by Liana Key
She didn't miss a beat. "Sure thing. No problem. Thanks for your help today."
I quickly got in to my car, buckled up, but I didn't start the engine. Blood felt like it was racing through my brain, deafening me. Control, Cash, that's me, that's what I'm all about. I took the keys back out of the ignition, but I didn't move. I put the keys back in. I remembered her touch, on the back of my neck, her fingers sliding down my front. I took the keys out again. Impulsiveness wasn't me, remember. But I wanted her, I wanted her so badly. What to do? What the fuck to do? If I went back in, what would happen? If I went back in, would there be any turning back?
I opened my door and got out, put my phone in my pocket and half jogged to the back entrance. "Ooh," said Jenny as I nearly collided with her at the corner.
"I forgot my jacket," I said quickly as I kept moving and I heard her call, "See you."
Eddie and Paola were at the door. There was genuine surprise on her face.
"I forgot my jacket," I lied so easily, staring her in the eyes.
"Oh," she exclaimed. She looked at Eddie. "Go ahead, I'll lock up. Actually I'll grab my laptop while I'm here."
Eddie lingered, "Oh the young ones, bet they never forget their phones, but anything else..." He chuckled and waved at us.
I followed her in, closing the door behind me. It seemed to startle her and she looked behind, at me.
"I didn't forget my jacket," I said. She didn't respond, her eyes just watching me. I worried I'd made the wrong decision. "I didn't bring a jacket," I said, suddenly sure I'd made the wrong decision. Neither of us moved. It was going to be wrong, so wrong. There was still a chance to turn away, still a chance to say I made a mistake, to just flee.
But I didn't want to.
I wanted to stay.
I wanted her.
PAOLA
I didn't get the opportunity to hang around the dining room and watch him. I had a couple of phone calls to deal with, on a Sunday of all days and then I had to check on an outstanding order that had been delayed. I was beyond agitated, being put on hold. I didn't want to miss seeing him, but I did. Jenny said he hadn't wanted lunch, and she was in a hurry to go visiting. My heart sunk to the great depths of beyond, my response seemed irrational. I hastily dialed his number, asking him if he'd gone. He said he was at his car. I asked him if he wanted some lunch. He didn't. I was getting desperate. I said I needed to see him about the roster. He asked if I could text it through to him. The straws I'd been grasping at just broken.
What was I thinking? That I'd snap my fingers and he would come running? And what if he did, had I thought of the implications, and then the consequences? A high school boy, an employee, what was I thinking? The unprofessionalism of it all. I would risk my reputation, my career for this? I quietly prayed thanks for his common sense, if not mine.
Eddie called out that he was ready and I met him at the door. I was about to set the alarms, when Cassian dashed around the corner, practically running. For a minute my heart surged, it rejoiced. And then he claimed he'd left his jacket behind. I deflated faster than a helium balloon. I waved Eddie off, saying I would sort it and he followed me inside, stopping as he closed the door.
And then he said five words that would change my life, his life, our future. "I didn't forget my jacket." I stared, my brain working as fast as high speed broadband. "I didn't bring a jacket."
My breathing had accelerated, I could feel my chest physically lifting. He put his keys into his pocket. He took a step towards me. I took a step back. I glanced back, nodding towards my office. I was there already, unlocking the door. He followed me in, closing it.
I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what was happening. Was I seducing, or being seduced? Did I take the lead? Or did I follow? What were the rules? Were there any rules? What was I thinking? Only that I wasn't thinking. That I was about to go somewhere forbidden, unknown, somewhere where there would be no return.
But I wouldn't be alone.
He would be with me.
And it seemed like that was all that mattered.
Only seconds had passed, but it seemed like we had been staring at each other for an age, sizing each other up, waiting for a first move. I stepped forward. He didn't move. I reached out, my hand skimming his upper arm. Still he didn't move. My other hand reached for his face, the fingers running along his cheekbone, to his mouth, across his lips, something they had longed to do from the moment I first saw him. His eyes followed mine, as if looking, waiting for a signal. I wondered if he was hesitating, having second thoughts and a panic shot through me, could this really be happening? What the hell was I doing? But then he reached for my hand that was still gliding on his lips and dropped it down to the side, guiding it round the back of him, willing me to pull him closer towards me. I did and his hardness pressed against me, making me quiver, making me giddy.
He dropped his head down, his cheek caressing mine and whispered, "I'm yours."
And the words echoed in my ear like a glorious chime, like a heavenly choir. Our lips sealed together, hungry, ravenous, my tongue broke the barrier, searching, penetrating. He responded, his tongue rolling, twirling with mine, making me think of spaghetti. At first I couldn't figure it, the intrusion in my mouth, a loose filling I thought oddly, but realized his tongue was pierced; it threw me, how unusual I thought, had I misjudged him? We broke for a moment, oxygen in short supply, he repositioned himself, his legs taking a wider stance, encompassing my leg between his, sending electricity throughout my body. I groaned at the contact, my neck extending, wanting his mouth to cover me. He obliged, his lips sliding along my skin, my nerve endings calling out in splendid surrender. I moaned with wild abandon, releasing months, maybe years of unbridled passion.
My hand reached down, deftly undoing his belt, unbuttoning, unzipping his pants. He looked down and I detected a hint of shyness as I rolled and pulled at his Calvins. My eyes were not disappointed and a light flush of color over his cheeks, suggesting embarrassment, endeared him to me more. And as his eyes looked into mine and then cast down to his awaiting manhood, it occurred to me that he was a novice. This boy who was a man, this man who was really just a boy.
I suddenly felt in charge, in control and my experience took over. I moved his hands to my sides, lifting my dress in the process. He had my pantyhose and panties to maneuver, not an easy task, but I positioned my fingers over his, and he freed them from my hips, abandoning them at my knees. My hand guided his cock towards me, wanting him inside me now, urgently, desperately. My pleasuring could wait, all my body desired was to feel him inside me, for him to move inside me. He lowered himself and then thrust upwards, our heights not quite synchronized, but then he thrust again and my inner self growled in delight, welcoming him. He moaned, his eyes closed in anticipation, as if he would not allow himself to succumb, not yet. He thrust again, forcefully, brutally even, as if all his energy would consume us both. He sought to go deeper, angling my leg around his back. I felt like I was holding on for dear life. His eyes opened, he moaned, primally, savagely and my name, a prayer on his lips, will forever be embedded in my memory.
"Paola.” His vivid green eyes flashed as he released into me, pleading with me to save him, to sanctify him, to have mercy on him. But it was me who should have been begging for mercy, as the one who took his virginity, as the one who wanted his soul for myself.
CASSIAN
My overriding thought was that I must not disappoint her, I must not let her down. She would have had other men, she must have had expectations. I didn't want to fail her. I wanted to be an A student, I wanted to excel under her tutelage. I would do whatever she asked of me, whatever she demanded.
Her hands were like fire on my skin, her touch a tease, sending unfamiliar sensations through to my core, sensations that cannot be experienced by one's own hand, sensations that cause one to groan without inhibition. Her lips were soft, her mouth a canyon I wanted to explore. She guided my hands to her hips, urging me to remove her underwe
ar. When she took hold of my cock I had to muster up every ounce of self control not to come right there in her hand, such was the torture of her touch. She directed me inside of her and I rejoiced, as if this point right here was my homecoming, my destiny. My release was sweet, spectacular and I felt grateful that this woman was the one who I had unknowingly waited for, had without a doubt been waiting for. My body would never need another, only her.
We tidied ourselves up. I threaded and buckled up my belt, she smoothed down her dress, ran her fingers through and shook out her hair. She dabbed at the corner of one eye with her index finger, as if wiping away a tear.
My concern was immediate, "Are you all right?"
She laughed it off, "Hope my make up hasn't melted off." She was brisk again, competent, walked over to the desk. "Here's a copy of your roster." She held out a sheet of paper for me.
I was astounded. I reached for it, but my longing wasn't over. I realized I hadn't just come for a quick fuck. I took the paper and then wrapped my arms around her, the paper crumpling in my hand. She was rigid at first, as if she wasn't expecting it, as if she didn't need it, but I did. I held her close, inhaling her fragrance. It took a moment, but then I felt her body relax against me, as if she knew the resistance was too great.
"Oh Cassian," she said softly, and her tone was one of anguish, as if we were facing doom. My face nestled in her hair and her hands clung to my back and moments passed, and I could have stayed like that forever. But then I pulled away, kissed the top of her forehead, whispered, "I have to go."
She nodded, and I turned and left, and knew nothing was going to be the same again.
I was starving and went straight to the kitchen when I got home. I poured myself a large glass of milk and made a sandwich of ham and lettuce. Antonia came in, Dominique trailing behind. She gave Dominique a water bottle from the fridge.
"How was work?" she asked.
"Good." I told her how much I'd made in tips.
She smiled and raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Didn't you get lunch?" she asked.
"I didn't feel like it," I said, getting up to make a second sandwich. I took it back to the table. Dominique came and sat on my lap, she's three. I asked her what she'd been doing.
"Garden," she said.
"Dad's tidying up the garden," Antonia said. She came and sat down too. "Did he tell you we're moving?"
"No." A frown came on my face.
"We've been looking at houses. There's one we like in Santa Monica." She looked a bit annoyed. "I thought he would have told you."
"Santa Monica?" Santa Monica wasn't so bad, closer to the beach. But we'd been here for three, four years.
Antonia's voice dropped, as if she didn't want to be overheard. "Trey wants to do it for Magdala. A new start. I think it's a good idea and the lease on this place is up, so the timing is all good."
"Oh," was all I said. Then, "Does Magdala know?"
She shook her head, her voice still low. "We want to see if our offer is accepted."
"What's it like?" I asked, surprised that they'd obviously been house hunting without telling us.
"It's lovely," she suddenly gushed. "Smaller than this, but a lovely pool and garden area, and a nice neighborhood."
I didn't really care about the house itself, I was thinking about school districts, wondering if I'd have to move from Beverly. I only had senior year to go. "But let's not get ahead of ourselves," she continued, "we'll wait and see what happens."
My phone rang. It was Paola. Antonia was looking at me. I answered, "Cassian here."
"Cassian." It's all she said.
I waited, but nothing. The silence was weird. "Yes?" I eventually said, noting Antonia still watching me. Dominique started squirming on my lap, she asked for a cookie.
"Did you get a chance to check the roster?" Paola suddenly said.
"No, not yet." Dominique was demanding chocolate chip.
"You're not alone?" Her voice sounded slightly stressed.
"No."
"Well take a look at it and let me know if it's okay," she said in her restaurant manager's voice, as if other people were now listening in on us.
"I will," I said, and ended the call.
Antonia had put the cookie jar on the table. "You want one Cash?" Dominique asked. I nodded and she shoved one into my mouth, laughing. I picked her up and placed her on another chair, tickling her as I did. She giggled.
I went to my room, showered, taking my clothes to the laundry. I went down to see Dad, he and Damon were doing some planting, Magdala was by the pool reading. I went and joined them. I didn't want to be alone, thinking about what had just happened. I wanted to be surrounded by my family, talking everyday, mundane stuff. Because I knew, soon enough, in the dead of the night, Paola would be on my mind, the vision of us together ready to haunt me, torment me, leaving me to wonder, What next?
Magdala said she was going back to school tomorrow. I told her that was great news. Jakey had told me she had been really good at the Clippers game, clapping and cheering, seemed to have had enjoyed herself. Then Jakey had said, "Except for two things."
I'd been curious then, "What do you mean?"
"This person just along from us was eating a hotdog," he started to say.
"Uh, yeah," I said, with just a touch of sarcasm, "that happens at basketball games, believe it or not."
Jakey jabbed me, "Smart ass. Well, it nearly made her sick." He paused and lowered his voice. "He stunk of hotdogs, she said. She felt nauseous."
I wondered why I didn't know that. I felt bad about what I'd just said. "What did you do then?"
"We went out for awhile," Jakey said, "just to get some fresh air, and then she was okay, and we shifted seats along, so Raff sat next to the hotdog guy." He laughed at his own story.
"So she was okay then?" I didn't like hearing about Magdala suffering, I hated it.
Jakey nodded. "I bought some pizza to cover the hotdog smell." He laughed hard again, thought himself a comedian.
I actually smiled. "You're such a genius," I mocked.
Then he got serious again, "Then later, on the way home, she said she was missing Nate."
My heart surged. Magdala hadn't spoken about Nate, well hardly ever, since it had happened. She had only seen him once, when he came to the house. He'd been texting me, because Magdala's phone had gone missing since it happened. Like, can you believe it? As if it's not enough to rape and beat and stab someone, you take their fucking phone too.
Nate had texted everyday, and everyday I had to give an excuse as to why he couldn't come and see her. Then Dad had said, enough was enough, she had to see him. The guy was in turmoil enough. I don't know what she said to him, but when he left the house, Jakey and I were just arriving. Unfortunately for Nate, Jakey saw him first. Jakey punched him and broke his nose, told him to keep away from Magdala. Jakey had never warmed to Nate, the way I had. I'd always liked him, I thought he was good for Magdala and I knew Magdala loved him. But Jakey always seemed suspicious, wary of him, like he wasn't good enough for her.
We never told Magdala what Jakey had done, there was no need. They'd broken up, so it was doubtful she'd ever see him again. So for Magdala to suddenly declare she missed Nate was a big deal.
"So what did you say?" I queried him.
"I told her he was a good for nothing, fucked up loser," Jakey said, quite passionately.
"You did not." I knew he was over dramatizing.
"Okay," he relented, "I didn't swear, but she got my meaning. The guy is white trash, you know it."
"Just because he's from West, doesn't -"
Jakey cut me off. "Fucking. White. Trash. You know it Cassian." He never called me Cassian, so I knew he meant it.
"So, did she say she wanted to see him or anything?" I was curious now. I had texted Nate a couple of weeks after the broken nose incident, just to see if he was okay..
Jakey shook his head. "I think she was just having a moment," he analyzed, "probably just from bein
g at a basketball game, you know?" Then he confidently added, "She doesn't want him back, she's over him."
I went into Magdala's room, delaying going to bed, dreading alone time. She had sorted her school uniform and had her books and stuff all lined up on her desk.
"Are you excited?" I asked.
"Nervous," she smiled.
"It'll be good," I reassured. "Dad said you played the piano today." She use to practice for an hour or two a day, everyday, but not since It. She said she had no heart to play, no soul.
"Yes and I was rusty as hell," she laughed, "but it felt good."
Just to see her smile, hear her laugh, was these days a miracle in itself. We'd missed it for a month. I wondered if we really were going to move to Santa Monica. I wondered if a fresh start would be just what she needed.
"Well, I'll say goodnight then," I said and I hugged her. She hugged me back. It wasn't an unusual thing, we'd always been affectionate, and not just with Dad, the whole extended family liked a good hug. Jakey and Magdala hugged all the time.
"Thanks Cassian," she said, "I love you." That wasn't unusual either, declaring our love for each other. There was nothing sinister, or dark with it. It was just our family.
"Love you," I bounced back at her.
"Cash?" She stopped me as I got to her door. "Are you all right? You seemed a little..."
My heart rate elevated, I turned and frowned, what did she know? "A little?" I smiled falsely.
She shrugged, "I don't know...out of it? Is everything all right?"
Damn her, did I have Just lost my virginity written on my forehead? I tried to think quickly. "Everything's fine. Just something Antonia said."
"What?"
Damn, now I had to lie, or should I tell her we might be moving. That would be easiest, but what if it upset her. I didn't want to tell her about Paola, that's for sure. "It's nothing," I fibbed.
"Cassian?" It was a tone that demanded an answer.
"Just that we might be moving," I said quickly, "to Santa Monica." Why not just keep going, I'd revealed that much. "They've been looking at a house." I then had to repeat everything Antonia had told me, apart of course the part about it being a new start for her.
