In My Sister's Shadow (13 page)

“Are you OK?” He lowered his face to hers and ran his finger lightly along the cut on her cheek. “We better get you cleaned up.” He carried her into the bathroom and he prepared to run her a bath. Bijou said not one word. He could see she was in a state of shock as she stared off into space.

“It’s over now, Bijou. You’re finally free.”

* * *

“How long is this going to take, baby? The movie starts soon.” He glanced down at his watch and leaned over the counter. “Date prisa!
Vamos, mi amor! Dale! Dale!
”

“Huh?” Bijou looked over her shoulder at him in the darkroom. “You know I’m not fluent in Spanish. Now, say something in French and we’ll be working with something.” She laughed as she placed more photos in envelopes to display the following day in the main studio lobby.

“Never mind.” He moved around the counter that separated them and stood directly behind her, held her close to his body, playfully immersed his face in her wild, soft hair. “We’re not going to make it. It’s too late – you know that, right? We’re always late because of you.”

“I’m almost done.” She placed more photos in an envelope, not leaving his embrace. “Just give me a…Ahhh!”

She straightened, pushing firmly into him, squeezing her butt cheeks together as he swiftly swept his hand up her black skirt from behind, forcing her to twist and turn in his palm. He didn’t let go. It didn’t take long before she leaned back into him, the back of her head sliding roughly up and down his chest as his fingers glided back and forth over her thin, sheer silver and black satin panties.

He whispered in her ear, smiling wide. “Is everyone gone for the day? It’s just you and me, right? Sólo nosotros?”

“Mmm hmmm,” she murmured as she leaned into him even harder.

She stumbled a little as though weak at the knees, then bent down, pushing her ass into him as he worked his fingers firmly against her soaking-wet pussy. He groaned.

“Mmm.”

His lips brushed against her ear as he ushered her towards the darkroom counter. Surveying the space, he took notice of a clear area and gently leaned her against it, yanked her skirt up and pushed his firm pelvis into her ass. Grinding, keeping his hand steady, he explored inside her panties with his hand, making her shudder and quake as she moaned right along with him. He sucked hard on the side of her neck, while sliding anxiously up and down her body. Unable to wait any longer, he knocked her legs apart, pulled back from her and unzipped his pants.

“Shit,” he whispered when he felt her extreme wetness on his fingers.

Her uncontrollable shaking excited him; he knew what she was anticipating…wanting…needing. Grabbing her gently around the neck, he held her secure as he pushed upward inside her. Her scream rang out as he thrust in and out her, his groin bumping into her soft, fleshy rounded ass with all of his might. He reached forward, gripped the edge of the counter, their hands on top of one another, as he continued to rock, lunge and thrust with great determination. She looked over her shoulder at him. He caught her smile as he pushed his fingers roughly through her hair, bended her further on the counter, her breasts flattened on the coolness of the granite as he went in harder, deeper, and stronger. He held onto her hips, losing himself in the goodness of her secure, wet, inviting and so delicious fit. She sighed loudly as he moved just how he liked it. He grunted, angling himself upward, hitting her so deeply, there was nowhere else to go.

“Oh, shit! My God!”

“Goddamn it, Bijou! Mmm!” he slurred as he fell down upon her back, twisting and grinding his hips, keeping his feet planted firmly as he continued to move aggressively. He straightened and held tighter onto her hips.

“Yessss…like that!”

She reached forward, her arms flailing wildly against the counter as she reached into nothingness, grasping the air – wanting something to hold onto as he manhandled her, his need stronger than his self-control. He buried his forehead against her arching back and jetted in and out of her. They were both almost there.

“I love how you fuck me!” she screamed out, as he continued to slam into her. “You just…
take me
…you’re so…Ahhh!” The red light bathed them in lingering soft crimson glow as he continued to take…her….

“You didn’t want to tell me you were a virgin,” he grunted, laughing roughly. “Do you know how fucking sexy that is to me? Knowing my dick is the
only
one you’ve ever had in you?”

He screamed out as he continued to thrust in and out of her, turned on even more when she looked at him over her shoulder. He was taking her body on the ride of its life.

“I get so turned on by you…knowing
you
chose
me
…”

He gritted his teeth as he came inside her. His liquefied warmth spurred her own, his words, his climatic thrusts causing her to orgasm just as hard. Afterward, they rested, keeping their same position. Mark exhaled, his face and chest hot with sweat. He kissed the middle of her back, his lips running up and down her with additional pecks as he tried to wake from the sexual love hangover.

He
truly
felt intoxicated. Every time they made love, it was the same thing – his head would throb from the harsh orgasms. She liked to be spoken to so dirty; it would make it even harder for him to keep his climax at bay. He loved that she was so nasty; oftentimes liked it rough, hard and ferocious. Someone so beautiful, sweet, and a tad bit innocent wanted him to manhandle her…and now that they were making love regularly, he saw her as an exquisite nympho that he was madly in love with. She spurred him on as she continuously solicited him for early morning, afternoon and late midnight snack encounters, doing all that she could to make their sex life that much more exciting and joyous. He owned her body
and
her heart, and the enslavement was mutual. He loved her so much, it hurt…more than any other woman he’d ever dated, kissed, had sex with and loved – and this side of her, this display for his eyes only, was the beautifully busted cherry on top…

* * *

Three months later…

“Yes baby, I know!” Bijou laughed as she cradled her cell phone in the crook of her neck and moved frantically around the dark room. “Mark, I promise I will stop by the funeral home and drop it off, just let me get these photos up that I developed last night. You really should have a spare though.”

“Are you really going to blame me for this? In your big hurry this morning, you just grabbed the first keys you saw.” He huffed. “I need to get into the back room. It doesn’t even look like your key.” He laughed. “Just come on by, baby. Call me when you get here.”

“OK, I’ll leave in a few minutes, I promise!”

Bijou replayed the conversation in her mind and laughed again as she grabbed the photos off of the thin hanging line in the darkroom. Her smile froze, then slowly faded. The entire room seemed to be spinning out of control as her emotions jumped in various directions, causing her heavy heart palpitations. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief as she looked closer at the footage.

She hadn’t gotten around to developing the film, the photos she’d taken of Mark drinking milk out of the jug, all of those months ago. She’d taken so many pictures of him, especially that day – all forgotten until earlier that morning when she looked at all the undeveloped film she had been collecting in a big bin on her desk. She finally had a spare moment after leaving her boyfriend’s home following yet another wonderful night. It was a quiet morning, the perfect timing to take care of work that had piled up.

Bijou doubled over, holding her stomach as queasiness, agitation and sorrow consumed her. She took a deep breath and regrouped, then made her way over to the side of the room and turned the overhead light on so she could see clearer. She looked closer at the glossy black-and-white photographs, the ones of Mark standing there eating, laughing, running, sitting, and talking. His large rustic kitchen framed his tall, toned semi-naked body beautifully as a trickle of milk ran down his chin – the glowing bright light of the refrigerator shining on him.

But beauty was in the eye of the beholder because they were not the only two in the room.

She hadn’t seen it with her naked eye, and obviously neither did he – but Rhine was there but there were bits of her…a blur, in the background at times, in various photos, but it was definitely her. In one, her entire face showed in the background, a look of forlornness and sorrow consuming her.

Rhine hastily collected all the photos, her hands shaking as she reviewed them over and over and over until she’d had her macabre fill. She filled another tub of solution, turned the overhead light off and turned the red light back on. Taking a deep breath, she clutched the photos and dropped them one by one inside it, submerging them, purposefully ruining the images, making them turn completely stark white and curl at the ends. Though the photos were now gone, what she saw, who she saw, would be forever, indelibly imprinted in her mind…

* * *

Six months later…

Bijou sat in front of the large vanity. She sighed and looked herself over once more, smiling as she placed the small warm glass of water to her lips, careful to not smear her sheer gloss. She sat alone, the morning sun filtering in the window, highlighting her spiraled hair under the sparkling tiara. Just outside the door were their family and friends, waiting to see the bride walk down the aisle, toward a lovely man named Mark Centano who’d asked her hand in marriage. She accepted, but this was not the only vow they’d taken.

They swore to keep what occurred a secret – theirs to hold – and to not speak of that evening ever again. No one knew what had happened that night, not even Aunt Clarabelle. Their union grew exponentially after such a tortuous, surreal event, yet it fit so perfectly with their unconventional and beautifully unique relationship. She was in love, and the day couldn’t be sweeter. A tinge of pain filled her heart as she looked over at a photo of her and her sister, hugging and kissing each other’s cheeks. It was one of the best days they’d shared, both happy teenagers at the state fair with pale pink cotton candy in their hands. Bijou picked up the photograph and traced it casually with her finger.

“Rhine, I know you’re OK now. You’re
finally
OK.” Her voice shook. “I love you, baby girl.” She slowly stood to her feet when her father entered the room and took her by the arm. He smiled at her, patted her hand, and led her away to the man of her dreams.

* * *

“You may now, kiss the bride!” exclaimed the minister.

Mark lifted Bijou’s veil, his smile wider than the ocean. He lowered his lips to hers, blocking out the cheering and applause as he pulled her into a serene, protected little biosphere.

“I love you so much, baby,” he whispered in her ear. He smiled down at her and cradled her close, gently rubbed her back, the lace of her bodice soft against his fingertips.

“I love you, too.”

Thirty minutes later, the last of the professional wedding photos were taken as people moseyed past, and entered the dining hall. Mark was alone with her, waiting as she grabbed her satchel purse and change of shoes – white, thick-wedged flip flops with large rhinestones so that she could dance the night away. He caught her eyeing him as she rose to her feet, and he smiled at her as sexual thoughts of the wedding night he had planned for her crept into his mind. Red rose petals, expensive vintage wine, romantic music, black-and-white polka dot blindfolds, a heart-shaped hot tub and some of the dirtiest chat he could muster…

She winked at him, snapping him abruptly out of his daydream as she came forward and took his hand. When they approached the door to rejoin their guests, he looked back, noticing her train; it was not touching the ground. He looked around the room. No windows were open, no breeze blowing, yet the veil stayed safely off the ground, floating. His heart played a faster beat. It was then that he realized that his eyes were not deceiving him. He looked down at Bijou.

“What? What is it?” She looked behind her, canvassing the room for anything out of place.

He then felt the familiar coolness as the temperature dropped. He knew it all too well now.

Clearing his throat, he held her closer. “It appears that
someone
wants to be your maid of honor…” He then pointed to the long veil, almost the same length as her train, approximately three inches off the ground. Just then, a light giggle could be heard. Bijou’s eyes grew as she continued to look over her shoulder.

“Oh, my God.” She put her hand to her lips and looked back up at Mark.

He gave her an encouraging smile, hooked his arm around hers once again, and led her out of the chamber into the hallway towards the large banquet room where a feast of epic proportions was being served.