Inn on the Edge (12 page)

Me?

Faster and faster the Train came around the circle. Each
time stronger.

I made it through another round.

Then two more.

It wasn’t fun anymore.

Josh was white-faced and trembling even when it was long
past his turn. His erection was so big I felt sorry for him—it must be
uncomfortable stuffed inside his pants like that. His crotch had a growing wet
stain, not that he noticed. All the men’s pants did. Mine were wet too.
Sopping, actually. You just couldn’t see it.

Geoffrey sank to his knees, keening, when it was his turn.

Nikki cried.

Tim held his arms locked straight out at his sides, his face
a strained mask.

Rhonda-Lynne ground her hips back and forth against a nonexistent
lover.

Valerian bit his lip so hard that he spewed droplets of
blood on Nikki.

Josh’s head jerked from side to side.

And still the Train came.

I tried not to watch the other people in the circle but I
couldn’t stop myself. There’s an old saying about not being able to look away
from a train wreck—well, this was one hell of a train wreck.

Then I understood.

We
couldn’t
stop.

Mr. Abiba had lied! He’d said breaking the circle would
derail the Train. He’d said if we dropped hands the game would be over—but he’d
lied! There was no stopping it! He had us right where he wanted us, trapped in
his circle, trapped in his game. We were locked in, just as we were locked in
our rooms at night, just as we were locked in the inn itself. In a sudden burst
of bright memory, it all came back to me. I remembered! I remembered
everything. The pen that had pricked us. How we’d been manipulated. The
altercation at the front door. Especially the altercation at the front door.

And yes, I understood.

The game would not stop until Mr. Abiba ended it.

He was evil.

I had to tell Josh.

But Josh was in no condition to understand anything. His
eyes were wide open, but they were unfocused and wild-looking. I yanked on his
hand, tried to separate our joined hands even though I knew it was no use.

I closed my eyes for a moment, gathering myself. The Train
was coming around again. It was Zora’s turn and soon it would be Josh’s, and
then…it would be mine. I had to be ready when it came. A moment later Josh went
rigid, and I knew it would be any second now. The Train would slam into me and
there was nothing I could do about it. I opened my eyes and saw Mr. Abiba
staring at me, his eyes boring into mine. His lips slowly rose in a snarl.

He knew. He knew that
I
knew.

And then it was my turn.

Someone was leaning over me.

Zenith.

She perched on the edge of my bed, wearing flannel pajamas,
patting my head, running her fingers through my hair, gently massaging my shoulders.
“Hey, there,” she whispered when she saw my open eyes.

I tried to sit up but she shook her head.

“You fell. You conked your head and passed out. Don’t you
remember?”

I blinked. I was in my own room. It was dim, nighttime,
probably very early morning. The bathroom light was on, casting a bluish glow
over everything, casting a bluish glow over Zenith. I gazed up at her. Pretty
Zenith. She looked different, her hair dark and lustrous in this strange light.
It wasn’t anywhere near the real color. Some of it fell over me, like a
curtain. I reached up and let a lock of it fall through my fingers. “No. I
don’t remember.”

“We were playing a game and you wiped out. It was pretty
dramatic, sweetie.”

“Really?”

“You had a fit! Do you have epilepsy or something?” She
didn’t wait for an answer. Her words spilled out one after another. “We were
playing a game, like I said, and it was your turn. It happened so fast. None of
us saw it! You screamed. Then you went all stiff and jerky. You crashed so hard
to the floor it’s a wonder you didn’t break a bone! You pulled Josh and
Geoffrey down with you, did you know that? Of course you didn’t. How could you?
They’re okay, don’t worry.” She took a shuddering breath. “No one could wake
you up. Oh Angie. We were all so upset. Mr. Abiba was beside himself. He fairly
flew across the room to get to your side! He said it was his fault—he must have
said it ten times—he said the game was too much for you, it triggered a
seizure.” She looked sideways at me, shaking her head. “Too bad, because you
were sure into it!” She put her hand on my forehead, rubbing in slow circles,
leaning in even closer. I could sense her warmth, smell her apple-scented hair,
feel her breath on my cheek. “Mr. Abiba really likes you, you know.”

He liked me? I would have to think about that. Later.

“My head hurts,” I said, touching a sore place behind my
left ear.

“That’s where you fell.”

“Everything hurts.”

“I’m not surprised.”

I stared up at her, perplexed. I didn’t remember falling. I
didn’t remember the game, whatever it had been. Was it normal, not to remember?
What had triggered my seizure, if it had been a seizure? I didn’t have epilepsy,
that much I knew. Then why? How had it happened? I remembered dinner. And that
awkward question-and-answer session. Then going to the Fine Arts Room to see
Jonathan’s jewelry. I remembered promising Mr. Abiba I would break out my art
supplies and start painting for him. Yes. I remembered being excited about
that. But falling? I had no memory of taking a dive to the ground! None.

And no memory of a game I’d apparently been a huge fan of.

“Where’s Josh?” My voice sounded thin. “I want Josh.”

Zenith put her finger to her lips. She nodded her chin
toward the other side of the king-sized bed, where Josh slept with his back to
me, snoring quietly, a blanket-covered lump only an arm’s length away. Josh!
Right next to me, and I hadn’t even known it! How much better I felt knowing he
was nearby. My lips silently formed his name, over and over. I hadn’t noticed
his snoring before, but now I did—every snort and puff and wheeze—and it
comforted me.

Zenith was so close her lips almost touched my ear. “Josh
has been by your side for hours. He fell asleep only a little bit ago. He’s
exhausted, poor thing.”

Josh.

Of course he’d stayed by my side for hours. I would have
done the same for him.

I leaned over, ignoring my protesting head, and kissed him
ever so gently on the top of his head.

Zenith sighed. She sounded tired too. “We were afraid you
had a concussion. Mr. Abiba—he’s a medical doctor, you know—Mr. Abiba said you
needed to rest. To sleep it off. He said a good night’s sleep and you’d be
fine.”

My head hurt but I was feeling better every moment. My
thoughts were almost coherent—getting there, anyway. I was lucid enough to wonder
at Zenith’s words. Mr. Abiba had said to sleep off a potential concussion?
Really? That didn’t seem right. No one in their right mind slept off a
potential concussion. You could die from doing that.

But maybe I was wrong, maybe I was thinking of something
else. A doctor would know better than I would.

“Mr. Abiba took good care of you,” said Zenith, “He just now
left. And I took over. He wanted you to drink this tea as soon as you woke up.”
She reached to the nightstand and carefully passed a full cup to me. “He said
it will help with your aches and pains.”

I sat up, suddenly realizing how very thirsty I was. And
hungry. I drank, and the still-warm liquid was sweet and refreshing. Mint,
definitely mint, with something I couldn’t quite identify—although I thought
perhaps I’d tasted it somewhere before. Wishing I could have more, I gave her
back the cup. Then I settled down again onto my pillow. It was better that way.
My head didn’t complain quite so much.

I yawned. “Who changed my clothes?”

“I don’t know. You already had your nightgown on when Mr.
Abiba called for me.”

“Oh.” I’d have to ask Josh.

“Mr. Abiba examined you. Josh and I helped.”

“Really? Uh…thanks.”

“He lifted your eyelids and compared your pupils.”

“Okay,” I said, stretching, feeling a warm sensation in my
middle. It must be the tea, doing its work. “Did they match?”

“I guess so. I’m not the doctor.” She regarded me, then
leaned over and kissed me softly on the cheek.

“So I’m okay?”

“You’re fine! Mr. Abiba tested your reflexes. He pinched your
toes and you jumped. I saw it. He did a bunch of stuff, Angie. He ran his hands
up and down your legs. Checking for broken bones, I guess. He thumped your
chest and palpated your stomach. He was amazing. So calm and in control! Never
panicked for a moment. He examined you all over, naked hands to naked skin—he
says it’s without doubt the finest way to diagnose a problem. His words, not
mine.” Zenith took a breath, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m
gushing, aren’t I? I know I am. Of course I am. You would be too. I just want
you to know the level of care he gave you. He told Josh and me he gave you the
best neurological exam possible without an MRI. And you passed. Angie, you
passed.” She kissed me again.

I liked the kiss. A lot. And I liked passing Mr. Abiba’s
exam too. Even though I wasn’t sure how I felt about the naked hands to naked
skin thing.

But I wasn’t the doctor. What did I know?

She sat back, looking at me. “And when he was finished, he
sat here—in that very chair—and held your hand. That hand. Right there. It was
so sweet.”

The hand in question twitched. We stared at it, as if my
hand contained some small part of Mr. Abiba’s genius.

Because obviously, the man
was
a genius.

“Hey—make space for me?” Zenith wriggled farther onto the
bed and drew her legs up. “Mind if I lie down next to you?” She didn’t wait for
an answer but stretched out beside me and tugged on the covers.

I would have said yes, if she’d waited. I was feeling that
much better. The warm sensation in my middle had turned into a tingle. A very
nice tingle.

“Zenith,” I said, “thank you.”

She lay on her side, facing me. She touched my nose lightly
with her finger. “You’re welcome. Spoon with me?”

I looked at her.

Then, knowing I was doing something it would be hard to turn
away from—not that I wanted to—I turned my back and snuggled up to her. So
different from Josh. So comforting. So soft. So
female
. Snuggling with
Zenith was familiar, as if our bodies were designed to fit together, as if our
knees and hips and elbows fell at exactly the right places on each other. Josh
and I were perfect too, but in a different way. He was so much taller than me.
Our parts didn’t exactly meet up in the same places. Not unless we worked at
it. Josh was a lot of things, but soft and cuddly wasn’t one of them. His knees
were bony. His hips poked at me. We were perfect together but we didn’t fittogether.
Not like this. Not like Zenith and me. I breathed deeply, feeling her breasts
pressing against my back. Her long hair tickling my shoulders. Her arms wrapped
around me, holding me, loving me.

“Mmm…” I said, more a sigh than anything else. “This is
nice.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

We lay like that, spooning, at peace, listening to Josh’s
sleep sounds. After a while she smoothed my hair over my shoulders and snuggled
even closer.

“Angie,” she said, “it’s not just Mr. Abiba. I like you
too.”

My insides lurched. I grinned, although she couldn’t see it.
“Me too. I like you too.”

She kissed me again.

I drifted in a beautiful netherworld of not wanting to fall
asleep so I could see what came next because, obviously, something wonderful
and exciting was brewing between us. But at the very same time, I yearned to
cuddle with her, sleep with her, female back to female belly, neither of us
moving a muscle for the next six hundred years. At least the next six hundred
years. I wanted both things. Although when it came right down to it, if I had
to choose, I’d rather stay awake to see what came next. Because that tingling
in my middle was more persistent with every passing minute and it was slowly
changing character. It wasn’t a tingling anymore, not really. It was more of a
boiling.

“I just wanted you to know,” Zenith whispered.

I smiled into my pillow and pulled her arm tighter around my
middle. “Thanks.”

“Are you tired?” she asked after a while.

I thought about it. “A little, yeah. Mostly I feel…curious.
You know.”

“Ah. You’ve never done this before.”

“No.”

The word settled between us, full of potential, full of
longing.

She hugged me closer. “You’ve never been with a woman?
Never?” As if I’d missed out on some basic need, as if I were some poor soul
who’d never tasted chocolate ice cream, not once.

I shook my head in the darkness, knowing she could feel it.

She didn’t say anything. I waited, feeling her chest rise
and fall with her slow, even breathing. Then her lips brushed the back of my
neck, at the hairline, at that place that always makes me melt. She nuzzled me
for a long moment. The words, when they came, were so quiet I could hardly hear
them. “But you want to. Right?”

I nodded, holding my breath.

“You want to make love to me.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“And you’re feeling up to it?”

I took her hand, playing for a moment with her long fingers
with their sweet round nails like flower petals, then placed it on my rapidly hardening
nipple, answering her question.

“You are feeling better, aren’t you?” she said softly. “But
you didn’t see what I saw back in the Fine Arts Room. Hmmm…” She ran her finger
around my areola. “Should I take your word that you’re ready for me? That you
can take what I want to give you?” She rolled my nipple between her thumb and
finger, making me bite my lip. “I mean, I don’t want to send you into another
seizure.” She placed a line of delicate, sweet kisses under my ear, adding
shivers to what was already fully melted inside me.

“Yes! I mean no! You won’t—I won’t! I’m
fine
.”

Just how inarticulate could a person be? But Zenith didn’t
notice my sudden difficulty with the English language. In fact she seemed to
enjoy it. The warm tide rose in my belly as she nibbled at my earlobe. Almost
of its own accord, my pelvis moved toward her, pressing my butt into her mound.
I shuddered, wanting more.

So much more.

“What about Josh?” she asked, doing wonderful things to my
breast, cupping it in her hand, pressing it this way and that, playing with it.

That’s right—what about Josh?

I tried to remember. Hadn’t Josh and I spoken about this
very possibility? About—I shivered—me and Zenith, together? We had discussed
it, I was sure of it, and Josh had given his blessing if the opportunity arose.
Then why couldn’t I dredge up the memory? Or remember his exact words? It must
have something to do with my seizure, or whatever it had been, in the Fine Arts
Room. It didn’t matter. I knew what I knew. Josh had given his approval.

“It’s okay,” I said, nestling even farther into the haven of
Zenith’s warm body, making up my mind to enjoy myself with her, to go for it,
knowing it was the right decision. “He can join us if he wakes up.”

“We’ll let him sleep,” Zenith decided. She kissed a trail
down my neck and onto the top of my spine. “This will be about you and me.
About us
.
”

“I like that. But we’ll have to be real quiet. So Josh won’t
wake up.”

She kissed the side of my neck, then my cheek. “Like mice.”

“Quieter,” I said, “mice are too loud.”

Her hand left my breast and wandered down my middle. “
Are
they?” she whispered, finding the hem of my nightgown and hiking it up around
my waist. “I had no idea. Let’s get this piece of fabric out of the way, shall
we?”

I mumbled my assent.

Yes! Yes! Get rid of it!

In one swift motion I turned over, un-spooning us. I sat up
and pulled my nightgown over my head. I tossed it into the corner, where all
good clothes belong. Zenith slipped out of her pajamas and I got my first full view
of those nice little breasts with their dark nipples. She had almost no
areolas, as opposed to me, whose areolas are as big as saucers.

Oh my god, they’re so pretty!

I laughed silently at myself—since when had I been such a
breast girl? Then, for the first time ever, I touched.

And I liked.

Zenith leaned back on her elbows with her eyes closed,
letting me explore her delicious curves with my hands and then with my tongue,
letting me pull her nipple into my mouth and suck and suck and suck, letting me
draw the outline of her bumpy nipple with my sensitive tongue and most of all
letting me feel what it was like to give to her what I’d so often received from
Josh.