Coming Home

by Lydia Michaels

  Evelyn’s drink was set before her, its attractive graduating blush deepening like a crimson sunrise. She took a sip. The sweet grenadine countered the burn of tequila.

  Lucian scrutinized her. His posture relaxed and the thumb of his other hand rubbed slowly over his glass of brandy. “Good?”

  “Mmm, very,” she agreed, easing back in her chair.

  The song changed, and the lighting amended from blues and reds to pinks and vibrant shades of fuchsia. The music was a cross between contemporary and some form of opera. It was very sultry, with words in some fluid language much prettier than English.

  A woman walked onto the stage, dressed in Victorian finery. Her hair was white and pinned in a crown of toppling curls. Her bust overflowed from the tightly cinched whalebone corset. And from her hips flowed a cascade of rich fabrics in shades of cornflower and gold.

  She carried herself gracefully, her motions clearly choreographed with the music as she perched herself on the edge of the settee. Producing a fancy feathered fan from her hip, she fanned herself rapidly. Her expression was tense and upset.

  Suddenly another woman bustled onto the stage. Her clothing was much more subdued, but nonetheless spectacular. The hoop-skirt gown was all black and covered even her wrists. She wore a delicate apron that had impeccable lacework. Upon her head was a muffin-top white cap. A maid.

  Lucian’s hand tightened on hers. His breath tickled her neck as he whispered. “Mmm, she doesn’t look half as beautiful as you did in your uniform.”

  Evelyn blushed and quickly turned back to the stage. The women were playacting, but not speaking. The foreign lyrics of the opera spoke for them. The mistress in her finery stood and showed a great deal of duress as her hands swung in animation. The maid soothed and petted her until she calmed.

  The mistress sat and cupped her face in her palms as the maid caressed her shoulders in a comforting manner. The tone of the music shifted, and slowly, the maid began to undo her mistress’s clothing. The mistress glanced at her curiously and the maid gave her a subservient bat of her eyes. The mistress nodded and the maid continued.

  Lucian’s arm rested over Evelyn’s shoulder. He passed her right hand to the hand dangling over her shoulder, locking their fingers together above her breast. His other hand went to her knee and rubbed softly over her stocking.

  The mistress stood and the maid undid her bustle. Her luxurious skirt fell in a puddle at her feet and the maid kneeled to collect the garment; Evelyn gasped. It was a dirty show. Sweeping it away, the maid remained low and stared up at her mistress, an inquiring set to her eyes.

  Small hands petted tentatively down plush, lily-white thighs. The mistress tilted her head in confusion. The maid traced a finger over her garters and paused just at her mistress’s sex. The mistress jumped and so did Evelyn, as Lucian’s hand was suddenly touching her in the same place.

  Evelyn’s eyes jerked from the stage to Lucian’s hand at her crotch, then to his face. His mouth kicked up in a slow, wicked grin. Leaning forward, he whispered, “It’s burlesque. She’s going to fuck her naughty maid right here in front of everyone . . . and I’m going to fuck mine.”

  Understanding dawned with the force of a tidal wave. A full-body quiver rushed through her, and Lucian swept aside her panties and sunk his finger deep between her folds just as her sex contracted in a mini pre-orgasm.

  “Mmm, good girl.”

  Evelyn’s knees trembled as his finger slowly fucked her under the linen covering the table. Her eyes swept the room, seeing no one was watching them. Onstage, the mistress was sprawled out on the settee. One vintage slipper fell to the stage as the maid pressed a trail of kisses up her leg.

  Lucian’s fingers found her clit and rubbed gentle circles over the tiny nub. Evelyn was shaking so fiercely it was a wonder she could remain upright. His teeth scraped up her throat and nibbled on the lobe of her ear. “Come.”

  Just like that, her body exulted. Quivers rocked her as her sex contracted. Luckily, the intense opera covered the moan that escaped her parted lips. Bodies writhed on stage in time with the pulse of her pussy. Evelyn’s vision blurred and she was lifted onto his lap.

  Lucian arranged her limbs over his and kept her facing the stage. She braced her palms on the table. A man suddenly appeared onstage and the women sprang apart. The maid was chased off and the man leered at the mistress. Her gown was dragged to the underside of her pert little breasts. The man approached, scooping up a feathered fan and dragging it over the mistress’s throat, slowly undoing the hook fastenings of her corset.

  Lucian’s heated flesh brought Evelyn back to her own circumstances. He was really going to fuck her! Here!

  “Shh, shh, shh. Look around. We’re not the only ones.”

  Evelyn’s gaze covertly scanned the room. Bodies arched and couples leaned close. She could almost smell the carnality of the space. Church indeed!

  He lifted her limbs, and her panties were jerked to the side once more. Fitting himself at the mouth of her sex, he slowly slid her down, forcing her to take all of him or risk exposure. Not that anyone seemed to care what they were doing.

  She moaned at the sense of fullness. His fingers dug into her hips, through the fabric of her bunched skirt, as he lifted her and brought her down hard on his cock.

  He grunted. The fingers of his other hand gathered her clothing and found her clit. Evelyn’s flesh was still sensitive from her recent climax. Her body jerked reflexively in his grip and his hold tightened.

  “I’ll never forget how you disarmed me that day I found you in my suite, dressed so properly in your little housekeeping uniform. When I thought you were nosing through my belongings I wanted to throttle you, but not nearly as much as I wanted to fuck you. The moment you looked at me with those crystalline blue eyes I was hard. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, Evelyn.”

  She was beyond speech. The actors were past performing. A full out sexcapade was taking place on the stage. Hands groped and toes curled. Evelyn was stuffed full of Lucian’s big cock as he continued to direct her motions, making her ride him hard as he whispered into her ear.

  His fingers pinched down on her clit, and her sex convulsed. He groaned and moved her faster. His hands slid under her blouse and dragged the lace cups of her bra down. He found her hard nipples and pinched the little tips. His hips rocked into her. Her leg muscles worked to keep her body moving with his.

  The actors onstage screamed and grunted with pleasure. It was a fantasy of the flesh. Peeks of pink folds and blushing breasts swirled before her. Dainty hands caressed lush thighs and painted lips curled in expressions of raw pleasure.

  “You’re going to come for me one last time, Evelyn. With me. Are you ready?”

  He thrust into her, hard. His fingers curved over her breasts in a bruising grip. She moaned long and loud and . . . something hard suddenly crashed into her.

  Scout shouted. The fuzzy sense of falling lingered in her sleep-addled mind as she pressed up on her hands and knees. What the hell?

  She was on the floor, blankets twisted around her feet. Disoriented, she looked around. It was dawn. She was in her new apartment. Her earlier erotic memory must have carried over to her sleep.

  Sitting back on her heels, she rubbed her forehead. Visions of the night Lucian had taken her to the burlesque show dancing in her head. God, that was an incredible night.

  Defeated, she sighed and moaned. The sun wasn’t even up and she’d already broken her vow not to think about him. Throwing her head back on her mattress, she drew up her knees where she sat on the floor, and groaned. The problem with having a lover like Lucian Patras was, once he got inside of you, it was impossible to get him out.

  Chapter 5

  Snap

  Work was work. Fridays were always a bit more hectic than other days. Wednesdays were big with the seniors, she’d learned, but on Fridays customers slam
med the store with orders for the weekend. Scout barely had a chance to pee all day.

  Around one o’clock they had their first lull since morning. She straightened up her register and tidied her drawer. She was just about to tell Nick she was going to take her lunch, when the back of her neck prickled. Turning, she spotted Mr. Gerhard coming down her aisle.

  “Evelyn, I’d like to speak to you in my office, please.”

  Her stomach knotted. Her manager, who wasn’t much older than her, carried himself as though he were in his fifties. For some reason this guy gave her an oozy feeling—not in a good way.

  She nodded and shut her drawer, flicking off her light. Mr. Gerhard had a neatly trimmed mustache and thin lips under there somewhere. His glasses were dated and so thick they made his eyes huge. He always smelled of peppermint and coffee and looked as if he were made of wax.

  They entered the glorified storage room that was his office and he gestured for her to take a seat in the metal folding chair. She waited for him to talk.

  Sighing, he steepled his fingers and studied her for a long moment. “Ms. Keats, there seems to be a problem with your paperwork.”

  Oh no. “What’s wrong?” It was likely her information. She’d applied for her job at Clemons before Lucian handed over her legal documents. She’d worked a myriad of jobs under false information, never having paid taxes a day in her life.

  “Your social security number belongs to a man who died last April.”

  She pretended surprise. It was all a random selection of digits. She hadn’t purposely tried to steal a dead person’s identity. “It does?”

  “Yes, it does,” Mr. Gerhard said with zero amusement.

  “I have my card in my bag. Maybe I got the number wrong.”

  “I’ll need to see a copy of your card.”

  She reached down and produced her identification papers. They were too precious and she’d gone without for far too long to not carry them everywhere with her. Life was unpredictable, and proof of identity was a new freedom she’d never had. She slid the papers across his desk.

  He examined the documents carefully. “This is nothing close to what you put down.”

  “Sorry. I recently moved. I’ve been doing a lot of paperwork and must’ve crossed that number with a number for something else.”

  “I’ll have to copy this and send it down to headquarters.”

  Mr. Gerhard seemed to think he worked for the CIA, not a local supermarket. “Sure. But I’ll need the original back.”

  “Of course.” His posture relaxed as he tucked the card away. She didn’t like that he was keeping it for even more than a minute. “How are you enjoying your job so far?”

  Aside from missing her lunch and starving and being forced to endure this awkward, private conversation? “So far so good.”

  “Good.”

  Several beats of time passed in uncomfortable silence. “Any problems I should know of?”

  “Umm . . . no.”

  “Good. Well, I’ll let you get back to work. Have you taken lunch yet? I was going to walk down to Little Sicily’s if you’d—”

  Ew!

  “I packed my lunch, but thank you.”

  He looked regretful. “Perhaps another time.”

  Not freaking likely, wax man. “Perhaps,” she said uncomfortably, likely wearing the most insincere smile to ever exist.

  Scout stood and made her way to the door without looking back. When she returned to the main area of the store her appetite vanished. Sighing, she walked back to her register.

  “What was that about?” Nick asked from the register beside her. He was folding a receipt in the shape of a football and proceeded to flick it into a basket at the end of his belt. His voice mimicked the sound of a crowd screaming in the distance when it reached its goal.

  “Something with my paperwork.”

  “You look frazzled. He ask you to comb his mustache or something?”

  She snorted. “Ew, no! He tried to ask me to lunch though.”

  Nick laughed, his blue eyes shutting as his head tilted back. He was her age and definitely made the days at Clemons go by faster. “That’s great! You too can have a bunch of little farsighted babies with receding hairlines and hairy lips!”

  She threw an apple at him someone had left because it was bruised. “Shut up! It’s not funny.”

  “Whatever you say, Mrs. Gerhard.”

  The rest of the afternoon passed quickly. The rush of customers petered out, and by three o’clock Scout regretted skipping lunch. She’d contemplated eating her sandwich on the sly at her register, but Mr. Gerhard appeared to return her social security card and once more obliterated her appetite.

  As she walked the three blocks home, she decided she’d eat and then find the DMV so she could change over her address on her ID. Although she didn’t have a driver’s license, Nick, from work, told her that was where state IDs came from.

  “Scout!”

  The sound of her name being shouted so urgently had her jumping. She turned and sucked in a breath. Parker.

  Her teeth locked down as he jogged across the street after her. She turned and quickly walked toward home. He must have been waiting for her outside of Clemons. He’d helped her apply for her job and was right to assume she wouldn’t give it up just because her life derailed—derailed partly because of him.

  “Scout, wait!”

  “Go away, Parker. I have nothing to say to you.”

  Her feet slapped against the pavement as she sped up. She didn’t want to even look at him.

  “I need to talk to you.”

  “Tough!” She turned the corner and heard him closing on her. Could she just have one day without assholes from her past stalking her every step?

  “Please wait.”

  Saying nothing, she marched on, her lips pursed tightly over her clenched teeth and her eyes narrowed. Parker used to be her best friend, but proved to be nothing but an underhanded schmuck.

  “Scout, please—”

  Hissing in frustration, she turned on him. “What could you possibly want?”

  She gasped. Jesus Christ. His face was a hodgepodge of black and blue bruises. There was a gash over his left eye and his jaw was discolored with a smattering of ugly green marks. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “Lucian’s what happened to me. Scout, don’t you see? He isn’t safe.”

  Her lips tightened. She wasn’t falling into this pissing match. “Well, he isn’t in my life anymore, so you can find another cause.” Pivoting, she walked off.

  He grabbed her arm, and that was mistake number one. She turned on him and a beast emerged from within her. “Don’t touch me!”

  He flinched and immediately let go of her arm. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  She laughed bitterly. “Sorry? You’re sorry? Oh, well, doesn’t that just fix everything. How’s this, Parker? Fuck you!”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  She’d had just about enough of men and their crap. “Hurt me? You didn’t hurt me. I’m not the one standing here covered in bruises.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  She stepped into his space and shoved a finger in his face. “Let me clear something up for you. It takes more than some self-serving asshole to hurt me. If I was hurt, I’d have to care and I don’t! I don’t care about you. I don’t care about our past. I don’t care about anything you may think I do. Your arrogance is what got you into this mess, so I’m going to do you a favor and tell you your intuition sucks. You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about the person I am or the things that hold meaning to me. You. Are. Nothing. So go play your games with someone who gives a shit.”

  His shoulders drooped, his expression dejected. “I did it to protect you.”

  Emotion bit at her throat, and tears burned
her eyes.

  “Protect me?” she barked. “Since when do I need someone to protect me? I was the one looking out for your dumb ass all those years! You may know how to read and sell stocks, but you don’t know shit about surviving. You know and I know this ambitious act you’ve been putting on is all bullshit. I’m not buying it, and I regret the day I ever trusted anything out of your mouth. Now, leave me alone.”

  The blood rushed from his battered face. “You don’t mean that.”

  “I mean every word,” she growled.

  “Scout . . . I love you.”

  Rage choked her, but she shoved it down. Shutting her eyes, she growled. His proclamation did nothing for his case. It merely irritated her a hundred times more. “Love, Parker? Really? Let me tell you something about love. People write about it because it’s harder than any war and greater than any epic. It’s vast and cold and empty and usually unrequited. That’s what love is. It’s misery and if you love me I’m glad, because I’ll never love you back and that is exactly what you deserve.”

  She turned and walked away. He didn’t follow. Fuck the DMV. She was going home and if she ventured anywhere it was going to be to a liquor store. When she saw the insurance office below her apartment relief set in. Almost home.

  As Scout rounded the alleyway to her apartment door, she came up short. Nerves pinched at the back of her neck as she intruded on two unkempt men passing money and drugs. They jumped at her sudden appearance. Great. They were blocking the few steps separating her from her home, and there was no way she was letting them see this was where she lived.

  “You need something, girlie?” the man with a gap in his teeth asked.

  “Uh, no. Just made a wrong turn.” She turned away to exit the alley.

  “Well, now wait a minute. Maybe we can help you find what you’re looking for,” the other man said.

  She kept walking. “No. I’m set.”

  Gap-tooth skipped alongside her and cut her off before she could reach the sidewalk. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be walking around by yourself. Young too. Bet you aren’t even eighteen. What do you think, Kev?”