I grunt as my release builds, my hand going faster. A small whimper escapes as I jerk out into the open, away from her. I bend over and let my seed squirt to the ground, away from my clothing. I’m unable to look at her, fearful of what her reaction might be. Once I’m tucked away, I seek her out, but her expression is unreadable. She stops in front of me, careful to walk around the puddle of cum on the ground. She touches my arm gently, but the rest of her is standoffish. As I reach for her she steps away.
“We should go,” she says, heading toward her horse. I don’t know what happened, but I can’t imagine she’s pissed that I didn’t let her give me a blow job. Aren’t most women happy when they aren’t on their knees sucking dick?
With what little self-esteem I have left, I mount my horse and fall in line behind her on the trail. Even with her riding her horse, her ass still sways, mocking me.
Eight
Kimberly
“Daphne?” I yell her name the second I walk into her apartment. She peeks around the corner from her kitchen with a big grin on her face. Daphne lives alone near downtown San Diego. Her apartment is a great escape for me, but I’m rarely here. All her walls are painted ice blue with white accents, very ocean-like, and there always seems to be a cool breeze even though I know it’s not possible considering where we live.
“How was he?”
I blanch at her question and instantly feel my face turning red. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say coyly.
“I can smell BS a mile away when it comes to you, Kimmy. You texted saying you were coming over, and I usually have to beg to get you off the compound. Yet here you are.”
For years Daphne has called Serenity Springs a “compound,” even going as far as to call it a “cult,” but we’re not. Everyone has the freedom to leave if they choose. Including me.
“What makes you think it has anything to do with a guy?” I ask, sitting down on her couch.
“Because I listen when my bestie has issues at two in the morning.”
“It was one,” I mutter, sighing deeply.
Daphne walks into her living room and hands me a cup of cocoa. It’s her fix-all. Her mother and grandmother used to do the same thing when we’d come home with broken hearts.
“Thanks.” I bring the steaming cup close to my face and inhale the chocolaty goodness that awaits me once it cools down. On the coffee table, she’s set a plate of ladyfingers.
“Is he really that gorgeous?”
I nod, reaching for a ladyfinger to dip into my drink.
“And he’s famous?”
This time instead of answering, I dip the ladyfinger into the hot chocolate and eat the softened morsel.
“Like how famous?”
“You know him,” I say, stuffing my face.
“Well, I’ve checked all the tabloids and no one is mysteriously missing or entering rehab, so I guess I’m flying blind.”
“I’m sorry. You know I’d tell you if I could.” I set my cocoa down and curl into her couch. Daphne does the same thing, letting her brown hair fall to the side.
“So was he good?”
I close my eyes, remembering everything that happened between Bodhi and me while we were out on our horseback ride.
“We didn’t sleep together. I’ve only known him for a week, and he’s an addict. Having sex with him would be foolish.”
“Well, you did something, so spill.”
I reach for my drink and wrap my hands around the ceramic mug, blowing into it to cool it down. I sip, letting the hot liquid warm me. It’s far from cold outside, but sometimes you need the old comforts from your childhood to make you feel better about yourself.
“I attacked him, Daph. It was horrible, except it wasn’t. I don’t know. He screams sex, like it oozes from him. We were talking, and then everything changed. There was a shift in him, and I felt like he was on the prowl. The next thing I know, I’m aching, my chest is heaving, and all I can think about is what it’d be like to screw him, so I jumped him, and he was . . .” I blush, recalling the words he said to me. “He’s magic with his words and his fingers.”
“Oh, do tell.” She pulls her legs up underneath her, eager for my story.
“I feel dirty talking about what happened, but Daphne, his fingers were bliss and the stuff he said to me, I thought I was going to come just from his voice alone.”
“Sweet hell, what did he say?” She leans closer to me.
I know I’m blushing, but there isn’t anything I can do about it. My body warms as I remember how his voice sounded. “He said, ‘I want to see your face when my fingers push into your . . .’” I can’t bring myself to repeat his word.
“Your what?” she squeals.
“Cee you next Tuesday,” I mutter with embarrassment, knowing she’ll get my slang.
“Holy fuck, Kim, that’s hot.”
“I know, but I feel so dirty,” I tell her, placing my mug back on the coffee table and mirroring her position on the couch.
“And did you?” she asks, leaning forward.
I cover my face and nod. “I did, and I thought it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or been a part of.”
“But . . . ?” she asks.
I finally look at her. “After he got me off, he stood there in front of me, masturbating, so I could watch him.”
Daphne’s mouth drops open as her eyes go wide. My cheeks continue to burn.
“What did you do next?”
I uncurl myself and stand, pacing around her living room. “This is where I fucked up,” I told her. “I left. I was embarrassed because I had asked to return the favor and he told me no. Don’t get me wrong—watching him pleasure himself was the most erotic thing I have ever witnessed. But the rejection stung. And when the euphoric high wore off, I realized what I had done, and I couldn’t face him. He’s there to recover and I shouldn’t be using him like this.”
“Have you spoken to him about this?”
I shake my head.
“He shouldn’t worry about me, ya know? He needs to focus on his recovery and getting his life back.”
Daphne stands and pulls me into her arms. “Maybe you’re the part of his recovery that he needs.”
I stay with Daphne until the sun is down. I think about staying the night, but I know that there’s a mountain of shit that I have to tackle, and the sooner I do it, the better. If I listen to Daphne, I should go back to Serenity Springs and hump the shit out of Bodhi. Even I know I can’t do something like that, and what did happen between us can’t ever happen again. I can’t compromise his recovery for my personal pleasure.
The drive back to the ranch gives me time to think. As much as I want to test the waters with Bodhi, I can’t. I have never defied my father until I met Bodhi, and I’m not going to continue to do it. Whatever Bodhi and I are feeling, whether it’s for each other or because we’re both lonely, it stops now. It’s not fair to Bodhi to take on another person’s emotions while he’s recovering. And it’s selfish of me to demand that of him.
Nine
Bodhi
Today is family day. I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not much. You’re allowed to call home at any time, with permission, but I have yet to take advantage of that. I watched Susan, the woman from my therapy group, call home once, and it wasn’t pretty. I happened to be cleaning Kim’s office when she came in and asked to use the phone. It was her daughter’s birthday, she said.
I tried not to eavesdrop, but I couldn’t help it. All she wanted to do was talk to her daughter on her birthday, and her husband wouldn’t let her. I could hear him on the other end of the line berating her and calling her names, and all of a sudden I’d had enough. I went over to her, placed one hand on her shoulder, and with the other took the phone and put it down on its cradle. Kim was there to take Susan into her arms and lead her away. No one should be treated like that. Susan’s husband was wrong for saying those things to her, especially since she’s trying to get help. It’s sure funny
that he doesn’t take any responsibility for the role he played in her situation.
Later that day, Kimberly found me and said I did the right thing and that I’m a good friend to Susan. I wanted to tell her that I’m not Susan’s friend, but I didn’t, especially since my plan for today is to sit with Susan and pretend she’s a friend. I think she needs me more than I need her.
The sun is shining and it’s blazing hot. The pond looks tempting, but as I suspected, Susan is sitting on the bench, alone. Family day is going on in the main building and around the therapy area, and I’m staying far away from there. I haven’t called my parents since I arrived and I don’t plan to. I don’t have much to say to them right now.
I sit down next Susan, leaving enough space so as not to crowd her. A quick glance tells me that she’s been crying, and as much as I want to comfort her, I don’t. I sit and stare off into the same open space that she does, wondering what’s going through her mind. She’s been here longer than I have, and I can’t even imagine how she feels knowing that every two weeks her family has an opportunity to come visit her, yet they don’t. It has to be the shittiest feeling in the world.
Every now and again a name is called over the loudspeaker, and if that person is outside, Susan and I watch as they go running to greet their family. It’s like we’re living in some dystopian world and people are running off to be the chosen one.
Family day is an all-day event, concluding at dinnertime. That is how long Susan and I will sit out here, waiting for all the happiness to subside. If I were high, this wouldn’t be a big deal. I could be social and interrupt everyone’s time. Make a fool out of myself and draw some much-needed attention. But instead I’m sitting here with my not-friend because this is better than being social.
“Your family isn’t coming?” Susan is the first to speak. We’ve been sitting here for hours, doing nothing except sharing the same space.
“I don’t know. Probably not. My folks are busy, and the last thing they need to do is come visit their son in rehab.” Even as I say the words, they sting. I should be a priority to them. They should stop what they’re doing and come see me, come make sure I’m okay and not dying in here. Although with my dad knowing Bruce, I’m sure they’ve been in contact.
“I’ve seen your mother’s movies—your father’s as well. I used to love going to the movies. The popcorn was the best.” She stops talking, and I’m not sure if I’m supposed to thank her for seeing their movies or comment on the popcorn. I happen to agree with her about the popcorn. Even in our home screening room, the popcorn isn’t the same as when you get it at the theater.
“My family doesn’t care. I mean, my parents do, but they’re elderly and living in Florida. They don’t have the money to take a trip out here. My husband . . . well, I’m fairly certain he’s seeing someone else and she’s living in my house. I can’t talk to my babies, so they don’t even know how sorry I am.” She covers her mouth as sobs escape. Against my will, I place my arm around her, pull her into my side, and let her cry. I know how to treat a woman better than the way her husband is treating her. Susan gathers herself and sits up, wiping angrily at her face.
“You need to divorce him,” I blurt out. It’s not my place, but if he’s moving on, she’s not left with much of a choice.
“I can’t afford a lawyer. He made the money while I stayed home with the kids. The only reason he’s paying for Serenity Springs is because the judge ordered him to. When I leave here, he won’t be out there waiting for me. I won’t have a home to go to.”
A sudden rush of anger washes over me as I listen to her. This guy is a real piece of work and needs his fucking ass beaten. “I’ll be waiting for you,” I tell her before I realize what I’ve just said. But the words are out now and I can’t take them back. “You can live at my parents’—there’s a two-bedroom apartment that we use as a guest house. You’ll have everything you need. And I’m not kidding when I say you need to divorce him. He needs to be held accountable for his actions, so I’ll pay for your lawyer and we’ll nail his ass to the wall.”
“I can’t let you do that.”
“Why not?” I ask, leaning forward to look at my not-friend, who’s quickly becoming my unfake friend. “I can help. I’ve listened to you in therapy and can honestly say I hate your husband. I know you’ll need a job, and guess what—my dad owns a company, so that’s solved.”
“What will your parents say?”
I laugh because my father is, if anything, respectful to women, and once I tell my mother about Susan, she’ll take her under her wing.
“One thing you should know about my parents, they’re humanitarians and treat everyone equally. Our staff at home get luxury vacations and all these crazy things from my parents. There’s a reason you never see our names in the tabloids because of some tell-all. My parents treat everyone very well.” I leave out the part where they may not be the best parents. Regardless, they’re great people.
“It’s too much. I can’t take it,” she says.
“Take what?”
I turn at the sound of my father’s voice. The sight of him brings tears to my eyes, and I rush over to greet him, stopping short of giving him a hug. He gives me one instead, followed by my mother.
“I miss you so much,” she whispers into my ear, her tears wetting my cheek. I didn’t get to see her before my life spiraled out of control, and I can’t imagine how she took the news.
“I miss you too, Mom,” I say, holding her a bit longer. “Come here—I want you to meet someone.”
I take my mom’s hand and pull her over to the bench where Susan is sitting, wide-eyed. “Mom, this is Susan. She’s a fan.” As much as I want to sit with my mom, I think Susan needs her a bit more than I do right now.
Immediately my mom starts talking to her and tunes me out, just as I had hoped. I motion for my dad to follow me, and he does.
“How are you?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice.
“I’m okay,” I tell him. “The urge is still there, but they’re teaching me ways to cope with it.”
“That’s good. I’ve spoken to Bruce—he’s very impressed with you.”
I’m smiling on the inside, knowing that he’s called to check up on me. It warms me to know that he cares enough to do that. I fill him in on Susan, her situation, and, more important, her husband. Then I drop the bomb, telling him that I invited her to live in the apartment and said I’d get her a lawyer and a job working with my dad.
At first, by the way his face is scrunching up and how he’s running his hands through his hair, I think he’s going to tell me no. He places his hand on my shoulder. “You can’t save everyone here.”
I’m taken aback by his comment. I’ve never saved a soul in my life, so why would he think I’d want to save everyone? Hell, I can barely save myself from self-destruction.
“I’m not trying to, and I didn’t really mean to say anything, but it just came out. Dad, I overheard her husband on the phone—he was horrible. I feel bad for her because his ways led to her addiction, but he blames her.”
“And you say she has children?”
“Two of them. I know one is a girl because it’s her birthday, but I’m not sure about the other one. Plus she was a stay-at-home mom, so her job skills are lacking.”
He nods but otherwise doesn’t say anything. I can’t imagine he’ll tell me no, especially since I’ve already opened my mouth, but I could be wrong. Bringing home an addict isn’t always the best thing to do.
We go back to the bench, where my mom and Susan are in an animated conversation. This is the first time that I’ve seen Susan smile. I imagine before the drugs took over her body, she was probably very pretty. But the drastic weight loss and effects from the meth have taken their toll. She’s rail thin and hardly eats. I imagine she’s depressed too, which probably isn’t helping her situation.
My dad and I linger for a bit, not wanting to interrupt them. When Bruce comes along, my dad disappears with him, l
eaving me to fend for myself. I should be pissed that my mom is paying more attention to Susan than to me, but as I look at my mom and Susan talking, I know it’s a good thing—Susan can probably use it a little more than I can.
I dive into the pond, reveling in the tepid water. It’s warmer than I thought it would be, but still a reprieve from the smoldering heat. I stay under until my lungs burn with desire for air before rising to the surface. The giant gulp of air I need isn’t lost on me as I float on my back to relax. Out of the corner of my eye, the sunset is showcasing an array of colors. The rich reds, oranges, and hints of pink cast an eerie glow over the sky, making it seem magical. For whatever reason, the sky reminds me of Kimberly. Every time I see her I feel better. I feel like I’m not at rehab but at a retreat where I’m learning how to work. She doesn’t treat me like I’m a drug addict or in recovery.
As the sun starts to disappear, I know it’s time to head toward the dock. I haven’t broken a rule yet, aside from finger-banging Kimberly out in the woods, and tonight won’t be any different. I’m so grateful for all the help I’ve been given, and the last thing I want to do is piss off Bruce or Dr. Rosenberg.
I swim a few laps before heading toward the dock. There’s a shadowy silhouette on the dock, and I’m unable to make out who it could be. When I climb up, my question is answered. Kim is standing there with my towel in her hand. The smile grows across my face before I’m even out of the water.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it from her and drying off.
“I heard what you did today.”
I nod, not wanting to go into it. By the time it was all said and done, Susan and my mother had become fast friends, and my mom was none the wiser until my dad filled her in on their way home. I imagine my mom will be back here again to see Susan now that she knows what she’s going through.
Blow Page 7
