Live Love Rewind: The Three Lives of Leah Preston

by Glynn, Anne

  From out of nowhere, Leah heard her own voice echo in her head: I want to find my one true love. That’s what I really want.

  “Are you all right?” Astrid asked.

  Taking the glasses from her face, Leah rubbed at the corners of her eyes. “Just feeling a little…odd.”

  “Look, when I helped you paint your bathroom, you said you owed me a favor. I’m calling it in. I want you to read this book.”

  Leah thought about it. In the past, Astrid would never have made this type of demand. Recently, however, she’d become much more outspoken. She’d been acting with more confidence, too.

  Her change in attitude had paid off. At work, she’d received the promotion she’d been chasing for over a year and her love life had flowered. In short, she was happy for the first time in a long time.

  “Later,” Leah tried. “Once I’ve finished ‘Twilight Tales’, I’ll seriously consider it. After I’ve met my deadline.”

  “After the deadline, you’ll find a new excuse. You’ll have another novel to write, then another and another. You said so yourself, it’s one of the curses of being a novelist these days. If a writer wants to pay their bills, they can never get off of the treadmill.”

  Leah knew Astrid was right. While there were some days when she loved sitting at the word processor, her joy in being a wordsmith had slowly diminished. The unrelenting grind of the job was the biggest reason why Twilight Tales was so far behind schedule.

  Picking up a golden circle of zucchini, she bit it in half. It’s warm, salty taste filled her mouth as she tried to think of another reason not to carry the ancient tome back to her house.

  Just looking at the cover, I’ll think of Josh showing himself to me. Knowing I was watching. With Astrid beneath him, wanting me to watch.

  I’d rather lose those memories, thank you.

  “I’ve read over Sun Zu’s advice so often, I can actually quote most sections,” Astrid said. She placed the book in Leah’s hands. “It’s your turn to do some studying. You have to promise.”

  Leah quickly flipped through the pages. The volume was short, so that was a plus. There were illustrations between the chapters, further reducing its length. She could read through it in a few hours.

  The pages were so old, she could almost smell the dust on them.

  “You’re barely glancing at the pages,” Astrid accused her.

  “Whatever.” She clapped the book closed. “When I can, I’ll give it a try.”

  “Green paint dripped onto my hair and it took forever to get it out. I expect you to do more than try.”

  “I’ll read it, okay? You win.” In the end, Leah decided, it wouldn’t matter. She owned a shelf full of self-help books and not one of them had ever created a lasting change in her life.

  Words on a page could never do that.

  Chapter Five

  “So a few days pass and you’ve already met your dream man?” Leah said into the phone.

  “Did I use those words?” Mary Ellen responded. “I said I went to a line dance and struck up a conversation with a good-looking guy. A widowed rancher who, it so happens, knows a few things about genealogy.”

  “A cowboy who dances and shares an interest in your favorite hobby? How can he not be the man of your dreams?”

  “The man of my dreams would ask me out on a date.”

  “Maybe he’s shy.”

  “Shy is cute, when the guy is sixteen and you are, too. It’s a lot less cute when your crush is a full-grown man. Hunter asked me out after a single Tequila Slammer.”

  “What’s going on with Hunter, anyway?”

  “He took his new girlfriend and the two of them moved to a trailer in Asshat, Texas. May they both rot in Hell.”

  “As long as you’re not bitter.”

  “How about you? Anything happening with Professor Handsome?”

  I never should have shared his nickname, Leah thought. She wished now that she hadn’t mentioned him at all. As far as Mary Ellen was concerned, Parkins checked off all of the boxes on Leah’s Dream Lover Checklist.

  Gorgeous? Check.

  Sexy accent? Check.

  Intelligent? Check.

  Talented? Check.

  Unobtainable? It wasn’t any part of Leah’s wish list but it was definitely part of her reality. Mary Ellen could put a check mark beside that one, too.

  “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” Leah said, feeling completely hopeless. “Talk to you in a few days, ‘kay?”

  Ending the call, she rolled over on her bed and returned the phone to its base. The Art of Whore sat beside the base, purposely ignored. She’d left the book on the top of the nightstand, undisturbed, since the night she’d carried it home from After Hours.

  Glumly, Leah considered the ancient tome. I promised. I have to at least try.

  Although I could just say I’d read it.

  She hated to lie, though, especially to a friend. Besides, Astrid knew her too well. She’d ask her questions about what she’d read, Leah would try to bluff, and she’d get caught. It wasn’t worth the grief.

  Pulling a blanket up to her chin, she reached for the book. “You are an utter waste of time. In a few weeks, Ian goes back to England and I’ll never see him again. He won’t remember me from Adam – or Eve, for that matter – but I’ll probably never forget him.”

  Vaguely hopeful that this tattered relic might somehow give her a way to forestall the inevitable, she opened the book. The smell of dust returned as she viewed the cover page. The illustration was wonderfully drawn, its delicate lines depicting a lovely Chinese woman. The woman’s kimono was open, her breasts exposed, and she gazed at the viewer without shame.

  “If I looked like you, I’d walk around topless, too,” Leah told the drawing.

  Flipping past the title page, she considered the Table of Contents. Each chapter had its own heading:

  The Opponent

  The Supplicant

  The Watcher

  The Aggressor

  The Conqueror

  Just five chapters, Leah noted. The titles aren’t too inspiring, they sound like something out of a kung-fu flick, but I can do five chapters standing on my head.

  I’ll be done before I go to sleep.

  She turned to the first chapter, only to find a new illustration. The Chinese woman was naked in this drawing, her kimono crumpled at her feet. Comfortable in her nudity, the woman’s legs were spread. A man knelt between her legs, his mouth on her sex.

  “Ah,” Leah said. Abandoning the text, she flipped to the next illustration.

  Completely exposed, the woman sat across from her lover, her legs open and her ankles resting on his shoulders. He was wearing some kind of ceremonial gown, open at the waist with his penis erect. He was about to penetrate his lover.

  Leah felt herself grow moist. Belatedly aware she was touching herself, she slammed the book shut.

  No, no, she told herself. Oh, no.

  Masturbate? To drawings?

  How desperate am I?

  Returning the book to the nightstand, she flipped the switch on the bedside lamp and the room went dark.

  Punching at her pillow, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

  # # #

  At first, she wondered where she was. While the space around her was similar in size and shape to her own bedroom, it felt foreign. There was the same type of nightstand as the one she owned and a crude but inspiring buffalo bowl, like the piece she’d been given as a child. It was the buffalo bowl that had first interested her in sculpture.

  The rest of the room was less familiar. The floor was made of bamboo while the mattress beneath her was thin and rested directly on the floor.

  A window filled almost all of one wall. Moonlight bathed her body, letting her enjoy the sight of the beautiful silk kimono covering her. She felt the fabric caress her skin as she rose from the mattress. Going to the glass rectangle in front of her, she looked out at the world.

  “This is so beautiful,�
� she said, lightly pressed her fingers against the windowpane. Hundreds of feet below, black waves lapped at an empty beach. A full moon hovered overhead, creating such a striking scene that she imagined she’d seen it before.

  But I have seen it before, she thought.

  It was early on, when I was still writing articles, back when magazines were a decent avenue for free-lancers. This looks just like the photograph they used for my story about the South China Sea.

  But this isn’t a photograph. It’s real.

  Suddenly, she sensed someone was entering the room behind her. Cautiously, she checked over her shoulder.

  Ian Parkins filled the opening to her bedroom door, dressed as if he was in class. Reaching for his brown tie, he pulled it from his collar.

  “Professor,” Leah said, surprised.

  He unbuttoned his white shirt, telling her, “Fraternization between teachers and students isn’t allowed.”

  His shirt opened, revealing a slim but powerful chest. His well-defined abdominal muscles rode above the belt on his pants. He pulled the belt from his waist, letting his pants fall to the floor.

  “If you need help tonight,” he said, naked and walking toward her, “you’ll need to let me know.”

  “Ian?”

  He drew closer and the outside light played over his cock. Erect and ready, its purple head bobbed eagerly as he walked.

  “What are you doing?”

  Gathering her in his arms, he lowered them both to the bed. His breath felt warm as his lips whispered beside her ear. “You really should see me in my office.”

  “We can’t,” she said, then moaned as he knelt between her legs. She spread herself and he reached around her, clasping her buttocks with his hands. He brought her into his hungry mouth and she felt his tongue teasing and playing, demanding she give him what he wanted.

  Crying out, she woke up.

  Chapter Six

  When have I ever had a dream that vivid? Leah wondered as she dressed the next morning. Or that dirty?

  Do you think that’s why Astrid has read this book, over and over/ Why she’s practically memorized the entire thing?

  Well, if so, she’s welcome to it. All it’s done is to leave me horny. Eager to play without any real man in sight.

  The doorbell rang. Checking herself in the side mirror and deciding she looked a mess but not a monster, she went to answer the door.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Astrid said. She was dressed in tight blue jeans and a cute, pink t-shirt.

  “Don’t talk to me, you…you porn collector,” Leah told her.

  Astrid smiled brightly. “Those drawings are something, aren’t they?”

  She followed her friend into the house. Leah left to collect the book while Astrid went into the kitchen. When she returned, her friend had set out a pair of tea cups. A kettle of water sat on the stove, puffing a few light fingers of steam.

  Leah laid The Art of Whore on the dinette table. “Take this home with you.”

  “Did you read it?”

  “Kind of.”

  “You either read it or you didn’t.”

  Leah turned toward the cupboard, bringing out an assortment of tea bags.

  “But at least you looked at the illustrations,” Astrid continued. “Maybe got a little wet from the illustrations. Maybe more than a little wet.”

  Pretending a sudden fascination with the varieties of tea bags, Leah busied herself sorting through the different flavors.

  “You have to actually read the book, the entire book. It’s fantastic and it changed my life.”

  “That’s nice,” Leah said. “I think that’s wonderful for you, I do, but this isn’t my kind of thing.”

  Just like it didn’t use to be your kind of thing, she thought. Harlequin romances used to get you hot and bothered.

  “You’ll never know if you don’t try.”

  “You want the Herbal Mint or the Green Peach?”

  “That wasn’t our deal.”

  You helped me with one bathroom!

  “Can’t we make a different deal?”

  “No.”

  Leah said. “First of all, there’s the book’s title. It’s offensive. Then, yes, there’s the illustrations. They’re kind of raunchy.”

  “Did you see the one at the end?”

  “Last, and not even close to least, there’s the chapter titles. The Opponent? Love isn’t a fight.”

  “Love isn’t a fight,” Astrid agreed, “but finding true love definitely can be. Besides, if you’d actually paid a little attention to the words on the pages, you’d realize the first chapter is only one step in the process.”

  “So what’s the first step? I put on boxing gloves and….” She didn’t know how to finish her sentence. The suggestion was ridiculous.

  “First, you learn your would-be lover’s most sensual secrets.” Opening the book, Astrid found the section she wanted. She showed it to her friend:

  A true courtesan discovers their

  lover as they discover themselves.

  Know your lover’s mind and

  you will win your lover’s heart.

  – Sun Zu, The Opponent

  Leah shrugged.

  “If you don’t make a serious effort to get Ian’s attention soon, you never will. You know he’s returning to Europe.”

  “It’s just an infatuation, anyway.”

  “It’s never going to be anything more if you don’t put yourself out there.”

  “I’ve tried a couple of times,” Leah said. “It doesn’t matter. He won’t break the school’s stupid rules, the one about students and teachers.”

  “You have to give him a reason to be naughty. Do you know how I met Josh?”

  “At a club, right?”

  “That’s what we let everyone think. I actually met him when he showed up at my office. His firm was in charge of checking the security on our computers.”

  “He asked you out?”

  “He said he couldn’t. His company’s HR manager refused to allow their employees to associate with any of their clients.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I’d already found this book.” Astrid tapped its cover. “I told Josh, he could get a new job or miss out on the best girlfriend of his life. He thought it over for about ten seconds, then called in and gave notice the next day. And we’re living happily ever after.”

  The tea kettle whistled and Leah took it from the stove. She poured the hot water into two separate cups.

  “I was so afraid you were going to say, we loved happily ever after.”

  “That, too.” Opening her purse, Astrid brought out some pages, folded over and stapled together. “Give me the Herbal Mint. Oh, and this is for you.”

  Leah studied the first paper as the tea steeped. “‘Turn-ons: Garter belts, nude stockings. Fuck me pumps’. Did Josh give this to you?”

  “Yep, but those aren’t Josh’s turn-ons.”

  “Interesting.” She pulled out the second page. “Oh, this is colorful. ‘Sexiest cartoon character: Tinkerbelle’. What is this? The local perv’s personal guide to fun?”

  “Close. This is Ian Parkin’s personal guide to fun.”

  Her tea cup at her lips, Leah lowered it. “Say again?”

  “A few days ago, I sent Josh out on a recon mission,” Astrid said. “He found the good Professor at After Hours, busy in the game room. He challenged him to a round of darts – you’ll find darts under the ‘Hobby’ section, right below ‘Favorite sexual position’.”

  Leah turned to the second page. “This is bizarrely thorough.”

  “Anyway, after every game, they shared a round of drinks. Then another. With Foghorn’s help, Ian was plenty lubricated before he took a taxi home.”

  Spreading the three pages apart, Leah scanned all of the headings. “He shared a lot.”

  “So much for our private, reserved Englishman, right?” Astrid sipped at her tea. “After a half dozen Bitter Shandies, he didn’t keep many secrets
. Josh, my hero, followed my checklist and found the answers.”

  “That’s despicable,” Leah told her. She read over the third page. “But, also, fairly wonderful. Ian likes women who wear eyeglasses?”

  “You’re made for each other.”

  “Serena doesn’t wear glasses and he’s attracted to her.” She lowered the last page to the table. “That part has to be wrong. Besides, Josh isn’t a darts player. You told me he doesn’t like to drink, either. How did you convince him to help?”

  “I told him you were desperate –”

  Leah made an unhappy noise.

  “– and my best friend, and anything he did for you would result in a favor for him. Tit for tat.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  Astrid shook her head. “You don’t want to know. It involves a popular chain restaurant, mixed drinks and nudity. Tits for that, so to speak.”

  “I’m touched,” Leah said, realizing she meant what she’d said. “You’ve convinced me. I’ll try again. I’ll finish your book.”

  “About time.”

  “Anything else you need?”

  “Tonight, you study. Go over the first couple of chapters and call me if you have any questions. Tomorrow, we’re going shopping!”

  Chapter Seven

  In the beginning, approach your lover

  with head bowed. Allow him to believe

  he is in command while, truly, you control

  the situation.

  – Sun Zu, The Supplicant

  Leah used her index finger to push the eyeglasses up on the bridge of her nose.

  Girls who wear glasses, never get passes, she remembered. Or was it, girls with big asses, never get passes?

  Either way, I’m screwed.

  She considered her new outfit. If tonight’s gambit didn’t work, she doubted she’d ever wear it again.

  I like wearing my jeans and regular tops, she protested to the world in general. They’re comfy. They’re also sensible for someone working with wet clay.