The Secret Keeping (13 page)

“Slower. Slower then…darling.”

Slower. Helaine relaxed her legs. Slow. She clamped her hand over her mouth. Slow, slow, slow, slow, slow, slow, slow, slow.

“Love,” Sharon whispered. “God, I missed you.”

Pleasure. Nine months. Helaine moaned.

“Ahh…you’re a slut, Dr. Kristenson,” Sharon murmured, kissing her shoulders and neck. “Do it for me.

Masturbate.”

Helaine shook her head.

“Pretend I’m someone else.”

She would not. “Let go of me, Sharon.”

“Never. Did you miss me?”

Her legs were closing once more. They were forced open again.

“Want to hear some highlights from my trip, Dr. Kristenson?”

Helaine winced.

No reply. Sharon pushed deeper inside her. “Lift,” she demanded.

“I…my feet.”

Sharon inched her further down. “Bend, Helaine.”

“I can’t.”

“There,” Sharon urged, placing a pillow under her stomach. “Now bend.”

“You’re going to hurt me...?”

“No. Bend for me. Put your knee here.”

Helaine lifted her knee. Sharon pushed. “You didn’t answer me.”

“You’re–why are you–”

“Say more, like you missed me. More, darling.”

NO.

“More, Helaine. Then I’ll be gentle.”

“I’m–I’m…more.”

“More, darling.”

“Shar–”

Sharon dropped her weight.

Pressure. Too much pressure. “More, darling,” Helaine finally whispered, “gentle.”

“Gentle what?” Sharon nudged.

“Gentle, darling....”

Slow and gentle and more.

“Say it, Helaine.”

Her legs ached. “What–more?” She regretted letting Sharon in tonight.

“Fuck me–say it.”

Helaine buried her face into the sheets. Pain more than pleasure now. Sharon’s face was close to her own.

She turned away from it. “Fuck me,” she muttered, clenching her fists.

“Italy. Beautiful country, Helaine.”

Helaine sucked in sharply.

“Italy, dear doctor.”

Pressure. Helaine cried out.

Such a beautiful count–”

“Shar–”

“Warm. Affectionate blonds,” Sharon teased, now stroking Helaine’s sex.

Helaine let out an anguished sigh, a series of muffled sobs. Then silence. Sharon held her closer. “So fucking beautiful. Such a beautiful little–” she backed her body into hers. “You’re so w–”

“Sharon, Jesus…please…please, don’t talk to me anymore.” Her arms and legs felt broken. She let them fall slack.

“Dr. Kristenson?”

Helaine pressed her mouth into her arm and made a sound in her throat.

“Beautiful,” Sharon murmured into the blond hair. “Beautiful,” she said again, removing her hand from Helaine’s stomach and stroking between her own legs. “Helaine,” she called softly.

_____

When Sharon finally rolled off of her, Helaine lay for a moment where she was left, no sound, no movement, then, nauseous and shivering, she crawled back to the center of the bed and lay there on her stomach, the sheets bunched at her sides and in her face. On the floor she could see her rumpled clothes, left where Sharon had dropped them. In a minute she would be able to stand again, she hoped, and she seriously considered getting dressed and leaving. Behind her she could sense Sharon hovering, but she didn’t have the energy to face her. She felt her hands closing her legs together. She shut her eyes, hid her face in a dampened pillow and listened to her heart beating in her eardrums. It sounded like the ocean. The deep blue sea. Maybe she could sleep. Her sentiments were irreparable though she may not have known it yet. She hoped that Sharon wouldn’t dare make love to her now. She throbbed with discomfort. Her clitoris hurt, the desire to be satisfied there completely gone. Maybe Sharon would leave instead.

Sharon sat down next to her, waiting for her to say something. Helaine lifted herself silently from the bed and stood beside it in a torpor, her color washed out by the harsh light of the room. She squinted. The goddamned lights. They always had to be on for this, she thought, avoiding eye contact. Spotlights for these few-and-far-betweens, these…whatevers. Sharon slid to the edge of the bed, studying her, and Helaine turned from her view although from the corner of her eye she could still see her, watching, grinning indecently, waiting, Helaine was sure, to make her next move.

All these miserable games, Helaine thought, measuring the distance to the bathroom. Ten feet. She steadied herself and started walking.

Sharon stood up, her interest renewed. She left the bed and followed in after Helaine, washing her hands at the sink and then blocking the doorway while Helaine quietly examined her own reflection and avoided her gaze.

The air was thick with bad energy and the sight of the toppled blond in the mirror made Helaine feel fainter. She shuddered. There was something sinister about the red traces of lipstick around the woman’s nipples. Disassociated from her, there seemed to be three women in the small bathroom and Helaine suddenly felt trapped and claustrophobic in there, ashamed of her own silence, threatened by the figure looming in the doorway.

“That was awful, Sharon. What in the world is the matter with you?”

Sharon shifted in agitation. She looked poisonous, but said nothing.

“Are you this rough with–”

“Oh, c’mon. Who the fuck is it, Helaine?”

“Who is–?”

“Don’t give me that shit. Who the fuck is it?”

Helaine was still dazed and it took her a moment to fully understand. She stood dumbfounded. How ridiculous she felt. An image darted into her mind and feeling scandalized by the suggestion she put it out hurriedly while the specter of a double standard glared at her from the doorway.

“Sharon,” she said incredulously, “you must be joking.”

Sharon scoffed. “No, I don’t joke, Helaine. Is it a man or a woman?”

“A–why would you think that?” Helaine was eager to get dressed again. She eyed Sharon anxiously. “You know me better than that.”

“Two hours, Helaine? Two hours before asking me to fuck you?”

Helaine attempted to pass through the doorway without commenting, but Sharon stopped her with her arm. She distrusted her now, stepped backwards. “Why should I have to ask you, Sharon? Why do I need to?”

Sharon smiled a ruthless grin. “Because I like it that way.”

“You like it that way? Watching the clock for two hours and…?” Helaine felt vulnerable in the doorway.

Sharon grabbed her around the waist and she covered her breasts to protect them.

“He, Dr. Kristenson?” She pushed the hair from Helaine’s eyes. “Or she?”

Helaine stared back in disbelief. She had no desire to pursue it. She extricated herself and slipped past Sharon, back into the bedroom for her clothes.

Sharon was not about to drop the subject. “Why didn’t you come, Helaine?”

Why didn’t she? Playing all evening, trying to counterfeit her orgasm, trying to get her to come without penetration, brutalizing her– “Why the hell are you here?”

“Why didn’t you look for me at the flat?” Sharon demanded.

Helaine snatched a robe from the closet. “Why aren’t you ever there when I need you?” She didn’t like the sound of her own voice anymore.

Sharon looked triumphant. “I’m here now,” she said defiantly.

Indeed. Helaine clutched the robe to her chest and sat down on the end of the bed, wrapping it around her shoulders. She studied Sharon Chambers, her magazine grin, her million dollar smile. It was a caricature of the intelligent one she used to have when they had first met. Sharon had changed it, enhancing her lips, improving her teeth, fixing everything she thought was wrong about her. In reality, she had no character left.

It was gone. In its place was now a terrible perfection, the look of an exotic orchid cultivated indoors artificially, perishable out of its own glass house and incapable of thriving in a garden. The sly smile was now just a bit of a snarl. Her smart looks reduced to nothing more than raw animal cunning.

Character. It seemed Ms. Chambers couldn’t even distinguish right from wrong anymore. Never apologized. Helaine stared at her, wondering if it might occur to her to do so, but Sharon just smiled that crass magazine grin back at her. The most-beautiful-girl-in-the-world grin.

Tonight Sharon seemed to be wearing that title with a sort of tired pride. There was something dark lurking in those beautiful eyes, a look of chilling introspection. Helaine shivered. She could feel sorrow creeping up in her again. It came from a heavy womb and flowed into her heart.

“Sharon, I–”

The phone rang in the adjoining room. Sharon glanced over her shoulder and back and her eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Shame on you, Dr. Kristenson. You were expecting someone?”

“Of course not.” Three rings. Helaine rose from the bed to answer it.

“Why isn’t the machine on?” Sharon snapped.

“Because I’m here.” Sharon was blocking her exit. “I have to answer it.”

Sharon beat her there. “Hello,” she said brusquely, holding Helaine off with her hand.

“Sharon, give it to me.”

“Helaine?”

“She’s a little tied up right now. Who’s calling?”

“Sharon, give me my phone!”

“Oh, really? Does she need me to call the police?”

“Who the hell is this?” Sharon demanded.

“Robert Keagan. That would be esquire to you. Put Helaine on, please.”

Sharon handed over the phone. “Keagan Esquire,” she muttered.

“Good evening?” Helaine answered, aware it came out strained.

“Helaine? Robert here. I see your prodigal brute has returned.”

“Yes. How are you?” She kept one eye on Sharon.

“We wanted to invite you out for dinner. Kay loved Frank’s. But I guess you’ll be in hiding for awhile?”

She could not discuss this now. “You’ll have to call me at the office Monday. I don’t have my appointment book in front of me,” she said in a hollow tone. She watched Sharon pacing like a warrior.

“Uh, I see. Okay. I should call on Monday?”

“Yes. That will be fine.” She had lost sight of Sharon. “Yes, Monday then. Monday, Robert. I’ll talk to you then.”

“I hate that woman. You should see what she does to you.”

She glanced into the mirror beside the desk. Yes, she saw it.

“We’re in the middle of something here,” Sharon interrupted.

“Thanks for calling, Robert. Say hi to Kay for me.”

“Monday. I will. Talk to you then.”

She put the phone down and turned on the answering machine.

“He hates me, doctor. Why is that? Are you having an affair with him?”

Helaine sighed. “He’s my lawyer, that’s all. And an old friend. I have them you know.” Her taut voice. She pulled the robe on the rest of the way and tied it. “You cannot answer my phone. If it was a client–we agreed on that. I do not interfere in your life. Why are you bullying me tonight?”

Sharon smirked. “You do not have the right to fuck around while I’m away. I will interfere with that. You can count on it.”

Helaine was taken aback. “I do not fuck around. What about you, Sharon?” She was not herself. “Weren’t you going to brag to me about your Italian excursions?”

“I did Italy, Dr. Kristenson. How does that feel? You know about it, I hope?”

Yes, she had heard all about Italy. Yes, she had caught wind of it and even her friends were talking. She knew it all anyway, without having to be told or reminded, without having it thrown in her face. She folded her arms and stared at her feet.

“You better not be fucking around on me, Helaine.”

“Sharon? How is it that you can but I can’t?”

Sharon shook her head and laughed.

“That is what you’re telling me, right?” Helaine asked. “That I shouldn’t even think of it?”

“I can because I am the Sharon Chambers. You can’t because you are the Dr. Kristenson.”

Helaine saw her grin again and looked away. It was a sad confrontation, a poor substitute for what she had been longing. The Sharon Chambers. She searched the woman’s face for her lover, the one that had somehow gotten away, eluded the both of them. Could she still be in there, behind that animal grin? Did she love that animal? Did that animal love her or did it just like the taste of her? It smiled back inscrutably.

Demons and skeletons, Helaine was thinking. That’s her real essence. And ghosts that haunted the creature by day and night. Here’s a ghost: her father, leaving a wife and a little one to fend for themselves.

Here’s another one: a beautiful mother. And a beautiful daughter. The Chambers women. They were estranged. How long now, fifteen years? A mother banishing her daughter.

Two beauties in the same house, in an unholy battle for the illicit affections of the same man. It was not the oddest scenario the good doctor had ever heard about, but it was still quite tragic. Mother and daughter in a battle, youth gaining the upper hand, for a suitor who was taking his pleasure at the expense of both of them. That was Sharon’s cross, an ugly secret that the press would never hear about. No, not that Sharon Chambers’ first paramour belonged to her mother, but rather her broken heart over the resulting loss of her mother’s affections. Probably the only thing her heart would break over. Ugly secrets, everybody had them, but here was a secret so secret that even Sharon didn’t know about it.

A shudder again. Sharon grinned like a skull does. Involuntary. Of course she did, like a skull hidden by skin, she was hiding from herself and her secret, masked in a brand new smile, disguised in a stranger’s face.

A smile or a snarl or a sneer. Who cares as long as it’s different than the real one, the one she was born with?

Couldn’t she be happy now, now that she no longer bore any resemblance to anyone, now that she wouldn’t have to see her mother’s face always glaring back at her in the mirror?

Sure she could, if happiness, like beauty, was only skin deep.

Sharon’s expression had softened somewhat. Helaine tried to smile for her. “There is no one, darling.

Believe me. I wouldn’t do that to you,” she assured. “Please,” she said, signaling for her to sit beside her.

“Take this off for me.”

Sharon slipped the robe off, pushed her backwards into the sheets and pillows. Warily the legs opened again and Sharon lay between them. Weak from struggling, Helaine draped her arms around her lover’s neck and, as was customary, whispered her name to her, sighing it gently into the silky dark hair, sighing with relief when, without hesitation, Sharon finally entered her.