The Fabulist

by Dawn L. Chiletz

  His eyes lower to mine and he breathes deeply and swallows hard as she continues to sing. I wonder if the song conveys too much for him to handle. Then he makes the confession that seals my heart. “I’m falling for you too, Sam. I’m falling hard.”

  And right then and there is when I realize what love might feel like.

  We’re all hands and mouths as he opens the door to his hotel room. I’ve already managed to unbutton three buttons on his shirt and my dress is unzipped down to my butt.

  He doesn’t even turn on the lights. The draperies are open and the lights from the city illuminate the room. We’re laughing in between our kisses. We can’t get each other’s clothes off fast enough.

  I pull his boxers down in one swift motion and he springs free. He laughs until I fall to my knees and take him in my mouth. His hand rests on the back of my head as I move over him hungrily. I’ve never been so desperate to give a guy head. Before Hogan, I only did it because I felt like I owed it to a guy for making me come. With him, it’s different. I want to know everything about him, including how he tastes.

  Fuck if it isn’t perfect too. The way he moves and responds to me turns me on even more. I know he’s getting closer and closer by the way he’s breathing and how hard he fists my hair in his hand. I’m relentless in my pursuit. I love knowing I’m driving him wild. Suddenly blow jobs just became my new favorite thing.

  “Sam,” he whispers, attempting to lift my mouth from him. “Fuck, woman. Who are you?”

  I lick my lips and he falls to his knees next to me, unclasping my bra and taking my breast into his mouth. His hand slides between my legs and I moan. He pulls me up from the floor and kisses my lips.

  “In the bed, now.”

  “Do you not know me well enough to know you can’t order me around? I don’t care if you are my own personal sex god, you can’t tell me what to do.”

  “All I heard from that is personal sex god.”

  I roll my eyes as he crawls backward on the bed and pulls me with him. I lurch forward and glance at the bed.

  “No bugs. I checked.” Damn, if he doesn’t remember.

  Smiling, I crawl forward and straddle him. His erection pushes into my thong. He flips me over and kisses my neck, then my shoulders and tugs a nipple between his teeth. I moan in pleasure as he continues to kiss his way down to my stomach, until he’s between my legs. He kisses me greedily through the bit of material before reaching under me and grabbing my ass.

  “This ass,” he says, shaking his head, “drove me insane. Ten fucking days of watching you wrestle in your sleep in a T-shirt and thong, lay out your underwear, and hold dildos. Ten fucking days of wanting to plunge my tongue into you and taste you.” He pushes my underwear to the side and licks me. “And bloody hell, if you aren’t fucking delicious.”

  I wriggle and moan under his expert touch. The man has serious skill. I build quickly, coming immediately. I can’t even control it. He never stops. He continues to explore me, touching me even after I tell him I already came. He slides his fingers into me again. I writhe under his touch. I grasp the covers and pillows as I scream out.

  “Hogan! In me… Now.”

  “I need a condom. Wait.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  “You are?” he asks, searching my eyes.

  “Do you trust me?”

  For a moment it’s as if I’ve asked him the most difficult question of his life. His face brightens and he smiles. “I really do.” He says it as if he’s surprised and I laugh. I know exactly how he feels because figuring out I trusted him surprised me too. Trust is the foundation for every beginning and our foundation seems pretty damn solid.

  “THIS IS NOT how I want to spend my last night with you,” I say in irritation as we make the drive to my parents’ for dinner.

  He doesn’t say a word. He knows I’m freaking out.

  “It’s not too late for you to back out. Ugh, I never should have let you do this. Well, it was nice knowing you. One night in the hell that is my family and you’ll be glad you’re getting away from me and going back to L.A. tomorrow.”

  He slows the car and pulls over on the side of the road.

  “Good idea. Make a run for it now while you have the chance.”

  He sighs and turns toward me. “You’re really nervous about this, aren’t you?”

  “You think?” I respond, eyes bulging. I cross my arms. “I know you want to be supportive, and you’re absolutely amazing, but my family is going to freak out when I tell them about the show. Plus…” I pause and bite my nail.

  “Plus what?” he asks with a slow grin.

  “I’ve… I’ve never brought a guy home before.”

  “I guess I’m pretty special then,” he says calmly.

  “Hogan, you don’t understand.”

  He reaches for my hands and pulls them toward him so I have to face him. “I understand your mom likes to make demeaning comments, that your family’s about to get a bomb dropped on them tonight, and you’re worried about introducing them to this bum you picked up in L.A., but I don’t care. What I do care about is being there to hold your hand and offer support.”

  “This bum? You’re far from a bum.”

  “The point is I’m here and if I can make things easier for you, then let me. Unless you think I’ll make it worse?”

  “You could never make it worse, but what you could do is run for the hills.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not going to run from you. You’re the one who runs from me, remember?”

  “Are you trying to fight with me right now?” I ask angrily.

  He sighs as he brings my hands to his lips. “I just want you to know, I’m not going anywhere. My family’s no picnic either, but I’m sure when you meet them, you won’t let their behavior impact our relationship. Just like I won’t let yours change ours.”

  “When I meet your family? Are you bringing me home, Hogan?” I ask playfully.

  He releases my hands, places the car in drive, and pulls back on the road.

  “You said when, not if. Does that mean you like me?”

  “You know I do and if it makes you feel any better, I’m thirty-three, and I’ve never brought a girl home either.”

  “It does make me feel better.” His lips curl up on one side, even though he tries to hide it.

  “I just feel bad for dragging you into my problems. Oh shit, left turn here… second house.”

  He parks front of the house and shuts off the lights. Turning off the engine, he unbuckles his seatbelt and lifts his arm onto the seat behind me.

  His brow wrinkles, and I know he’s serious. “Why would you think I’d leave you if things got tough? Do I seem like the type of guy who walks away? Do you think I’m going back to L.A. tomorrow and that will be the end?”

  My gut is telling me there’s more to his questions than meets the eye. I reach down deep, because he needs to understand what he’s getting himself into with me. “My longest relationship lasted a year. We slept together on the weekends and sometimes got food. I’ve never been with someone and wanted him around all the time, like you. And never has a guy ever wanted to hold my hand for the hard stuff. This”—I point at the house—“is the hard stuff and I don’t know what you being here really means.”

  “It means I’m all in.” He responds so quickly without having to think that I need clarification.

  “All in?” I question.

  He opens his hand and I place mine in his.

  “Do you remember me telling you the reason I didn’t have a girlfriend was because my work came first?”

  “I remember.”

  “Well, I’ve never been an ‘all in’ kind of guy. That is, until you walked away from me for the tenth time. I’d rather hold your hand when things are rough than anyone else’s when things are good.”

  I close my eyes and feel that outrageous smile only he can create spread across my face. I open my eyes and he’s tilted his head to the side, regarding me curiou
sly. “You’re fucking ridiculous,” I say, staring at his beautiful pensive face.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I do believe you. That’s the thing.”

  He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His voice cracks as he asks, “Would you walk away from me if things got bad?”

  “If things got bad?” His question throws me off guard.

  “Answer me,” he commands. “If you suddenly realized my life was a shit mess and you were smack dab in the center of it, would you walk away from me?”

  Do I want to be in his life no matter what? I unbuckle my seatbelt and place my hands on his cheeks. “Hogan Harper, I’m all in too. I’m not going anywhere.”

  He licks his lips and gently kisses me. Something in the way he kisses me tells me that he needed to hear that even more than I did.

  He breaks the kiss softly. “As much as I’d like to take this further, I’m afraid doing it in front of your parents’ home probably isn’t the best idea.”

  “Oh crap. Yeah.” I glance at the house and my shoulders slump. I have no choice. It has to be done.

  We amble up the walk to my parents’ door and I knock. “Are you ready?” I ask him.

  He smiles and steps to the side as the door opens. “Hey, peaches!” My dad pulls me into a tight hug.”

  “Hi, Dad. Umm... this is Hogan. Hogan, this is my dad.”

  My father stares at Hogan as if he’s never seen another guy before.

  Hogan holds out his hand. “Mr. Wittaker, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  My dad shakes his hand and glances at me. My dad just made it extremely obvious I’ve never brought anyone home.

  “Come in, please.”

  We enter the foyer and Dad offers to take my sweater. Hogan isn’t wearing a jacket. “I’m good, thanks.” This house is a cold, cold place and I came prepared.

  “Hey, baby sis.”

  Alex pulls me into a hug and squeezes me tight. He lets me go suddenly and I think I know why.

  “And who are you?” he asks protectively.

  “Stop being all macho and brotherly. Alex, this is Hogan.”

  He holds out his hand to Hogan, and Hogan shakes it. Alex doesn’t let go and neither does Hogan. “I’m Sam’s older, protective, slightly overbearing brother. So, Hogan, what are your intentions toward my sister? Are you her boyfriend or something?”

  And so it begins. “Honest to God. Can’t you just say hi without embarrassing the shit out of me? I’m twenty-seven fucking years old and when I finally bring someone home, you gotta make him and me feel uncomfortable and ask stupid-ass questions like that?”

  Hogan confidently replies, “I’m not uncomfortable, and yes, I’m her boyfriend.”

  My eyes dart to Hogan and I feel like they’re about to explode out of my brain. He’s my boyfriend?

  Alex lets go of his hand and laughs, gesturing to him approvingly. “See, he wasn’t uncomfortable.”

  I hear her before I see her. “Based on the colorful language by the front door, I can only assume my favorite little witch is home,” she hums. She rounds the corner dressed to the nines for dinner at home. Typical.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “Samantha.” She gives me half a hug and kisses the air on the side of my face. “I’m glad you decided to join us. I thought maybe you were going to sit in the car all night, making out.”

  She turns to Hogan and eyes him over reproachfully. Just as I’m about to speak, she says, “Well, since my daughter has no manners, I’ll have to introduce myself. Simone Baker Wittaker, and you are?” she asks, holding out the tips of her fingers.

  “Mom, this is Hogan Harper.”

  She sighs disapprovingly. “Honestly, Samantha, the man can speak for himself.”

  “Mrs. Wittaker.” He shakes what little bit of hand she provides. “Thank you for inviting me into your home.”

  She eyes him up and down. “Technically we didn’t invite you. Usually Samantha brings Carmen, whether we want her or not. We’ve gotten used to her presumptiveness.”

  “I appreciate being allowed to fill in for someone as lovely as Carmen.”

  “Please come in,” she says, waving her hand. “No need to stand by the door like animals. Alex, darling, would you be so lovely as to pour me another drink?”

  “Certainly, Mother.”

  We move into the living area. Hogan places his hand at the small of my back, offering reassurance. He seems completely unaffected by her.

  “So, Hogan,” she begins, motioning for us to sit, “why don’t you tell us a little about yourself.”

  “Mom, really?”

  “Samantha, hush. If you can’t be polite, why don’t you make yourself useful for once and go check on the roast, or at least fix your straggly hair.”

  I swallow my anger, and refusing to leave Hogan alone with her, sit on the couch. He waits for both my mother and me to sit before he does so. She must, if nothing else, recognize his impeccable manners.

  “Hogan, you were saying.” She motions for him to speak.

  “I’m the technical manager for Seamore Productions out of L.A.”

  “And what does a technical manager do exactly?”

  “I work the camera and provide support as needed.”

  He makes it sound so easy.

  “Hmm, doesn’t sound like you actually manage anything. So not really a manger then, more like a worker?”

  I flinch. I’m like a pot about to boil over. How dare she speak to him that way!

  “Pretty much, ma’am.”

  “No he’s not. He runs the damn thing. They depend on him to understand how all the equipment works and to make sure things go as planned. He knows everything about filming. He’s brilliant and modest. Something you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Sam…” my father admonishes.

  She sighs with disappointment as she shakes her head at me. “Well, as you probably already know, Hogan, Sam’s outspoken and hot-headed. I apologize for her rude behavior.”

  “Actually, I find her refreshing. She’s incredibly perceptive. Probably one of the most amazing women I’ve ever known.”

  I turn my head to him appreciatively and he nods ever so slightly, as if to say you’ve got this.

  Alex returns and hands her the drink. She touches the side of his face lovingly. He was gone long enough to make four drinks and check his messages, but apparently I’m the only one to notice.

  I glance at my father and he smiles brightly before giving me a sly, thumbs-up in Hogan’s direction. At least he’s trying.

  “And how exactly did you and refreshing Samantha meet?”

  Hogan takes my hand. I’ve never been so glad not to be alone.

  “I need to tell you something.” I swallow hard. “But before you react, all I ask is you let me explain everything before you bombard me with questions. Okay?”

  “Oh my Lord,” my mother huffs, raising a hand to her chest. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  “No! I’m not.” I press my head into my hands, and Hogan rubs my back.

  “If you’re here asking for money, I can tell you right now, it isn’t going to happen,” she adds.

  “Have I ever asked you for money?” I ask spitefully.

  “Simone, let’s just let Sam say what she needs to say,” my dad interjects.

  Knowing I need to get it over with before she starts again, I decide to blurt it out. “Bingham’s laid me off over two and a half months ago. I couldn’t pay my rent, so Carmen took me in. I started working at a bookstore, but it wasn’t enough to pay my bills, so I sold my car. I went on a reality TV show that’s going to air in a month on national TV, and Hogan was my cameraman. If I win, the reward will be a high-paying, high-profile, really amazing job.”

  I expel a deep breath and stare back and forth at shocked faces. Feeling better to have it all in the open, I start again, slowly. “Okay, so, let me explain now. What happened was—”

  My father says, “You lost your job?
Sam, why didn’t you tell me?”

  Then Alex says, “You moved in with Carmen? You could have stayed with me. I would have helped you.”

  And finally Mother, who zeroes in on what’s most important. “What do you mean, national TV? What kind of reality show? Dammit, Samantha, you’d better not embarrass this family any more than you already have!”

  “What kind of job, Sam? Doing what?” Dad asks.

  “Oh God, was it one of those shows where you beg a man to love you? Is he supposed to be your prize?” she asks, rolling her eyes and motioning to Hogan with her drink. “How in the world am I going to explain you to the ladies at the club?”

  I close my eyes briefly and stand. Hogan presses his lips into a fine line and rises with me.

  “I didn’t tell you, Dad, because I knew you’d worry. I want and need to do this on my own. I can’t tell you anything about the job until after the show airs. Alex, thanks for the offer but I knew if you knew, so would Mom.

  “Mom, I can tell you it wasn’t a dating show. Hogan is a prize, but I didn’t win him. I can’t say anything about the program other than it’s a show about uncovering lies. It’s what I’m best at apparently and if I somehow embarrass you, then it will have all been worth it.”

  “How dare you—” she begins.

  “Hogan, please take me home.” I wrap my arms around myself. He nods and follows me to the door.

  My father jumps up to stop me. “Sam, this is your home. You can stay here as long as you’d like.”

  I smile half-heartedly, “Thank you, Daddy, but—”

  “The hell she can! She won’t speak to me that way in my house. Walking in here with some playboy she met in L.A. on her arm and acting like we should be grateful she graced us with her presence? Who does she think she is?”

  On any other day, I might have shouted something back to her, but I’m tired of fighting my way through life. I realize I learned how to make rash judgements about people from her. I’m glad the show opened my eyes to the error of my thinking. I yank open the front door and march straight to Hogan’s rental, not saying another word.

  We drive away from the house and he gazes over to me. “Are you okay?”