by Megan Hart
“Creative,” I managed to say. “My parents and their friends were creative.”
“They named you Tesla,” Charlie said. “I’d have guessed that.”
I laughed. “Yeah, after Nikola Tesla, not the heavy metal band.”
“What?” Meredith looked up from her crème brûlée. “I thought it was for the band.”
“Nope. Nikola Tesla, the father of commercial electricity.” I lifted my fork, heavy with the weight of chocolate and cream. “But I got off okay. I have a brother named Captain, and you’ll never guess who he was named for.”
“Captain America,” Charlie said.
“He wishes. No. Captain Ahab.” I snorted laughter, shaking my head. “He goes by Cap. And you can’t ask him about his name—he’ll deny it. He’ll answer to Captain, but he’ll never tell you about the Ahab bit. He thinks our parents were morons.”
“Wow. So this compound place. It was full of what, hippies?” Charlie poured more hot water from the small pot over the teabag in my mug. He and I were drinking tea; Meredith had coffee.
“Old hippies. The worst kind. Some of them who’d have been hippies if they’d been old enough in the sixties, but instead sort of had to live out their fantasies during summer break.” I paused. It had come out sounding more bitter than I’d intended. “They grew their own food. Lived communally, mutual finances, the works—at least during those three months.”
I didn’t mention the other communal living, the crèches where the babies and toddlers lived, cared for by whatever set of adults had drawn the duty for that day. The coed dorms for the teens, where we were encouraged to “explore” ourselves…and each other…in ways most parents were actively trying to restrict. Drugs and booze, nothing hard-core. Beer and weed, mostly. I didn’t mention the way the adults lived, either. Forming pairs and clusters regardless of the legality of marriages. They didn’t call it swinging. They called it “free living.”
“Sounds fascinating,” Charlie said.
“Told you!” Meredith waved her fork in the air.
When I was younger I thought it was amazing, like the summer camps a lot of my friends talked about, though my parents had always made it very clear we weren’t supposed to talk about the stuff that went on there. What we did on our summer vacations was filed under “stuff we only talk about at home.” And as a matter of fact, we didn’t really even talk about The Compound when we were at home.
Every fall, after three months of indulgence and orgies and who knew what else had gone on, my parents packed up me and Cap and took us back to our suburban development with the fenced-in yard of mostly green grass, the television, our socks and shoes. Hell, our clothes in general, which was always quite a shock after The Compound’s lax policy on clothing. We’d spend the winter doing the stuff every family seemed to, but come the end of school in the spring, I could see my parents getting edgy.
This wasn’t always a bad thing; anticipation of the summer ahead made my dad laugh more, leave off the lectures he was prone to give on behavior and grades and the expectations of society, and how we should (or shouldn’t) conform. With my mom it could go either way. She could either be slightly manic, packing up the house and singing while she worked, or she could snap and scream at the least provocation that she had “too much to do and not enough time to do it!” Later, I’d figure out it was because my mom didn’t love The Compound the way my dad did, and that she had very valid reasons. But back then all I knew was that our lives changed every summer in ways none of my friends’ ever did.
When I was still older I’d watch The Howling at a friend’s Halloween party. While everyone else was jumping and screaming at the scary bits, I was consumed by the atmosphere of the place in the mountains the lady reporter goes to—The Colony. Okay, so The Compound didn’t have shape-shifters, but it did have wolves in human clothes. Worse than the dude digging that bullet out of his brain or the lady reporter turning into that cute little kitty-wolf at the end.
Nothing bad had happened to me at The Compound. Nothing to scar me, nothing I’d need therapy for. It had happened around me, before and after me, but not to me.
I shrugged. “It was definitely not the sort of childhood you see in Disney movies.”
“Well, who the fuck has one of those?” Meredith shrugged and licked her fork. “I mean, even Bambi’s mom got shot by a hunter.”
“Shortly after my last summer there, The Compound was raided. Big drug bust. A couple people died.”
This stopped them both. I hadn’t meant to say it, especially not on this, our first date. But it had come out anyway, and I couldn’t be sure why.
“Mary Jane?” Meredith asked, perking up.
I shook my head. “Poppies.”
She looked confused, but Charlie let out a low chuckle. “Heroin?”
“Opium,” I said. “You can harvest it from the flowers and smoke it in that pure state without doing anything to it.”
Meredith shook her head. “Opium? Who smokes that?”
“Apparently,” I said drily, “wannabe hippies who want something a little stronger than marijuana.”
“Wow.” Charlie leaned forward a little. “How did that affect you?”
It was a kind question. But before I could tell him that I hadn’t been affected at all, that though I knew about the gardens with the flowers, I hadn’t even been at The Compound when the raid happened, Meredith interrupted.
“What’s it like?” she asked, leaning even closer than Charlie had. “Opium, I mean.”
I had to laugh. “Umm…I don’t know. I never smoked it.”
She looked disappointed. The conversation turned to other things, Meredith mostly leading it, but I caught Charlie gazing at me now and then. He didn’t glance away when I caught him. Neither did I.
By the end of the night, I’d figured out this was one of the nicest dates I’d ever had, no matter how unconventional. Maybe that was what I liked about it. The fact that there were two of them. With their attention on me.
Like Chase and Chance, Meredith and Charlie were a unit. Husband and wife, but more than that. Clearly friends. Comfortable enough with each other to know in advance where to laugh at the jokes, or to pass the cream and sugar without being asked. Yet also like those boys from my past, they were individuals, clearly told apart.
In the parking lot, I waited for them to ask me if I wanted to go home with them. I could see the question in Meredith’s eyes, though I didn’t know Charlie quite well enough to read his. I put a hand on the handle of my car door, pausing coyly, giving one or both of them the opportunity to make the offer.
I still wasn’t sure what I’d say.
“This was great, Tesla.” Charlie moved forward first.
I tipped my face, but instead of kissing my lips, his mouth brushed my cheek. His hand squeezed briefly on my hip, then withdrew. He took two steps back. I might’ve been embarrassed that I’d offered a lover’s kiss and been granted one from a friend, except that nothing about Charlie ever felt like it could make me embarrassed.
That was when I knew that when the time came, I was definitely going to say yes.
Chapter 16
At four in the morning it’s hard to be perky even if you’re a morning person, which I’ve never been. Some people I knew would just be rolling in to bed—my brother, for example, might even have still been out and about. I, on the other hand, had to get to the Mocha by five so I could open at six. There could be a riot if those doors didn’t open on time.
When I came upstairs, the dark form huddled at the kitchen table startled me into a terrified squeak. I stumbled back, barely keeping myself from tumbling down the stairs again by grabbing the edge of the door frame. For several agonizing seconds my heels hovered in empty space. This is it, I thought, strangely calm. Look out below, I’m gonna eat it.
But then I managed to right myself, overcorrect and trip forward over my feet. I dropped my purse, spilling the mess inside all over the linoleum. I knocked into the round ta
ble hard enough to shift it.
“Nice,” said the voice I knew, even if darkness obscured the face it was coming out of.
“Dammit, Vic! You scared the shit out of me!” I put a hand on my heart, the other on the back of a chair. I really thought I just might faint before I forced myself to breathe. Shakily, I went to the sink to draw a glass of water.
I didn’t want to ask him why he was sitting there in the dark. Like a coward, I didn’t want to talk with him about it, and that wasn’t fair. Vic had done his share of being my shoulder. If he needed someone to listen to him, I of all people shouldn’t forsake him.
“Sorry,” he said quietly. He got up, went to the fridge, pulled out a beer. He didn’t crack the top. Just tapped it a few times before rolling it between his palms.
I could see this because my eyes had adjusted to the dim light. I turned, leaning against the counter, and drank my water. I’d be drinking coffee or tea all day long at work, and wanted to get something else in my system. Still, it was too early for beer, even for me.
“You’re up early,” I said. “Or maybe it’s late.”
“Max had a nightmare about half an hour ago. Got up with him so Elaine could sleep. Couldn’t get back to sleep myself.”
“Ah.” There wasn’t much more to say about it than that, but I tried. “Warm milk?”
This got a laugh from him, which was good. “Um, no. Gross.”
“I have to get to work. But…” I drifted closer to let my hand squeeze his shoulder, just once. Once was always more than enough with him. “You okay? You need…something?”
He looked up at me. The square of glass over the sink had lightened. Day was coming. I could see the faint outline of his eyebrows, the bridge of his nose and shadow of his mouth. I loved this man in complicated ways neither of us understood and probably never would. But for now, all I could offer him was the squeeze of my hand.
“No. No, I’m good. Hey,” Vic said too casually, so my chin went up immediately, my shoulders squared in preparation. “How was your date?”
“Fantastic,” I told him, without even pretending not to grin like a fiend. “Best I’ve had in a long time.”
Vic’s brows rose. “Huh. Really.”
“Yes. It was awesome.” I punched the air, one-two. Did a little dance, my Chucks scuffling on the worn linoleum. “Awesome.”
Vic let out a low chuckle. “Okay. Well. Good. What’s his name again?”
I saw right through that one, but told him anyway. “Charlie.”
“Charlie what?”
“Stone,” I said, after half a second.
“Charlie Stone. I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Jesus, Vic,” I sighed. “Don’t Google him. Please? Leave the cyber-stalking to me.”
“Everyone Googles, Tesla.”
I held up a hand. “Vic, I swear to you…”
He laughed then, a real one, loud enough to wake the kids if he wasn’t careful. “You’re so easy to get riled up.”
I punched him in the biceps. Hard. “Shut up. Jerk.”
From upstairs came the creak of floorboards and the murmur of voices. If we were going to get out of here without being swarmed by Vic’s children, we had to leave now. We shared a glance, both of us thinking it at the same time and sharing a guilty grin in the gray light of dawn. He grabbed his keys. I took my purse. We were out the back door and heading for the alley, giggling like lunatics as we leaped the concrete back steps and hit the sidewalk.
He reached his car first. I got to mine a minute later. We raised our keys at each other in a mutual salute that made me laugh.
He was totally going to Google Charlie.
Chapter 17
They took me to the movies next, Meredith and Charlie. He sat between us and passed the popcorn we all shared. It was a romantic comedy, one of those movies with half a dozen subplots that somehow all tie up together at the end. I’m sure it was funny and sweet and romantic and possibly even sexy, but I was so distracted by the shift of Charlie’s thigh against me, the brush of his fingers on mine in the popcorn bucket, I couldn’t have even said who was in the film, much less how it ended. There was something I did know by the time the final credits rolled.
I wanted him.
I wanted to know if he tasted as good as he smelled. How he kissed. I wanted to know how big his cock was, if it was as pretty as the rest of him. What he could do with those strong hands.
They were practically offering me Charlie on a platter. No worries about if he liked me or not. What he’d want from me…or not. Sure, there were plenty of worst-case scenarios I could think up if I were the sort to spend a lot of time brooding about what-ifs and might’ve-beens. But that was my brother’s schtick, not mine.
In the parking lot, Meredith linked her arm through mine and tugged me close, to say into my ear, “So…?”
Charlie had gone ahead of us when we’d lingered in the bathroom. He was in their car, the overhead light on, looking at something on his phone. I liked the way the light slanted over him. I liked that he had a fancy phone. I liked that he’d worn a shirt with buttons and a vest with jeans and a thick black belt to go to the movies, and I liked the way his hair was short enough to stay out of his eyes.
“So…what?” I said, just to tease.
Her grip tightened on me a little, and she turned me to face her. “So, do you want to come back to our house with us?”
She must’ve seen something in my face I didn’t even know was there, because a shadow passed over hers. Meredith pulled me a little closer, and for one breathtaking moment I thought she meant to kiss me. But she just leaned in to whisper into my ear, “I don’t want to force you.”
I breathed in her perfume, and as always, it sent tendrils of arousal all through me. “I’m not forcible. Don’t you know that by now?”
Her laugh moved over me. “So come on. Come with us.”
And I did.
* * *
It was sweet, Charlie’s hesitation. I’d forgotten he’d met me only twice, that the easy friendship I’d built up with his wife had grown during months of chatting over coffee. It was sweet and simple the way he waited for me to make the first move.
Actually, it was Meredith who made it. She put a hand on the small of my back, urging me forward inch by inch until Charlie and I stood face-to-face. I’d worn heels for this date, and their height put me closer to eye level with him. Mouth level, too.
“Tesla,” she said. “Meet Charlie. Charlie, Tesla.”
His lips curved into a smile and he drew in a breath that lifted his shoulders. “Hi.”
“Hi, Charlie.” With Meredith behind me I could smell the scent of her perfume and feel the heat of her hand, but it was only her husband’s face I could see.
His gaze flickered past me, over my shoulder, and whatever he saw there must’ve given him some courage, because he put a hand on my hip. We moved a little closer. I slid my hands up the front of his shirt.
Neither of us moved.
Not until the pressure of Meredith’s hand on me moved me toward him. My head angled. I was already opening my mouth when I kissed him. His hand tightened on my hip, and Meredith, perhaps feeling her job had been done, let go.
Then it was just the two of us, spinning in the magic of a first kiss.
It didn’t last long, and he was the one who broke it with a small sigh. His eyes were still closed when he pulled slightly away. Under my palm I felt the hard and sudden beat of his heart, the subtle tremor of his muscles. I didn’t want him to be afraid.
I slid my thigh between his, pressing upward just enough to make him give another sigh. I kissed him again. I moved one hand to the back of his neck, where his hair wasn’t long enough to sink my fingers into. I kissed him hard, then harder, and this time I was the one to break it. To pull away. And this time, Charlie’s eyes were open when I did.
“We should go upstairs,” Meredith murmured from behind me, her heat against my back, though she was no longer touching me.
“C’mon, baby. Let’s take Tesla to bed.”
Upstairs, she pushed open the door to their bedroom. It smelled like her. The four-poster bed was huge and made up as though it were going to be photographed for a decorating magazine. Smooth, elegant comforter in shades of pale green and gold, a mountain of matching pillows.
It struck me then, what this meant. Asking me to fuck her husband was one thing, but to do it here in the bed they shared somehow made this all more important and intimate. And I stuttered at that intimacy, though Meredith was murmuring low, encouraging words and Charlie was holding back to let me walk ahead of him into the room.
I stopped halfway to their bed and looked back at the doorway, where he lingered. My shoes had left marks in the thick, cream-colored carpet that had obviously never suffered the presence of a child or even a pet. It still bore the crosshatch marks of a recent vacuuming, unmarred by anything but the trail of my steps.
Meredith had been the one worried about forcing me, but Charlie was the one who seemed to notice something was wrong. “Tesla?”
I gave myself a little shake and looked at both of them. “I’m just…this is…”
In three long strides, he crossed the room. He put his hands on my upper arms, his eyes searching mine. Charlie wasn’t smiling, and somehow that made it easier. That he didn’t seem to be taking this lightly.
He kissed me. Long, sweet, slow. Kind. His hand came up to cup the back of my head, and when we both pulled away, I was breathless from it. Somehow we’d moved to press against each other, his hand on my ass holding me to his crotch, where I felt the totally shiver-making thickness of his cock through his jeans.
“Your mouth tastes so good,” Charlie said, never moving his gaze from mine. “Can I taste the rest of you, too?”
I nodded, incapable of words with my mouth gone so dry. I found my voice enough to sigh when he slid slowly to his knees in front of me, his hands resting lightly on the backs of my knees where my skin dimpled. He looked up at me, those blue eyes still so serious, but then his mouth quirked. Just on one side. And he closed his eyes when he turned his face to kiss my bare thigh just below the hem of my skirt.
