Vivienne's Guilt

by Heather M. Orgeron

  “You wanna go downstairs and have a drink?” I ask, needing to get out of this room before I forget myself.

  I feel her nod into my chest. “Sure, just let me take my medicine first.”

  “Did she go to sleep okay?” I ask Vivienne while pouring us each a glass of her favorite wine. I’ve never really cared for the taste, but I need something to take the edge off.

  Nodding, Viv answers, “Yeah. I think she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.” Tears trickle down her swollen cheeks. “It’s my fault,” she whispers, her voice breaking.

  “What’s your fault?” I ask as I hand her one of the glasses and take a seat beside her on the couch. “What happened tonight with Tillie couldn’t have been your fault.”

  She swirls the ruby liquid around in the glass, staring absently ahead. “I yelled at her, Reid,” she says, choking on a sob. “I-I screamed at her to leave me alone,” she cries, gripping the glass with white-knuckled ferocity. “I’ve never spoken to her that way. She’s just a baby...She’s my baby, and I could’ve lost her tonight.”

  Reaching out, I take hold of her free hand, attempting to offer comfort. Vivienne relaxes into the couch so I take it a little further and begin rubbing the pad of my thumb over her delicate knuckles. When I pass over her wedding ring, a pang of guilt pierces my chest. I drop her hand, backing away just a little. I wish that I could make my conscience forget that she isn’t mine to hold. Vivienne doesn’t seem to notice. Her face is blank and her eyes vacant. She seems completely lost in thought. It’s almost as if she’s sleeping with her eyes open. But then, in a pained voice, barely above a whisper, she says, “If you hadn’t seen her...Reid...if you hadn’t seen her, I would have nothing left to live for, and this time, it would’ve been my own fault.”

  My body shudders at the thought. “You couldn’t have known she’d run off like that, Viv. I mean, yeah, you probably shouldn’t have screamed at her, but we all make mistakes. We all do things that we end up regretting. Let’s just be thankful that she’s okay and not dwell on things that didn’t happen.”

  She nods, chewing on her lip, but says nothing. The two of us sit in companionable silence, ruminating over the day’s events. We finish the first bottle of wine then pop open another.

  At some point during the night, she ends up pressed against my side with her head resting on my chest. I’m not sure how she got there, but I’m too selfish to push her away, and it feels better than it should when I wrap my arms around her and rest my head in her floral scented hair.

  I begin to doze in and out of sleep, and when I feel soft lips feathering kisses down my jaw, I’m sure that it must be a dream. But when I open my eyes, there she is...kneeling over me, her wild hair like a curtain framing her beautiful face. My pulse races and that sinking feeling returns in my chest. I swallow the guilt threatening to steal this moment and let my emotions take the lead. Desire, like a wildfire, blazes through my veins, burning through everything in its path until nothing remains but this heat. All-consuming need surmounts any rational thought. I couldn’t stop if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. Vivienne presses her mouth against mine, and when my lips instinctively part, she slips her warm tongue between them.

  I kiss her back, gripping her hair in my hands. Our kiss is long and languid—unhurried. I cherish every second that she allows me to pretend that this is okay. Vivienne whimpers against my lips, and it is the most erotic sound that I have ever heard. Every moan, every touch, I savor, burning it into my memory as if it is the last time I will ever have this chance. More likely than not, it is. Our tongues twirl in sync as if they’ve done this dance a thousand times before, yet my heart has never felt so heavy.

  Vivienne begins to grind her body against mine, and I try to tell myself to stop her, that this needs to end here, but I’m too far gone to be the one to end it, and when she whispers “I need you” into my ear, there is not a chance in hell that I won’t give her what we both so desperately crave.

  Vivienne

  I wake in the middle of the night with my face in Abbott’s lap. It’s dark, and I’m disoriented. I try to remember how we ended up here, sleeping in our clothes...but I have nothing.

  His hard bulge presses into my cheek, and my body begins to pulse with desire. I’m overwhelmed with a need to feel close to him. My heart feels so heavy...so sad...and I can’t recall why. There’s an ache in my chest and the need for him to fix it—to make me feel better—is so strong.

  I run my fingers over the mesh fabric of his shorts, tracing his hard erection, and feeling it grow harder still. Crawling over him, I run my hands up his torso, tracing the ridges of his abs and then lean in, trailing kisses along his jaw to his ear. I nibble and suck on his lobe, and when I make my way back up his jaw, brilliant blue irises connect with mine.

  He appears a bit startled at first, but it doesn’t take long before his eyes blaze with the same hunger that I know he can see reflected in mine. I’m so hot...so hungry, and when I kiss his lips, and he opens to me, I plunge in, swirling my tongue around his.

  Abbott groans, fisting his hands into my hair, tugging gently as he takes control, and I am more than happy to relinquish it. He kisses me devoutly, worshiping me slowly, spending long moments exploring my mouth.

  My body trembles with need, and I begin to rotate my hips, grinding my wet heat into his hardness...My head falls back, and I whimper as he lowers his mouth to my chest, sucking my breast through the thin material of my cotton dress. His hands ghost up my legs, eliciting a chill as his fingertips skim my sides, lifting my dress over my head and tossing it to the floor.

  “Oh God,” I moan when he yanks my strapless bra down, taking one of my nipples into his mouth and circling it with his tongue. My head begins to swim...dizzy from the wine and lost in sensation.

  “Is this really happening?” he murmurs, lavishing my other breast. “Viv,” he rasps out as his lips graze a path up the front of my neck.

  He’s being so gentle—too gentle—and I just want him to fuck this day out of my mind. To make me forget for a blissful moment how badly I screwed up.

  I rock harder, hoping he will take the hint. He usually reads my signals so well, but he places his hands on my waist and slows my movements, whispering into my ear, “Don’t...just...just let me enjoy you.”

  I can’t. Not tonight. My eyes well up and a feeling of desperation consumes me. “Please,” I cry, blinking away tears. “Just make it go away. Make me forget...”

  There’s a moment of hesitation, and then as if a switch has been flipped, he delves into my mouth, kissing me with a ferocity I’ve never experienced from him. It’s exactly what I need. He cups the back of my head, and his kisses are hard and bruising. Quick shallow thrusts of his tongue followed by deep almost choking plunges. It’s relentless and unforgiving. It’s primal. He tugs my bottom lip between his teeth and moans into my mouth. And still I want more. I want him deep enough to cleanse my soul. Hard enough to punish me. Forceful enough to make me forget.

  He wraps his arm around my waist, and in one fluid motion flips me onto my back, his mouth never leaving mine. “So beautiful,” he growls against my lips before rising to his knees and slipping a finger beneath the black lace band of my thong. Torturously slow, he runs his finger back and forth along my middle while making love to me with his eyes. And just when I think I will explode from desire, he rolls the tiny scraps of fabric down my legs and stands...and I feel his absence everywhere.

  I stare with bated breath at the way his muscles contract as he wrenches his t-shirt over his head, and when his impressive erection springs free from his shorts, my entire body clenches with need. “Please,” I beg, biting my bottom lip and tasting blood. I slip my tongue out and run it along my lip, savoring the taste of our savage kisses...wanting more...needing more.

  He slides his hand up and down his shaft, readying himself for me. I am so wound up, I swear that I will die if I don’t get some relief soon. As if he can read my mind, he acquiesces,
wrenching my legs apart and kneeling before me. He grabs onto my thighs, lifting my center, and rubs his cock along my sensitive flesh.

  Each stroke of his warm skin against mine is the sweetest torture. It’s pleasure and pain...heaven and hell. It’s I can’t take anymore and please don’t stop. His jaw tightens, matching the reaction in my core. It’s as if every nerve ending in my body is collecting in my center, manifesting into a tight little ball. A grenade, ready to detonate, and he holds the pin.

  I whimper and writhe, clutching the sides of the couch, bucking against him, trying unsuccessfully to force him inside. I am nothing but sensation...nowhere but this moment.

  His eyes are fixed on his task...watching with a lustful gaze as if he could do this all day...I can’t...The more he teases, the more furious I become. My heartbeat pounds in my ears and my breaths are coming in shallow pants.

  When he finally leans over me, and I can feel his head resting against my opening, I begin to shake with silent tears. “Please,” I cry.

  His face falls at the sight of my tears. “Oh God. Are you okay? Did you change your mind?” he asks, and with a pained expression adds, “We can still...we can still stop.”

  Stop? Has he lost his mind? “Just. Fuck. Me...” I pant. “Now.”

  With a renewed vigor and a triumphant smirk, he reaches between us and places his cock at my entrance. “Ready?” he rasps.

  I raise my hips, forcing the tip to breach my entrance, and he releases a low chuckle before pushing the rest of the way inside.

  This. This is what I’ve been reaching for. This closeness. This fullness. This connection that only comes from having him buried deep inside me. There is nothing more healing than the feeling of our hearts beating between our chests and our centers pulsing as one.

  He pulls back and begins to thrust in and out in long, hard strokes...pounding my head into the arm of the couch. I can feel him everywhere...stretching me...filling me. I’m so close.

  “Harder,” I moan, needing the pain as much, if not more, than the pleasure.

  He circles his thumb over my nub and gives me everything he has. Long punishing strokes. So thick. So deep. So hard.

  I dig my nails into his back, holding on for dear life as we pull the pin and explode together.

  Gone are the feelings of sadness and guilt as we lie in a tangle of limbs and heartbeats. Breathy sighs and butterfly kisses. We bask in this blissful nothingness that only exists when we come together and purge our souls.

  My eyes flutter open in the darkness, and I’m feeling a sense of déjà vu when I realize that, just like in my dream, my head is resting on a man’s thigh. But unlike in my dream, this man can’t be Abbott...The gaping hole in my heart is a constant reminder that can’t be possible.

  That dream, though...it was so real. I can actually taste the copper on my lips and feel the slickness between my legs. My first wet dream. Holy fuck! I had my first wet dream laying in the lap of another man...my nephew at that. Damn, Viv...how much farther can you fall?

  The night before slowly comes back to me, along with a pounding headache. The lake...Tillie...Reid saving her and the consumption of way too much wine. We must have passed out drinking and my subconscious manipulated reality into my heart’s desire.

  I need to get up and clean this mess before Matilda wakes up. I should go in and check on her...

  Careful not to wake Reid, I lift myself off him very slowly, bracing my aching head with my hand. The room spins. Oh God...the nausea. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. I inhale and get a whiff of wine. The smell of sex is evidently burned into my mind because I smell that too and begin to retch.

  “You all right?” he asks, placing a comforting hand on my back.

  Still reeling from the fact that I just mentally screwed my husband in this man’s lap, it startles me and I jump up from the couch. “Yeah...um, too much wine,” I offer with a shrug as I begin collecting our wine glasses and the rest of our mess from last night.

  “Let me help you with that.” Reid grabs the empty wine bottles that are cradled in the crooks of my arms. His hand brushes my arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Jesus, my body is still so worked up from that dream. I’m skittish and acting like a bumbling idiot.

  Reid follows me into the kitchen and disposes of the bottles while I wash our dishes. Then suddenly, I feel him behind me. Close behind me—too close. My body tenses as he leans into my ear and whispers, “That was some dream you had last night, wasn’t it?”

  I freeze. He knows...He knows about the dream. Oh my God. Of course he knows about the dream. I must have given him quite the show. The wine glass slips out of my hand and shatters in the sink. My entire body heats with embarrassment. I’m going to be sick.

  “Shit, Vivienne!” Reid gently pushes me aside to clean up the mess. “I didn’t realize you were feeling that bad,” he says when my body is wracked with dry heaves. “Go to bed. I’ll clean this and lock up on my way out.”

  I’m sick.

  For hours, I’m in and out of bed, throwing up the entire contents of my stomach and more.

  When Tillie finally wakes up, she finds me there, trembling and in a cold sweat. Completely useless. She goes into the bathroom and returns with a wet washcloth which she places over my eyes then cuddles up next to me. “I love you, Momma,” she whispers, kissing my arm.

  I choke back a sob, still feeling so much guilt over the night before. “I love you more than life, baby,” I whisper.

  The next time I open my eyes, I find Tillie sitting up in my bed, eating a Pop-Tart. She has the TV on low, watching her cartoons, and I wonder where my baby has gone. When did she turn into a little girl? “When did you start taking care of Mommy and getting your own breakfast, pretty girl?”

  “When I gotted free years old,” she answers simply, like the answer should be so obvious.

  You mean when your Daddy died, and your mommy lost her mind, I think to myself, mentally adding that to the ever growing pile of guilt.

  Around noon, Reid peeks his head into the door. “Hey, ladies,” he says, looking awfully chipper.

  “Hi, Prince Reid,” Tillie beams. “Where’s Princess Kylie?”

  His eyes drift over to me when he answers, “She had to go home, Dimples. I’m sorry.” He’s giving me a look that I’m not sure how to read. Did he send her home because of me? Because of the scene I pulled yesterday? More guilt.

  She pouts, hanging her head. “Aw, man...I wanted to show her my princess dresses.”

  “I’m sorry. You can show me your princess dresses if you want to,” he says, giving her a huge, dimpled smile.

  Tillie blows out a long breath and rolls her eyes. Those dimples may work on the other ladies, but they do not impress her. “You already sawed them afore.”

  “That’s true,” he says, stepping into the room. “But, I would love to see them as many times as you want to show them to me.”

  “Hmmm...maybe later,” she says noncommittally.

  “I was actually coming by to see if you wanted to come downstairs and have lunch with me and maybe help me drive the boat the rest of the afternoon since Mommy isn’t feeling well.” he offers, raising his eyebrows at me in question.

  Thank you, I mouth.

  The camp. I forgot all about the camp. Thank God for Reid always being here to save me.

  Tillie’s face lights up with excitement. “Can I, Mommy? Can I go?” Her voice sounds horrible, like her vocal cords have been run through a shredder. Another reminder of how close we came to losing her last night.

  My chest tightens as I nod my head. “Of course, baby.” Looking over to Reid, I add, “Just make sure she wears her life jacket, okay?”

  He looks at Tillie with so much love and genuine affection then over to me. His face says it all. The trauma of almost losing Tillie has connected us on a deeper level. There’s a trust that wasn’t there before. He saved my baby, and I know that I owe him her life—that I can trust him with her life.

  Reid
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br />   In the first few days following the night that Viv and I had sex, I realized that it’s not something she is ready to discuss or to repeat. She was really skittish around me for a few days after...embarrassed or worried...maybe even ashamed. It stung at first, and then I had to remind myself that her husband just died and that she must feel like shit. It’s too soon. So, I’ll bide my time. I’ll wait.

  The camp has been great. I’ve learned a lot about myself and life in general. Being able to watch these kids open up, cut loose, and have some fun has been so rewarding. Tonight is karaoke night, and I can’t wait to see what they’ve come up with.

  I walk over to the house to see if Vivienne and Cassie are ready to head over to the pavilion. When I step into the kitchen, I find Sierra and Tillie at the table working on a puzzle.

  Sierra and Cassie are suddenly a packaged deal. She’s a cool enough kid, and it’s nice having someone old enough to look after Tillie so she doesn’t have to be around the camp kids all of the time.

  “Hey, girls,” I say, plopping down at the table beside Dimples. “Whatcha making?”

  “It’s a unicorn, Prince Reid. With a rainbow...see?” Tillie grabs the box and holds it up to my face.

  “That’s awesome. Leave it on the table when you finish so I can see it when we get back, okay?” Puzzles have become our thing. Every night before bed, she and I put one together before Viv takes her up for her story. As much as I’m looking forward to hanging out tonight, I’m going to miss our new nightly ritual. From the first day, I’ve felt such a strong connection with Tillie, but since the near drowning incident, it feels as if our souls are somehow connected—bound together through our shared trauma. She’s become a part of me. I have no real way of knowing what it feels like to be a parent, but I can imagine that the feeling is something similar to the way my heart seems to grow tighter in my chest when she’s not around and how just being in her presence sets it at ease.