Wanted (8 page)

I
open the door and poke my head in and she’s laying on her belly with her face
buried into the pillow.  Her body is shaking with sobs.  I’m not sure
what to do for her.  I take my chances and sit next to her on the
bed.  I reach out to touch her and hesitate a moment before I decide that
right now, I’m the only one she has and I want to be there for her.  I
touch her back with my hand and she doesn’t flinch.  I rub softly in
circles until her cries soften.

“Vanessa?”

“Please
leave me alone!”

“Please,
listen to me.  I have an idea.  It’s not the greatest idea but can
you please look at me?”  She sits up and wipes the tears from her
eyes.  “Write your Mom a note telling her you’re okay. The police can’t
track a letter but your Mom will know you’re okay.  We’ll figure this out
and you’ll be home soon.  I promise.  At least your Mom won’t think
the worst.”

She
nods her head. “Okay. I just want her to know I’m okay.”

“Come
here.”  I reach my arms towards her wanting to hold her to me.

Neither
of us move and there is an awkward silence but then she leans forward and wraps
her arms around my neck and rests her head on my shoulder.  She smells
good, not all Old Spice but something else.  Her body is warm against
me.  I squeeze my arms around her and then place a kiss on her shoulder.
We remain in an embrace for quite a while. 

“Do
you want to write that letter?”

“Yes.”
She breathes out.

We
sit at the table together.  I trust she won’t do something stupid but I
watch her anyway.

Mom,

I’m not hurt.  I’m safe.  I promise I’ll
be home soon. 

I love you,

Vanessa

“Is
that okay?”  She asks.

I
just nod.  “When we go out tomorrow, I’ll put it in the mail.”  I have
to distract both of us from this mess.  It is Christmas Day and I think we
need to make the best of it.  “So, I was thinking maybe we could cook some
popcorn and string it on the tree.  What do you think?”

“Okay,
I’m gonna take a shower first.  Can I borrow another t-shirt?”

“No
problem.”  I answer her calmly but the thought of her in the shower again,
knowing exactly what she looks like nude with water dripping from her body, is
making me stiff again.  I need a fucking release and my hand isn’t doing the
job anymore.  She needs her own shirts soon.

While
Vanessa’s in the shower, I decide to get started on the popcorn.  She
isn’t in there long before I hear the door open.  I turn to her and do a
double-take.  She’s not wearing pants!  Fuck!  Her hair is
dripping wet making the front of my t-shirt cling to her tits.  The cold
air is stiffening her nipples which I can plainly see through the shirt. 
I am so wound up, I actually feel angry.

“What
the hell are you wearing?”  I ask irritably, my eyes drifting to her bare
legs.

“What? 
It’s like a dress and your sweatpants were really hard to keep on.  Is
there a problem?”

“No.” 
I turn back around to discover the popcorn is burned.  Shit.   I
start all over again but first I have to adjust my junk.  Christ!  I
really just want to grab her and kiss the hell out of her pink and puffy
lips.  They’re driving me crazy.  I start to imagine that her pussy
is just as pink and swollen and I want to taste it so bad.  I might just
have to turn myself in because this is just the worst kind of torture.  I
think about prison and my dick goes limp so I grab the popcorn, now that it
feels safe to sit next to the girl and string some fucking popcorn.

“Okay,
so here’s the popcorn.” I set the bowl on the floor.  “I found some string
and some sewing needles.  You ready?”  I look her way, but not
directly at her because I’m afraid her nipples are still calling my name.

“Ryan?
Where did you sleep last night?” 

“In
that chair, why?”

She
looks me over and must come to the conclusion that I’m just not sleeping
because the chair is pretty small and well, I’m not. She looks concerned.

“I
didn’t even realize. I’m sorry.  You can have the bed.  I can sleep
in the chair.”

“No
way!  You need to heal and I am perfectly fine.”

She
stares off in deep thought and I watch as the expression on her face turns into
a look of desire and a pink hue spreads over it.  I wonder what she’s
thinking about but I don’t want her to be embarrassed so I concentrate on
stringing my popcorn.  My Mom and I used to do this when I was
little.  We would make all the stuff for the tree every year.  Every
year we’d think of something different.  The last Christmas I celebrated
was 7 years ago.  I was fifteen.  The two years I spent in foster
care, I didn’t care about Christmas.  I didn’t care about anything. 
Christmas was like any other day.  I was probably drunk, passed out on
someone’s couch.  When I got my studio apartment at Western, I just never
bothered with a tree or anything.  I actually feel happy that Vanessa is
here and that we are doing this together.

She
sits cross-legged on the floor next to me and every once in a while our hands
touch in the bowl of popcorn.  I want to hold her hand.  I want to do
more than hold her hand but she might shoot me if I do what I really want to do
to her.  Once all the popcorn is strung, we hang it on the tree.  She
smiles at me as we stand next to each other admiring our work.

“Do
you want me to start a fire?”  It’s cold in the cabin, so we always need a
fire going to keep it warm.

“Sure!”

“I
just need to see if Gramps has more firewood out back. Um, do you want to come
with me?”  She looks down at her bare legs and then gives me a strange
look.  Yes, I asked her to come with me because I still think she will
run.  Just because she’s tolerating being held captive doesn’t mean she
isn’t evaluating every escape option in her head.  I still worry she will
find that gun and force me to take her home.

“I’m
not going anywhere Ryan.”

I
study her face and nod my head. “I’ll be right back.”

I
gather a bunch of wood from the back of the cabin where Gramps stored it. When
I come back in, Vanessa’s settled in the chair.  I’m very curious about
this boyfriend of hers.  The lack of passion.  I wonder what her
preferences are.  Does she make a lot of noise?  Does she like to be
on top?  Is she willing to try new things?  I’m getting a little
heated up just thinking about it.  The fire isn’t helping.  “So tell
me more about this boyfriend.”

“Ex.”

“Ex. 
You were together for a long time.  Do you still love him?”

“I
love him but I’m not in love with him.” 

“Right,
because something was missing.  Passion.  He didn’t “take care of
you” and you decided it was time to “take care of” yourself?”

“Shut
up.”  She says as she looks away from me.

She
obviously doesn’t want to talk about this kind of stuff so I don’t push. 
I’m just curious.  I’ve fucked a lot of girls.  I never felt anything
for any of them.  Kim and I had been best friends until we took our
relationship to the next step.  I have feelings for her.  I thought I
loved her but when we took that step, it was missing something
too…passion?  Sometimes I think Vanessa was really dropped out of Heaven
just for me. For the short time she’s been here, I feel something for her that
I never felt before.

“Is
there a radio in this place?”

“Yeah. 
In the kitchen.  Only gets a couple stations though.”

“It’s
fine.  Do you mind if I look around the kitchen.  Maybe I can find something
to make for dinner, other than macaroni and cheese.”

“Go
for it.”

I
find the radio and it’s tuned into the only radio station this place seems to
get without static.  It’s a local pop station.  It’s better than
nothing.  I turn it up pretty loud and dance around the kitchen looking in
the cupboards.  I find a box of pasta and a can of tomatoes.  All I
need is some olive oil and some seasoning.  Bingo.  He has bread in
the freezer so I defrost some on the counter.  I find a pot for the pasta
and start boiling the water.  When the radio plays Justin Timberlake’s
Not
A Bad Thing
, I can’t help but to dance.  The song ends and I spin
around to find Ryan watching me.

“You’re
a good dancer.”  He says standing there with his arms flexed above his
head, his palms flat on the low ceiling.  He is giant. His t-shirt is
slightly lifted, teasing me with only a glimpse of that muscled V that
disappears under his gray drawstring sweats that are hanging off his hips. I
have to catch my breath.

“Thanks. 
I grew up dancing.”

“I
can’t dance at all.”

“Sure
you can, come here.” I hold out my hand to him.

“Nah.”

“Ryan! 
Come over here and dance with me.”

He
shakes his head in annoyance but shuffles over to me.  God, he is so damn
sexy.  My pussy is pulsating at just the thought of those strong hands
touching my body.  I grab his hands and place them both on my hips and
then I put my arms around his neck.  I sway us side to side until we find
a groove.  The fuck he can’t dance!  Holy hell, with his knee
slightly bent between my legs he pulls me against his body.  I can feel
how turned on he is.  His hard length presses against my belly as he moves
his body with mine.  He tightens his grip on my hips and I can hear his
heartbeat thumping.  I imagine him moving his hands down my hips, then
squeezing my ass and then exploring between my legs where my panties are now
soaked.  Katy Perry’s
Unconditionally
starts to play on the
radio.  Our bodies are heating up as the fire warms the small space.
 I want him to touch me so bad. I tighten my arms around his neck. 
Our bodies pressed together perfectly with no air between.  We’re
practically cheek to cheek as I dance on my tip toes.  I hear is rapid
breathing and then he turns his head slightly and his lips graze my cheek and
then down my neck. I tilt my head to stretch my neck, giving him
permission.  His wet, full lips make my heart beat like crazy.  I can
feel his warm breath blow the tiny hairs at my nape.  I close my eyes as
he pulls the soft flesh from my neck into his mouth and gently sucks. My body
buzzes from the sensation. Just then, I hear the boiling water from the pot on
the stove splash onto the flames with a loud sizzle.

“Shit!” 
I break away from him and turn the burner off.  Once I get the flood under
control and the water back to a strolling boil, I add the noodles.  I take
a few breaths trying to calm down before I even dare try to form words. 
 “I hope you like pasta. That’s all there is.”  I throw over my
shoulder.  As I glance at him over my shoulder, I catch him adjusting
himself.  I turn back around and smile to myself.  My body suddenly
craves his touch.

“I’ll
eat anything.”  And wouldn’t you know it, my face starts to burn.  I
know its bright red.  What the hell is wrong with me?

I
hear him chuckle behind me and then he starts to fidget with the fire
again.  The noodles only take 8 minutes.  I mix them with the can of
tomatoes, a little olive oil, salt, pepper and a dash of garlic.  I put
some bread in a bowl, set the table and we eat. As we eat in awkward silence, I
think about where things might have gone just now.  I don’t know anything
about him or why he is wanted for murder and I was just about to trust him with
my body.

“Ryan,
we need to talk about what happened.  Why would your girlfriend say you attacked
her?”

“I
have no fucking idea.”  He says quietly, shaking his head while twirling
the pasta on his fork.  “We’ve known each other for about 6 years. 
We met right before my parents died.  We went to high school
together.  Her father was abusive and her mother was an alcoholic. She had
it rough.  After my parents died, she was just there for me.  We had
each other’s backs.  We became best friends.  We told each other
everything.  Our relationship started to develop into something more when
we started college but I didn’t want to risk our friendship.  I had
feelings for her but I had never been in a committed relationship and I was
afraid I’d fuck it up and hurt her.  That night before the party, we had a
couple of drinks and things happened between us.  I think we both freaked
out a little afterwards, scared that it would change things, so we mutually
agreed that it wouldn’t happen again.  Our friendship was more
important.  We went to the party together.  It was just next door to my
studio apartment.  We did this all the time.  We would go together
but then go our separate ways and usually we would hook up, before things
started to change between us.  Anyway, we would always meet up at my
apartment later.  She would stay at my place a lot because she couldn’t
stand her roommate at her dorm.  We got to the party about 9.  Around
10, I didn’t see her anywhere.  I assumed she had decided to move on and
hooked up with some guy so I left. Things were weird between us, ya know? 
She never came to my apartment that night.  It’s not the first time she
decided not to show up and I figured she just needed space.  I didn’t
think twice about it. The next morning, I got a call from a mutual friend of
ours.  He told me that she was found carved up in the woods that morning
and that she told her parents it was me.  She was in the hospital when I
called her and she refused to talk to me.  I knew I was in trouble so I
called Landon, my foster brother, and he gave me the keys to this place. 
Anyway, I packed a bag and I was gone.”  He pauses rubbing his hands over
his face.  “I didn’t fucking touch her like that.  The only thing I
can come up with is maybe she was drugged or something.  It kills me that
she thinks I did that to her.  It makes me fucking sick.”  I can see
the emotion take over his face and his eyes become glassy.

“So,
she seemed fine after you guys had sex?  You went to the party together
like it never happened?  She wasn’t mad at you?  She didn’t, maybe,
change her mind and things went too far?”

“No! 
I swear.  It wasn’t like that. We satisfied a need we both had and moved
on. Things were fine.  We went to the party, had a beer together and then
we separated like always.”

“What
about those other girls?  Did you know them?”

He
looks away from me gathering his thoughts and then looks back at me.  “I
knew them.  I had sex with both of them.  On the nights they each
went missing. We were at the same parties.  Similar story.  I went
with Kim.  We separated.  I hooked up.  I left.  Kim met me
back at my place later that night.  The next morning, we heard about the
attacks. I told Kim that I hooked up with them but we never told the police or
anyone else.  She kept my secret.  She was my alibi. Until now. 
I didn’t fucking hurt them and I certainly didn’t murder them!”

I
swallow hard.  I believe him but fear is creeping through my body.
 What if it was him?  What if he was so drunk, he doesn’t
remember. 

“You
have doubts.  I can see it in your eyes.”

“What
if you were so drunk, you don’t remember?”

“Vanessa! 
I remember having sex with those girls.  I was a college kid and I was
drinking but I remember leaving them with smiles on their fucking faces. 
I remember going home.  I remember Kim coming home.”

I
nod my head.  God, I want to believe him without any doubt but there is
just a very small part of me that is so scared.  “Maybe if I can talk to
Kim, I can figure out what really happened that night after you left.”

“You
can’t.  They’re looking for you and they know we’re connected now. 
If they find you, they find me.”

“I’ll
disguise myself.  I’ll go under a different name.  Ryan, it’s the
only way. If I can find out what really happened, maybe we can prove you’re
innocent.  It’s worth a try.  I can pretend I’m going to be a new
student at Western and maybe she’ll take me under her wing. Is she nice?”

“She’s
more than nice.  She’ll be your best friend.”  He says sadly. “She
works at a coffee shop called Perky’s on campus.  She’s always there
Saturday mornings.”

“When
we go out tomorrow, I’ll get hair dye. This will work.  It has too. 
So, what do you think?  Redhead or Brunette?”  I run my hands through
my long strands.

“Brunette,
but don’t cut your hair.”

“No?”

He
shakes his head.  “You have to get some clothes too.”  He says,
staring at my bare legs again.

“Definitely.”

He
suddenly gets a pained expression on his face.  “Vanessa, you’re my only
hope.  If you turn me in, they’ll stop investigating and I’ll go to prison
for something I didn’t do.”

“I’m
not going to turn you in.  I believe you didn’t do it.  Trust me.
 Is there anything else you can think of?  Anything out of the
ordinary?”

“Believe
me, I’ve gone over this a million times in the last month.  I have no
idea.”

We
clean up our dishes from dinner and I’m feeling emotionally and physically
exhausted.  I just want to lie down.

“Ryan?”

“Hhmmm?” 
He says as he finishes drying the last dish.

“I
need to lay down.”

“Sure. 
Go ahead.”

“Um,
listen. I hate that you’re sleeping in that tiny chair.  I know it’s not
that much better but you can sleep in the bed. With me.  I know you’re not
a creep.  I trust you.  If you’d be more comfortable, I’m okay with
it, really.”

“Thanks,
but I’ll be fine.”

I
wait for him to change his mind but he doesn’t so I nod and head for the bedroom. 
I tuck myself in still wearing his t-shirt and his boxers.  They smell
like him and it does funny things to my belly.

It’s
completely dark.  I don’t know how long I’ve been sleeping but I hear the
door open and quiet footsteps.  I feel the bed dip and I feel his warmth
even though he doesn’t touch me.  I have no idea how he isn’t touching me
in this tiny bed. I smile and close my eyes and let sleep take me.

I
wake the next morning and turn slightly because I can feel him there. 
He’s on his back fully clothed with one foot on the bed and one foot on the
floor.  His hands rest behind his head.  Half of his body is hanging
off the bed, only supported by his foot on the ground. I slowly get up and make
my way to the kitchen.  I need coffee.  There has got to be coffee
here.  I see the coffee pot on the counter and scream a big “yes” in my
head.  I’m as quiet as a mouse searching the cabinets for the coffee and
filters when I see Ryan practically run from the bedroom.  His hair is
sticking up all over the place and he still looks sleepy.  He comes to a
screeching halt when he sees me in the kitchen.  His chest is heaving
rapidly.

“What
happened?”  I’m thinking he had a nightmare or he smelled fire.

“I
thought you left.” He says breathlessly.  I can see the fear in his
eyes. 

I
walk over to him slowly.  He’s rubbing the back of his neck trying to calm
himself.  I step right up to him and wrap my arms around his neck.  I
place my face on his chest and inhale his scent.  He wraps his arms around
my back and I feel his chin rest on top of my head.  “I’m scared.” 
He confesses.

“I
know.  I’m going to help you.  I’m not going to leave you.”

He
lets out the breath he’s been holding and squeezes me tighter and oh, good
morning!

“Shit! 
Sorry.”  We both laugh as he takes a step back. I’m not sure why but I
step up on my toes and I peck his mouth.   “Don’t be sorry.”