Titania licked her lips, turning her gaze to her mother, her lips quirked into the half-smile Annie hadn’t seen in two months. “Hi, Mom.”
* * * * *
When Sarah awoke, she raised her arms above her head and stretched, feeling refreshed and lighthearted. At some point, she had snuggled under the top comforter; she felt safe and warm in the cocoon of covers. Her eyes drifted open. The afternoon had given way to deep evening. She sat up and the bedspread slid off her shoulders, falling into her lap. Cool wind fluttered the curtains as it breezed inside and it seemed to swirl around her, stroking her naked flesh.
“Hmmm.” Goose bumps pimpled her skin, her breasts aching as the peaks tightened. Her body’s ardent response reminded her of the dream…the wonderful, terrible dream where she made love to the mysterious Dunley. Well…sorta. She somehow felt she’d been transported to another place, that what had happened had been surreal, yet real. Even before the rape, when nightmares had not been her sleep companions, she had never dreamed so clearly, so vividly. Her guilt for “cheating” on Ben might have been silly, but it was there, its sharp claws embedded in her conscience.
Shaking off her odd thoughts and the thick blanket, she slid out of bed and landed on a pair of white-cotton slippers. She blinked. On the top of the comfy houseshoes were gold-swirled initials, DBR. Dunley’s Beach Resort. She looked at the end of the bed and confirmed her suspicion—a matching robe with the gold initials on the upper left corner. She glanced around. “Oh!”
Candles had been distributed throughout the room and on the deck. They were all lit and cast a lovely, romantic glow. She slipped on the shoes and the robe and walked to the tiny dining room table. The munchies she’d seen earlier had been exchanged. A bottle of Pinot Grigio chilled in a bucket of fresh ice. A round loaf of bread sat on an oversized white ceramic plate and next to it, on a yellow napkin, was a spoon. She lifted off the top piece of sourdough and grinned. A thick, hearty beef stew waited inside, its fragrant smell promising beef, carrots, onions, potatoes, and spices. For dessert, she’d been given strawberries and cream. As she gazed at the simple feast, her stomach rumbled and she realized she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.
“This is heaven,” she murmured, sitting down. She poured a glass of wine and ate, savoring the flavorful stew and nibbling around the edges of the “bowl”.
After she finished, she refilled her wineglass and carried it and the strawberries and cream out to the deck. Candles had been lit here, too, along the rail, with a single tealight on the small table. It was too tiny for the plate of strawberries with the attached bowl of cream, so she put it on the floor next to the chaise.
At the rail, she scooted aside some of the votives and leaned on the wood, staring at the ocean. It was too dark to see the waves roll in, but she could hear the water rush the sand and the sucking sound of it receding. The moon was just a sliver of pale light, and the stars looked liked diamonds embedded in black velvet. Sarah laughed and shook her head. The sky looked like the ultimate jewelry store. Her gaze drifted to the diamond ring on her left hand.
“Ben.” She thought of her husband, of his love for her. He’d been her rock, her anchor, her one true thing. After the rape, he’d suffered almost as much as she had. In some ways, she thought it had been worse for him because he couldn’t get inside her head and help her carry the burden.
I should call him. She put her glass of wine on the table then went to the kitchen where she’d dropped her purse onto the counter. She noticed her suitcases had been delivered and stood near the door.
She opened her purse and pulled out the cell phone, hitting speed dial. Ben picked up on the first ring.
“Hey, honey,” she said, her heart clenching. She missed him so much. “What’s going on?”
“Just sitting around the living room moping because I can’t be with you.”
She grinned at the boyish longing in his voice. Had a man ever loved a woman the way Ben loved her? “You’re the one who insisted I arrive on Wednesday. You’ll be here Friday, right?”
“In the morning,” he said. “How’s it going with you? Anything…um, happen?”
I made love to a stranger in a dream and I wished he had been you.
“No, not really. I took an outrageously long nap,” she paused, “on the bed.”
She heard him suck in a breath. “God, baby. Did you have nightmares?”
“No. It was the most wonderful sleep I’ve ever had. This place is somehow… magical. It’s wonderful here, Ben.”
“I’m glad.” He sounded glad, too, and did she sense his relief? Ben didn’t like to be away from her. On days he went to work, he called every couple of hours to talk with her, to tell her he loved her. After a while, she realized he was worried, still, that she might commit suicide.
In the weeks after the rape, it had been a real possibility. She didn’t want to live. She felt so soiled, so scarred, she took baths three or four times a day. She hadn’t been able to get off the stench of those men, could not rub away her guilt that she had somehow invited their ugly attention. If only I had double-checked the window locks before I went to bed. If only I had let Ben get the alarm system instead of complaining about the cost. If only I had gone with Ben to that stupid, inane cocktail party. If only…if only…if only…
“Sarah?”
“I’m here.”
“You okay?”
“Yes.” She walked out to the deck, kicked off the slippers, and stretched out on the chaise. “I miss you. I had this weird—” Damn it. Telling Ben about her dream was a bad idea. She didn’t want to hurt him by confessing she had a fantastic sexual experience with a phantom lover.
“Weird what?”
Shit, shit, shit. “Dream,” she admitted.
“I thought you said you didn’t have nightmares.”
“That’s why I called it a dream, Ben.” The breeze wafted over the deck and she watched the tiny flames of the votives flicker and dance. She loosened the belt of her robe and allowed it to fall open. It seemed as though the wind had become her invisible lover. She enjoyed the way her skin prickled at its gentle assault. Her breasts felt heavy, aching, needy, and her nipples tightened to near-painful points.
“Hmmm.” She settled deeper into the chaise and closed her eyes, enjoying the little gusts assailing her flesh. She’d tell Ben about the dream, but she would make him the star of it. “Do you want me to tell you about my dream?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you get comfortable?”
“I am comfortable. I’m sitting on the couch in my sweatshirt and jeans drinking a beer.”
“I’m naked.”
Chapter Four
“Naked?” Sarah heard Ben suck in a breath. “Sarah…what are you…” Another quick inhalation then, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“In the dream, I was on yards and yards of white material, almost as soft and fluffy as a cloud. Candles were everywhere. It was romantic. It was safe.” She sighed and let her hand drift from the valley between her breasts to her stomach. She stroked up again, encircling each distended nipple with a fingertip. She was reliving the dream—with one important change. “You were there. Waiting for me. Naked.”
“Oh God. Hang on a sec.” The phone clattered, presumably on the coffee table. She heard the zipper of his jeans, the soft plop of his sweatshirt, then Ben was on the line again, breathless. “I’m in my boxers. The ones you bought me Valentine’s Day.”
Two years ago. This year, they hadn’t celebrated the holiday. Ben rented videos—all romantic comedies—and they tucked in, pretending everything between them was okay. But she knew that Ben, as well as she, had remembered other Valentine’s Day celebrations, the silly ways they tried to surprise each other and the nights spent making love, renewing their vows and their passion. That, too, was the day the most vicious of her assailants had escaped, and hours later he was dead, shot by police.
Enough reliving the bad memories…it was time to
create good ones.
“You kiss me,” Sarah whispered. “Your lips are so soft, so sweet.”
“I want to put my tongue in your mouth. To taste you.”
“Do it, baby. Kiss me. Hmmm.” Sarah swirled her tongue around her lips. “What do I taste like?”
“Cinnamon toast.”
She laughed. “What?”
“Cinnamon and sugar, comfort and warmth. That’s you, Sarah.”
His description brought tears to her eyes. “I don’t deserve you.”
“Sshh. I’m kissing you.”
In the last year, she and Ben had attempted to make love only a few times. It had been too painful, too difficult to open herself to him. The idea of vaginal penetration brought her to shuddering sobs. Her desire to be with Ben, to recreate the physical intimacy they had once shared, simply had not been stronger than the memories of that terrible night.
But today, after the dream with Dunley, she felt stronger, more alive and happy than she’d been in a long time. She felt defiant and willing and lustful. Maybe when Ben arrived on Friday they could begin again—one more time—and suture the deep cut in her soul with their love. For now, though, she could gift him with this…
“I feel your mouth on my breast, your tongue swirling around the nipple. It hardens and you suckle it. Oh Ben, that feels good.” She shifted restlessly, almost feeling a male mouth on her tit, the wetness of a tongue, the touch of a strong hand. Her legs fell open and with one finger she stroked her clit. Her stomach quivered, sending a tender vibration into her pussy, making her thighs tremble.
“Touch your cock,” she commanded softly. “Wrap your hand around it and pretend it’s me. I wish I could suck it. Yes, oh yes. I want my lips on your hard dick, sucking and stroking and licking.”
Ben moaned. She imagined his eyes closed, the phone cradled between his shoulder and cheek, as he reached into the heart-dotted silk shorts and wrapped his hand around his thick penis. He had a wonderful cock. It filled her, brought her to pleasure. She wanted to feel him inside her, plunging with swift, sure strokes…her pussy tightened at the image. She was already wet. She slid her finger through the slickness to dip inside.
“Sarah, you feel so good. What are you doing to me?”
“I’m kissing your neck. Nibbling that sensitive spot below your ear.” She could almost feel his shudder. She pushed two fingers inside her cunt and slowly pierced herself. “Feel my tongue on your chest, baby. Kissing those flat, brown peaks and nipping at them with my teeth. But I can’t wait to get back to that luscious cock. It’s so big and so hard.”
“It’s been too long, Sarah.” His breath hitched. “I don’t know how much longer I can wait.”
“What are you doing to me, Ben?”
“Sucking those gorgeous nipples. I love your breasts. Their shape, their weight, the way they feel in my hands. I kiss your neck, your stomach, your hips. My tongue slides down the inside of your thigh and I taste your beautiful cunt. You’re sweet, baby. Like sipping nectar.” His breathing was shallow, thready, and he groaned.
She knew he was stroking himself fast now. Fast and hard. She matched the same furious pace with her own strokes and felt the building of her orgasm, the jagged tendrils of pleasure too long denied.
“What do you want now, Sarah?”
She knew what he asked. How far could the fantasy go? Would pretending penetration bring back the memories? Not this time.
“Fuck me, Ben,” she cried. “Put your cock inside me and fuck me.”
“Yes, Sarah.” He moaned, long and low, and she knew he was imagining that first deep plunge into her pussy. She could almost believe a man’s penis slid inside her, filling her, taking deep strokes. It felt good. So good.
“Oh God, Sarah.” He panted and moaned. “My dick’s inside you. I’m fucking you. Hard. Plunging into that sweet little cunt. You’re so tight. So wet.”
Her hips arched off the chaise as she furiously rubbed her clit and reached for the stars. Pleasure exploded like a thousand fireworks, sparkling heat that burned and cleansed.
“Sarah! I’m coming. Oh God. I’m coming inside you.” He groaned and the phone dropped away. In the daze of her own orgasm, she heard the sounds of her husband’s bliss echo through the line, and smiled.
* * * * *
On Thursday morning, Annie stood in the chapel surveying her boxes of souls, her glance sliding to the one labeled “Miranda”. It was no accident that Annie had claimed the souls of Miranda and Dunley. Dying while betraying another put both of them squarely into her area of work. She offered redemption to those lost in the place between alive and dead.
Some did nothing more than cause pain in their Earthly lives. Among them were the select few who enjoyed inflicting pain on their fellow human beings. These evil energies that had once been human souls turned into what was called “darkers”. They went into Limbo and relived their heinous acts over and over again. Then there were others, others who in genuine contrition sought forgiveness, who wanted to move into the Light. Dunley and Miranda had been two such souls.
Annie had never removed Miranda from Limbo. Her motto was “Harm none”, but even the tenets of a white witch’s faith could be tested. It was easier to face Dunley, who had at least not claimed to love Ti, than to release the girl who had been Ti’s best friend since junior high. What was she supposed to say to the woman who’d been like her other daughter?
Annie pulled the box out of its slot. “Miranda.”
She appeared in an instant, the slim, curly-haired girl Ti had loved so well. She wore a red T-shirt, a pair of faded jeans, and white Keds. She floated a few inches above the ground and looked more solid than most ghosts called to the chapel. She didn’t hold the confused look of a soul who didn’t understand what had happened to her or where she had been. She looked resolved and patient. She inclined her head. “Annie.”
“Miranda.” Annie inhaled a fortifying breath. “Ti has been unwell since your and Dunley’s deaths. Today, for a few minutes, she came out of her self-imprisonment. She told me…she told me to get you and to ask you to tell me the truth.”
“Is she okay?”
“No.” Annie frowned at the resentment levied in her tone. She blew out a breath. “She collapsed after the car wreck. She just…she tried to kill herself.”
“Oh God.” Miranda’s calm expression faltered. “She wants you to know the truth?”
“Yes. But I know it, don’t I? You and Dunley betrayed her.”
“No. No!”
“Souls with good intentions do not end up here. They go into the Light.”
“Unless they don’t want to go.”
Annie frowned. “What? You were offered the Light?”
“Of course.” Miranda floated around the room, looking at the boxes, the materials for potions, the beautifully carved altar. “Dunley was offered it, too. We both walked away from it. We both chose you.”
“That’s not possible.”
“Choice isn’t taken away after death, Annie.” Miranda completed her circle. “If Ti wants me to tell you the truth, I will.” She returned to the altar and passed her hand through a sage stick Annie used for cleansing the room before she performed a ceremony. “This is very important to you, isn’t it? The tradition of passing your gift and your knowledge and your responsibility from mother to daughter…it’s been that way for generations.”
Annie nodded. “One mother, one daughter.”
Miranda turned and faced Annie. “Tradition is to conceive young so that mothers have time to train their daughters. You can’t marry. You’re not supposed to have other children. It’s such a burden.”
“One we gladly bear. No daughter has ever turned away from her destiny, but always embraced it.”
“I know.” Miranda floated higher and sat as if she had a chair underneath her. “Ti loved you. She wanted to follow in your footsteps, but there was a problem. One she couldn’t share with you.”
“Infertility?” Annie laughed. �
�That’s an impossibility with our knowledge and our magic.”
“How many times we wanted to tell you…oh Annie. Ti is my soulmate. We fell in love in the seventh grade. We didn’t understand it at the time, but later on, we did. Ti and I were in so much love. We lost our virginity to each other. But there was one thing I could not give her. A child.”
Annie reeled as shock reverberated through her, so strong she felt her bones quake. “Chair,” she gasped. One flew from its post near the door and caught her as she crumpled.
“Ti is almost twenty. Two years older than when you got pregnant with her. She wanted to follow the traditions. She knew she had to conceive and soon. But how?”
“Dunley?” She pressed a hand to her mouth then let it fall into her lap. “Oh my God.” She struggled with the concept of Ti’s sexuality, of how her love for Miranda must have battled with her desire to keep the centuries-long traditions of her family. “He told me…he’d dumped Ti. That he and you were…he lied. He told terrible, vicious lies. Why?”
“Because the truth would send us to the Light. It’s one thing to have a choice and quite another to have a powerful witch cast you forward into the afterlife.” Miranda grinned, her blue eyes twinkling. “He had to lie. To stay.”
“Why would he want to stay? If he was just a…a sperm donor.”
“It wasn’t quite like that. Ti and I liked Dunley, and he liked us. We had fun together. We…well, I guess we loved each other. It wasn’t the same as with me and Titania. The three of us…” Miranda waved as hand as if to conjure the right words. “Dunley and I wanted to protect Ti. I knew how she would react at our deaths. She’s got an unshakeable innate strength, but she’s also fragile.”
“What about the accident?” Annie stood, but her knees wobbled, and she sat down again.
“I don’t know. Dunley and I haven’t been able to figure it out. It was almost as if something wanted us to crash. The brakes failed. Then the wheel got jerked out of his hand…” Miranda shrugged. “We didn’t go into the Light because we wanted to help Ti move on in this life. But something evil was in the car that night. I felt it, in my chest, in my head, like a suffocating darkness. It went into Limbo with us, and hovered just beyond our perimeter, waiting.”
Two Men and a Lady Page 20
