by Joey W. Hill
"Wow. That pack of yours is like the bottomless bag Hermione had in the Harry Potter books."
He winked at her again. When he removed the jeans, he revealed a pair of dark blue and green plaid boxers. "Good thing I didn't wear my leopard print thong today. It would scare the ducks."
She realized he intended to use the boxers as a modest swimsuit. Well, they'd be modest until they were soaking wet. She was looking forward to seeing that, even as she glanced at the water, concerned. There were a lot of no swimming signs posted, but Des seemed unconcerned about the reasons behind that. The pond had fish, ducks and geese, so she surmised dubiously the water might not be too toxic.
He put his shoes back on without the socks. "Are you sure the water's safe?" she asked.
"I'm Spiderman. I've already been bitten by a radioactive spider." He kissed her lightly and then waded into the water without hesitation, though the ripple of gooseflesh across his arms and back suggested the morning sun hadn't yet warmed it to a comfortable temp. Some of the geese plopped into the water, paddling companionably after him. When he reached the point he couldn't touch, Des began to do a breast stroke, headed toward the boat.
At the sight of Des, the boy had sidled back down along the shoreline. His father was absorbed in his phone again, oblivious to the rescue effort. The boy plucked at the switches on the remote control box and looked at Julie. "He's not going to steal my boat, is he?"
"Oh, honey. Heavens no. He's going to get it loose for you."
"Oh." He brightened and, with a boy's typical relish, he foretold gore and doom for Des. "My friend Buddy says there's giant snapping turtles in there that can bite off your leg. And the most venomous snakes in the whole world."
"I think those are in Australia, not here." Though Julie saw several sizeable turtles on the platform, ponderously climbing over one another to avoid the dip of the boat's mast in its caught position. She hoped Buddy was a big fibber. She liked all of Des's parts, and didn't want any to fall prey to snapping turtles.
He'd reached the sailboat and seemed to be having trouble determining what had captured it. He sank below the surface. The ducks and geese circled, quacking among themselves at the oddity of a human swimming in their midst. Julie felt a trickle of unease. Damn it, Des. If he didn't emerge, and she had to go rescue him, she'd kill him.
"It's loose," the boy said excitedly as the boat started drifting their way. The remote also started to function again. As the child operated the controls, Julie heard a healthy purring noise from it, not the earlier futile tick-tick.
Des broke the water's surface a few feet away and started back to shore, his expression cheerful as he saw the boy navigating the craft in the same direction. Man and ship arrived at almost the same time.
As he trudged out of the water, he slicked his hair back, an effect that sharpened the planes of his face and made even more of his deep set eyes and moist lips. She'd been right about that plastering effect. Thank goodness the shorts were a dark fabric, else others at a greater distance would be enjoying the well-defined view she was getting.
"Hey, you said this isn't a date situation," he teased her. "No ogling. And no comments about cold water."
"A fine, male form is worth ogling, whether it belongs to a friend or more than a friend," she informed him. "I suppose you don't look at female strangers with nice racks."
"Of course not. That would be treating them like sex objects, and--" Whatever else he was about to say was muffled as she tossed his T-shirt over his face. He removed it, eyes twinkling, and used it to dry off before putting his feet back in his jeans and working them back up his still damp thighs.
She chuckled as he grimaced but managed it with an intriguing flexing of muscles. "It's like taking off one of those Chinese finger puzzles, in reverse," he complained.
"Hmm." She'd automatically put out a hand to balance him, but as he straightened, her touch drifted across his chest, over the short hairs glittering with water droplets. From there, she slid her fingertips up to his throat and along the strands of wet hair on his head. His eyes stilled at her caress and she almost drew her hand back, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. He tilted his head to brush his jaw along her wrist, but lifted a brow at her bemused expression. "What?"
"I like this look. Very...Tarzan."
"You can see all of it in the shower. If you agree that friends help friends scrub noxious water off one another."
She dimpled, but uncertainty nixed her overwhelming desire to agree. She stepped back. "Ahem. I think someone wants to talk to you."
Des turned. The boy had pulled out the boat and was walking over to them. "That was really cool," he said, sticking out one adolescent hand. "Thanks, man. I'm Lawrence."
"You're welcome, Lawrence." Des shook the outstretched paw. "Tell me about your boat."
The boy launched into an enthusiastic enumeration of the boat's specs that went far over Julie's head, but Des seemed to take it in stride.
"Hey, your rigging snapped here. Let's get that fixed. Do you know how to do a bowline?"
The boy didn't. He brought the boat's stand over so he and Des could prop the vessel up and go over the finer points of rigging knots. In the meantime, Julie noticed Lawrence's father had finally stopped checking his messages and realized his son was talking to a wet stranger.
"Dad, Des got my boat loose," Lawrence said as the man approached with an expression caught between fixed politeness and a scowl.
"Yeah. Thanks. Time to go. I'll pick you up some McD's on the way back to your mother's. Let's go."
As he strode past them with a grudging flicker of acknowledgement to Des and Julie, Julie wished she had a Taser handy. The boy bit his lip, but he saw Julie's look. "It's okay," he told her in a low voice. "He's kind of a jerk. I like Dan, my stepdad, much better. And my mom's really cool. But he's my dad, so..."
"He's your dad." Des shook the boy's hand once more. "You're pretty cool yourself, Lawrence. You take care of yourself."
"I will. Thanks again, man."
Des and Julie watched the kid go, trailing after his father.
"Thank God for Dan," Julie said hotly. "Else I was about to kidnap that kid and take him home."
"He'd like Betty's horses," Des agreed. He looked at himself and sighed. "Guess this calls it a morning for us, love. I should wash off before I start to glow. I'll drop you back off at the theater. Unless you're interested in that shower offer...?"
"I'm sticking to the friendship idea. Until after opening night," she allowed.
"Really?" He shifted closer. "That's new. What changed?"
"Your heroism impressed me."
"All part of my diabolical plan," he said, but he touched her cheek, his expression serious. "Julie."
She pressed into the contact briefly, then stepped back and took his hand. She liked holding his hand, for practical purposes as much as other reasons. She could somewhat control him touching her elsewhere, because she didn't think clearly when he was doing that.
"Let's keep it as friends, until I know how I feel about what you do with other subs. That just feels right to me. I don't want to talk about it, because we've talked about it enough. This is something I have to figure out from the heart. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah. So does this."
Okay, so maybe she couldn't keep him from touching her whenever, however he wanted. When he bent and put cold, damp lips on hers, she knew she couldn't get close to him without getting wet herself, but after two seconds she didn't care. She curled one set of fingertips over his bare shoulder, the other hooking into the waistband of his jeans and the elastic of the wet boxers. His hipbone pressed against her knuckles.
As he kissed her, the sunshine warmed her body outside as he warmed her inside. He cupped her face, fingers tunneling in her hair below her barrette. He drew it over her shoulder to stroke.
When he lifted his head, she stared into his eyes. What she saw there made her wonder if she wasn't the only one rocked by what happened
between the two of them whenever they did that. He kept his tone light, though, as if he knew how easily spooked she could be.
"Until opening night, then," he said.
Chapter Six
Despite staying insanely busy for the next few days and avoiding Des the couple times he came to the theater to go over his scene with Harris, it preyed on her mind. She wasn't going to be able to wait until opening night to resolve it. Or maybe she just wanted to get the letdown over sooner rather than later.
When he tied up another submissive, touched her, and became aroused by her responses the way he had with Julie, she wouldn't be able to handle that. No matter what she'd rationalized, she knew it was far different from watching two actors kiss during a play.
She really wasn't amused by the term rope bunny anymore.
Despite Billie Dee-Lite's taunt about that "branding," she couldn't trust herself to believe Des's possessiveness that day was anything more than his natural protectiveness and pride in the integrity of his craft. He'd have reacted the same way if another of his submissives was the one who'd been nearly lynched.
And she was so certain of that because of the damned intuition that Madison had praised. Des was funny, kind and sexy, and made her feel wonderful. But there was a wall inside him. A wall that suggested his only interest was exploring her submission and enjoying some friendly pleasure together.
She wasn't wired that way. She wished to God she was, because it was obvious Des was more than capable of giving a girl a great time. But if she was going to have sex without love, she'd have it with her vibrator, not with a living human being who could fuck with her head in the worst ways.
She wasn't going to make it awkward for him. She'd summon up the courage and figure out a way to confirm her suspicions without sounding like she was asking for more than he wanted to give. Then she could walk away with her dignity intact. Sure. Piece of cake.
She should do it by phone, because it was impossible when she was with him. But each time she picked up the phone, she'd remember him standing behind her at the Conservatory, his breath on her throat. Or him bringing her to orgasm on the stage, his gaze riveted upon her. The aftercare he'd done, wrapping a blanket and himself around her, holding her, calling her love. Him swimming in a polluted pond to rescue a boy's boat, his pleased expression when he saw the boat free and the boy's relief. His hair slicked back on his head and body shivering slightly in the cool air.
"You do not seem like the Taylor Swift type to me."
"Hmm? What?" She broke out of her absorption to see Harris studying her with a peculiar look on his face.
"You're humming 'Today Was A Fairytale.'" Light dawned in his expression. "You're thinking about Des, aren't you? Spiderman. His subs always seem to get that starry-eyed look when they have sessions planned with him."
What a perfect way to underscore a point, like a dull edged knife sawing through her middle. "Des and I aren't like that," she said with forced casualness. "He showed me some rope stuff once, so I'd understand it better here. I'm just happy we're on schedule and things are unfolding so well for the performance."
Harris gave her a dubious look but moved off the topic and back to the dry tech run they had coming up tonight, when their student stage hands finished their classes for the day.
She had no one to blame but herself for his or anyone else's doubts, including her own. But that was the final straw. She'd visit Des at his work. He couldn't do anything to overwhelm her defenses at work, right?
It was time to get to the bottom of this in whatever convoluted, awkward way was needed. God help her, and poor Des. He'd be glad she was walking away. The thought only made things worse, but also confirmed what she kept telling herself. Her heart could refuse to listen, but her brain knew the truth.
She needed to abstain from romantic relationships of any kind. Period. Otherwise this hamster wheel of redundant emotion would drive her to insanity.
Julie pulled up to the job site. Harris had fortunately known where Des was working today so she hadn't had to alert him with a text. While she told herself she wasn't going to lose her resolve, now that she was here, faced with the actual task of having the discussion, it seemed more daunting. And ludicrous. She'd had an overreaction fueled by too much thinking and her dysfunctional and overly dramatic personality.
Being confronted with an army of men working on the new construction site didn't help. Their pickups and vans clustered around the house like a drive-in movie. Hammering, sawing, power tools and men's voices created a drone like bees around a hive.
She noticed a half dozen children of varying ages gathered on the sidewalk, watching. Two straddled bicycles, one held a skateboard and another was on roller skates. The remaining two were on foot. The myriad transportation options available to the young. She idly imagined skateboarding to work if she eventually found a small place near the theater.
Which she would do if she was planning on a long term stay in Matthews, which she wasn't. The thought wouldn't have occurred to her, if not for a couple over-the-top experiences with a skinny, young roofer who didn't seem that skinny or young when his strong arms were holding her, or he had her captured in his ropes.
Which was exactly why she was here and needed to go through with this, even if she had to have the discussion in front of a battalion of wide-eyed grade schoolers and sweaty men in tool belts.
She'd parked near the kids. Since she had the windows down, she heard several of them call out. "Do the Slinky. Slinky!"
As she glanced back at the house, she discovered the roofing crew coming down the ladders. They must be taking a scheduled break. She took it as a sign, one that made her feel better and worse about the chances for her private conversation that couldn't wait.
She looked to see if Des was one of the men coming down and didn't locate him. Then she lifted her gaze to the roof and did.
He was by himself, standing straight and tall as if he wasn't on a steep incline that looked miles above the ground. When he raised a hand to acknowledge the kids, they whooped in response.
His hair was tied back under a bill cap, and he wore a gray T-shirt with some kind of logo on it over his jeans. Standing on one leg and then the other, demonstrating the balance of a flamingo, he removed his work shoes and socks. Putting the socks in the shoes, he tossed them off the roof, letting them thud to the ground.
"What is he..." She'd left the car and was a few feet from the knot of children. None of them noticed her, their eyes all on Des. A blink later, she understood why. Her heart jumped into her throat.
Up on the spine of the roof, he levered himself into a nimble handstand, his back to his audience. He held the pose for several beats, then slowly let his feet come over his head, down toward the roof's slope. It seemed like an impossible angle for anyone's spine, but then everything speeded up. His feet came down to complete the full backbend, and he used the propulsion to catapult him swiftly to his feet and forward into another handstand, but this time he didn't pause. Julie bit back a cry.
As he kept going, building speed, he did look like a Slinky going down a set of stairs. Three times, and he was at the edge of the roof. He somehow slowed his forward progress enough to hold himself up in a handstand again. He twisted around and his body swung toward the house like a trapeze artist, his toes finding purchase against the siding. He hung there for a second, then pumped his feet out and he let go, dropping two stories to the ground, light as a cat. As the kids cheered, he did a standing somersault and took a bow in their direction.
Julie noticed some of the other contractors chuckling and waving at him, that gesture that communicated yeah, you're a crazy bastard. This was apparently all routine. Since the kids had called for "the Slinky", she guessed it was.
As the children moved off, the show over, she saw Des's attention shift and find her. His brown eyes lit with pleasure, which made her want to ignore all the warning signs of a crushed heart. That was why they called it a crush, right? Because the heart could
be frozen, pulverized and served up like a snow cone.
He put his shoes and socks back on, and said something to a couple of the guys. A few wolf whistles followed him across the street, which he answered with a quick flipped bird and a comment she didn't catch but they did, laughing him off. She heard them using the same name for him the kids had.
"Slinky?" she said as he approached with that relaxed, sinuous walk he had.
"Yeah, it kind of stuck. I actually thought about it as a scene name, the Kinky Slinky, but it was too campy. And I'm not really into scene names. I like just Des."
"Good decision. What else did they say?" She nodded toward the men.
"The usual. Tell her when she wants a real man, they'll be here waiting. And that you're way too hot for me, which that part is true."
She flushed, even as she felt silly for the unsophisticated reaction. "What did you say back?"
"To the real man thing? That you didn't have any use for a guy choking on his own broken teeth. What are you doing here? Just couldn't wait one more day to see me covered in work filth?"
"Oh, you're nothing next to the homeless guy behind the theater. He hasn't bathed since Y2K."
"I'm surprised you could keep your hands off him." He smiled, but his brown eyes were suddenly far more focused on her. "I'm going to get you dirty, so you'll just have to deal. You've been avoiding me, and you're the best looking thing I've seen all day."
"Um...since you're working with a bunch of equally grungy men, I think I'm insulted."
"Come here." Ignoring that, he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her to him with that effortless overwhelming strength that didn't give her breath for refusal before he was kissing her. Yes, he was dirty, but beneath it, he was Des. She pressed her body against him, reveling in his hands pushing into her hair, taking control, possessing her from head to toe.
When he lifted his head, she blinked and blurted it out. Desperately. "I can't do this anymore."
He drew back and studied her expression. "Do what?"
"Let you overwhelm me with the Dom thing and the rope thing and these kinds of kisses that only happen in The Princess Bride. And how old are you anyway? For real? You won't even tell me that, because this doesn't mean anything to you."
