by Harley Fox
But even though both Rebekka and I try to fall on our swords and take at least one heart, Edward knows what he’s doing. Probably knew what he was going to do right from the beginning.
“The queen still isn’t out yet,” I announce when we’re down to two cards left.
“I know,” Edward says with the hint of a grin. He throws down the nine of hearts, pulling my last one from me. Rebekka’s run out, tossing out a diamond. Edward takes the trick, throws down his last card, the eight of hearts. I toss down my club, expecting to see Rebekka drop the queen of spades … but she throws down another diamond.
“What?” Edward says, staring at the cards. “No.”
He reaches for the facedown card, flips it over, and there it is: the queen of spades.
“She got you,” Rebekka grins, shaking her head. “Hiding in plain sight.”
I glance up and see Edward’s features turn sour and, behind him, Persephone half-turned, a curious smile on her face.
Edward gets up, claiming not to be in the mood for cards anymore, and goes back to cleaning his gun. Rebekka says that’s a good idea, so I gather up the cards and put them back in their box. Then I go to get my weapon, the three of us sitting close to one another in the common area, cleaning our guns.
“Hey, guys?” Julian asks. “Would you mind doing these tools, too? Some of these chisels need to be sharpened.”
I get up and take the things from Julian, flashing a smile at Persephone as I do. We don’t have a bench grinder here, so I have to sharpen the chisels by hand. It’s soothing work, though. Edward gets up to put lunch together and when it’s ready we all get up to scoop plates of rehydrated chicken vindaloo. We sit down to eat, and Julian starts talking in between bites, telling us all about the work he’s doing.
“It’s great,” he says, excited. “Persephone says their tools, some of them, were close to things that we have here, so we can actually emulate them really well. Like before, I was using just an X-ACTO knife to make precision cuts, but doing that sort of shows that it was made with a modern tool, right? But you can use a putty knife and it’ll more closely emulate the type of knife they used to cut their clay. It’s really fascinating.”
As he goes on I notice that he takes all of us in, not just Rebekka, like he normally would. In fact, she looks away during parts of his diatribe and he seems not to care. I think Persephone notices it too, because she glances from one to the other with a look of satisfaction on her face.
Lunch ends and Edward takes our plates. I stand up and stretch.
“Persephone,” I say, and she looks up at me. “I’m gonna go for a walk. Wanna come?”
“Sure,” she says, getting up. We snake through the corridors together and grab two umbrellas before stepping out into the blazing heat of the desert.
“It sounds like work is going well,” I tell her as we start walking, and she nods beside me.
“Julian’s a quick study. And excited, too. I think he’s been looking for a challenge. Something to keep his brain busy.”
“Rebekka says he’s backed off a bit,” I inform her. “Been giving her some breathing room.”
She smiles. “Well … I may have given him a bit of unsolicited advice yesterday,” Persephone admits.
“Couldn’t help but meddle, huh?”
“What can I say?” she gives a shrug. “When there’s something wrong, I gotta find a solution.”
It’s not long before we find ourselves on the shaded side of the warehouse, our umbrellas lying useless on the sand, our lips locked together as we fumble against each other’s bodies. Persephone feels so good. She tastes and smells incredible. Between our shirts I can feel her breasts pushing into my chest. My cock is already hard in my pants, straining to get out.
We spin around and I land with my back to the wall. Persephone smiles against my lips, grinning as she pushes herself into me, grinding against the stiffness in my pants. She drops her mouth down and kisses my neck, reaching down and rubbing me outside of my jeans. But I grab a hold of her and spin us around, causing her to yelp with surprise as it’s now her back that lands against the wall.
My hands find her wrists and I bring them up, both of them, above her head. Transferring both of them to my one hand leaves me free to slide down underneath the hem of her T-shirt. My fingers trace up to her breast and it makes her moan with her tongue plunged deep inside of my mouth.
She struggles against me, but her strength is no match for mine. My hand slides down again and I undo the top of her jeans with my fingers, pull down the zipper, and slip in. She gasps, then moans. She’s wet, her pussy hot to the touch. I feel her bucking against me and my fingers move down over her clit, dipping into her wetness, coming back up and circling around, forcing her to break the kiss as she gasps for breath.
I use the opportunity to latch my lips to her neck, hearing her, feeling her build as my fingers rub hard and fast against her clit.
“Fuck, fuck!” she cries out, her body starting to shiver, and then she cries out as she comes. I lift up and clamp my lips down onto hers, quieting her. Still she comes, trembling, shaking against me, her pussy clenching and squeezing with every pulse of orgasm.
When she finishes I pull my hand out of her pants and bring my fingers to my mouth, licking the juices off of them. Persephone kisses me, tasting herself, and then pulls her hands out of my grasp. Immediately she reaches down to undo my pants, yanking them open, reaching in and pulling out my cock. I’m about ready to burst, and when she drops to her knees and takes me into her mouth, it almost knocks me off my feet.
“Oh, fuck,” I moan.
My fingers find her hair, but she’s taken control now. She works fast, hitting every spot that needs to be hit, and when I reach that climax and tell her I’m about to come, she doesn’t stop. My orgasm rocks through me and I explode in Persephone’s mouth, where she takes every last drop. She keeps going till I’m spent, even taking the time to suck off the last of it, making sure she’s gotten as much as she can. And then she stands up, reaching up to my gasping mouth and kissing me, making me taste myself, her tongue swirling around with my own. My hands find her back and I hold her, hold onto this kiss.
We break off and I do up my pants as Persephone grabs both of our umbrellas. Then we walk back to the warehouse door together. As we do, our hands dangle by our sides, and though our fingers never interlace, I can feel hers there, so close, almost touching.
We go inside and snake through the corridors to find Julian already started work without her. We must have lost track of time. Nobody says anything, though. Rebekka is reading a book, and Edward’s not around. I go off to my corner, feeling shaky, excited. Like nothing I’ve felt before. I need to do something to get rid of this excess energy. So I decide to work out, doing half a dozen sets each of sit-ups, push-ups, and chin-ups. When I’m finished I go to take a shower to wash off.
Once in a fresh change of clothes, I go back to the common area to read. The afternoon passes by with a sense of quiet comfort, the only sound being that of Persephone and Julian discussing, teaching, learning. Edward comes back, his eyes half-closed and a bit puffy. He must’ve taken a nap. He doesn’t say anything, but picks up a book too, sitting down to read.
The time passes. Eventually it’s dinner time, and Julian’s turn to cook. Persephone cleans up their workstation on her own. When dinner is served we all get plates and take them back, eating together, chatting casually. The conversation isn’t about anything in particular, and everybody’s involved, even Persephone. I can’t remember the last time we ate like this. Edward cracks a joke and Persephone laughs through a mouthful of food, having to be careful not to spit it out.
Dinner finishes and Julian takes the plates, leaving to clean up. Edward leaves to do his own thing, and so does Rebekka. Only Persephone and I are left in the common area. We look at each other from our chairs. Persephone gives me a lazy smile.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey yourself,” she replies, her eyes
half-closed.
“Do you like chocolate?”
Now her eyes open all the way.
“Do I like chocolate? Does the Pope crap in the woods?”
I laugh, caught off guard.
“I can’t tell you,” I reply. “But I have some chocolate, if you’d like it.”
“Lead the way,” she says, getting up before I do. I take her through the corridors to my corner of the warehouse. I realize it’s the first time she’s been here, and my eyes dart around, making sure it’s not too messy. I pick up my towel from the shower and drape it over the back of my chair, then lift a metal box up from the ground.
“This is chocolate given to soldiers deployed to Afghanistan,” I tell Persephone as I pull a bar out from the metal box. “It’s good to have if you’re out in the desert. Edward got it at one of his survivalist places.”
Putting the metal box back, I sit down on my cot, my back resting up against the wooden crate. Persephone sits beside me and I unwrap the bar of chocolate, breaking off a couple squares and giving them to her. She pops them in her mouth, waits a bit, starts chewing. Then she makes a weird face and I can’t help but laugh.
“Takes a bit to get used to,” I tell her as I pop a square in my mouth, chewing it up as well.
We sit in silence for a bit, eating chocolate, listening to the dull murmurs of other activity and conversation elsewhere in the warehouse.
“What was it like in jail?” Persephone asks me.
I turn to look at her, my internal hackles raised. Her eyes are on mine. They look serious, inquisitive. Not at all judgmental. I relax.
“It was … well. It was pretty bad,” I admit. “In a place like that, you either got to let it be known that you’re not to be fucked with, or else resign your life to being walked on nonstop. Guys in there, they’ve got nothing to lose. That whole pecking order that doesn’t really exist in normal circumstances, it comes out with a vengeance in there.”
“Sounds bad,” she says, and I nod. “How long were you in there?”
“Six years. I was supposed to be in for longer.”
“How long?”
“Life.”
Persephone stops, and she blinks at me.
“Did you … kill someone?” Her voice is hushed. I wait a moment, and then nod.
“My sister’s killer,” I tell her. “She, um … she was a sex worker. Worked on her own. It meant she didn’t have to answer to anyone, didn’t have to do anything she didn’t like, but it also meant she didn’t have anybody watching her back. One of her clients … I guess he got drunk, tried calling her up even though she wasn’t working that night. He broke in … had his way with her … and then he killed her. I was the one they called in to identify the body.”
My heart is already pounding. I’m looking forward, but I can feel Persephone watching me, listening. She doesn’t say anything. I take a few deep breaths and go on.
“I found out who he was and broke into his house. I thought maybe getting revenge for what he did to Annabelle would make me feel better, but it didn’t. The cops found me a couple of days later. I didn’t even try fighting back. I just let them take me in. They charged me with first-degree murder and sentenced me to life in prison.
“The first couple of years I don’t really remember. Every day just kind of blends into the next. After that I started cleaning up my act. I applied for parole but I was denied it. So I thought up a way to get out, and then I got out. That was just over two years ago.”
I finish talking. Persephone remains silent. I break off another piece of chocolate and hand it to her. She takes it, puts it in her mouth, chews slowly, swallows.
“My mom had cancer,” she finally says, and I look at her. “She was diagnosed when I was twelve. My dad, who was hardly around to begin with, I guess decided that was the last straw. So he left. He left me, a twelve-year-old, to take care of my dying mom. And so I did. I had to stop going to school to be with her. For three months. And then she died. For three months it was just her and me. And then, just like that, it was just me.
“I forget if it was the school who called Child Services or maybe a neighbor, but anyway I got moved to a group foster home. I remember the boys calling me the quiet girl, I guess because I was so quiet. The people in charge there are supposed to make sure the boys don’t go in your room at night, but … you know, when you’re the quiet girl, I guess you have to be quiet all the time.
“I remember, these boys … it was weird. Some of them talked to me all sweet when their friends weren’t around. But then, when they were, they treated me like a stranger. Until they were in my bed at night. There was one boy, Desmond. I fell in love with him. When I told him that at dinner, he spit in my face. And then once he sneaked in, he apologized and told me he loved me too. But he never spoke to me in public.”
Persephone stops, swallows. Her eyes are dry. She’s not looking at anything as she talks.
“For a long time, I thought the only way I could get boys to like me was to use my body. When I finally left the home I was eighteen. Nobody wanted to adopt me. I was doing well in school and I went to college. My relationships back then were … bad. But I kept going back. Eventually I talked to a therapist about it, and she helped me open up some stuff about me. But the thing is,” and here she smiles, even though she’s still staring at the opposite wall, “I actually like sex. And that’s … not what victims of rape and sexual assault are supposed to say. They’re supposed to be traumatized, and they’re supposed to hate everything about men and their bodies and being naked. But I love those things.”
Persephone lets out a short laugh, and wipes the tears out of her eyes.
“Try telling support groups that. Try telling your friends that, when they’re crying and you’re crying and you’re sharing personal stories and you say you can actually come during sex. So … I started going out to bars. And I started pretending to be drunk, even though I wasn’t. Not all the time. Because when you’re drunk, and you do something like go home with a guy … or a couple of guys … it’s not supposed to mean as much. But what it means is you get a reputation. If you’re not broken goods, then you must be a slut.” She suddenly laughs, a few short bursts. “No matter what I do, I’m fucked!”
She laughs, gives a wet sniff, and wipes at her eyes again. But when she takes her hand away and blinks, a tear falls into her lap.
“Oh God,” she sniffs, wiping at her eyes again. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry about.”
She turns to me, trying out a watery smile. More tears fall from her eyes, and she blinks them away.
“Listen,” I tell her. “If there’s one thing I learned from jail, it’s that not all the guys there are as bad as their judgments make them out to be. You are not what your past is. Who you are now, and who you become, isn’t dependent on what you’ve done in the past. It’s not dependent on your history. Who you are today is who you choose to be, not what happened to you years ago.”
Persephone sniffs, blinking out more tears.
“You don’t … you don’t think I’m a slut?”
I shake my head. “No. I think you are whoever you want to be. And to me, you’re Persephone.”
She smiles, lets out a laugh, and then suddenly her lips are on mine. She’s kissing me, but it’s not like it was earlier when we were outside. Her kisses are passionate, wanting. She pushes me down onto the bed. I can feel her tears on my cheeks. Something in my throat tightens and my eyes start to burn and Persephone laughs, her lips stretched against mine, and then she kisses me again.
And when our clothes start to come off, it’s not hurried or rushed. When I put the condom on and enter her, this time she holds me, and I hear her gasp next to my ear. She moans and gasps softly, the sounds like whispered secrets meant only for me. I feel her shake. When she comes her grip on my skin tightens. And when I come she pulls me closer, burying her face in my chest. I hear her sob and shake
, but still she holds me tight.
She slides off of me, resting her head on my chest, her arm and leg draped over me. I hear her slow and rhythmic breathing couple with mine, and when my eyelids start to grow heavy and my muscles relax, I feel myself start to smile. For the first time in a long time, I finally feel happy.
Marc
“Get up!”
I’m jolted awake to a sharp shaking of my cot, my eyes flying open immediately. The first thing I realize is that Edward is standing at the foot of it, staring down at me, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. The second thing is that Persephone is still in bed with me, draped across me, also having been rudely awakened. The third is that we’re both completely naked.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Edward sneers at me as Persephone grabs at the blankets and pulls them over her body, trying to cover herself up. “You were supposed to cuff her last night. Not fuck her.”
“Edward—” I start, but he interrupts by addressing Persephone.
“Julian’s already had breakfast and started work. Get yourself dressed and get there, now.”
“I—” she stammers, her face bright red. “I need you to turn around.”
Edward rolls his eyes, but he turns his head to look the other way. Persephone watches him a moment longer, and then throws the blanket off of her and climbs over me and out of the bed. I move to accommodate her and feel sticky sweat covering my body. I try to catch her eye but she hurriedly gets dressed, yanking on Rebekka’s clothes from yesterday. Edward seems to know when she’s done because he moves to the side where she passes by him without saying anything to him or to me. Her face is still bright red as she leaves.
I smack my lips, feeling thirsty, and realize that my mouth tastes horrible. It’s warm in here. Too warm.
“Why is it so hot?”
“The air conditioner,” Edward says. “Must be struggling in this heat. I’ll check it out later. But I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I say. The blanket Persephone grabbed is covering my lower half, but I don’t feel nearly as vulnerable naked as Persephone did.
