SELFLESS (14 page)

“You’re a lifesaver, baby, thank you so much,” Cream said, her voice rushed. “We’ll be there soon, don’t worry.”

She slammed the receiver down on the payphone and grabbed me by my arm.

“Taxi,” she barked. “Now.”

She almost got hit by the one she stepped in front of to get to stop, and we plunged into the backseat just as another passenger was getting out.

“Jesus,” the driver said, craning his neck around to look at us. “You in a hurry, or what?”

“Or what, baby,” Cream said, batting her eyes at him. “Please step on it.”

She gave him an address and we were out of there just as the cops passed by. We both sagged with visible relief and glanced at each other. I wasn’t sure who started laughing, but soon we were both guffawing, tears running down our cheeks, holding our bellies. The adrenaline surging through me made me feel sick, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

“What’s so funny?” the driver asked, staring at us suspiciously in the rearview mirror. “You gonna let me in on the joke?”

We both shook our heads. If it was a joke, it was a big cosmic one. We’d escaped the raid, just barely, and now we had somewhere safe to go. I felt guilty that I’d almost left Cream. She was probably saving my life.

“I think I grabbed the right girl when we started running,” I said, smiling at her.

“We’re sisters, Pumpkin,” she said, squeezing my hand. “I’d never let anything happen to you.”

I hoped she never found out that I considered leaving her behind. It was something that would come to haunt me.

I woke up to the smell of cooking food—sausage or something. My stomach grumbled and I stretched, yawning. I was still alone in the bed. Cream hadn’t come back last night.

I used the bathroom and splashed water on my face, trying to wake myself up. Why hadn’t they woken me up? I hated the feeling of being left out—always had.

Was I going to have to fuck Andrew in order to belong to their special breakfast club?

Careful to keep my face blank, I wrapped myself in the robe and walked to the kitchen.

Andrew was reading a newspaper and drinking espresso while Cream managed the stove. He glanced up and smiled at me.

“Good morning, Pumpkin,” he said. “I hope we didn’t keep you up last night.”

Cream grinned at me. “I thought maybe I was being too loud, at one point,” she said.

I shook my head, refusing to let either of them bait me. “Slept like a baby,” I said. “Can I help with anything?”

“Could you pour some juice?” Cream asked. “This is all almost done.”

I kept mostly quiet through breakfast, observing and weighing my options. If Andrew preferred Cream to me, that would be to my advantage, wouldn’t it? I could escape his attention and do my own thing. Maybe I could even be happy here, in this situation.

But what if they united against me? I watched as Cream ran her hand down Andrew’s arm as she asked him a question about his work. It was a familiar touch, like they knew each other. Did I need to ingratiate myself with him?

Resolutely, I shoved a bite of sausage into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully, deliberately. There were too many puzzle pieces missing for me to get a clear picture. I would have to wait. And observe.

“Consult the binder on things to keep you busy today,” Andrew said, kissing both of us on the tops of our heads as we did the dishes. “I’ll be back at seven.”

I glanced at the clock. Eight sharp. Andrew had been true to his word so far on his meticulous schedule.

“Have a good day,” Cream said, smiling warmly at him.

“See you later,” I added. Andrew’s eyes lingered on me before he shut the door behind him, the security system beeping and clicking.

“He was amazing,” Cream gushed the moment Andrew left. “Oh my God, Pumpkin. It was so intense. You’re going to have to try it to believe it. He was one of the best lovers I’ve ever had.”

I raised my eyebrows. If what Cream had said about her life was true, that was awfully high praise. She’d had a lot of lovers.

“And his cock?” Cream added, holding her pointer fingers a span apart that had to be an exaggeration.

“You’re lying,” I scoffed, putting the last skillet away and going for the binder.

“I’m not,” she said. “It was incredible.”

“We’ll see,” I said doubtfully, opening it up to the spreadsheet again.

“Yes, you will,” Cream said with certainty. “Andrew said he was sorry that you didn’t come along. I made excuses for you, so don’t worry.”

I frowned at that, wondering just what it was she’d said. I hoped it was nothing along the lines of “Pumpkin doesn’t want to be forced to do something she doesn’t want to do.” Surely Cream wouldn’t do that to me.

The binder listed chores that should be done every day, including dishes, basic cleanup, dusting, sweeping, and mopping. The floor was so time-consuming, but it gave us a chance to talk about things as we worked side by side.

Special tasks the binder mentioned included washing the windows, laundry, organization, polishing the silver, washing the crystal, and a variety of other tasks. For our extra chore, we picked washing the windows, which turned into an ordeal. They were from the floor to the ceiling, requiring a ladder.

“We are going to keep this place sparkling,” Cream said, sounding like she relished the task. “He’s going to be so pleased.”

I didn’t respond to that, spraying my bottle of glass cleaner as I concentrated on balancing. It was hard to be on the ladder, clearing the window of dust and smudges. Andrew’s home was at the top of his building, which afforded a lot of incredible views. My only problem was that I had terrible vertigo. I couldn’t look down at all without getting sick and dizzy. I was afraid I’d fall from the ladder if I so much glanced at the street, hundreds of feet below us.

“Are you sure you’re okay up there?” Cream asked, putting her hands on her hips and looking up at me. “You’re looking a little green.”

“I’m fine,” I said, waving away her concerns with my paper towel. “You can do the next pane and I’ll hand you up the supplies.”

“Fair enough,” Cream said, shrugging. “At least we’re not those guys.”

She pointed at an adjacent building and I fought the urge to gag. A pair of window cleaners were standing in a scaffolding, washing and drying the outside windows of a very tall building.

“And that would be the end of me,” I said, concentrating on my windowpane and only my windowpane.

“Are you afraid you’d fall?” Cream asked. “It looks like they have some kind of railing.”

“No,” I said. “I’d probably just die of a heart attack.”

Cream laughed. “Poor Pumpkin. You’re afraid of heights.”

“Terrified,” I confirmed grimly.

“You should’ve told me,” she said. “Come on. Get down from that ladder. There’s no need to torture yourself. I can do the ladder work if you get everything down low.”

Being on the floor didn’t help much. I still had to look down to the street as I wiped, but at least there was no danger of fainting and falling from the ladder.

We finished with our chores in plenty of time, so we went to our bedroom to organize our new belongings.

“Let’s get all glamorous for dinner,” Cream proposed, clapping her hands together and looking like a little girl excited over playing a game.

“All right,” I said, shrugging. We had our showers and did our hair and makeup. I couldn’t help but think back on the last night we’d done this—at Jason’s place, before he’d sold us.

“I really want to impress Andrew tonight,” Cream said. “Do you know any over the top recipes? My brother and I pretty much existed on ramen noodles.”

“What about the tacos that I first made at Mama’s?” I asked.

“Perfect,” Cream said. “Those are so different and delicious. Let’s look beautiful for him and have those all piping hot and ready when he walks in the door.”

It was easy to get caught up in Cream’s enthusiasm. I found myself wanting to please Andrew, hoping that he loved the tacos, putting extra care into flavoring the oil with spices before dipping the tacos in to fry.

The entire home was fragrant with the smell of them by the time Andrew opened the door.

“I could smell it all the way down at the elevator,” he said, licking his lips. “What in the world is it?”

“Puerto Rican tacos,” Cream said, beaming as she put the last plate of them on the table. “Pumpkin’s very own recipe.”

“I’m afraid you all are going to make me fat and complacent,” Andrew said, patting his belly after he took the first bite. “Two beautiful women and delicious food. These tacos are amazing.”

I flushed with pleasure. “I’m glad you like them,” I said. I surprised myself with my sincerity. I actually was truly happy that he thought they were delicious. I wondered at myself and what this meant. Did I actually care about Andrew?

Cream and I watched television as Andrew went over a dossier of something from his job. I watched him out of the corner of my eye as he frowned, going over several pages of something I couldn’t see. What made him tick? And how did he survive in the business world—or the real world, for that matter—if he had been in that seedy basement, bidding on us?

Had he done something like that before? Or were we the first women he’d ever purchased?

Andrew seemed normal enough, if a little controlling. Perhaps Cream had it right—he was normal, but just had rules. He was obviously successful. They probably worked. Maybe I wasn’t giving him enough of a chance to prove himself to me. Maybe I needed to open myself up before he would.

For all my thoughts, I was still relieved when Cream left the room to be with him for the night—not me.

“Are you sure you won’t come with me?” she implored. “It would make Andrew so happy.”

“Not tonight,” I said, shaking my head.

“He’s going to start getting suspicious,” Cream warned, and I wondered what she knew as she shut the door.

They were especially loud that night, I couldn’t help but notice. Cream had a filthy mouth on her and was full of creative suggestions. I wondered if he was doing each and every one of them to her, or if she was just building the mood.

For some of the suggestions, I couldn’t help but be aroused. I imagined them together, drawing pictures in my mind of their coupling. It was hot, even though I felt a little embarrassed at my imagination. Neither of them had to know what I was thinking. My fantasies were safe in my head.

Besides, I encouraged myself, being attracted to the thought of them now would help me later, when I did decide to sleep with Andrew.

I slipped my hand beneath the lacy hem of my teddy, running the very tip of my finger between my lips gently.

“Harder, baby!” Cream cried. “Right there!”

My breath caught in my throat as I imagined her tossing her beautiful brown hair, Andrew pounding her with his apparently prodigious cock. My fingers gingerly massaged my clitoris, building up to a rhythm I knew well.

“You’re gonna make me come,” she moaned. “Oh God. You’re so fucking kinky. Yes. Yes!”

With one of my hands occupied, I sucked on two of the fingers of my other hand, enjoying the sensation while thoroughly wetting them. Lubricated, they slipped easily into my slickening pussy, probing deep as I imagined the look on Andrew’s face as he pushed into Cream, the sheen of the sweat on their bodies, the way they grabbed at each other.

I twisted beneath the covers, rolling onto my stomach so I could fuck myself harder with my fingers. My breasts pressed up against the bed, and I imagined it was Andrew’s hands on them, fondling them.

Cream gave a heart-rending scream and Andrew shouted out with her, their voices mingling as they came together. I screwed my eyes shut and squeezed my inner muscles, my hands pushing furiously against my body.

I muffled my own moan with my pillow as Andrew and Cream’s cries of completion died down. I removed my fingers from my pussy as the last sweet strums of orgasm resounded through my body. Sleep was instantaneous.

I don’t know what woke me up, but I was awake immediately. Someone was in the room with me.

“Pumpkin?”

“Andrew?” I asked softly, my voice a little thick despite my alertness.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he said. “Well, I guess I did. I came to check on you. That was my original plan. Cream’s asleep and I wanted to make sure you were, too, but I guess I wanted to talk. Can we?”

“Sure,” I said.

I padded out of the room after him, my pussy still feeling wet and warm from my little pleasure session. I wondered how long I’d been asleep for. The kitchen clock told me it was just after five in the morning.

“Do you usually wake up this early?” I asked, squinting at the sudden glare as he flipped the lights on.

“Sometimes,” he said, getting the espresso machine going. “When I have something on my mind.” I watched him for a moment. He was handsome in the way just-fucked men were—his hair tousled from the bed, cotton pants accentuating the shape of his body beneath the thin fabric, a T-shirt barely containing his muscles. Maybe I’d sleep with him soon. Maybe sooner than soon. He looked deliriously good.