Strapped Down (11 page)

“I’ve never really done a guy’s hair before. Rick always liked his hair scruffy and I assume girls first do that with their dad, and well, you know.”

“I trust you.”

“Okay…” I take a deep breath and make the part where I recall he had it previously. Then I pull out the hair lotion and scoop out a dollop.

“Wait.” He gently grasps my wrist. “Just a little less, unless you’re aiming to protect my skull from shrapnel,” and he scoops a little bit of the cream out of my hand and puts it back into the jar.

I distribute the product by rubbing my palms together and deliberately raking it through his hair. He closes his eyes so I take that as a cue to massage his scalp. His body language softens. I don’t ruin the moment by asking, but I doubt he ever gets massaged due to his condition; these small, seemingly mundane moments between us must be a great luxury to him.

After a few minutes, I notice it’s close to five. “Mr. Sexypants. You’re going to fall asleep.”

He smiles and slowly rouses himself out of his relaxed state. “Do me a favor and never call me that outside of this bathroom.”

“I think I’ll call H.I. and ask for you by that moniker.”

“I have the phone system set to self-destruct if you do. Come on.” He stands up, taking my hand, and looks in the mirror. “What’s this thing?” He refers to a bit of a lick I styled in at the front.

“I thought I would modernize it.”

“Christ Shyla, I look like a massive tool.”

“I think it’s cute!” I pout.

“Only because we aren’t leaving the house.” And we head back out to the kitchen to await our guests.

Minutes, later the doorbell rings. Lizzy and Henry arrive together.

“What’s with the hair?” is the first thing Lizzy asks. Taylor gives me a look out of the corner of his eye.

We vote to eat in the outdoor dining area to take advantage of the cool breeze. Just before we are about to sit, my phone rings with a call from Kristin. I debate whether or not to pick it up and invite her, but both Kristin and Henry are important parts of our lives and I can’t keep them separated forever.

“Hello?”

“Hey!”

“Hey! How’s it going?”

“Okay. I just wanted to see what you were up to tonight.”

“Well, it’s perfect that you called. Taylor surprised me with a dinner party. We are just getting started, you want to come over? Chad is welcome.”

“He’s at a dudes-only poker game, but I can stop by. Who’s all there?”

“Taylor, me, Lizzy…and Henry.”

“Oh lord.”

“It’ll be cool.”

“I know, I might as well bite the bullet and get over the awkwardness.”

“So, you down?”

“Sure. I just need to finish up getting ready. I can be there in 30 minutes.”

We are well into the appetizers when the doorbell rings. I motion to rise out of my chair, but Taylor insists that he get the door. Moments later, Taylor and Kristin approach the table. Kristin looks especially vibrant
in
a one
-
armed black mini kaftan dress with sparkly flat sandals. Her normally puffy hair is slicked back into a low bun and her brown skin shimmers with some sort of gold highlighter and as always she has on lipstick; this time it’s coral. I wonder if she’s trying to impress Henry and it concerns me.

Everyone stands up to greet her. She met Lizzy at karaoke night, so they are well-acquainted. I do my best to observe the interaction between Henry and Kristin, to see if there is any awkwardness or even worse, some remaining attraction. Admittedly, Henry looks good today as well
.H
is dirty
-
blond hair
is
tied back into a loose ponytail
, and he’s wearing
a dark-gray vest over a striped button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of navy blue pants. Kristin sits next to Henry, and I can only assume this is to
pull off the bandaid
, so the speak. The conversation is lively, sometimes splitting off into mini conversations between just the ladies and the guys.

“Thanks! I love gel manicures. They last forever,” Lizzy states after Kristin compliments her nails.

“I dunno, I’m just too lazy and impatient to get my nails done. I just trim them and paint them at home,” I add.

“You have like no cuticles though, so you can get away with that.” Just as Kristin adds her two cents, Taylor’s hand slides on my thigh. I glance over at him, but he’s not looking at me, instead, he is staring directly at Henry, nodding at whatever he is saying. I take it as a gesture of affection, and I place my hand on top of his. Instead of leaving it there, however, he runs his hand up my thigh and in between my legs, causing me to sit erect.

Just wondering how I’m gonna get my hands in those pants under the dinner table…Omg he was serious!

I look at him again and try to give him the “what are you doing” eye and he turns to me and nonchalantly says: “What’s up Shy?”
You know damned well what’s up you kinky SOB.

“Nothing, just wondering what you guys were talking about,” I fib.

“Actually Henry we thinks we should go on a vacation together. I agree.”

“Where to?”

“That’s what we were discussing. Somewhere tropical perhaps?”

“That would be nice, but I can’t do anything longer than a few days.”

“We were thinking Labor Day weekend,” Henry chimes in.

“Ooooh, are you guys talking about going on a group vacation?” Lizzy asks.

Taylor begins to rub. I fidget in my seat, certain what is happening is written all over my face.

“You guys are so lucky. I am so broke,” Kristin mopes.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about much. Taylor and I were just talking about it. Taylor would fly us all in the jet and we’d get a house. You don’t need to worry about those expenses.”
Henry, leave my hot friend alone!

“I say let’s do it.” Taylor declares. Taylor is literally the boss of two (well three if you include sexcapades) people at the table. What he says, goes.

“Where?” Lizzy asks with an almost child-like enthusiasm.

Taylor artfully unbuttons my pants with one hand and slides his hand down. I take a nervous gulp. He glides his fingers underneath my lace panties and massages my labia. I can barely keep up with the conversation, my heart is pounding with excitement and fear that someone else at the table may notice. I purposely say out of the conversation since I am not sure my sentences will even be coherent at this point.

“I think we should go to Costa Rica,” Henry suggests.

“No!” I blurt out. Everyone at the table stops talking and looks at me. “I mean, I don’t want to go to South America just for a long weekend. Maybe we should stick to the Caribbean.” I can’t tell them the real reason I don’t want to be on that continent.

“It’s more like Central America, and with the direct flight on the jet, it won’t be a problem.”
Fucking Henry.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine Shy.” Taylor knows my real concern, so his opinion holds real weight.

“Well, okay then,” is all I can muster to the man who has his hand down my pants.

He resumes playing with me as Henry, Lizzy, and Kristin take over the conversation. His fingers tease, occasionally slipping inside of me. He knows exactly how much he needs to do, to tantalize me, to make me wet and nervous, without embarrassing myself.

Betty and a server arrive with plates of ahi tuna. Taylor slips his hand out of my pants as they walk towards the table. I breathe a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment. The tension was torturous, but so hot at the same time. I lose track of the conversation at the table as everyone goes back and forth about what town to stay in and other travel arrangements. I then I look over at Taylor who crosses one arm under his chest and rests the other elbow on it, raising the hand that was just in my pants and resting it over his mouth.

“Smells delicious.” Everyone thinks he’s talking about dinner, but from the look he gives me out of the corner of his eye, I know it’s something else.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Taylor stands up and walks back into the house. I wonder if I should follow, but don’t want to draw attention to us by leaving at the same time.

“Alright,” Henry says, “I’ll look into accommodations in the area.”

“This is so exciting!” Kristin exclaims.

“Where did Taylor go?” Lizzy asks after a couple of minutes.

“Not sure. Let me go check on him. You three keep enjoying the meal.”

“
Mmm hmm…
” Lizzy says suspiciously as she winks at me.

“Oh please!” I shake my head and roll my eyes at her, knowing full well she’s onto me.

Betty informs me that Taylor went down the hallway that holds his bedroom and office. I gingerly approach his bedroom which is locked. There is no response after tapping on the door. Next, I make my way to the office. As I near it, the light flowing into the hallway from the threshold signals he is likely in there. When I peak my head into the doorway, I find him, leaning back with his arms crossed on his desk as if awaiting my arrival.

“Hey,” I whisper.

“Hey.”

“What’s going on? I wasn’t sure if I should follow you, having guests and all.”

“It’s good you came. I just wanted some alone time with you. Come here.” I walk to him and he pulls me on top of him. “I was watching you talk tonight. I love to watch you laugh. Your smile is one of the few things that makes me feel…happy.” The unusually romantic tone of his compliment makes my cheeks burn red.

“Thank you.” He kisses me softly and I feel him harden. “You’ve been teasing me all night,” I say.

“I know and I didn’t lure you here to relieve you. That’s for later.”

“Oh.”

“I just wanted to be alone with you for a bit, in this quiet.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry for everything that has happened to you.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m fine, I’ll be fine. I am so happy I met you. You rock my world,” I say with a smile as I bury my head into his chest.

“You rock mine too,” he says under a grin. “Hey, look at me.” He tilts my chin up. “I want to say something to you because I think you deserve to hear it from me in a quiet moment. Not during sex, or in a time of pain or chaos, or out of desperation.” I nod, not breaking my gaze into his piercing luminous eyes. “Remember when I asked you what it was like to love someone?”

“Yes.”

“Remember what you said to me?”

“Yes…and…”

“Tell me,” Taylor insists.

“Well, I was just a little sad. Because I thought you might never be able to feel that way about me, because I have always felt that way about you. Even in the car when we first met, you took my breath away. I didn’t know it then, but I was falling for you right there.”

“I love you,” he says as he stares into my eyes; I fight not to look away. “You may not hear me say this much, and you might even question it because of the way I am, or the things I do, but when you do, think back to this moment and know that it will never change.”

I smile at him, wishing I could freeze time and be here with him in this still place forever. And I will do my best to never forget it, just as he asked.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand, “let’s go back out there before we have to deal with quickie jokes from Lizzy all night,” Taylor says.

CHAPTER NINE

It’s about midnight when we bid everyone goodnight, including Betty.

“That was so much fun,” I say to Taylor as we head into the bedroom. “Thank you for putting this together. The food was fantastic, by the way.”

“Yes, I’ve known Betty nearly all my life. She was the family chef and I always use her for events or dinners.”

“I wondered about that. I know how private you are…”

“Yeah, I trust her. The year I first moved into the house, when I wouldn’t speak, I used to sneak out of my bedroom at night and wander aimlessly around the house. One night, I walked into the kitchen and she was there. I thought I would be in big trouble, maybe even beaten because that’s all I knew. She looked at me and put her fingers over her lips to shush me, which in retrospect was strange because everyone knew I didn’t speak. But from that night on, whenever I would sneak out of my bedroom, I would find a chocolate chip cookie and a glass of milk waiting for me in the prep kitchen.”

“Oh my god, that is so sweet! Can I just tell you something?”

“Of course.”

“You are so blessed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you have been through terrible things, but it seems all along the way, there were people who cared enough to help you. From the lady who found you, to Betty’s cookies in the kitchen, to Lizzy and Henry —“

“And you?”

“If you say so…”

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror to take down my hair, and just as I begin to remove my earrings, Taylor comes up behind me.

“I guess I always focused on the people who did me wrong, and I thought I was damaged irreparably, but you make me feel…normal.”

“Thank you for being who you are despite the people who have hurt you.”

Taylor nods and exits the bathroom. Having a moment to think about how he teased me all night makes me hot again. I expected him to pounce me once everyone left, but he hasn’t. There was something about tonight, a tenderness about him that made me feel so full, so warm and secure in his presence. And strangely, because of that I feel the need to make this night complete by having the other side of Taylor: the full spectrum experience. I strip down to my emerald green lace demi bra and thong and slide open the door that connects the bathroom to the walk-in closet so Taylor won’t see me grab a pair of black platform strappy heels. I bring them back into the bathroom, shake my hair out to make it full and luscious and refresh my lipstick with a dark blood-red shade. I take a deep breath and slowly open the bathroom door to combat my shyness.

Taylor is shirtless and barefoot, but still in his jeans looking down at his phone when the sound of door opening catches his attention.

“Woah,” he says when he looks up. He throws his phone on the bed and slowly walks over to me taking me in with his eyes, studying my body. “You don’t look like a good girl at all right now. You were hiding this under your little conservative outfit tonight?”

I nod. “Taylor, don’t tease me anymore.” He stands over me, as I lean back on the door frame, resting his hand on it above my head so that his body shrouds mine.

“You’ve just made me way too fucking hard just to tease you. Feel it,” he says as he guides my hands over his jeans and I feel the length his his hardness resting against his thigh. “Do you want this?”

“You know I do.”

“Tell me.”

“I want it.”

“Beg me.”

“Please. Fuck me. Make me come.”

“More.”

“Please Taylor, just fuck me for fuck’s sake. Take me to the darkroom. Do whatever you want to me in there.” He thrusts his pelvis against mine, the force slamming my hips against the doorframe. He picks me up by my ass; I wrap my legs around his torso, my long brown hair engulfs his face, and he carries me into the darkroom.

“Anything I want?”

I nod, biting my lip in anticipation. He lets me down.

“Get on all fours.” I do it without hesitation on the lambskin rug. I want nothing more than to please him at this very moment. “Reach underneath and play with yourself. Suck on your fingers first, make them wet.” I follow his instructions. He walks around so that he is facing my backside and he can watch me play with myself. “How does that feel baby?”

“It’s good, but not as good as you.”

“You’re gonna have to wait for that.”

I’m so charged I have to slow down in order not to come; I want to come with him tonight. He goes into one of his drawers and pulls something out. “What I really want is to fuck you in the ass, but you wouldn’t be able to handle that.”

“Do whatever you want.”

“Shhh…trust me, you want to ease into that. But I am going to play with your ass.” My stomach knots up. I am officially ass virgin. Well sort of. Rick clumsily tried it once and before he was even an eighth of the way in it hurt so much, I made him stop.

He pulls my thong to the side. “Fuck, even your asshole is cute,” he says before he glides his tongue over it. “I’m going to put these inside of you, nice and slowly. I need you to relax, okay? Take deep breaths.” He gently caresses my back as I feel the pressure of the slickly lubed tiny beads sliding inside of me. I try to contain my moans, but am unable to. The feeling is foreign and tight. “How does it feel?” he asks calmly.

“There’s a lot of pressure.”

“I know. Your little ass is really tight. Just relax.” I take a few more deep breathes and the pressure subsides. “Your little moans are making it hard for me to hold out on fucking you. Stand up.” I do so gingerly and he slides my bra off. I take him in as he stands in front of me, his erection begging for me to free it from his jeans. “Those heels, fuck they make your legs and ass look even more amazing.” He walks up to me and squats down, kissing me in between my legs over my lace panties. “Oh, your clit,” he says as he rubs it with his thumb, “you are really horny, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

He stands up and takes the very tips of his tongue to one of my nipples. “I love your breasts. Do you want me to take out my cock?”

“Fuck me with it already!”

“Woah…now wait a minute. I decide when you get fucked,” he says with the kind of smirk that tells me he liked my sass. Taylor pulls my thong down to the floor, so that I am naked besides my heels. He guides me by my hand to a spot in front on a huge mirror, likely 8x8 feet. He makes me face it as I stand behind him. “Do you see what I see? Do you understand why I want to fuck you all the time?” I am too modest to answer. His hands invade my body, gliding over and fondling my breasts, his erection firmly against my backside as he slides one hand between my legs, forcing them apart. “I want to be a good guy, Shy, but you make me want to do bad things. Now bend over for me.”

To my left is the bed, so I place my hands on it and give him my backside. “Keep your eyes on the mirror. I want you to watch me fuck you. I want you to see your face when I make you come.” Finally, he unbuttons his pants and pulls off his underwear. His thick, firm erection stands at attention. “I’m going to put this in your pussy, nice and easy.”

We both let out a long moan when he slides inside of me. “You are so wet. Fuck.”

I watch him in the mirror, but he never looks at it. Instead, he admires me, rubbing my backside, squeezing it firmly, smacking it, to the point of making me yell out in painful ecstasy. Every time he thrusts deep inside of me, the weight of his pelvis on my backside makes me aware of the beads still inside of me. Taylor keeps the pace, rhythmic and slow. I can tell he is so hard, that if he goes any faster, neither one of us will be able to hold out. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, and makes it disappear inside of me over and over. Being a spectator to our beautiful bodies intertwined in these lustful acts make me too hot to hold out any longer and I tighten around him. My moans become louder with each thrust.

“Tell me when you’re coming, Shy,” he says in a breathy voice.

“I am! I’m coming!” Taylor does not change his pace, instead he very slowly pulls out the beads so that there is a total feeling of release combined with the explosion. I can’t even look at the mirror, as I tilt my head back, crying out his name in a shaky voice, clenching onto the bed as if I would float away if I were to let go. My legs shake so much that I think might collapse, but Taylor holds onto me. He then lets out a deep moan, squeezing the flesh of my waist as he releases into me.

I collapse on the bed and he on top of me, our sweaty bodies panting in unison. “You rock my world,” I say to him.

“You…you…Christ…” he says in between breathes and for once, I believe Taylor is completely lost for words.

***

As I pack my bags, I am bursting with excitement to go on vacation with the most interesting people I know. We settled on Labor Day weekend to take advantage of the extra day off. Kristin invited Chad, so he managed not only go get both of us the day off on Friday, but also an early Thursday departure.

“Taylor, this is a little ridiculous for four days,” I say as I sit on top of my suitcase trying to cram in the last bit of clothes. He insisted Mona, his (
our?
) stylist, take me shopping, so I have a huge travel wardrobe with no baggage limits since we are using the jet.

“It is, but who cares? You don’t have to lug it through an airport or anything. If you don’t want to bring all this stuff, take some stuff out.”

“But I like it all!”

Taylor throws a pair of balled up socks at me.

Since the incident with Eric, I have spent every night at Taylor’s place. I still have intentions of going back to live in the condo, I just haven’t gotten around to confronting it. Plus, staying with Taylor has been great. In the morning he either sees me off if he’s working from home, or we drive in together if he’s going to headquarters. We have slowly been trying to move forward from Eric’s betrayal, and deep down inside, I fear being forced to confront the last place I saw him will revive the many mixed feelings I have about him and what he did. I think it helps Taylor to see that I am doing okay, and if I begin to show signs that I am not, I will take him down with me.

“Do you think I should bring a sweater?” I ask.

“Maybe something light, you always get cold.”

My favorite cardigan is in the box Marsha gave to me weeks ago that I have yet to unload. It’s in a storage closet near the foyer and I lug it into the bedroom, resting it on a chair. Out of the box comes the cardigan, various books, a couple of photos, some used notepads, and a small unmarked envelope. Inside the envelope is a piece of gold jewelry. I tilt the envelope so that it spills onto my palm. On a thin yellow-gold chain is an angel wing charm and
,
separately, what appears to be a solitaire ruby. It is puzzling to find this in the box because it does not belong to me. I assume it’s Marsha’s, maybe she accidentally put it in there, but a quick text to her informs me that she found it in my old office caught in the back of one of the file drawers. She tells me to hold onto it since no one has asked about it (that file cabinet hadn’t been used for over a year before becoming mine) and she’s almost certain it may never be claimed. It’s a pretty, charming piece and I slip
it
into my travel case to bring with me on the trip.

As I continue to pack, I receive a call from Mr. MacAllister, but ignore it, resolving to call him when I can find some private time to speak with him. Eventually, Taylor retreats to his office for an overseas conference call late into the night, and I sneak off to the small office upstairs to call him.

“Hi, Mr. MacAllister.”

“Hi Shyla. How are you?”

“I’m well. Any news?”

“I’m afraid to say, I may be at an impasse.”

“How so?”

“Everyone I can find who was in C.O.S who knew Lyla says they believe she is dead. As far as they all know Alan Peters was obsessed with her and she rarely ever left his sight. The common belief is the reason her body was not at the scene is because she was killed and disposed of before then. They don’t believe Alan would have let her out alive.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

“I have to tell you, my gut says something is off. I have no evidence to go either way, but I just don’t believe she was killed. It makes no sense that her son would be left alive in that case. I believe she had to have protected him in some way.
The problem is, she seems to have literally vanished off of the face of the
e
arth.
She may be in another country with a new identity and has had many years to cover her tracks. I want to keep digging, but I have to let you know I don’t think I can find her without a break.”

“I understand, but I want you to keep digging. Let’s keep going until we have exhausted every possible lead. Spoken to every person who ever knew her.”

“I agree, I know there is a break out there, and I will keep searching as long as you want me to, but I have to ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“I assume you’re not investing into this as a hobby, that there is a personal reason behind this…”

“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

“Do you know someone who knew her? Knew about her?”