by L. B. Dunbar
“Perkins,” she said softly with concern.
“Guinevere lost a baby. I didn’t even know she was pregnant.” I stood and walked away from her, entering my bedroom. I didn’t close the door to shut her out, but I didn’t invite her in either. She could see me where I sat slumped down on the edge of the bed. I leaned forward and balanced my elbows on my knees, clasping my hands together. It was a mistake to bring her here. She wasn’t what I needed. She was a reminder of what I’d done.
I was about to offer to return her to the shelter when she stood up and came to me in my room. She had already removed her large army jacket. She wore ripped knee jeans with her boots and a plain white t-shirt, similar to the one from weeks ago. She held out her hand to me. I looked up at her gray eyes in confusion, but I reached up to accept. She entwined her delicate fingers through mine and I couldn’t help myself. I pulled our clasped hands to my lips and kissed her knuckles. She released me and knelt before me to remove my boots. My heart beat rapidly, feeling too tight under my skin, as she silently took control of me. After tugging off my socks, she stood again and reached for the hem of my t-shirt, awkwardly pulling it over my head before pushing me back onto the large bed.
Blinking several times, I kept my dark gaze on her shaky movements. Hands landed on my abs and she rubbed upward, dragging them lazily over my chest. She stared down at my massive tattoo newly exposed to her. A giant shield with a red cross covered my heart, while chainmail cascaded upward and over my left shoulder to the cusp of my bicep.
“Why do you have this?”
“I wanted a tattoo,” I said shortly.
“Why this one?”
“It’s to shield my heart,” I breathed, as her delicate fingers traced the cross over my heart then outlined the shield. My skin prickled and sparked at her touch. I ached for her. I ached for something I had never had with a woman because I had waited for her.
Slowly, she lowered her body over mine, dragging over me, pausing for a moment while she straddled me. Heart racing, I knew she could tell my body was responding to her closeness. The pulse in my neck thumped loudly in my ears from nerves. She was too close.
“Want to talk more about your day?”
“Not really.”
“Did something else happen with the band?” she asked in that soft voice.
“I don’t really want to discuss it,” I sighed, raising my dark eyes to the ceiling behind her head.
She slipped her body down mine, sliding her hands over my shoulders, and lowered her upper body to rest against my chest. I turned us so we were face to face on our sides and she snuggled closer to me. I skimmed my hand over her stomach, and she shivered, but didn’t wince like weeks ago.
“Stomach ache still?”
“Not exactly.”
Grunting, I slipped my arm over her hip and laid flat my palm on her lower back. Taking a risk, I pulled up the back of her t-shirt. I wanted more skin-to-skin contact. The sound of her breath being sucked in made me instantly harder. Her bare skin under my hand singed my flesh. A warm burn spread through me, leading the electric bolt to my lifeline. My jeans were too snug. My body too wired as I spread her legs to allow my knee between hers. The move was too much. I was full to burst.
“I need a shower,” I said, sitting upright and swinging off the bed. Not looking over my shoulder, I took three large steps to exit my room and entered the bathroom. I balanced my large frame on the edge of the sink, while the water heated. The room filled with steam, but my mind didn’t clear. I was full of thoughts of her. I wanted to continue to remove her shirt and feel all her skin, to touch her stomach and her curvaceous breasts beneath the snug white t-shirt. Skintight jeans left little to my imagination of her rounded hips, and I wanted to pull them close to me. Teasing me, she had straddled my body, and I imagined her riding me instead. Again, it was all a fantasy, as I knew nothing of what it would feel like to be inside a woman. I only knew it had to be better than being inside my hand, as I slid in my own palm to find the release I would need to spend another night with her.
The call continued…
[Hollister]
I was surprised when he contacted me. It had been a little over two weeks since the incident in his home, where he proved to me he had skill as a hands-free lover, and I proved to him I was a wanton groupie. I was ashamed at my behavior, and I sensed he was disappointed in me, as well, that night. I acted like any other woman would have behaved if Perkins Vale told them to get off for him.
At first, I admonished him that after he got what he wanted; he didn’t want me. Until I reflected on the fact that he hadn’t received a single thing from me that night. I had done all the taking. I was the one who displayed desire. I was the one relieved and then ached for more from him. He never touched me. He didn’t accept my touch in return.
He rarely responded to my numerous texts. I embarrassed myself, more than once, as I checked my phone, being caught occasionally by Marie. He was courteous and polite when he responded once a day, but he didn’t invite me to see him again. I told myself it didn’t matter. I told myself I was only checking up on him, like I was doing on that first day. I told myself these things to prevent full disclosure.
I missed him.
I had been having vivid dreams again. I wanted to say that meeting Perk had ignited those dreams, but I knew that wasn’t true. They were always there haunting me. The nights he held me, though, I slept in a peacefulness I didn’t know existed, until I wasn’t sleeping with him again. I felt a safety I had never known before in Perk’s arms. Somehow, I had lost that protection almost as immediately as I found it.
When he asked if he could see me, I didn’t want to seem eager, but I was. I warned myself that I was only accepting because I wanted to visually see that he was doing okay. I had my confirmation that he was anything but fine when he picked me up in his Cadillac SUV. He looked tired, with circles under his chocolate eyes, and his face seemed pinched in concentration. He appeared relieved when I agreed that take-out Chinese at his place would be a good dinner.
After his confession of the fight, I could see that he was distraught and conflicted. He did want to talk, but I recognized this process of denial. I wanted to comfort him, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want to offer the practiced lines I could repeat by rote to the troubled women who entered the shelter. Perkins wasn’t one of them. I wanted to comfort him in the only way I knew how: with my body. Selfishly, I hoped he could comfort me as well, that we could share the experience.
I didn’t understand when he rushed off; I was beginning to think he preferred himself to me. It seemed like utter nonsense, and yet, he was in the shower again. He came out in only a towel, his shorn head glistening, the stubble on his face moist. His chest was on display for me, like it had been moments ago when I removed his t-shirt. I wanted to smother myself with him and investigate each part of his body, but I sensed his distance. I watched as he walked into his closet and returned in a pair of track pants. He still wore no shirt and slid back onto the bed, as if nothing had happened. As if he didn’t just jump up from these sheets and bury himself in the shower for ten minutes. He lay on his back and stared at the ceiling.
“Why do you do that?” I asked, fully curious to his response.
He chewed his lips for a moment before he responded.
“I…” He stopped and continued to glare at the ceiling. He opened his mouth like he was about to speak and then closed his lips. He was hesitant. When he spoke, I sensed it wasn’t what he planned to originally say.
“For so long, I’ve been focused. Driven even. One goal in mind. And I destroyed everything for it.”
I was puzzled.
“What goal?”
He rolled his head to look at me.
“I just wanted to keep my promise. I wanted to come back for you.”
I didn’t know what to say. It couldn’t be true.
“You…you can’t be…I...I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
&nbs
p; “You don’t remember? Honestly?”
I did remember, but I didn’t want to. It was too much to hope for.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He rolled his head back into position to gaze at the ceiling, as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. Suddenly he sat up.
“I’m gonna go play for a bit. Want me to take you back to the home?”
I stared at him in disbelief.
“If you want to,” I said, sitting up as well.
“I don’t want to,” he said roughly.
“I could take a cab,” I said beginning to edge off the bed.
“No. I mean, I want you to stay. I just…I need to…” He hung his head and I understood.
“Go ahead,” I said softly and he exited the room, closing the door. Within seconds, I heard the click of sticks, the clash of cymbals, and the beat of drums.
A nightmare untold…
[Hollister]
He couldn’t have been telling the truth. He couldn’t have been whom he hinted at being. That boy was fuller, softer looking, with doe-eyes full of heroic dreams. He thought he could just rescue me when I was beyond saving. There wasn’t any way Perkins Vale could have been that boy. The boy whose image I held onto each night to work my way through my nightmare; through my life, which had turned into a horrific dream.
When my mother died, I was passed to one uncle – Joseph. Then he passed me to another uncle – Roy. The family was bound in a lineage I couldn’t follow. I didn’t have any sisters or brothers, so this made me an orphan. Despite living with Uncle Roy and my cousins, I never felt part of their family unit. Maybe it was the different times I had been separated from them. Maybe it was because I was a relative put into their charge to be protected. I never fully understood what I had to be protected from, though, until the first kidnapping.
A stranger broke into our dilapidated home, taking me from my bed, leaving behind my cousin in the other bed. The kidnapper said I was his destiny; The Promised One, and he was chosen to have me. I was fourteen. He was twenty-five. He was everything I never wanted. I didn’t believe him for one second, until he started to beat me. When I didn’t submit, when I whimpered and cowered, when I adamantly refused, he said I was not fulfilling the will of the Chosen One. Him. He reminded me I was his promised one and he took what he felt was his due. I screamed in pain the first time, until I learned that he did not wish for noise. I learned to keep quiet, over time, and I began to believe his haunting words. This was my destiny. I was promised for this. I only wondered what I had done to be chosen for hell.
We lived secluded in the woods within miles of my uncle’s home, and yet no one found me. The tent was stifling throughout the summer, despite the shade of trees and the breeze off the lake. I was convinced no one searched until eight months later, when a beautiful large boy stumbled upon our site. I was confused and convinced he was to be my savior. He made promises to return when we were almost interrupted in our introductions by Jordan. But he didn’t return, and I didn’t even know his name.
The next day I was discovered at a farmer’s market. I never dared to disobey my kidnapper, Jordan Waters. I stayed close to him, as he demanded, and avoided the eyes of others while we wandered the stalls at the local fair. My head was bent as I followed after him, gazing with desire for the fresh fruit and beautiful bracelets made of hemp that adorned the carts. I reminded myself I didn’t need the natural jewelry, as I had a special gift of my own now, sown into the hem of my restrictive dress. Jordan was not into seduction. I was simply told to remove my clothing. He did not touch it in any manner and I believed my gift was safe in the lining of my dress.
When the police officer recognized me and asked me to follow him, I was extremely hesitant and skeptical. I glanced around in panic for Jordan. I was worried I was being arrested as Jordan often spoke negative words about government institutions and the law. I didn’t want to fall prey to another man despite the uniform, but something about his demeanor assured me that I would be safe. I could trust him. I followed his command and was placed within a cop car. Eventually, I watched my captor, handcuffed, escorted, and positioned into the opposite car.
I’ll be back for you.
His words made me shiver as they blended with the sound of another voice, promising the same words.
I woke with a start and found I was surrounded in total darkness. Not a light shown through the slats of the blinds, or where the door to Perkins room should have been. I was enveloped in the deepest of black that I hadn’t experienced since the stifling oppressive nights inside the tent. My body was suddenly rigid, despite warmth I felt near me. My heart sprinted inside my chest. I blinked several times, but I still couldn’t see anything in the darkness. My voice squeaked as I felt movement next to me. Although I recognized I was within Perkins home, the sound I made was sheer panic.
“Jordan?”
The darkness…
[Perkins]
I sensed she’d been dreaming. She’d fallen asleep, but I was restless. Regardless of my shower antics and my drum bashing release, I was pent up frustration at Arturo, at her, and at myself. I had passed to anger. Anger that he was missing and we had no answers. Anger at her for not remembering me, and I was once again angered with myself for building a fantasy of her.
I lay next to her, listening to her mumbles and watching her twist in her sleep, when a transformer popped and the world got a bit darker. The street lamps from outside, that lit the edge of the river I lived on, disappeared from the slats of the blinds in my room. The low light that I kept on over my kitchen island went off, removing the soft glow that spread into my room through an etched glass window in the door. As if the sound of the blown electricity sparked the end to her dreaming, she flinched and squeaked out the name of another man.
I should have been jealous. I was jealous, because I knew she had been with others. It was obvious in the way she moved on top of me. She was seductive and sinful. I wanted to know her ways without learning how she knew these truths. I also understood that she had been abused and her experiences might not have been her choosing. I tried to argue this in my head as confirmation that she would have waited for me, as I waited for her, if she could have. My mind had cleared to this argument after I played tonight. I took comfort in knowing she was with me now. But I was still envious that someone else had had her first.
When she said my name after his in utter fear, my jealousy dissipated.
“Perkins,” she choked.
I don’t know why I didn’t respond at first. Maybe it was that I was startled at the tone of her voice. She said my name both as if she was frightened and as if she needed me.
“I’m right here,” I said, not able to clearly see her in the dark. My eyes were slowly adjusting though, and I could make out the shape of her. I saw when her head rapidly turned toward me.
“Perkins?” she said again softly. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought her voice sounded like a sob of relief.
“I’m here. I’m right here.” I don’t know who reached for whom first. I didn’t want to scare her further, but I raised my hand to brush her cheeks at the same time I felt her hands on my chest. She scooted over to me and crushed her body against mine; wrapping her arm over my neck and pulling her body flush with me. She had me in a headlock maneuver as she slid a leg over my hip and bent her knee to press her heel into my back. It was as if she couldn’t get close enough to me.
“Perkins?” she whispered to my ear and her call traveled through my entire body.
“I’m here,” I said softly, as my lips met her skin for the first time. I kissed her neck in the darkness. She tasted salty and sweet. She didn’t flinch and she didn’t move away. As a matter of fact, she still had the strong wrestler’s hold on me, and my hands dragged to her hips. I kissed her neck again, holding my lips there for longer before letting the tip of my tongue slip out and taste her. I hesitated as I let my tongue trace over her, and I felt her shiver
before she slightly relaxed her embrace.
“I’m here,” I said again and placed another kiss just below her ear, holding my mouth over her warm skin and breathing in her smell. She was very floral, like roses and lavender. I felt the deep breath she took as her breasts rose and fell against my hard chest. I wished again we were skin to skin. She released a little more of her hold, as I grew bolder and traveled down her jaw with tender kisses. Her breathing was heavy in my ear, but I worked on calming her as my own heart sped up under my skin. My hands had moved from her hips to her waist, keeping her steady despite her wrap around me.
“Perkins,” she sighed that time, as if a whisper of her relief and my mouth found hers. I’d guiltily admit I’d kissed a girl or two as a newly rising rock star. I’d been tempted by the fruit of another, but it wasn’t her and I knew the moment my lips hit theirs. She was everything I imagined it would be. My lips were tentative at first, and as I pulled back she followed me, her lips still pursed to keep the connection.
I returned my mouth to hers and took what I had been waiting for years to claim. I savored her as my lips covered hers, tugging and pulling, sucking and nipping. I wanted it all. Every kiss I’d never had I wanted that night with her, and we kissed, and kissed, and kissed.
Slowly, I braved my tongue touching those luscious curves of temptation. She moaned softly against my mouth causing the vibration to travel to my core, which stood as erect as it ever had. I used my tongue to trace her soft purr, and she opened further, shocking me when hers met mine. We swirled and twirled, chasing one another, trying to find the way when I slipped forward and pulled her tongue to me. As we danced through this connection, our lower bodies pressed. She had opened wider to me and I allowed my hardness to fall within the warmth of her thighs. While I longed for closer contact, I knew my over-strung body could not handle it. She was going to bring me to my knees despite the clothing barrier.
