unStrapped

by Nina G. Jones

  I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing him close to me. “Taylor, I can’t hold on…it’s too much.” Everything inside of me wants to erupt and my body trembles trying to contain itself.

  “You first. Always,” he says, with the slightest hint of playfulness underneath the huskiness of his sex-voice. Taylor presses my hips even closer to him, getting in even deeper than I thought he could reach and we both groan, my nails dig deep into his back and he expands inside of me, causing me to erupt in cascading waves of intense pleasure.

  For a minute we just rest there quietly in each other’s arms. This is not over. This doesn’t fix everything. This is just the beginning of finding our way out of the dark. He breaks the silence. “Let’s talk on the plane, okay? I want the trip to be just about us and about you getting better. So let’s get it all out before then. I’m willing to talk about whatever Eric said. But I have to warn you, this won’t be easy for me, and it won’t be easy for you. It might get heated, it will get passionate. I need to know you won’t mistake that for something else.”

  “I’m ready to do this. You know I am always down for a good fight,” I say, motioning the area around us: tire tracks and turned up earth from Taylor’s angry driving rampage, our filthy clothes strewn about the car and ground, our mud-streaked bodies.

  “Yeah, we fight like champions, but we fuck like ‘em too,” Taylor playfully jabs my chin. Only we would make light of the insanity around us.

  “Oh god, what if some farmer comes out with a gun and finds us like this?”

  “Don’t worry, my family owns this land. I wouldn’t have fucked up someone else’s property.”

  “You’re right. I will never get used to this. By the way, where are we going?”

  “I’ll let you figure that out on your own,” he winks.

  While there is so much to deal with, now I know I have the tools to do so.

  Taylor will open up to me, he will talk. I just need to know everything.

  It’s the doubt that kills.

  Chapter 6

  The looks from the airplane staff are priceless as we board the plane in our muddy clothes. Taylor had called Harrison to take us to the airport after all, leaving the BMW in the field for Harrison to retrieve later for a detailed cleaning and possible repairs. By the time we arrive to the plane, we are two and a half hours behind schedule and so Taylor insists that we shower onboard instead of wasting any more time.

  The pilot, who has worked for Taylor for many years, does not extend a hand to Taylor (as most staff under Taylor are instructed not to) but greets him with a nod and gives him a quick once over.

  “Good Morning Doug. How are you today?”

  “I am well, Mr. Holden, and you?” he asks, trying to pretend our appearances are nothing out of the ordinary. However, his inability to rest his eyes comfortably on us betrays his act.

  “Quite well¸ haven’t really done much yet today.” Taylor’s voice is deadpan, only adding to Doug’s uncertainty, but I know the subtle shifts in Taylor’s tone, and I can tell he’s doing this to humor me. “You’ve met Shyla right? When she used to work for H.I.?” Taylor turns to me, standing on the step just beneath him.

  “Yes, sir. Nice to see you again, Shyla.”

  “Likewise.” I say to Doug.

  “Oh and Doug, don’t mention anything about the destination, Shyla doesn’t know where we’re going and I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Certainly, sir.” Doug steps aside as we walk into the seating area.

  “You just love to fuck with people, don’t you?” I ask when we are out of earshot.

  Taylor raises his brows mischievously and shrugs. “Would you rather me tell him the circumstances that lead to our oh-so tidy appearances?”

  “These people must think I am a terrible influence on you.”

  “Who said you weren’t?”

  I playfully roll my eyes at him as we get into our seats. There is a part of me that is so pleased with the mood in the air, that I don’t want to ruin it with our talk, but I know I have to. This mood won’t last for long if we let the unsaid fester in the background.

  As soon as we hit cruising altitude, Taylor unbuckles his seatbelt and winks. “Let’s shower.”

  This plane is larger and more luxurious than some of the ones we have used to travel on for H.I. business. “Did the other plane have a shower? I didn’t remember seeing one.”

  “It depends, but I requested this plane because it’s got everything we’ll need to spread out and be comfortable. No business will be happening on this plane. Well, not the H.I. kind.” Just as he says this, his phone goes off. He looks at the number stoically. “Shy, excuse me, I need to take this call.” He’s taken countless calls in front of me, and unless we were somewhere noisy, never has he pulled away for a conversation. After all, I used to work with him, there’s little about H.I. I don’t know.

  “Sure, I’ll go check out the bathroom,” I say as he nods, walking to the other end of the plane, whispering into the phone. I try not to think it’s suspicious, but the secrecy does not sit well with me.

  I walk through a fully furnished bedroom on my way to the bathroom and am surprised to discover a luxurious spa-like retreat behind the bathroom door. I didn’t even know such things existed. In fact, the thought of an airplane bathroom always made me think of overflowing toilet paper from a tiny wall trash bin, the smell of urine mixed with that blue crap in the toilets, and a general feeling of uncleanliness. The H.I. chartered jets, those were high-end, but this…this thing is the envy of most homes. It has gleaming seafoam glass tile in the bathroom! The concept of a tiled bathroom in a plane had never even occurred to me before.

  I catch a glimpse of myself in the illuminated mirror. The soft yellow light is kind, but I notice that my cheeks are hollow, and silently vow to myself to eat more regularly. It surprises me that Taylor even finds me attractive any more, given how frail I have become. Besides that, it’s my first glimpse into a large mirror after my “episode” with Taylor and I finally see how filthy I look, as if we rode up to the plane after a romp through the woods on an ATV. I smile to myself about poor Doug playing along with Taylor’s act. Just as I pull off my shirt, my cell phone rings. I sigh to myself, expecting a call from my mother, or Kristin again, neither of whom I have the energy to speak to right now.

  I pull it out of my back pocket and am surprised to see “RICK” on the screen. Months ago we were living together on what seemed like a certain and steady path and now it feels like I am getting a call from a ghost.

  “Sorry about that,” Taylor says, entering the bathroom. I press “ignore” on my phone and place it on the bathroom counter. This is not a secret, I had no intention of answering that phone call. I can’t fit a reunion with Rick into my life right now. Someday I will, but right now there is enough to deal with.

  “It’s fine. I was just admiring this bathroom. I can’t believe this thing. It’s amazing!”

  “Glad you like it. Now let’s use it.”

  “What was the call about? Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just the usual shit I have to deal with. Henry was getting in touch with me about the Russian deal. Some logistical issues. It’ll work itself out.”

  “Oh,” I say, wondering why he felt the need to pull away if the conversation was so boring and mundane.

  We undress and step into the steam shower. The amount of mud that swirls down the drain makes me wonder if a plane’s plumbing system can handle our mess.

  “Can I shampoo your hair?” I ask Taylor.

  “Really? Why?”

  “You’ve taken care of me, and now I’d like to return the favor. It would make me feel less guilty.”

  “You don’t have to feel guilty, but sure.”

  I squeeze a dollop of shampoo on my hand. “Mr. Tall, you’ll need to lower yourself somehow.”

  He smiles and sits on the built-in shower seat. I spot a few scratch marks on his back and smile to myself; some th
ings are back to normal. I lather up Taylor’s silky, dark hair and massage his scalp. He closes his eyes and dips his head back, letting out a sigh as his tense muscles soften all at once.

  “Alright ask me.”

  “Ask you?”

  “Let’s start talking.”

  His initiation of the topic throws me off for a second. I thought I would be the one to do it and that it would be like pulling teeth. The feeling brings me back to that rooftop dinner after I found out about the BDSM. I had so many questions, but his openness seemed to make me forget them all at first. And that interrogation, I realized sadly, seemed so innocent compared to this one. After a few seconds of silence, I let the words pour out. I utter the name that makes my stomach tighten every time it sits on my lips, waiting to be spoken.

  “Eric and I spent almost an entire day together and he said a lot of things.” I realize that Taylor and I haven’t really spoken in detail about Eric’s last hours with me. Taylor had just asked for my assurance that he didn’t touch me again, which I gave him. I had also given Taylor a brief timeline so that whoever worked with Taylor to cover up that awful time could make sure there were no open ends.

  “You discussed me over a cheeseburger and fries right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Receipts in his pockets. We needed to trace his steps to make sure everything looked normal.” Taylor recites this to me as if informing me that he went to the grocery store. That familiar wave of sadness hits me, but it’s not as strong as it has been and I let out a sigh of relief. I can handle this.

  “Yes, we stayed in that shitty motel. That’s all we did. We sat there for hours and just talked. What he told me and what you have told me…I don’t know, things just don’t make sense.”

  “What you’re saying is one of us has to be lying and you’re not sure you believe it was him.” He’s getting testy, but it’s far less so than he has been before.

  “Taylor, I’d appreciate you not putting words in my mouth.” He stops for a moment and then nods as if he is impressed by my forthrightness. I continue to knead his scalp, as just touching him keeps me somewhat relaxed through this tense conversation. “I just need to know what is true and what isn’t. All I ask for is complete honesty. I am leaving the country with you right now. That should tell you about my level of trust around you. I feel safe with you, I love you, and I just want to know the truth.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I scramble for a way to ask Taylor about the details of his sex life as a teenager. “So, he mentioned that you did some things to taunt him.”

  “What brother doesn’t?”

  “Not the normal things you hear about brothers doing to each other. It was more…”

  “More…” Taylor asks, as I dangle the end of my sentence.

  “Sexual.”

  Taylor laughs to himself smugly, as if to say: it always comes back to sex. “You’ll need to be more specific.”

  “When you were in high school…did you make his girlfriend give you oral sex just to taunt him?”

  Taylor sighs, as if this topic is petty and not worth the time we have already spent on it, but he proceeds.“Before I answer that, some of these aren’t yes or no questions just because you frame them as such. That doesn’t mean I am making excuses, but I am a big fan of detail and accuracy.”

  “Understood,” I say, pausing from the scalp massage to brace for his answer.

  “Yes, but, I didn’t make her do anything. She was more than happy to. I told you my brother and I were competitive.”

  “Competitive? Playing basketball against each other is competitive. Having your brother’s girlfriend give you revenge-head is something else entirely. And I thought you told me you didn’t do anything until college?”

  “I meant as far as experimenting with BDSM. And I did not have regular intercourse until I was in college.”

  “So then what did you do?”

  “Do we really need to be that specific?”

  “Yes, we do.”

  “I got a lot of blow jobs. Is that better?”

  “So girls were just lining up to give you head?”

  “Frankly, yes.”

  I stop kneading his scalp for a second and resist the urge to bop him on his head. Then I laugh a bit to myself. Of course girls wanted to suck off the mysterious, brooding, smart, gorgeous, rich boy.

  “It’s hard to believe you were ever so greedy.”

  “I’ve grown up quite a bit since then. Plus, you taste so good, that in a way, I’m still kind of being greedy.” Could he not be so damned sexy in the middle of this very serious exchange? “Okay, so now that you know I was getting a fuck-ton of fellatio at 16, can we move on?”

  “Fine,” I say, grabbing the shower sprayer. “Close your eyes,” I command, spraying the suds off his his scalp. “Did you plant drugs in his room?”

  “Yes. He was a drug addict, it wasn’t like he was innocent.” I sigh. “Shyla, I’ve told you we fought like cats and dogs, we both did some horrible shit to each other. But he started everything.”

  “It’s funny, he says the same thing about you.”

  Taylor stands up abruptly; as he towers over me his face is stern. His nakedness should convey vulnerability, but instead, his tall, wet, muscled physique is raw and unwavering, as if clothing only serves to hide the beast. The change in his position is a reminder that he loathes his integrity to be questioned when it comes to Eric, even in passing as I just did.

  “Shy, I am being very patient, but I ask that you please watch what you imply.”

  “Taylor, I didn’t mean to insult you, it was simply an observation. You can see why I would feel conflicted.”

  “Actually no, I don’t. If some random woman turned out to be your sister and talked shit about you to me, I wouldn’t believe a fucking word.”

  “Well, what if when you approached me to ask about it, I got defensive and refused to talk? You might start to feel there was something to hide.”

  “Or maybe I would understand that you are sick of your past always trying to find a way to creep into your life and ruin the good things you have finally found.” I stand in silence, still determined, but take a moment to reflect on Taylor’s role reversal. “Excuse me,” he says, exiting the shower.

  “Are you cutting this discussion short?”

  “I’m here. By all means ask away. I’m on trial aren’t I?”

  He’s right, it is a trial of sorts. I remind myself what he said to me earlier on the hood of the car: It might get heated, it will get passionate. I need to know you won’t mistake that for something else.

  “Emily.”

  “What about her?”

  “Do you know how they met?”

  “No idea. I had no fucking idea. I couldn’t have thought that up in my wildest dreams. I assume he tracked her down like he did with everyone else.” He dries off his dripping wet nude body with a plush white towel.

  “He said you were talking to her in the lobby of H.I. and you cut her off like she was nothing. You treated her like dirt and just walked away.”

  “Wait, what the fuck was he doing in the lobby?”

  “He was coming to reconcile with you.”

  Taylor cocks his head back and puffs out a sarcastic laugh. “Oooh, that’s rich. Really fucking rich. Come on Shy, you believe that bullshit? That he would ever reconcile with me?”

  “He had motive to. He wanted to come back home. I believed him when he said his goal was to talk things out with you that day. Instead when he saw what you did he followed her to comfort her.”

  “Eric was always such a fucking sucker, running after girls like a puppy dog.”

  “And you? You just let them run to you, right?”

  “Wait a second. Emily was starting to lose her bearings. That was the last time I saw her in person, that day she ran out of H.I. crying. She was trying to make a scene as some pathetic last stand. And yes, I walked away, and no, I didn’t run after her. She was in the m
iddle of threatening to expose me. I had enough of her bullshit and was calling her bluff. She wanted me to marry her! Fucking marry her and have a family. She knew if she tried to expose me I would crush her and I was sick of her idle threats. She was growing an unhealthy attachment to a false image of our relationship.”

  “Because of the things you did to her.”

  “Because of the things she wanted me to do. And the crazy was already waiting to pop out, trust me. I told you, she thought she could groom me into some sort of husband material for her. She saw a young, rich guy and she thought she could hook me in. She lied about being pregnant. I didn’t want to bring that up because I didn’t want to hurt you, but yes, she told me she was pregnant. Of course, eventually, she had to fess up because she wasn’t. She didn’t deserve another word from me.”

  “You thought she was pregnant?” Something about that knowledge makes my heart sink, like it makes their relationship more than just a contractual one. “Would you have stayed with her? If she was?”

  “Shyla, she wasn’t.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  “I don’t fucking know. I would’ve taken care of the child financially, but no, I wouldn’t have stayed with her. Thank god that didn’t happen. That would have been a nightmare. She was unstable. In fact, the more I think about it, her and Eric were a match made in hell.”

  “Very nice,” I sigh, trying hard not to acknowledge the humor in Taylor’s last sentence as I emerge from the shower and grab a towel. “So trading her with guys, making her steal things…you did that?”

  “Shyla, I’ve done some dark shit. And yes, I did those things with her. She could have said no whenever she wanted. She loved doing bad things.”

  Taylor throws air quotes around “bad.”

  “She was a good little girl from a small town and it made her feel sexy, okay? It turned her on.” Taylors says, drying his hair off with his towel.