by Ann, Bry
A sob bubbles up in my throat before I can stop it, making him turn. Of course, he can’t hear me talk but he can hear me cry. Go figure.
His eyes are sort of confused, sort of sad when he glances back at me. I quickly divert my gaze, but through all that, he’s still tugging on and on. So sure through this disastrous place.
“Where are we going?” I shout.
He ignores me. He keeps trudging on and on. Only once in a while does he glance back to see if I'm still breathing, I guess. My feet hurt, my ribs kill, but I try my best not to complain in my head.
Several minutes pass where my eyes flutter with exhaustion before he stops, giving me one final tug forward. I glance up to see a huge metal and wood compound shrouded by trees. My jaw falls open. He lives here? Lives?!
“Go inside,” he yells, glancing back at the storm with a trace of concern coloring his features.
It’s then I realize he’s holding the door open and I'm just staring with my jaw wide open. Blushing, I sprint inside.
I just stand here awkwardly while he closes the door behind him and boards it up. When he turns back to me, I feel his eyes on me, but I can’t look at him. He could be a killer, a total psychopath here to hurt me. I don’t think he is, but many people have been fooled by first impressions. I mean, that’s why Ted Bundy was so famous.
“Girl, what the hell are you doing way out here?”
“I… um… I… well…” So, random stranger, my ex is a girlfriend-beating, cheating sociopath who beat me up for the last time, so I ran here scared ‘til I feel safe enough to go back since Rain is handling the cops for me.
Is it okay if I crash here with you?
Clearing my throat, I get myself together.
“I'm lost.”
That’s true in a way.
“Yeah, I’d say so.” He studies me a moment longer. I know he’s taking in the fact that I still haven’t looked at him.
“Look, let’s build a fire. I’ll get you something to eat. A new shirt at least. Yours is wet. Then we’ll talk. Sound good?”
I sort of just fidget.
“Can I at least get a name since you're crashing my pad?”
There’s a trace bit of amusement coloring his voice. He’s kidding. Okay, so he’s not some serious survivalist weirdo. That’s… nice.
“Kiki,” I whisper.
“Kiki, I like it. You know what? Fuck, I like that a lot. Kiki. If I planned on having kids, I’d name my daughter Kiki. That’s my kinda name.”
The laugh that bursts out of me is unexpected. I look at him, kinda surprised. He’s charming. Really, unexpectedly charming. Thank you, God.
Maybe he hasn’t abandoned me.
“Come on, Kiki. Let’s get you warm. You look like the human version of an ice cube.”
I giggle again. As soon as the sound escapes, he looks at me. I can feel it. There’s a kind of confused vibe rolling off him as he leads me through this insane compound.
“Did you build this?” I whisper.
“Yep.” His voice is filled with pride. Rightfully so.
“And no one knows?” I keep my head down.
“Nah, covered by trees.”
He begins to build the fire while I just stand here, shuffling.
“Here, come sit.” He points to this weird couch thing. It’s cushy. Not like a regular couch. You sink right in. Another laugh escapes when the couch-like thing nearly swallows me. He laughs, too.
“You’ll get used to it. You’re just small,” he laughs.
It’s then that I finally really look up at him, but he’s leaving the room, so all I get is his back.
“I'm gonna get you a clean shirt,” he calls over.
“Thanks,” I mumble, watching for the moment he leaves. As soon as he does, I manage to get myself up from the couch and run to the spot as close to the fire as possible. I huddle in a ball and rock back and forth, letting the fire warm my chilled bones as thunder continues to roar.
A throat clears behind me. I glance over. The man is looking at me with pity in his eyes.
“God, you look so pathetic. It’s making me sad.”
“Hey! You can’t just say that to someone.”
“Social niceties don’t apply here, sweetness. It’s just us and the grizzlies.”
“There are bears here?” I choke.
When he grins, I realize he’s fucking with me. Really. At a time like this?
“Here’s a shirt for you.” He holds out a plain black tee. “It should fit okay. I'm not a big guy, unfortunately.”
“Thanks.” I take the shirt quickly.
“Alright, then. I'm gonna go make you something to eat. Go ahead and change. I won’t come back in unless you say it's okay, but I get being freaked, so feel free to lock and shut what you need to in order to feel safe. Okay, Kiki?”
“‘Kay, um, what’s your name?”
“Thought you’d never ask. Guy, pleasure to meet your acquaintance.”
That’s all he says, that odd introduction, before walking out.
“I'm gone. Your tits can be free!” he calls from the other room.
“Oh my God,” I laugh. “He’s insane.”
I'm still laughing as I go to the door, lean my hip against it to make sure it stays closed, and awkwardly strip out of my bra and shirt, trading it out for his. Unfortunately, I have to be braless since mine is drenched and that’s horrifying. I'm not small chested. I mean, I don’t have super big tits, but I wear a C. It’s noticeable that I'm not wearing a bra. You can see my nipples poking through this tee, too. It’s thin.
Fuck.
“You decent?”
“Uh…” I look around frantically. How do I strap these babies down? “Hold on.”
I kneel down on the floor, propped up against the door, slide my hand under my shirt, and unwrap my ribs. I whimper as the material brushes over the fairly new injuries.
“Hey, you okay?” He sounds actually worried this time.
“I'm good. Hold on!”
As soon as the bandage is off my ribs—how that’s not soaking wet is beyond me; it must be the material—I wrap it around my boobs. It’s no miracle, but it stops the shape of my boobs from being on display as well as my nipples.
“I'm no expert on women's t-shirts, but I think you forgot how to take yours off if it’s taking you this long.”
I smile a little. “Come in. You’re good.”
I quickly crawl from the door and scramble to my feet. Internally, I'm crying at the pain in my ribs. It nearly has me hunched over.
Guy gives my boobs an odd look, since they really do look funny right now, sticking out at all different angles through the bandage, but he’s nice and doesn’t say anything.
“I brought you some hot cereal. Some wheat thing. It’s topped with berries. Fairly normal meal for the princess.”
“Thanks.”
“Course.” His tone is softer this time. “We can sit on the couch, or I kinda have a table, or…” He sounds insecure. He keeps running a hand over his head. “Look, Keeks, I don’t have people here. Ever.”
“Keeks? And no way, really?”
He smiles at me. He even ducks down so I'm forced to see it.
“The floor’s fine,” I murmur, sitting down slowly. My eyes fill with water as my ribs fire up.
“Look,” Guy says after a moment, making my body tense even as I cram the food in my mouth as fast as possible, “I'm not gonna get in your business, okay? Don’t freak. I just want you to know I have a first aid kid here. A good one. I'm technically EMT certified. Questions won’t be asked.”
My cheeks heat. “Thanks.”
“So…” he continues, “I noticed you wincing and your tits poking out ten different ways.” I laugh. “You need another bandage for that.”
“If you don’t—”
“I don’t mind,” he cuts me off, pushing to his feet. I'm not hungry anymore. I push the bowl away and look down, fighting my tears.
“Kiki?”
“Mmm.�
� Don’t look up. Don’t look up. Don’t look up.
“Don’t be embarrassed. Easier said than done, but…” He pauses. Shadows wash over his eyes. “That’s the great thing about it here. Who’s gonna judge you?”
And he walks out.
I don’t think he realizes—maybe he escaped his demons here, but mine followed me. My greatest demon, my worst nightmare, has always been myself.
I chose Anthony.
I chose to come here.
I'm the demon. She’s still here.
Guy
God, that girl makes me sad. She’s beat to all hell. Two big black eyes, her ribs are probably cracked, she’s soaking wet like a sad puppy. How the hell did she end up here? It’s hard to tell, but I know she’s pretty without all the bruises and stuff.
I kinda want to keep giving her stuff to make her feel better, but this is an island. There’s not much more to give.
After grabbing my first aid kit, I make my way back into the room where she’s at. She’s still in her same spot on the floor, staring at the rocky ground, the rest of her food untouched since I spoiled her appetite.
“Ready to play doctor?”
She glances up. I’ve amused her. She’s sad, but I made her smile a bit. I'm glad she has a ridiculous sense of humor like me or this would be awkward. Worse than awkward; I would be annoyed she invaded my sanctuary. Turns out, though, I kinda like her here.
“It’s not gonna be as fun today as it is in my fantasies.”
She smirks at me, a little shy, a little devilish. My eyebrows shoot up.
“Whoa, sweetness came to play. This can be a two-for-one special.”
I keep my smile playful. She’s having fun, but she’s also unsure. She’s completely kidding about playing out sex fantasies, but she’s scared I won’t be kidding. She took a risk for humor. I really appreciate that.
She giggles. “I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“You can tell me no. I'm man enough. I can take it.”
“I may not be up for that today. It’s been kind of a long day. Um… yeah.”
Even playing turning me down, she’s cautious. I laugh. It’s so unlike anyone I’ve ever met.
“I guess I can understand that. Let’s just get you taken care of, then.”
She nods, but it’s really jerky. She’s scared.
“Follow me. There’s a table in the other room. This will be easier if you’re seated.”
I glance at the couch with cushions ready to swallow whoever sits on them. She follows my gaze and laughs.
“You’ll never find my ribs in that thing.”
“Forget your ribs, I can barely find your neck in that thing.”
She giggles as she follows me through the compound.
“Did you build all this?” she breathes.
“Yeah.”
“Wow.”
I shrug. “It’s home.”
She doesn't say anything, which is wise. If she didn’t approve of my home, we’d have issues. Serious issues. This is the thing I'm most protective of.
“Here you go, Kiki.”
She looks at the table wearily. “Is it steady? I'm not light.”
“Not light? Oh, shit, don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who always thinks she’s fat.”
“Hey! Don’t be an asshole. Girls have self-esteem issues and it actually really sucks.”
“I apologize. Honestly.”
“But no, I'm not. I just know what I weigh.”
“Alright. I'm sorry I said that. I guess I don’t understand. I try not to be an ass, but sometimes I am, ‘kay?”
She nods, still frowning.
“Why don’t you climb up on the table for me now? The table will hold.”
I don’t know where her head is when she heads for the table, ‘cause her cheeks are flaming red. She’s got a dirty little mind, and most guys would love that, but here, in the middle of nowhere, the last thing I need is my mind on my urges with no real outlet except for my own fist.
I'm lost in thoughts, filthy fucking thoughts, when I hear whimpering. I glance over at the injured girl that is currently in my home and see her trying to get up on the table. Her eyes are full of tears. Shit!
Here I was, imagining my fist around a blonde ponytail while I fucked some fantasy chick from behind. God, I am a dick.
“Here, geez, sorry, let me help you.”
“I'm sorry,” she whispers, voice choking a bit.
“What’s there to be sorry for? I'm gonna put my hands under your arms, okay?”
‘Cause I have no clue what this girl has been through.
She nods. “Alright.”
I approach her slowly. When I'm nearly toe to toe with her, I place my hands under her arms and hoist her up on the table. She winces, but is otherwise pretty tough.
“You good?”
“Good,” she squeaks, then frowns at herself.
“Alright,” I chuckle, “I'm gonna lift your shirt a bit, okay?”
“Yeah.”
She’s fuckin’ trembling here. I feel shitty. I don’t like this, but I know she’ll feel worse not having me take a look.
Slowly, I lift my black t-shirt up her stomach. Smooth, tanned flesh meets my eyes inch by inch. I'm about a quarter of the way up her ribs when I see a large white scar wrapped around her oblique. I freeze. So does she. It’s very clear where that scar came from.
A belt.
Every muscle in her body is tense. She’s still as stone under my fingers. Fighting my instinct to ask who the hell has been hurting her, I keep my promise and stay quiet. When I keep lifting her shirt and tie it below her oddly wrapped tits, she exhales a deep breath.
“Thank you.” She says it so quietly I almost don’t hear her.
“Don’t mention it, Keeks.”
“Why do you call me that? Kiki is a nickname.”
“For what?”
She scowls. “Katrina.”
“Okay, so remind me to never call you that.”
“Yeah, don’t.”
Okay, I'm gonna stop talking now. She seems really sad. She’s struggling.
“Take a deep breath for me. Okay, Kiki?”
She nods. I grab my wrap and carefully place it against her side as I feel her ribs with my fingers. She sucks in a deep breath.
“Are any broken? Do you know?”
“They’re not broken.”
“Good. That would suck here.”
She glances up at me through her eyelashes. “What is your crazy thing? I don’t understand.”
“My crazy thing?” I laugh.
“There’s no way you live on a deserted island and are this… well, this…”
“Yes?” I grin.
“This normal. Cool, even. I'm confused.”
“Aww, I'm being stereotyped.”
“Well, I don’t know how else to react to you. You built a house on a deserted island.”
“Does it help your stereotyping ass if I say I'm successful in the tech industry and am a multimillionaire?”
Her eyes widen, then she winces as I finish wrapping her up.
“It does help,” she murmurs, ashamed. “I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. I get it. Here, I'm all done.”
I tug her shirt down and lift her up off the table.
“I don’t really know what to say. I can’t believe I'm not dead.”
“Ha ha, I'm not a serial killer, doll. I'm assuming you wanna stay here for the night.”
“I, well, is that okay?”
“Am I gonna kick you out in the middle of a storm?”
“I'm sorry,” she whispers.
“Hey, Kiki.” She glances up. “Don’t be sorry.” She shuffles her feet again, not quite meeting my eyes. “Okay,” I chuckle, “let me show you to your room, Miss Quiet.”
* * *
I wrap one hand around my cock and place the other on the shower wall. That woman upstairs got me thinking about sex and now I can’t get the very vivid fant
asy of that aforementioned blonde out of my head.
A groan escapes my lips as I continue to jerk off. I'm just about to come when—
“Guy?” a timid female voice calls, voice trembling.
“Shit,” I groan, placing my head on the tile.
… and orgasm ruined.
“Fuck.”
I storm out of the shower. I pretty much break a world record drying myself off and throwing on a pair of grey sweats.
“Guy?” Her voice quivers before a terrified shriek escapes her lips. “Guy!”
“Hey, hey, I'm here. I'm here.”
I slide in the hall by my room. When she sees me, her eyes fill with tears and mine, well, mine go to her bare legs. She’s literally in nothing but my t-shirt. That weird bra wrap is gone, too. Thankfully, in a way, she’s hurt, because otherwise this would be bad. As it stands, I just feel sad when I see her.
“What’s up, Kiki?”
Jesus, her skin is drained of all color. She looks terrified.
“Kiki?”
“There’s a snake in my room,” she breathes, almost ghost-like in the way she says it. Her eyes practically roll back in her head.
“Whoa!” I run forward, laughing, when she wavers on her feet. “There are lots of snakes on this island. Want me to get it out for you?”
“It touched me.” Her voice is practically just air. “It—it slid over my arm.”
“Okay, that’s gross. I’ll give you that.”
“It slid over my arm.”
Her wide eyes meet mine. I’m cracking up, but I do keep a hand on her lower back because she looks like she’s about to pass right out.
“I heard you the first time, Keeks. I didn’t hear you scream, though?”
“I didn’t want to scare it,” she squeaks. “Oh my God, I could have died!”
“Kiki,” I laugh hysterically. “Most snakes here are harmless. Don’t get all freaked. They don’t usually get in the house.”
“No snakes are harmless, asshole!” she snaps. “Oh my God. It slid over my arm. I wanna go home. I don’t wanna be here.”
She’s having a full meltdown over a snake. What do I do with this?
I have no fuckin’ clue. With the exception of the occasional fuck when I'm in the States, I have zero experience with women. No family. No friends. No girlfriend. Nothing.
