by Anna Ferrara
I nodded and watched her dart into the bathroom as if she had something to hide. It was unusual for room service to arrive that quickly, I knew, but I went to open the door without thinking too much about it all the same.
The door came open and I saw, not room service, but Paul, with one hand full of Chinese takeout and one large bouquet of red roses in the other. She grinned at me, shoved the bouquet of roses into my hands and went right in. “To cheer you up,” she said. “And I heard how much you wanted to get the whole eat-more-Chinese-food thing started, so I got you these.” She went to place the six boxes of takeout on the tin can table but froze when she caught sight of Arden Villeneuve’s bag on the floor next to one of the leather chairs.
I shut the door behind me and turned to Paul. “Paul—”
Before I could even get anywhere, Paul marched to the bathroom door and swung it wide open. The door met the wall behind it with a startling loud bang.
Arden Villeneuve screamed like she had been caught with her pants down even though she had only been standing in the middle of the bathroom, impeccably dressed. She regarded Paul and me with wary eyes then said, “Hi. Paula.”
‘Paula’ stared at her without blinking for a few seconds, after which her face suddenly morphed into one of fury. “Get out. Now!”
“Okay! Okay…” Arden Villeneuve frowned at me and the roses in my arms as she went towards the door. She looked... scared. “I’ll wait outside, okay?”
Paul slammed the door right in her face without giving her a reply. Then, Paul bolted the door’s two locks and dashed over to the vintage closets like her life depended on it. “We have to go, Lane!” She dragged our two backpacks out of the closets and began stuffing all our clothes into them the way she had done once before.
“Why?” I managed to say when the meaning of her actions finally registered within my brain.
“Arden texted CRO while you were ordering lunch! They’re coming for us right now!”
“CRO? Arden doesn’t know about CRO—”
“She thinks they’re part of Wonderdrug! She thinks they’re doctors and they told her we’re mentally insane so no prizes for guessing whose side she’s on now!”
“Wait, I didn’t see her talking to anybody when I was—”
“CRO’s fast as hell, Lane, so I suggest you move!” Paul pushed past me and darted into the bathroom. “Grab that sculpture I bought! The one with the a-ok sign. Smash it over her head! We can’t have her following us!”
What? “No, wait! Paul, she admitted to knowing me and she looked… pretty darned upset when she was telling me about it.”
“Not now, Lane! Just knock her out!”
“No! I’m not hurting Arden! I love—”
Paul emerged from the bathroom with her hands full of toiletries and hand towels and there was rage all over her face. “Stop it, Lane! That woman’ll never love you the way… you want her to.” She marched over to the backpacks and stuffed the toiletries into various empty pockets.
“How do you know? I’ve seen the way she looks at me, or at least, peeps at me! I’m pretty sure she doesn’t feel nothing towards me!”
“She doesn’t love you!”
“But I love her! Can’t you understand that?”
Paul zipped up the last of the backpacks’ pockets and stared at me with the most unusual expression on her face—like she was furious and confused yet amused and not convinced all at once. The expression vanished when Paul took in a deep breath and licked her lips. “Lane, that woman likes money, power, fame, and you’re right smack at the bottom of the consumerist food chain. She likes that you know how to push every last one of her buttons but you’re not good enough for anything else but sex! Not good enough for her to marry, not good enough for her to associate with! Can’t you understand that!”
The sound of Paul’s voice seemed to morph into claws once it hit my insides. It clawed at my heart so tightly, my heart hurt, and the blood that travelled out of it subsequently began to feel sour. I did understand Paul’s words. Oh, all too well, because they were simply, matter-of-factly, true. I knew I had nothing to offer Arden Villeneuve. I had no lion enclosure, I had no ice-rink swimming pool, I didn’t even own a beat up car or a cheap home. That was the reason I never dared tell Arden Villeneuve I loved her. I knew she would reject me outright. I was a nobody. I was, frankly, ashamed of myself and everybody, even Paul, knew I should be. I felt a lump appear in my throat and felt it grow with every subsequent breath of mine. I blinked hard to make sure the lump stayed away from my eyes. “Fuck you,” I said.
I went right up to Paul and glared with all the fight I had left in me. “You spent your whole life in an institution, behaving like a retard. You’ve achieved even less than I have which makes you more of a loser than I ever will be! Nobody’s ever really loved you, nobody’s ever considered spending their life with you, so you don’t get to tell me what I can or can not do! What the hell do you know about love or life or anything anyway? You’ve done shit with yourself so stay the hell out of my affairs!”
Tough-looking Paul stared at my lips and froze. She became completely speechless. Her eyes widened. For a brief second, I thought I saw hurt flicker through her eyes but the hurt quickly vanished and the look in her eyes became colder than ever. She straightened up and looked me right in the eye like an opponent ready to take on the fight. “Are you coming, or not?” she asked. Her voice was low. Dangerous.
I held my ground. “I need to finish my conversation with Arden.”
Paul sniggered and took her eyes off me. “Sure. Who am I to say no?” She swung one backpack onto her back, one onto her front, grabbed the six boxes of Chinese takeout she had left on the tin can table and marched to the door.
“Paul, can’t you just wait—”
She didn’t. The door to Room 103 slammed shut a second later.
Just like that, Paul was gone. All I had left of her was the bouquet of roses she had shoved into my arms and the bags of unpacked shopping she hadn’t bothered taking with her. The roses were smaller than the huge ones Arden Villeneuve once bought for me but they were just as red and fresh. Looking at them didn’t cheer me up at all though. Not one bit.
Less than ten seconds after Paul left, the doorbell rang again.
I opened it right away, hoping Paul had forgotten something so we could, perhaps, discuss everything that had come out of our mouths more rationally this time.
But it wasn’t Paul I saw. It was Arden Villeneuve.
I let her in of course. Why wouldn’t I? I could never say no to Arden Villeneuve. I realised that about myself then.
“Is uh… is everything okay?” She stared at the bouquet I was still clutching in my arms and checked out the room in a way that suggested there might be a great deal of danger right around the corner.
“Yes.”
“Where did Paula go?”
I shrugged and kept my eyes down so she wouldn’t see the sudden surge of loss I felt. Where did Paul go? That I wanted to know too. What was I going to do out here without Paul? How would I survive?
“Should we go after her? I could go with you if you want.”
I shook my head and put the bouquet down on the tin can table. One thing at a time, I decided. Right now, there was something else I really needed to do. I went to the industrial window and dragged the floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of it together. Room 103 became grey and dull, devoid of colour.
“What are you doing?”
What I had been wanting to do for too long. I peeled off my white singlet and bra and went to kiss Arden Villeneuve on the lips.
I wanted my kiss to be a kiss she would never forget—a kiss she could use to define all other kisses—but Arden Villeneuve stiffened and didn’t open her mouth for me. Instead, she kept her eyes wide open and stared at me as if in shock.
“I’m married,” she said when I pulled my lips away and opened my eyes again.
I watched
her eyes glance subtly at my naked chest and smiled with my intentions all over my face. “Does it matter? Really?”
She swallowed hard, dropped her eyes down to my chest again, then shook her head ever so slightly.
My small smile turned into a full on grin. I knew it. I had known it the night of the falling incident, while smoking on my apartment’s rooftop. That was exactly why I hadn’t been suicidal or depressed at all. I just knew with enough time, with enough persistence, I would reunite with Arden Villeneuve’s body again. What I had to offer her body was as addictive as a drug. I was a bad habit she would never be able to fully shake. Not because I was the hottest woman around or the most successful, no, it was simply because I understood who she was. Arden Villeneuve had a weakness for unusual, unexpected experiences. She needed it for her work as an actress, which she thought of as art. She needed unusual experiences to feel like her life had been lived to the max, to feel like she had explored all possibilities. And I just knew how to give her what she needed. For example, how commonplace was it for a woman to get sexually propositioned by her dead lover’s identical twin?
I reached over, unbuttoned Arden Villeneuve’s jacket, peeled off her black inner blouse, pushed my breasts against her stomach and surrounded her nipple with my lips. She didn’t protest at all. In fact, her eyes grew shiny and her mouth fell open. I sucked her in rhythm with her beating heart. Thud, suck. Thud, suck. Thud, suck. She reached for my shoulders then clutched at my back. Her heart began to beat more furiously under my ear. When she gasped at last, I just knew we were the old us all over again. I did it! I found a way back!
I pushed her down onto the bed and went in between her endless out-stretched legs. Her black lace panties came off and my lips reunited with her clit. She was already moist down there and only got more moist as I sucked and licked and sucked and licked while she watched me on propped up elbows. She gasped again, grabbed at the bed sheet with tight fists and threw her head backwards. “Fuck, how do you know how to do that…” she whispered.
She didn’t care for a reply. Arden Villeneuve rammed her clit towards my mouth and began to moan. I sucked her with increasing speed and added a finger into her vagina. Her moans grew louder and more desperate. I could tell she was having a remarkable time because she was saying... “Yes... Yes! Yes!!! Yes!!!!! Yes!”
Blood rushed to my groin. I felt myself become wet too. When she began screaming in helpless pleasure and trembling violently against my face, I just knew I wanted everything she was having. I could hold back no longer. I wanted to feel her the way she felt me.
I ripped off my pants when she collapsed back down onto the bed, limp and flushed, and climbed up to join her on the bed. I put one leg on the floor, one leg over her and slowly lowered myself.
She eyed me with hunger and closed her eyes the moment our clits touched. Her mouth fell open again and her face contorted into one of pleasure.
This time, I moaned along with her. She was swollen and hard so rubbing against her felt absolutely heavenly. Straightforward pleasure engulfed my private regions. It was delightful enough to get me out of my mind, out of my thoughts, out of my disappointment and misery, rage and bitterness, and that was just all I really needed there and then.
I rubbed harder. Her cries of pleasure filled the room right as a thick wetness gushed against my groin. The pleasure in my groin intensified with every subsequent thrust of my hips and I knew right away I was going to come—
I screamed and dropped my head as an intense orgasm shot across every muscle of my body and made me go weak. I vocalised the sensations that overpowered me and let them take over the muscles on my face. My arms trembled and lost strength. My thighs began to throb. I felt nothing but good and happy; happy with myself and also the world. I moaned with contentment. Warm relaxation surrounded my bones. I heaved a deep sigh and wanted to lie down but—
“Don’t stop, Lane!” Arden Villeneuve pleaded. Her eyes met mine, large and shiny. She began to rock her hips up towards me with fervour.
I resumed thrusting my drenched clit against hers and next thing I knew, Arden Villeneuve was screaming like she was dying of pleasure all over again.
And so was I.
We lay side-by-side, face-to-face, in silence, afterwards. Her hand fell on my cheek and her thumb caressed it gently, as if trying to get a feel of my flesh. There was sadness, tenderness and... I think... love in her eyes, to my surprise.
“You love me?” I couldn’t help but ask.
She bit her lip, observed every part of my face intently and her face turned crimson. Tears appeared in her eyes and rained down on the bed, culminating in a large damp patch on the bed sheet. Arden Villeneuve began to sob and seemed unable to speak.
“You love me,” I realised. It was all over her face. Paul lied. Or she had been wrong. Arden Villeneuve did love me. I could see it, right before my eyes.
“I didn’t think she would try to kill herself,” she whispered, her voice choked. Her hand vibrated violently against my cheek as if she couldn’t quite stop it from shaking. “I thought she was cool with just having fun. I never would have... if I knew she would be hurt or... sad or…” She burst into furious sobs and all I could think of to do was get closer. I put my head against hers and hugged her shaking body. Tightly.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” I whispered, silently delighted about having her back in my arms again. “You didn’t kill me. I didn’t even jump. I was pushed. Somebody pushed me, I think.”
Arden Villeneuve pulled back and stared at me in shock. She sniffled hard and looked both confused and relieved at once. “How do you know? Did Lane write all that in her diary?”
“There is no diary, Arden. I just know because…” I took a deep breath and braced myself. “I am Lane. And I missed you. A lot.”
I expected shock, some terror, and maybe also delight and love, but Arden Villeneuve gave me none of those things. She simply blinked hard and removed her hand from my cheek so quickly, it felt as if she had only suddenly realised her hand had been lying there. When she looked away, it looked as if there was disappointment in her red, swollen eyes.
Her reaction made me very uncomfortable. Was it normal to react that way when faced with a revelation like that? Wasn’t it more normal to be horrified? Or... relieved?
Arden Villeneuve clearly wasn’t afraid. Or even surprised. Not in the least. She just looked simply... awkward and... crestfallen.
Why?
The doorbell suddenly rang again and made us both jump up. We both turned to the door.
“Must really be room service this time,” Arden Villeneuve whispered with a sad, sad polite smile. She wiped her tears off her face and stood up to pull down her shirt, jacket and skirt very quickly.
I didn’t understand her smile at all. It wasn’t the sort of smile she normally gave me after sex. It was the sort of smile she’d usually save for strangers she barely knew.
The doorbell rang again.
“Could you get it? I’ll wait in the bathroom.”
Before I could reply, Arden Villeneuve was already halfway there. I went in search of my own clothes; not an easy task with the curtains closed—everything looked the same shade of grey. I found my bra and top next to the tin can table and my jeans and panties on the floor by the bed. The doorbell rang for a third time.
“Just a second,” I shouted and struggled to put on everything as quickly as I could. It was difficult because my legs were still weak from the orgasms I just had and my head was a little dizzy.
The doorbell rang again. And again. And again. Three times consecutively.
Fucking bad service, I thought as I shoved my final piece of clothing—a crumpled white singlet top—over my head. “I said just a second!”
“Room service!” the person on the outside hollered.
“Will you just—” I stopped in that instant because something caught my attention.
That voice outside? It was one I knew.
But where from?
“Room service, ma’am,” the voice said again.
“Blaine, get the door,” Arden Villeneuve shouted from the bathroom.
“Room service!” the voice shouted from the outside.
That was when it hit me. The voice outside became as familiar as my dead relatives’ faces and just as terrifying once I remembered where I knew it from. Blood from my head rushed to my feet. I was left cold and outright giddy with fear.
That person on the outside? He was not room service, that I knew for sure.
Chapter 18
25 June 2033?
Into the closet? Under the bed? In the bathroom? There weren’t that many hiding options in Room 103. I took a deep breath and dashed towards the place I figured was best, right before the bathroom door opened and Arden Villeneuve emerged. “Blaine?”
Blaine? Didn’t she believe me? I held my breath and kept as still as I could, thankful I already had my clothes on. I couldn’t see the rest of the room from where I was but decided it might be better that way.
The doorbell rang again. Footsteps moved away from me and I heard the door to Room 103 open.
Please let it be room service, I prayed with my eyes tightly shut. Please let me be wrong. Please let it be overpriced salad and wine. Please.
“I don’t know where she went,” I heard Arden Villeneuve say.
“What do you mean?” that voice replied. Footsteps, many more footsteps, entered the room. “I just heard her voice in here.”
Fuck. Shit. Could it really be? The footsteps got closer. I bit my lip and tried to breathe without moving my body—an impossible feat, I realised. The body is not something you can control, not when your heart is pounding in overdrive.
Creaks sounded as wooden doors and drawers got thrown open. A thud on the carpet. Multiple individuals looking into closets and under the bed?
“She was right here. She said she would open the door.”
“What about the other one?”
