Hot Mess (26 page)

Rachel couldn't respond in kind, all she could do was gasp and moan and experience this intense burning inside. Sam thrusting in and out of her, while his tongue pumped in kind, as well as his hands on her body, caused her to come apart at the seams. As she climbed higher, she could hear his breathing coming in raspy gasps, and his movements increased. When she could take no more, she moaned loudly, and gripped his shoulders, letting the sensations of falling through the flames take over. He pulled out, just as she began to sink from her shuddering climax.

"What's wrong?" She was breathless, alarmed.

He grinned at her. "Absolutely nothing. I'm just not willing to let this end, just yet." He rested the tip of his penis on top of her belly, and he rubbed her clitoris with his thumb, softly. At his touch, she moaned, the intensity of the feeling on her sensitive spots almost overwhelmed her. Taking a deep breath and sinking himself in one more time, Sam whispered to her, "You feel too good, Rachel. I don't want to ever stop."

Groaning, he began to move again, enticingly slow. She lifted her hips to meet his thrusts, and Sam's pace increased. Rachel could feel herself climb again, this time even more intense than the first, as Sam's finger kept rubbing her, while he pumped himself in and out of her, with measured, deliberate strokes. "So good…" He mumbled, eyes closed in concentration, as his fingers kept circling her.

One of his hands reached up and tweaked a nipple, and Rachel succumbed again to the fiery phenomenon that was happening inside her. It was an exquisite pain that couldn't ever end, or she would die.

"That's it, Rachel,
feel
it." He said to her, between panting breathes. "
Feel
this."

His thrusts increased their pace, and before she realized what was happening, he was pounding into her, his body slapping against hers in an erotic rhythm, matched only by their quivering breaths. Rachel cried out as another orgasm rippled through her trembling body, and she lost all control. Her legs came up, and wrapped around Sam's waist, squeezing together as he froze above her, his face a mask of torturous delight, before sinking down on top of her trembling body.

His ragged breathing in her ear was hot and moist, and sent shivers to her toes. "Jesus, God, Rachel. Fuck." He mumbled, rolling to his side and pulling her tightly against his body. "That was utterly amazing." He dipped his head, and kissed the base of her neck, and Rachel was so warm in his embrace, feeling his body against hers from his head to their toes, that she was asleep in minutes.

From Remainingrachel.com:

So, here's the deal…I've been saying for years that I'm happy with the relationships I've got. I have a healthy daughter, a bestie that can handle a sporadic girls' night out, and a brother that occasionally speaks to me. I was fine, I thought.

That's what I get for thinking.

Several months ago, I got a new neighbor. A decidedly smoking hot fireman type new neighbor. He's nice, our daughters are friends, and there's some serious chemistry going on.

A lot of chemistry.

So I told him. And he freaked. Granted, I didn't tell him under the ideal circumstances: No literature, no Q and A session, no rationality, no calmness. So it ended whatever relationship we might have had.

But he's still a neighbor.

Our daughters are still friends.

There's still chemistry.

And I see him almost every day. A constant reminder of what could have been. Months later, after sinking into the downward spiral of depression, he tells me he's sorry, and wants to try again. He says he can live with it, and he's very convincing.

So now there's hope. Hope to grasp, while I claw my way out of the hole I've been in. Hope that there is actually somebody out there that I can share my life with. Hope he will keep his word, and work through issues that arise from being in a serodiscordant relationship with me.

There is hope for me.

Rachel awakened gradually, feeling relaxed and fulfilled after a heavy sleep, loins tingling in fulfillment. However, when her eyes opened to an empty bed, thoughts of rest and contentment fled. After last night, and all the sweet words, she had fallen asleep, fully expecting to waken in Sam's strong, warm arms.

But he was gone.

Well, she couldn't exactly expect him to leave the girls alone all night, she supposed. But what if he'd had second thoughts? She couldn't keep the thought from niggling its way to the forefront of her consciousness.

Rachel should have realized this would happen. Why did she actually believe that she could find happiness in an intimate relationship with another human being? She had taken her own advice all these years and tried to find happiness with herself, had tried to be content and grateful with what she had. After all, she had a healthy daughter, and she was relatively healthy herself. Why couldn't that be enough?

Throwing her covers off, she dressed hurriedly and walked across the street to collect her daughter.

Sam saw her coming and braced himself for a confrontation. Leaving her this morning had been one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Seeing her sleeping so peacefully, her soft, petite body laying there, barely covered in a sheet had awakened some primal force within him, and he'd wanted nothing more than to take her again, and again.

He could admit to himself, he was scared of what he'd done. Hell, he was terrified. He'd just willingly had sex with someone with a potentially lethal STD. He knew the risk was low. He knew he'd been safe.

But he couldn't deny the fear.

So, instead of staying there and putting his thoughts into actions like a man, he'd run.

And here she was, coming to him, reducing the space he'd frantically put between them this morning.

Opening the door before she could start banging on it, he stepped onto the porch and into the blazing fury her eyes pierced him with. Guilt tore at his insides. He'd put that look in her eyes. Again.

"The girls are still asleep, I have no idea when the finally went to bed." He tried to keep his voice low, and calm.

"Is that why you came back, Sam? Are the
girls
the reason you left?"

He couldn't meet her eyes. Looking at the ground, he knew in his heart that she knew he'd run. "Yes and No." He looked back up at her to see the hurt in her eyes, and the guilt he'd been feeling cranked itself up a notch. He just had one chance to fix this. "I want to show you something." He held out his hand to her, hoping she would take it.

Rachel was silent a minute, and he could hear her breath snag, as if she was fighting tears. He was so in tune with her, he could tell just how angry she was. And he couldn't blame her.

He could see the reluctance as she slowly reached out her hand to grasp his. He pulled her inside the house and to Amanda's room. Quietly, he opened the door and ushered Rachel inside. Wrapping his arms around her, they watched the two girls sleeping, arms wrapped around each other, traces of blue eyeshadow on their faces, lost in the peace of sleep.

"I was running scared, and when I came home, I found this." He pulled her back into the hallway and shut the door. "Initially I was scared for Amanda. I didn't want her to get attached and then go through the loss again. But the truth is, she's already attached to your family. I'm attached to your family." He grasped her face in his hands, gently, forcing her to look at him. "I'll be honest with you. I was scared when I woke up in the night, but I'm not now. Here in the light of day, I can see what we have." He clasped her hand in his, willing her to understand. "So, I made pancakes for you." He pulled her to the kitchen, and she followed reluctantly. He had to tug to get her there.

Setting her on the counter top, he hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of her jeans. "Talk to me, please."

She wouldn't look at him, and he saw that as a bad sign. "Rachel?" When she finally looked up, it was a look filled with tears that made him pissed at himself.

"Christ, Rachel. I'm so sorry." He pulled her head to his chest and encircled her with his arms. "I thought we were in this tell-all part of our relationship. You tell me about the room full of guys you fucked in college, I tell you I got scared after sleeping with you." He was trying for levity, but it fell flat.

She pushed away from him. "I can't do it Sam, if you're not all in. If you keep turning away from me, I'll fall apart. I can't keep doing this."

"I
am
all in, Rachel. That's what I'm trying to say. Did you see the girls in there? Amanda told me a couple of weeks ago that she wants you for a mother and Sophie for a sister. Doesn't that mean anything?" He was desperate now, pleading. Sam didn't like this side of himself.

"I need for
you
to need me, Sam."

"I do…"

She hopped off the counter top and started to walk away, Sam's heart in her hands. Stopping before she left the kitchen, she said, "You know the story of Pandora's Box, right? She opens it up and releases all the demons into the world, and the only thing left in the box is hope. Hope, Sam. That's it. That's all that's left after I released my demons, Sam. Hope. And you destroyed it this morning. Now, I have nothing, except my daughter. I need Sophie. Now."

"I just needed to think, Rachel. Nothing's changed." Sam stated weakly. Hearing the ineffectiveness of his words, he watched as Rachel went to retrieve her daughter. He couldn't keep her from Sophia, no matter his intentions.

He watched impotently, as Rachel marched her sleepy daughter back across the street, and heard the door slam echo in his ears. And his heart.

Monday, after dropping Sophia off at school, Rachel drove across town to an older neighborhood. She had called the
Serendipity Herald
, pretending to be following up on a story that Crystal had written, and found out that she wasn't at work until ten. So she had plenty of time to "visit" with her. Catching her at home was not ideal, but Rachel didn't have much choice. The woman wasn't likely to willingly meet her anywhere else.

Crystal Simmons lived in a huge old house that had been split up into rental units. There were a lot of these in town, some maintained really well, others not. Rachel was surprised to find that Crystal lived in one of the latter types.

Taking a deep breath, Rachel knocked on the door, hearing a TV blaring just beyond it. An elderly man, dressed in shorts and a stained undershirt answered the door. He obviously hadn't done much this morning, as his silver hair was sticking up wildly, and he hadn't shaved his face. She regretted her early visit, until he opened his mouth.

"You're that lady that Crissy wrote about, arent' you? The one with AIDS?" His tone suggested that he knew good and well who she was,and didn't care much for her gracing his doorstep.

She nodded. "Yes, Sir. Is Crystal home? I would like to speak with her, please."

"You're not here to cause any trouble are you?"

"No, sir. I just wanted to visit. I won't even come inside, unless she invites me, sir."

She watched, as his gaze perused her before he grunted and slammed the door in her face. Rachel shuffled her feet, unsure if the man was going to get "Crissy" or if he was just going to leave her standing here indefinitely. She was ready to knock again, when the door opened, and Crystal Simmons stood in the doorway.

Rachel had interrupted her getting ready for work, she could tell. The woman was dressed, but her face shined with creams, and her hair was wrapped in a towel.

"Hi, Rachel. Can I help you?" Crystal's voice was innocent, as if she had no idea why Rachel could possibly be standing in front of her house.

"I wanted to talk to you about the article." Crystal's eyebrows rose in a question, and Rachel plunged ahead. "First of all, why would you write it? It's not the least bit news-worthy and bordered on gossip. I wasn't aware that the
Serendipity Herald
was that type of a newspaper."

Crystal shrugged. "This is an incredibly small town, and I was just writing about what people wanted to read. I guess it was a slow news day that day."

"Why me? There are thousands of other people to gossip about, people that don't try to do good things for the world. Why would you skew what I told you and make me out to look like a bad person?" Rachel had wondered this since the reporter had started asking around about her. Had she done something to the woman personally?

Another shrug answered her question. "You were so vague about yourself at the Fireman's Ball, I knew there was a story there somewhere. And I was right. You are a story."

"But you didn't write my story. You wrote a bunch of libelous connotations. You didn't use the information that I gave you to write about. Instead, you used my work for the Human Services commission to infer that all I do is pass out condoms to teenagers! You wrote nothing about the people that I've helped. You didn't write about ways people can get involved. You didn't say anything to the people here that might also be suffering with HIV or AIDS. None of that!" She paused to take a breath, watching Crystal's smirk fade slightly. "How did you find me, anyway?"