Knox County Ch 07

The Asian girl was nervous. Aimee could see it in her face, in the hesitation to talk.

"What's wrong?" Sean asked, putting down his pencil and looking at her. Aimee kept drawing, focusing on the knots in Elizabeth's jawline.

She said nothing. Her eyes darted from Aimee to Sean and back again.

"You know how this works, Elizabeth. You need to talk to me, to open up. That's how we get somewhere, capture you. You understand that, right?"

She nodded, but said nothing. Aimee thought Sean was nuts. Her nervousness was clearly etched in her face, in the tension in her body.

"Is it Aimee?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"Well you can open up around her," he pleaded. "Aimee, talk to her, will you?"

She looked up and saw his eyes boring a hole into her, his face telling her to do something.

"Why are you uncomfortable around me?" Aimee asked, putting her pencil down and looking at Elizabeth.

She avoided Aimee's eyes, looking back to Sean. A lonely tear trailed down her cheek. "It's different with just you. You know who I am, what I was."

Sean nodded, and Aimee saw a lightbulb go off in his head. "Okay, I can understand that. You don't want her to know. She'll think less of you, right?"

Elizabeth nodded. Aimee started drawing again, trying to capture the fear and tension in the beautiful girl's reluctance, quickly drawing in and shading the lonely tear trailing down her face.

"She won't, Elizabeth. Will you Aimee?"

"You're wrong," Elizabeth said.

"I'm not wrong. You need to tell us, and to get Aimee to understand. And she won't think any less of you. I promise."

In the week since she'd met him, Aimee had come to Sean's house every afternoon after school and spent hours in his studio, drawing together, drawing him while he painted, and chatting. This was the first time she'd joined him to work with a model, and she had looked forward to it. She wanted to see how he got them to reveal themselves, but this was going nowhere fast.

"Sean," she said, "why don't you go make us some tea? Leave us alone for a minute."

He looked from her to Elizabeth and back again. Without a word, he walked from the room and closed the door behind him.

Elizabeth looked at her nervously, and Aimee sighed and put down her pencil. She got up and walked around the easel, dragging a stool along and placing it next to the girl's chair. She sat on the stool and looked down at her, deciding to wait her out.

Neither spoke for a few minutes, then she heard Elizabeth's soft voice. "It's not you. If you hate me, that's fine. But I can't have this getting out. I live in this town. With my son. I can't have him starting school and being picked on because of me."

"For what?"

She shook her head. "Don't you see? He wants me to tell you. With him it was different. He's a hermit, doesn't know anyone. You're from here, you live in town, know all the parents and everything."

"How do you know Sean hasn't already told me?"

She shook her head again. "He hasn't."

"How do you know?" she said, raising the bluff.

"Because he wouldn't do that. And because you'd be looking at me different." Bluff called.

"Okay," Aimee said, "then I'll leave. It'll be just you and Sean, okay?"

She expected assent, but she got an argument. "You can't do that."

"Why not? He needs you to open up to him. You know how this works. If you won't do it in front of me, we're all wasting our time."

"But he needs you here. If you leave, he'll get pissed with me."

"Don't worry about it." She leaned in close. "I just wish you'd trust me to keep quiet, is all."

Elizabeth looked into her lap. Aimee didn't hear her at first. "What?"

"I was a whore. That's how he met me. I was hired to . . . ."

Aimee admitted to herself she didn't see this coming. Elizabeth looked up, then her eyes shot back to her lap. "I told you. It's different with women. Guys don't care as much."

Aimee processed this. She couldn't think of anything to say, so she said nothing.

"Tell me what you're thinking now?" Aimee finally asked.

"That you see me as a cheap whore. That you have no respect for me. That you may tell someone in town and I'll have to move." She looked up, her eyes pleading. "I just got together with someone. Someone who may love me. Who knows all about me and still wants to be with me. And if this gets out, it could ruin him around here. I'd have to leave to protect him. I don't want to do that."

Aimee smiled. "Your secret's safe with me." She crossed her finger over her heart. "Swear on a stack of bibles, okay?"

Elizabeth seemed unsure.

"Did you sleep with him when you were hired?" Elizabeth looked at her, not understanding. "Sean," she said. "You were hired to sleep with him. Did you?"

She shook her head. "He just wanted to draw me and paint me."

"Damn," Aimee said. "I've been wondering how he'd be. He's so, I don't know, almost childlike. Be just my luck I finally find someone and he'd be a bum lay."

Aimee saw a grin creep over Elizabeth's face, her hand brushing the tears from her face.

"What?" Aimee said.

"Cynthia saw him naked once, when she first got here. In the bath."

"And?"

Elizabeth's head lifted and her eyes met her. She held her hands in front of her about eight inches apart.

Aimee's eyes widened. "No."

Elizabeth nodded, the tension gone.

"Then maybe it's worth a try, huh? Don't really have to know what you're doing with a weapon like that, right?"

Elizabeth laughed just as Sean entered the room, carrying a tray with teapot and mugs.

Aimee joined in the laughter.

"What?" Sean said, putting down the tea service.

Aimee looked at Elizabeth and put her finger to her mouth. "Our secrets," she whispered.

Elizabeth looked at Sean and nodded, still giggling.

* * *

When David awoke, he heard a vacuum. He listened for a few moments, the sleep leaving his eyes, a smile creeping over his face. As the vacuum drew more near, he pulled himself from the bed and slipped on a pair of pajama bottoms. When he entered the hallway, she was drawing the vacuum cleaner back and forth, her back to him.

He tiptoed and leaned in as he drew near. He reached his hands out and placed them on her shoulders. She jumped. "Goddamnit," she said. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Good morning," he said. He gave her a peck on the cheek.

She pushed back on his chest. "None of that. I'm busy. This place is filthy."

"Just needs a good woman to keep it clean."

"Or a good man," she said, flipping off the vacuum and raising an eyebrow.

"What can I say? I'm lost without you."

She snorted. "Whatever. Get in the shower, brush your teeth. I'll finish up here and make you some breakfast."

He pulled her in to him, hugging her close. She put her arms around him and leaned her head into his chest. "I don't want any breakfast," he said. "I'd rather have you."

"Well, you'll get breakfast and like it. And maybe if you eat it all, and clean up after yourself, and help me get this place cleaned up, then maybe--maybe--you can have me."

"Fair enough," he said, kissing the top of her head.

Twenty minutes later, he entered the kitchen. She was finishing up with a cheese omelette, and he joined her in buttering the toast before applying strawberry jam for him, grape jelly for her.

"This is nice," he said between bites at the table.

"I make a mean omelette." "You do," he agreed, "but that's not what I meant. I meant waking up with you here."

She put down her fork and picked up her coffee, staring at him. After a moment, she spoke. "Frankly, I was surprised to find you here. Thought you'd be at work."

He shook his head. "No. We hired someone a few weeks ago. Someone to help me." He saw the surprise in her face. "Just after you and I talked again for the first time, when I knew we maybe had a chance, I went to Mike. Told him I needed an assistant. He didn't blink--hell, he has two assistants with design--so we placed some ads and finally found someone."

She sipped her coffee, staring at him. He couldn't read her face. He needed her to say something.

"Well?"

"You think you'll be able to be home more?"

He nodded. "That's the whole point. I'm not gonna get back together just to set it up to fail again. I'll be home earlier, five-thirty every night. And we'll have weekends together." She was licking her lips, trying to hold back her emotions, and he saw her hands were clenched on the mug. "Please tell me I did the right thing here."

She picked up her mug and plate to the sink, scraping her uneaten food into the garbage can and putting the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. Her back was to him, and he was getting scared. She just stood there, her back to him, her arms fiddling with something in front of her.

He picked up his dishes and put them on the counter next to the sink. "Cyn?" She didn't move and he approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Cyn, is everything okay? I thought this was what you wanted."

The shirt fell loose and slipped down her shoulder, exposing her bare skin. He started to pull it up, but she turned into him. There were tears on her face, and he could see from the shining in her eyes and the smile on her lips that they were tears of joy. Then he saw that her blouse was unbuttoned and she was wearing no bra. "It is what I wanted," she said, pulling him close and squeezing him, her wet face resting against his chest.

He hugged her close and rested his face on top of her head, enjoying the softness of her hair, the clean scent of shampoo lingering in his nostrils. Then her hand took his arm, grabbing his wrist and guiding his hand to her breast. "It's exactly what I wanted," she sniffled into his t-shirt. "I just never thought, hoped against hope, that you'd do it."

He squeezed her breast, feeling her nipple harden between his thumb and forefinger. "I keep telling you we've both made a lot of mistake here, right?" He felt her nod into his chest, his t-shirt now warm and damp from her tears. "I've been telling you since we first met again that night that I needed to cut back. You've promised me you'll never repeat your mistakes, so what kind of shit would I be to turn around and keep on the same track, too?"

She looked up at him. "But I was afraid to ask, to set the condition. Afraid you'd throw it all back at me. So I didn't."

His hand left her breast and went to her chin, holding it up to him with his fingertips. He leaned in and kissed her on the lips. They were soft and puffy, salty from her tears. "Does this mean you'll give it another try?"

She said nothing, only pulled him in closer to her.

"Cyn, please tell me you'll give us another chance."

He heard a muffled response, but he couldn't make it out. He backed away and looked down at her. "What?"

"I want a baby, David," she said, looking down. He lifted her chin again, and he saw that her eyes were scared. "I want to start a family."

He was floored. They'd discussed this repeatedly, both before and after their marriage. David wanted a family, and Cynthia always resisted. He knew she'd had a bad childhood, and he was convinced she was terrified of making a mess of it as her parents had. He'd learned through the years to accept this, and now she was telling him she'd changed her mind?

"I'm forty years old, hon," he said. He couldn't help himself. He'd wanted this for so long, and now that she was making it a condition of their return, he wasn't sure he still wanted it.

She nodded. "I know. I'm sorry." She looked back down, pulling him back into her. He heard her voice from his chest, felt her lips moving against his heart.

"I always thought just taking care of you would be enough for me. But these last four months, taking care of Sean . . . . David, he's like a little boy in a lot of ways. He needed me way more than you ever did."

David felt a hollowness in his stomach. She'd convinced him there was nothing between her and Sean, but now he was having doubts. He felt her head move and looked down, into her eyes. He saw the disappointment in them, was convinced she'd read his mind.

"I love him, David," she said. "Not the way I love you, though. Can you understand that?" She looked into his eyes. "It wasn't sexual--except that one time I told you about, and that wasn't really sexual, either. It was more than that. It was taking care of him, trying to mend him. He's not like you. He's so . . . so vulnerable. So inadequate in so many ways. He couldn't care for himself. You can. I need you, and I know you need me. But I need more, can you understand that?"

His jitters had gone away. He understood, he was just amazed that she finally understood why people had families. "You want a baby, someone you can care for and nurture and protect and raise."

She nodded, her eyes softening again. "I know you're forty, and I know I'm a little old to start. But I want to try. I want a family. Us, our baby. I need more in my life. Not just you, but you and a baby. A family."

He kissed her. "Then you'll stay?"

"Is that a yes?"

He nodded. "An enthusiastic yes."

Her tears increased, her eyes sparkling. He felt the tension leave her body and she melted into him. He held her tight, stroking her hair, feeling for the first time that this was really all going to be okay. He swept her into his arms.

"I've got an idea," he said, grinning and walking toward the bedroom with her in his arms, her arms around his. "How about we get started on that baby now?"

* * *

Tim was parked at the Tastee Freeze, shooting the speeds of the passing autos. He'd be off shift in an hour, and it had been a quiet Monday night.

He watched the car fly past, heard the radar beep, and looked at the readout. The car was doing fourteen over the limit, and he flipped on the cherries and pulled out. The car was already pulled over when he got to it.

"So how's it going, stud?" Jenny Silverman beamed from the car.

"Goddamnit, Jenny, I told you to cut this shit out."

She kept smiling. "You gonna give me a ticket?"

He sighed. "Yes."

"You sure you can't find some other way to punish me?" She was leering, her hand rubbing her breast.

"I told you that was over."

The door flew open and she was standing before him, her hands on her hips. "For fuck's sake Tim, I don't want it to be over. I enjoyed our little sessions." He looked at her. She was always his favorite. Adventurous, insatiable, funny, cute. But she was also seven years younger than him and still in college. Still, there was the problem with her father, who he was and what his reaction would be.

"I don't wanna fuck you in parking lots anymore, Jenny."

Her lower lip pouted out, her eyes blazing at him.

He smiled. "But I'd like to see you again. Maybe dinner?"

"You mean, like, a fuckin' date? You and me?" She laughed.

"Yeah, I guess that's what I mean." He stared at her, angered at her reaction. "You still dating Andy?"

She shook her head. "As a matter of fact, I'm free at the moment. That's why I decided to see if you were interested."

He nodded. "Well, I am. But I'm interested in dating you."

She smiled, her eyes challenging him. "And what about Dad? He'll kick your ass if he finds out you're dating me."

"Fuck him," Tim said. "He'll do nothing."

"What's your wife gonna think about this?"

"We're separated."

"And you live?"

"I just got an apartment."

She nodded, then held out her hand. "Okay, stud, give me the keys and the address."

"Why?"

She laughed. "You can take me out to dinner tomorrow. But tonight you're gonna fuck my brains out. Indoors if you prefer. Take it or leave it."

He grinned. She was nothing like Aimee--or his mother, he suddenly realized. She was forward, a tart, funny and open, not a shy bone in her body. He fumbled in his pockets, finding his key ring and extracting the key from the ring. He put it in her palm.

"When you gonna get back?" "Bout an hour."

She hopped in her car and drove away.

An hour and fifteen minutes later, he walked through the door of his apartment. It was unlocked, and the apartment was dark. He saw light under the door of his bedroom, and he walked there, shedding his clothes as he went.

He was fumbling with his belt with one hand and he opened the door with his other. The lamp on the nightstand illuminated the hottest sight he'd ever seen. She was naked, spreadeagled in the middle of his bed, her hands cuffed together over the headboard and her ankles tied with socks to the opposite corners of the footboard. He gazed over her and sucked in his breath when his eyes reached the opening between her thighs. There was something protruding a few inches from the lips of her pussy, and he heard the faint hum of the vibrator. He saw the sheets beneath were soaked with her juices, and she was writhing in ecstasy.

"Please," she gasped, "help me. I've been kidnapped, and they left me like this."

He tore off the rest of his clothes and strode to the bed. He reached down and tweaked her hardened nipples, and she arched off the bed toward his hands.

"You're going to help me, aren't you? You're going to get me out of here before they come back, right?" He kept pinching her nipples and squeezing her breasts with one hand, his other trailing down to the swell of her bare mound.

"You're not going to rape me, are you? While I'm all helpless here? Totally powerless to stop you?" She was panting, and he felt her stomach ripple with an orgasm.

His cock was engorged, almost painful with its swelling and throbbing.

He looked at her face. She was heaving with the sensations rushing through her body, and he saw the need in her face, in the way her tongue darted out of her mouth. He'd never played this game--with anyone--and he didn't know what to do.

"I'm a virgin," she pleaded through her lust. "I've never been used before. Please let me go."

"Then this isn't going to go well for you," he said. His lust was rushing through is veins, and he needed relief. He kneeled on the bed and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her face toward him.

"What are you doing?" she said, opening her mouth as his head drew near.

He felt her neck stiffen and realized she wanted this to be realistic. He yanked her hair, tilting her head back to face him. "First," he said, "I'm going to teach you how to suck a cock. Then," he reached across her and jerked the vibrator in and out a few times, "I'm going to break that cherry. I'm going to fuck you 'til you scream. Then, when you think you can't take anymore," he moved his hand down and pressed against her anus, his finger sliding in easily with the help of the accumulated juices streaming from her pussy, "when you beg me to stop, I'm going to take your ass cherry. And I'm going to fuck you so hard there you won't be able to sit for a week."

Her panting increased, and he pushed his sensitive, spongy head against her lips. He felt her mouth open, the warm wetness enveloping him, and still he pushed in. He heard her moan around his cock, sucking as he continued in, and he didn't stop until he felt his head bump against the back of her throat. He held her there for a moment until he heard her breathing increase, then he pulled her head back off. She coughed, gasping for air. He saw her saliva dripping from his hardness and the sides of her mouth, then her eyes looking into his and glazed with lust.

"You're pretty good at this," he growled. "I'll see just how much more you can take."

She whimpered around him, straining at her bonds, as he pushed back into her mouth and began pumping. She held her mouth open, her tongue pressing up against the veined underside, her lips sucking for all she was worth. He groaned, feeling the familiar tingling begin. As he got close, he pulled from her mouth, hearing a loud slurp as he did so.

"Oh no," he said, looking down at her disappointed face. "I've got more in store."