Beautiful Confusion (New Adult Romance) Room 105 (14 page)

My goal was to go to The Manor on Sunday, after my sexcapade with Duncan was over, so I could give Abby my undivided attention.

If she was even there, I reminded myself. For all I knew, she might be gone already, floating in a sea of nothingness.

Troubled by the pain that thought caused, I got up, went over to the mirror and imagined her scattered appearance. If I chopped my hair off, I would look just like her.

“Don’t be gone,” I said. “Please don’t be gone.”

The girl in the glass didn’t respond. She didn’t morph into my sister and start talking to me.

If Abby was a hallucination, why couldn’t I just conjure her at will? The answer was simple. Schizophrenic hallucinations were often likened to dreams, where the patient couldn’t control what he or she was going to hear, see or feel.

The patient
.

Such an odd way to think of myself. But at least I wasn’t having frightening hallucinations, where someone was threatening to kill me or my family.

No, that wasn’t true. There was someone whose death had been manifested in my mind.

I walked away from my reflection, refusing to think those thoughts. Duncan assured me that he wasn’t going to die.

I returned to my computer and warned myself to relax. Tomorrow night at this time, if all went as planned, I would be naked in his bed, with his life force, his spiritual energy, swirling around me.

***

With my bra and panties in place and my thigh-high hose skimming the length of my legs, I finished getting dressed and slipped into a pair of nude-colored heels.

I didn’t look like a flasher. I actually looked quite respectable with my cute little garment all buttoned up. Even my hairstyle had an air of perky innocence. I’d clipped some butterfly barrettes into it for effect. They were the plastic kind that kids often wore. With the dress, they were sweet. With the lingerie, they were unexpectedly sinful.

Earlier, I’d snapped a picture of my ‘do and texted it to Lori. She’d sent back a smiley face. She was at home, rooting for me to make a naughty splash.

I walked into the living room, my pulse pounding like a powwow drum. Carol was dozing in an easy chair. She awoke when she heard me approach.

She blinked and squinted at me as if I was a mirage. She righted her slumped posture and asked, “Where are you going?”

I adjusted my vintage suitcase. I’d nabbed it from the store this week, knowing it would look chic with my outfit. It was beige, like my dress. “I’m spending the night with Lori.”

“You spent last weekend with her.”

“I know, but she invited me over again. Besides, I have a date with Duncan tomorrow afternoon, so I figured it would be easier for him to pick me up at Lori’s instead of coming here.”

It was a clever yarn, a believable lie. I could tell that she bought it. But why wouldn’t she? As far as she knew, I didn’t have any reason to dupe her.

“You look cute,” she said. “That’s a smart outfit.”

“Thank you. Lori and I are meeting for dinner before I go to her house.” Another lie.

“Did you pack your medication?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t going to forget something as important as my pills, not on a night like this.

“I’ve never seen you fix your hair like that.”

I fluffed one of the bouncy waves. “It was a whim.”

“You had barrettes like that when you were little, only they were bows, not butterflies.”

My panties had bows on the sides, but I couldn’t tell her about my underwear. “You gave me a butterfly book when I was young. It was one of my favorite books.”

“Oh, that’s nice.” She touched a hand to her heart. “I don’t remember it, but I’m glad you do.”

“There’s a species of butterflies with Vanessa as part of their name.”

“Really? How interesting. You never told me that before.”

“Mostly they’re orange with black spots and white tips on their wings. But it depends on what region they’re from.”

“Well, the pink ones in your hair look pretty on you. You should wear them on your date tomorrow with Duncan so he can see them, too.”

I had every intention of him seeing them this evening. “Maybe I will. We’re going to hang out at Griffith Park.” That much was true. “It’s what Duncan has planned for us.”

“I’m happy you’re dating him. You’re good for each other.”

I agreed, except that I wanted more out of our relationship than I could admit to her. “I better go. I don’t want to be late meeting Lori for dinner.”

“Have a great time.”

“Thanks. I will.”

She stood up, and I put down my suitcase and hugged her. Her body lotion smelled like cinnamon, the spicy scent infused with warmth.

“I love you,” I said, wanting her to know how much I cared.

She sucked in her breath and held me closer. “I love you, too,” she replied, before she let me go.

***

An hour later, I pulled into an underground parking lot a block from Duncan’s loft. I took the ticket from the machine and placed it on my dashboard. Lori told me it was the safest place to leave my car overnight. She’d also cautioned me to watch out for beggars and homeless people who might approach me while I was walking to Duncan’s place.

I got out of the car and clutched my boxy suitcase, probably looking like a throwback from the sixties, like a Pan Am stewardess or something.

As I walked to Duncan’s loft, my shoes clip-clopped on the sidewalk. Luckily, no one approached me. In fact, I only saw one homeless person, an older man, huddled against a building with his belongings. I strode past him, keeping my gaze straight ahead.

But the farther I got from him, the worse I felt, leaving him behind. He could have been Jack or Duncan or anyone. He could have even been me, in another place or time.

I stopped and turned around, taking cautious steps toward him and hoping I was doing the right thing.

He looked up at me, but he didn’t say anything. He had a lean face, haunted eyes, and thinning hair plastered to his head. It was impossible to know how long it had been since he’d bathed.

I thought about Abby’s bad grooming habits, and how I overcompensated for them, becoming fanatical about my appearance when I was in recovery. This man might have been a clean freak at one time in his life, too.

I put my suitcase down and reached into my purse. I removed a twenty dollar bill from my wallet and extended it to him.

His voice quavered when he said, “Bless you.” It sounded so much more profound than, “Thank you.”

“What’s your name?” I asked. I didn’t want to walk away without knowing something about him.

“It’s Ron.” He clutched the money tightly in his hand. “Ronald.”

“I’m Vanessa.” I almost told him that I was schizophrenic, but I didn’t want to scare him, so I didn’t say it. Instead I said, “I have a sister named Abby.” A sibling that I didn’t know if I was ever going to see again.

“Bless her, too,” he replied.

Yes, I thought. Bless all of us. “Bye, Ronald.”

“Bye.” He gave me a shaky wave.

I continued my block-long journey. When I came to Duncan’s street, I turned right, as Lori had instructed me to do. She’d told me that he lived above a textile shop and that I needed to take the stairs around the back to get to his place. I noticed a gated parking area and saw Duncan’s truck. There weren’t any extra spaces. It was for tenants only.

The steps to the lofts were narrow. I took each one carefully, lugging my suitcase along.

I reached the landing and breathed deeply. Duncan lived in the first unit. As soon as I pressed the buzzer, there would be no turning back. Not that I wanted to leave, but I was nervous just the same.

Without further delay I rang the bell, praying that I could pull this off.

Duncan came to the door with a startled expression. “Vanessa?”

“Surprise,” I said. It was the only thing I could think to say. My heart was playing leapfrog with my throat. I was lucky that I could even talk.

“You surprised me all right. I was expecting to see Lori.” He spotted my suitcase on the ground and asked, “So, what’s going on? What’s in there?”

“It’s just some stuff,” I replied. He obviously didn’t associate it with being an overnight bag. I used his bewilderment as an opportunity to settle into the environment. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, you just threw me. And you look so pretty, fixed up the way you are.” He sounded intrigued by my proper little appearance.

I was intrigued by him, too. He was wearing sweat shorts and a Batman T-shirt. His hair was in a ponytail and his feet were bare. To me, he was as gorgeous as ever.

“Is Lori still coming by?” he asked.

“No. She can’t make it.” I entered his loft and set my suitcase off to the side. I put my purse down, too.

“So you decided to visit me because you knew I’d be home by myself?”

“Yes.” I wasn’t ready to peel off my dress, though. I needed more time to tackle that. “This is a great place.”

I took the liberty of wandering around. As far as I could tell, it appeared to be about two-thousand square feet, and he used half of it for living space and the other half for his studio. Aside from the bathroom, everything was open and visible. His bed was near a window, flanked by mismatched nightstands. The floors were concrete, painted in mottled shades of clay, and the walls were covered in graffiti. He’d even scrawled some profanities above his bed, using the words like dirty poetry.

My gaze strayed back to the bed itself. It was unmade. He wasn’t ridiculously messy, but he wasn’t overly tidy, either. I noticed empty food wrappers on his kitchen counter. His computer table was cluttered, too, his laptop surrounded by paperwork. I didn’t try to make sense of his studio. I didn’t know heads or tails about art supplies.

He caught my attention and asked, “When are you going to tell me what’s in the case and why you brought it with you?”

Now, I thought. Right now. Stalling wasn’t going to get me anywhere. If I was going to offer myself to him, then this was the time to do it.

“It’s an overnight bag,” I said. “I want to spend the night, Duncan. I want to stay here with you and sleep in your bed and wake up in your arms.”

He stared at me, as if he’d just forgotten how to breathe. “You and Lori planned this?”

I nodded.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Vanessa. You’re still so…”

“Fragile? Shattered?” I lifted my chin, standing my ground. “Schizophrenics are allowed to have sex.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t want to take advantage of you. We should probably wait—”

“I don’t want to wait.” I summoned the strength to undo the first two buttons of my dress, exposing a lacy glimpse of my bra.

He swallowed so hard, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Oh, Christ, Vanessa. What are you doing?”

It was a redundant question, so I didn’t answer it. I kept undoing buttons. I made eye contact with him, too. I refused to show fear, otherwise I would seem fragile and shattered, and I couldn’t bear for him to think of me that way.

“Holy fuck,” he said when I opened my dress all the way.

There I was in my sexy ensemble: bra, panties, and thigh-high hose. My strappy heels were an added bonus. I smiled, ever so softly. I was wearing pink lipstick, the same lustful color as my lingerie.

This time, he said, “Holy fucking hell,” and moved closer.

Thump, thump, thump
.

My heart began to pound. Was he going to sweep me into his arms, drag me to his bed, and fuck the holy hell out of me?

Lord, I hoped so.

“What am I going to do with you?” he asked. But now he was just inches from my face, my body, my everything.

“Whatever you want to do.” I looped my arms around him.

He buried his face against my neck. “You look so good.” He inhaled me like a fresh-baked cake. “You smell so good. You’re giving me the worst kind of hard-on.”

“I know. I can feel it.” And it was the most electrifying thing I’d ever felt. “Take me to bed, Duncan.”

“I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yes, you should.” I tightened my hold on him. “Don’t make me beg.”

He looked directly into my eyes. “I could come right now, Vanessa. I could come all over you.”

He kissed me, deep and wet, and my skin went burning hot. I was becoming as feverish as he was, our mouths joining in sin-blasting fury.

“We have to go slow,” he said, his words contradicting his actions. He’d kissed me so hard he’d nearly bruised my lips. But now he was back to waging a war, trying to do what he thought was right.

“Please,” I said. “Don’t coddle me. And don’t go slow.”

“But I might hurt you.”

“I don’t care.” I put my lips against his ear. “I need for you to fuck me. I want it deep, and I want it rough.”

He cursed and lifted me into his arms.

I was getting my wish. Soon I would be having raw and wild sex. I was so excited I could scarcely breathe.

He carried me to his unmade bed, climbed on top of me, and kissed me like his life depended on it. Strangely, dangerously erotic, he tangled me up in the covers, even though I was still wearing my shoes.

I tugged his hair loose from its ponytail and dragged my fingers through it. “Just promise to hold me afterward.”

“I will.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor. His shorts came next.

He wasn’t wearing underwear and his erection sprang free. He didn’t give me a chance to touch it. He went right into undressing me. He started with my shoes. Those were easy. Off they went, hitting the concrete with a bang-bang.

He toyed with my hose. “No girl has ever worn these for me. I’ve seen them in magazines, but never in person.” He peeled them down my legs, one at a time.

When he buried his face against my panties, I shivered all the way to my toes. He kissed me there, through the fabric, and I watched him, refusing to get shy. I’d asked for this, and I was going to let it happen without turning to mush.

“Take off your bra,” he said.

I leaned forward, undid the hooks and dropped it on the floor with the rest of our clothes. He did the honor of removing my panties, and I lay there, fully bare, with him checking me out.