Come To Me

by Genevieve Ash

  “Tell me more. I want all the gory details.” Megan’s eyes were sparkling with interest.

  “I swear I can’t even explain some of the things he wanted to do to me. He told me that he was not for the faint of heart.” Amanda giggled self-consciously as the blush spread across her cheeks.

  “Ooh, a bad boy, huh? That makes me tingle! You’ve always wanted one of those.”

  “Well, he’s not real and we’re here, so let’s go inside,” Amanda said firmly.

  Megan had a tendency to go off on long-winded tangents. Scattered as she was, Amanda was usually able to rein her in with firm but gentle commands in much the same way she handled raising her when they were both still children.

  The Pink Horse was a salvage yard and curiosity shop located on the less fashionable side of town. Amanda was a regular here and, when the small bell above the door gave its tinny ring, Peter, the owner, looked up from his work. Smiling, he greeted her by name.

  “Amanda, darling, what brings you out on such a blustery day?” Kissing the air beside both of Amanda’s cheeks was just one of the courtly gestures Peter affected. Impeccably dressed, Amanda had always thought his outside appearance contradicted the man inside those well-cut clothes. Though slightly peculiar, Peter was always friendly and was one of the most knowledgeable junkers Amanda knew.

  “Sometimes a girl just has to do a little shopping.” Amanda turned slightly to include Megan. “Peter Kimball, this is my sister, Megan.”

  “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Megan. You are just as lovely as your sister.”

  Megan extended her hand and dimpled with pleasure as Peter gave a slight bow before barely brushing his lips over her knuckles, smiling generously all the while.

  “Looking for anything special, Amanda? Can I interest you in a taxidermy squirrel or perhaps a brass incense burner?”

  “I’m just here for some doorknobs, thanks. I know where to find them.” Amanda assured him with a smile.

  “How are your renovations going at the old Millbrook mansion? I certainly hope you will invite me for a tour when you are finished. That old place was really something in its heyday,” Peter’s eyes took on a faraway look.

  “Well, Peter, you certainly look fabulous for your age if you saw it in its heyday!” Amanda replied with a slight chuckle.

  “Of course, I meant from what I have read and the pictures that I’ve seen.” Peter flushed, sounding curt.

  “I’m just teasing you, Peter,” Amanda quickly soothed her friend.

  “Well, make yourselves at home, ladies. I’ll be at my worktable if you have any questions.” Peter turned back to his current project.

  Amanda and Megan strolled through the shop, laughing at some of the more eccentric items and admiring the many beautiful antiques. It seemed that there was no rhyme or reason to the displays. Everything was jumbled together in the dusty old shop, but somehow it just added to the charm.

  Amanda carried the doorknobs she’d selected and a couple of ornate wall sconces for her dining room up to the front counter. Peter sat near the front window, apparently looking for the potter’s mark on a handmade vase.

  His worktable was covered with odds and ends of all sorts. To the untrained eye, it appeared to be a jumble of junk, but Amanda knew better. There was a bright light focused on a large stand magnifier, illuminating the Art Deco piece.

  Peter’s glasses were perched near the end of his nose and, without breaking his concentration, Peter pointed toward the back corner of the shop. Amanda glanced behind her and saw a curtained doorway with a sign overhead that read KEEP OUT. A thickly braided rope hung loosely across the front of the tattered dusty curtains.

  Puzzled, Amanda turned back to Peter, “What is it, Peter? I found what I needed.”

  “Are you sure, Amanda? Perhaps you are mistaken.” His eyes remained on his work, while his tone was curiously commanding.

  Amanda shrugged and pondered Peter’s cryptic message as they approached the back of the store. Unhooking the rope, she pushed aside what appeared to have once been a pair of red velvet drapes and held them back for Megan. The dust snowed down as she entered the dimly lit space.

  Ducking her head suddenly, Amanda sneezed three times. It was always three times, she didn’t know why. Looking up, she saw what Peter had sent her back for immediately. She wanted to go toward it, but she couldn’t make her legs move. The color drained from her face. Watching her with alarm, Megan steadied her by grabbing her elbow.

  “What is it?” Megan asked anxiously, concerned for her sister. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “Maybe I did, Sis. Maybe I did.” Amanda was shocked to see an exact replica of her ballroom mirrors. She didn’t know how Peter could have possibly known that she needed one. This was just a little too weird. There had to be a logical explanation.

  Megan helped Amanda carry the large gilt framed mirror to the front of the store.

  “Peter, how did you know? Peter?” Megan and Amanda checked all over the store, but he was nowhere to be found. Amanda saw a note on one of her doorknobs. “The mirror is on the house. Handle with care.”

  Chapter Two

  The sounds of Billie Holiday floated on warm vanilla scented air. Amanda always baked when she was stressed. And if the apricot scones, almond croissants, and warm macaroons were any indication of her stress level, then she was a basket case.

  After recovering from the shock of the mirror, the sisters had a lovely lunch at their favorite cafe. The rest of their shopping spree had been postponed, since the wine that accompanied their meal made a nap seem like a more viable option. Although, once home, Amanda feared sleep would bring her dream lover back. So she decided to bake instead.

  When complete exhaustion settled in for a long winter’s nap, in spite of her best efforts, Amanda thought a warm bath might help ease her into a peaceful sleep. One of the things that had sold her on this old money pit was the clawfoot tub in the master bath.

  Billows of steam carried the scent of lavender through the black and white tiled bathroom. Candlelight danced in a draft from the old pebbled window. Amanda sighed loudly as she slipped into the warm caress of the water and let her eyes drift shut. Relaxing, she wished for him to come to her. His eyes were the first things to come into view. Tonight, the warm hazel was splattered with flecks of green and gold. His skin glistened from the steam curling through the air. His broad muscular chest had a dusting of golden hair, matching the trail of hair leading down. As her gaze followed that glistening trail, she couldn’t help but notice his obvious arousal.

  As Cameron walked slowly toward the tub, the glint in his eyes told Amanda that he had some fantasies of his own. He stepped into the tub and slid down behind Amanda cradling her body gently in his arms. Her hips fit snugly between his thighs and his erection pushed insistently against her lower back. His large hands more than covered her full breasts as his thumb gently stroked a pink nipple into a tight bud. Amanda arched her back, moaning softly as his other hand drifted down toward her hip and brushed against the reddish curls nestled at the junction of her thighs.

  Amanda held perfectly still. She could barely breathe from the anticipation of his touch. He pushed the warm water gently, creating waves to caress her delicate flesh, while still tugging and pinching her tender nipple. Amanda felt the heat pooling in her core. She was pushing her hips up, trying to make contact with his hand. She needed to feel his touch, to stop the ache she felt building inside her core.

  “Patience, my little bird. I promise the journey will be just as amazing as the destination,” Cameron whispered softly in her ear.

  “I can’t wait. Please touch me now!” Amanda gasped softly.

  She had managed to remain a virgin at twenty-eight only because of her stubbornness. Her insistence on waiting for The One made her friends crazy. Even her mother had suggested she seek a little extracurricular activity. But Amanda was not having any of that. The thought had crossed her mind once or twice that she cou
ld take matters into her own hands but it just would not be the same. Besides, some of her dreams brought her so close to climax that she knew if she were just patient, one was bound to carry her over the edge. But this fantasy was the most arousing experience she’d had by far. It seemed so real. She had no idea where it was coming from. Perhaps, I can actually think my way to an orgasm, she pondered and then laughed at her foolish thought.

  “My sweet Amanda, relax and I will help you. I told you that I am here for your pleasure,” Cameron continued his caress while whispering softly in her ear.

  “But what if I am not truly ready for all the other nonsense you were going on about last night?” Amanda asked in weak protest.

  As if to prove she was indeed ready, Cam’s fingers gently brushed the swollen bud of flesh that would swiftly bring her to the heights of ecstasy. He applied more pressure as Amanda moved her hips, moaning and straining, trying to press his hand deeper against her inflamed clit. She was begging for release. He brought her close and then pulled back, building her desire to intolerable levels. Her skin was flushed from the heat of the water and her arousal. Her nipples puckered in the cool air. Breathing short and rapid breaths, she could feel every nerve ending in her body coming alive.

  Cameron chuckled softly as he gazed down at her writhing form. He knew deep down that he had won a chance with her. She would never be able to resist him now. Freedom might just be closer than he thought.

  But for some strange reason, he actually wanted to pleasure her and he couldn’t understand why. He had never felt that way with the others. Once he had realized that they were not going to break the curse, he wanted nothing more to do with them.

  “What is so funny?” Amanda gasped as she opened her eyes, pushing his hand away.

  “Not funny, my love, amazing.” Cameron smiled at her deeply.

  “Oh, really what is so amazing? Your ability to turn me into some kind of sex-starved nympho? I will never let a man control me through sex. Certainly not a man like you! You are just the kind of man that…well, well—” Amanda sputtered as she turned her head to meet his gaze.

  “Well what, dear heart?” His patronizing tone seemed to fuel Amanda’s anger.

  “And quit with the hokey terms of endearment. I am not now nor will I ever be your ‘anything.’ Got it? Nor will I ever be interested in losing my long-kept virginity to you.” Amanda’s body went rigid against his with her barely stifled fury.

  A virgin, yes! Cam’s mind raced. She had to be the one. Finding a virgin was half the battle. Now all he had to do was convince her to give it to him—a total stranger.

  “We have just taken this to a whole new level. I see that I will have to change my approach,” Cameron muttered half to himself.

  “You’ll have to change a lot more than your approach,” Amanda’s stubbornness was kicking into high gear.

  “Okay, Sweetheart, this is your fantasy. Have it your way, but tonight when you are alone in that big bed and cannot sleep, remember how it felt when I cupped your sex in my palm, pressing against your soft flesh, your swollen clit aching beneath my thumb—you were so close.”

  “Enough!” Amanda commanded as she dunked her head under the now tepid water. Surfacing, she pushed her tangled hair back from her face and rose from the bath.

  ****

  The morning once again brought bright sunshine, making the frigid temperatures a little more bearable. As Amanda walked on the path toward the water, she wondered at the beauty of the frozen, snow covered lake. A few shanties dotted the landscape as the ice fishermen tried for a day’s catch. Although she would rather be on a nice warm beach, the brisk air was clearing her head. When she rounded the point at the lighthouse, she had finally made a decision. Frightened or not, she would confront her fears head on. Tonight, she would go to the empty ballroom and see what kind of trouble she could find.

  Arriving back at the mansion, her crew was already working to restore her dining room ceiling. The egg-and-dart molding was being painstakingly recreated and the walls re-plastered to a smooth even finish. A local artist touched up the faded mural of an English hunting scene. In contrast to the pastoral scene, the artist sang along with classic rock tunes blasting throughout the downstairs.

  Vince de Stefano had been the foreman of many of her restoration crews in the past and had been a friend of the family since before she was born. Since Amanda had lost her dad when she was only eight, she enjoyed the time spent with Vince, hashing out the details for reclaiming the house. He was a father figure to her and she felt safe with him around.

  Cliff, Amanda’s dad, had been an easy going, regular kind of guy. He had worked the same factory job for twenty years, was married to the same women, and even drove the same car. The only thing he’d showed any enthusiasm for was spending time with his baby girl, Amanda.

  Amanda’s mother, Joanne, had always thought that they would leave the small Ohio town someday, that she would move in different social circles, but it never happened. She was only thirty-two when Cliff died in the fire that took all they had. He had gone back in to save Amanda, tossing her out her bedroom window into the shrubs below. Unfortunately, the explosion that ripped through the gas line in the next moment blew the roof off before he could escape. Amanda never quite got over the feeling that somehow she had killed her daddy, and neither had her mother who had been out with Megan when the fire took everything.

  “Mandy!” Vince boomed as he saw her shaking the snow off her boots. “What are you doing out on such a cold day?”

  “Uncle Vinnie, how do you think I keep up this fabulous figure?” Amanda said, rolling her eyes. She did try and exercise every day. She refused to give up baked goods so she had to do something.

  “Yes, I see you have been baking again. Do you want to talk to your Uncle Vinnie? By the way, those macaroons are amazing!” Vince smiled and rubbed his belly.

  “Thanks, I hope you started the coffee. My nose is frozen.” Amanda unwrapped the long multicolored scarf from around her neck and hung her coat on the old oak hall tree. She poured two cups of coffee and popped some wheat bread in the toaster.

  “Toast, with all those goodies out there?” Vince looked at her quizzically.

  “Uncle Vinnie, you know that stuff goes right to my hips. Don’t worry, I have some pastries for you.” She set the coffee and pastry in front of him and turned back to get her own breakfast.

  “Mandy girl, you need to let you hair down once in a while. You’re too uptight. Live a little. Have a croissant—it won’t kill you—but being miserable just might.” He tried for a light tone but the concern in his eyes ruined the effect.

  “What do you mean miserable? I’m perfectly happy here. I have a job I love, a soon-to-be fabulous home, great friends, a wonderful family—for the most part!” She was surprised by Vince’s perception of her life.

  “And what about love?” He quizzed her, looking sad. “I’m worried about you, Sweetie. You’re twenty-eight years old, that’s practically an old maid.”

  “Old maid? Don’t you start on me, too!” Amanda cried, exasperated now. “Twenty-eight is hardly an old maid. I have plenty of time. Besides, I don’t need a man to make me happy. I can do that all on my own. Look at the freedom I have. So far, I haven’t met anyone worth giving that up for.”

  “Freedom is highly overrated. Especially when you have no one to share it with,” He added gently, stealing another scone.

  “I love you, Uncle Vinnie, but you have to quit worrying about me,” she said firmly. “I’m just waiting for the right guy to come along. I know exactly what I want and, when I find him, I’ll grab him. Besides, I have a mysterious dream lover who’s keeping me company.” Amanda blushed as she realized how completely crazy and a little too personal that must sound.

  “You’ve always been a dreamer, Mandy. I’ll give you that.” With a quick kiss on her cheek, Vince brushed the crumbs off his shirt and headed out of the kitchen to check on the crew’s progress. She could hear them all
carrying on noisily in the foyer.

  “Hey, Amanda,” Vince’s assistant Will called out. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  “What are you guys up to now? Trying to get out of a day’s work?” she joked. Will was easy going and she enjoyed teasing him.

  “I’m serious. I was up in the old ballroom and thought I caught a glimpse of you in one of the mirrors, uh, dancing with some guy.” Will had a sheepish grin on his face and Amanda felt a niggling of fear creeping in.

  “Yeah, so?” Vinnie’s voice was gruff as his patience seemed to wane.

  “I was going to leave so they wouldn’t be embarrassed, but…” he continued, keeping his gaze at her shoes. “When I turned back, you were both gone,” Will said, a confused look on his face.

  She stood in the doorway, sipping her coffee and listening to Will. She thought that she might actually faint as the blood drained from her face.

  “What on earth would she be embarrassed about?” Vince piped in.

  “Well, boss, they weren’t actually dancing, if you know what I mean,” he added with a sly wink.

  The coffee cup fell from her hand and shattered on the hardwood floor. Amanda’s body slowly slid down the jamb of the heavy pocket door.

  She was grateful that Vince helped her upstairs and tucked her into bed after falling to the floor. She told him she must be overly tired from all the long hours she’d been putting in. He had sent the crew home early after a stern lecture about snooping around the house.

  Amanda woke late that afternoon to the wheezing and coughing of the old iron radiators. The sun was already beginning its dip into the frozen lake, casting long shadows across the landscape as darkness came early this time of year. Dragging her lethargic body out of the bed and down the stairs, she paused in the foyer at the clanging coming from the back of the house. Panicking, she grabbed a heavy brass vase that stood on the round table at the center of the room. Creeping quietly through the parlor, her weapon raised, she suddenly bumped into Megan, almost cracking her sister on the skull with the heavy urn. They screamed simultaneously and Amanda’s cat arched her back and took off for the basement.