Sacred Revelations (32 page)

We both wait for her to elaborate, she doesn’t. Kneeling beside her, I push her damp bangs out of her eyes and turn her face to me. She doesn’t resist and in fact seems lethargic, wrung out. She closes her eyes to keep from looking into mine, whispering, “My father’s dead.” All the puzzle pieces collide into place. “I have a funeral to plan.”

Should I be concerned that Kitten hasn’t talked about it? Maybe. But then we still don’t know all the details. She isn’t crying and, as far as I can tell, hasn’t cried, but then everyone deals with grief in their own way.

True to his word, Thomas did manage to rummage up a meal. Italian takeout from a local restaurant, three kinds of pasta, Caesar salad, homemade breads. I didn’t expect him to return with a fast-food paper-bag meal—that isn’t his style because he would go without food before putting into his body what he considers garbage—but we are feasting like gods. I almost feel guilty, because Kitten isn’t eating and even the threat of punishment didn’t make her open her mouth. Actually, I’ve never heard Kitten be a real smart-ass, but tonight she said, “That’s an idea, force me to eat so I can vomit on your pillow.”

I left her alone.

Now, she sleeps, pillow safe from vomit.

Thomas kicks back in the small desk chair by her bed, bare feet on the mattress, not watching her, but seeming to watch over her. A littering of dirty plates, glassware, and Styrofoam coffee cups line the desk behind him and, out of nervousness or a need to tidy, I do, tossing empty carryout containers and putting the dirty plates and glasses in the kitchenette’s mini dishwasher.

I’m surprised when Thomas comes up behind me and starts rubbing my back. “She’s going to be okay.

She’s exhausted. Stop worrying.”

“Who said I’m worried?”

His fingers knead deeper, loosening tight muscles, making me moan.

“Fine, if you’re not worried, you can come into the bedroom and rub my back.”

I bend my head low, letting his iron fingers shred my neck muscles, sighing. “Please don’t stop.”

His warm, deep chuckle vibrates against my back as he slides in closer, molding his body into mine. “I’m glad you still like my touch.” His voice tells me even more than his touch that he expects things to turn intimate.

“We can’t,” I say, trying to shrug away from him, but he holds me in place, pushing his weight against me to wedge me between the solid wall of his body and the sink. “Kitten might wake up.”

“Kitten isn’t going to wake up. Relax.”

“We haven’t discussed this with her yet. She may not want us to be a ménage à trois for real, full-time.”

I pant, my body responding to him, though at the moment I wish it wouldn’t.

I never thought romance might be what I was bargaining for when I agreed that we should become a threesome. I expected to be pushed, hard, physically, painfully by Thomas, not seduced. Now, twice in twenty-four hours, he’s seduced, teased, and treated me like a new lover, a new boyfriend, and my mind is having a hard time wrapping around it. I never expected this and that makes me wonder if he’s playing a mind game, to see if I can deal with the consequences of a ménage à trois before announcing the plan to Kitten. Right now, this second, we could still back out. If we wanted to. I lift my chin. “What’s going on, Thomas?”

He leans in, biting my cheek, hard. “Stop overanalyzing, Garrett. Relax.”

“You’re going a little soft on me, I think I need to worry.”

“Far from soft.” Hands on my shoulders, he pivots me to face him. I don’t resist when the pressure of his hands pushes me down onto my knees. He gives me a moment to balance myself, the space he has given me between his braced legs and the cabinet to my back just barely enough room; or maybe he’s giving me time to refuse, but honestly I don’t even consider refusing as he slides his zipper. I push his jeans down just enough to expose him to me completely. His erect penis springs forward, hard, ready.

His hands pull me into him, insistent. I keep my lips pressed together, letting his smooth head bob against my closed mouth. He pushes harder. I like the feel of his hard cock pushing against my lips. I nudge in, just enough to let him know that I’m not saying no, just playing.

“Bitch.”

Catching his gaze, holding it, I watch his face darken with lust as I lick the tip of his cock, rimming his piss hole. I resist the pull of his hands as he tries to push himself into my mouth. I hold his gaze, taking my tongue in a slow slide down the sensitive underside. I give a fast lick around the base of his balls before pulling the smooth globe into my mouth to roll it around with my tongue. Lips closing, holding him snug in my mouth, I suck. Thomas’s eyes close and his head falls back. I pull the second ball into my mouth, holding, rolling, sucking, pulling his flesh hard until he moans and his fingers twine into my hair, pulling tight. I bite, a teasing bite, and his grip tightens. I run my hands up his hard, jean-covered thighs, letting his balls slide from my mouth, running a teasing lick up his shaft before taking his length into my mouth.

His hiss of pleasure makes me look up and, for a moment, our eyes meet again. Low on his shaft, his entire length in my mouth, I bite, making him tense—teasing bites, bite, release, bite, release.

“Garrett.” He growls my name softly, but it’s a warning growl. He needs me to give him quick release and I toy with him. I bite, harder. My name comes from his lips in a spasm.

I grab his thighs then, pulling him into me deeper, setting up a rhythm, loosening my mouth to take him in and out smoothly, quickly. Sucking in my cheeks just enough to make my mouth feel as tight to him as a warm, throbbing pussy. His thighs shake beneath my firm grip and, around his cock, my lips smile. This I’m good at, really good, and I want him to remember that once upon a time I blew his mind with my skill.

Swallowing more, I relax my throat, taking him deeper with my swallow. Hands gripping hard on his ass, I control the rhythm, forcing his cock deeper, letting him fuck my throat, but in reality, my rhythm, my control, I know he feels like I am fucking him…hard…harder.

He tries to slow the pace, to force down his own need, his own desires, but I don’t let him, knowing he’s close, very close. I push him, tightening my mouth, quickening the stroke until I feel him tense, knowing he’s about to come.

“Blessed mother,” he grunts, coming hard. “I’ve missed you.”

“It is good to have among us such men, such balancing monsters of love.”

-Leonard Cohen, Beautiful Losers

Thomas

Ohio is the land of ghosts. I heard that once, somewhere, but I can’t remember where for the life of me; but it must be true. I sit here watching Kitten sleep fitfully, wrestling demons she’d once locked far away.

While she was with me at the beach house, she’d seemed to find peace, but now the old fight resurfaces here. Even in sleep, her brow is pinched like she is thinking too hard. Garrett lies beside her, staring into space, not the self-confident man ofSan Francisco , but made fragile by a single flight.

I covered them both with the sheet and lightweight, institutional-grade blanket provided by the hotel, cranked up the heat, and hoped that we’d all find refuge in sleep. Kitten did, Garrett and I didn’t.

I have no time for thoughts of Lattie and my children, but they are on my mind much since I boarded the plane—too much time to think. I miss them. Kitten has spent so much time escaping her father, her upbringing, and Garrett, though he denies it, has done the same. I wonder if my children will even remember me when they are adults. I wonder if they will hate me for my desertion or will they realize that events out of my control kept me from their lives. I sigh, crossing the room, escaping my thoughts with distraction. I sit down on the edge of the bed next to Garrett. He lies on his stomach. I rub his back, offering him the small comfort of my thoughts. “She’s going to be all right, she’s just exhausted.”

Garrett sighs. “Ohio is an exhausting state.”

“We’re inKentucky .”

“Same difference.” He arches his back into my hands encouragingly.

My hands respond, kneading deeper, noting how tense his muscles are. It hasn’t escaped my notice that Garrett has been as despondent as Kitten since our plane touched down. “How far is your family from here?”

He jerks with the question, admitting, “Across the river, ten miles.”

“Really?” I keep rubbing, focusing on the places that make him moan. “Will you go see them while you’re here?” I don’t think he’ll answer because he takes so long doing so, but then he stretches. “I don’t know.”

Sitting up, he looks from her, curled on the bed, to me. “She hasn’t said it, but this has to be destroying her. She didn’t get a chance to say good-bye.”

“Lots of people lose loved ones without getting to say good-bye.” I find a really tight knot that makes him squirm.

“I know, but isn’t it different when you choose to not see people on purpose, when you just write them out of your life?”

“Is that what you did?”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing, putting us shoulder to shoulder. “I’ve been back. I’ve done seminars in Cincy. I always stop by the house. Mom’s great. She doesn’t really talk about my lifestyle, but there’s no condemnation either. My dad…he’s always away when I visit, at the hospital, golfing, something, anything. I disappointed him a long time ago. He hasn’t forgiven me. I did everything I could, but over the years, we never really reconciled, even though I flew in to take all the final exams, making the money and time spent on med school not a total loss. I had the M.D. following my name after all. But it wasn’t the same. I wouldn’t be carrying on the family tradition, I refused to join the family practice.

Worse, I didn’t want the white picket fence dream.”

I roll him over so that he is on his back, looking up at me. I catch his chin in my hand as he turns his head away, pulling his gaze back to mine. “You’re wondering what it’s going to be like when you get the phone call that your dad died?”

“Maybe. Or I could just be missing the white picket fence.” He sighs. “I really don’t want to talk about this. I want to sleep. I want to stop thinking for a while. I want you to go to bed, too, with us.” He scoots, pulling Kitten with him to make room for me on her other side. She sighs, wrapping around him in her sleep.

“Three in a bed?” I ask, arching my brow. “Is that even legal inKentucky ?”

“I didn’t take you for a man who obeys the laws of the state you’re in.” Garrett laughs and it’s a good sound to hear after the day we’ve shared. “Now who’s scared?”

“It’s too early for bed.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’ve been awake forty-nine hours at this point. I could really go for some sleep.”

“Nothing else?” I tease, smirking as he squirms uneasily against Kitten. His guilt is palatable and I enjoy torturing him. We still haven’t talked to Kitten about a ménage à trois for real. And honestly, I don’t see the point. Garrett has always been and always will be monogamous. I don’t see that changing. I lean over Kitten, brushing her in her sleep and she snuggles even closer to Garrett. Bending closer, I bite his cheek, whispering around the fold of skin between my teeth, “Come outside and play with me?”

“Only if I can snore through it,” he answers sarcastically.

I laugh outright, pulling away from him, leaving his face unmarked, though I really wanted to mark him.

On a more serious note, he asks, “The club is opening its doors for the evening in an hour, did you call anyone?”

“Anyone as in to say that neither one of us are going to be there to run the show?” I ask before assuring him, “Lewd Larry’s would survive without us, but yes, I gave George a courtesy call to let him know what was happening.”

“Thank you,” he says, patting the empty spot of mattress. “Now, come to bed with us.”

Too tired to argue, I pull my T-shirt over my head and push off my jeans. Naked, I climb in beside Kitten, but not spooning.

I awake, chilled and very alone in the bed. Still and silent, I locate Garrett and Celia by sound, then, as my vision adjusts, by sight. Garrett holds her in his arms, pinning her between him and wall. That they are having sex is immediately obvious—raw, passionate, rough, pounding, up against the wall, screaming sex.

I watch, seeing no reason not to, enjoying the show enough that I am fully erect when they stop moving, both convulsing into each other.

No words are exchanged as Garrett pulls away, bringing her with him to carry her back to the bed, where he tucks her between us. She rolls onto her side, wrapping her arm around my waist and snuggling her face deep into her pillow without a word.

“I’m sorry we woke you.” Garrett pulls the blanket and covers all of us back up.

“I didn’t complain.”

“I just needed a release, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t stop thinking.”

“Are you done thinking now?”

“Yes.”

“So we can all sleep now?”

“Yes.” He sighs and it is a harsh, shuddering sound.

Reaching over Celia, I wrap my fingers around his bicep, giving a small squeeze. “It’s going to be okay, Garrett. Morning will be here before you know it.”

“It’s always worse at night,” he says and, in the dark, I nod, understanding exactly what he’s feeling if not what ghosts are haunting him. We all have those people, places, regrets that we spend all day hiding from, but in our wakeful thoughts and uncontrollable dreams, we brave the battle night after night. My ghost is Eva and some nights it is better to not sleep at all than fall victim to the memories relived in my dreams night after night.

“To breathe is an affliction requiring real courage. At this hour of the night the only anodyne for such sadness is the diversion of sweet flesh itself.”

-Richard Wright, The Weekend Man

Kitten

I awaken, at once wide-eyed, realizing that the nightmare wasn’t a dream at all, but fact. My father is dead. With my awareness comes the moment it dawns that I am snuggled naked between equally naked Garrett and Thomas, a cage of their arms and legs wrapped around me. I vaguely remember the sex. It was powerful, feral, brief, and I am sore as a result. Shoulders aching, I shift to release the pressure, and realize without a doubt that the muscles of my ass cheeks and thighs are a firebrand of pain. I hold very still. Still enough to relax and let the pain pass. Still enough for the memory of last night to come racing back.