by L. B. Dunbar
I sat up slowly disentangling Hollister from me, deciding I needed a run. A fresh run through the deep woods would clear my head and my body. I paused as I swung my legs off the bed and sat bent forward for a moment, reaching for my jeans that I dropped on the floor the night before. I saw the rumpled t-shirt that now was filled with my seed, and I bit the smile that tried to curve my lips. I didn’t know if what we’d done was right or wrong, for her.
I began to stand when I felt her fingertips slip into the top band of my underwear and tug gently. Looking over my shoulder, her sleepy gaze made me instantly hard. I needed the run before I made a mess of myself. I sat back down as she still had a hold of my boxers and twisted to look down at her.
“Where are you going?” her sleep laden voice could have been confused for someone drugged.
“Go back to sleep. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in a bit,” I replied.
“Don’t go,” she said softly. I almost missed it; she asked so quietly.
“What?”
She didn’t respond but slid back the blanket and rubbed a hand across the flat sheets. When I still was too dense to recognize what she meant, she sat up, scooting close to me and placed her hand on my bent knee. I was so hard. I stood straight out at her and I moved to shift myself. She moved faster. Her hand wrapped around me and she tugged me.
“Hollister?” I choked in mock teasing and pure surprise.
A slow smile crept over her lips and her gray eyes glowed almost silver. It was a rare image of her that I would have liked to capture in a photograph. It was teasing and seductive in a way that said come to me. She was a temptress, despite the angel I knew she was inside. A woman who worked in a shelter for battered women: who walked the darkened deserted streets to feed the homeless; who guided the poor in spirit. That image was at complete odds with the look on her face.
She still hadn’t spoken as she stroked me. I mimicked her motions as I placed a hand on her knee then slid it forward to the center of her. She leaned back against the headboard to allow me access to her. We stared at one another as we found pleasure again without the cover of darkness.
The day passed and I could hardly keep from touching her. We decided to drive into the quaint small town of Avalon and spend some time walking the shops. I allowed my sister to come with us, as I sensed she needed the break from the searching eye of Mother. Raine was almost a cartoon character of energy as she flitted through the house that morning. As an afterthought, she reminded me of a caged bird flapping its wings in agitation at its prison.
We had lunch at Andie’s, a hamburger/ice cream joint, which hadn’t been there when we were kids. It seemed to be the place to hang on a Saturday afternoon. It was crowded, but we went undetected until Tristan Lyons showed up. He was surprisingly alone, but I knew that later at the party was when he’d pick a flavor of the night. He sauntered into the place in his black leather jacket, ripped jeans, and cool demeanor causing heads to turn. Plopping down into our booth, it shook a little under his weight.
“Well, Perky, who do we have here?” His eyes roamed up and down my sister sitting next to him, before his gaze fell on Hollister. I had this sickening feeling he was about to tell me he knew her, as it seemed to be the custom amongst my closest friends and family. Tristan eyed Hollister as her hand slipped onto my thigh. I almost smiled with pride. She needed to be connected to me.
I covered her hand under the table and introduced Hollister and then my sister.
“Raine?” Tristan swallowed hard, looking my sister up and down again. “Wow. You’ve grown up nicely.”
“I grew up nicely back in high school,” she flirted. “You just didn’t notice.”
“Well, I don’t do jailbait,” he muttered.
“Good thing I’m not that any longer,” she replied. A smile crossed my sister’s face as she bit the straw of her soda. Watching her eyes roam over Tristan gave me a shiver.
“No,” I said firmly.
They both looked at me, shocked at the tone of my voice. Hollister’s delicate hand squeezed my thigh under my hand.
“Absolutely not,” I said, tapping my hand on the table a bit harsher than I intended and a spoon flipped.
“Relax,” Tristan said, leaning back in the booth and smiling slyly. He crossed his arms and his green eyes teased me. “I don’t do sisters, either.”
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Raine’s shoulders sag in defeat, but I was relieved. I trusted Tristan and I took his word for it, even if he said in a teasing manner.
“Now, ladies of the night on the other hand….” Tristan let his voice trail off as he leaned forward again and kept his gaze firmly on Hollister.
I reached across the table so swiftly I knocked over a soda that began to waterfall off the table. Hollister tried to stand in the booth and began throwing napkins from the metal dispenser over the liquid that cascaded off the edge of the table. A waitress appeared with a towel and I heard the wheels of a mop cart behind me. Tristan had already righted the cup, but I hadn’t released him.
“Dude, you’re making a scene,” Tristan mumbled, as I glared at him and his green eyes laughed at me.
I released him and we both sat back down. The waitress still remained, her eyes drifting to Tristan who continued to watch me. He turned to smile at her and that was all it took. She sucked in a breath, her hand covered her heart, and she smiled quickly before turning to hastily walk away. While the busboy mopped the floor next to me, Tristan scanned my face, and then his expression faltered.
“That’s what I thought,” he said softly, his look breaking my glare. “Another Arturo,” he said with a sigh.
I didn’t know what he meant, but the mention of our leader made my heart drop. The last time we had been in this area, Arturo brought Guinevere. It was supposed to be a break from the city as we prepared for our world tour. The tour we would be on right now, if it hadn’t been for that night. The night I found Hollister, and Arturo was in the accident. My thoughts drifted. Could I trade that night? Absolutely. Not. I didn’t wish to sacrifice one of my best friends, not in a million years. But I couldn’t deny that if I hadn’t found her, she wouldn’t be sitting next to me. She wouldn’t be clenching my thigh under the table, and I wouldn’t be covering her hand in an attempt to hold her attached to me. My heart broke at the realization that this is where it started for us all.
Arturo and Guinevere had fallen in love the past summer and by August they were engaged. I was surprised at how quickly it happened for Arturo. He had been as loose as Tristan and Lansing. Women loved him. He had a reputation for being a generous lover. I had no idea what that meant. There wasn’t a woman bitter or dissatisfied after she’d been with Arturo, except for Ana LaFaye, but that was another story. Arturo always said when he found the one, he’d know. He shared that with me because I think he felt I’d understand. Arturo hadn’t been searching his whole life for that one girl like I had, but he understood that when that one girl came along, he would know who she was. Guinevere DeGrance had been that one girl.
Guinevere wasn’t the first girl we saw that night at the Halloween party. As a matter of fact, the first person we saw looked like she’d been cloned. Three women draped in flowing black dresses, with intricate masks, greeted us at the door. It was a fashion statement, as they looked elegant but costumed. The only difference between them was one girl had wild curly hair that didn’t match the others. My cheek was kissed in turn as I presented Hollister: Guinevere DeGrance, Layne Ascolat, Elaine Corbin. When I got to Elaine, she had her cousin in an embrace that almost knocked the two women over.
“Hollister, why haven’t you called me? Why haven’t you returned my calls?” Elaine whined, as we broke off to the side of the entrance party. I stood behind Hollister, ready to defend her against I didn’t know what with her cousin. I couldn’t see Elaine’s face, but her voice expressed her concern.
“Where have you been?” Elaine began again, holding each of Hollister’s hands with hers.
/> “I’m in the city,” she said sheepishly, looking at me over her shoulder. It was a plea for help and I was happy to step in.
“She’s staying with me,” I said proudly and Elaine looked up at me. This time, despite the mask, I could see her shock.
“Perkins?” she questioned, but I didn’t know what she intended to ask in my name.
“I have her,” I said sounding possessive but honored. I did have her. Hollister SanGrael was with me.
“Blanche fleur, ma cherie, Daddy will be so happy you are being taken care of.”
With those words, I saw Hollister bristle and it all came crashing in on me. It was this house. In a room upstairs, someone stole inside, and robbed it of Hollister. The woman, clutching Hollister’s hands, was in the next bed. It could have been Elaine, but it wasn’t. Whoever this Jordan Waters man was, he had a mission, a personal mission, and his loot was Hollister SanGrael. My hand slid around her back, and I stepped closer to her in a move that I wanted the world to see I treasured her. She was my paragon, and I was never going to lose her again.
“I’ll find Uncle Roy this evening,” Hollister said gracefully. “I promise, I’m okay.” She glanced at me sideways in her intricate mask. “I’m more than okay,” she said. Her words held a promise as she spoke them to her cousin, a promise that she might be happy to be treasured by me.
We continued into the side room that had been made into a makeshift coatroom. Capes, dress coats and a fur or two hung off racks. I removed my leather jacket and hung it up. I’d decided against dressing up. I was going to go as a Gladiator. The costume was authentic and I’d thought it would be fun to pretend. In the last minutes, I chickened out and claimed to have left the costume back in the city. I didn’t think I could pull it off, regardless of the body structure to match. I’d gotten a quick glance of Lansing Lotte across the entryway and noticed he wasn’t dressed either. I was relieved that I hadn’t made a fool of myself. I often felt I did when I was with the band. I felt a bit on the outside of the circle.
I turned to help Hollister with her coat. I hadn’t seen her costume. She said she wanted to surprise me, and she came down the stairs of Mother’s home buttoned up to the top. Despite the cool lake air of the night, she wore flat sandals that I could see laced up her legs. I hardly saw her wear anything but her combat boots. She wore socks in my home, claiming the floor was chilly. Only in bed was she barefoot, and I shivered with the thoughts of her there.
She slipped off her coat and my body went into a full rumble of convulsion. Standing before me was a vision of sin and seduction. Hollister’s dark hair gleamed against exposed skin. In the pale light, I could see how it was slightly darker, almost olive toned. She had some kind of halter top on that looked almost like a sports bra except it was anything but athletic. Her gray eyes sparkled that silver color through the multi-colored mask of pastel blues and greens that matched the multi-layered skirt she wore below her exposed navel. Wrapped around her waist was a chain with false gold coins. When she twisted, now that she was out from under the coat, they jingled against her bare skin. She fluffed out the soft looking fabric of her skirt that looked vaguely transparent.
She was dressed as a woman ready to perform the dance of the seven veils.
Halloween masquerade continued…
[Hollister]
The way Perk looked at me made me want to rip off the seven veils at once and open up to him, but then he spoke.
“You cannot wear that out there,” he said, his voice shaky and he shook his head.
“Why not?” I responded defensively, grabbing a fist full of the gauzy material and pulling it out to my sides.
“Every man out there is going to fantasize about you tonight, after he creams himself when you walk in that room,” he said with such innocence and conviction; I laughed.
“That won’t happen.” I shrugged.
“Hollister SanGrael, I refuse to let you enter that room dressed like this.” His tone had clearly changed.
“You sound like your Mother. I most certainly will enter that room.” I pointed out the door with emphasis. “Dressed exactly how I’m dressed. And it won’t make a bit of difference to anyone, including you.”
Before I knew what happened, I was crushed against the wall, Perk’s heavy length pressed into me through layers and layers of thin fabric. I sighed in surprise and the pleasure of feeling him against me, and he covered my mouth to capture my breath. He kissed me hard, his fingertips digging into my flesh under the gold chain but above the silky material. My hands were flat against the wall, bracing myself for his assault, but I immediately gave into him and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was lifting me, and I stood on tipped toes to keep anchored to the ground. If I was pulled any higher, I knew I’d wrap my legs around him, as well, and he’d suddenly have me in the coatroom. The sexual tension between us was so volatile; I could feel it in the atoms that surrounded us.
He continued to attack my lips, sucking on my lower one to open me up, then forcing his tongue inside my mouth to spar with mine. We fought each other in a dance of wills, but I was losing. He had me at hello, as the saying goes. I wanted him to conquer me completely. I was tired of the battle of foreplay and wanted the war of sex with him.
His hands didn’t move from my hips. He was holding them there to steady himself. If they wandered in the slightest, the battle was lost. I would be his. Checkmate. Queen stolen.
He pulled away quickly and a popping sounded from the release of our lips.
“It makes all the difference to me,” he said, breathing heavily. He couldn’t get his forehead against mine with the delicate mask surrounding my eyes.
“Why?” I asked shakily, my heart sprinted under the thin covering of my breasts. “Why does it make a difference to you?”
“Because I…because you’re…” He faltered in his words and I prayed he didn’t say special. Promised. Chosen. Any of those would have killed the moment. Whatever he planned to say was interrupted by the voice of Tristan Lyons.
“Wow, taking her in the cloakroom,” he said in a fake British accent. “How very scandalous of you, my good Perky, old boy.”
Perkins slowly let me down to the ground, but held me firm against him. It was as if he was trying to cover me. We were additionally interrupted when my cousin entered. She sucked in a breath and covered her mouth in surprise as she looked at me. Reaching out for me, I stepped away from Perkins taking her hand. She pulled me forward to examine me, her eyes rolling slowly up my body from my laced gold sandals to the silky gauze and bare midriff. She smiled brightly as she surveyed my chest and then my face.
“You look…radiant,” she sighed. “My God, Hollister. You’re a treasure to behold.”
Perkins relaxed next to me. I didn’t think it was relief, but rather defeat he felt.
“She stole my words,” he muttered, but I wasn’t sure I heard correctly. I looked at him over my shoulder for confirmation when Tristan spoke.
“Can I have a veil as a souvenir? I’d like to keep it as a reminder of what I’ll miss out on,” his voice was pure teasing, but there was a shift in Perkins. He brushed past me and slammed Tristan up against the same wall I’d been on. His forearm was under Tristan’s chin, pushing into his neck and Tristan’s face was turning red in his laughter.
“Dude, chill. Be proud you’re with the hottest girl here, man.” There was no more fake accent.
“I…don’t look at her,” Perk almost squeaked, but it was marbled with a growl.
“Give it up, man. Men won’t be able to help it. Relax. It’s clear she’s with you. What’s wrong with you?”
Slowly Perk released Tristan, who slid down the wall a bit.
“I don’t know,” Perk whispered in response.
Tristan reached a shaky hand out to his friend and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder.
“Relax, man,” Tristan patted once, twice then kept his hand firmly on Perk’s shoulder.
“Relax,” he repeated and Perk
ins began to shake his head slowly. He was lowering it before Tristan, and I saw it in the edge of his face. He felt ashamed. My heart broke for him. I didn’t want him to be embarrassed by me. I didn’t want him to feel that what we’d done was wrong.
“Relax,” Tristan said again softly, and Perkin’s chin practically hit his chest as he covered his face, nodding in agreement. They were still close to one another and the tender touch of a hand on my arm made me jump. I looked over at Elaine. I’d forgotten she was witness to this interchange between friends.
“Come find Daddy with me,” she said gently, encouraging me to follow her and leave the boys alone. I passed behind Perk’s broad back and made it to his side before his hand reached out for my other arm. Glancing back at him, he mouthed: I’m sorry. I only shook my head, and smiled weakly. There was nothing for him to be sorry about.
We didn’t find my uncle, thankfully. I was already a shaky mess after the turn on and then turn down of Perkins, not to mention being present in this elaborately restored home. It wasn’t like this when I was here. It was hollow and dingy, almost medieval. The rooms had simple furnishings. One bed. One sofa. No television. Firelight and candles lit the night in a haunting, mysterious manner, but that was no longer true. The large fireplace was ablaze, almost a bonfire inside the extra-large living room that opened out three French doors to a detailed flagstone patio and a refreshingly rich landscape.
Once we’d left Perk and Tristan, Elaine guided me through the crowded party in hopes of finding her father. She was sidetracked the moment Lansing Lotte arrived in the living room. Her hand began to moisten on my cool arm. Elaine was the epitome of hostesses, something I knew I would never be. She continued with grace through the party, but her vision was focused on one man. She was no longer interested in finding her father.
