Beautiful Revenge

by John Forrester

  “I should have never let you go that night.” Keary’s voice is a strangled whisper, remorse and bitterness thick in his words. I run a finger up to his lips to quiet him and relish in the velvety softness. He touches my hand and gently kisses my fingertips. Prickling sparks of electricity twitch through my arm. I want to run away with him to someplace warm and dark, with the sound of the ocean at my back, the wind on my naked skin, and Keary’s nose tracing my body, memorizing the scents of his obsession. At night, when he’s lying in bed alone and unable to sleep, my smell invading his mind, I want him to run his hands along his nose and burn with insanity for the loss of not having me there under his sheets.

  I will the witch of wickedness to entrap my beloved in this simple snare. Taste me, my mouth says opening gently, devour me in the folds of your arms, and stop only when there’s nothing left of me to consume. Keary obeys and pulls me in, his lips skimming mine, fire raging at the contact; then he pulls away and my lips are cold, wanting, and seeking his warmth. But his lips run over to the sensitive place beneath my ear and I shiver, knees buckled, and he reaches down beneath my hips and draws me back up into him. My thighs tingle from his fingers digging into my flesh.

  “Kiss me,” I blurt out, almost a whispered sigh. My lips return to his, softly, a wet stickiness between us as we make slow contact, then my lips feel dry so I lick them and find my tongue lashing between his lips and mine. He releases one hand from my hip, grips the back of my neck, and pulls my tongue into his open mouth. I’m swimming in the moist, delicious sea of his mouth, like bobbing for caramel apples and tasting the sweet, tangy flavor mixing wonderfully on my taste buds. Our tongues battle and probe each other deeply: intensity and release, a sigh, a moan, his hand running along the front of my body, fingers discovering my nipples for the first time.

  I want him so bad.

  “Have you ever?” I whisper in his ear, hoping that he’s like me.

  He shakes his head and murmurs, “No,” and kisses me again. The hairs rise suddenly along the back of my neck and I’m instantly cold, sensing someone spying on us. I turn and in the moonlight see Phillip’s blank eyes considering our dance of love. Keary releases me, catching sight of Phillip. He cocks his head (I think in disappointment), and his body loses the tension that once bound him to me. Phillip strolls over to where we are, a well-wrapped picnic basket in one hand, and some wood in the other. Keary offers to carry the picnic basket.

  “Hungry?” Phillip raises an eyebrow mischievously, and motions us towards the beach. I follow obediently, dazed, my mouth buzzing from Keary’s kiss. My hand lifts unconsciously to tame the sensation, and I find my lips molesting the soft place between my thumb and index finger. The place on my hand feels like lips: soft, but not as soft as Keary’s lips. I glance over at Keary and his playful eyes catch mine, moonlight dancing off his pupils.

  “How’s the summer with the parents?” Phillip’s voice is so sarcastic that it’s clear he already knows the answer.

  “Incredibly boring. How was New York?” Keary and I sit next to where Phillip is assembling the wood, kindling, and newspaper for a fire.

  “New York was brilliant.” Fire sparks up as Phillip ignites the paper along the edges of the stack, and we watch as the flames catch kindling, smoke bubbling up into the sky. Phillip tends the fire, blowing expertly until the flames roar higher, catch the logs, eating at the bark and frayed edges. I feel the heat on my hands, cheeks, and forehead, as if I was being roasted.

  “Though I guess our crowd is all here now?” Phillip glances at Keary.

  “Mostly. I see them occasionally in town or at the club. They’re scattered, doing their own thing.” Keary gives me a long look, and then stares back at the fire. I want to reach out to him and hold him like before; the heat is too much and I want him to shield me from the fire.

  “We’ll have fun this summer. I have ideas to stir things up a bit.” Phillip’s eyes gleam mysteriously.

  I send my brother a look that says, “What the fuck are you planning now?” He grins maliciously in response.

  “Nothing too radical.” Phillip’s voice is low and raspy, conspiratorial. “Not like I’m planning a revolution or anything, but this sleepy island definitely needs a little shaking up, I think. Don’t you think so, Keary?”

  Keary shrugs, scratches his shoulder and tosses a stick into the fire. “Actually, I’m looking to hang low this summer…too much flak from my father all year. He’s been riding me hard on grades and friends and his expectations for me. The list is endless.”

  “Yeah, senior year heats up for sure. But it’s summer, freak. What do you have to worry about?”

  “SAT prep, essay writing tutor, math tutor—” Keary laughs bitterly. “My father makes me study twenty-four seven.”

  “Shit. You got it bad.” Phillip withdraws a joint from his shirt pocket and lights up using the fire. He inhales slowly, face angelic and tense, holds and squeezes his eyes together, and then coughs, laughing and sputtering, his eyes flared. “Fuck, this is some good weed! Damn, Zachary got it right this time.”

  I tense at the sound of Zachary’s name and see Keary narrowing his eyes, prodding the sand with a piece of kindling wood. Phillip offers Keary the joint.

  “Not me.” Keary’s voice is terse and Phillip tenses in response, as if struck.

  “Not you?” Phillip takes another drag of the smoke, squints, and hands it to me. I don’t hesitate, my lungs craving the drug like an addict. Keary studies me as I inhale; he frowns slightly but watches to see how I handle it. With the smoke working its way in my brain, I relax and exhale, expertly shooting out a smoke ring.

  “I taught her well,” says Phillip arrogantly. “She can blow up shit like a pro.”

  I study Keary’s eyes for signs of disapproval, but find only curiosity.

  “What’s it like?” Keary eyes the joint lodged between my delicate fingers—fingers he kissed so tenderly only minutes ago.

  Not wanting this moment to be done by anyone else, I sidle my way next to him, flip my hand around and ease the joint into Keary’s accepting mouth. “Suck slowly. That’s good. Keep it slow and tender, not too eager. Now hold for a while, let your mind go loose and glide. That’s right—”

  Keary coughs and coughs, wheezing in a long, raspy fit, and Phillip and me just laugh and laugh. Phillip’s eyes crinkle up, and he slaps his leg like it’s the best thing he’s seen all summer.

  “Yeah, man, that’s it—your first. Cherish it; you’re no longer a virgin. You okay?” Phillip leans in and stares into Keary’s bloodshot, bleary eyes, trying to look concerned but instead just chuckling knowingly. He rubs his back, glances around, and grabs the wine bottle and unscrews it quickly, handing the drink to Keary.

  “From the bottle?” Keary’s voice is choked and dry, and he clears his voice, coughing again.

  “Drink it already; you can barely talk.” Phillip smiles approvingly and leans back, digging his hands into the sand. Keary takes a long swill, pinches his eyes together, and finally hands me the bottle and wipes the wine from his lips. I wish he wouldn’t; I want to lick the nectar lingering on his lips and suck the wine from his mouth. But I drink from the bottle instead.

  “Why aren’t you fools kissing already?” Phillip smiles at me, then nods thievishly at Keary. “I know, I know, three is a crowd. What was I thinking?” He glances back at the clubhouse. “I need a girl.”

  I hope Phillip leaves us alone; the wine and the weed are mixing superbly in my blood, and my stomach is fluttering with excitement, feeling the heat from Keary’s hand on mine and the warm sand underneath my hips.

  When Keary sees Phillip stand, he waves him back. “Nah, man, don’t leave. It’s cool…we’re just chilling out anyway.” Why did he have to say that? I try to hide my disappointment but Keary catches it and shrugs apologetically. Feeling suddenly hungry I rummage through the picnic basket and take a bite of an apple, relishing the sweet taste.

  Voices mix off in the distance, comi
ng closer, lumbering shapes drawing near, long shadows from the moonlight chasing after them.

  “Is that you, Phillip?” My heart grows cold at the sound of Zachary’s lilting voice, and I glance at Keary, catching the look of irritation in his eyes as Zachary and three beautiful girls approach.

  CHAPTER 6

  “’SUP, ZACH?” PHILLIP takes another hit from the joint and hands it to Zachary, then turns his eyes to the girls. “Sabine, Miette. Oh, hi, Therese? Wow, it’s you. Are you here for the summer?”

  Therese nods and gives him a cool smile.

  “It’s really great to see you. Want something to drink?” He hands Therese the wine bottle and she sips it greedily, her short, cropped hair slashing along her bared shoulders. I remember her from Phillip’s birthday party several years ago—weren’t they dating for a while? And Phillip cried, heartbroken, when she moved to Paris with her parents. They Skyped, but then she met someone new there and they broke up.

  She looks even more beautiful and refined than ever. I can’t help but be jealous of her full, round breasts—bulging braless through her white chemise top—and her big, exotic eyes gazing longingly at Phillip. She takes a drag on Phillip’s dwindling joint and draws in close to him, whispering something that sends my brother’s mouth into a broad grin.

  I instantly hate her. I hate the way Phillip looks weak and awkward around her, instead of his normal strong and confident self. He’s like a fawning puppy, ready to lick morsels from her fingers. She pushes a long lock of Phillip’s black hair away from his eyes and slowly brushes the side of his face. Phillip shivers in response, his eyes morbid and serious, locked in Therese’s gaze. Keary interrupts my jealousy with the touch of his hand on my shoulder.

  “Who’s she?” he whispers in my ear, sending prickles of ice along my neck. I don’t want to answer the question, but his soft, sultry voice is so irresistible, and I crave having my lips close to his neck and ears.

  “Therese is Phillip’s old girlfriend. She moved to Paris.” The words come out ragged and bitter from my mouth, and I hope Keary doesn’t read into my tone.

  A long, uncomfortable moment passes as I study Keary’s eyes staring at Therese and Phillip, as he reads the vivid signs of lust and love lost. Or is he stunned by her erotic figure and beautiful, lascivious eyes? My fingers travel the air to find reassurance in Keary’s caress but come up empty as he crawls his way towards her, as if a magnetic shard returning to the source of its magnetism.

  I glance at Phillip and notice him gesturing us over, and Therese, her full lips parted revealing a half smile, gazes like Medusa upon Keary’s entranced face. She gives him an elegant, French-girl wave, and—like a snake striking prey—thrusts out to kiss him on both cheeks. I want to duct-tape her lips together—those pouty, fuck-me lips lingering on Keary’s soft skin.

  “Therese has a miraculous idea.” Phillip’s mouth is moving but his eyes are still idol-worshiping the sex goddess. The wind picks up, lifting his hair, long locks lashing Therese’s irritated eyes. I say a prayer, thanking the wind for its violence. “Remember the old barn…the Dakotas’ place? They’re in Europe now; we could totally just go and hang out there. It’s getting windy here anyway.”

  Zachary’s eyes light up, cradling Sabine and Miette in his arms. Sabine is slender and delicate, with arms and back like a ballerina, her wind-whipped blonde hair skittering along Zachary’s shoulders. Miette is Sabine’s polar opposite: puffed with baby fat, she looks like an adorable penguin perfect for keeping you warm on a cold winter’s night.

  Zachary’s voice sounds surprisingly free of drugs. “Yeah, let’s have an adventure—disappear and see how long it takes for a search party to find us.” Miette snuffles at that, making a sound like a pig grunting on a mushroom hunt. But her face is so round and adorable, like Miss Piggy from the Muppets, that I want to pinch her chubby cheeks until they’re red.

  The fire sputters and flares from the rising gale, sending a shower of sparks over Sabine, Miette, and Zachary. Screams and shrieks and laughter emit from their pampered lips, and Zachary dashingly helps the girls to their feet and they all hobble drunkenly towards house lights that twinkle through sea grass like stars low in the sky. Phillip and Keary collect the picnic basket and wine bottles lodged in the sand like rockets ready to fire, and follow Zachary’s lead.

  Soon we’re all stumbling through the thick sand, our intoxicated feet tripping on clumps of grass, and we follow the light like newly slain souls searching for salvation. Therese’s cherry-bomb ass swings in front of me, and I discover that the narrow space between her thighs has ignited Keary’s eyes in a fury of lust. I can’t decide whom I should kill first. And when I kiss him later tonight, like I’m sure I will, will the image of Therese’s ass and breasts play inside his closed eyes? When his beautiful hands caress my body, will they be disappointed by what they find?

  Out across manicured lawns, we run, laughing, from predatory sprinklers, ducking behind bushes after automated lights blink on like beacons shining into a dark sea. We traverse a fallow field, its dancing grass shimmering under the moonlight. Up ahead, Sabine and Miette scream as a deer darts past, and they clutch tightly to Zachary as I imagine him delighting in the idea of groping them in their moment of need. One warm and cuddly, and the other a bone in need of his fire.

  All along our trek, Keary has remained quiet, reflective, eyes gazing ahead as we flank the others from behind. He holds my hand, warming me, protecting my steps, and guiding my way. Does he do this out of obligation? Or would he rather run Phillip through with a saber and take his place hand-in-hand with Therese? I imagine her sprawled naked on the field. Her dark nipples are shadows formed atop the luminous mounds of her breasts, and Keary’s hands indulge in their fullness, his fingers delicately traversing the valley down her chest, past the milky contours of her navel, until lingering fitfully between her thighs and opening the folds of her labia.

  I glance at his lips, wet with the soft light of the moon, and imagine them kissing her deeply until she moans in delight. For a strange moment I see myself mounted there: her thighs spread apart, tufts of small spiraling hairs rising above, the long lean shafts of her legs arched out in ecstasy, with her generous ass cheeks smothering the grass and the rancid fragrance of her arousal wafting into my nostrils. I want to escape from this vision but her legs squeeze together in orgasmic fury, choking my neck, causing me to cough, and pull me into her dark abode until there’s only emptiness.

  Keary sighs in pain at my unconscious vice grip on his hand, and I release at once, flashing him a fearful look.

  “What the f—” He stops himself and stares into my eyes. “Are you okay?”

  I stroke his hand in apology. “Sorry, lost in thought.”

  He turns away, face unconvinced, and we follow Phillip and Keary into an old, sea-spray-worn barn that smells of leather and last year’s hay and horsehide. Zachary finds blankets stacked neatly atop saddles mounted on a wooden wall. Phillip hands one first to me, then to Therese, and I can’t help but feel a small victory in his deference. The girls climb a small ladder, affording Phillip and Zachary an iPhone-illuminated view of their legs and hips rising into the darkness.

  I tell Keary I’ll go next—that I can manage fine without his help—and I do, precariously, the blanket slung over my shoulder like a climber with ropes. We nestle in a pile of blankets and watch Phillip and Zachary push barn doors that creak as they open, revealing the moon pondering over the faintly lit field and farmhouse. Lithe Sabine slips and falls on soft Miette, and they giggle adorably and both pull Zachary down to cuddle with them.

  Phillip reaches inside his pocket to retrieve a bag, handing something small first to Therese, then to Zachary, Sabine, and Miette, who pop that something into their mouths and start chewing. My brother crawls over the sea of blankets to where Keary and I sit.

  “Want some shrooms? You’ll feel beautiful. Don’t worry, it’s safe. I’ll be everyone’s guide.” Phillip flashes me his most charming
, protective smile and I can’t help but trust him.

  “Okay,” my voice croaks out, unsure why I agreed at all. I accept a soft, spongy mushroom, and Keary hesitantly takes one too, glancing quickly at Therese. Inside my mouth the mushroom tastes bland and lonely, so I give it red wine as a companion and imagine I’m eating pasta. I crave fresh buffalo mozzarella and basil to go with it. Keary follows suit, placing his lips on the mouth of the wine bottle. He takes a quick taste, and continues chewing thoughtfully as if wondering what will happen next.

  Therese drinks from a silver flask produced by Zachary, grimaces at the taste, and then gulps another swig and attaches her lips to Phillip’s, allowing the liquid to roll around in their mouths. We drink and drink as the drug slowly works its way into our system, and I watch Zachary and Phillip whispering and flirting with the girls. I feel suddenly like a spectator in a celebration to Dionysus, with Sabine and Miette as maenads worshiping the madness and ecstasy of the ménage à trois, and Zachary reveling in the profuse shower of kisses and tongues snaking over his Olympian neck. In the rising chaos, clothes loosen, feminine hands remove Zachary and Phillip’s shirts, and figures embrace in love and the beauty of the infinite feeling of night.

  I feel Keary’s hands tracing along my back, velveting down around my waist until his soft fingers find the skin beneath my dress, arousing the baby hairs along my thighs into a state of erection. The space beneath my panties moistens and I squeeze my knees together, shuddering at the stimulation. When I glance up into Keary’s eyes, golden light blossoms around his head like an angel’s halo. The air in the barn is filled with millions of shimmering crystals dancing lazily, millions of tiny faces moaning in delight.