The Lovers (10 page)

Where has all this honesty come from, suddenly? Maybe it's that this whole Audrey thing has opened me up, and now
I find it hard to lock my emotions back down tight. I don't want to. That's what I'm trying to say, but whether for his benefit or my own, I don't quite know.

He's quiet a moment, still watching me, and I am still melting a little beneath his green gaze. Then he says, “So, you do talk to me.”

I can't help but smile. “Apparently.”

“Good.” He smiles back, a slightly crooked quirk of his lush lips. “I hope you'll keep doing it.”

I'm embarrassed now. Blushing. And when he reaches out and touches a fingertip to my chin I go hot all over. Blazing.

“I like you, Bettina,” he says, his smile widening, and I am flustered into silence again.

I'm saved from having to answer and no doubt saying something foolish by Patrice and Kenneth carrying the mostly empty platters and bowls of food into the kitchen.

“You don't have to do the dishes, Bettina,” Patrice says, scolding, but I know she doesn't mean it; that's simply her way.

“Saves me from dish duty.” Kenneth chuckles, going to his favorite lounging spot by the fireplace, next to Sid's dog bed.

And just like that I am drawn into the warm embrace of the group once more. I realize I am feeling separate less and less, that this place, these people, are working. That Terry was right about me coming here. That my earlier thoughts about leaving just because of this thing with Audrey are ludicrous. I don't need to sabotage myself like that. I need to be here.

Jack has nothing to do with it.

Of course he doesn't.

A week has gone by since Jack's arrival. It's been torture. It's been lovely.

I've been really getting into my book, the words flying onto the page. And I've been getting closer with everyone. I've come to know Kenneth's warm humor; he really is the sweetest man. I've talked video games with Leo, become familiar with his quirky sense of humor, something I should have expected from someone who creates horror comics. He's a bit strange, but also delightful, in his way. I've even become more comfortable with Patrice. And Viv is becoming like a big sister. I am dying to talk more with her about Audrey, and about my unexpected feelings for Jack, but something in the way she looks at Jack when she thinks no one is paying attention has made me pause.

I have hardly seen Jack. Or Audrey. They spend a lot of time in his cottage with the red door, or walking on the beach together. I want to know—too badly—what they say to each other when they're alone. I want to know the way they touch each other. I spend every single night in my bed with my vibrator, or getting off using the showerhead. Orgasm after
orgasm, and yet I am more lit up each and every moment than I have ever been in my life. Maybe all that coming just makes it worse. But I cannot help myself. I really can't.

Sometimes I hear them, a few cries and moans over the roar of the surf. I keep my windows open every night, during the regular afternoon naps we all take, hoping to catch some sound, to see them.

Oh, yes, I have stared out my window at the sheer curtains fluttering in the breeze of Jack's open window, dying for even a small glimpse of the two of them, naked bodies pressed together. I feel like a pervert. But I can't stop myself. I have even stood at the window with my vibrator clutched in my hand, pressed to my hard and needy clit, peering through the dark and pretending I can see them fucking.

I am all kinds of messed up. Out of control. I know that. But some part of me wonders if maybe it's time for me to lose some of my tightly held control. That's one of my issues, after all. And how is this hurting anyone?

Part of it is simply that I want them, both of them. I don't know who I want more.

I've been fantasizing about being with them. Audrey. Jack. At the same time. All three of us, arms and legs in a sweaty tangle. And as I sit on Viviane's patio, all of us writing quietly in the late-afternoon sunlight, I am thinking of exactly this scenario: Jack and Audrey in bed, and I am there, between them. Naked flesh, the press of body upon body, hands everywhere, mouths, tongues…

“Oh, yeah!”

I start as Leo yells. Press my damp thighs together beneath my light cotton skirt.

Viviane laughs. “What was that, Leo?”

“It's all working. Coming together. I found a plot hole and suddenly the entire book is gelling.”

“I love when that happens.” Viviane sighs. “Good for you. I wish mine were going as well. I seem to be stuck on this same scene. It's been two days and I can't get past it.”

“Maybe we can help,” Patrice suggests.

Viviane begins to explain where she is in her book, what the issues are, but I can't concentrate. I am in a state of acute arousal, my vivid imagination having wandered a bit too far. I blink, take in a breath, smooth my hair from my face. And find Jack looking at me.

Not just looking, but watching closely. His eyes are a deep, dark green, the bits of gray like silvery flint. Gleaming. And his mouth has gone sort of soft around the edges. He's looking right at me as he tilts his head. His lips part, as though he's about to say something, then he glances to his right, at Audrey. And she's watching me, too, that same expression in her eyes. And suddenly I understand what I'm seeing there. At least I think I do.

Desire.

It goes through me like a shock. My gaze flits back and forth between them, and they exchange a brief glance. And I know that we all feel it, we all know exactly what's going on. And I am on fire, lust burning in my veins like molten honey, hot and sweet and fine.

I lick my dry lips, cross my legs. I'm soaking wet.

I watch as Jack runs a hand over his hair, swallows, his throat working. Audrey puts a hand on his arm, but neither takes their eyes off me. It's as though there is some spell in the air, some bizarre connection between the three of us.

Is this really happening?

“Hey, there!”

Viviane stands as two women step onto the patio, one a tall blonde with spiky hair, the other petite and dark, both of them dressed as Viviane dresses, in jeans and rock-band T-shirts.
I don't know where they came from; I didn't hear a car pull up. But I wouldn't have heard a freight train with Jack and Audrey looking at me the way they were.

Viv hugs the two women, then says, “Everyone, this is Toni and Layla, some friends of mine from L.A. They're having dinner with us tonight.”

Everyone greets them, and we gather up our laptops, our pads of paper, our writing day over. The sun is lowering in the sky, the trees casting long shadows as we all go into the house to begin preparing dinner. Jack is beside me at the island, cutting up vegetables for the salad. And even though there is a good two feet between us, I swear I can feel the heat of his big body. Audrey is flitting around the kitchen. I'm too distracted to tell what it is she's doing. But every time she swings by me I feel a rush, as though my blood is rising up to stretch toward her. Ridiculous, I know, but that's how I feel.

We sit down to eat in the dining room, all of us crowded around the long table. Toni and Layla seem nice, but I'm having a hard time keeping track of the conversation. I'm seated at a corner of the table, with Audrey on my right, and her knee keeps bumping against mine. She looks up now and then, a small smile on her lips, as though we share some sort of secret. And we do. The secret of our desire. Hers, mine and Jack's.

I have no idea what this means. But this is too lovely, this secretive casting of yearning glances between us. Jack is sitting across the table from us, talking to Kenneth, but I catch him watching us from the corner of his eye.

I am trying hard not to tell myself that it's only Audrey he wants. That I am nothing more than some sort of added-on bit of fantasy for him.

Please don't let it be so.

By the time dessert arrives, an enormous bowl of homemade
tiramisu, I am anxious that Jack and Audrey will go off together after dinner, leaving me alone with this pounding ache between my thighs, abandoned to my lonely vibrator once more. I can't stand to think about it.

Dinner is endless, and I try not to resent Viviane's guests. They're awfully nice, and I feel like a total bitch. I just want this to be over. I can't think of a reason to excuse myself, and I won't, anyway, as long as Audrey and Jack are still at the table.

The conversation has moved to Viviane's band days as she and her friends reminisce about her life on the road, about her husband, Malcolm.

“You should have seen her then,” Toni announces. “She was a wild thing.”

“She's still a wild thing,” Kenneth says, laughing.

All I can think of is Audrey in my bed, between my thighs, her dark, silky hair a wild, tangled mass, her lips damp with my juices when she raises her head to look up at me after I come.

“Ha! Hardly,” Viviane says. “I live up here in Santa Barbara, hidden away like some old woman. I'm surprised I don't have a hundred cats.”

“You'll never be an old woman,” Jack says kindly. There is real warmth in his eyes. It makes me like him even more.

Viviane glances away. “Thanks for saying so. But I'm afraid it's true.”

“No, it's not, Viv. Don't be silly.” Layla, who is sitting next to Viviane, puts a hand over hers, shaking her dark head.

I find myself wondering if I detect some chemistry between them. Or is it just that everything seems to have some sexual content to me lately?

I really have to get a grip.

Or I have to get laid.

And as I think this, Audrey puts her hand on my thigh beneath the table and strokes. Upward.

I am not imagining this.

She leans in a little, reaching for the breadbasket, which is on the table in front of me, and whispers, “Meet me in your cottage in an hour.”

I pull back, look at her. She's smiling innocently, as though she hasn't just invited me to have sex with her. I am burning. Uncertain.

She blinks, raises her eyebrows. “Yes?”

I shiver. Nod. “Yes.”

God, yes!

I spend the rest of the meal and kitchen cleanup drinking too much wine too fast. It goes to my head, but I'm already dizzy, anyway, with lust. Dizzy and anxious and wondering if Jack will be upset. And wanting him there.

I feel selfish. Ungrateful. At least I'll have Audrey tonight.

Finally, Audrey leaves the house, and I wait a few minutes before following her. I move over the lit patio, walking down the darkened path to my cottage. The moon is bright over head, silver light peering through the drifting fog. My body is nearly vibrating with the most exquisite anticipation I have ever felt in my life.

As I approach my cottage I can see a light already burning dimly.

Audrey.

I open the door, and she's there. In my bed. Naked.

So is Jack.

My heart stops.

I know that's just an expression, but I swear it comes to a stuttering halt in my chest.

Audrey smiles, holds out her hand to me. “Join us, Bettina.”

“I…what's…I don't understand.”

Oh, but I do. It's just too much for me to absorb, my every fantasy come true, suddenly, and I don't know what the hell to do with it.

But they do.

“We don't mean to startle you,” Jack says, his voice low and a little rough. “We just…wanted to be with you. Do you want us, Bettina?”

I swallow, hard. The sheet is covering his lap, but his bare chest is all firm, lean muscle and tanned skin, with just a sprinkling of dark hair in the center, and a narrow line below his navel. My mouth is watering. And beside him Audrey is all delicate golden flesh, her dark hair flowing over her shoulders, covering part of one full breast. Their nipples are dark and dusky, nearly the same color. My sex gives a good, hard squeeze.

“Yes,” I whisper.

Jack smiles then. So does Audrey. But I am frozen. I want this so much, I can't breathe, can't move.

“I'll help,” Audrey says, rising from the bed.

She comes to me and pulls my shirt over my head, unzips my peasant skirt and pushes it down my legs. I feel vaguely self-conscious, but then Jack is there, too, sitting on the end of the bed, running his fingertips over my belly. Desire is like a knife, cutting deep, and it is as though I am bleeding lust, just seeping from my pores, from my mind, my breasts. And my pussy is as wet as it's ever been in my life.

When I look down at Jack's hand, I can see his cock standing erect between his thighs. And it is every bit as beautiful as the rest of him, a long, hard shaft, perfectly formed, the head dark and swollen.

Hands all over me as they remove my bra, slide my cotton panties down my legs. Being naked feels so right; it's exactly what I need. To be naked. To be touched. I am shivering so hard I can barely stand.

“Come, baby. Get on the bed,” Audrey says, taking my hand.

Jack's hands are on my hips, and I am planning to sit on the side of the bed, uncertain as to what I should be doing, but he helps me settle onto the mattress, laying me back on the pillows.

“We know this is your first time,” Audrey says.

Jack nods. “Just lie back. We'll do everything.”

I moan softly.

Yes, God, do everything… Everything!

My nipples are already so damn hard they hurt. And when Audrey brushes her fingertips over them, I feel absolutely scalded. But it's so, so good. I arch into her touch, needing more. But there's too much going on; things are happening too fast for me to keep track of it all. My body is filled with sensation as Audrey leans in and takes my nipple into her hot, wet mouth, and sucks. And Jack is just stroking my body: my belly, my thighs. His hands are warm, incredible on my naked skin. My sex is pulsing, aching, soaked. Pleasure shimmers over my body, arrowing deep inside.

Someone fuck me, please…

I don't care who it is. I just desperately need one of them to be inside my body, so I know this is real.

Audrey is still working my nipples, going from one to the other, and my hands are buried in her dark, silky hair, holding her there.

I hear Jack whisper, “Beautiful Bettina. Skin like satin,” as he runs his hands over my flesh. “Come on, Bettina. Open for me. Yes, that's it.”

Then his hands are gently pushing my thighs apart, and I let them fall open. There is nothing in me that wants to resist. I feel wanton. Beautiful for the first time in my life, because Jack has told me so. Odd that I believe him. But I do. I don't care about anything but that he finds me beautiful, that and my need, the desire burning me up inside.

His palms are sliding up my thighs, and I lift my head a little to watch him. And find him watching me, his green gaze on my face. His mouth is lush and loose, desire softening his features. He licks his lips, and a jagged bolt of need shoots through me.

He says, his voice low, the words coming out slowly, like satin, like water, “I'm going to go down on you, Bettina. I can't wait. To feel you on my tongue. To taste you. I bet you taste like sugar.”

I moan, unable to speak.

He smiles, and brushes one fingertip over my mound. I arch, squirm.

Audrey lifts her head to kiss my cheek, my lips, briefly. “Oh, this is going to be so good, baby.”

She shifts, until she is lying next to me, her naked body pressed against my side, and she loops one leg over mine, her wet sex open against my thigh. She feels like damp velvet, and I want to touch her, to press my fingers into her hot and eager hole, but I can't move.