by Sacchi Green
Hayley shook free of the reverie, furious that she was still so much under Brauer’s spell. She fumbled for her phone, punched M.J.’s number, and said, “I’ll meet Pim. Briefly. But somewhere public—a park or cafe, maybe.”
“Name it. Pim will be there.”
As Hayley approached in Danatella’s Ristorante, Pim made the kind of snap assessment every artist relied on. Hayley looked pale, tired, guarded. And there’s a poker face if I ever saw one. A beautiful, beautiful poker face . . . Pim stood, but had the sense not to reach out.
“Good evening,” Hayley said, that formal greeting almost inaudible in the busy restaurant.
She sat, smoothed a napkin over her lap, nodded across the table. “You first.”
At the sound of frost in her voice, so many thoughts crowded Pim’s brain that she was tongue-tied. For heaven’s sake, you fool, begin with the obvious!
“Breaking up with you was the dumbest thing I ever did, Hayley. I was a self-centered jerk, and I’m sorrier than I can say. I tried to persuade myself I was protecting you from pain when I was actually fleeing commitment.”
“Duh. So what’s changed?”
That caustic edge cut deep, told Pim how badly she’d damaged Hayley. She leaned marginally closer. “I got an up-close-and-personal look at life without you . . . and I didn’t like it.”
“Are you suggesting we pick up where we left off?”
“I’m hoping we can—hoping you’ll at least try.”
A clueless server materialized, notepad in hand. “Drinks, ladies?”
“Separate checks, please,” Hayley said briskly. “I’ll have unsweetened iced tea.”
“Make that two.” And disappear.
Ramrod straight on the banquette, Hayley hurled a challenge. “If you couldn’t handle being with me when everything was sunshine and roses, Pim, how will you cope with this shitstorm?”
“Ironically, it’s the perfect opportunity to prove how desperately I want a relationship with you.”
Pim actually saw it happen—the little crack that opened in Hayley’s defenses. “And what would that look like?”
“Whatever you wanted.”
Hayley reached for the oversized vinyl folder, opened it, scanned every page as Pim squirmed. “I think I’ll have the Caesar salad. And chicken Theresa. And dessert—definitely dessert.”
“Dare I hope you’re speaking of me?”
“Cool your jets, Dr. Brauer—I haven’t decided whether you’re even on the menu.”
Their server returned, so Pim jabbed randomly at the list of entrees, only wanting him gone. The instant he was out of earshot, she said, “Okay. Since I may not have a chance to talk without an audience, here goes: I love you, Hayley. Truly, madly, deeply, as they say. But I’ve been trying to bury those feelings.”
“Because?”
“Because I was afraid. Mostly of my own weaknesses. I’m used to succeeding at anything I attempt, but I’ve always ducked one of life’s biggest tests—”
“Let me guess: Monogamy. Just one woman in your bed— me—for the rest of your life.”
“Until I shoved you away, I didn’t think I could handle that. Honestly, Hayley, I meant to be kind. I’d rather die than hurt you.”
“And yet you did.”
“And yet I did.”
“Plus you let me think I’d hurt you somehow.”
“The thought never crossed my mind, Hale! You were nothing but wonderful, the most wonderful woman I know!” And Pim had known plenty.
Hayley cleared her throat. “Have you been with anyone since you bailed on me?”
“I meant to—that was part of my plan for moving forward.”
“And?”
Pim groaned. “I dropped not one, but two, delightful women, quite unceremoniously. Each on our first dates. Because they just weren’t you. I think I left skid marks as I bolted from Butches and Babes.”
Hayley laughed at the visual, but her smile quickly faded. “And while we were together?”
“Are you asking if I cheated on you? God, no! I never even looked at another woman!”
Hayley leaned forward, well within reach. “Listen up, Pim. I love you, too. Since forever.”
Pim gulped tea to keep from kissing those soft, soft lips. “Same here, sweetheart.”
“BS, dear doctor.” Said with a razor’s edge.
Pim found her own hint of metal. “I’ve loved you since first sighting, Hayley Walton. Come home with me tonight—I need time to talk with you. No messing around, I promise.”
“Are you capable of that?”
“On my honor—what little I have. I just want to hold you, to make amends.”
“I won’t pretend I’m not interested. But I’m in a really ugly jam. Don’t sign on unless it’s for the long haul. I’m not sure I’d survive losing you a second time.”
Pim thrust her chair back, then shot to her feet. “Would Oreos do for dessert? I have a fresh supply. And I want every detail about this absurd abuse charge.”
Twenty minutes later, Hayley was curled on Pim’s couch, detailing the horror that had suddenly engulfed her life. “It began with a complete nonevent. I took a kid named Felicia Lowry off the playground to remove a splinter from her finger, and never thought about it afterward. But Licia’s a whiny, melodramatic kid who doesn’t make first aid easy. Apparently someone heard her howling over the security system, heard me talking to her, and called the Abuse Hotline.
“There’s no video?”
“Sadly, we weren’t in range of a camera—which looks like something I planned, vile creature that I am. The investigator played the audio for me. And though I’m only taking off Licia’s mitten, then coaxing her through the extraction, I sound guilty as hell.” Tears glittered in Hayley’s eyes. “I feel just awful.”
“But why? You didn’t do anything wrong!”
“You lose confidence pretty fast when even your boss mistrusts you!”
“Did Drew say that?”
“Not exactly. But she wouldn’t say she believed me. And she won’t allow me near the children.”
Pim considered Drew’s awkward position. “She’s in a tight spot, baby.”
“Cold comfort!”
“I’d like to give you some warm comfort—will you let me take you to bed?”
Hayley winced. “I don’t think I have the energy tonight.”
“I’ll just play soft music and massage you till you fall asleep. Things may look brighter in the morning. Because no one could possibly believe you’d harm a child.”
“Come check out that picket line. Plenty of people believe it!”
Pim was breaking eggs into a skillet the next morning when she asked what Hayley’s lawyer thought about the investigation.
“Lawyer?”
Pim whirled away from the stove. “Tell me you’ve seen an attorney!”
“Like I could afford that!”
“Well, I can. And I think you need to.”
Hayley slipped the spatula from Pim’s grasp, flipped an egg. “I like mine over easy, remember?”
Pim snatched the spatula again, waved it fiercely. “I haven’t forgotten anything about you, Hayley Walton! Not one damned thing! God knows I tried! I remember the exact shade of your eyes in sunlight, and how they change at dusk. I remember what brand of bike shoes you wear. I remember how your face glows when you hold a baby—and how you hold preschoolers accountable when they act up. I remember the precise angle of your knees when they’re wrapped around my neck, remember how your tongue feels on my bare flesh, remember that you go silent just before you come. And I certainly haven’t forgotten how you like your bloody breakfast!”
Pim slid eggs from the pan, then jammed a plate into Hayley’s hand. “Now stop stonewalling: don’t you think you should consult a lawyer?”
Hayley sank onto a chair and stabbed her fork at an egg. “I can survive the first part of the investigation without legal advice. But if the authorities substantiate the accusation, that’
s a whole new ball game. We’ll talk attorneys then. Hopefully it won’t come to that.” She rose abruptly to scrape her egg and untouched toast into the trash bin. “Sorry. I just can’t eat.”
“You’ll be exonerated,” Pim insisted. “Nothing else is possible.”
Reentering a relationship with Pim was almost as tough as being dumped by her. Hayley doubted every declaration of affection or commitment. And the first time she tried making love to Pim, Hayley panicked. While smoothing a satin bra strap down Pim’s shoulder, she heard her recorded voice saying, “Let me just slip this off so I can take a good look at you.”
And when Hayley reached for Pim’s breast, that same disembodied voice murmured, “I won’t touch you till you’re ready.” Pushing past the audio flashbacks, past Felicia’s phantom wails, she tried to revel in the moment. But as Hayley slid one finger deep inside Pim, she saw that jagged splinter again, remembered asking, “Should I leave it in or take it out?”, heard how perverted the question sounded. Then the whole nightmare came crashing down on her, all the humiliation of being suspect, despised, exiled. Hayley flung herself away from Pim. “I can’t, sweetheart! I! Just! Can’t!”
The second time she tried touching Pim, the same thing happened. And the third.
Now that Pim had reclaimed her ideal woman, she damn well wouldn’t let some phony accusation destroy their love life. But Hayley was traumatized, her defenses nearly impregnable. Pim thought about the problem for days before concocting a plan. Maybe it was brilliant. Maybe it was crazy. Just then, though, it was all she had. She reserved a suite for the weekend at an exclusive hotel—an absurdly expensive getaway, since the InterContinental was in walking distance of her condo on the Plaza. But when she drew the drapes that Friday night, there wouldn’t be a single reference point for Hayley, nothing familiar. The past would be erased, the future a blank slate. Just the way Pim wanted it.
Hayley agreed to Pim’s weekend retreat without asking questions. When they arrived at the hotel, she saw, but didn’t register, the magnificent fountain at the entrance. In the lobby, she scarcely glanced at the crystal chandeliers and gleaming marble floors. And she was unmoved by the excellent artwork, the inviting lounge. As the elevator rose, she tried to smile for Pim, who clearly wanted the weekend to be special. But Hayley’s attention was fragmented, focused as much on dread as tremulous hope. Pim’s plan—whatever it was—might already be doomed.
Upstairs, the accommodations couldn’t have been less like the places Hayley spent her ordinary days—the rundown preschool, her own shabby-chic apartment. Everything in the suite was fresh and elegant. Pim had ordered flowers, candles, and a superlative bottle of wine. Halfway through a second glass of merlot, Hayley felt her shoulders relax.
Pim must have noticed. She removed the goblet from Hayley’s hand, saying, “In a minute, I’m going to make love to you, baby. But tonight there are rules. Unbreakable rules.”
Her commanding tone, the suggestive sparkle in her midnight eyes, sent a thrill of anticipation through Hayley. “Rules?”
“Rules. I can touch you. I can touch myself. You can touch yourself—and I might touch you at the same time. But you’re not allowed to touch me. At all. Anywhere. Do you understand?” “Yes . . . no!” Even slightly buzzy from that wine, Hayley could have compiled an entire catalogue of emotions: Surprise. Confusion. Curiosity. Excitement. Fear. Even shyness—because Pim had never seen Hayley touch herself. In fact, nobody had seen her touch herself.
Pim cradled Hayley’s face between her palms. Kissed her thoroughly. Deflected her questing hands. “Against the rules, baby. Sit there. Watch me.”
Hayley fell onto the love seat, heart racing.
Pim began to speak, her voice conversational. “I started masturbating when I was ten. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing.” One hand was circling the silk shirt over a breast, the other caressing the fabric between her legs. “I liked feeling myself through my clothes, but soon that wasn’t enough.”
Pim stepped out of her slacks, unbuttoned that shirt. Then both palms were moving beneath her bra and she was moaning a little. She slipped one hand inside her thong, but only for a second. When she withdrew it, her fingers glistened. “Before long, I learned how to make use of this,” she said, tracing a slippery thumb across Hayley’s lips, sliding it into her mouth. “You can touch yourself, darling. As if you were alone . . . ”
Then Pim tossed her thong to the floor and lifted one foot to the desk chair. Hayley could see a dense wedge of ebony hair bisected by pink, pink folds. The pathway into Pim. Who was spreading herself wide.
Warmed by more than merlot, Hayley shrugged off her shirt and pants, then collapsed on the love seat again. Where she shoved her bikinis down and pushed her bra up until her breasts jutted outward. Toying with her nipples, she watched Pim. Watched Pim watch her. Watched Pim match movement for movement. Groaning, Hayley parted her own flesh, begged to be touched.
“No—I want to watch you. Want to feel myself, as if I were feeling you. Want to see what you look like when you make yourself come.”
Soon Hayley’s fingers were almost a blur, and Pim was crying, “Do it, darling, do it for yourself. Show me what feels good, what feels best.” And all the while, she was flicking her own nipples with her nails, stroking her clit till her knees gave out, then clinging to the back of that chair as she came and came and came.
Then Pim was crawling across the carpet, eyes on Hayley, pulling those bikinis all the way off. Blowing gently on every sensitive part. Lapping relentlessly. And when at last Hayley was done, Pim told her she wasn’t. “Because I know you. Because I’ve seen what you’re capable of. Because I know how much you love this.”
She drew Hayley to the floor and rolled her facedown. Unhooked her bra. Tucked Hayley’s hand into that deep, wet rift. Lay atop her. Reached beneath to find those urgent nipples. “This time do it harder,” Pim demanded. “I want to feel you come under me. Want you to rock my world while I play with your tits, while I come against your thigh.”
Soon Hayley was bucking under Pim, crying, “Fuck me! Please fuck me!”
But Pim said, “You do it, baby. Show me how it’s done, make me come, make me come now!” So Hayley fingered her clit as she lifted her ass again and again, thudding against the carpet. When she screamed in release, Pim let her rest awhile. Just a little while.
Until she turned Hayley on her back. Tucked one pillow gently under her head and two beneath her rear. “The first time I masturbated with another girl, we did it this way. She was propped on pillows, like you are, and I said, ‘Open yourself for me.’ And she did. But slowly. In stages. First she licked her fingers till they were dripping, then she frosted herself with that moisture. Yes, Hayley, exactly—that’s right! Next she told me to stroke my breasts while she showed me her clit. ‘Touch that,’ she told me. ‘Now find yours and work it between your fingers.’ Then she said, ‘Sometimes I put something inside myself, but I only want you to use your hand. One hand, while the other plays with your nipples.’ I did all that— just the way you are now, but finally I had to fall on her, my lips on her lower ones, like this.”
Maddened, Hayley writhed and arched, but Pim drew back, spoke softly. “She held my face hard to her there, till she had no choice but to come. When I came seconds after, my own fingers were so far inside me I thought I’d found the gates of paradise. Yes! Exactly the way you’re doing, just like that! Don’t stop, love—you’re almost there! But no, don’t touch me. It’s not allowed tonight.
“Watch, I’ll do it myself, Hayley. For you. Everything you’ve wondered about, everything you’d like to know, all the questions answered because I’m showing you exactly what I like, exactly what works, just how I fuck myself when no one’s watching, when there’s no hurry, when no one else matters. And sometimes I like to take it slow, just barely touch my nipples, but, no, darling—put your hand down—the rules. Better yet, put it on you, light as a shadow, light as my breath, breath you can barely feel, but
cooling, so you have chills now and your nipples are so hard. They could only be harder if I pinch them like this. But biting’s better, Hayley, sharper, you feel it straight in your crotch, don’t you, and I’m going to put my mouth there, right where you’re throbbing . . .
“But you can’t touch me, which is too bad, because I’m throbbing too, and I’m going to have to touch myself for a few minutes. You can watch, but here’s your hand on you again, and we can do it together. And when I come, you’ll say I’m beautiful, and I’ll say you are, too, because I see you’re coming now, a tsunami racing up your thighs and slamming into your clit, over and over. And you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, Hayley Walton!
“And, yes, I want your mouth on me, your tongue inside and everywhere. Want you to slip a finger into my ass, but you can’t do that tonight, because tonight there are rules. And rules are rules. But I can come just looking at you coming, sweetheart, so that’s all right. And we’re both so tired, but we feel so good, don’t we, just pulsing with the thrill of it all? And sometime maybe the rules will change, but not tonight, so you’ll just have to be satisfied with your own hands right now, just have to get off on the sight of my wet, wet fingers pumping in and out of me, and circling my clit. And maybe tomorrow the rules will be different, but right now, I want you to pinch your nipples hard, harder, yes, because I see how much that excites you.
“And when you’ve made yourself so hungry for my touch that you think you’ll go mad without it, then I’m going to take over, and my mouth will be a soft comfort on your aching breasts and you’ll rock against me, but I can’t let you touch me, because you have to follow the rules. Oh, yes! That’s it, that’s it, come just like that, just like that, yes! Until the rules change—”
“Pim!”
“Baby?”
“It’s after midnight.”
“Tomorrow already?”
“Tomorrow, Pim! Another day. There are new rules now! And those rules say I can touch you, but you can’t touch me.”
