Take Me to Bed: A Collection of Naughty Bedtime Stories

by Michelle Windsor

  Driving home was a blur. When Sam arrived, her mother and father greeted her in the driveway with genuine smiles that fell short at the sight of her. Samantha knew she looked terrible. She had lost weight and seemed to have perpetual bags under her eyes.

  “Samantha?” her mother said, concern lacing her voice. “What is it, baby?”

  Unable to hold it all inside, Samantha fell to pieces and sobbed in her mother’s arms. Her parents shuffled her into the house and watched as she cried, but she never breathed a word about why. She only promised them that it would soon pass and she’d return to herself once more.

  The concern in her father’s eyes was a tough pill to swallow. He looked at her as if he saw through her. The more he gazed across the table at her, the more familiar that eerie stare seemed. When she was lying in bed that night she realized she had seen that pained look in her father’s eyes once before.

  It was the look of impotence, being completely helpless when his child needed him. He had looked that way the day of Meghan’s funeral. It was wrong to burden her parents with her own grief.

  Lying there in bed that evening, she vowed her broken heart would be hers to keep and no one else’s. There would be no more crying for her. She would move on and, once and for all, accept that Colin would never belong to her.

  At the end of July she had her second interview with Suzanne Antonelli, the principal of the school Sam had student taught with. She was offered a position with the English department on the spot and gladly accepted. She should have waited until she finished her other interviews, but she’d been so exhausted lately and the entire job hunting process was draining and she wanted it over. Sam needed to know where she was going so that she could begin setting goals again.

  On the last day of July, the eve of August the first, she would be facing her demons once more. At some point that following day Colin would no longer be Colin McCullough, but Father Colin McCullough forevermore, a man married to his Heavenly Father and never to belong to or love another living being more.

  18

  Sheilagh had waited all summer. She’d waited and bided her time for that one week a year when the Clooney’s all disappeared to the Outer Banks of North Carolina for a week of relaxation without the rest of the family. Patrick had told her that Tristan declined their offer to join them. Although he’d roomed with Ryan, Patrick’s older brother, and was practically a member of the family, he still did not want to intrude on what had always been a longstanding, private, Clooney tradition. And so it was time.

  Flipping down the visor, she applied a fresh layer of gloss to her lips and fluffed her red hair over her shoulders. As she climbed out of her car parked at the foot of her cousin’s property, twenty feet from Tristan’s truck, she adjusted her skirt and brushed the wrinkles out of her fitted tee.

  She knew her legs looked fantastic in her four-inch espadrille wedges and they added to her confidence as she sauntered up the drive. The house was dark with the others gone, but the porch light burned an orange glow around the front door. There was no overhang over the porch so when it started to drizzle Sheilagh tried not to worry too much about what it was doing to her hair.

  She rung the bell and waited. Her heart raced as she heard someone coming. She knew exactly what she was going to say and if everything went as planned she would be a very happy woman come morning.

  The door opened and she tried not to look too anxious at the sight of Tristan barefoot in jeans with nothing else. The jeans were zippered, but not snapped and they hung low on his tapered hips. His sculpted abdomen was ridged and his chest was smooth and hard. He had a silver hoop running through one flat nipple and a leather necklace with one lone shell around his neck.

  His jaw was strong and shadowed as if he hadn’t shaved in days, but Sheilagh knew he probably had that morning. His hair was mussed and badly in need of a cut. He looked as if he’d been lying around in bed all day.

  “Sheilagh?” The Texan lilt that made him extend the sh of her name always made her melt. She loved the sound of her name on his tongue.

  “Hey, Tristan.”

  She gave him that coy gaze that was ridiculously girlie, even for her, and something only he could get her to do.

  “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”

  “Everything’s fine. I just figured with Pat and the others gone you were probably lonely and I wanted to stop by to see if you needed some company.”

  He gave her that look he always did when she flirted with him. It was as though her father were standing behind her with a shotgun aimed at his balls. She knew it was her age that freaked him out, but she was an adult now and he would have to get over it.

  “Uh, now isn’t really a good time.”

  She took a deep breath and smiled. It was now or never, right?

  “Look Tristan, I know you think I’m just Ryan’s little old cousin who doesn’t know what’s good for her, but I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. I have feelings, Tristan, and I know you feel them too.”

  The drizzle was now soaking her shoulders through. She caught him taking notice of what the weather was doing to her breasts below her thin t-shirt and hid a smile.

  “Why don’t you invite me in and we can talk like two adults?”

  He swallowed slowly and cursed under his breath. Good. She was getting to him. She took a slow step closer to him and he cleared his throat.

  “Look Shei, you’re an awesome girl. You're fun and beautiful and someday you’re gonna give some lucky guy a run for his money, but I’m afraid that guy ain’t me.”

  She didn’t let his rejection deter her. She’d heard all his flimsy excuses before. If he really wanted her to believe he wasn’t interested he would have to give a damn better reason than the ones he had come up with in the past.

  “Can we just talk for a minute? You don’t need to invite me in, but…” She pouted and gave him the most cajoling look she could muster. “I’m getting wet.”

  “Fuck. Here.” He stepped back so she could get out of the rain, but still managed to block her way into the house. She didn’t mind. His insistence that she stay out allowed her to creep closer to him in order to avoid the rain. He smelled divine, like cut wood and pine.

  “Look,” she said, risking a touch to his arm. He looked at her hand resting on his forearm. She loved his muscled skin under her fingertips.

  “Don’t pretend that the two of us haven’t been dancing around this for the past several months. I know you think I’m attractive and I know you’re aware of what I think of you.”

  “Sheilagh—”

  She stepped closer until her rain dampened breasts and tummy pressed against his hard, bare chest. She looped her arms loosely around his neck and whispered, “Don’t tell me you never thought of just letting it all go, Tristan, and taking what we both know you want.”

  When she pressed her lips to his she felt him relax for a brief second before he tensed again. He grasped her arms in his hands and removed them from his shoulders, stepping back farther into the house.

  “I can’t do this, Sheilagh.”

  “Why?” She didn’t want to sound like the petulant child she knew she sounded like, but why? Why couldn’t they?

  “Because I’m seeing someone.”

  Her posture faltered. She had to have misunderstood him. One of his excuses not to date her was that he didn’t have any interest in dating anyone.

  “Who?” Her voice was suddenly strained and raspy.

  Tristan’s eyes showed his displeasure in hurting her, but she needed to know.

  “It’s not important.”

  “It is to me. You told me it was nothing personal, that you didn’t want anyone, so pardon me if I find it imperative to know who was able to persuade you otherwise when I, who was willing to be anything you needed or wanted me to be, could not."

  He brushed his knuckles over her cheek and she hated herself for being so weak and having such little self-respect that she allowed the contact.
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  “Don’t do this, Sheilagh. When I told you it wasn’t anything personal I meant it. You're sweet and one of my friends, but no matter how much you think you can be what I need, you can’t.”

  Pain, as though a hundred heated blades sliced her wide open, caused her to almost double over at the blow of his words. Her eyes blinked rapidly forcing back the tears that threatened to come.

  “I…I don’t understand.”

  He looked down. “Look, I can’t explain right now—”

  “Oh my God. You’re not alone. She’s here now, isn’t she?”

  She was going to be sick. Sheilagh practically stumbled away from him and off the porch. He stepped forward into the rain as if to comfort her, but she was so betrayed in that moment she couldn’t bear his touch. And just as she thought her heart had plummeted to the lowest of lows she discovered a whole new level of agony.

  Tristan tensed as a familiar voice called out. “Babe? Where’d you go? I thought you were going to join me in the shower.”

  No. This has to be a bad dream.

  She shook her head and Tristan said, “Sheilagh, it isn’t what you think.”

  “Luke?” How could this be? Tristan liked women. He flirted with women. He wasn’t gay and neither was her brother. “You and Luke?”

  “You’re misinterpreting the whole thing, Shei—”

  But his false words fell on deaf ears as her brother opened the door, looking for his lover and wearing nothing but a towel. Once he saw her he paled. “Sheilagh.”

  “Luke.” Her lips went numb and she had to force her words to form correctly.

  His mouth opened and closed as he thought of something to say. “I…I was doing some renovations at the guest house and I needed to shower so I stopped here to get cleaned up.”

  She was about to tell him how ridiculous his bullshit lie was, but Tristan spoke first.

  “Don’t bother, Luke. She heard you.”

  Luke stiffened as if Tristan were insinuating something he would never consider when it was, in fact, his reality. She wondered if Tristan enjoyed knowing her asshole brother thought he was too good to admit he was fucking a man like him. Did it hurt him to be denied and hidden like a shameful secret? Sheilagh would’ve never been ashamed of him. She would’ve been proud to love him, but now she understood why she never would.

  There were no words. She saw the hurt in Tristan’s eyes at Luke’s unspoken denial. She instinctively wanted to comfort him and punch her brother, but Tristan had hurt her too. Everything was suddenly different and Sheilagh didn’t want to be there anymore. Turning on her heel, she ran through the rain and back to her truck as her tears won and she began to cry.

  She didn’t know what had truly upset her. It wasn’t the fact that she’d just discovered her brother or Tristan were gay. She held no prejudice about peoples’ sexual orientation whatsoever. All she knew was that the man she had set her heart on for almost an entire year had suddenly become completely and undeniably off limits to her forever.

  As unfair as it was, Sheilagh knew she would have instantly despised any woman with Tristan, but he hadn’t been with another woman. He’d been with her brother. She wondered if the others knew about Luke. Had they all pitied her for being so naive?

  Her heart ached. Her eyes burned. And her pride stung. She wanted to kick herself for not being more intuitive. She had been so certain she knew him when really she knew nothing about him. Never in her life had she felt like such a fool.

  * * *

  When Sheilagh woke up the following morning she felt slightly better, but the moment her mind returned to the idea of her brother lovingly caressing and kissing Tristan, the crushing ache filled her heart again. Luckily the day was going to be a busy one that would leave little down time to think on how pathetic she was.

  Colin was making his holy orders. His Ordination was to take place at two o’clock at Saint Peter’s. The week before they had all gone to the new restaurant in town to toast his journey and while he had begun his path into priesthood when she was just a girl in pigtails, it was today that his course would truly begin.

  Everyone had long ago come to terms with the fact that the eldest McCullough son would never marry. There were no more regrets among the naysayers of the family. Everyone had accepted Colin’s choice and, over time, developed respect for his devotion. Today would be a proud day for not just Colin, but the entire McCullough family.

  They were out the door and on the road before many people had even awakened for the day. The plan was to make it to Philadelphia by noon so they had time to eat lunch and arrive at Saint Peter’s early enough to find seats for their large group close to the alter. When everyone split up into the four cars making the trip, Sheilagh was careful to avoid the car holding Luke.

  The city was insane. All her life she’d grown up surrounded by enormous mountains, yet being placed in the slots between so many tall skyscrapers made her feel incredibly insignificant and small. Everyone was so fashionably dressed and styled. Even the men made her feel like an unsophisticated hick.

  People moved at warp speeds and smog and honking horns polluted the air while everything from forgotten shoes to empty coffee cups littered the ground. Pages of newspapers twirled up from the curbs dancing gaily in the air for a moment in homeless winds then fluttered back to earth. No one seemed to bat an eye at such disorder.

  When they drove through Center City so that Bray could show them why he loved Philadelphia so much, she was speechless. The architecture was magnificent and although she’d seen pictures, none had done these historic buildings justice.

  She suddenly understood why Braydon had wanted to attend school in such a bustling place. Here, even the pavement pulsed with life.

  They ate lunch at a corner delicatessen that considered eight pounds of food an appropriate serving size for one person. None of them finished their meals. She felt Luke looking at her throughout lunch, but kept her eyes averted from his gaze. She knew he was worried she would tell the others his secret. She wouldn’t, but figured to let him worry, serve him right for being ashamed of having a relationship with Tristan. Tristan was a good man and he deserved better than that.

  When they arrived at Saint Peter’s, Colin was off somewhere out of sight, likely spending his last moments as an independent man reflecting on the enormity of what he was about to commit to. The others at the monastery welcomed them and allowed them to use their facility to freshen up before the ceremony.

  Saint Peter’s Cathedral was a beautiful structure. She had been so sure she’d never leave Center County, yet, since arriving to this part of Pennsylvania, she was no longer so certain. The city definitely had its appeals. In the past twenty-four hours, so many things she assumed were absolutes had changed. She dreaded to see what other dependable truths would surprise her as being only illusions.

  Many had come to watch her brother become an ordained priest. Bishop Adrian sat with his back to the center of the pulpit, his tall mitre gleaming under the chandeliers. Colin looked impeccably handsome in his white robes and golden sash. It was the first time Sheilagh could recall that her eldest brother looked nervous.

  The ceremony began with a prayer and then the bishop questioned other priests about her brother’s worthiness. When Bishop Adrian announced his approval of the others’ choice everyone clapped. Once the applause quieted the bishop began to question Colin directly.

  Colin stood with his back to the pews and faced the bishop who sat comfortably in a throne like chair.

  “Colin McCullough,” Bishop Adrian began. “Before you enter the order of priesthood you must declare before the people your intentions of such an undertaking. Do you resolve, with the help of The Holy Spirit this charge, without fail, the office of priesthood as a worthy fellow worker with the order of bishops in caring for The Lord’s flock?”

  Colin’s voice echoed through the large church. “I do.”

  “Do you resolve to exercise the ministry of the word, worthily and wisely, p
reaching the Gospel and teaching the Catholic faith?”

  “I do,” Colin answered and her mother fished a handkerchief out of her purse to dab her lashes.

  “Do you resolve to celebrate faithfully and reverently in accord with the churches tradition the mysteries of Christ especially the sacrifice of Eucharist and the sacrament of reconciliation in the glory of God and the sanctification of the Christian people?

  “I do.”

  “Do you resolve to implore with us God’s mercy upon the people and entrusted to your care by observing the command to pray without ceasing?”

  “I do.”

  “Do you resolve to be united more closely everyday to Christ, the high priest who offered himself for us, to the Father as a pure sacrifice, and with him to consecrate yourself to God for the salvation of all?”

  The parishioners waited quietly for Colin’s reply. This one was perhaps the biggest vow of all, a promise to never put another before God and hold his relationship with God above all others. When Colin hesitated a moment Sheilagh leaned forward straining to hear. The bishop seemed to be waiting as well. Father Tucker, the priest they had met earlier, shot a sideways glance at another rather large priest, yet no one said a word. Everyone simply waited for Colin to continue with his vows.

  When she heard her mother hiss, “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she began to worry, but then Colin cleared his throat and began to speak.

  19

  The start of the school year was a blessing. Samantha had been so busy readying her classroom and preparing lesson plans she was left with little free time to think of her own personal turmoil, too exhausted to hold much of a thought in whatever free time she had. On the other hand, her business led her to overlook other things that normally would’ve come to her attention sooner had she not been so preoccupied with her new job. Important things.