by B. B. Hamel
That’s when he pulls me by the waist against him and kisses me.
That makes up my mind. I kiss him back, and I know I’m not going to talk about the story anymore. Maybe I followed him up here to try and press him for details, or maybe I’m just lying to myself. This whole night I’ve been thinking about this, about kissing him, about having him. I was attracted to him the second we met, although I thought he was an asshole at first.
He may still be an asshole, but he’s not a simple one, at least.
He pulls me into his room, still kissing me, and lets the door shut behind us.
He presses me up against the wall, his lips against my neck, his hands on my body. My heart’s beating so fast I can barely breathe and his strong hands slowly move down my hips, cupping my ass.
“Are you ready to go too far?” he whispers in my ear.
“What do you mean?”
He pulls back, a smirk on his lips. “I dare you to fuck me, Mia.”
And so I break every rule. I’m supposed to keep my subjects at a distance. I’m not supposed to get emotionally or physically invested in them.
I’m definitely not supposed to let them take off my clothes, press me down on the bed, and tongue my pussy until I can’t stop moaning.
He’s incredible. I’ve never been with a man so aggressive and yet so gentle, like he knows when to push my body and when to stop. And when I get on my knees and pull his boxer briefs down, I’m not at all surprised to find that his cock matches his physique perfectly. He’s long, thick, and I can barely take him into my mouth as I suck his cock nice and hard, making him groan.
He fucks me rough from behind. He slaps my ass, pulls my hair, whispers in my ear. He gets me off, and gets me off again, and leaves me quivering on the bed as he comes on my full breasts.
I fall asleep not long later, with his lean, muscular body pressed against mine. I’ve never felt so satisfied or completed in my entire life, and although I don’t mean to stay over, I can’t seem to make myself get out of bed.
In the morning, the light streams in through the window, almost harsh. Ethan’s gone, with nothing but a note scribbled on hotel stationary on his pillow. I pick it up and read it.
Had fun last night. Stay as late as you want, the room’s paid until tomorrow. Make me look better than I am in your story. Ethan.
I smile to myself and collapse back against the pillows, wondering how I found myself here, dizzy with the memory of him.
2
Ethan
Remmel Mountain looms up ahead of me as I steer my Jeep along the rocky terrain.
Not many people live out around here. There’s no ice thaw, just a permafrost under the ground. The wilderness is scraggly, craggy, barren. There are mainly evergreen forests around here, though not exactly thick and plentiful. There are a few lakes, natural little waterways that keep the wildlife fed, and some tourists like to climb to the top. There’s not much to see, to be totally honest, and that’s exactly why I live out here, in the middle of nowhere.
I don’t live on Remmel, not exactly. I live in a shadowy little alcove at the base of Remmel, off the beaten trail, well away from the normal tourist attractions. And those unusual tourists that do happen to come across my land typically don’t even realize my house is there. It’s an expensive, almost lush place on the inside, but the outside was carefully built to mimic the local surroundings as much as possible. It blends into the landscape from a distance, so it’s pretty easy to miss.
It cost a fortune, but it’s mine, along with the land surrounding it. My closest neighbor is an hour away, and if I ever need medical attention, they’d have to send a helicopter for me. It’s my fortress, my safe house, and my prison.
The closest town is a two-hour drive, and I only head in there when I absolutely need supplies. I was running low on gasoline, so I decided to grit my teeth and make the damn trip instead of bugging Shelly for some like I normally do. I’m well stocked up, enough to last me through the winter and more, even if the snows kill the electricity, which they almost always do.
I wind my way up my long, dirty driveway until my house comes into view. It’s more of a mansion made to look like a cabin that blends in with the surroundings. I pull around the side and park in a little garage built into the side of the house. I climb out of the truck and I hear Jones barking as he comes running down the ridge.
I smile to myself. Jones has the land to himself, mostly at least. He knows to stay away from the biggest animals, like the occasional bear, but otherwise I let him run around when he wants to. He’s never gone out of whistle-range before, so I let him do whatever he wants, as long as he comes back when I call.
“There you are,” I say as he scampers into the garage, throwing himself at my shins. I grin at him, scratching his butt and patting his side. “Missed you too, bud.”
He pants at me as I unload the Jeep. I carry the gas cans over into the little storage rack against the wall before heading inside. I take off my boots in the hallway and kick them aside.
My house slowly powers up as I walk into the main room. It’s all state of the art and motion-based smart technology. Somewhat beyond me, but pretty fucking fancy. I head into my kitchen and pour myself a drink, looking out across the great hall living room through the big windows that give me a great view of the valley and the lake at its center.
It’s the same view, day in and day out. It never changes, and that’s what I both love and hate about it. I’m here for a reason, I have to remind myself as I shoot back my whisky and pour another one. I’m here because I have to be.
I pad down into the living room and turn on the stereo. Steely Dan’s Aja starts playing and I let it run, turning it down slightly. I sit on the couch, kicking my feet up on the coffee table as the fireplace under the television jumps to life suddenly.
I grab my laptop and flip it open. I quickly do a Google search for my own name, but nothing pops up. I frown a little bit. It’s been a month since I did that interview with Mia, although I didn’t give her all that much to write about. I told her to make it up if she wanted, and I haven’t heard anything since, so I assumed she was writing something.
Maybe not. Murray wasn’t happy with how I blew her off, which is fine. I get it. The whole profile was his idea, and while I didn’t agree with it, I made the damn trip anyway. I’m not sure why; maybe some misguided sense of loyalty to my father, although he’s been dead for a few years now.
I search for Mia’s name next, and I find a few recent things by her, just little puff pieces for Murray’s paper. She’s a good writer, and I can’t stop thinking about that night we spent together. It’s not because she’s the most recent woman I’ve been with, although that’s part of it. There aren’t exactly a ton of beautiful women out here ready to sleep with me.
I’ve had plenty of beautiful women in the past, but Mia, she was something special. I keep thinking about her, almost every night now, wondering why the hell I left in the morning. I was supposed to spend another day in the city, and I easily could have spent it all in bed with her. Instead, I ran away, leaving her that fucking note.
Well, nothing we can do about it now. I sigh and push my laptop aside. I stare at the fire for a second until I hear the screams again, and I’m forced to push some whisky down my throat, savoring the burn.
The screams are the reason I’m here, hiding out in the wilderness. They’re quieter out here, maybe because they don’t have to try and drown out a city. But I can still hear them anyway, the cries of men burning alive, the sounds that haunt me every single day of my life.
I finish my whisky and tear myself away from the fire. I don’t need to fall into a fucking pity fest. I hear Jones barking outside, so I go let him in. He curls up on the rug in the living room near the fireplace and I pour myself another drink, turning up the music to try and distract myself from the dark thoughts that always threaten to intrude into my life.
As I’m trying to decide what to make myself for dinner, my p
hone starts to ring. I head over and pick it up. My phone’s this big satellite thing. It doesn’t run on the normal cell network, but on a specific satellite that’s always up in the sky near here. It’s another expensive luxury, but this one’s actually necessary for survival.
I know who it is before I even answer. “Hi, Shelly,” I say, since she’s one of the handful of people that have this number.
“Hi, Ethan,” she says, her voice gravelly from years of smoking and yelling at her family.
“Missed you in town earlier.”
“Yeah, well, been busy. What brought you in?”
“Gas,” I say. “What else?”
“Could’ve got that for you,” she grumbles.
“That’s okay. It’s good to get out sometimes.”
“Can’t deny that.” She pauses a second. “Listen, I called about something strange.”
I narrow my eyes. “Strange how?”
“Someone’s asking for you back here.”
I take a sharp breath, and my pulse jumps in my neck. “Who?” I manage to say.
“Young girl. Really pretty. Dark hair, little wavy, pretty mouth. Looks lost as hell, poor little bird.”
I let out a breath. That’s not what I expected, not at all. “What’s her name?”
“Says it’s Mia,” Shelly says.
My eyes widen a little bit. What the hell, Mia? Why would she be out here?”
“What does she want?”
“She’s looking for you,” Shelly says, laughing. “But I told her not to bother. You don’t wanna be found, and plus, there’s a storm coming.”
I frown. “How bad?”
“Bad,” Shelly says, although she always says that. Still, a bad storm could mean I’m stuck up here for a week or more. Good thing I got that fucking gasoline.
I stare at the floor then out the window at the view that’s always the same. I can’t help but remember Mia that night, her body against mine, her moans hot in my ear.
“I’ll see her,” I blurt out, not sure why.
“You sure?” Shelly asks, surprised.
“I’m sure.”
“She might get stuck there.”
“I’ll see her,” I say again. “I’ll pay you, if you bring her up.”
“No need to fucking pay me, Ethan,” Shelly snaps at me. “Guess I’ll be seeing you soon.”
She hangs up the phone and I slowly lower mine back down onto the counter.
Mia is here, but I have no fucking clue why. She hasn’t gotten in touch, although she couldn’t do that even if she tried. I stupidly told her where I live, and she must have gone into the biggest town near Remmel Mountain, asking around if anyone heard of me. Thankfully Shelly’s there and found her, or else I don’t know what would happen.
Now she’s coming here, and I don’t know why. She came all the way across the country for this, so I can’t very well turn her away. Still, I fucking want to send her packing.
I’ll talk to her, and I’ll drive her back to town myself tonight if I have to. Letting her come up was a weakness, one I shouldn’t let myself indulge in.
I don’t deserve weakness, not anymore. I drink another whisky and stare out the window, not sure what’s coming for me.
3
Mia
I find myself in the middle of nowhere, which shouldn’t surprise me, but everything about Ethan seems to surprise me.
It’s a small town, which is probably an understatement. There’s nothing around here except parks and mountains, stretching all the way around town. Remmel Mountain is due north of here, apparently, and everyone snorts when I ask about it.
“Why’d you want to go there?” an old guy in a faded denim shirt asks me.
“A friend of mine lives there,” I say.
He cackles. “Nobody lives up by fucking Remmel except bears and elk.”
I leave it at that, thanking him for his time. So far, that’s about how all my interactions have gone. At least there’s a little motel to stay at here. I couldn’t say the same for the last town, and I ended up sleeping in my rental car.
I ask myself why the fuck I’m here for the hundredth time, and for the hundredth time I feel that strange twinge of panic and fear. I push it aside as I drive through Winthrop, looking for somewhere I can stop.
I spot a bar up at the next intersection and decide to go in there for a drink, maybe a burger if they have one. I park outside and head in, and the place is pretty crowded. It’s probably the only bar in the whole town, so all the drinkers are here tonight, looking for some way to pass the time in this tiny little place.
I miss the city again, and I remember the way Ethan laughed at me. He called me a city girl, said that it doesn’t matter where we’re born, but where we belong. I think he might be right, although I don’t know if I’m really a city girl, or if that’s just what I’m used to.
Hard to tell sometimes, and there’s probably not too much of a difference.
I grab a spot at the bar and order a light beer. The bartender says they do sandwiches, so I order turkey and cheese, which she brings me along with my drink. I sip the beer and eat the sandwich slowly, trying not to stand out like a sore thumb, but of course I do.
Everyone in here’s a local. I doubt many tourists come through. Maybe some, that are looking to hike the trails and climb the peaks around here, but it’s not exactly a big destination. I could barely find the place actually, and I’m just thankful I’m here.
I finish my underwhelming meal and ask myself what the fuck I’m going to do when an older woman sits down next to me. I glance at her and she’s looking at me, a smile on her tanned, weathered face. She has graying brown hair pulled back into a ponytail along her back. She’s wearing a heavy flannel shirt and faded jeans, and looks like she spends a lot of time outside.
“You look lost,” she says to me in a deep, gravelly voice.
“Hi,” I say, surprised. People don’t normally just come up to me.
“I’m Shelly,” she says.
“Mia,” I say. “I’m not really lost. I don’t think.”
“What brings you to our small town?” she smiles at me and nods at the bartender as he puts a beer in front of her.
“I’m looking for someone, for a friend,” I say. “He lives out on Remmel Mountain.”
Her face clouds over for a moment, but she quickly perks up. “Got a name?”
“Huh?” I ask, taken off guard. People usually dismiss me by this point.
“Your friend. He got a name?”
“Oh, yeah. It’s Ethan Reid.”
“Ethan,” she muses. “Never heard of him, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” I sigh. “I don’t know how I’ll find him.”
“Lots of folks come through here. Good luck, though.” She smiles, grabs her beer, and heads away.
I go back to drinking, and I don’t think much about that interaction. I’m tired and not in the mood to try to parse every single thing that every crazy local says to me. At least she didn’t dismiss me right away, which gives me hope. He might really live out there near Remmel.
It occurs to me that Ethan sent me on this wild goose chase, although I don’t know how he could have guessed that I’d come out hunting for him a month after meeting him that one time. He told me he lives out here even before we slept together, so that couldn’t be a part of his thinking. Still, I can’t help but feel like I’m chasing a ghost.
I finish my beer and decide to head back to my room. I’ll get some sleep then start asking around in the morning. I have enough time and money to stay here at least a week, so something will turn up in that time, I just have to keep going.
I get up and slowly head outside, but I don’t make it back to my car before I hear my name. I turn around to spot Shelly walking toward me, a smile on her face.
“You wanna see Ethan?” she asks.
I stare at her, taken aback. “You know him?”
“I know him,” she says. “Don’t know how you got so lucky t
o talk to the one fucking person around here that does, but you did. You wanna see him?”
“Yes,” I say quickly. “I really do.”
“Okay. Come on.” She heads over to an old dirty truck parked at the edge of the lot. She stops at the driver’s side door and looks at me. “You gonna come with me or what?”
“Uh,” I say, but something propels me forward. I’m so close to him, I can suddenly feel it. I don’t know why I trust this old woman, but I do. I climb into her truck, and we head off.
Shelly asks where I’m from, but she doesn’t press me for too many details, which I find a little odd. Maybe not that strange, given how private Ethan is, and maybe she’s trying to respect his privacy.
“I have to admit,” she says to me. “I’m a little impressed.”
“By what?” I ask.
“You found him.” She cocks her head at me. “Ethan doesn’t normally want to be found.”
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit, and then I hesitate. “How long have you known him?”
She gives me a little smile, making it clear that she won’t answer many questions about him. “Long enough,” she says.
I nod a little. “I guess you know him well enough to take me to his place.”
Her smile gets a little bigger. “That’s right,” she says.
“Not many people around here.”
“No,” she says.
“So I’m guessing you live nearby?”
She just grins at me in response.
I sigh and look out the window. I suspect I won’t get anything else out of her, at least about Ethan, but Shelly herself fascinates me as well.
So I ask her about her life. Turns out, Shelly’s from New York. She moved out here years ago with her husband, who died about seven years ago from cancer.
“He was a logger,” she says. “Well, not much of one, but it’s what he loved. Working outside. I met him when we were both young, before he got deep into the industry.”
