by Shara Lanel
Well, first things first. She moved the tray to the opposite night stand, the one without the stack of books, then she settled against the pillows and fell asleep.
* * * *
Dusk had settled among the brick buildings when Kerry awoke. Rays of orange and sienna reflected off dust motes near the window. The electric streetlight clicked on outside the window, ruining the effect. Kerry couldn’t believe she’d slept so long. On the foot of the bed lay a set of silk pajamas. Kerry’s precious duffel sat on the nearby chair, but it was open and half-empty.
“Where are my clothes?” she wondered aloud. Kerry slid over cotton sheets and padded across thick carpet to her bag. With relief she spied her two books, her shoes and the tire iron, but no clothes. She checked the closet but found only Rick’s clothes, an odd assortment of suits and white robes, but none of her own. Next, she checked his dresser. Same thing.
“He took my clothes.” Panic fluttered in her chest. “How dare he!” She sucked in a deep breath and tried to think. What could he want with her clothes?
Of course. The Good Samaritan had probably taken them to wash. She hoped.
Kerry pushed her fears aside and surveyed her fingers. A new layer of grime had settled over them after her night in the alley, every nail was broken and packed with dirt so she decided to take a shower.
She let the water heat until it steamed, then stepped under the streams. The shower was a bit old-fashioned compared to the state-of-the-art multi-jet thing she’d had in La Jolla. There, she’d had a marble bench to sit on and water had shot out from the walls as well as the shower head. It had seemed heavenly at the time, but now she realized that she’d never truly appreciated it. How could she appreciate something until she’d lived without it?
And that was true of the way Rick had touched her. As the water soaked her hair and cascaded over her shoulders and breasts, she recalled his tentative touches. He hadn’t expected to be pleasured. He hadn’t forced or threatened her. He’d been patient and inquisitive. She squirted shower gel into her palm and rubbed her hands together until the soap lathered. The white bubbles dripped to the floor as she spread the lather along her collarbone and down her arms. She soaped her sensitive underarms slowly, and moved her hands over her breasts and areolas and down her stomach. She liked her stomach. It was slightly rounded, enough to be feminine. She skimmed her hands down, beyond her pelvis to her thighs.
Soaping the inside of her thighs led her back to the memories of Rick’s touches. Soon her own fingers were gliding higher, until the curls of her mons tickled the back of her knuckles. To feel sexual after so many weeks of fear and months of indifference was a beautiful thing. She didn’t feel comfortable enough in Rick’s house to linger there touching herself, but it was enough to know that she wanted to for once. Instead of giving into temptation, she rinsed the foam from her body, humming a bit.
She dried herself with a fluffy towel before donning the silk pajamas. These she rolled at the waist and cuffs to make them fit. So comfortable.
Suddenly tears were in Kerry’s eyes. She’d always worn silk at home and at college. Jason had preferred her to sleep naked, so he’d thrown out all of her pretty nighties, allowing her only the white high-necked gown for when she slept alone. Kerry hadn’t understood at the time why he’d felt so strongly about them. What difference did it make if she kept them as long as she never wore them?
But it hadn’t been about the nighties at all. It had been about control.
Jason had systematically taken away her choices. He had sought to humiliate her, in small ways at first, then larger. One evening when they’d planned to attend a charity ball, Jason had demanded that Kerry wear an almost sheer gown with no underthings. This was not done. Society demanded slips and support bras and hose. She would look no better than a whore, but that had been what he’d wanted, to make her feel uncomfortable even among her friends. All evening she’d stayed sequestered behind a table with her arms crossed over her chest.
A knock sounded at the door, pulling Kerry out of her reverie. She stepped out of the bathroom and opened the door. Rick held a neatly folded stack of clothes in his arms, causing Kerry to sigh in relief.
“I hope you don’t mind. I threw these in the laundry.”
Kerry didn’t know what to say. The gesture was sweet, but a normal houseguest would not require fresh laundry on the first day of her visit.
“Thank you,” she murmured, unable to think of something blasé in explanation.
“The pajamas fit?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Rick looked at her with that direct gaze of his, as if he were reading her soul. “As promised, I have prepared a dinner for you, if you’re ready to come downstairs?”
Kerry looked down at the silk pants. “You don’t mind my casual apparel?”
“Not at all.” Rick wore khakis and a button down shirt rolled up at the sleeves, but his feet were bare.
Barefooted as well, Kerry followed Rick to the dining room where candles were set atop an antique table, along with two place settings of china and silver. “You were going for romantic again, weren’t you?”
Rick grinned. “Sahi. Another tip from Evan, I admit. And he seems to have a way with the ladies.”
“Yeah, sure knocked me off my feet.”
Rick laughed as he pulled a chair out for Kerry and helped her push it in.
“Did Evan teach you such manners as well?”
“Actually, my mother. She demanded that Father and I treat her as a lady even when we were living in a tent. We were expected to dress for dinner and open doors or tent flaps for her.”
“Was your mother from here?”
“No, she was British. My father was American. They were archeologists who met on a dig in Egypt. I think they stayed in the States long enough to have me, then their wanderlust returned and off we went again.”
Kerry noted the little laugh lines crinkling in his face. His eyes lit up when he talked about his parents, or perhaps that was just a reflection of the candlelight. Don’t be fanciful. You barely know this man. Jason had seemed suave and considerate when they’d first met as well.
“Were you in India then when they died?”
“Yes.” He pulled the salad bowl to him and spooned leafy greens onto Kerry’s plate.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought that up.”
“No, I don’t mind talking about them, even the sad times.” But he didn’t say more, so Kerry let the conversation move to food as she enjoyed the delicious dinner.
As Kerry chewed slowly, savoring each bite, she wondered if she should confide in Rick and ask for his help. He obviously had an inkling since he had done her laundry, but laundry was one thing, keeping a strange woman in his home indefinitely was another. Perhaps she should see how the evening went. He had said she could stay as long as she needed to, but what if at the end of the evening he asked her to leave again, as he had last night? One thing at a time, she thought, taking a sip of the cool herbal tea. It was one day at a time that had gotten her away from Jason and across the country. She thought of her sister again. Perhaps she should call.
No. Absolutely not.
“You’re scowling at your tea. Would you like something else to drink? I have mango juice, water, of course, and some wine Evan convinced me to purchase.”
“No, this is fine. Thank you.” She sipped it again, trying for a lighter expression. “You really depend on your cousin then?” Kerry did not have a favorable impression of that man.
Rick gave a wry smile. “I know it sounds ridiculous for a grown man to rely on someone else’s opinions so much. Yes, Evan is helping me convert to the American way of life, and for that I am thankful. But he is also the first family I have known since the death of my parents. In fact I didn’t know he existed until the solicitors put me in touch with him.” He gazed at the candle flame. “Anyway, I’ve enjoyed having someone to talk to.”
Rick tilted his head and looked at Kerry. “Do n
ot worry. As soon as I get my bearings, I’m sure I’ll have enough opinions of my own.”
Kerry had been wondering if Rick was a bit under Evan’s thumb. “Your kitchen represents you well, I think.” She remembered glimpsing exotic fruit in a wire basket near the window, as well as clusters of herbs and dried peppers hanging from hooks under the cabinets.
“Yes, I truly enjoy cooking. It’s fascinating, experimenting with texture and flavor.” The way he said the words “texture and flavor” with his delicious accent made her feel warm and liquid. She thought of the way she had touched herself in the shower, the feeling of freedom she’d had just imagining it. What if Rick had been there with her, watching her and getting off on it, too? That idea turned her on unbearably, making her squeeze her thighs together with one hand between them. The other hand gripped the fork for dear life. She had a hard time returning to the conversation.
“How did you learn?” Kerry asked, thinking of her own ineptitude in the kitchen, anything to take her mind off the idea of masturbating in front of Rick. She knew how to order caterers about, but didn’t know how to boil water.
“I learned some from my mother and some from the native cooks who helped at the digs. But most I learned from the women in the village near the monastery. I spent many hours watching while the women cooked, asking questions until they shooed me away, saying that I must have some praying to do.” Rick’s lips rose at the memory. “The meals often took all day to prepare—so many steps and very primitive conditions compared to my kitchen here.”
“I can only admire the results of your training.” She pointed at her now empty plate and prayed he wouldn’t notice her nipples as rigid as doorknobs plainly visible through the silk.
* * * *
Rick admired Kerry’s brown eyes in the candlelight. She had smooth arching brows and high cheekbones. He wondered where she came from, her family, friends, her schooling. What had her life been like to lead her down this path?
Rick’s own path had been convoluted, certainly not the path to enlightenment he had imagined. His days at the monastery had seemed longer and longer as his quest for nirvana failed time after time. His mentor, Rama, had reminded him that he must not press or demand, that he must relax and flow, continue the practice. It would come. However, Rick had learned to mistrust every word from his mentor’s mouth. Poor Inela. Rama Prasad had been the biggest hypocrite of all.
Holding Inela’s limp body had brought Rick close to betraying his vow of non-violence. Tears had blurred his vision as his shaky hands had brushed her hair from her face. The grotesque gash across her neck had glared at him accusingly and he remembered picturing his own hands around Rama’s wiry neck.
In the end, Rama’s guilt remained unproved and, despite his suspicions, Rick could not justify revenge without evidence. Though the fasting and praying had calmed his blood lust, he’d realized the time had come for him to leave.
After Inela’s death, Rick had never felt so alone. He’d ached for family, for someone to ask him about his day, someone to request his advice, someone who would notice his absence and ask after him. Discovering a cousin had eased that ache somewhat, and Evan had told him stories of a slew of family members in other states. But their lives were distant and unlikely to cross with his frequently.
No, what he wished for was a wife and children.
He watched as Kerry sipped her tea, her pinkie pointed out. He thought of his mother. She had held her finger the exact same way as she sipped tea from a china cup.
He shook his head. When he thought of a wife he thought of a woman robust and healthy, with ample breasts and hips for childbearing, a welcoming smile, a generous heart. Kerry was slim and sexy, but also cynical and homeless. He could not picture her romping in the yard with children and a dog, or cooking with him in the kitchen, tasting each other’s creations.
No, Kerry would not do in that role, but just thinking about her body, seeing the curve of her breasts in the V of the silk top, remembering her moans from the night before, made him hard. Yes, she would do very well in the role of lover, he imagined. He would not think of the future and his loneliness. He would just live in the moment, as the Buddha taught.
Rick stood abruptly. “I have some fruit.”
Kerry looked perplexed.
“For dessert, to cleanse the palate.”
“Oh.”
He felt the heat of her gaze on him as he took their plates to the kitchen, then again when he returned. When she placed a grape against her lips and in her mouth, Rick licked his own lips. Her lips formed a perfect O for a moment, and in that moment he pictured those lips on the head of his cock, sucking him, as he’d seen on TV the night before.
I am being a fool, he thought, but then she took a bite of mango and he watched just as intently, marveling at the line of her neck, the curve of her cheeks, as if she were a rare work of art.
“You’re staring at me.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t you want any fruit?”
“No.”
“Then what would you like?” Her voice seemed husky, alluring.
Rick opened his mouth, intending to tell her he wanted her naked. He had a startling vision of himself rubbing a strawberry against each of her nipples and following with his mouth.
“You’re staring again.”
Rick blinked, realizing he was ogling her breasts. He could see they were peaked, but he wanted to see through the thin fabric, to see all of them, their shape and texture. He looked up and met her eyes. She lowered them immediately and pink traveled from her neck to her face.
Rick cleared his throat. “Um, would you like to go to the living room?” Kerry’s eyes pierced him. Had that sounded too much like an invitation for a repeat of last night? “To watch some telly, perhaps?”
“That sounds fine.” She stood and reached for the dessert plates. “I’ll clear these and join you in a moment.”
* * * *
In the kitchen, Kerry tried to clear her head. She dumped the rinds in the trash and ran water to rinse the plates. The way Rick had been looking at her, hot enough to smolder the air between them, had caused steam to float off her body. Even now she felt overheated, flushed. She sprinkled some water on her face and took a deep breath.
Be honest with yourself, Kerry. You wouldn’t mind a repeat of last night. Last night had been so surreal; it seemed like a dream now. A good dream even if the ending was strange.
Well, Kerry, you know this is the price of dinner and bed. You can’t say no when he’s been so kind. And you don’t really want to anyway.
Yes, that was the truth. Kerry lifted her head and marched from the kitchen as if into battle, but when she reached the living room she realized they were no longer alone. Evan stood just inside the door with Rick blocking the pathway to the living room. He seemed to be trying to get rid of his cousin, but when Kerry came into view their conversation ceased.
“What is she doing here?” Evan brushed past Rick. “I told you he couldn’t get your car back. What is your game, lady?”
Kerry had nothing to say. She did play a “game,” the prize being a place to spend the night.
“Evan,” Rick said in a low voice, “I think it’s time for you to leave.”
“Me? She needs to leave. Can’t you see she’s using you? She could rob you blind, and you’re so gullible you would let her.” He stalked closer to Kerry, using his size to intimidate, just as her fiancé had done. She refused to step back, though inside the shame burned.
“My cousin,” Rick said in the same low tone of voice as he took Evan’s arm, “it is time for you to go.”
“No way. I look out for my own.” He glowered at Kerry and she felt her cheeks burn red. Then his expression changed, contorted, and he looked to his cousin. “Dammit, Rick, let go of my arm!”
Kerry focused on Rick. He stood with his left leg back, his right leg slightly forward. His hand gripped Evan’s bicep and his eyes were intense.
Evan brought
his left fist up as if to strike. “That hurts. Let go of my arm.”
“My cousin, I have asked you to leave. Will you do so?” Other than his eyes and his hand, Rick’s body seemed relaxed, lithe.
Evan looked as if he still planned to throw a punch, but then he shook his head. “Have it your way, Cuz. Just don’t come crying to me after she steals all of Auntie’s silver.”
Rick released Evan’s arm and escorted him to the door. “I did not know our aunt had silver.”
Evan grimaced. “You really should do an inventory, for insurance purposes at least.” He rubbed his arm. “How do you do that?”
“Training,” Rick said, shutting the door behind his cousin.
Kerry stared at the floor. She noted the warm colors and the intricate weave. She willed the tears away. She had learned not to cry in front of Jason, she’d not cried at all when he’d brought that woman, the prostitute, to their home or when he’d killed her in his rage. Nor when she huddled in the shadows and listened to her father agree that yes, they must avoid a scandal, and of course he would take care of it. She’d not even cried when the bullet from Jason’s gun had grazed her cheek. She’d just kept running, wiping the blood off her face as she went.
No, she had not cried. Not once, and she wouldn’t do it now.
“Kerry?” Rick put his hands lightly on her shoulders. “I’m sorry for my cousin’s words. He’s trying to protect me, when I am capable of protecting myself.” With his finger, he lifted her chin so that she had to look him in the eye. “I know what he says is not true.”
Against her vow not to let them fall, tears slid down Kerry’s cheeks. It’s true. I am using you. But, in return, I will let you use me.
Sniffing back her emotions, she lifted a hand to his chest and unbuttoned his shirt. His breath caught as she stroked her hand downward and popped another button and another. She looked down at her hands now, instead of meeting his eyes. His thumb wiped the tears from her cheeks, then his fingers combed through her hair. She leaned forward and kissed the skin and matted hairs on his chest. She expected to feel revulsion for the position she was forced into, but she didn’t. Her tears dried. She reached her hands to his strong shoulders to push the fabric away. She wanted him. Her heart raced and the blood seemed to zing through her body. Her hands roamed downward and her tongue followed. She would go down on him right here in the living room. She loosed the button and lowered the zipper on his khakis. She would lick his balls and suck the head of his cock until his hot come shot into her mouth, and she wouldn’t think. She wouldn’t think at all.
