Hundred to One

by Freya Barker

  "You’re not like any woman I’ve ever known."

  "Huh. Not quite sure what to make of that, Seb. A man says something like that, you can take it either way."

  This makes him laugh harder.

  "S'all good, Spot." That's it. That's all he gives me, although I have to admit, the little nickname Spot is making me a little tingly. I guess it should make me feel like a dog, but it only makes me feel special. When he tries to pay for my purchases at the register though, I almost throw a full-fledged fit. No one pays for me. I can make my own money, I can spend my own money - end of story.

  "I'll let this one go, Arlene… For now." Accompanied by a stern look is enough of a warning to know that any future with us in it will need to involve a ton of compromise.

  We say little on the ride home but I can feel the tension rising. Seb had been very clear he expected us to do some talking at some point and I am second guessing my decision to open up a little with him. Other than the very disturbing find when we got back from picking our trees, I have had the best day I’ve had in a long time, and a large part of the reason is because Seb was there. What I know of him I like, but I realize I don't really know that much, so how do I know how he’ll react to what I have to say? With the little I told him before, he completely tensed up. What if I send him running?

  "Deep thoughts? I can see the steam coming out of your ears." I simply shrug my shoulders 'cause I don't really know what to say to that and I don't want to lie. Seb grabs my hand and puts it on his thigh with his covering mine.

  "Don't fret. It'll be fine," is all he says.

  Once home, we have all the stuff tucked away quickly, leaving decorations for the diner in his truck. Not in the mood right then to tackle the tree, I set out to make a cup of tea, hoping to get the inevitable out of the way rather than drag it out any longer. When I get inside, he;s sitting on the couch with his feet on the table, arm on the backrest. I choose to sit in the chair opposite him. I feel I need the distance but Seb apparently doesn't agree. Shaking his head no he stands up, leans over and tugs on my hand, yanking me up and half over the coffee table to where I’m dumped onto the couch where he manages to sit back down, right in time to catch me.

  "Seb, I think I need the distance." I try.

  "Don't think so."

  "But it'll be easier to talk when I'm over there." I plead.

  "Nope. It'll be easier to keep the walls up when you’re over there. I want you here, where you’re real. That's all I'm interested in. No tough act, no disconnect, no struggle and no walls. All I want is you, without pretense and as honest as you can be with yourself, I want you to be that with me. You grant me that – I’ll grant you the same thing." With his arm firmly around my shoulders, he tucks me to his side and plops his feet back on the table.

  Fuck me sideways. Already I have a lump the size of the Sleeping Ute Mountain in my throat and I haven't even started sharing yet.

  "Why don't you try telling me about the nightmares first?" Seb encourages and I'm thinking that's probably as good a place as any to start.

  "Okay, well… Usually they put me back in that cottage with Will Flemming, or sometimes in the crusher, seeing the ceiling coming down and not being able to get out. Hearing Kara scream and knowing Emma will be heartbroken if something happens to her daughter makes them all the more worse. The feelings of helplessness really suck and not so much for myself in those ones, but for not being able to do something for Kara. I'm mostly angry. I actually was mostly angry and antagonizing him while he had us, trying to keep his focus away from Kara and on me, but I'm thinking I may have taken it a bit too far." This is where I am very uncomfortable going on with my story and I’m fidgeting, which Seb notices right away. Covering my hands with his, he immediately steers me back to the dreams.

  "What about the ones in the cottage?"

  "That's the hard part. See, I could hardly remember any of it initially except for flashes, but after I got better, larger chunks of time came back. I didn't want to remember, I don't want to remember, and the more I push it away, the darker and more frequent the nightmares become. Then when the phone calls started up, they got out of control and I'm almost afraid to close my eyes."

  Seb shifts in his seat and moves me forward to slide one leg behind me on the couch and pulls me so my back is against his front and his arms completely surround me.

  "Feel me at your back?" His gruff voice sounds right by my ear.

  "Yeah." I manage to get out.

  "You feel safe here, with my arms around you?"

  "I do. But I'm afraid if I let it out, I can't reel it back in. If I allow myself to remember, I'm gonna fall apart."

  "Not possible." His arms tighten and he kisses my hair. "You are a rock, and you might slide or threaten to be washed away, but wherever you'd end up, you would still be a rock. And I'm holding on so you'll never get far, and I won't allow you to fall apart."

  Taking a few deep breaths, I give him what I know.

  "I remember lying on the floor with my head turned to the side and there was blood all around me. At first I thought I must be dead because there seemed to be so much of it, but I realized later some of it was from someone who was lying just inside the kitchen and wasn't moving. Our blood had pooled so close together it looked like one big puddle. I can recall some ripping sounds that I couldn't quite place at first, but later realized what they were. Next time I was on my stomach but facing the wall now and I was in a lot of pain and tried screaming, but there was a hand around my mouth. I tried to bite him but he hissed in my ear that he liked it when they fight, so I stopped."

  I feel Seb freeze behind me when he realizes what I am describing to him, so I grab his hands and pull them tighter around me. "You promised to be my safe place." Immediately he makes an effort to relax.

  "At some point I passed out again until I woke up to his face in my face, calling me names. Every time I tried to turn my head away he would slap me so my ears would ring. I hardly felt anything after the first few times, but I made him mad when he grabbed another condom - he had unwrapped a bunch of them and lined them up beside me for easy access - and couldn't roll it on 'cause his dick was too soft. I made a remark and he got so mad he rolled me again, managing to violate me again that way, except he also damaged me."

  "H-how" Seb breathes out behind me, almost soundless.

  "I needed stitches."

  "Jesus."

  I don't know what to say so I say nothing, but the tears are now rolling down my cheeks as I stare at the wall, waiting for him to get up and say he can't deal. Instead I find myself flat on my back on the couch with Seb looming over me, using his hands and his lips to clear the tears from my face. I'm afraid to breathe.

  "More than ever, I wish I had killed him."

  I simply nod.

  "Seb…"

  "Yes, Spot."

  "It's in my medical records and the police know. I found out when I was brought to the hospital but I didn't remember at that time. I've told no one since. Joe knows because of the investigation and doesn't talk about it, and for some reason, Caleb has guessed something more happened than I will say. Emma suspects there are after-effects that I’m not dealing with very well, but she doesn't even know any of this. It came back in bits and pieces and I'm still missing parts, but the nightmares are vivid and very real."

  "Not gonna talk, Arlene. That's yours to tell. Also not going anywhere, if that's what you were expecting."

  "I don't know what I was expecting. Actually − that's a lie." I confess. "It wasn't anything good. Sorry." He’s not letting me turn my head away when I try to avoid his eyes. I don't see any judgment or blame, no pity either. I only see warmth and concern. Perhaps a bit of anger on my behalf, but I am convinced now it's not at me. Strange how even telling one person can make you feel a little lighter.

  Slowly becoming aware of Seb's solid body resting on mine with his hips wedged between my legs, I can feel my heart rate pick up. Without much conscious effort, my hands th
at were loosely holding on to the sides of his shirt start making their way around his back, following every curve of his muscles. I spread my fingers wide, trying to keep maximum contact as I slide them up to grab his shoulders and attempt to pull him further down on to me. I don't want to break eye contact, but I suddenly want his mouth on mine desperately. With a deep growl he tilts his head to the side and slams his mouth on mine with a hunger that leaves no doubt he wants me just as bad. One elbow rests beside me in the pillows of the couch, keeping some of his weight off me while the other starts a slow but firm perusal of my neck, shoulder and down to my breast, where he encounters a nipple peaked so tight it’s almost painful. With another loud groan that our fused lips drown, his hand changes position and starts at my waist, sliding up under my shirt impatiently. Pushing my utilitarian bra out of the way, he rubs the palm of his hand over the hard tip of my breast, almost causing me to jump off the couch the sensation is so electric.

  "Oh God, Seb…" Escapes my lips as I tear away from his mouth, overwhelmed by all these foreign sensations.

  "Easy, Babe. I've got you." He says, shifting his attention and his nimble tongue to my now exposed breast.

  I arch my back off the couch, trying to force him to suck more of me into his mouth, getting frustrated with any distance remaining. A blind need is making me wiggle my hips against his, trying to relieve some of this pressure.

  "Am I gonna find you wet, Spot? If I put my fingers inside of you, are you gonna be wet for me?" With his dark eyes fixed on mine, he’s willing me to answer, but all I can do is nod. The sounds I'm emitting are breathy and mostly incoherent. Fuck. I've never been this needy − this eager.

  Seb eases his hand in the front of my jeans that have become too big on me lately, finding me slick as promised.

  "Fuck me. You're drenched."

  I have nothing to say 'cause when his thick callused fingers find that little bundle of nerves begging for attention, my synapses fires off all over, blanking my brain instantly.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Goddamn.

  So fucking responsive. She went off like a rocket with a single touch and I barely contained myself from coming like a schoolboy, save for the single session that I paid for when I just got out, I had five years, plus another eight months of my own hand for company, all because I’ve craved the taste of a woman, this woman.

  Slowly pulling my hand out of her jeans, I wait until her eyes open and her heavy lidded gaze finds mine. I lift the fingers that were just inside her to my mouth and slide them inside. The combination of the smell and taste of her arousal, combined with the now wide open heated gaze she fixes on me floods my senses. I want nothing more than to rip off her clothes and take all of her in, but a slight flicker of insecurity that skims over her face as my eyes devour her calls me to an instant halt.

  Crap. I can't do this. I can't jump her after all she told me tonight. No way in hell is that alright, but when I start lifting myself up off her, she clamps on to my shoulders.

  "Hey. Where are you going?"

  "No need to rush things." I say, bending down to brush my lips over hers.

  "But you…" She motions at the obvious strain behind my zipper where the rock hard evidence of my own arousal is causing quite a bit of discomfort.

  "That can wait. What I couldn't wait for was tasting you. Fuckin' delicious." Kissing her again, I stand up and look at her splayed out on the couch. Something stirs in my chest and I know I still have some clearing of the air to do myself, but I'm thinking we've done enough for tonight. Arlene doesn't say anything, but from the way she is straightening her shirt, I'm thinking at least part of her is relieved for the temporary reprieve.

  By the time the phone rings, we’ve made some decent headway with the tree; lights are up and only a few decorations are left to be hung. I haven't touched the subject of her ex or the phone calls yet, choosing to enjoy the comfortable silence and occasional touch as we work.

  "Hey Joe, what's up?" I can hear Arlene say before listening for a response from the other end. "Let me check with Seb, but that should be ok. Julie is coming in for the lunch shift so provided she is on time, I can make it for one. Is this for the trial?"

  Keeping an eye on her from the corner of my eye, I can see her twisting the cord around her fingers. Shit. We can't both go during the lunch hour and I don't like the idea of her having to go alone. Walking over, I hold out my hand for the phone, but all I get is a raised eyebrow.

  "Can I talk to Joe for a sec?"

  "Why?"

  "Need to ask something." Damn stubborn woman. Reluctantly she hands over the phone.

  "Joe, Seb here. Can you hang on one sec? Thanks." Holding the handset against my stomach I pull a stormy-faced Arlene toward me with one hand behind her neck until our noses touch.

  "Listen, I'm gonna ask for later in the afternoon. I don't like the idea of you doing this alone." The moment I see her trying to protest I cut her off. "Hear me out, Spot. You trusted me tonight. I think you realize I'm pretty serious about you so give me this play. I want to be there for you when you come out." When no answer is forthcoming, I drop down a little and look into her eyes that she has been stubbornly aiming at my chin. "Please?"

  Blinking, her face softens a little and she shrugs her shoulders. I'll take it as a yes.

  "Joe - Sorry about that. Listen, is it possible to make it an hour later? That way we’re sure the lunch rush is done and we have a chance to get Beth to come in as well. I'm driving her to Cortez. That okay?" I never break eye contact during my conversation with Joe until he drops a bit of a bomb, then they fly toward the window. "Uh huh. I see… You want to ask now? Can't it wait until tomorrow? Fine, but you do realize it’s 9:30 at night, right?"

  Arlene is trying to grab the phone out of my hand, having caught on to the fact that we’re talking about her.

  What? She’s mouthing at me with big eyes. I hand over the phone but am not happy about it, especially not when I see her face lose all color and her eyes blinking furiously, yet she completely surprises me when I hear her say, "Can't think of anything right now but if I do, I will let you know."

  "What the fuck was that, Arlene? You blowing smoke up his ass?"

  "Don't know what you're talking about." She waves her hand as if I'm some dumb pesky fly as she turns around and goes straight up the stairs, leaving me to stare after her, trying to figure out what the hell just happened.

  Joe mentioned the vet had a quick peek at the cat we found this afternoon and had concluded the cat had been pregnant and close to delivery when it was killed. The kittens were killed in the womb. He had wanted to know whether that would have any significance for Arlene and although her response to Joe denied it, her body language told me the complete opposite. That was absolutely something significant to her!

  I’m jumping up the stairs two at a time and I march over to her bedroom, but it's empty, although I hear noises from the bathroom. Standing right outside the door I can hear water running, but just underneath that there is the distinct sound of retching.

  "Arlene, open the door!"

  "I'm fine. Be right out."

  "You're not fine and if you don't open up, I'm coming in by force if I have to. Arlene?"

  "Hold on! You frickin' bully… can't a person have some peace in her own house!" I can hear her sputter as she unlocks the door.

  "I call bullshit."

  From her red splotchy face, the watery eyes and the distinct sour odor in the bathroom, I can guess dinner ended up in the toilet. I walk over and wrap her in my arms tightly, putting my cheek on her head, ignoring the struggling woman in my arms.

  "Be still."

  "Let me go. I smell!"

  "Don't care. Something’s wrong. Something made you upset enough to cause you to be sick and I need to hold you, so stop struggling for a minute, will you?" Slowly I can feel her reluctance making place for some semblance of relaxation when I refuse to budge. Once a little shivery sigh leaves her lips, I take a step back, kis
s her forehead and look around for a washcloth to clean up her face a little. When I notice she’s managed to get some on herself and apparently also on me, my decision is made. Leaning into the tub. I turn on the shower and start peeling off my shirt.

  "What are you doing?"

  "We're cleaning up." I say matter-of-factly as I kick off my boots and drop my jeans.

  "Are you nuts?" She's getting a full head of steam worked up now. I can see it.

  "No, but you were upset enough to puke on yourself. You'll feel better when you have a shower, and so will I. Besides, I'm not about to leave you alone." Grabbing her face in my hands I lean in. "I am not going to take advantage of you. I'm simply going to be with you, that's all. Now let me help you."

  Then just like that, all the fight is gone from her. Her face is still white as a sheet and not looking at me, she allows me to help her out of her clothes. I’m doing my best not salivate over every inch of her delicate skin that’s revealed. Her body is so fucking soft and dusted with freckles everywhere. I try to keep my eyes above her shoulders but it isn't easy when I'm peeling down her jeans and panties. My cock isn't listening either, but there isn't a damn thing I can do about that except hope she realizes my response to her is a compliment to her gorgeous body and not because I can't control myself. Arlene isn't noticing much of anything right now though. She willingly allows me to guide her into the shower while I shed my socks and my boxers before joining her under the spray.

  Determined to keep this as non-sexual as I can, I make quick work of washing her hair and by the time I’ve done my own, she’s going through the motions of washing herself. A quick rinse off and I'm out and ready for her with a towel. Both dry, she doesn't even complain when I slide into bed with her and scoop her up and tuck her against me with her head on my shoulder. Neither of us say another word, although I’m hoping she’ll eventually say something, sooner rather than later, I hope.