by Wilde, Ora
“Why the cold treatment?” I asked her as we marched.
“You know why,” she answered, still without looking at me.
“Hey! It’s not my fault that you went frigid all of a sudden.”
“Shhhh,” she distraughtly responded. “There are like thousands of people around us...”
“At least four hundred,” I corrected her. “This church can only house five hundred people.”
“They seem more than that.”
“For which I’m thankful.”
“Wow. Sociable all of a sudden, huh?”
“Nope. I just appreciate the fact that their number compelled you to ask a question that I could answer. Because of that, I’m finally talking to you right now.”
She gave me a quizzical look.
“There you go again with your weird thought process, Mr. Summersmith,” she said.
“And there you go again, trying to seduce me with your shrewd comment,” I retorted.
“What?!”
“Shhhh. Many people around us, remember?”
“You’re... you’re... you’re totally incorrigible.”
“Have I told you how fuckable you are in that ravishing gown?”
“And a stubborn bastard too!”
I just smiled at her as we reached the altar.
She went on her side of the aisle, and I went to where my father was.
And somehow... I felt a tinge of sadness.
Somehow... I felt that the protracted walk wasn’t long enough...
Chapter 30
PHOEBE
“Hayden? Dinner is ready!”
I would never get used to my mom calling him like that, as if he was her own kid. She was excited to show Bill and Hayden what she has prepared for dinner. She wasn’t an extraordinary cook by any means, but her persistence and enthusiasm more than made up for it. She just didn’t stop stewing and stirring and testing until she got the right taste.
Bill approached her from behind, wrapped his arms around her upper body, and gave her a kiss.
I would never get used to that, too. The only man I’ve ever seen who was that intimate with my mom was my father... and I was too young back then to remember each and every detail of their sweet moments.
“Hope you like pot roast,” my mom told him as she snuck in a kiss on his cheek.
“Excellent!” he enthused. “I love pot roast. Did Chavo boil the beef for at least eight hours?”
“Uhm... actually, I cooked it,” she sheepishly replied.
“What? We pay people to do that, Martha. You don’t have to cook for us.”
“I know, I know, but I enjoy cooking and I wanted to do something special for you and Hayden,” she said. “And for you, too, Phoebe,” she added like it was an afterthought.
She removed herself from his embrace and continued to arrange the plates and the utensils on the long, expansive dining table which, quite frankly, was as large as half of our previous home.
“Martha... we pay house helps to do that, as well,” he interrupted her. “Please... let them do their job.”
He lovingly pulled her away from the table, her hands still reaching out for the plate she was wiping. Two maids in immaculate white uniforms and blue aprons, who were reduced to mere spectators a few minutes ago, immediately proceeded to arrange the table for us.
“Where is Hayden?” my mom asked. “I called him a minute ago. He probably didn’t hear me.”
“Mom... it’s a quite a big house,” I reminded her of what was a very obvious fact. “This isn’t like our home at Van Nuys where we could hear each other whispering. He’s upstairs, maybe locked up in his room. He didn’t hear you.”
“Oh...” she uttered with a discomfited tone.
“Phoebe... can you kindly knock on his room and tell him that dinner is ready?” Bill requested. “We don’t want your mother’s cooking to get cold before we can all savor it.”
“Yes, Phoebe,” my mother agreed with him. “Go upstairs and call him.”
“But... but...” I tried to come up with an excuse not to proceed to his room. I wasn’t comfortable with that. We haven’t spoken to each other since yesterday, after we marched together towards the altar.
“Go on, Phoebe,” Mom continued to plead. “It’s a good way to bond with your brother.”
Brother.
Yet another thing that I would never get used to.
I shrugged and turned towards the spiral staircase going to the second floor of the house. The stairs were immense... awe-inspiringly colossal. Each flight was carpeted with red velvet, framed by golden shells that made the entire design look stunningly elegant. Our old house was a single-floor flat. I wasn’t used to living in a residence with actual stairs. And the humongous nature of the staircase made me pant as I reached the upper level.
The hallway that greeted me was just as majestic as the stairs that I ascended. The area was so wide and the ceiling was so high, I felt that my voice would echo if I were to shout. The floor was fully carpeted as well. I removed my shoes... the Retro Jordans which Hayden bought for me... and left them on the top flight of the stairs. I didn’t want to soil the carpet.
There were three rooms in that floor. The first one was the bathroom... which was so big that it was almost as enormous as an entire classroom at UCLA.
The middle room was mine. I haven’t had the opportunity to unpack and my luggages were still downstairs, though I have seen what my chamber looked like. It was nice. Everything inside was white... a white door, white cabinets, white drawers, a white dresser... even the sheets were white. It was most probably used as the guest room before it was assigned to me, I thought to myself.
The room at the farthest end of the hallway was Hayden’s. If my room had a white motif, I was willing to bet that his had black for its theme. Just looking at his door reinforced my belief. It was painted with the darkest shade of black. What’s with him and that color, I wondered? His room was black. His Hummer... or what used to be his Hummer... was black. He had a preference for black clothing. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought that he was some kind of a devil worshipper.
I hesitated to knock on his door. I didn’t know what to say. Sure, I’ll just tell him that dinner was ready... but what if he gives me that stare... that look that says how much he wanted me... how much he desired me?
I took a deep breath and drew my hand, ready to tap on the ebony divide that protected his sector of that massive, massive house.
But before my knuckles could even touch the wooden surface of his door, a creaking sound emanated from the other end of the hallway.
The bathroom door.
He went out, merely garbed in the tiniest towel I’ve ever seen, the fabric was barely knotted on his hips as it struggled to cover the lower part of his body, revealing his muscular thighs and sturdy legs that started their stride towards his room... towards me.
He held another towel. He was wiping his hair dry as he walked, failing to see that I was there, outside his room, paralyzed, my hand still raised and prepared for a knock.
I fidgeted where I stood. I didn’t know what to do. He was almost naked and he was approaching me.
I had to think of something. Anything. Should I pretend to be looking around, familiarizing myself with my the surroundings? Should I just run past him and pray that he wouldn’t notice me, or at least, dismiss me as one of the household helps? Should I just act as if I was fainting, thereby eliminating the need for eye contact and a conversation?
I was thinking too much that I didn’t even notice how near he was to me.
He still wasn’t looking at where he was going, his attention consumed by his inclination to get his hair dry before he could even reach his room.
And I was still standing there, like a moron, with eyes and my mouth wide open, completely lost on how I should act or how I should respond or how I should deal with our impending encounter.
I was too shocked. I was too afraid. I was too paralyzed.
I was just too terrified.
Or was it even terror?
Could it be possible that I was mesmerized by his body? His rock solid chest? His washboard abs that glistened with the water that remained on his torso? His strong shoulders? His muscly biceps and his sinewy arms that appeared even more hunky as he lifted them up to guide the towel through his hair? His lean form that made all of his manly features more strapping without being stocky? The way he walked, carefree yet masculine in every way, which was totally different compared to his steps when he was confined by clothing?
A loud thump heralded the end of my musings... and perhaps, the end of my world as well.
He bumped into me with so much force that pushed me backwards towards the hard exterior of his door. He, too, bounced off me quite violently that it made him drop the towel that he was holding.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaimed in shock.
Then he looked at me... and for a second or two, he paused. He was speechless. Was it because he was startled? Or was it because of something else?
“You?” he finally asked incredulously. “What are you doing here?”
There was anger in his voice, one that made me feel how much he loathed me, how much he didn’t want me to be there.
I gulped.
Think, Phoebe, think! Don’t let him have the last say!
“What am I doing here?” I repeated his question, with a tone as furious as his. “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here? That’s my fucking room!”
Stupid, Phoebe. Really stupid...
“Yeah, and I’m just here to tell you that dinner is ready!” I screamed at him, with a tinge of pride at how I rebounded from the earlier debacle.
“You can go ahead without me,” he said with sudden coldness. “I’m going out, and I’m not really hungry.”
I didn’t expect my reply that followed. It just escaped my mouth like a savage scream after an eternity of torment.
“Don’t make this harder for everyone, Hayden.” I told him. “No one is really comfortable with this... this... this new setup. Don’t make it worse. For once in your life, stop acting like a spoiled brat. Stop feeling so entitled. Stop making problems worse, and for a change, start being part of the solution.”
Nice. Really, really nice, Phoebe.
He gave me a bewildered look. Have I managed to make him, the great Hayden Summersmith, feel defeated? Have I managed to make him feel dumbstruck?
Just as I was starting to bask in the glory of victory, he began to speak and turned things around.
“You think I’m a spoiled brat?” he asked with renewed fury. “You fucking think I’m a spoiled brat?” He was fuming with rage.
Be strong, Phoebe. Be strong. You can do this. You’ve hit him where it hurt. Just keep pushing. Just keep stabbing at that wound.
“Yes!” I resolutely yelled. “You’re a f...f...fucking spoiled brat! You’re a selfish scumbag! A self-centered jerk! A dirty scoundrel who lives off his dad’s riches! A stinking, conniving, conceited -”
“Dick?” he interrupted me.
What made him finish my statement? How did he know that it was the word I was going to say? And why the hell was he smirking all of a sudden?
“So... you want us to go down and have dinner with you guys?” he asked again, still with that oh so annoying snigger.
Wait. Did he just say us?
He extended his arms to his side as if he wanted to show me something. But what could he possibly reveal to me? He didn’t bring anything with him... just the towel that was draped around his...
Oh... my... Lord...
The impact of our collision caused his towel to drop and... and... and...
Look up, Phoebe! Don’t gawk at it!
I was shocked by the sight of his penis, hard and fully erect, pointing upwards towards me. It was the first time I’ve ever seen a man’s most private part... in person at least... and I had nothing else to compare it with. But at that moment, I didn’t think any kind of comparison was in order. I didn’t need a guide to know that it was big... it was epically big! We almost had sex more than a week ago, but he was behind me and I wasn’t able to to catch a glimpse of his... his... his tool. That has certainly changed...
Damn Phoebe! Look up! Now!
It was so long that it extended to the area just below his belly button. And its girth was frighteningly thick... it was almost as huge as a can of Pringles. I’m exaggerating, yes, but it surely looked that way at that particular instance.
Phoebe! Snap out of it! Look up! Hurry!
How could that thing fit into a woman’s vagina, I wondered? Just imagining it caused me to wince in pain.
Why are you imagining that kind of stuff, Phoebe? Look up! Now!
I was a big woman, but I didn’t think my opening would be big enough for that... that... that thing. Also, this blow job that Cindy always talked about... swallowing a man’s penis... how could that thing fit into a woman’s mouth?
“Like what you see?” he asked.
I immediately looked up and his eyes met mine. The smugness of his grin was infuriating. His vain attitude was intolerable. His heartless soul was maddening. His handsome face...
His handsome face with those gorgeous dimples...
It was... it was...
“For Christ’s sake, Hayden, cover yourself up!” I ordered him.
He just shrugged.
“I would, to preserve what little modesty I have left,” he replied. “But I couldn’t seem to find my towel.”
“Sheesh Hayden! Stop with the games!” I reached for the towel just below his feet. “It’s just right he-”
I wasn’t able to finish what I was saying. “Let me get it,” he said, as he went down for the same towel I was trying to get. My body was on his way, so he arched his torso to go over me. And that was when I felt it.
His penis.
On my cheek.
The rigidity of his shaft rubbing the smooth surface of my face. It was a violative act, but the manner by which his thing caressed me was anything but forceful. It was gentle. It was slow. It was like he wanted me to feel it, to enjoy it, to relish it.
I quickly grabbed the towel and pushed it towards his chest. He instinctively snatched it. I stood up and took a few steps backwards. I was breathing so fast that I had a difficult time catching my breath.
He was still smirking.
“Just... just... put the towel on, please,” I begged.
“Okay,” he answered. He placed the towel over his shoulder. “Happy now?”
I was flabbergasted by his sheer audacity and imprudence. He walked towards me and I hastily stepped aside, my back pressing against the wall. He didn’t even bother to avoid bumping into me. His arm rubbed against my breast as he strode past me. It was intentional. The leer he gave me told me that much.
“I want you to know that I’ll go down in a sec,” he said as he continued to his room. “But not necessarily for dinner.”
He didn’t even turn to look at me. My eyes followed him, giving me a good view of his back. Even his rear was virile.
And his ass. Firm. Well-toned. Was it also muscular?
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“That I’ll go down in a sec, but not necessarily for dinner,” he repeated. Then he looked at me and winked. “Who knows? I might go down on you.”
Chapter 31
HAYDEN
She was visibly affected by the stunt I pulled earlier. Over dinner, she kept moving restlessly on her seat, as if she was in great discomfort. I bet she was. How could she even feel comfortable in those very damp panties?
Watching her literally squirm in front of me as she saw me in all my resplendent glory was, admittedly, a very enjoyable experience. I always liked it whenever I drove a girl crazy, when she’d try her best not to show how affected she was with my naked body only to falter and unwittingly reveal some hints of her deepest,
darkest desires. For in those moments, they are most vulnerable... their defenses are at their weakest... and their simplest gestures would only tell me, unintended as it may be, that they are very much ripe for the taking.
“Glad you can join us for dinner tonight,” Martha said as she passed the bowl to her daughter. I haven’t joined them for anything since the wedding. I despised the new arrangements. I despised her presence in our home. I despised her.
