Say Yes: A Hush, Hush Novella

by Lucia Franco

  And he had left the best for last.

  James isn’t watching The Silence of the Lambs to taunt me; he’s watching to remind me—him, us—of what we have together.

  James had rented a log cabin in Washington our first winter together as a couple. But it wasn’t just any cabin. This cabin was meant for people with an acquired taste for darker things. Set deep in the woods with massive trees surrounding the property, there was nothing but foliage for miles to hear my pants and screams.

  James had tied me up and suspended me in the air by a ring in the center of the main room. Two rows of rope were looped through each other, one went around my waist, the other between my legs with a knot pressing right below my clit. My legs were bound separately with rope down to my ankles. I had been entirely and completely at his mercy. There is just something so illicit about it that entices me even now.

  He’d stroked and pumped my pussy with his fingers, not stopping until he had my full submission. Once he’d garnered it, he placed a blood red satin blindfold over my eyes, leaving me in complete darkness. James then lathered my skin in an oil that warmed through touch, unlike the cold lotion I’d used with the test John. James had rubbed and kneaded my sensitive skin in all the right places. The rope shifted from his deep massage, causing the ribbed outline to push against my tender clit again.

  The lust between us had intensified and the scent of my sex filled the room. James then used a feather flogger on me next. He spanked my pussy until I dripped in his mouth with pleasure, then he flattened his tongue across my pussy lips, devouring me until I couldn’t focus on anything but the intense gratification flowing through my veins. I had cried out in fucking delight as I came in his mouth.

  Afterward, James had lowered me to the floor and yanked my hips up so I was on my knees, and he drove straight into my pussy from behind. Ruthless. Savage. He—

  "Earth to Aubrey."

  My eyes flash to Natalie's. Never one to hold back how she feels, she wears her expression and doesn't give two fucks about it. One corner of her mouth is twisted up as her eyes search mine. I want to laugh, but I don't. Instead, I blink, wondering how long I’ve been standing here lost in my thoughts and feelings.

  I glance over at the love of my life. My chest aches with guilt. James wants to marry me, but I don't want to ruin what we have.

  I met James because he was searching for something his wife wasn't giving him, and he found it in me.

  Would he search for what I’m not willing to give him in someone else?

  Sixteen

  "Aubrey." Natalie attracts my attention again.

  "Yes? Oh, I was just thinking about something I forgot I needed to submit for Retreat by tonight."

  I see James frown from the corner of my eye. He knows I don't have to submit anything since he acted as my attorney and reviewed every document.

  He knows I'm lying.

  Warmth creeps under my cheeks and my skin prickles with anxiousness. My eyes shift between both of them. "I'm gonna go." I hitch a thumb awkwardly over my shoulder. "I'll see you in a few, Nat."

  I turn and leave before she can respond, taking two stairs at a time to the first floor. My heart's racing fast, my fingers are tingly from my shot nerves. A million thoughts are running through my head, but the loudest of them is what the fuck am I doing.

  The constant look in James's eyes, like I’ve let him down, kills us both.

  I grab James's fleece sweater off the back of the couch, then reach for the bottle of Espolòn. On a last thought, I rummage through Nat’s bag and find what I’m looking for. I know she won’t care. Hell, she’ll join me when she’s through with James. I pocket the joint and lighter, then take the stairs to the second floor where our bedroom is located. I pass our room and make my way down the length of the hallway to a door that's bolted shut. Above our room sits a private balcony, and that's where I'm headed.

  I unlock the door and climb one last set of stairs to our little tropical patio that overlooks the city. I park my ass on one of the lush lounge chairs and inhale a breath, then exhale. It's one of those nights.

  I uncork my clear liquid and take a heavy swig of it. There's a subtle burn and it makes the hair on my arms rise. I haven't had this in so long I forgot what it tastes like. I usually drink James's cognac. I take the burn though for the next hour or so, until Natalie finds me.

  "Hello? I'm looking for Miserable Mattie," she says from behind me. She's such a sarcastic ass.

  I release a little chuckle up to the cloudless sky. I'm much looser now after working my way through a quarter of the bottle. I smile lazily over at her. She observes me with humor in her eyes and takes the lounge chair next to me.

  "Not even a chaser… I'm so proud of you." She palms her hand over her heart in mock pride. "You've come so far."

  I laugh and give her the middle finger. When we first met our freshman year of college, Natalie would give me shit for taking shots the way I did. I had to sip them and always chase with a fruity drink.

  "I know how to open my throat hole now," I say, reminding her of her old advice. Who the hell says throat hole?

  Natalie grins from ear to ear. "I see you’ve stopped with the bitch drinks too." She laughs and shakes her head, then her expression turns serious. "If we're gonna talk sex when I know you're fucking my dad on the regular, then I need to catch up to you." She holds her hand out and waves her fingers at me. "Hand me the damn bottle."

  Instead, I reach inside my pocket and pull out the joint and lighter and hand them to her. It's been a while since we've smoked.

  "Nice." She lights up—both her face and the joint—and takes a hit.

  "We're not talking sex talk," I tell her. "I don't want to talk about your dad."

  "Oh, great. Because I was going to go home and bleach my ears out if that was the case. I'd rather get brown out drunk with my bestie the night before I leave for Italy."

  My jaw drops and I turn my head to look at her. I almost laugh over her brown out comment. We’d searched the internet once for an answer as to why we could only remember some parts of a drunken night but not the whole thing. Apparently, it’s called a brown out, and we found that hysterical. But I'm too engrossed in her travel plans that I don't laugh, and I listen intently.

  "You're going to Italy tomorrow? For how long?"

  Natalie shrugs and exhales a dense cloud of smoke. She hands me the white rolled baby blunt. "I’m leaving in three days. I don't have a return date. Figured I'd see where the trip takes me and go from there. Italy is known to have the best food and lovers in the world. Why wouldn't I go there?"

  I smile to myself. "Like father, like daughter." I take a deep pull myself and watch the white cloud of smoke appear in front of me. "So, you're leaving me too?"

  "Don't get dramatic. And before we talk more about the Chronicles of Natalia and what her next phase of life is, I want to know what happened. This isn't you. In fact, I haven't seen you like this since Grammy passed away. I know, it's heartless of me to compare, but you look like someone died. Now tell me what the fuck is wrong."

  I swallow hard as tears climb the back of my eyes. I don't look at her, I can't. I know if I do, the waterworks will come. Considering the amount of mascara I wear on a daily basis, I look scary when I cry. Natalie's been trying to get me to try lash extensions for a while now. She swears by them and says I'll never wear mascara again. Now I wish I had tried them.

  I blink a few times to pull back the emotions, and then I take another hit and hand the smoke back to her.

  Don't be a little bitch. Don't be a little bitch. Don't be a little bitch. I give myself a pep talk.

  "What's the weather like in Italy right now?" I ask.

  "Oh, we're gonna play like that? Cool. Take a swig and I'll answer. Tit for tat. I'll just get you drunk and make you confess."

  My lips twitch at the blunt sarcasm in her voice. I do as she says, and she does too. One for one. I guess she's really on a mission to get drunk with me. Tequila fixe
s everything.

  Natalie doesn't answer my lame question, and I'm grateful. She just hangs with me until we smoke the rest of the joint and have a few more sips each. We listen to mostly old school New York hip hop as we chill and watch the sky further darken. My best friend knows something's wrong and just sits with me, offering her silent support. Even though I don't talk for a good hour, I know she's got to be buzzed by now. I'm drunk and high, and she matched me and caught up, yet she seems normal.

  "Whatta Man" plays through the speaker phone next and it makes me think of James. I listen to the lyrics and find myself smiling, the euphoria of this moment hitting me. My heart feels warm and tingly. I got myself a good guy and I'm stupidly risking his love. Every bone in my body says give him what he wants because that's what he'd do for me.

  "This must be my old man's theme song, judging by the corny as fuck look on your face." Natalie jokes.

  I turn my head to look at her. Oh, yeah, I was right on the money. Her eyes are glossy, and her pupils are basically all I see. She's definitely as fucked up as I am, which only makes me bark out a laugh.

  "I was just thinking it was actually." I pause and release an annoyed sigh. "Whatta fucking man is right."

  She doesn't flinch. Natalie just studies me with a softness to her. She's waiting, and if I know her, she'll wait all night for me to talk. She may even move her trip back if I don't start flapping my lips soon.

  I swallow then quietly break it down for her.

  "When you said I look like someone died, it's how I feel." My tears climb just thinking about opening up to her, but I need to. The tightness in my chest can only stretch so tight until I explode. I need to talk to get it out, and soon.

  My heart races so fast at the thought of telling her the truth. I sit up and lean over, placing my elbows on my knees and stare at the ground. My fingers are tingling like they're numb. I shake my hands out and stand, suddenly feeling really hot. I pace the balcony in my bare feet and look ahead at the twinkling office lights, they make the concrete jungle feel optimistic.

  "I'm not going anywhere, so you better open up those pretty little lips and start talking. I got all the time in the world, plus this is my dad’s house and he'd never kick me out."

  Exhaling a dramatic, loud breath, I prop my hands on my hips and level a stare at her. Natalie glares back, challenging me the way a bestie should. Despite the cool air, the liquor sends a fire through my veins and my nerves aren't helping. I blink a few times, then it all comes out before I can stop myself.

  "I'm so nervous to tell you. I don't want to fight with you, and ohmygod I have PTSD just thinking about it. I wasn't even going to talk to you about this, but the tension is eating us both and it's just getting worse, and that's the last thing I want. I don’t want to fight with him and lose you both at the same time, and I feel like that's what's gonna happen." My chest rises and falls fast, the pressure of the moment causes sharp pains around my heart. "The last thing I want to do is jeopardize our friendship because you mean the world to me, Nat. We've been there, and it's honestly the last thing I ever want to go through with you again."

  Everything comes out like I've had ten shots of espresso. I'm freaking out inside, and my ears are ringing. But Natalie is just smiling like I'm her form of entertainment for the night.

  I lick my lips and keep going, even though I feel like I'm going to cry. It's now or never. Sometimes my nerves cause tears to shed. Angry tears, happy tears, PTSD tears. I groan inwardly wondering when I became a sensitive little hussy. Lifting my eyes to the midnight sky, I exhale, trying to blink away the emotion and sort out the millions of thoughts running through my brain.

  "How the fuck did I get myself into this situation?"

  "Because you fucked your best friend's dad. Duh," Natalie replies, and I chuckle at her dark sarcasm.

  I look down and she's just smirking at me from the lounge chair. She's good at making the situation lighter, which in turn makes me slightly more comfortable sharing. Slightly, being the keyword.

  "I blame you." I joke. "If you hadn't offered to make me a millionaire floozy, then this wouldn't have happened, and I wouldn't be having a panic attack. It's killing my high."

  "Do you regret it?"

  "Well, no."

  I truly had no regret about being a high-end escort and the things I did for money.

  "Then you can't blame me for shit." She laughs. "You got what you wanted." Natalie stretches her boney arms out. "You're welcome."

  I don't know why, but it makes me blurt out what I've been stressing about incessantly for days.

  "James wants to get married."

  I wait for the aversion to appear in her eyes, but Natalie doesn't react the way I expect her to. It's the opposite, so I repeat myself just to make sure she heard me.

  "James wants to get married, like rings and all. He even asked about kids."

  She continues to smile, and it’s similar to the one James gives me when he finds my manic moments adorable.

  "What's wrong with you and your father and that stupid matching fucking smirk on your face? I tell you your dad wants to marry me, your fucking best friend, he wants to make an honest woman out of me, and you just sit there and smile?"

  She full-on belly laughs and it totally changes my mood—in a good way.

  "I'm gonna punch you," I threaten her.

  Natalie's eyes are positively bursting with laughter. "You are so dumb."

  "Can you elaborate before I have a fucking heart attack?"

  Seventeen

  Natalie moves her legs off the lounge chair and sits up.

  She gestures for me to take a seat. I hesitate and inhale a heavy breath before sitting down in front of her. Leaning toward me, she makes sure she's looking in my eyes. I roll my lip between my teeth and bite down, unsure how this night will end.

  "Were you honestly worried to tell me my dad wants to marry you?" she asks, then breaks out in a chuckle. "Okay, now that I say that out loud, I guess I can see where you're coming from."

  I nod. "It brought me back to the past—"

  "Nope. Hush. We're not going there—"

  "I know, but I don't want to do anything to ruin us, you know? That was awful, Nat, and I'd do anything to prevent that from happening again."

  She offers me a sweet smile. "Glad to know you're all about that chicks before dicks life, but this is different. Listen, that day in the restaurant, when I gave you guys my blessing, it didn't come with terms. That wouldn't have been fair of me. In fact, it’d be kinda fucked up. Am I the reason you won't marry him?"

  My brows fall. "How did you know I won't marry him?"

  Natalie gives me a droll stare. "Why do you think I'm here? Daddy called about his princess. Thanks for taking my spot, bitch."

  I clench my eyes shut and cringe. "Please don't call him Daddy."

  "Ew. No. I don’t want to know." She covers her ears as my meaning sinks in.

  We both laugh for a moment until I sober up, and say, "He called you about this?"

  "He did. It was pretty cute. He was just as nervous to talk about it as you. When he told me he asked you to marry him—not once, but like three times—and you said no each time, my jaw dropped. I can't believe you said no."

  My eyes widen. I'm going to get wrinkles from how much I'm lifting and dropping my brows. "He told you that?"

  "Oh yeah, when my dad's motivated over something, there's no stone he won't turn over to find a positive outcome. He has no shame in his game when it comes to something he loves. Can't fault him for it. It's admirable."

  My shoulders slouch, the guilt beginning to settle in my bones. "That's kind of cute of him."

  "Trust me, when he asked me to come over because he had something he wanted to tell me, that was the last thing I expected. I wasn't mad, though, and I certainly didn't reject the idea of you guys getting married. Honestly, I was really ecstatic until I heard you said no. What the hell is wrong with you?"

  She isn't angry, but more so fru
strated because I’d rejected his proposal. It makes me feel a torrent of emotions for holding back, and especially for causing James to suffer in silence. Natalie clearly has no issue and I'm not sure how to respond to that.

  "It's not just you, though." I tip my head to exhale up at the sky. "I feel like we have a good thing going on. Why put a piece of paper between us and ruin it? We're basically married now, anyway. Why do we have to change anything? I feel like that's asking for trouble. You know how they say don't wake a sleeping baby?"

  "No, I hate kids, but keep going so I can hear this nonsense."

  Natalie isn't sold. I can see it in the way she's glaring at me. I'm searching for answers from every corner of the earth, when she and I know deep down the only place I'll find them is in me.

  I sigh inwardly. "It just means don't ruin a good thing."

  "First of all, my dad’s a lawyer. He loves to live by the law. Marriage, in his eyes, is making it official. Making it official gets his jollies off. It's basically something no one can ever take from him or you. It's something only you two can have. What makes you think it'll ruin you guys, anyway? What if it bounds you together even more?"

  I stare at Natalie, wondering where this romantic side of her came from. She's usually so far removed from the idea of marriage and commitment, yet here she is giving some pretty good advice. I bet she reads my old sappy romance novels I left behind at her apartment. I bet she wants the white picket fence and two point five kids. Maybe even a dog since she hates cats.

  "I'm scared, Nat. I've lost so many good things in my life. My parents, Grammy. I almost lost you and him. You guys are all I have left. The same way James would move mountains to get what he wants, I’d do to prevent anything bad happening."

  "You didn't almost lose me. We were on a mini break." Regret softens her words.

  In times like this when everything seems impossible to have, I love my best friend even more for reminding me hope isn't lost. Our bond is strong, but that doesn't mean we're unshakable. Shit happens and it's all about how we react to it. We've lived and we’ve learned. Since day one we've been there working out our problems as a team, just like now.