Salvation

by Sarah Sorana

  He laughed out loud.

  “You’re not the loveliest flower I’ve ever smelled,” he said. “Come on. Plenty of hot water.”

  He stood up and held out a hand, pulling me onto my feet. It wasn’t my imagination - he carefully looked away until I pulled down the skimpy dress.

  Merle seemed like such a good guy.

  I still wasn’t sure whether I was grateful to him or furious at him.

  He led me into the bathroom and showed me where the towels were, disappearing briefly and coming back with a pile of clothing.

  “I don’t know what you’d wanna wear,” he said. “I grabbed a bit of everything.”

  He left the stack on the counter and went back into his bedroom, shutting the door behind me.

  “No!” I screamed.

  He reappeared almost instantly, to find me shaking in a corner. He grabbed my arms and forced them down from where they were protecting my head.

  “No,” I said. “No, no, no. The door. No. Please don’t leave me in here, I’ll be good.”

  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping me in his arms and just holding me for a few long moments. “Sweetheart, it’s okay. No one’s shutting you in anywhere.”

  I shook my head, mutely.

  “Being silly,” I said. “Sorry.”

  One moment, I was on top of the world, the next, I was cowering in a corner. Everything seemed too large, too bright, too suffocating, too enclosing.

  “Want me to just hose you down out there?” he asked with a grin.

  I laughed, a little.

  “No, but…” I hesitated. “Will you stay with me?”

  “Sure,” he said. He stepped away from me and sat down on the closed toilet, facing the wall and starting in on a long, involved story about a buddy of his who’d fallen in a mud-pit and then tripped and landed in a grease patch on his way to the shower and had ended up just giving up and letting someone else hose him down.

  I stepped into the shower and tossed the disgusting dress out. Merle raised his voice a little to be heard over the spray.

  It felt so good to be clean.

  I couldn’t bear to leave the shower until the hot water ran out.

  I ended up clean, dry, and dressed in a pair of men’s pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt.

  “Want to stay here a night?” Merle asked. “I have a guest room.”

  I nodded.

  It was getting dark, and I was exhausted. I was definitely ready to go to bed.

  The thought of going into a strange bedroom, though, and shutting the door behind me, locking myself into a room even deeper in the building…

  “Merle?” I asked. “Can I sleep with you? In your bed, I mean. With pajamas.”

  He eyed me for a long minute.

  “Sure,” he said. “Not a problem. Mind if I use my laptop for a bit? I’m not quite ready to go to sleep.”

  “I’m not quite ready for it to be dark,” I admitted.

  He took another set of PJ’s into the bathroom. He looked damn fine when he came back, the soft cotton and flannel strained over his hard muscles.

  I steeled my courage and walked to the door and shut it myself. I couldn’t ask him to sleep in a room open to the night.

  It was awkward, but we ended up in the bed together, under the same sheets, Merle sitting up with his laptop and cell phone, sending quick flurries of texts and writing e-mails and looking at spreadsheets.

  I asked him what he was doing, and he ran his fingers through his hair, staring at a column of numbers.

  “Making sure everyone gets paid. Making sure our businesses are running smoothly. Making sure everyone got back safely today.”

  “You sound like my father,” I said with a laugh. “He has his own business and he’s always looking at charts and spreadsheets.”

  “I have my own business too,” he said with a grin. “Just… a little different.”

  I stopped smiling.

  I’d forgotten, for a minute, that Merle’s different business is what got me locked in a fucking cell for nine days.

  I rolled away from him and, after staring at the dark shapes around me for who knows how long, went to sleep.

  ------------------------------------------------------------

  When I woke up, it was dark. I flinched and rolled into a tiny ball, trying not to scream.

  Even though I knew something was off, I was in a comfortable bed, it wasn’t until I felt my body collide with someone else’s and Merle’s arms wrapped around me that I realized that I was safe.

  I turned in Merle’s embrace and buried my head in the crook of his neck, crying into his shoulder as he made sleepy “There, there,” noises and patted my back.

  ------------------------------------------------------------

  The next time I woke up, I was still nestled into Merle’s chest, but I was feeling very different. I realized that I was pressed up against him, and my body was responding to his.

  And, well, his was responding to mine.

  “Merle?” I said, softly. I nudged his erection with my hip.

  “Oh, sorry,” he said, blearily, He reached between us to tuck himself away, and, in the process, accidentally stroked his hand down my belly, between my breasts, making me shiver.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled again.

  I leaned up and kissed him.

  He didn't say anything else as our hands tangled in each other other's hair and our lips met.

  It wasn't until the urgent fumblings of our fingers slipped south to explore what was, on me, at least, the uncharted territory of smooth neck and sharp collarbone, of the soft swell of my breasts, that Merle spoke up.

  "No," he said, pulling his hands away from my chest, where he'd been cupping my delicate curves, thumbs stroking maddeningly closer and closer to my hard nipples.

  "No?" I asked.

  I looked up at him through my lashes, hoped that that would be appealing.

  "No," he said, putting his hands on my shoulders and pushing me away from him, with the same deliberate care he'd shown when teasing me a few minutes before.

  "Why not?" I asked.

  "Shit," he said, running his own hand through his hair, "You're all fucked in the head right now, you just went through hell. I'd be a total asshole to take advantage of you."

  I did my best to keep eye contact with him as I pulled my borrowed shirt off over my head.

  He shut his eyes.

  "God, you're hot," he said.

  "You're right," I said. "I've just been through hell. I am totally fucked in the head."

  I shimmied out of the flannel pants, leaving me completely naked.

  "Kissing you makes me feel like the world's all right," I said.

  His eyes were still shut.

  "I think I need that right now," I said.

  When he finally, finally opened his eyes and looked down the length of me, his gorgeous eyes darkened with desire.

  It was a bit of a relief.

  I'd dated some, but I'd yet to get naked with a boy.

  Guess I'm skipping high school boys and going straight to getting naked with a man, I told myself, trying not to giggle.

  If he hadn’t thought I was nice to look at naked… That might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. That might have broken me.

  He reached out and traced the curve of my waist to my hip with his gentle fingers.

  “You’re very persuasive,” he said.

  Even better than the feel of his body against mine was the swell of my heart when we smiled at each other.

  That’s all I wanted.

  Him.

  He kissed me again, easing his lips over mine, my eyes fluttering shut as I pressed my body against his, the only thing between us his thin pajamas.

  Even though I was naked and wanting him, he made no attempts to speed things up, simply covering me with the quilt, wrapping his arms around me, and kissing me, long and slow, over and over until I thought I’d go crazy with needing him.

/>   His hands finally started to stray, brushing down my back like electric shocks of desire.

  “Merle, please,” I said, gasping, pulling away from him.

  “Please?” he asked, with the crooked smile that charmed me the night we met.

  “I need you, I need, I need more,” I said. I knew I was blushing bright red, but I couldn’t help it. I did need him. I was going to go absolutely insane.

  His fingers slid between my legs and found the center of my need.

  I’d never been touched there before and it was - “Good,” I gasped. “So, so good. Yes, right there.”

  He stared me in the eyes, grinning, as his fingers led my body to the height it craved.

  I grabbed his arm when I finally came, rocking against him and digging my fingers into his skin.

  I shut my eyes, breathing hard, recovering.

  Every movement one of us made as we disentangled was a sweet torture, the intensity ratcheted up on a scale I wasn’t prepared for.

  “So,” I said. “Um. What can I do for you?”

  “You just did it,” he said. “That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.”

  “You, uh, you… finished?”

  “Nope,” he said, still cheerful and sleepy. “That’s not always the goal. I wanted to see you come all over me. Now I want to see you go the hell back to sleep.”

  He softened his words with a gentle kiss to my cheek.

  “Oh,” I murmured. “Okay.”

  He tilted my chin up.

  “Hey,” he said. “It’s not because I don’t want you. I’m about to explode. I definitely want you. I just want to be careful and take things a little slower, okay?”

  I nodded.

  I wasn’t convinced, but I nodded.

  “C’mere,” he said, and pulled me to him for another kiss.

  The long slow time we spent kissing in the warm glow of our desire went by like molasses, and like water over a dam - in a long slow instant rush.

  His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he sighed, and pulled it into bed to check it.

  I knew the number on the screen at a glance.

  I’d memorized it when I was five.

  My parents.

  ------------------------------------------

  The phone rang again.

  “Are you going to answer it?” I asked, sitting up in Merle’s bed. I clutched the quilt to my chest, stricken by modesty even after what he and I had just done together.

  He flicked his thumb across the screen and the call started.

  “What the hell is going on?” I heard my father say. “Where is my daughter?”

  “She’s okay,” Merle said immediately. “She’s okay.”

  Was I? Was I really?

  I had to think I was. Even if I wasn’t, I would be. I clung to that thought.

  “I’m fine,” I said out loud.

  “Megan?” My mother’s voice crackled through the speakers, tiny and distant, by Merle’s ear. “Steve, give me the phone.”

  Wordlessly, Merle handed me his.

  “Megan?” my mother demanded again.

  “I’m fine,” I said again. My voice sounded distant and remote, even to me.

  “Megan, come home,” my mother said. I heard her start to cry. “Please, come home.”

  I could feel the tears burning at my eyes, but they didn’t fall.

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll come back soon.”

  I looked at Merle, who nodded.

  “We’ll leave in just a minute,” I added. “I need to get dressed.”

  I winced. That was probably totally the wrong thing to say.

  My mother was still talking, but I couldn’t hear her. My whole world seemed hazy. Merle gently took the phone from my slack grip and listened for a minute.

  “Ma’am, she’s going to be okay. I found her last night, we’ll be at your house in about an hour.”

  A pause.

  “No, I’m sorry, we’re forty miles away, we can’t make it any faster than that safely.”

  Pause.

  “Okay.”

  Pause.

  “Okay.”

  Pause.

  “We’ll be there.”

  He hung up and looked at me.

  “Well, they’re definitely going to call the cops,” he said. He looked older, tired and drawn.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  He looked at me, his gaze sharp.

  “You did nothing wrong,” he said. “Do you understand me? You did nothing wrong.”

  I looked down at the blankets. I was half-dressed and shivering, although I didn’t feel cold, and I didn’t even realize I was shaking.

  I nodded, although I didn’t believe him.

  Merle sighed.

  “The logistics are gonna be a bitch,” he said. “I need to find a clean car.”

  “What’s wrong with the one you used yesterday?” I asked. It seemed fine to me, although I probably wouldn’t have noticed if it were overflowing with junk food wrappers and dead mice.

  “If the cops know anything about what went down at the club yesterday, I can’t roll up in the same damn car,” he said.

  After a few terse calls, Merle nodded at me.

  “Okay, we’re all set up,” he said. He eyed me. “I suppose you shouldn’t go home wrapped up in a quilt.”

  He smiled at me, that kindly, saucy, hot, devilish, sweet, private smile that seemed to be letting me in on a joke every time.

  “Mind telling me what size you are?” he asked.

  “Um, usually a medium in pants, like, twelve-fourteen. Large in shirts,” I said.

  He nodded, and tapped his phone’s screen a few times.

  He stood and began to get dressed, telling me another of his rambling stories about his buddies as I lounged in bed.

  Merle seemed to know instinctively that being alone in the quiet was the worst thing for me right now. He told me long, pointless stories, never letting it get too quiet.

  About ten minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I flinched, but Merle smiled at me.

  “It’s fine,” he said.

  “Boss, it’s me,” a cultured Southern voice said.

  Merle opened the door and a man stood there, maybe early 30’s. He had curly reddish hair and a gold tooth, and looked completely charming.

  He winked at me, in fact, and I blushed and raised the blanket further.

  “Alex, be good,” Merle said. “I don’t want your boyfriend to come after me again.”

  Alex sighed dramatically.

  “I brought you what your paramour demanded,” he said, brandishing a bag at me.

  “Um, thanks?” I asked.

  Merle took the bag.

  “Alex is professionally sneaky,” he said. “He keeps a full wardrobe for it, and I have him keep some stuff for women and kids, while he’s at it. He also has a car we can take.”

  Alex turned in the doorway to look pointedly away from me. I left the warm bed and headed to the bathroom, grabbing the bag from Merle on my way.

  I didn’t shut the door.

  I still couldn’t bear to be shut in like that.

  Alex gave me a decent selection. I hadn’t heard Merle mention underthings, but Alex had tucked in a pair of cotton underwear, tags still on, and a sports bra.

  I got to choose between jeans and a t-shirt or a sundress.

  It was shockingly hard. I stood there, in the underthings a stranger chose for me, and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t make any sort of decision.

  It felt like anything I chose would be wrong.

  Like it was an important test and I was bound to fail it.

  Finally, Merle knocked and stuck his head in.

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I don’t know what to wear,” I confessed, staring at the two neat piles in front of me.