Dear Neighbor

by River Laurent

  ‘Twelve?’ She sounds dazed.

  ‘Straight up,’ the fool boasts.

  Tori

  ‘You’re pissing on my patch, Gav,’ Cash growls.

  Gavin looks dumbfounded.

  ‘Hit the pedal, man,’ he says, his eyes shooting sparks of fury.

  ‘Right, man. Right,’ Gavin mumbles, takes a step backwards and throws a bizarre little laugh while simultaneously looking around to see if anybody else has witnessed his humiliation. Noting that his pride is still intact, he grabs a passing girl and whispers something in her ear. She giggles and nods. He drags her away in the direction of the gardens.

  ‘You’re pissing on my patch? What are you, a dog?’ I fume incredulously.

  He shrugs the macho territorial posturing like it’s a coat or something, and the flash, brash bad boy comes back into town. ‘It’s a guy thing. You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘You’re such a dick.’

  ‘No,’ he corrects, his eyebrows raise innocently, sensuality shimmering in the green wells of his eyes. ‘I have a dick. A big one.’

  ‘Oh my God, I’m stuck in a time loop,’ I say sarcastically.

  He grins, all sex, lust and trouble. ‘Lean in, sugar drop. This is a secret. What happens next between us has never happened to you before.’

  ‘I’m wet and pissed and not in the mood for cheap innuendos, or the whole asshole act.’

  His eyes twinkle. ‘You were doing so well with the first part of your sentence, but I get your point.’ His eyes linger on my body, now that the dress is wet there is not a curve or line that is not completely exposed. I suppress the desire to wrap my hands around my body. He takes my hand. ‘Come on, let’s get you out of that dress and you dried off.’

  I let him lead me away from the crowd towards a corridor on the ground floor. He opens the door and we are at the threshold of a scrupulously clean, minimally furnished room dominated by a massive round bed. Of course it has a mirror over it.

  Suddenly I find myself grabbed and propelled forward until a wall is against my back. My eyes open wide.

  ‘Scared?’ he taunts, his breath tickling my skin.

  I raise my hand and swing it at him. The crack reverberates in the empty room. I hit him so hard there is a white handprint on his cheek and my hand is throbbing furiously.

  He laughs, a deep growling sound. ‘I’ve always liked a girl with a temper.’

  ‘This is sexual harassment,’ I hiss.

  ‘So show me you don’t want me. Say no.’ He pushes his body closer to me so his hot, thick erection presses into my stomach. I gasp, liquid fire rushing through my body. ‘Go on, I’m waiting,’ he challenges.

  I stare up into his eyes as the scent of his wet body, his cologne, his excitement, swirls into me. I feel as if I am twelve again, and just as hopelessly in love with him as I was back then. Not one tiny iota of the love has gone away after all these years. In fact, it has grown up, and become infused with lust. My heart is hammering wildly in my chest and my breath is coming hard and fast. I want to say no. I must say no. I will say no. The answer is no, obviously.

  My palms press against his chest to shove him away and encounter the stone-like slabs of his pecs. I swear I try to fight the thick heat rising between us, but it is in my veins, my skin, his half-hooded eyes, oozing out of his pores. It’s everywhere.

  At that instant I realize something. You can’t outrun lust. It was moronic of me to even think I could. Pure lust is like a spell. It dazes and compels you to do what you know you shouldn’t. It is impossible to resist.

  In fact, I don’t want to resist any more. I want anything and everything he’s offering. I want that mind-blowing climax with the side of wow. Why shouldn’t I have it? Maybe Leah was right all along. Just sleep with him and get it over with. My grandfather once told me the only things he regretted are the things he did not do.

  He fixes me with his mesmeric stare and I stop thinking.

  I let my body take charge. My hands reach out and grab fistfuls of hair as I pull his head down and feast greedily on his mouth. It’s like matter and antimatter touching. We explode. There is no other way to describe the violent hunger. I’ve never felt more alive.

  Every nerve, every cell in my body screams out for him to take me. The passion is as uncontrollable as a forest blaze. All I want to do is tear his clothes off and impale myself on him. I’ve never felt this way before. Lost to everything except Cash. My sensitized body throbs and feels strangely out of control.

  I spread my palms over the broad, strong chest. My fingers look very pale. Moving my head, I bite his nipple. He draws in his breath sharply, but he doesn’t stop me.

  ‘Oh yes, Wildcat. Oh yes,’ he encourages instead.

  He unzips my dress, peels it away and groans at the sight of my bikini-clad body. He reaches behind me, pulls the string of my top and my breasts spring loose. They feel swollen and heavy. His eyes blaze possessively at the sight of my body nude, but for a tiny triangle of black material.

  Expertly, he rolls a hard nipple back and forth between his smooth fingers. My body arches into him and he growls low—the sound is erotic—and sucks my lower lip. Hard. I shiver helplessly.

  ‘God! You’re so beautiful,’ he murmurs as he gets down on his haunches. He bites at the string of my bikini and rips it off my body roughly. I feel his strong large hands lift one of my legs and put it over his shoulder. I begin to move my hips, desperate and seeking.

  He grasps the outer lips of my sex and pulls them apart so the secret, pink inner tissue is exposed, and stares at the glistening flesh. I squirm impatiently. My whole body is hot with desire and excitement.

  His expression is enigmatic as he gazes at the show between my legs. I never thought it would be, but it is an incredible turn-on. I feel dirty, slutty, and shameless … and absolutely fucking vibrant.

  ‘This is what I wanted, wildcat. To see your legs wide open and desperate for me. Keep them spread open.’ His breath fans my fully opened sex, inflaming me. His fingers touch the wet whorls of flesh, and tendrils of excitement snake through my body. He drags his fingers through the soft, sensitive layers. My head tilts back involuntarily, my eyes half close.

  ‘Go on,’ I urge.

  ‘What do you want, Tori?’

  ‘Suck me,’ I say hoarsely.

  He moves his mouth toward my sex, and for one second I look down and take a mental picture of him, breathtakingly handsome, his curling eyelashes long against his cheeks, and then the shock of his mouth attaching itself and greedily licking the wet core between my legs drives all thought from my mind.

  It feels so damn good I writhe, whimper, and push my aching center down hard against his mouth. His tongue moves between the folds, tasting, eating, sucking, and then I feel his finger thrust into me and I suck in a startled breath. Juices flow over his finger as he moves it in and out of me, maddening me. The heat and the hunger increases, and my thighs starts to shake with the approaching orgasm.

  ‘Tori,’ a voice echoes from somewhere.

  I freeze. Sweet heaven! Tori. Not now.

  ‘Fuck, don’t you dare stop. You’re coming,’ he orders harshly.

  ‘She’ll come in,’ I whisper in a panicked voice.

  ‘I locked the door,’ he says, and goes back to devouring my pussy while his fingers pump me hard.

  ‘Tori, where are you?’ Britney calls again, and this time she tries the door handle.

  I try not to scream, but suddenly all hell breaks loose. It’s the kind of orgasm that takes over your body. You have no control of your responses. My nails dig into his shoulder, my mouth opens, and a scream flies out. Super quick Cash lifts his hand and clamps it over my mouth so the sound is muffled. A groan rumbles in his chest. Cash leaves me immediately. I am still leaning against the wall, panting hard when Cash comes back with a bathrobe.

  ‘Wear this, quickly,’ he says, and sliding open the window he climbs out and disappears into the night.

  ‘Tori, are yo
u in there?’ Britney calls and rattles the door handle.

  I take a deep breath. ‘I’m coming,’ I choke out.

  Tori

  I hurriedly pull my arms through the sleeves of the bathrobe, pull the edges together, and tie a knot at the front as I run to the door. I know my face must be flushed and strange, but there is nothing else I can do but face Britney. Taking a deep breath, I unlock the door and Britney almost falls into the room.

  She looks at me accusingly. ‘What are you doing in here?’

  ‘I … I … er … got wet. Your brother said I could dry off in here.’

  That sounded so lame I cringe inwardly, but she is too distraught to notice. She sniffs loudly and comes further into the room. ‘Where’s Cash now?’ she asks tearfully.

  I stare at her anxiously. ‘I don’t know. He must be back at the party. Are you OK?’

  ‘Yeah. I think I had too much to drink.’

  How could that be? She had two glasses of fruit punch.

  ‘I want to go home,’ she says.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want to go back home.’

  ‘Now?’ I ask in disbelief.

  ‘Yes,’ she almost sobs.

  I open my hands out in confusion. Ever since she knew about this party she has not stopped talking about meeting Taylor Swift, and now she wants to go back without meeting her. ‘But what about Taylor? She’s got a gift for you and all.’

  Huge drops of tears roll down her face. I stare at them in amazement.

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she sobs.

  ‘Britney, what is the matter?’

  ‘I just want to go home, OK?’ she wails.

  I hold my hands up. ‘OK, OK. Just wait here. I’ll go find Victor and tell him to bring the car around.’

  ‘No, I’m coming with you,’ she says quickly.

  ‘Come on then,’ I say.

  She comes close to me and takes my hand. Hers feels small, hot and damp. I touch her forehead with the back of my hand. She seems to be running a fever. I frown. How strange. She was fine when we arrived. I lead her through the party-goers.

  We walk quickly, but I can’t help my eyes from scanning the crowd looking for Cash. Unexpectedly my eyes meet Octavia’s. She is watching me with a strange expression. She knows. She knows about me and Cash. I let my eyes slide away quickly and pull Britney towards the front door.

  A hand curls around my wrist. I look up into Cash’s eyes. They are bright. He has changed into a dry T-shirt and black jeans and is looking sexy as hell. I feel myself go hot with the memory of what we did only minutes ago.

  ‘Britney is not feeling very well,’ I tell him. His eyes move from my face to hers. His brow knits.

  ‘What’s wrong, Sparkles?’ he asks.

  ‘Nothing. I think I just drank too much.’

  ‘How much?’

  She shrugs sulkily. ‘I can’t remember now.’

  His eyes narrow and his voice sounds concerned. ‘It’s OK. Tori will get you home safely and I’ll call you tomorrow.’

  ‘Can you tell Taylor that I desperately wanted to meet her, but I wasn’t feeling very well so I had to go home?’ she asks in a small voice.

  ‘Of course I will,’ Cash soothes, but his eyes are watchful and disturbed.

  For an instant I’m aware of undercurrents. I look again at Britney and suddenly I see it. She’s not a spoilt rich girl. She is somehow terribly damaged. I’m not really her PA. I’m kind of guarding her.

  ‘Is Victor bringing the car around?’

  ‘No, he’s parked at the side so we’re just going to walk there.’

  ‘Come on, I’ll walk you both to the car,’ he says and gets on the other side of her. Together we walk towards the car in silence. Each of us lost in our own thoughts.

  Victor is sitting in a group with the other chauffeurs eating a piece of roasted meat using his fingers. When he sees us he drops the meat onto a big plate full of bones, and wiping his hands on a napkin, rises to his feet. He walks towards the car and holds open the back door. Britney looks up at her brother.

  ‘Bye,’ she says unhappily.

  ‘You’ll be fine in the morning,’ he says.

  ‘See you around,’ he says to me.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say awkwardly.

  We get into the car and Victor pulls away. I look at Britney and she is lying back with her eyes closed. I assume she doesn’t want to talk so I turn away and stare at the dark countryside.

  ‘There’s something wrong with me,’ Britney says suddenly, her voice sounding very childlike.

  I face her. In the light from the streetlamps her eyes look big and frightened.

  ‘Is your head spinning?’ I ask.

  She nods.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with you, Brit. You’ve just had too much to drink. When we get home, we’ll get a big glass of water and two aspirins into you and I promise you, you’ll wake up completely fine again.’

  ‘It’s not the alcohol,’ she says softly. ‘There’s something missing in me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not like other people. I don’t feel like I’m whole. I feel empty all the time and nothing I do will fill it.’

  I stare at her, speechless. What do I say to that?

  ‘Have you ever lost something really important?’ she asks me sadly.

  ‘Uh … no, not really.’

  ‘That’s what it feels like. As if I have lost something really important.’

  ‘I … I’m sorry.’

  She lets out a thin wail that makes the hair at the back of my neck rise and I cover my mouth with my hand.

  ‘Help me, Tori,’ she whines.

  For a second I stay frozen with my hand clasped over my mouth, and then something inside me gives, and all the petty resentment I have ever felt about her dissipates into nothing.

  ‘Come here,’ I say and hold open my hands. Like a small hurt child, she scrambles into my arms. I hold her thin body and rock it slowly, as if I am her mother.

  ‘Shhh … Shh … Shh,’ I croon again and again as she sobs her heart out.

  With some shock I realize that I have misjudged her badly. I thought she was an appearance obsessed, shallow rich kid who spent all her days on selfish pursuits. But in fact she is suffering some deep pain and there is nothing I can say to her to make it better. Her suffering seems so profound.

  I pull tissues out of the box at the back of the headrest and pass them to her. Her sobs finally subside just as we get into London. She straightens and moves away from me. When I look at her puffy, reddened face I don’t feel as if there are only two years separating us. Suddenly she seems to be years younger than me. She blows her nose noisily and sniffs.

  ‘We’re nearly home,’ I tell her.

  She looks outside the window, nods tiredly, and falls into a morose silence. The car comes to a stop and I open the car door and get out. The air is cool. Victor opens Britney’s door and, to my surprise, he scoops her up in his arms and proceeds to carry her to the door. I shut the car door and run ahead to put the key in the front door and throw it open for him. He takes her all the way up the stairs and to her bedroom. I follow behind anxiously. He lays her in her bed and turns to me.

  ‘You can take over now?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say quickly.

  ‘Right I’ll be off. Goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ I say, and he goes out and closes the door.

  I look at Britney and she has curled up into a ball on her bed. I walk over and sit beside her.

  ‘Shall I help you get into bed?’ I ask softly.

  She makes a strangled noise but it is so low I have to get on my haunches to try and catch her words. ‘Do you want me to get you a couple of aspirins?’

  ‘No,’ she chokes.

  ‘I’ll just go and get a glass of water, OK?’

  She reaches out a hand and grasps a chunk of my bathrobe. ‘Don’t go,’ she whispers.

  ‘OK, I won’t,’ I say reassuringly.

  She
looks up at me, absurdly grateful for that small concession.

  ‘Do you want to come on the bed?’ Her voice small and pleading, her face is full of childlike trust. How on earth is this girl going to survive in the big wide world?

  ‘All right.’ I take off her shoes and put them on the floor. Then I pull the duvet over her and lie on top of it beside her.

  ‘I’m here,’ I say. She snuggles up to me. Her body is hot. For a while I lie on my back, frozen and stiff, staring at the ceiling and not knowing what to do next, but then it feels right to offer her comfort. So I turn towards her, and lying on my side, gently stroke her hair.

  ‘Go to sleep, Britney,’ I say softly.

  Eventually her breathing becomes even and deep. Very gently I prise her claw like grip on my bathrobe and slowly edge out of her bed. I stand over her and experience shame and guilt.

  Lord, what a judgmental bitch I’ve been.

  I never gave the poor girl a chance. I took one look at her designer clothes and things and her obsession with her physical appearance, and just judged. It never even crossed my mind that it might be a symptom of a deeper suffering.

  My attitude this entire time has been condescending, tolerating her with the kind of politeness that barely concealed my impatience, but all this time she has looked at me as if I’m someone she can trust and call a friend. Her complete innocence touches me and I suddenly feel strong sense of protectiveness. She becomes the little sister I never had and always wanted when I was a little girl.

  Looking down at her softly breathing figure I vow to find a way to help her. There must be something I can do. I tell myself that before I leave this house I will get to the bottom of her pain.

  Bending down I whisper in her ear, ‘Sleep little Brit.’

  She mumbles in her sleep.

  Tiptoeing out, I close the door softly and go to my room. I enter my bathroom and switch on the light. In the harsh light I examine myself in the mirror and suddenly I feel quite detached from everything that has happened. As if it all happened to someone else. As if Cash eating me out and the time with Britney in the car didn’t happen to me. I cover my eyes with my hands.