, I really liked Stoker. I liked him a lot, and
I needed to figure out what to do. It felt like investing in anyone was a recipe for disaster when it came to my poor, battered and abused, super-fragile heart.
I thought about all of that and more as I made the drive back home, and by the time I pulled into the garage beneath where I lived, I was pretty thoroughly miserable.
I felt doomed, in a way, because I already knew it was too late. I’d let my guard down; if I’d wanted to maintain distance, I never should have slept with him, because I absolutely could not keep emotional attachment out of sex.
I was afraid ‒ I’d given Stoker a piece of my heart already, and it was a fragile thing - made of glass and there was nothing stopping him from making my heart go smash.
When I got out of the car, I could hear light music, the somewhat bluesy strains coming from the direction of Mrs. Sedgwick’s massive front porch. I hit the fob to lower the garage door and walked up the drive to quite the sight.
Stoker was seated on Mrs. Sedgwick’s top step, playing a guitar, the old woman rocking in her chair under the overhang of her covered porch. A little hibachi grill was set up at Stoker’s feet on the bottom step and a grocery bag and a bunch of fixings for the hot dogs he was cooking was arranged to one side.
I had to laugh as I walked up the path to the porch.
“Oh, Serenity! I’ve made quite the new friend while you’ve been gone!” Mrs. Sedgwick called out to me.
“I can see that!” I called back. Stoker set aside his guitar and stood up, sweeping me into his arms and smacking a kiss onto my lips. I made a startled noise and jumped as he smacked me on the ass and winked at me.
“That was for giving your landlady such a fright,” he said, with a grin that took any actual accusation or sting out of his words.
Mrs. Sedgwick just laughed and laughed. I was completely taken aback and mystified at the strange sort of friendship taking root in front of me, but it made my heart glad.
“Trust me, I’ve had all kinds of consequences for my thoughtlessness today,” I said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stoker asked, and I sighed.
“Can I change first and put some food in my face? I didn’t get lunch.”
He scowled at that and said, “Yeah. You think you can bring down what’s left of your pitcher of iced tea?” He bent and retrieved his glass from beside the little grill and shook the ice cubes in his otherwise-empty glass.
“Yeah, if you can give me a few minutes more, I’ll make some more up.”
“Whatever you need, Orchid, you got it.”
“You’ve done good with this one, my dear. He’s a good man, you should keep him.” Mrs. Sedgwick was smiling happily at the two of us and I felt my cheeks flame vermillion.
“I’ll be right back,” I muttered and made a dash for my apartment.
I set the electric kettle on in the kitchen, took out my other plastic pitcher and got the tea bags out. While the water heated, I got changed into a pair of boot-cut low-rise jeans and a white, side-zippered cheater’s corset top, aesthetically pleasing, without the inability to breathe in it. Hence why I called it a cheater’s top.
I poured the boiling water from the kettle into the pitcher and dropped the bags in. I let them go, collecting the pitcher from the fridge and taking it with me. When I came back in, I would fish out the bags, add some honey and dilute what was sure to be concentrated tea with cold water before putting it into the fridge to chill thoroughly.
I refreshed Stoker’s glass as soon as I got to him, and he held it out to me. I smiled, took it, and took a drink.
“Hot dogs?” I asked quietly and he laughed.
“I forgot to mention, I’m a pretty crap cook. I figured easy comfort food tonight.”
“It’s actually kind of perfect after the day I’ve had.”
“What happened, honey?” Mrs. Sedgwick asked, leaning forward in her chair. I took the one on the other side of the little porch table that sat low between them and Stoker sat back down on the top step, turning the hot dogs on the grill.
I told them about the new manager.
“No, the fuck she did not!” Stoker looked halfway between aghast and ready to burst out laughing when I got to the part about my name.
“I’m not joking, she had the unmitigated gall to tell me she didn’t stand for being corrected when she got my name wrong. My freaking name!”
“Well, I’ll be,” Mrs. Sedgwick tsked under her breath. “The nerve of some people!”
“Ketchup, mustard, relish?” Stoker looked to Mrs. Sedgwick first and I smiled, loving that he treated her so nice after she’d called the cops on him. He was being really understanding.
“A little mayonnaise if you please,” she said and he and I traded freaked-out looks.
“Mayonnaise?” I asked incredulously. “On a hot dog?”
“Why, yes! I like it that way,” she declared.
“At least it’s not on your peanut butter sandwich,” Stoker shrugged.
“What?” I cried.
“Swear to God, my grandma, all the time.”
“That is so wrong!” I shuddered.
“Now, no, it’s not!” Mrs. Sedgwick cried.
“Oh, no! Not you too, not on that one – if it’s true, I don’t even want to hear about it. That’s so gross!” I made a face.
“No, it’s not, it’s delicious! Your grandmother had good taste!”
Stoker handed her a plate with a hot dog in a bun and some chips. I shook my head.
“No!” Stoker shook his head, drawing out the word while he fixed another plate. “No, she did not.” He looked at me and arched a brow.
“Oh, naked, please.”
“Naked?”
“I do ketchup sometimes, just not in the mood for it right now.”
“As you wish, Orchid. Two naked hot dogs coming right up.”
Dinner was nice. I helped Stoker clean up, the dread of impending confrontation tightening my shoulders and neck in a vice-like grip. He stepped up behind me as I stirred honey into the still-warm tea, the bags having been extracted in a soggy mess onto one of my saucers to one side.
His hands fell lightly to my hips, his nose buried in my hair behind my ear as he breathed me in. I expected him to ask, to want answers, the whole story, but he stood by his word when I said as much.
“I suppose you want to know about yesterday.” My voice shook and he slid his hands up my back, thumbs digging lightly, trying to ease the tension. I gasped, half in pleasure, half in pain. He brought his lips to the side of my neck and kissed me, the pain from the careful kneading of his thumbs into muscles I couldn’t seem to relax melting away under a tingling wash of clear, sensual sensation from his lips.
“I told you I do want to know, but only when you’re ready. Not a minute before. I want you to trust me, Orchid.”
His voice was low, and my eyes drifted shut at the warmth and comfort it held.
“I do trust you,” I whispered. “I gave you the key to my house, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, baby, but that’s nothing,” he murmured and I turned in his arms to look up at him. He rested his hands on the caps of my shoulders and smiled down at me. “It’s the key to your heart that I’m after.”
“Um, uh,” I hedged, unsure what to say, my heart racing, tripping over itself to run to him despite my mind’s best effort to hold it back.
He chuckled lightly and bent to kiss me, catching my lips as much as he’d caught the rest of me off-guard. I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, my arms drifting around his neck, my lips wandering across his, tasting the sweet spiciness of my iced tea blend and the sheer maleness of him beneath it. My heart pounded painfully in my chest with just how much I wanted this even as he drew me closer to him with his hands on my ass, smoothing over the tight denim of my form-fitting jeans.
“When you’re with me, you ain’t got no worries, no cares,” he murmured, drawing me back towards my bed.
“Okay,” I whispered.
He stopped us just beside th
e bed and continued to kiss me, his fingertips sliding around my body, getting the lay of the land, so to speak. With a triumphant little chuckle, he gripped the zipper at the side of my top, lowering it gently. The thick brocade cloth sighed with relief in conjunction with my body as the restricting garment eased its hold on me.
I gasped, a slight moan escaping my lips, to be swallowed utterly by Stoker as his hand slid beneath the parted material on my side. I shuddered with anticipation, pressing myself closer to him, molding myself against the front of his body, my own hands pulling at the hem of his tee, trying to get beneath it to touch his warm skin.
“Stoker…” I whispered breathlessly when his lips moved from mine, along my jaw, before attacking that sweet spot on the side of my neck. I sucked in a sharp breath and arched into him, his hands drifting to my lower back, holding me tightly to him, possessive, protective, and I whimpered with the need to be skin-on-skin.
“I got you, Orchid. Doesn’t matter how much you beg, just know that I’ve got you and we’re doin’ this on my time,” he whispered, burying his hand in the back of my hair, his breath warm in my ear.
I couldn’t form words, but I whined pretty spectacularly. He chuckled, low, dark, and deep, and carried on at his own pace, torturing me sweetly.
14
Stoker…
I unwrapped her slowly, like a present that you were excited for, but already knew what it was. Her hair was thick, silky, and warm between my fingers where I held it at the back of her head, not to hurt her – no, she’d been through more than enough pain, but to give me that little inside edge of control. She responded to the hold I had in her hair, beautifully. Her body was taut, tighter than a guitar string, but so very still, as if she were waiting for me to pluck out a melody, and I had every intention to. One that had her arching off her bed, pressing into my body with that fine trembling that said I was frying every one of her synapses with a pleasure overload.
I had so many plans for my little orchid tonight, plans that would hopefully go off without a hitch and would leave her satiated and too exhausted to think anymore. Leave her in that good place with no worries or cares. Believe you, me, though, I had every intention of getting mine on this journey, too.