Heart Nectar

by Davee Jones

  Sweeping her hands across the fitted sheet, smoothing it against the mattress, Mindie easily pretended it was his gorgeous muscled abdomen she caressed instead of linens. Giggling, her nipples pebbled into small erections of their own sort. “Thank God he’s coming home tonight.” Snapping the top sheet across the mattress, she focused again on the task at hand. Lifting a corner to tuck in the excess, paperwork caught her attention. Skimming some kind of document under the bed with her hand, it almost gave her a paper cut. Before having a chance to process, she pulled the paperwork into her line of vision. “This isn’t my business.” Invading his privacy didn’t matter. She couldn’t stop reading the front header- Heart Nectar emboldened across the top in bold black font.

  What the hell?

  Manners fell to the wayside when her company was involved. Apparently, his interests in her weren’t fully explained. What proved to be a contract explained line by line how this mysterious investor was somehow tied to George Stansfield. Why else would he have an almost exact copy of the same one she had on file in her business office? The same contract she used to begin the business expansion, the one she couldn’t get out of now. Their deal was signed, sealed, delivered, and a kind of dishonest she couldn’t fight in court. She agreed to never know the identity of the investor. Lust blinded her common sense, how could she have been so damn stupid? Trust crumbled into a pile of dust in the middle of the camper trailer floor. No wonder he had a place on wheels, he could take it anywhere. He might need the home for his next shady business deal. He probably didn’t even buy the property it was sitting on, some kind of corporate camping lease. Those dang oil field people did it all the time, moving around, breaking hearts. Just like a roughneck, George didn’t really plan on staying. He was there while the getting was good. And, boy, was he getting it good, at least the best she had to offer.

  What a prick. Lying sack of dog shit prick, that’s what he was.

  Pacing the small path of space, Mindie’s guts churned angrily, adding nausea to the equation. Cheating had to feel like this, lowly and dreadful. Running away looked more and more appealing, yet, she wanted to confront his lying face as fast as she could. He just had to get his fingers in her business, her life, her…everything. All the food remained in bags, the beer warmed, and her heart froze in her chest. What the fuck was she gonna do? Not move a damn muscle, that’s what she was gonna do.

  George found Mindie sitting stock still. In her hands was the contract paperwork she’d found under the mattress. The light thru the windows dimmed to early evening summer splendor- a beautiful night for making love, ruined by words on paper. Dried tears appeared as snail trails down her cheeks, transparent, yet glossy, running tracks through her makeup.

  “Oh, no, dear Jesus, I can explain.”

  Mindie slowly blinked, mechanically her head turned, as if on a wooden spindle. A female Pinocchio, her emotions woody to match her insides, she’d numbed that much over those long agonizing minutes until he showed up. “I’m fairly certain Jesus doesn’t condone lying. What’s to explain? This is pretty fucking clear in black and white.”

  “I'd never do anything completely deceitful to you.” George kept looking at Mindie, his eyes pleading, asking for chances to be her everything. “My intentions continue to be pure. Everything is on the level.” Combining corporate concerns and matters of the heart became more difficult than any other business deal he’d ever negotiated. He stood more to lose from his heart than any dollar amount could ever best. Truth be told, George would choose to lose millions rather than to lose Mindie. “I get nothing, no matter how well your business thrives, on the other hand, any losses, I foot that bill. It’s all in the contract.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Stupid question, her reaction, this situation, everything told her why. How could she ignore the sincerity of his love coming through each motion of body language? “Well, I mean, I know why you didn’t tell me, but, I’m still not sure how to take it. This is fucking devious.” How many times could she say fuck before the sentence emphasizer lost its sense of importance?

  “I only wanted an honest beginning, nothing complicated, no strings, no reason for you to doubt my feelings for you have nothing to do with business. I’m asking you to trust me, no matter how difficult it may be.”

  Staring at a spot on the floor, she refused to look into his eyes. A slice of her resolve disappeared when she gazed into his beautiful stare, especially when his penetrating gaze made it through to her heart. Keeping on topic became a drunken dance of walking some unnecessary line- a test of inner truth. “Fuck you…I…I really don’t know what to say. Honest went out the window when you pretended not to be part of the investment deal you sent our way.”

  “What does it hurt to give us time? I’m asking you, actually pleading, you give us time to live through this experience. I want your opportunity- all you need to do is say yes. I’ll change your world in amazing ways.” Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead, lips tender against her heated skin- so close to a headache, yet he brushed the pain away. How could he be a remedy to so many parts of her life? Would she take the plunge? This headfirst, complete submission might define the rest of her existence.

  Burning betrayal surged over any struggling sense of weakness. Wavering strength between intellect and the heart clashed swords inside her soul. The clang of steel blades crossing in battle rang within her mind, searing her eardrums giving her an instant headache. “Fuck you!” She had to get out of there, he was going to destroy what little intelligence she had left. She’d start babbling random bullshit, making their conversation go nowhere but the bed- still teasing her as the hiding place of their destruction. Stumbling, she shoved past George, pushing him against the table. “I’m outta here.”

  “Wait, Mindie, please, can we just take a minute to relax and regroup?”

  “I’m going where I can relax, this place fucking sucks balls.” Her nasty vocabulary would make Nixie proud. Where was the best friend when she needed her so desperately? Fuck this man, fuck this man…she didn’t want to fuck this man. So, who was telling her pulsing pussy he wasn’t actually welcome in there? Her brain would overrule her body this time. “Don’t fucking follow me either.”

  Making it to her car, on autopilot she made it back to the winery, not even remembering the trip.

  ****

  “So, our mystery investor is none other than your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend.” Words became heated missiles sizzling and hissing from Mindie’s lips.

  “He’s been inside you, so, that’s more than a friend.” Nixie refilled their coffee mugs, adding a splash of Irish cream to both their morning beverages.

  Not even noticing the early morning alcohol, Mindie took a large gulp. “Give me a break. Sex means nothing, he was a fucking booty call, that’s it.”

  “C’mon, George is more than a fucking booty call. Fuck isn’t your word. Anyway, why are you saying it so much now? I think he got under your skin. Matter of fact, he’s still under your skin. You wouldn’t say those expletives except in cases of high emotional involvement.”

  “I’ll admit it hurts and I’m disappointed. He lied to me. I have no idea what his true intentions are.”

  “Can you stop and accept the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he was telling you the truth? Maybe he wanted to help us, but, knowing you didn’t want to mix business and pleasure, he made a way around it.”

  “The making a way around it is the part that bugs me the most. He should’ve just told me.”

  Nixie sat the coffee mug on the table in front of her. “Tell me, honestly, would that have made a damn bit of difference?” She held up one hand in a stop motion. “I’ll answer that. No, it wouldn’t have made a difference, you still would’ve said no to one or the other. Your stubborn pride wouldn’t allow for both.”

  “That’s a shitty thing to say to me. I’m looking out for us…hoping our business grows. I think mixing business and romance is a mistake.”


  “We’ve mixed business and friendship and it’s going great. There are plenty of couples in business together. Just because we aren’t having sex doesn’t mean you and I aren’t involved. Adding a silent financial backer wasn’t going to change day to day operations.”

  “Why are you taking up for him? I’m your best friend, you asshole. He’s nothing, nada in the scope of things for us. I can’t believe you’re defending him.”

  “I’m not necessarily defending him- I’m pointing out obvious facts.”

  “The only thing obvious here is my best friend cavorting with the enemy.”

  “The enemy? Now George Stansfield is the enemy? His brother, the prick, Charles Stansfield is an enemy. I don’t think I have to point out the clear traits making him the enemy. None of which said traits does George exhibit. Are you so dense you can’t tell the difference between a prick and a non-prick?”

  “Don’t call me dense, you ass.” Nixie was crossing a line, clearly defending George when I was her best friend.

  “Maybe I am an ass, but, I’m not throwing away a great relationship over some pride issues and what ifs. This guy bent over backwards, accepting all liabilities and still giving us all benefits. Well, except he gets the benefit of you, a relationship with you out of the deal.” Nixie bobbed her head side to side a few times. “Yeah, you’re right, this guy is clearly an idiot.” Finally, sarcasm peppered her sentence with some usual spicy flavor. “Would you stop being so hard headed and talk with George? I know you love him, stop trying to pretend you don’t. You’re a horrible actress.”

  She’d never been able to lie, not successfully anyway. Anything that mattered to Mindie revealed itself in her every mannerism- the way her eyes reacted in delight or distaste were unmistakable. Even the tone in her voice could contradict the truth when her mismatched words came forth. Draining the rest of the room-temperature coffee, she stood up. “I’m going to my happy place.”

  “George’s heavenly camp on the hill?”

  “No, not that happy place.”

  “Ahh, okay, you’re going to the vines.” Waving her hands above her head in some yogi or belly-dancing gesture, Nixie gestured Mindie toward the door. “Go be at one with nature and all that new age mumbo jumbo. Get your thoughts straight and then go see your man before you talk yourself into some stupid nonsense again.”

  “We do have much to be thankful for, don’t we?” The first smile Mindie had all day was full of promise and relief.

  “Drama queen.” Nixie refilled her coffee, leaving out the Irish cream this time. “Someone has to be responsible today, and we both know it ain’t you.”

  ****

  Among the young vines, Mindie relaxed into the feeling of new possibilities, brought to life by the fresh grape leaves twirling and reaching toward the sun. In many ways, she felt like one of those new shoots, reaching forward to a new life filled with more than she’d asked for. Love had found her, in happy ribbons wrapping around her heart, bow tied to her soul, reassuring her mind of the goodness two people could share. Choosing to let go and compromise became her goal. Deciding to discuss further with George, a weight lifted from her heart. The bright morning sun warmed her skin, comforting her body with promises of happy opportunities and soothing securities. Nature rejuvenated a seed of doubt into full grown determination, a priceless maturity she treasured, but more importantly, required. Unrolling the yoga mat in a patch of dirt between the rows draped in sunshine, Mindie readied her awareness for a much needed recharge. George’s beautiful, chiseled face ventured into her imagination, firing her heart rate with rapid joyful jolts of excitement. Taking in a deep breath, she emptied her thoughts and stilled her rapid imagination, more at peace than she’d been in a year full of yoga practices.

  Sun salutations, her arms extended skyward, Mindie gave thanks for her life’s accomplishments. Even if her life remained at this particular level of the game, she could be content, surrounded by loving family, friends, and a business she’d built making her a comfortable income. Swooping down, her arms elegantly floating to the ground in the swan dive, Mindie exhaled negativity from her lungs, ridding herself from any trifling, residual mind-grip. Her nose met her knees, stretching out the muscles that had been knotted for the better part of the past twelve plus hours. The wind rustled across and through the greenery, bees buzzed looking for blooms, and birds chirped in the distance, a natural symphony keeping her pace synchronized. Slowly repeating the trio of movements, Mindie wriggled out tension from the last lingering hidden places in her physical form and consciousness. Uncounted minutes strolled over the clock, the sun moving ever so slightly to the tick of seconds passing.

  Birds suddenly flew over her head, frightened from their perches among the foliage away from the rows of vines, disrupting the outdoorsy kind of silence. “There you are.” The rugged familiar voice had an unlikely edge to the normally buttery soft quality.

  “Here I am.” Startled when footsteps didn’t register in the soft rows of dirt, she froze. Dangling in a forward fold, Mindie bend stiffened, pressing closer to her knees, caught off guard by his arrival. She’d planned to visit him later that day, but, needed to find her words before she offered the olive branch.

  “I’d like to…talk to you.” Again, the innocent words contained a mixed message, alerting her fight or flight reflex. Mindie didn’t want to argue about the contract, she wanted to accept the offer, just as George wanted.

  “I was hasty last night.” Finally standing upright, she kept her back to him until she could exhale and coordinate the next sentence. “I want to talk too.”

  Arms wrapped around her more in a death grip than something loving. “Do you want to fuck too? Cause that’s really more important right now.” This wasn’t George. This was Charles, his breath containing sour remnants of a long wine-filled binge.

  “What are you doing here? I thought you got the message last time.” Help, somebody help me from this crazy psychotic. Mindie’s eyes panned the area rapidly, looking for another human being. No one was to be found.

  “No one sends me a message, little girl. I give the orders.” His fingers burrowed in between the tendons connecting her tightened muscles, bruising the sensitive skin rapidly. “You’re out here all alone and I won’t need but a few minutes to get my point across.”

  Nausea rushed through her guts again, while clammy sweat covered her skin and pooled on her lower back. Fear stole her voice, preventing even a primal scream. Her mouth desperately opened and closed, searching for the necessary air to force noise from her throat. “Please stop…” Croaking a plea, she knew it was hopeless. What was the point of asking?

  “You sound so sweet, your words so soft. Mmm, you turn me on, you know that?”

  “No, no, I don’t.” Her mouth dry, her salivary glands stopped production. Coughing the words out, Mindie’s tongue swelled behind her teeth.

  “Yes, yes, you do.” Charles mocked, squeezing her arms tighter, holding them hostage at her sides. Leaning in behind her, he nuzzled his nose in her bundled hair. “Smells like cinnamon…fresh coffee…and…what’s that…oh, yes…panic.” Pressing his erection against her back, Charles conveyed his complete arousal, fueled greatly by her terror. “I won’t be here long. I’ll disappear where your pathetic boyfriend won’t find me.”

  Anger replaced a portion of her fear, giving her voice a boost. “You mean your brother.” He really believed he could rape her and get away with it. She had to get a grip and a strategy in a quick fast hurry.

  “Brother…pathetic they mean the same thing, he’s weak and pointless.”

  “You’re really a piece of shit, you know?” Poking the bear was a stupid move, Mindie, you’re such an idiot, Nixie was right. What if he killed you now?

  “I’ve been called worse by people much more important than you. I don’t give two fucks or shits what you or anyone else thinks.” Even tone, chilled words, Charles had absolutely zero compassion down to his core. Tightening his grip on her arms, h
e wrestled her into a better hold. “I’m gonna break that cherry in your ass. I forgot the lube, guess you better get ready for me somehow.”

  Coffee and Irish cream churned in her esophagus, thrusting upward like a baking soda and vinegar science experiment. Him anywhere in her body triggered involuntary revolt of her fleshly functions, almost making her pee her pants while she puked. Spewing frothy, brown liquid across the air, nothing stopped the projectile stream spraying an incredible distance away from them, hitting some innocent green leaves. This was her God damned happy place, why the fuck was this happening? Life was finally going great. This shit was like smashing the only light bulb in the darkest of tunnels. Her day became a cruel joke of universal proportions. If she’d stayed at George’s place…let him explain…she could still be there now, not here, in the clutches of his sociopath brother. It was all her fault.

  “I’m not kissing you, I don’t give a fuck that you puked. I’m still gonna stick my dick inside you, over and over again.”

  The sky spun wildly in her circles of vision, her brain muddled from dread and physical sickness. She knew what was coming, just like as a child when the doctor came at you with a needle. You knew it was inevitable, but, tried to squirm away from the tight grip of a blasé nurse anyway. She got those shots as a kid and it hurt for days. From the jab into her skin to the medicine sting flowing unmercifully. This would be worse, so much worse, she’d feel the results the rest of her life. Charles had a needle to penetrate her, just as cold as the steel of a medical hypodermic. Boogey men and needles scared her as a kid, now, she had both coming at her, in the form of one evil entity. Her knees buckled, she struggled against him, but, fell anyway, landing across the yoga mat, her face in the dirt. Writhing and fighting, she tried to free one or both of her arms from his hard grip. Holding her chicken wing style, he tugged both wrists further back, against her frantic pulling away. He loosened just enough, she tugged upward just the right way…snap…her wrist went limp in his hand.