by Amy Brent
“It’s springtime,” my dad said happily, his gaze settling on the cage we were approaching, “so you know what that means?”
“Baby animals!” my mom exclaimed.
Despite myself, I had to give a grudging smile. Their sunny attitudes were often contagious, though this time, I wasn’t exactly in the mood. The way they finished each other’s sentences, still held hands, and generally treated each other the way counselors taught couples young and old got a bit nauseating after a while. It was almost like they were a two-person act whose success of a marriage I could never match.
“I have to say, I’m excited for this grandchild,” Dad said, making no attempt at a smooth segue into the conversation.
I trained my gaze on the ridiculously fat pig in front of us. He was spread out on his fat back and rolling in the sun. That was what I’d rather be doing now. Oh, to be a pig.
“Any more news from Kathryn?” Mom asked quietly, coming up beside me.
I shrugged. “There’s a doctor’s appointment for the baby on Friday.”
“I take it that means you’re going to it?” Dad asked.
“Joe,” my mom scolded.
“What?” he protested. “This is our grandchild were talking about, Eileen. Our son is seriously considering not going to his own child’s doctor’s appointment? I could hear it in his voice.”
“I was going to go whether you approved or not, Dad,” I snapped, “and I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“See?” my mom said. “I told you, he and Kathryn are having troubles.”
“It’s not like I haven’t been talking to her,” I said to no one in particular. “It just seems that every time I do, I make things worse. Like yesterday, she told me she loved me, and I didn’t say anything back.”
An awkward, halting silence ensued. The pig ahead of us made no effort to break it either. He continued to lie there on his back as good as dead.
“Did you not say it because you don’t feel the same?” my mom asked quietly.
I shook my head angrily.
“No. That’s the stupidest part. I’m fairly certain I love her too. I just messed up. I froze and got all freaked out by the situation. She stormed off before I could explain.”
The audible sighs of relief behind me were ridiculous in their odd harmony.
“That’ll solve things then,” my dad said, like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Behind me, my mom put a hand on my dad’s arm to hush him. She then turned a happy gaze my way.
“Your father’s right, Eric. You can’t keep these feelings to yourself. This is the mother of your child we’re talking about here.”
“I know,” I said, “but everything has happened so fast. It’s been like a whirlwind.”
My mom nodded with understanding, latching her arm through mine. She conveyed me to the next cage, which hosted a pair of alpacas who looked almost as delighted to see us as we were to see them.
“Look!” my dad exclaimed, pointing his finger through one of the squares. “There’s a baby!”
I followed his finger to a little ball of fluff in the corner. A closer look there revealed it was indeed a baby alpaca sitting on its haunches and grinning directly at us.
“How perfect,” my mom said with a little laugh, nudging me. “How far along is Kathryn anyway?”
“Seven weeks,” I told them.
“That far?” my mom said, her voice showing more excitement than ever. She adjusted her sun hat, although the extra shade did nothing to obscure her exuberant expression. “Oh my.”
As we walked passed the other animal cages, I found the coil of tension in my stomach crumbling more and more. My parents were infecting me with their enthusiasm again. And yet, it couldn’t fully supersede the anxiety I felt about Friday. I was going to see Kathryn, but what if it wasn’t Kathryn at all?
What if I’d ruined things for good that night and killed the Kathryn I now recognized I loved so much? What if there was no way back from this?
Chapter 33
Kathryn
He showed up at my desk wearing nothing but those silky black boxers I loved.
“Eric, what are you—”
“Shut up and sit down,” he commanded, slamming the door behind him and locking it before striding up to me.
In shock, I could only gasp. He kissed the gasp right out of my throat, his tongue pressing it back down.
“I’ve been thinking about you,” he declared.
He lifted me up onto my desk, and I found I couldn’t refuse any longer. There was something irresistibly insistent about this Eric, and resisting wouldn’t bode well.
He pulled me up, tore off my shirt and pants, and made me stand there. He then strutted around me slowly, feasting on my nakedness with his eyes.
His voice came out hoarse and tortured. “Hell, have I ever missed you.”
And then, from behind me, he pounced. Throwing his arms around my front, he slipped one finger between my legs and the other around my throat. He held me in place while he enjoyed the wetness of my pussy.
“Mmmmmm,” one of us said. Or both of us maybe. My mind was a jumble of sensations right now.
As his fingers explored my depths, his other hand moved up and around my shoulders, squeezing and massaging them. As I strained my neck around to give him a kiss, he pushed my face back.
“You kiss me when I want you to,” he stated simply. While his one hand swirled around my pussy, his other one lifted my ass. Giving it a good resounding spank, he then gripped it tight.
When a moan slipped out of my mouth, Eric’s hand shot up to clap over my lips.
“Shh,” he murmured into the shell of my ear. “You don’t want to be caught, do you?”
He followed that up with a hurried series of fingerings into me. Pleasure sliced through me and my knees crumbled. Gripping my ass, Eric hoisted me up again.
“I shouldn’t make you wait any longer, now should I?” he muttered thoughtfully to himself.
When he finally peeled off my soaked-through thong, my whole body trembled with what was to come.
How was I going to stay quiet when every part of me was already screaming in ecstasy? When Eric lifted me to him, my whole body went slack. And then, he entered me.
“Buzz, buzz,” he said.
I gaped at him, and then it occurred to me that my eyes were closed. Opening them, I found myself in my tangle of sheets at home. An upset groan spilled out of me. Seriously?
Then, a flood of relief followed. Truthfully, would I really have wanted to fuck Eric at my workplace when there was a 99 percent chance we would have been discovered? In fact, for that matter, did I even want to be fucking Eric again at all?
The guilty heat between my legs suggested I did. As much as it was probably bad for me, as much as I should’ve known better, I clearly did. I wanted Eric. I wanted him inside me and all over me. I wanted him fucking me rough and mercilessly, softly and gently, and every which way—how we had already and new ways we hadn’t tried yet.
It wasn’t really my fault, I tried reasoning with myself. After almost nearly eight straight weeks of constant sex every other day, it had now been almost five days since we’d made love. Was it really my fault then that I was having nasty dreams about him when I had all these pent-up hormones in me?
My lips tightened into a scowl. Screw that line of reasoning. I wasn’t sure I even wanted to be talking to him, plain and simple, and yet now I was touching myself to thoughts of him?
I rifled under my bed and produced good old Mr. Rabbit.
Just because I was going to finish out the dream I’d started didn’t mean I had to think about Eric.
So, as I pressed Mr. Rabbit’s pulsing head to my clit, I didn’t. I thought of the sexy handyman who’d come to our apartment and fixed the sink once. I thought about my crush from high school, Wentworth Phillips, who I’d never even talked to. I thought about Brad Pitt when he was younger. And yet, all this left me cold. As soon as I s
tarted imagining Eric in their place, though, there was no stopping the fantasy.
In fact, he was here right now.
He caught me with the vibrator and a smile flickered over his lips.
“You poor, stifled girl,” he said without a trace of pity.
He took the vibrator and flung it across the room, then replaced it with himself. His finger mashed into my clit as his mouth attacked mine. His tongue went past my gums and teeth like he was excavating for something. I was practically choked with my own pleasure.
While his thumb mashed into and around my clit, the rest of his fingers explored my pussy. They played and tugged on the lips, mashing them into me. Then, an evil smile coming over his face, Eric picked me up.
“You know what I want to do now?” he asked.
Before I could answer, he carried me straight out of the apartment. Somehow, Sadie wasn’t there. My struggling was in vain, too. Eric tossed me into the elevator and the door shut behind us. He hit the penthouse button, but when we were halfway there, he jammed the stop button instead.
“I’ve got more important things to do,” he growled into my neck. Then, hoisting me onto the rail that ran around the elevator, he filled my quivering hole with just what I needed.
“Oh fuck.” I gasped with relief as he stabbed his angry boner into me. My body flopped onto his gratefully, but he was just getting started.
Although, he didn’t waste any time. No, as slow as Eric’s fucking had been last time, this time it was fast. Fast and selfish. His dick was a jackhammer and I was the hole that was serving its purpose. In and out, in and out, in and out. On and on and on. He was now gritting his teeth with pent-up pleasure. When his right hand shot up to my neck and choked me, it released the remaining tension from my body.
Already, I was gasping and on the precipice of pleasure, and he was pushing me further, and further, and further.
At some point, the elevator creaked into motion, but we were too far gone. Jutting the last of his joy through me, Eric let completely loose.
As his dick jerked out its last flails of glory, my pussy soaked it up eagerly. His final spurts rammed me into an orgasm of my own, one that swirled me onto him and made my feet fall out from under me.
Somewhere, a button was pushed. Eric swore under his breath. Then I opened my eyes.
No Eric. Of course. This was another half dream. half fantasy. The Kleenex in my hand was completely wet and the vibrator was still in place, not thrown across the floor. This, what had just happened, hadn’t happened, and that was for the best, not the worst. That was a good thing. And yet, if that was such a good thing, why did I feel so disappointed?
***
Today wasn’t my typical workday. As disturbing as this morning’s events had been, right now I was actually a bit excited. I always got that way before a new case, but this one was a bit different. I was getting paid to get my hair done by my current suspect, the banker’s wife who was suspected of fraud—Cecelia Vergere.
“Kathryn, how lovely to see you!!” Cecelia said in a voice that was way too ecstatic to be real.
“Cecelia,” I said, accepting her prim hug furtively. “It’s great to see you too.”
My gaze went around the brand-new studio. She had certainly shelled out a serious amount of money on this place. The floors were slick white tiles, while the walls were tinted blue glass. It gave the appearance of a futuristic bar or something. I liked it.
“The renovations are nice, no?” Cecelia said, sweeping her fuchsia acrylic nails around the room.
I smiled with a nod.
“Enough chitchat, right?” she said with a twenty-watt smile. “Let’s get down to business.”
She led me to a chair of a black shiny material, on which I sat down. Across from me was a long line of mirrors.
“So,” she said, her fingernails running through my dark strands, “what exactly did you have in mind?”
I barely heard her question because my nervous eyes were taking in her own hairstyle.
Ridiculous would have been an understatement. The frizzy, platinum concoction on top of her head could only be described as preposterous. I gulped. What exactly had I gotten myself into?
My gaze dipped to her spideresque fake eyelashes, her puffy, slug-like lips, and her two melon breasts, which looked as bolted on as the smile still on her face.
“Something crazy?” she asked with a big wink.
“No,” I stuttered. “Nothing too crazy. Maybe just—”
Her fake smile sagged with every new word I said.
“Maybe just highlights?” I said, regretting it as soon as it left my mouth.
She nodded enthusiastically, as if she’d suggested it herself.
“Highlights,” she said.
A refusal was halfway out of my throat when she hurried off to get supplies.
Glaring at my ashen-faced reflection in the mirror, I resigned myself to whatever monstrosity she was going convert my hair into. After all, this was supposed to be for a case. I was supposed to befriend this woman, not get the hairstyle of the century. If I had only permitted her to trim my split ends, she would have hated that, and then how would I have gotten close enough to nab her for the crime?
Surprisingly, Cecelia was a quick worker. She unveiled a whole bunch of foils, talking about everything and anything as her hands flitted about my strands.
“Yes, siree,” she said, easily. “It’s just little old me here. Always was my dream to have my own salon.”
“And quite a salon it is,” I said truthfully. “Must have cost a pretty penny though.”
She let out a nervous little laugh, carefully fixing a foil near the front of my face.
“Darling, you have no idea. I just about had to commit a crime to get all this!”
We laughed together at that one. Already, I could tell, this was one woman who was most probably guilty.
By the end of it, Cecelia and I were as good as BFFs. During the course of the appointment, she’d gone on to reveal that she really did like vacations and her little dog just as much as her Facebook posts had suggested. We even promised to get together for some bubble tea later in the week.
Then came the moment of truth when my poor hair was unveiled. When she blow-dried that last piece and arranged all the hair around my face, I let out a gasp.
“I know, right?” Cecelia said, twirling up a perfectly highlighted piece triumphantly. “Frankly, I’m a bit surprised at how well this turned out myself.”
Although hearing what she said didn’t exactly inspire confidence, I wasn’t in a position to argue. After all, the woman in the mirror with the face-flattering highlights was me. I looked damn good.
Standing, I did a little twirl, enjoying the way the light played on the different strands. What would Eric think about it?
Frowning, I pushed the thought out of my mind. Right now, I was on a case. No point in thinking about the inevitable I would have to face on Friday. He’d already ruined my morning enough. Right now, this was for me.
Chapter 34
Eric
Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up. Don’t mess up.
This annoying mantra had become my brain’s favorite in the past twenty minutes as I sat stuck in backed-up traffic on my way to Briar Hospital.
I cracked my thumb in irritation. I already knew not to mess up. Why couldn’t my brain get the memo?
Maybe because I had so royally messed up last time. Whatever. I wasn’t going to this time. No way. These past few days had been an exercise in self-control, not calling Kathryn and begging her to see me. Not to mention planning out just what I’d say and how I’d say it. I was not going to screw that up now. Not for anything.
Or maybe it was because of this brutal traffic that was showing no sign of letting up. Craning my neck, I could just make out the exit sign on the shoulder a ways ahead. If I could just reach that exit.
A glance at my phone found that I had ten minutes. Shit. If I could just reach that exit, I could g
et out of this mess and still make it in time.
When the line of cars finally crawled its way there, I took the exit and sped off in the direction of the hospital. Some benevolent deity made an older couple leave a prime end spot in the parking lot just as I was pulling in. So, doing the fastest parking job of the century, I raced into the hospital.
Making sense of the signs, various wings, and similar-faced receptionists wasn’t easy, but I made it there—just in time to be five minutes late.
Luckily, she was in the waiting room, her arms wrapped around her chest. She looked different, and not just due to the highlights in her hair, but the set of her lips when she saw me. It was as if she weren’t seeing me at all.
Nevertheless, I sat beside her, trying my hand at a smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” she said without turning to look at me. No smile either.
“I like the hair,” I said.
“Thanks.”
I stared at the side of her head for another minute or so, willing her to look at me. When that failed, I finally said, “Can we talk later?”
No discernible change in her tight features.
“We don’t have to.” Only her lips moved as she said it. There was still no expression in her eyes. Had I really pushed away the Kathryn I’d come to love so well for good?
“I know we don’t have to,” I said, growing more annoyed by the second, “but I want to. I want to talk to about this, Kathryn. I screwed up, okay?”
Before she could respond, the nurse over the intercom announced, “Kathryn Munn. Room 1A.”
Kathryn got up, and I did too. We headed for the first room on the right.
Inside, everything played out with an eerie, almost dreamlike quality. Although I answered the odd question, my presence seemed to be that of a spectator, one which neither Kathryn nor the doctor paid much heed to.
The doctor was pleasant, though he looked like he belonged on the set of the Brady Bunch or something. Nevertheless, he was extremely competent. He took Kathryn’s blood pressure and heart rate and drew blood from her. Then he had her pee in a cup and explained gaily what all this was for, although I was hardly listening. I was busy trying to get Kathryn to meet my eyes so I could see how she felt about all this. But it was no use.
