by Ash Harlow
I try viewing the cottage through his eyes, and, yeah, I can see what he means. It’s dilapidated, and that’s being kind. I retrieve a bucket that’s blown across the yard and come to rest against a huge driftwood log we use as a seat.
When Reuben tries to open the door for me, I nudge him out of the way. “There’s a trick to it,” I say, taking hold of the handle, lifting slightly, then pushing. The door needs rehanging. Something to do with loose hinges. Another thing Granddad says will see him out.
It’s gloomy inside, and I light a lamp.
“You don’t even have electricity.”
“No hot water, either,” I tease, sure it will wind him up.
“Now I’m feeling guilty, living down there in that big house with all the luxuries. How have you showered?”
“Fast and cold. We usually have hot water, but something’s gone wrong. I hoped it was as simple as an empty gas bottle, but that’s full, so who knows.”
“Why didn’t you say something? You could have used my shower.”
Irritation has crept into his voice, and I don’t know why that is, because the state of my water heating shouldn’t be bothering him. At this rate, if he knew how I’d grown up, bathing in a river year-round, he’d blow a fuse. I’m gathering my things, jamming my clothes into my bag.
“Stella?”
I wrestle with the zipper and finally get it closed. Reuben grabs the handle.
“Why didn’t you say something about your hot water?” he asks.
“I’m only here for a few days, so it doesn’t really matter.” His brow creases, and if I had my camera, that would be a winning shot.
“We’ll see about that,” he mutters, and a little flutter sets up in my belly.
I gather together my camera bags, and Reuben reaches for those, too. I shake my head. “I get to carry the crown jewels. I don’t trust you not to hurl them into the sea.”
“You’re infuriating, you know that? It’s nearly dark. I don’t want you hurting yourself on that track because you’re carrying a load of gear.”
“I climb cliffs carrying this stuff, and I can do that track blindfolded.”
Reuben scowls and makes for the door.
“Lift first, then pull,” I instruct.
“Jesus, does anything around here work properly?”
“Are you always this grumpy?”
“Seeing you in this squalor makes me grumpy.”
I extinguish the lamp and follow him out the door. “I’ll try not to tell Granddad you insulted his castle.”
“Get here,” he says, pulling me hard against a cliff-like body I’d love to climb. “I have no intention of insulting you or your granddad, but this place could do with a renovation. We can talk about its barely-arrested decay another time because right now, I’m going to kiss you.”
His word is good. He kisses me, soft, hard, passionately, and I’d stay glued to him forever, duelling with his tongue, if it wasn’t for the fact that the strap on my camera bag has twisted and is cutting off circulation to my arm. We break apart, but Reuben’s got hold of my chin.
“Don’t be stubborn, Stella. Letting me help you won’t turn you soft, okay?” He moves my head up and down, like I’m nodding. “Good, I’m glad we agree.”
I’m still pressed against him and immediately feel that letting him help me doesn’t turn him soft, either. This is my third encounter with his cock today, and each time it’s been impressively hard. I adjust my hips a little, wishing I was taller so that I could continue where I left off this afternoon, shamelessly rubbing against his pressing need.
“We don’t even know each other, Reuben,” I say.
“No, but I appreciate your effort to become better acquainted.” He grips my ass and lifts me. Ah, now I can rub away until my heart, or my pussy, is content. “And we’ve got this storm to thank for forcing us into close proximity,” he adds, then kisses my forehead, his mouth and tongue setting off a tingling sensation through me. The simplest thing and I’m ready to plead for something more. “You’ll be at my mercy, Stella, and I intend to make you beg.”
He doesn’t know how close I was. I’m lowered to the ground, and he steadies me while I find my feet.
Following him down the track, gives me the opportunity to admire his broad shoulders and easy gait. A massive frond crashes to the ground from one of the nikau palms, startling both of us.
“Are you okay, firecracker?”
“I’m good.”
Our words are whipped about in the air by the rising wind. Reuben’s on holiday, and I expect he wanted great weather, but to be honest, it’s fantastic on the island when it storms. You feel like the last person left on earth.
***
I love cooking with Reuben. My ex was the type that thought the only time men should go near the food was once it had been plated up. Why did I stay so long with a dick like him when there were guys like Reuben out there? Except, again I come to the understanding that I have no idea who Reuben is. The air in the kitchen is thick with expectation. We work around each other, but when Reuben moves me to access a cupboard, his hands linger on my hips, and I’m in no rush to pull away.
He leans over me while I cook the fish, his hand on my shoulder. I have never had a hook-up in my life, never casually picked up a guy in a bar. My ex is the only man I’ve had sex with. I can also say I’ve never felt this heightened state of arousal for an entire day. Skipping dinner and getting down to it would suit me fine. But there’s one thing.
I want Reuben to tell me who he is, and until he volunteers that information, this goes no further. If I’m going to have sex with the second guy in my lifetime, I want to know his last name.
I’ve cooked enough fish for the two of us, so I cover the plate and return the uncooked fillets to the fridge. Reuben is right there to open the door for me. I remark that we’ve got enough left for dinner tomorrow night.
“There’s meat in the freezer. I could cook us steaks one night,” Reuben says.
By the way he prepared a salad and started a discussion about the best method to cook the potatoes, I believe he’d do a fine job. “I don’t eat meat. I’m pescetarian,” I explain.
“Presbyterians eat meat in my country. Is it different over here? Some spin-off sect or something?”
I laugh and choke on my drink. “Are you serious?” I ask, carrying the platter of fish to the table.
“Totally. Why, what’s funny?”
“I’m pescetarian. It means I don’t eat meat, but I eat fish.”
“I thought I’d left that faddy shit behind in LA. Are you going to give me a lecture?”
“Not at all, I just don’t like the taste of meat.”
Reuben glances at his crotch, then back at me. He points his finger at his face and draws a circle in the air. “This is a look of extreme disappointment.”
I put the dish on the table and point at it. “This is a look of fish going cold.”
He pulls out my chair and seats me, then drags his chair up so close our legs touch. “Let me cook you a steak tomorrow night and see if I can convert you.”
“I won’t eat it, but I’m quite happy for you to cook it for your dinner. I’ll have fish.”
“You have no idea what you’re missing.”
I think I do.
7 ~ REUBEN
Again Stella has cooked a stunning dinner. “I swear this is the best food I’ve ever eaten. You might turn me pesky if you keep this up.”
Stella pushes her plate away and rubs her stomach. “You can’t beat fresh fish and home-grown vegetables. I’ve overdone it; I couldn’t eat another thing,” she says.
I could, but I’m not thinking about food. All through dinner I’ve had this growing need to be straight with her and tell Stella who I am. It’s a risk. A huge risk, but not only do I want to know everything about her, I want her to know all about me.
I reach for the wine bottle and concentrate on refilling our glasses.
Once she knows about me, I�
�m sure her entire view of me will change. It’s fucked up, but that’s the way my life is, and for some reason I want Stella just the way she is now, thinking I’m a camera-shy run-of-the-mill tourist. But I have to be honest because there’s something she does to me that makes me want to be bare and open to her, without any bullshit. I have to start this with her knowing who I am.
“Can I trust you?” I ask. What a stupid question. Like somebody will admit to being untrustworthy. But I get the feeling that with Stella, her word is good. If she says I can trust her, then I’m buying it.
“That depends on what you’re planning to tell me. If you’re going to say you’re on the run, that you’ve committed twelve murders in ten different states, then I’m going to have to call someone. Basically, if it’s illegal and you’re in hiding, talk to a priest if you want your secrets kept. Anything else, I’m safe. If there’s something you need to get off your chest, then I’ll listen.”
My heart goes double-time. She’s the first person I’ve had contact with in nearly two weeks, and that solitude has enhanced everything I feel. It’s like somebody jacked up the volume on my emotions so that everything’s sharper, louder, brighter, deeper. I focus on the massive gnarled tree across the yard that hosts a lot of the strange birdlife around here. “My last name’s Creed.” I hold my breath, waiting for her reaction.
“Reuben Creed. Cool name. Why are you keeping it a secret?”
She’s got to be shitting me. I’m trying to get a read on her face, but nothing shows.
“How old are you…twenty-two, twenty-four?” I ask.
“Twenty-four.”
Smack bang in the middle of my demographic. I’m currently number one, three, and seven on the New Zealand charts, and roughly the same mix of figures on charts worldwide. “You’ve never heard of Reuben Creed?” I’m not being arrogant, but, holy hell, grandmothers know who I am.
Stella screws up her pert little nose like she’s really trying to place me. “I don’t get to the movies much. I know I should, but for the last year I’ve been working my butt off. Basically, I shoot all day, make prints all night, sleep when I need to.” She shrugs. “Sorry.”
“I’m not in the movies.”
She throws her head back and laughs. The sound rolls around the room. “You should be, you’re gorgeous. All you’d have to do is stand there and scowl, or smile, or cock an eyebrow, and the women would be all over it. Wait…are you a model?”
“I’m flattered you like the way I look, but that’s luck rather than talent.”
“So, there’s a talent. Let me see.” She straightens her knife and fork on the plate, then gives me a grin. “Sportsperson…football.” She calls it out like she’s in a class of kids competing to answer first.
“No.”
“Are you that American politician who can’t stop sending dick picks to people?”
I snort. “No.”
“How many guesses do I have?”
“Eight more, and you have to hand me your phone. I won’t have you faking a bathroom trip and doing some kind of Google-fu.” I’m surprised when she reaches into her pocket and passes over her phone. I’m more surprised about how calm I feel now that the big reveal has turned into a game.
“Astronaut. Americans are obsessed with conquering space,” she says.
“Seven.”
“Do you hold the world record for hot-dog eating? That’s a pretty big deal on your side of the world.”
“You’re making grossly sweeping generalisations about the citizens of the USA. You have six more guesses. Choose wisely.”
“Spy, reality TV star…I know, America’s Hottest Bachelor, or whatever they call that show. Lion tamer. World poker champion. Stripper. I give up, tell me.”
She’s got me laughing, pulled me right out of my darkness, away from the anxiety I’ve developed about anyone knowing who I am. Still…baby steps. I’ll tell Stella because she either genuinely has never heard of me, or she’s a great little actress.
“I sing,” I tell her.
“Right. So, probably not just in the shower, huh?”
“No. A slightly bigger audience than that.” I can feel her studying me. I hoped sharing with her would be somehow cathartic. Some sort of proof that I was ready to step back into my insane world, but I don’t feel any different.
“And you’re hiding here, on Ahunui, because you need a break.”
I nod. “I don’t know who I am anymore. I’ve just had massive success with my third album. I’ve completed a world tour. I was exhausted, and everyone wanted a piece of me, but I feel as though there’s nothing left I want to give.”
“For what it’s worth, I hope you find what you need here.” Her voice is gentle. “I’m sorry I’ve pushed myself onto you. I can leave you be. I know how important solitude is when you need it. I need it when I work, in order to find the true sense in the image I’m trying to create. That sounds a bit nuts. Others just frame a shot and go for it. For me, it has to touch something inside, and I can’t find that with distractions. Ahunui grounds me in that way. Pulls my spirit back to the earth and helps me connect with something I can’t even explain. But it’s essential to my wellbeing.”
“I don’t know what I expect from this place. All I know is that in LA I’d become a prisoner in my house, and even then, fans found ways to get in. I couldn’t trust anyone. Slip the cleaner a Benny and she’d let somebody else have her job for a day. One woman she traded places with sold my underwear on eBay. When I bitched to my manager, she hired me security staff, so then I had two gorillas following me everywhere, checking under my bed and behind the bathroom door before I entered a room because, yes, I went to bed one night, only to have a naked woman pop out of my closet.”
Stella laughs. “What, like a jack-in-the-box? That’s so tacky. If it were me, I’d have been waiting there, sprawled over your bed, dressed in sexy lingerie because the wrapping’s important when you’re giving a gift. I mean, that’s why you have wrapping, right? Build up the anticipation, and, oh, boy, the reward…” She flings her hands to her face. “Not that I’d do something like that…I cannot even imagine.”
“I can. I like where you’re going with this. Keep talking.” The way I feel about Stella is something I’ve never experienced before. Fame comes with the usual trappings of sex on tap from any flavour, colour, nationality of woman you desire. But Stella isn’t anything like the women I usually come across. She’s natural. Nothing’s contrived. It’s all on display, and totally honest.
“Tell me about the bathroom. Did you really find someone in there, too?” she asks.
“A hotel in Vegas. There was this couple, newlyweds, wanting to spice up their honeymoon. God knows how they’d got into my suite, but they did.”
“Um, I think I’ve led a more sheltered life than you. It must be annoying.”
“It is. It’s intrusive and it fucking pisses me off. Even stepping out of the house takes planning. Sunglasses, cap pulled low, focus down. Everyone wants a piece of you, and the paps think you owe them a living. And then, you’re finally pushed.”
Stella cocks her head. “And you landed at Ahunui, so that’s not a bad thing.”
“Ahunui blows my mind. If I’d known it came with the world’s cutest and most capable caretaker, I’d have been here sooner.”
Stella looks uncomfortable. Fuck. I should have said I was an accountant or something. She stacks the plates and pushes back from the table to stand. I grab her wrist, but she shakes her head.
“I’m not some groupie, okay?”
“Stella, hey, I know that. You’re nothing like them.”
“I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
She tugs her arm free, and I follow her with the rest of the dishes to the kitchen. I nudge her away from the dishwasher, and she nudges me back.
“I doubt you do dishes in LA.”
“You’d be surprised. I do things that are normal, and I try to keep it real, you know?” I take hold of her hips
and lift her onto the counter. I don’t know what I’m doing beyond the fact that inside me is this driving need to have her, keep her and shield her from my crazy world. I want the storm to rage outside forever so that we never have to leave this house. I’ve still got hold of her, and she places her hands on my forearms. She doesn’t push me away. Rather, she completes this connection.
“Is this real?” she whispers.
“Completely real,” I assure her. There’s this shyness about her I’d never have guessed.
“I’m not very experienced,” she confesses, her eyes searching mine.
“That’s good. That makes me happy.”
“What if I’m no good?”
The fact that she even thinks something like that pisses me off. “Let me show you how good you are.”
“I’m nervous.”
“I know, and I also know the best cure for nerves. Trust me, I’m going to make you feel better.” I take a moment to kiss her because her mouth is the sweetest I’ve ever tasted. “In fact, I’ll make you feel better than better, because that’s a thing, too, you know.”
She smiles, pulls in a deep breath and presses her lips together.
I hold the sides of her face, keeping the connection with her eyes. Until this moment, the Stella I’ve seen brims with confidence, and now she’s nervous about sex. I’m so conflicted about that thought, it doesn’t even make sense. I fucking love the idea that she’s not very experienced, as she puts it.
I pick her up. I’m taking her to bed because much and all as I’d love to fuck her senseless in the kitchen, I want our first time together to be as comfortable as possible. That big soft bed is just the place.
I like that she doesn’t struggle or complain when I carry her through to the bedroom instead of letting her walk. I want her to give herself over to me completely, because I’ll keep her safe and blow her mind.
The tide is high now, and outside, the surf crashes on the beach, the noise of that and the wind are a perfect backdrop for us. I flick the switch for the lamp, and the room fills with a soft honey glow. Then I sit Stella on the bed.
In front of me is the gift I’ve never had. I love that she’s not diving for my belt—that can come another day, because right now I want to do something I don’t really recall having done before. I want to make love. Long, slow, hot, dirty love. I don’t want Stella to be an expert. I want this to be new for both of us.
