One Little Secret

by Eliza Lentzski

  A lump formed in my throat, nearly choking me. I shut my eyes tight. Not now, brain, I berated myself. Please, don’t ruin this.

  “These will have to go, too,” I heard Julia hum. She hadn’t noticed my distraction. Before I could react, she’d slid the open blade under the elastic leg band of my cotton underwear and cut.

  My eyes flew open and the star-shaped hole disappeared. “Hey! I actually liked those!”

  Julia smirked. “I’ll take you lingerie shopping.”

  “Will you try on things for me?” I asked.

  “If you behave, maybe we can share a fitting room,” she mused.

  My mouth watered at the possibilities.

  Julia had only cut away one side of the underwear. She took her time with the second leg. She opened the scissors’ blades and ran the bottom blade along the length of my thigh. My upper thigh muscles involuntarily twitched. The blade snuck under the remaining leg band. Instead of one, long, even incision, she snipped away at my underwear in short, precise cuts.

  The muscles in my abdomen jumped each time she opened and closed the blades. The scissors’ hard metal underside glided across my pelvis and slid past my hip bone.

  When she was finished, Julia stood back to admire her handiwork. My costume, and my underwear, had been completely dismantled. Scraps of bedazzled fabric littered the duvet cover. I was a little bewildered, but mostly turned on.

  “Now that I’ve unwrapped my present,” Julia mused, “it’s time for me to enjoy her.”

  She ran her tongue up my body, starting at my pubic bone and ending at the hollow in my throat. My nipples pebbled in her capable hands.

  Julia hovered above and showed me her teeth. “Keep your eyes open, darling. I want you watching me.”

  She retreated back down my body, kissing a wet trail down the center of my body. I held myself up on my elbows so I could watch every kiss, every nip, every movement of her pink tongue. My eyes nearly closed when she sank her teeth into the tender flesh of my inner thigh, but I somehow managed to keep my eyes locked with hers.

  Julia positioned herself between my twitching thighs. She barely touched me with her tongue. I felt the heat and the moisture from her warm breath against my shaved skin. Her tongue was delicate and light as she licked up and down my slick center. A thin line of her saliva and my arousal connected the tip of her tongue to my pussy lips. I groaned at the erotic sight.

  I couldn’t stop the movement of my lower body. I rolled my hips and flexed my backside to lift me up and down. Julia did nothing to stop me, but she maintained her distance, denying me the direct contact that I so desperately desired.

  My hips jerked toward the ceiling, and I choked out a sharp gasp when she finally made contact with my aching clit. She circled a finger around and around the fleshy nub, drawing out more liquid from my seeping slit.

  The tip of her middle finger disappeared between my swollen lips. I clawed at the bedsheets to keep from tugging on her hair. Her finger plunged deeper. She withdrew the single digit and replaced it with two. I felt her start to quicken her pace. It was all too much, too soon.

  The destruction of my dress had been somewhat practical but also torturous foreplay. I was a raw recruit again with a hairpin trigger. I didn’t want to cum so soon.

  I somehow found my voice. “Slow and deep,” I instructed. “Keep doing that.”

  Julia didn’t protest or deny me what I wanted or how I wanted it. She settled between my thighs and continued to penetrate me with slow, even thrusts. Contented groans and sighs slipped past my parted lips. I wiggled on the mattress to help set the pressure and pace while Julia patiently stroked her fingers in and out of my tightening sex.

  “I need your mouth,” I groaned. “Please.”

  I cried out louder when she obediently sucked my clit into her mouth. I felt the orgasm tingling in my core. It took root in my most sensitive nerve endings and spread like tentacles across my lower body. I pulsed, I ached everywhere.

  I gripped the top of Julia’s head so she had no place to go. My back arched, my eyes shut, and my mouth opened wider. I felt the rush wash over me, all the way down to my curling toes.

  I finally released my hold of Julia’s head and breathed out. My body seemed to sink deeper into the mattress with each exhalation. I stared at the ceiling while my breathing returned to normal.

  The white plaster ceiling was smooth, with no visible cracks, and yet a star-shaped hole floated before my eyes. The star-shaped hole in the back of his head. I’d made him get on his knees. I’d pulled the trigger, and he’d fallen forward into a pile of dirty sand and concrete—the only thing left of what used to be our safe house.

  Julia’s voice pulled me back. “Where did you just go?”

  I couldn’t lie. Not to her. “Afghanistan.”

  The muscles in her jaw flexed, but she didn’t say a word. Instead, she rested her head on my collarbone and wiggled closer. Her arm and leg draped across my body.

  “Has that ever happened before? During sex?” Her voice was quiet.

  “No.”

  “Are you getting worse?”

  I wanted to deny the question out of hand. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just overly tired or stressed.”

  “Do you know what triggered you?”

  I thought her questions were incredibly brave. Put in her position, I didn’t know if I would have been able to confront my condition head-on. It was easier to ignore it and hope it would go away. That’s how I’d gotten myself in trouble in the first place though.

  “The scissors,” I answered truthfully. “They reminded me of something.”

  Julia shifted in bed again so she could look directly at me. She rested her chin on my chest. Her raven hair fell across her forehead and into her eyes. “Maybe you should talk to Dr. Warren about the virtual reality treatment?”

  “Maybe,” I deflected.

  It hardly seemed the time or place to be having this conversation. I didn’t want to talk about it now. I didn’t want to talk about it ever.

  “When’s your next appointment?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” I dismissed. “I’ve got it written down.”

  “Cassidy,” she censured. “This is important.”

  “I know it is,” I returned. “But it’s not your job to fix me, okay? And if this is too much for you, nothing says you have to stay. You don’t owe me anything.”

  I expected Julia to snap back at me with the same heat as I’d given her. Instead, I felt her body go rigid. She didn’t speak to me; she stiffly separated herself from my side and climbed out of bed. I watched her pad silently to the en suite bathroom. She turned on the bathroom light and shut the door behind her.

  I sat up in bed and rested my head in my hands. “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath.

  I peeled off what remained of my ridiculous Halloween costume. The long sleeves had gotten stuck to my arms. The non-breathable material had never been intended for this kind of activity. Scattered pieces of sequined fabric were strewn across the bed. I tried to collect all the bits and pieces, but I was sure we’d still be finding glittery blue thread on the carpet and in the bed until next Halloween.

  I looked around at the empty room. Julia’s bedroom was a disaster. Half of her wardrobe spilled out of her closet from her fruitless search for a last-minute Halloween costume. I felt disgusted with myself. Julia was always so tidy and so neat. I’d done this to her; I’d made everything a mess.

  I grabbed a t-shirt from the floor and pulled it over my head to at least partially cover my nakedness. I climbed out of bed and knocked lightly on the bathroom door.

  “Julia?” I waited for the response I knew wouldn’t come. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my frustrations out on you. I know you were only trying to help.”

  I hated apologizing through a door.

  I wet my lips. “Julia,” I called to her. “I killed a man.”

  The bathroom door swung open with Julia on the other side. She hadn’
t locked the door, but I hadn’t tried the doorknob.

  “I killed a man,” I repeated the horrible truth. “I shot him in the back of the head. And they gave me a medal and called me a hero.”

  She didn’t say a word. She didn’t try to fix me or tell me everything was going to be okay. Her arms wrapped around me and she pulled my head down to her shoulder. I fell apart. Hot tears dripped down my cheeks. If not for the solidness and stability of her body, I would have crumbled to the floor.

  I felt as broken and as torn up as that damn princess costume.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The wind rustled through the trees, a variable kaleidoscope of reds, yellows, and oranges that would remain for a few more weeks until the leaves fell and were carted away in wheelbarrows and yard waste bags. Fall in Minnesota was special, but fleeting. A good, strong wind storm could rip the color from the trees within a few hours, leaving behind the skeleton of oak and maple trees until spring eventually rolled around.

  I supposed I was a bit of an oddity in my ambivalence about the season. I didn’t stock up on pumpkin spice everything. I didn’t go leaf peeping or apple picking or carve up pumpkins. Those kinds of traditions had bypassed my family entirely. But I did appreciate being able to wear flannel multiple times a week without feeling too butch.

  Julia sat across the table from me at our favorite brunch place. I would have previously rolled my eyes at the word ‘brunch,’ and especially at the idea of having a favorite spot, but love makes you do unnatural things.

  My attention was divided between the menu in my hands and the woman across the table. She wore a light cardigan, open at the neck and shoulders with a matching patterned camisole. A delicate silver chain hung around her neck, drawing attention to her defined clavicle. I hadn’t known Julia in cold weather yet. I worried the skirts might go away or that she might button up her blouses more, or worse yet, that she might start wearing turtlenecks.

  I watched her over the top of my menu as her gaze lifted from her own to follow a man in his mid-thirties as he walked by our table. He and I were similarly dressed in button-up flannel, leather ankle boots, and tight skinny jeans. I frowned when I noticed how her eyes lingered a little too long on the passing man.

  “Did you just check out that guy’s butt?” I exclaimed.

  I watched Julia go stiff. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard—and you’ve been known to say some ridiculous things.”

  “I saw that double-take, babe. I’m a trained observer.”

  “If you really must know,” she sniffed, “I was checking out his baby.”

  “Oh.” Only when I spun around to look at the man a second time did I notice the newborn in a backpack-like carrier. I hadn’t even registered there being a baby present.

  “Charlotte’s daughter is already seven,” Julia sighed dejectedly. “It made me feel old. And … I think I’ve begun to tick.”

  “Tick?” I spun back around to my original seated position.

  “Like a clock?” she clarified. “A biological clock.”

  “Oh.” I let Julia’s words sink in a little deeper. “Ohhhh.”

  She ran her hands over her face. “I used to feel nothing when I saw children. No—I take that back—I used to feel relieved that I didn’t have one. And now …” She trailed off.

  “And now you want one?” I guessed.

  “I don’t know!” Her voice pitched higher than her usual smoky register. “But I do know that I’m not getting any younger and neither are my eggs.”

  It was like walking on unsteady ground, looking out for landmines. I didn’t know what to say. This was totally new territory for me—for her too, I imagined. But it certainly wasn’t the kind of conversation I’d pictured us having before brunch.

  She wet her lips. “You’re freaking out, aren’t you?”

  “No!” I insisted. “I’m not freaking out. I’m not not freaking out,” I qualified, “I’m just kind of taking it all in.”

  “It’s new to me, too. I didn’t exactly expect it.”

  “So you want to have a baby?”

  “No. No. No,” she shook her head. “The timing is all wrong.”

  “How so?”

  “Because.” She toyed with the stem of her champagne glass. “Melissa Ferdet called me the other day.”

  “Oh?” I hoped my face wasn’t doing weird things.

  “The firm where she works, Grisham and Stein, is creating a new position. They’re looking to give back to the community and take on more pro bono cases. Melissa thinks I should apply for the job.”

  “She does.”

  Julia’s mouth ticked down. “I know she’s not your favorite person.”

  “I don’t know her.” My first impressions had not been favorable, but all I had was a brief, peripheral conversation and a few of Julia’s stories. “Are you considering it?”

  She sighed. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of things to consider.”

  “Like?”

  “Like, you.”

  “I know I’m a jealous ass sometimes,” I breezed, “but that shouldn’t stop you from applying. I’ll get over it eventually.”

  “It’s more about the hours,” she corrected. “You know that the work I do is very time consuming. If I went to work for Grisham and Stein, my days would get even longer.”

  “And we wouldn’t see each other as much,” I said, catching on.

  She bit her lower lip in an uncharacteristic show of uncertainty. “What do you think I should do?”

  I didn’t have an answer. “It’s not my decision to make.”

  “I know that,” she countered. “But if you were me …”

  “I’m not you, Julia,” I continued to deny. “What do you want to do? What’s going to make you happy?”

  A corner of her expressive mouth rose. “Retire early and run away with you?”

  I exhaled. “Sounds good to me.”

  I reached for my mimosa while maintaining my eye contact. I overestimated my hand-eye coordination, however. The tips of my fingers nudged the fluted glass just hard enough to knock it over. The glass didn’t break, but the bubbly orange liquid spilled across the tabletop and flowed menacingly in Julia’s direction.

  I leapt from my chair, nearly knocking the table over, and grabbed the cloth napkin that had been lying across my lap. I rushed to Julia’s side of the table and threw down my napkin like a dam to stop the flood. I stopped most, but not all of the liquid. The remainder splashed over the side of the table and onto Julia’s lap.

  I heard her slight intake of air as my beverage hit her thighs. Luckily, her outfit wasn’t dry-clean only.

  I grabbed a napkin from a nearby table and dropped to my knees. I dabbed with purpose at the extra liquid that had collected on her lap.

  “Darling,” she quietly laughed. “It’s fine.”

  “You shouldn’t need a tarp to have a drink with me,” I complained.

  I looked up when her hands settled on top of mine. Julia stared down at me and smiled.

  There was a smile Julia reserved only for me. She typically grew annoyed with most people—myself included—but I was also the only person to whom she shared that particular smile.

  A frivolous, unexpected thought popped into my head: I could propose to her down from here.

  My frantic hands stilled, but my heart seemed to pound a little heavier. I watched her caramel eyes shift in her head. She looked … scared.

  Her mouth barely moved. “I’ll be right back.”

  She scooted back in her chair and rose from the table. I watched her retreat towards the back of the restaurant, presumably in the direction of the restrooms.

  “Stupid, stupid,” I sighed to myself. I got off of my knees and flopped back down in my chair on the opposite side of the table.

  With Julia gone, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my phone. I intended on distracting myself by checking on the score of my fantasy football team, but a text message from Stanley was
waiting for me when I unlocked my phone. His words distracted me from logging into my fantasy football app.

  Julia caught me with my phone out when she returned to the table. “I thought we agreed no phones at the table, dear.”

  “I know,” I acknowledged, not looking up. “I’m sorry.”

  I continued to stare at Stanley’s text. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Is everything okay?” Julia asked when I ignored her words and failed to put my phone away.

  “It’s work.”

  “What’s the matter?” she pressed.

  I distractedly apologized again. “I’m sorry. I’ve got to make a call.”

  I abruptly stood and left Julia at the table with an annoyed, but perplexed look on her face.

  I hadn’t had the phone number stored in my cell for long, but I’d figured it was important to keep his number close considering how twisted his panties had become the last time I left him out of the loop. Now I was the one on the outside.

  I waited until I was outside of the restaurant and in a semi-private location before pulling up his number.

  “What the fuck, man?” I growled when Detective Ryan answered my call. “Stanley just texted me that you picked up Landon Tauer.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” he defended. “The D.A.’s office has been getting bombarded with calls about us letting him walk. It’s like the Petersik family are robo-callers or something.”

  “We let him walk because we’ve got nothing on him.”

  “What about the gun?”

  “What about it? Landon said he gave it to Kennedy for protection. We’ve got no concrete evidence. It’s all circumstantial hearsay!” I began to pace back and forth in front of the restaurant. “That’s not gonna hold up in court.”

  “We got our guy.”

  “No. We got a guy,” I emphasized. “What about the beer can we found? That all but proves that his story about Michael Bloom’s death is true.”