by Ellie Danes
Once again, I felt that tension hit a point that was almost unbearable, and then all at once it broke, exploding from somewhere deep inside of me, and I buried my face against his shoulder as I came, harder than even the time before, so hard that it almost scared me. Waves of pleasure didn’t just wash through me--they crashed against my brain, like one tsunami after another, until I was almost afraid that I would never stop coming.
Weston managed to hold back, managed to keep going, and just as I felt the pleasure starting to slow down, starting to get less intense, I felt him shudder against me, heard him moan out long and low, and then he started really pounding into me.
The hot, sticky-slick gush of him deep inside of me sent me into another orgasm--or maybe just a deepening of the one I’d already been having--and we both kept moving until neither of us could budge an inch anymore. We collapsed to the bed, panting and gasping, tangled up in each other, and I felt that same feeling again--the electric, tingling caress throughout every nerve in my body, almost too much to bear, but so nice that I couldn’t quite wish it would stop.
I giggled, shaking my head and making myself breathless all over again, even as Weston kissed me lazily and held me tight. I felt the way that I thought religious converts felt when they had their moment of revelation. I felt like someone who’d suddenly gained the ability to see colors they’d never known existed.
I finally calmed down a little bit, and Weston rolled off of me, smiling. “Not bad, huh?”
“No, not bad at all,” I agreed, feeling warm and loose and utterly content.
“I’m going to get a shower,” he told me. “If you want to join me…”
I shook my head. I had a soreness between my hips, an ache between my legs--but it was a pleasant ache, a nice kind of pain that I hoped would linger for a little while, a reminder of what had happened.
“I don’t even have the legs to get up right now,” I told him. “Have fun.”
“I always do,” Weston said. He gave me a quick, impulsive kiss on the forehead, and went into the bathroom.
There was nothing for us after the weekend. We’d part ways, and while it was good to know that I could orgasm, I didn’t think it was likely I’d get another one with someone else. I pushed the thought out of my head and curled up on the bed, hanging in the golden pleasure that seemed to seep through my veins with every beat of my heart.
Chapter Twenty
Weston
“So, today’s the prom,” I said to Ashley over a late brunch the next morning. There were surprisingly few people in the hotel’s dining room. Probably a lot of them are preparing for the prom.
“It’s not really prom, but it’s a dance,” Ashley said absently.
I’d found her asleep on the bed the night before and instead of waking her up--it didn’t seem fair, somehow--I’d climbed in on the other side of the bed and just slept next to her. By the time I’d dragged myself awake in the morning, we’d been cuddled up, and Ashley had nearly jumped out of her skin in realization, shifting away from me like I might have the plague, and apologizing for intruding on my personal space.
“So, I was wondering something,” I said, glancing around the room to make sure that no one could be eavesdropping on us. I’d gotten eggs benedict and a load of hash browns, and the hotel had managed to do both pretty well. Alongside their coffee, I thought I could recommend their dining services pretty wholeheartedly.
“What’s that?” Ashley looked up from her pancakes and bacon.
“I was hoping you’d give me another crack at your agency’s files.”
Ashley looked at me for a long moment, and I got myself ready--mentally--to argue with her about it.
“If you really want to get the information now, I can give you my login credentials,” she said.
I was stunned. “Just like that? No restrictions?”
“It’s about your adoption,” Ashley told me. “You need some names and info, and I know you won’t do anything illegal with them. I trust you.”
I thought about telling her about the life I lived now--just for a second—but I couldn’t, not yet.
I’d been itching for more information--to finally get my answers, or know that there was no way to get them--ever since I’d discovered they were finally within reach. I was so close to finding out what I needed to know that I almost couldn’t stand to wait any longer.
“I can give you my login credentials for those specific databases, but not for anything else,” Ashley said. “When do you want to do it?”
“Well if you were going to get ready for the dance with Jess, I could do it then,” I said. “I mean, just because we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, doesn’t mean we have to be together every minute of the trip.” My fingers were itching to get on a keyboard, my brain felt like it was being tickled.
“Once we’re done here, I’ll give you the logins, and the links,” she said. She sounded a little sad, and I wondered why. She’d gotten what she wanted--and it wasn’t like I was going to abandon her at this point. Even if I had wanted to, I couldn’t get out of town.
“Just tell your friends I had accounting stuff that came up, or something for my restaurants,” I said.
“It’s not that--it’s just that I’m kind of bummed that it’s the tail end of this,” Ashley said.
“I didn’t know you were so into being social,” I said with a laugh.
“I like being social with you around,” she said. “But it’ll be fine. I’ll meet you at the banquet hall for the dance. Sound good?”
“I’ll meet you there,” I promised.
We finished up brunch just in time for some more of Ashley’s classmates to arrive, and I made excuses for us to leave. Ashley promised to chat more with them at the dance, and we headed up to our room so she could get her dress and make-up.
Once we were in our room, she found a pen and paper. “This will only get you to the adopted children database,” she said, scribbling something quickly on the sheet. She added something else underneath it. “This is the records site for the parents who gave up kids. The login is only good for that. Don’t even try to use it elsewhere--you might get me locked out and then I’ll have to explain.”
She looked at me firmly and I grinned.
“I promise you, this is the only information I’m looking for,” I said. “Can I use your laptop, or do I need to use one of the hotel’s computers?”
“Better if you use mine--they know it’s authorized.” She sighed. “Password to get on is Adirondak4639. Capital A.”
“That’s an interesting password,” I said.
Ashley shrugged. “Just find what you need,” she told me, managing a smile. “I’ll see you at the dance.”
She gathered her things and left the room with a forced smile on her face. I couldn’t wait to get into the database. I found Ashley’s laptop in her luggage, put in her personal password, and opened up a browser to check the first of the databases that I needed to look at. I logged in, holding my breath as the page loaded the verification, and there it was. Children Served by Us.
I pressed my lips together and tried to think of what name to search for. Would it be under my adoptive name, or my name before adoption? If it was the second one, I had no chance--I didn’t even know what my pre-adoption last name had been. I could--I thought--do a search just based on first name.
I thought about it a moment longer and made up my mind. I felt a tingle work down my spine as I typed in my first name. At first, the results field said it found nothing, and my stomach sank halfway to my knees, making me regret getting extra hollandaise on my benedict. But a second or two later, I saw One result found!
I opened it up and saw a picture of a child, aged three. My heart leaped up into my throat and I scrolled down. Adoptive parents of record: Janice and Raymond Nolan. Those were my parents. I looked over my own file, feeling weirdly like a voyeur. I’d been given to the agency that Ashley worked for at the age of two, given up by birth parents. I’d been assessed a
t above-average intelligence for my age, diagnosed with minor behavioral issues “consistent with an unstable attachment to birth parents.” Nowhere on the file were my birth parents listed, which disappointed me--but then I reminded myself that I had the other database to look through. I saw the records for the interview the agency had done with me and my new parents before I’d been sent home with them, and shook my head at my own childish answers.
I hadn’t been Weston Nolan before that, though. I looked through the attached files until I found what my birth name had been. Weston Cartwright. That, at least, should help me find at least one--if not both--of my parents.
I opened up a new tab and put in the web address that Ashley had given me for the birth parents database, and waited impatiently for it to load. I logged in, feeling tense but less full of dread, and when the search option came up I put in my last name at birth.
There were about a half-dozen Cartwrights, and I scrolled through the results until I found one attached to my birth name. Genevieve Cartwright, Alexander Cartwright. That was what I needed to know. That was what I’d been trying to find for years.
Relief flooded through me and for a second I just sat there, my eyes closed, breathing in the realization that the missing puzzle piece was finally there.
I wrote down the names and their information and closed out both databases, opening a new window and putting in the web addresses for some records searches I knew about, that a private investigator had shown me in the past. I put in my parents’ names, opening a new tab for each search I wanted to run, and switched between them, waiting for information.
Genevieve Cartwright was dead. My heart sank as I read through her obituary. She’d died when I was seventeen, not survived by anyone--she hadn’t even still been with my birth-father, though she’d kept his name, and her other two kids had died before her in an accident at the home.
It was just as I’d expected, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.
Alexander Cartwright, my birth father, had passed away more recently. He had been living in another state, about a day’s drive from my place in the city. He’d had a criminal record, but nothing too intense. Apparently, my birth parents had put me up for adoption right around the time my birth father had been getting ready to go to jail on a plea deal for grand theft. I couldn’t entirely blame them for that--but it still hurt to know I’d been given up at such a young age, rejected as a child.
I closed everything out and cleared the history, shut down the computer, and put it aside. I’d promised Ashley I’d catch up with her at the dance, but for a few minutes I just sat in the room, trying to make sense of what I’d found out about my own past. It was a relief in one sense, to finally know. But I had no idea what to do next. I’d been searching for answers for so long, and now I had them. Now what?
It was time to start living my life as a free man who had won the knowledge of his past. No more secrets, no more holding back.
“I’d better get to her,” I told myself, more to stir myself into leaving the room than anything else. I tried to think of someone I could talk to about what I’d found out, but I couldn’t bring a single name to mind. My adoptive parents had died a few years before, leaving me with their estate. I didn’t have any siblings, and my friends weren’t the type that I would normally talk about something like this with.
I thought about talking to Ashley about it--I’d even promised myself I’d explain everything after I had the information. But we’d be around her classmates for the next several hours, and I wasn’t about to risk making the whole thing go pear-shaped for the sake of bouncing my troubled thoughts off of her. After the dance, I’d talk to her about it. I’d see what she had to say.
I took a shower, shaved, and dressed for the dance so I could see my fake girlfriend and make sure she had the time of her life.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ashley
Jess and I got ready, helping each other with our make-up and hair. I brushed her hair out and damped it down, and showed her--from my own experience--how to get the beachy, wavy curls she wanted to go with her strapless dress.
“You look amazing,” I said, clapping my hands.
“All thanks to you,” she said, beaming. “You look pretty hot, yourself.”
“Aw, this?” I struck a pose, and we took a few selfies to celebrate how incredible we looked.
“I know he’s just a boyfriend for the weekend,” Jess said, “but maybe there’s more to this guy than that.”
“No, it’ll all end with the reunion.” I sighed.
“Don’t be so sure…especially not after he sees you all dolled up like this!”
I checked my phone. “It’s almost time for the dance to start. Shall we head down?”
“Just going to re-touch my nail polish,” she said. “Go on down, I’ll see you there.”
We air-kissed so we wouldn’t smudge our lipstick, and then I hurried down the hallway, wanting to get down to the banquet hall in time to meet Weston.
I was still hidden around the corner in the hall when I heard two women--Manda and Gwyn--chatting a few feet ahead of me. I stopped with just enough time to avoid literally running into them.
“...sure, she’s hot but she’s the same she’s always been,” Manda said.
“You really don’t think that she’d stoop that low, do you?” Gwyn asked her.
Curious, I stayed hidden around the corner. I wondered who they were talking about.
“Ashley? Of course she would. Come on, Gwyn. She hasn’t even posted about having a date in like--two years.”
My heart pounded so loud, it seemed amazing they couldn’t hear it too. Why were they still intent on bringing me down? Hadn’t high school been bad enough?
“That doesn’t mean anything, though,” Gwyn countered. “She might just be private, you know?”
“Yeah but just because she’s hot doesn’t mean she’s got what it takes to hold onto a guy like that,” Manda insisted.
My heart pounded in my chest and I followed them, hoping against hope that they wouldn’t realize I was behind them, listening. As soon as I’d heard my name I had to know what they were saying about me.
“So maybe they just haven’t been dating that long,” Gwyn proposed.
“I don’t think they’re dating at all,” Manda said. “She probably hired him from some modeling agency or something.”
They reached the elevator and I hung back, feeling waves of embarrassment washing over me. I couldn’t possibly announce myself then. I couldn’t face them after what they’d just said. They were as close to right as they could be, of course--but I wasn’t going to admit that, and I hated--hated--that they’d managed to see through my story.
I heard them get onto the elevator while talking about what kind of ad I must have put in the classifieds to find a hot guy like Weston. I wanted to cry. But I had to keep focused. This nightmare of a reunion wasn’t over yet. I waited long enough for them to be well out of the way and went to the elevator, pushing the button a good seven or eight times in my hurry.
By the time the elevator deposited me on the correct floor, I’d managed to get myself under control. Manda and Gwyn were nowhere in sight, thankfully.
Weston stood outside the hall, a strange expression on his face.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
I nodded, but I felt my eyes well with tears.
“Aw, babe. Talk to me,” he said.
I accepted his hug, then abruptly pulled away. How could I take the comfort he offered when I knew that, after tonight, we would likely never see each other again?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Weston
She pulled away from me and I reached for her again automatically. She shook her head, though, and kept her distance. I looked up and down the hall, because several of her classmates were arriving and looking at us curiously as they passed through the banquet hall doors to the dance.
“What is it?” I asked. I gestured her closer.
She shrugged, but took a step toward me. Softly, she said, “I’ve been thinking about it and this whole thing is stupid.”
“What happened? Did Jess get the same dress as you or something?” I joked.
Ashley glared at me and the full heat of her look made me instantly regret the bad joke.
“Really, what happened?” I asked. “Obviously something did.”
“On my way here, I overheard Manda and Gwyn talking.”
I gestured for her to go on.
She said, “They were talking about me.”
“What did they say?”
She grimaced and then gave me a wry smile. In a quiet voice, she said, “That I probably hired you from a modeling agency to pretend to be my boyfriend because in spite of being hot, I suck at life.”
I stared at her for a long moment. “They think you’re paying me?”
She nodded.
I gently led her farther down the hall, away from the curious stares of her former classmates. There was a part of me that wanted to come clean to her right then--completely clean, about more than just why I’d needed her work access. But I pushed that idea out of my head. I remembered something I’d tucked away for a rainy day, something I’d won in a poker game, that might come in handy--and in that moment, if Ashley was willing to be a little daring, it would come in handy indeed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
I found my wallet in my slacks and dug around in the change pocket until I found what I wanted. I took the ring out and showed it to Ashley.
“Think getting proposed to and being engaged to me after tonight would shut their bimbo mouths?” It was a respectable ring: a three-carat sapphire, perfect and unflawed, surrounded by diamonds and set in white gold. Truth was, I intended to give it back to my buddy when he finally got up the balls to ask his girl to marry him. In the meantime, it could be a prop for a good fake engagement.
