Girl By Any Other Name

by MK Schiller

  “Pinch your nipples,” I commanded. She complied. “Get them wet.” She licked her fingers generously before swiping them across her nipples. I took my free hand and manipulated her clit. Her eyes searched mine, begging for release. I shook my head, withdrew, and then slammed back into her with my full length. “Not yet.”

  The contours of her beautiful face contorted as the waves of pleasure built in her until her release. I closed my eyes and followed soon after.

  I dislodged each leg carefully, rubbing her ankles. I watched her as we both regained our breath. I roamed my hands over the soft, warm, freshly slick planes of her flesh. She was as lovely as a lily, sweet as honey, and sexy as sin. My finger travelled in the hollow space between her breasts, gliding down her body before bringing it to my tongue. I kissed her slowly, relishing her decadent taste, holding her face against mine. Then I lay down next to her, flopping my leg over her.

  “I didn’t think about my bed. It’s so small and you’re so...big,” she said after a while.

  I laughed, pulling her close to me. “You’ll have to sleep on top of me. It’s the only way.”

  “That’s going to be so uncomfortable for you.”

  “It’s going to be the best sleep I’ll ever have.”

  She nuzzled against me. We remained quiet for a while.

  I threaded my fingers through her hair, the sounds of our combined breathing permeating the air.

  She lifted her head and looked down at me. “I don’t have much experience, but I didn’t think that sex could be this good.”

  “Sex is the physical response to emotional need. It feels natural because it’s us.”

  “Easy as breathing.”

  “I haven’t slept well in almost ten years,” I admitted while playing with the soft curls of hair.

  “Me neither.”

  “Well, I’m glad we’re finally getting some rest. Let’s play hooky tomorrow,” I suggested.

  She lifted her head, her lips pressed together. “I wish I could. I have a class to teach. I can’t bail on those kids.”

  “What time do you work?”

  “Not until four. I close tomorrow.”

  “I don’t have a class tomorrow. I just grade papers with Jessica, so we can hang all day.”

  “Oh, okay.” There was something off about the way she said it.

  “What’s wrong, Sylvie?”

  “Is there something going on between you and Jessica?”

  I wasn’t expecting that question. “Our relationship has always been professional. Why do you ask?”

  “I was just wondering because of the way she looks at you sometimes. Of course, a lot of girls look at you that way.”

  “You never did.”

  “I did. I’m just better at hiding it. I had to be. When you read that unsent letter to me, I almost had a breakdown in there.”

  “I guess my plan worked then. I wanted to draw you out without sounding crazy in case I was wrong.”

  “I lied in class,” she said with an impish smile.

  “About what?”

  “I like Thomas Hardy, but that wasn’t my favorite novel.” She moved away from me, reaching into her nightstand drawer. I immediately felt the loss of her body and wanted to pull her back. She held up a hardcover book. I blinked, staring at the tattered, well-worn copy of Raven Girl by Caleb James Tanner. “This is my favorite book. I’ve read it a million times.”

  “I can tell,” I replied, taking it from her. “So, you were the one person who bought my book.”

  “Stop, it was a great book.”

  “I was doing a public service. I provided the critics an abundance of fodder for their craft. I think one of them compared me to Forrest Gump without the excuse of a mental impairment.”

  She was quiet for a minute. I lifted her chin and smiled at her. She didn’t smile back. “I think it was criticized so much because the story felt unfinished.”

  “Perhaps it deserves a sequel?”

  “Maybe.” A folded piece of note paper fell out as I held up the book. “What’s this?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “Is that the note I wrote you on your birthday?”

  “Sure is. It was in my pocket that night. I reread it when I’m thinking about you.” Judging from the number of folds, she read it a lot.

  “I don’t remember what is says.”

  “You don’t?”

  “Not exactly. I remember it was my first attempt at writing.”

  She held up the paper. I saw my messy adolescent handwriting.

  “Dear Sylvie, I’m sorry I fucked up. Please forgive me and talk to me again. You are my one and you always will be. Love Cal.”

  “That’s what it said?”

  “Yeah. Well, that followed by a bunch of lyrics to Oasis songs.”

  “Hmm, thought I was more prolific than that.”

  “I don’t know about that, but this note has helped me get through some hard times.” She carefully folded the paper and placed it inside the book.

  She settled her head on my chest. We shifted into a comfortable position.

  “I haven’t asked you yet, but I assume it’s no coincidence you were in my class.”

  She gave me a coy smile. “I’ve been following you.” I stared at her in shock, but she shook her head. “I’ve been following your career, I should say, from the internet. I’m kind of a stalker. Do you know what the girls say about your class on the chat boards?” When I shook my head, she said, “They refer to you as the sexy Southern professor.”

  “I didn’t realize I had a nickname.”

  “Yeah, you’re kind of a legend in these parts. The front row girls call themselves the Cal-addicts.”

  “I’m only interested in one girl being my fan because I’m completely addicted to her.”

  Her cheeks reddened. “Anyway, the registrar’s office said your class was very popular, and it was in a big lecture hall. At least seventy-five people had registered for it. I figured I could sit in the back and go unnoticed.”

  “Are you smoking crack? You think I wouldn’t notice you?”

  She started laughing, no doubt remembering how many times I’d made similar remarks when we were kids.

  “I thought my disguise helped. I look different, too.”

  “Not that different.”

  “I never meant for you to see me. I was being selfish. I wanted to watch you. To hear you talk again. To see you without hurting you.”

  A knot of anxiety formed in my gut. She was being selfish by coming back into my life.

  “You hurt me by hiding from me. Promise me you’ll never do it again.”

  I held up my pinky finger. She hooked hers around it.

  “Promise. By the way, I’m withdrawing from your class. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “I was going to fail you anyway.”

  She shot up, her eyes blazing. “What?”

  I pressed my lips to her temple to hide my grin. “Kidding, but I am curious. Were you comparing me to Ahab when you were talking about Moby Dick?”

  She laughed, cupping my chin. “That would mean that I was referring to myself as a whale or calling myself a dick, and I’m not that self-deprecating.”

  “Very funny, smartass.” I grab her waist and flip us. Kissing the sensitive skin around her neck, I manage a few lyrics from “Champagne Supernova.”

  She laughed and then she moaned. Oh, God, that beautiful moan.

  I lift my head and stare into her dark eyes. “Don’t drop out. Change your status so you’re auditing the class. That way your grade won’t count and there’s nothing devious about it.”

  “Will you get in trouble for that?”

  I shrugged. “Only if someone tells. It is community college, after all. They’re not exactly vigilant about the rules. I’ve heard that Ocean Community College is fondly referred to as ‘Only Chance College’ and that’s by the alumni.”

  She laughed. “’Kay.”

  “Good
night, Sylvie,” I whispered and kissed her temple.

  “We need to talk about something first.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You shouldn’t call me Sylvie anymore. I have a new name now. I would say its fine when we’re intimate because I prefer it, too, but I’m afraid you might slip up if we’re in public.” She had a point.

  “Sophie doesn’t feel right to me. Sophie and I didn’t catch a five-pound bluefish on a Saturday afternoon. I didn’t read her poetry. I didn’t give her my heart.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted slowly. “I’m the same girl no matter what you call me.”

  “I know. How about if I call you Sylvie when we’re alone and ‘sweetheart’ or ‘baby’ or even ‘lover’ when we’re out?”

  She laughed. “You’re crazy.”

  “Crazy about you. I love you, girl.”

  She sat up, pressing her hand against my chest. “You haven’t said that yet.”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “No, you haven’t. We’ve talked about it in an external sense, but you haven’t said it directly to me since…since that night.”

  “Well, let me be clear. I love you, Sylvie Cranston. I have loved you since I was fourteen, and I will love you until the day I die.”

  “I love you too, Caleb James Tanner.”

  I press my mouth against hers. “We’ve never said it to each other.”

  “We’re long overdue.”

  “I always knew, but it’s nice to hear the words.”

  She ran her fingers though my hair. “Let me be clear then. I have loved you since I was eleven and you sat next to me on the swings at church. It’s grown each day since, even when we weren’t together. I will never stop loving you.”

  I was right. I could not remember sleeping so sound in my life.

  Chapter 22

  Present day

  “I think it’s dead,” Sylvie said, watching me drill the chain on her door.

  “It’s not dead. I’ve had this drill for fifteen years, so what does that tell you?”

  “That it’s time to get a new drill?”

  I shook my head, pissed my drill wasn’t working when we were almost done with all the repairs. I turned to her. For a moment, I had trouble remembering the task at hand. A plaid shirt and loose chinos didn’t sound sexy, but on Sylvie they might as well have been French lingerie. Her hair was up in a messy bun, and my fingers twitched to free the strands. She must have sensed my desire, because she pouted her sumptuous lips and raised her eyebrow. “So, are we done for today?”

  I wished we were, but I needed to finish. “You’ve been a good helper so far, but now you’re just distracting me. Why don’t you get me a cup of coffee, woman?”

  “That sounds chauvinistic.”

  “It’s not. You can get yourself a cup, too,” I replied, turning back to my work. The drill was on its last legs, and I was about ready to chuck it out the window.

  “I can help you.” There was a piled huskiness to her already sexy voice. I had a feeling her version of help wasn’t going to get the deadbolt in.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “I promise I can.”

  “Quit it, girl. I’m trying to focus here.”

  “But, Tex, you’re stressing out so much.”

  “Yeah, and trust me, I’m going to want you to relax me…but later when I’m done here. This is very important to me.”

  “Yeah and—”

  “Dammit, girl, I’m serious,” I replied, feeling the drill in my hand start to smoke from the pressure I was putting on it.

  That was when I heard another sound echo through her small apartment. It was a fresh, energetic buzzing that was so opposite to the dying sound coming from my tool. She stood there clutching the latest Craftsman drill, charged up and ready to go.

  She sauntered over to me, holding it up like it was a pistol, smiling smugly. “I was going to say you can borrow my drill. Sometimes it is the tool and not the user.”

  I took her drill and turned it over in my hand, admiring its features. I let out a low whistle. “Very nice. Why do you have this?”

  “It’s cheaper to make my own frames and easels.”

  “When did you get so handy?” I asked, pulling her to my chest and kissing her head.

  “I was just going to ask you the same thing. I don’t remember you knowing all this stuff.”

  “Sylvie, I don’t think it takes a master craftsman to install a deadbolt and chain.”

  “You seem really comfortable with it.”

  I released her, returning to my work. She went to the tiny area that constituted her kitchen to make coffee.

  “When I came home from college, I noticed things in disrepair at the house. It wasn’t like Momma to let things go like that. At first, I couldn’t figure it out, but then I realized that even with my dad’s insurance settlement and my mother going back to work, things were tight with me in college and Mandy’s music lessons. I figured the least I could do was help out. My dad was always good at fixing stuff.”

  “I remember. He was always tinkering with your appliances and cars.”

  “I wasn’t so great, but I figured everything I needed to know was in a book somewhere. Then for Christmas, I was pretty broke so I made Momma a new dining table from some reclaimed wood.” I finished the chain and checked all the screws on her door to see if I should reinforce any. “I don’t think I’ve seen her that happy since Dad died. After that, I made all her gifts.”

  She handed me a steaming mug and sat on the floor, leaning her back against the wall. I decided to join her.

  “You always took good care of your family.”

  Not wanting to dwell on how much I missed them, I didn’t answer, and thankfully she didn’t say any more about it. “Did you make the shelves at your place?”

  “Yes. I can make you some if you’d like.”

  “I’d love that.”

  I took a few sips of the steaming mug she brought me. She shifted closer to me, and reflexively I put my arm around her and she laid her head against my chest. “Or you can just move all your books to my place along with the rest of your stuff.”

  She frowned. “There’s several reasons why that’s a bad idea.”

  “Name them.”

  “For one, it’s too soon.”

  I almost spit out my coffee. “What? You realize this isn’t like a normal relationship, right? We’re not exactly starting out here.”

  “Of course, but I want us to have that ‘getting to know you again’ phase. We’re both vulnerable. Then there is the practical reasoning, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It would cost a fortune to buy out my lease, and I have three more months here.”

  “I’ll pay for it,” I said immediately. Hell, if it was about money, we could resolve that.

  “No, you won’t. I don’t want that.”

  “But—”

  She covered my mouth. “Here’s the thing. I love you. I don’t doubt that for a second, but I like my independence, too. Besides, you told me Mandy and your mom visit you here, so how would you explain all my girly stuff at your bachelor pad? They can’t know about me.”

  “I’ll drop it…for now,” I grumbled.

  She leaned up and kissed me. “So, are we done? Because I have a few hours before work, and I was thinking maybe you could drill me.”

  I chuckled. “Baby, you’re making me so fucking hard.” She stood up, holding her hand out to me eagerly. I took it, knowing better than to use it to pull myself up. “Calm down, girl. We’re not done. We have to do this last thing.” I took out the last box from our purchases.

  She stared at it quizzically. “An alarm? I don’t think I can have that here.”

  “You can.”

  “Did you read my lease or something?” she asked, cocking her head.

  “Don’t need to read your lease. The state law says you can, and that supersedes a lease.”

  Installing the alarm was fai
rly simple. I armed the device with batteries and drilled a few small holes to set it in place. I stood back, checking the placement of the box, making sure it was level. “Come here,” I said, motioning to her. I stood her in front of me and crossed my arms around her, resting my chin against her neck. “Now, this isn’t connected to a monitoring service because that’s not allowed, but it will give off an ear-splitting roar if it’s triggered. So, if you don’t want an eviction notice, I’d suggest you make sure to turn it off in the thirty seconds allotted. Actually, on second thought…”

  She elbowed me. “Yeah, you would like that.”

  “Hey, no need to get violent. Anyway, I need you to pick a four-digit code.”

  “Eleven —”

  “Not your birthday. Is that really your birthday, by the way?”

  “It’s close and the one I celebrate now. How about twelve—”

  “Not my birthday.”

  “Damn, this is hard.”

  “Pick something you’ll remember, but no one else would know.”

  “Zero five two five,” she blurted out immediately.

  I punched it in, setting the code. “Does that have some significance?”

  “It does to me.”

  I replayed the date in my head, coming up short. I decided to let it go rather than guess. She didn’t say anything else, but I had a feeling she was disappointed I didn’t know the answer. “Guess what? We’re done. Now, let me show you the most powerful drill in this place.”

  I tickled her ribs, and she laughed, running across the room, but I caught up to her and swung her onto the bed. I made quick work of getting her shirt off. I walked to the end of the bed and dragged off those chinos along with her lace panties, then flung them across the room. She tugged on my shirt. I pulled it off and pushed her down on the bed. She wrapped her arms around me while I buried my face into her neck. She started giggling.

  “What?” I asked, nuzzling her neck. She laughed harder, patting my back.

  “You didn’t shave today.”

  “Want me to stop and shave then?” I whispered in her ear.