I turn and walk towards Neely’s car to make it clear I am ready to leave. I need out and it’s going to happen as soon I lay my hands on the packed bag at my apartment. Neely comes into my apartment with me, but I make an excuse about having some work to do and needing to catch up and prepare for my Mig meeting. I know she doesn’t believe me, but I also know she won’t push me unless it’s absolutely necessary.
After she leaves I call the Griggs to let them know of my plans.
“Harrison, hi, I just wanted to call and let you know I’m going to be out of town for a bit.”
“A bit? How long? Everything OK?” Jesus, he’s just as suspicious as Barbara.
“Yep, a couple of meetings about a job with that mag in city and then I’m going to get in a bit of shopping. Nothing too exciting.”
“OK Dolly, but listen we’re here if you need anything,” he says and his hidden message is implied.
“OK thanks, the plants will be fine, so all good on the need anything front,” I reply.
“I didn’t mean your plants,” he continues to get his point across and I need to shut this down.
“I know, listen just tell Barbara not to panic if she can’t get hold of me for a few days, I’m going to be busy.”
“Sure, stay safe pretty girl,” he says softly.
“Bye Harrison.” I hang up the phone, grab the bag and my keys and head out. I need distance before people find out about my felony and start to make house calls that will delay my escape.
I drive for a while and pull in at a hotel. It looks clean, says it has a spa but all I really need is a bed and running water and it’s only going to be for one night. Tomorrow I’ll be at the hotel where I made a reservation on Mig’s recommendation. I’ve been hearing beeps and noises from my cell phone in my purse, so as soon as I’ve checked in I grab the phone, I know I won’t be able to settle until I’ve got rid of them.
Jonas: Call me.
Neely: Hey, you can be Thelma and I’ll be Louise. Love you soul sister.
Chris: Jesus Dolly, your life is like a soap opera at the moment. Here if you need me. I can bake a pie with a iron file in it!
Tommy: Hi beautiful, Hope you’re OK and missing my, charm and wit. Call me and let me know you’re OK.
Flo: Are you OK?
Lottie: Death to the skank incubator!
Mig: Looking forward to our meeting. Meet you at our offices at 1130.
Great! An 1130am start gives me a lie in and time to primp and get there without being flustered. Fortunately my alcohol medicated evening and random sleepover at Jonas’s has left me tired; add that to the drama of today and I feel wiped out. I’m hoping this means sleep isn’t far away.
The next couple of days go great. Mig and I agree which shots to use for the football article and the terms of use, payment, article credits and such like. Overall I’m pleased and happy with our working arrangement and what we’ve agreed. I can’t wait to see them in the final print version, that’s definitely something I will add to my portfolio and wrap up for Wally’s Christmas present!
We take some long lunches and have dinner where I find out more about him and the job he loves. He really is a nice guy. I’m constantly surrounded by them, but the timing as ever is shit. He’s not pushing anything and although I’m focused on work, we agree that it would be nice to get to know one another as friend’s first. I like the idea but then feel a bit stressed that this is someone else that I’m dangling tempting carrots for.
I also have a fabulous meeting with the Art Director, Pamela Cooke. We review my portfolio of shots and as a way of sensing my creativity she gives me some articles as examples and asks me to describe what and how I’d support the article with photographic material. I let my passion flow and at one point think I’m talking too much until I look at Mig, who is also in the meeting and he’s smiling. Both are listening intently to my ideas. When I finally stop speaking she’s thrilled with my vision and suggestions and is going to come up with a test job to see if I’m a good freelance fit for the magazine and vice versa. Payment for this job will be dependent on the shots I get, once I’ve nailed that we’ll talk about contracts and being formally detailed as one of the associated freelance photographers. It doesn’t mean I’ll work for them as an employee. If they understand my style, they can be more specific with the jobs they ask me to do and because I will be on the books I won’t have to prove myself or my skills, I will be a trusted photographic source. This route also gives me the opportunity and freedom to pursue my own projects and local work and during times when I’m quiet on the work front I can call up and volunteer for work assignments at the magazine. Pamela advises that as this process progresses it is likely that they’ll match my photo eye to a writing style and I’ll be offered regular work supporting just a few article authors first rather than all of them.
This is great news and I’m thankful to Mig for helping to make it possible but I want to keep things real until my head is in better shape. He’s asked me out to dinner but I decline saying that I’m heading back home. It’s a little white lie because I’m just going to get in my car and drive somewhere else, further away for a bit and stop when it feels right.
I’m getting repeated text messages which I’m still ignoring. Jonas and the tone of his messages don’t change, he just expects me to obey his command and call him. Neely’s messages go from loving then change to concerned and finally angry and threatening as the days go on. Tommy hasn’t text again but that’s probably because I didn’t return his last message and Chris continues to try and engage me with the odd joke. Either way it’s obvious that they’ve figured out I’ve upped and left with no word of where I am. This behavior is a first for me; I’ve never been inclined to do something so selfish before and the one thing I am certain of is that when I do get back Neely will go mental. It won’t be pretty and although I feel a little guilty about worrying her, I need this space more, so I keep driving.
After what must be hours in the car I hit a really small country place called Adams Grove. I pull over to get some gas, drinks and snacks from the gas station and as I finish putting in the fuel I notice the forecourt of a beautiful looking motel across the road. I’ve never really seen a motel I could describe as pretty before, they’re normally dingy little dives in need of a coat of paint and termite removal guy, but this one looks quaint. It has the standard look and set up of rooms in an outbuilding fashion facing a parking lot, but each door is painted a brightly different color and next to the door is a matching hanging basket filled with the same color flowers. Someone nurtures this place and has taken the time to make it look and feel special. It’s making me want to capture the moment, so I grab my camera and take a few shots. The colorful doors and the hanging baskets full of flowers make me smile. I need to smile more so I’m going to check it out and I hope that the rooms are just as charming on the inside.
The owner who was at the reception desk is a lovely old lady who resembles a typical grandma. She has grey hair woven in tight curls, glasses hanging on a string around her neck and she’s a slightly round shape that screams ‘Cuddle me’. She beams as I enter the reception and says “Welcome to our home, are you looking for a room?”
“Yes, but not at your home, one of the motel rooms will be perfect thanks,” I clarify.
“Oh dear, of course, the motel isn’t our home but we call it home because we want you to feel at home here, you can sleep anywhere if you’re tired enough, but you relax and rest in a home,” she explains.
“That’s nice, I like the sound of that, could I see a room please?”
“Certainly, we have Magenta, Sunshine Yellow, Egg Shell Blue, Spring Green or Lilac available, what sort of color are you feeling like?”
“Egg Shell Blue I think but I have no idea why,” I say confident in my choice.
“Fine choice, I’m Jessie, follow me please.” The rooms are beautiful and look so inviting that they make me smile again, they’ve got the touch of someone who wants
you to relax and enjoy your stay.
“How many nights, Miss...”
“Frobisher, but you can call me Dolly and can we start with a week please?”
“Of course here’s your key, I’ll just pop and get the registration forms.” Jessie comes back and is armed with forms and an old fashioned credit card swipe machine and tourist leaflets. I pay her the money and she tells me about the town food spots and places of local interest.
Over the next few days I gradually unwind and continue to ignore my phone. The text messages have increased and now Barbara has joined in. I consider returning Barbara’s because I don’t want her to worry, but then Harrison knew I was going off the grid for a bit so I put my phone back in my purse and ignore it again.
I spend my days lazing around and taking pictures on the small trips that I make, but I also enjoy just sitting around on a patio chair outside my door watching the world go by. Jessie has become a friend and we share a coffee at some point during each day; it’s nice having someone to talk to who doesn’t judge. She’s also told me that the answers to my problems will present themselves, either that or I will get sick of waiting for the great presentation and get off my butt and do something about it. I really like that theory, it helps me close down my angry and disappointed mind and I feel more rested while I wait and test out her theory.
After a particularly lazy morning I head out for a wander and find myself in a book store, it’s not like I haven’t got time so I select a few books and one of their comfy armchairs and take up residence for a while. After a few hours of mind indulgence I pay for my purchases and amble back to my room. I walk through the door and sitting on my bed is Jonas.
Jessie was right, there was a fateful presentation but as usual with my life, it wasn’t the answer it was the fucking problem itself.
Chapter Thirteen
“What are you doing here, how did you find me and how did you get in?” I ask dumping my bags.
“People were worried Dalton, you can’t just take off. Barbara is stressed, Neely is ready to kill someone and you’re looking at one of the potential candidates on her hit list,” he replies.
Looking at the ceiling for some kind of inspiration for a moment I say “That doesn’t explain why you’re here, how you found me and what the fuck you’re doing in my room.” I make it clear with my beat tone how unimpressed I am right now.
“There are ways to a find a person if you have the means and I’m here because I’m worried too,” he’s trying to remain patient and I can tell he’s not happy with my tone.
“There is no way Jessie just let you in here, did you break in?”
“Needs must and once again, I have the means to do that.”
“Well here’s a time saver, you’ve seen I’m OK, so now you can leave,” I head to the door, open and it and make a gesture for him to walk through it. He gets up off my bed and unfolds himself and all of a sudden the room feels crowded. He ambles over to the door and at the last second when I think he’s about to walk through it he grabs it, slams it shut and then pushes me against it.
Damn, he’s fast.
“And once again you find yourself backed into a corner Dalton,” he says quietly looking down at me, his eyes roving over my face taking in my features. All I can do is shudder and stare back at him, I’m terrified. I know what I’m feeling and I don’t think I have the resistance to push away from him again. Jessie’s words once again hit me about how solutions present themselves when they’re ready.
“Why are you here Jonas? You’ve got enough going on,” I ask.
“We don’t talk about that. She isn’t part of this right now.” Neither of us has moved from our original positions, we’re both steadfast in a standoff but I love the way he makes me feel cornered. It’s like he’s conveying his mood and demands without having to say them.
“Dalton give me the night to show you,” he says.
“Show me? Show me what?”
“Show you me, the real me. The man I’ve always wanted you to see.” I’m worried he’s serious about this because my resistance is wavering.
A gasp leaves me and my eyes must look like they’re about to bug out of my head. I nibble my teeth over my lips taking nervous little bites; it’s something I do when I’m at a decision crossroads. His tongue slips out of his mouth and he licks his lips, his eyes change to his angry eyes and it’s then that I realize they’re not angry at all and never have been.
It’s a look of desire, steel and passion.
Fucking hell, all these years he was never angry with me, he just wanted me.
“Say yes to me. One night,” he pleads. Instead of saying yes I lean up on to my toes and edge forward and place a kiss on his lips. I’m doing it slowly in case I’ve missed things and my brain is making up what is happening here. He doesn’t return the kiss so I back off and resume my position against the door.
“Again,” he says this like a demand. So I lean forward a second time and kiss him again, only this time leaving my lips on his a little longer and they feel lush and soft, again I lean back against the door and look at him.
“Good Dalton. Open those lips a little bit, show me the tip of your tongue.” I do this and he leans forward and touches the very tip of his tongue to mine with a quick wiggle and then moves back. “Kiss me Dalton. Let me feel your pretty tongue in my mouth.” It’s another demand but one I can go with. I lean forward and lick his lips before they part enough for me to take control of the kiss. He’s letting me get into it and learn what he feels like. After a while, he’s still calm and collected and I’m trying to speed things up because I’m getting more convinced by my decision to see what one night could feel like. Paranoia washes over me though because he doesn’t appear to be getting into it with me, so I stop.
“Dalton, I know what I like and I need you to be able to give it to me.” I’m not following him at all, I’m trying to give it to him.
“Don’t you want this anymore? Am I not doing things right?” I ask hesitantly because the wrong answer could pretty much kill me.
“Far from it. I want you in every way and you’re going to give it to me. I need you to let me take you Dalton, I need you to let me be me tonight. We’ve got all night and I plan on using it, but I want to own you and I want to take what should have been mine for all these years.”
I know he’s asking for permission for something, but I’m not sure what. Searching his face doesn’t give me the answers and he’s still got me cornered by the door and I know I’m trembling.
“Do I scare you Dalton? I won’t hurt you. I’ll let you feel what’s really inside me and I’ll show you what I’ve needed from you for so long.”
“I’m not scared,” I say quickly.
“You’re trembling, I can see it baby,” he whispers back.
“I want...”
“Tell me Dalton,” he’s demanding but there is a plea within it, his plea has an edge to it and I come to realize that I love the way he constantly says my full name. I reply with “I want to know you, all of you, if I get one night with you I need to have no regrets and satisfy myself and my curiosities about you.”
“You’ll be satisfied Dalton I promise, but you need to do as I say. I’ll let you feel it all, every part of me but you have to let me do it my way and sometimes I like to...demand.”
Oh I wasn’t expecting that word. My mind ponders over what he means but I’m not sure and because of the desperate way he looks at me I feel empowered. I feel totally desired because of his need for my permission. If I want no regrets too I have to follow his lead. “What if I can’t give you want you want?” I ask, he doesn’t seem bothered by my hesitance.
“Trust me baby, we’ll stop if you want to,” he replies, “but I’m barely holding onto my control and I need you.”
“OK,” I nod. “I trust you,” I say looking into his eyes.
A small breath of relief leaves him and he says “Good girl, kiss me and I mean really kiss me this time.” I don’t
start slow I jab my tongue in his mouth and grab hold of his chin. I kiss him so he has no choice but to return it. He doesn’t touch me still but he’s more accepting of my moves this time.
“I want to see you Dalton. Seeing you in that hot tub made me fuckin’ hard, I want to see you again. Take your clothes off.” At this point I realize my trembling is anticipation and it’s because I’m turned on. He’ll be able to see this once I remove my clothes because I’m not wearing a bra, my nipples are hard and my small thong feels damp already.
“I won’t ask again Dalton. I’ll take.” He’s clear about how this is going to proceed. I reach down and grab the bottom of my dress and pull it up over my head. My body extends in length because of the movement I’m making and it shoves my breasts forward, they feel full with need and my nipples bud more as the air and Jonas’s gaze hits them.
“Kick your shoes off and slowly turn around.” He backs away from me so I can do this, so I’m now facing the door and when my nipples touch it I gasp and let out the tinniest groan. It feels cold and hard and any touch right now feels welcome, I need the relief. I feel him gather my hair and drape it over my left shoulder. A finger tip is placed at the base of my skull and is gently dragged all the way down the centre of my back, he follows my spine and carries on as he runs it down the middle of my ass cheeks down and over to where my thighs are.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs; his finger tip is then replaced by him. All of him. He’s squashing me against the door and he’s flattened my hands against the door beside my head, with his hands covering them. It feels amazing and I want more.
“Can you feel how much I want you Dalton? I’m so fuckin’ hard I could cum right now,” he whispers in my ear. I can feel him and his dick is bolt upright barely being restrained by his jeans, it’s resting against the crack of my butt cheeks and as he pushes forward just a smidge, I groan again.
Fostering Love (The Soul Sisters Series Book 1) Page 14
