Down and Dirty

by Taylor Holloway

  I laughed, wondering how he managed to go from the sort of person who would engineer elaborate gag gifts to living like a hermit in a dark, frozen wasteland. I wanted to ask him again, but knew it was pointless. I’d have to figure it out all on my own.

  “Does Amazon deliver out here?” I asked instead, and Nicholas shook his head sadly.

  “Sort of? It takes a lot longer, is much more expensive, and just generally sucks,” he replied. “To be honest, that was almost a deal breaker for me at first. I was so used to having everything I needed or wanted at my fingertips in Philadelphia. Then I got here and had to drive an hour and a half just to buy toilet paper.”

  “You could do what my great-grandmother used to do during the Dust bowl in Oklahoma,” I suggested.

  “You had better not be suggesting corncobs or leaves or something,” he grumbled, “because while I may have adapted to one-ply toilet paper since it’s all my composting toilet can handle, there is a zero percent chance I will lower my standards beneath that.”

  For the first time, I could clearly see the shadow of the person that Nicholas Durant had used to be before the whole Alaskan mountain man thing. There was a bit of an edge left in him that suggested he’d once been a spoiled rich boy after all. If I looked carefully, I could see it in the stubborn line of his mouth and the way his eyes narrowed.

  “Not quite,” I replied. “She said they used pages from the phone book. She was recycling!”

  Nicholas rolled his eyes at me.

  “Yeah, um, no. That’s not gonna’ happen. Thanks for the suggestion though.”

  “I’m just trying to help,” I said with a shrug, “my nana was a very thrifty lady. She would have been very impressed with your bread baking and canning operation, actually.”

  “So, you’re from Oklahoma then?” Nicholas asked, “I wouldn’t have guessed that at all from your accent. You don’t sound very southern.”

  I laughed.

  “No, I’m not from Oklahoma. Nana was and my mom is from there, but I was born and raised in south Clifftop, New Jersey.”

  His eyes widened until there was no room for them to get any bigger, and his eyebrows shot up.

  The obnoxious thing about being from Clifftop is that other people in the rest of the Northeast think you must have basically grown up in a war zone. In reality, Clifftop is just like every other not-that-prosperous part of America, it’s just a little bit uglier and more famous. For some reason (and it would probably take a sociologist or a psychologist or somebody with “-ologist” at the end of their professional credentials to say why ), there had been a few particularly grisly, high-profile murder cases over the past few years, and Clifftop seemed to frighten people just a little bit more than any other crappy part of New Jersey. In reality, it was getting better since people were afraid to move there.

  “Oh,” Nicholas said weakly. He was still looking at me like I’d just admitted to being from North Korea.

  “Have you ever been to Clifftop?” I asked Nicholas, and he shook his head.

  “Well then don’t feel sorry for me. It’s not the hell it seems like on the news when they start hand wringing about the crime statistics. Yeah everybody’s pretty poor, but not everybody’s a criminal. That wouldn’t even be statistically possible! Most people are just… regular, normal people who don’t have a lot of money.”

  Nicholas was definitely stealing glances while he was driving like he felt pity for me.

  “Stop it!” I groaned.

  “I didn’t even say anything!” He replied indignantly.

  “Yeah but you were thinking it really loudly. You’re feeling sorry for me. I shouldn’t have told you,” I said, shaking my head. This was why I didn’t tell many people where I was from. They always got this weird look on their faces like I was a refugee or something. I sighed. It was even worse coming from Nicholas because he was born richer than anyone I’d ever met. He probably couldn’t even imagine being poor any more than I could imagine having Durant family money.

  “Look,” I told him, “being born poor sucks. I’m not going to pretend like it doesn’t suck. But it’s not the end of the world. My mom is doing ok, I’m doing ok. Last year my mom moved from South Clifftop to Philly with her new husband Bob. They’re super happy and still not rich or anything but they’re doing ok. My mom has gone through some hard times, and then things eventually got better. Stop feeling bad for me. I’m fine. Just because I didn’t grow up diving into swimming pools of money like Scrooge McDuck like you, doesn’t mean I want or need your pity.”

  Nicholas didn’t seem to know what to say.

  “I never dove into any swimming pools full of money like Scrooge McDuck,” he finally said, “but I did ask my dad about it once. He said no.”

  We smiled weakly at one another.

  Thankfully, the awkward car ride was almost at an end. Once I was gone, Nicholas could feel sorry for me, or hate me, or whatever he wanted. In truth, he probably wouldn’t ever think of me again. The point was that I’d be gone.

  Assuming that my rented SUV could get me into town, that is.

  As we pulled up on the incident from the night before, my heart sank in my chest like it had just been transmuted to lead. My nana would have said that the SUV looked like it had been “rode hard and put up wet”. In other words, it looked like shit.

  10

  Nicholas

  I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but there was a zero percent chance that Jenna’s Toyota Four Runner was road worthy. It was totaled. Catastrophically. The blue, fairly new-looking SUV had succumbed to the awesome power of the mighty Alaskan moose and would never drive anyone anywhere ever again.

  “I want to get a closer look at it,” Jenna insisted as we parked behind it, “maybe it just looks extra bad from this angle. All I need to do is get back to the airport.”

  I raised my eyebrows but said nothing. She needed to figure it out for herself, and I wasn’t going to crush her optimism. Following reluctantly as she jumped out of my truck and took off over the new snow, I became even more convinced that my initial assessment of its condition had been correct. Harley hopped out after me and sniffed around the scene curiously. There were apparently lots of delicious animal smells left over from last night, even through the layers of fresh snow.

  “Don’t run off, Harley,” I told her sternly. She sat down obstinately at my side. Harley had a lot of personality, and was not well socialized around people or animals, but she was very well trained. When I told her to do something, she did it. Mostly. She’d never seen a wrecked car before, however, so I relented a moment later and let her sniff around the SUV.

  The hood was dented deeply in several places where it looked like the moose had walked on top of it at one point. The dents were roughly the size of moose hooves: dinner plate sized. The windshield was still technically intact but cracked all over like a spider web. Aside from the one rear tire that Jenna had blown out while driving, both front tires were pointing out at obtuse angles from the weight of the moose on the front. If I had to guess, the axle itself was toast. The guess was impossible to confirm, however, because clearance beneath the vehicle was only a few inches at the front. The passenger’s and driver’s side doors were so badly dented that Jenna and I couldn’t get them open, even when we both pulled on them together. She shimmied in through the back seat instead, which gave me an excellent view of her ass.

  I waited and watched patiently, and Harley rolled around in the snow while Jenna tried to get the engine to turn over. She really gave it a good try. But after about five minutes she hung her head in defeat and crawled back out of her destroyed vehicle. I didn’t bother to tell her that without a pan warmer or a cold starter, there was no way any car would start at this temperature. The point was mute. Even if she’d managed to get the car running, she wouldn’t have been able to drive it.

  “Now what?” She asked me despondently, “Should I call a tow truck or something? I’m guessing there isn’t a taxi around he
re.”

  “You should try the rental car company,” I told her seriously. “They’ll send someone but they probably won’t get here very quickly unless you’re especially lucky.”

  Jenna, Harley and I got back in my truck and she got on the phone. Since the moment I drove up and saw the condition of Jenna’s car in the weak, Alaskan daylight, a countdown clock had started in my brain. The knowledge that the numbers of my mental clock were ticking resolutely downward was the only thing that made listening to Jenna’s conversation with the rental car company bearable.

  “Tomorrow at the soonest?!” She screeched into the phone after about ten minutes of back and forth with what I’m sure was a very uninterested, rude rental car clerk in Anchorage, “Why can’t you get someone here today? Yes today. This is ridiculous… Yes, I know I’m in Alaska… I told you, it was a moose… I didn’t hit it! It hit me…I need to get home today…Why do you keep asking me if I know I’m in Alaska? I know where I am... Can I speak to your manager?”

  She stared down at her phone and then looked over at me in disbelief.

  “The lady hung up on me!” Jenna exclaimed. I stifled a smile. It wouldn’t be right to laugh at Jenna’s frustration, even if it was pretty adorable. She pushed her curls over her ears in anger and confusion and made a noise like a tea kettle.

  “So, are you staying another night, or do you want me to take you into town?” I asked her in as neutral a voice as I could manage, “There’s no hotel there obviously, but Marla-Jean would probably let you stay with her if that made you feel more comfortable. She’s a nice woman, if a bit eccentric.”

  Jenna looked at me inquisitively.

  “Do you want me to stay with Marla-Jean, whoever that is?” She asked me in a careful voice, “Just be honest if you do. I won’t be upset. I don’t want to outstay my welcome with you. I know you didn’t ask for me to show up and get all up in your personal business.”

  At the moment I wanted nothing more than for Jenna to be up in my personal business.

  “I just want you to be happy,” I told her. It was a lie that I had no opinion on the topic, but it was the right thing to say given the circumstances. “You’re welcome to stay with me for another night if you want to. I could use the company anyway.”

  That last part was one hundred percent true. I held my breath as she deliberated. A little line formed between her eyebrows as she thought about it. I felt like I was balanced on a tightrope over a volcano.

  “I’d rather stay with you, if you’re ok with it,” Jenna finally said in a quiet voice, looking at me with a quality in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before and wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret, “I don’t know this Marla-Jean person. I’d rather stay with you.”

  “Ok,” I said.

  “Ok,” she replied.

  I put the truck in drive and turned us around (it had been idling the entire time- a waste of gas but an absolute necessity in -10-degree weather). The drive back home to my cabin was totally silent. Every now and then I stole a glance at Jenna and noticed she’d been stealing glances back at me. Mostly though, she stared down at her hands, which were clasped primly in her lap. Harley watched us both, cocking her head to the side as her little dog brain tried to interpret our strange behavior. In my mind, the timer ticked down, down, down…

  11

  Jenna

  Everything in the world can be separated into two discrete categories: necessary and unnecessary. Oxygen? Necessary. Water? Necessary. Food? Necessary.

  Almost everything else was fundamentally unnecessary. Even things like clothing, literacy, and fire were luxuries. But when Nicholas and I walked back into his cabin that afternoon, something else had become necessary between us: passion.

  I’m not sure who reached out first. It might have been completely simultaneous. All I knew was that as soon as we were inside, we were in each other’s arms.

  Our first kiss was full of curiosity, anticipation, and wonder. My heart was slamming in my chest and I felt incredibly light and heavy at the same time. Like Alice falling through the looking glass on her way to Wonderland, or Dorothy flying through the tornado to Oz, reality was realigning right in front of me.

  Nicholas’ real kisses were better—so much better—than my fantasies the night before. His tongue sought mine with a sweet, fierce urgency. His beard, which I initially thought might be hard, wiry, and scratchy, was actually very soft. I liked the feeling of it. Sensation and need shot through me and I rose eagerly to the challenge, kissing him back with every ounce of need that I’d suppressed the night before.

  Somehow, I quickly ended up with my back against the door to Nicholas’ bedroom. I had buried my hands in his soft, golden-brown hair, and one of his arms was wrapped tightly around my waist while the other cupped my ass in a firm grip. If I’d had the presence of mind, I’d have taken things slowly. I’d have made this part last a little longer. But I didn’t have any self-control left. All I was aware of in that moment was that we were both wearing too many clothes, and that this door wasn’t an ideal location for anything more than making out.

  I reached a fumbling had behind me and turned the handle to the bedroom door. We both stumbled back a bit, but without breaking our kiss, Nicholas caught his balance and eased me backward until my calves hit the back of his bed. He set me down into a sitting position and I lifted my shirt over my head and stared up at him.

  In front of me, Nicholas stood looking at me sitting topless on his bed like he was dying of thirst and I was an oasis in the desert. No man had ever looked at me like that before. His gaze held a mixture of wonder, need, and gratitude that combined into something that felt almost like worship. It made me feel beautiful and desirable. It made me feel strong and uninhibited. And I wanted to feel that way forever.

  I leaned forward and unbuttoned Nicholas’ shirt, reaching my inquisitive hands underneath as I pulled each button free and relishing in the sensation of the strong, lean muscles concealed below the fabric. He was so much better looking shirtless than I’d even imagined. He shouldn’t even be allowed to wear shirts. He helped on the top few buttons that were beyond my reach and sat down next to me on the bed as I pulled the material fully off his broad chest.

  We reached for each other again and I wanted to devour him with my touch. Each inch of Nicholas’ skin I brushed my fingers over only made me crave two more, and I knew that his pants needed to go immediately. We maneuvered awkwardly to rid ourselves of our lower garments and soon I was wearing only my lavender lingerie and he was down to boxers.

  “My god, Jenna, you’re perfect,” he murmured into the hollow between my breasts when he snapped the bra off me moment later. I smiled blissfully at the compliment, arching into his touch when he cupped me and then tugged at my nipples until they formed even harder points under his fingertips. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Nicholas grasped my shoulders and pressed my back into the mattress. I reached for him and when I felt his weight on top of me, and the power of his arousal pressed firmly against my thigh, I didn’t know if I could wait any longer. My entire body was urging me on and ready for more.

  “I’m on the pill,” I told him in between kisses. He pulled back and looked down at me like he had completely forgotten about the necessity of protection.

  “Thank god,” he said breathily, shaking his head in obvious self-recrimination. “Because I definitely don’t have any condoms.”

  I smirked with satisfaction and pulled him back to me. There were a few in my purse (my doctor’s office gave them out for free, so I always grabbed a handful despite having no use for them with my workaholic lifestyle), but he didn’t need to know about that. It made me secretly happy to know that Nicholas didn’t have female company here often. I was an only child. I never learned how to share.

  Nicholas pulled my panties down my legs awkwardly, and I was glad that my last bikini wax was only a week ago. I was still totally smooth between my legs. His thick, long fingers explored my most intimate crease
s with excruciating tenderness as he flicked his tongue in and out of my mouth. I arched and made little circles with my hips as he touched and learned my geography, and I gasped when he located my entrance and thrust his index finger deep inside of me.

  After a few strokes he withdrew the finger, and I was already reaching beneath the waistband of his boxers to grasp his hard length. I’d never had much opportunity to develop any sort of skill at sex, but I knew what I wanted and enthusiastically went for it. Nicholas seemed totally unaware of my ignorance or any awkwardness. I watched his face carefully as I stroked him with two eager hands, and his eyes closed in pleasure as I intensified my motions. We were moving quickly, too quickly, but slowing down was impossible.

  “I need you,” he moaned, pulling my hands away, “right now.”

  “Yes,” was all I could manage in reply.

  I spread my legs wide and he pushed into me with that same exquisite gentleness he’d shown before. Thankfully his careful restraint didn’t last much longer because I needed to move.

  We rocked together with our eyes wide open, and I felt transfixed by his gaze and the feeling of being fully and completely his. We quickly found a steady rhythm, synchronized by some primal thing that guided us to find exactly the cadence that would bring us the most joy and intimacy. Every shared breath, every thrust, brought us closer to each other, and to the pleasure we were making. Even if this feeling of intimacy was just a lie perpetrated by our hormones in a futile attempt to procreate, it felt real in that moment and we both needed it.

  At the fuzzy, indistinct boundaries of my awareness I could sense the trembling tightness at my core that promised even greater pleasure. I chased toward that goal, pushing harder, moaning louder, and urging Nicholas to give me everything. In response, he grabbed my legs from his hips and grabbed my ankles, pulling them upward and pinning my knees almost to my shoulders. My feet were dangling in the air behind his head and I could barely move. I tipped my head back and took it.