The Trouble With Bodyguards: Part 1 (8 page)

              His arms beneath her, Rick rolled them over, laying on his back, with her astride him. Alex sat up, arching her back as she pressed herself down on his throbbing cock, taking him deeply inside her. He watched her as she rode him, gazing at her beauty, the setting sun sparkling off the moisture glistening on her pale skin. Reaching up, he grasped her hips with his strong hands, lifting her, thrusting up into her, the tip of his cock touching her very center, making her pant and moan with each movement of his body.

              She spread out on top of him, her legs surrounding him, and slid herself against him, rubbing her most sensitive places against him, and kissed his neck, her breath hot and ragged in his ear. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close to him as their bodies writhed together in passion.

              He leaned down, forcing his mouth down on hers, kissing her passionately, and Alex's body seized with pleasure, tightly gripping him, pulsing violently as he pounded into her. She cried out, pleasure searing through her as she climaxed. Her body was bucking, thrashing with his as he slammed into her, chasing his own pleasure in the midst of her chaos. Her body pulsed around him, clutching at him, moisture spilling from her as she cried out. Again and again she seized, sitting astride him, her body reaching for the heavens. He froze, his body going rigid as he spilled the heat of his orgasm deeply inside her.

              He fell on her, panting, and kissed her gently on the side of her face. Sliding to her side, they both lay panting, spent from their lovemaking, glistening with sweat, as the last rays of the setting sun darkened in the night sky.

              Alex awoke with the dawning of the sun, opening her eyes to see the first glimmers of light brightening the gray of a cloud-covered sky. She stretched, yawning widely, and pulled the covers tightly up around her face. She closed her eyes again, enjoying the snuggled warmth of the bed, thinking of drifting back off to sleep.

              Suddenly, the happenings of the previous day filled her thoughts. Images of the office, the meeting, the picture, the police.... and Rick. Rick kissing her, Rick naked standing before her, Rick's body on hers as they both climaxed. Oh fuck.

              What had she done? Rick was supposed to be her bodyguard, her father's employee, not some man for her to fall into bed with. How was she going to handle this? She quickly looked over at the other side of the bed, sighing in relief to find that he was not there, sleeping. She didn't want him here right now; she needed to get her head straight before she tried to talk to him this morning.

              Great, now she needed to pee.

              Sitting up, she willed herself to ignore the call of nature, she needed to think. He was here, in the apartment, and she didn't know what she was going to say to him. Fuck fuck fuck. Was this a thing? Were they supposed to be in a relationship now? Or was it just a man trying to comfort a woman who was hysterical and in need of comforting? Fuck. She was naked, she noticed as she looked down at herself, the blankets having fallen away from her.

              She jumped out of bed, searching around the room for something to put on. She knew that she would have to talk to him sooner or later, and it would be much easier to do if she were wearing clothes. Pulling an oversized t-shirt over her head, she grabbed a pair of yoga pants out of the drawer and slipped them on. She hoped that he wasn't one of those guys who went gaga over women in exercise gear. She knew that they existed; it was almost a fetish nowadays.

              Crossing to the bedroom door, she listened intently, trying to pick up the slightest sound, any sign that he was up and about in the apartment. She hoped that he was still asleep, locked in his room, that she could sneak out to the bathroom, relieve her screaming bladder, and snag her laptop. She had to get started on some ideas for the Maybelline project; she could shut herself up in her room for at least a few hours. It would give her a chance to think.

              Hearing nothing, Alex slowly opened the door, peeking into the main room of the apartment. She scanned what she could see of the living room and kitchen, seeing nothing, and darted to the bathroom door, her bare feet silent on the wood floor.

              As she reached for the handle, the knob turned, and Rick opened the door. Alex froze, her breath held, unsure of what to do or say.

              “Good morning,” Rick said, before stepping past her, heading for the kitchen.

              “Um,” Alex said, hesitating. “Good Morning.” She didn’t know what she expected, for him to wrap his arms around her, kissing her passionately? For him to be in the kitchen cooking a romantic breakfast in bed for her? Strange, that a curt ‘good morning’ was all he said to her, after the night that they had had together. She watched his back as he crossed to the sink, filled a cup with water and poured it into the coffee maker, went about his morning routine, not paying her any attention at all. Her bladder screamed for attention, and she darted into the bathroom, shutting the door hard behind her.

              A few minutes later, she emerged from the bathroom, her face washed, hair combed and tied back, and her teeth sparkling clean. She walked into the kitchen, past where Rick was seated on a barstool at the island sipping his coffee and staring at the screen of his cell phone. Pulling a cup from the cupboard, she filled it at the sink and started a cup of coffee for herself. As it was brewing she turned to him. “Um,” she said weakly before clearing her throat and beginning again. “How did you sleep?”

              “Fine,” he said, not looking up from the phone. “I got an email from the officer in charge of your stalker case. He said that the fingerprints on the photographs were all from us, as I expected. He wants to see us in his office tomorrow.”

              “Oh,” she said, crestfallen. Calling the police had gotten them nowhere. There was no way that they could help her. She slumped against the counter, hanging her head. Tears threatened to spill over. The whole situation was hopeless.

              “Are you planning on going to the office today?” Rick asked her, coming behind the counter and rinsing his cup in the sink before putting it into the dishwasher. He didn’t come to her, didn’t put his arms around her for comfort. He didn’t even make eye contact with her as she turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

              “What?” she said, sniffling. “No, I don’t want to go anywhere. I can work from here today.”

              “Good,” Rick replied, turning to head toward his room. He returned a moment later, a black jacket over his shirt, his gun holster tucked beneath, barely visible. He pulled his keys from his pocket, heading for the door. “Stay here,” he said. “Keep the doors and windows locked.”

              She sniffled, tears streaming down her face. She didn’t want to be left alone, not now. She was feeling hopeless, and afraid. She ached for him to put his arms around her, comfort her and keep her warm, but he was leaving, and in a hurry. This was so much worse than she had expected. She had thought that they might have a moment of awkwardness, dancing around the issue of what last night’s lovemaking had meant, what was to become of them now. She didn’t expect him to be so cold, unfeeling, uncaring. “Where are you going?” she asked, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand.

              “I have something I have to do,” he said, pulling open the door. He walked out, shutting the door firmly behind him and turning both the door lock and the deadbolt, securing her inside. He stood, his hand on the door, his heart screaming. He shouldn’t have made love to her last night. He needed to protect her, keep her safe. If he let his guard down, then she would get hurt, or worse. That’s what had happened last time; things had gotten out of control. He had lost control, and wasn’t able to stop it.

              One of the fluorescent bulbs in the waiting room at the hospital was about to go dark. The incessant buzzing dug a hole in Rick’s patience as he waited to be summoned to the back room to speak with the doctors. He had been here multiple times over the years, and it always seemed as though something was broken, this dilapidated building crumbling down as the patients wandered the halls, lost in their own nightmares.

              A nurse, wearing the same starched white uniform of countless women before her, stepped through a door leading deeper into the hell that was this place, searched the room, and gave Rick a sympathetic smile. She recognized him. They always did. He could see the pity in their eyes each time he arrived.

              “He's waiting for you, Mr. Andrews,” she said, holding the door open, permitting him entry to the hall beyond. Rick stood, his discontentment visible in the creases of his forehead, and crossed the threshold into the home of insanity.

              White tile floors, chipped at the edges, marked by years of the incessant pacing of wandering footsteps, led through a hall of unmarked doors, each the same, closed and locked against curious minds. He turned his head as he walked past, nodding hello at the orderlies crowding around a small television in the nurses’ station, enjoying a moment of normalcy, few and far between in their world. The gate to his left, leading to the day room and the patients’ rooms beyond, was perpetually locked, opened only for the occasional visitor, or to accept a new member to the family of crazy that lived here, spending their lives together, lost in their own worlds or drugged to the point of emptiness.

              At the end of the long hallway, a solitary door was labelled with a brass plaque, the name of the head psychiatrist printed upon it. Rick new the lettering on the sign. He had traced it with his fingertip, awaiting the man on the other side to allow him entry. He rapped his knuckles softly against the wood, and a voice called to him. He didn't want to go in there, deal with this, not again. But he reached for the ancient brass door knob, turned it, and pushed the door inward.

              Alex wandered down a dark alley, her stomach clenched in fear, blood running ice cold in her veins. She couldn't breathe, panting and clutching at her chest, the pain there unbearable. Where was Rick? Wasn't he supposed to be keeping her safe? Why was she here, alone, in this dark place? Stumbling, she caught herself before falling into a pile of garbage, scraping her hand against the dingy brick of an old building. Her palm was bleeding, the skin broken, and she held it against her sweater as she made her way toward the pale light emanating from the end of the corridor.

              She stepped out into a part of town that she was unfamiliar with, the buildings surrounding her foreign and unfriendly places. She went up to a shop, trying the handle, only to find it locked, barring her entry. She had to find someone who could help her, someone who would tell her where she was, someone that could help her get home. Walking down the dismally empty street, she peered in each window she passed, seeing not a single person in any of them. Where was everybody?

              In the distance, she saw movement. Walking quickly, she called out, “Hello! Hey, wait a minute! I need help, I'm lost and I've been injured!” She quickened her pace, jogging toward what she could now see was a man, dressed in dark clothes, waiting on the sidewalk at a crosswalk for the light to change. Strange, she thought, that he would wait. There was no traffic, not a single car on the road in sight. She broke into a run as she saw him step out into the street, running toward him. She felt that he was her only chance, the only person in the world that could help her. She needed to catch up to him, before he disappeared.

              “Hey,” she cried. “Hey, wait!” She sprinted, her chest tight, the pain radiating through her body, bolts of electricity burning through her with every step. “Stop! Wait!”

              The man halted in the middle of the empty street, alerted by her cries for help. He turned to her, his face filled with concern. Alex caught up to him, panting from exertion, her bloodied hand held to her chest, throbbing with pain.

              He turned to her, devoid of expression, and she noticed that his eyes were completely black, no whites visible. Fear flooded her, stealing her breath, as she realized that this man, the only person who could rescue her from this empty and forbidding landscape, was the very stalker that she was attempting to escape.

              He opened his mouth, his teeth sharpened to points, glistening with fresh blood from feasting on his victims, and snarled at her in a deep, raspy voice, “You are mine.”

              Alex screamed, her voice breaking in fear, choking her, as she wrestled frantically to escape from the blankets covering her. Tears streamed down her face as she fought to catch her breath, sitting up in her bed, pulling herself from the nightmare that had taken her so completely into the fear that she was suffering that she could not seem to get away from it. She leapt up from the bed, staring at her palms, expecting to see blood, broken skin, where there was only pink, healthy skin, glistening with the sweat that was covering her entire body, her clothes clinging to her.

              She slumped, her legs going weak beneath her, and sat back down on her bed. She tried to calm her heart, pounding in her chest, her breathing coming easier as she came fully awake. The sun was setting, the room going dark around her, as she wept openly.

              She had fallen asleep. When Rick had gone, leaving her alone and afraid in the apartment by himself, so cold to her after their night together, she had felt lost. She had wept, sitting there on the kitchen floor, unsure of what she could do. There was a monster after her, watching her, and she was on her own. Wiping away her tears, she had tried to work, moving into the bedroom, double-checking the window to assure herself that she was safe. The pictures had been a blur; she could not concentrate on work with her mind in such a jumble of chaos. Somewhere amidst the tears and the confusion, her body had shut down, seeking solace in the comfort of sleep, but that had gotten her nowhere. She was shaking now with fear, with no one to turn to.

              Had he come back, she wondered, while she was asleep? She needed to talk to him, needed to see where they stood. Did he regret making love to her last night? Alex stood up, wiping the tears from her face, and headed for the bedroom door.

              He was sitting at the kitchen counter, a plate in front of him, eating a slice of pizza. Alex wondered if he had heard her scream, and if so, why he had not come to rescue her from the danger.

              “Hi,” she said, standing in the open doorway of her room, her arms crossed over her chest for comfort. It was awkward, being in the same room with him, not knowing where they stood.

              “Hi,” he replied, not looking to her. “I got a pizza. Are you hungry?”

              “Kinda,” she said, walking toward him. She wanted to touch him, to reach out to him for comfort. She wanted him to put his strong arms around her, kiss her gently, and tell her that everything was going to be all right. That he had taken care of everything, and that she had nothing to fear. He didn't, instead taking another bite of his pizza and sipping at a can of soda. Alex settled herself on the stool next to him, reaching for a slice of the pizza and setting it on the counter in front of her. She picked at the food, putting small bites in her mouth, convincing her body to accept the sustenance, even though she was not really tasting it.

              “When did you get back?” she asked, putting an olive in her mouth.

              “About twenty minutes ago,” he said, looking at his watch. He didn't turn to her, just continued to eat. It pained her, this cold silence of his. She would rather they were screaming at each other, their passion turning to anger, than enduring this chilled small talk.

              “About last night,” she said, reaching out a hand and gently touching his shoulder.

              “Listen,” he said, abruptly turning to her, frustration burning in his eyes. “Let's forget about last night. It was a bad idea. Your father hired me to protect you, not to be your boyfriend.”

              “I…” she said, hesitating. Her heart was searing in her chest. She felt betrayed, rejected. She wanted to be close to him, to wrap herself around him, and he was shoving her away with both hands. It felt like a slap to the face. Tears threated to well up in her eyes, as her breath caught in her throat.

              “Fine,” she said, standing. “Forget it.” She walked to her bedroom door, not wanting him to see the tears spilling down her cheeks. She went into her room, closing the door softly behind her.

              Rick pushed his pizza away from him, frustration and anger boiling inside him. He held his head in his hands, feeling nauseous for having to say that to her. He wanted to go to her, pull her to his chest, and wipe the tears from her eyes. He cared for her greatly – he might even love her. Fuck, who knows. There had been something, since the first time that he had laid eyes on her, that had drawn him to her. He hated this, being stuck in this situation. It would be easier if he could just leave, just walk away and never think about her ever again, but he couldn't do that. Not now, not when things were so uncertain.

              He thought about his discussion with the doctor today. The medications were not doing what they had hoped. The delusions had returned. Without diligence and supervision, someone was going to get hurt. He didn't want to have to go the hospitalization route again, it hadn't worked out well last time; in fact, it had made everything so much worse.

              He needed to handle this carefully. If he let himself love her, be with her, then he would leave himself open to mistakes, and that could end in pain for all of them. Rick pounded his fist against the countertop, walking away from his meal and heading into his room, shutting the door behind him.