Amber Eyes (16 page)

I couldn’t believe what I saw. This was not a normal house. No way. Only celebrities and presidents of the United States lived in such places. “Do you live there, no kiddin’?”

“Yes, why not?” Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “My father’s company owns it.”

We crossed the opening, reached the mansion and walked onto its porch. The entrance to the house was a pair of towering wooden doors. They opened to a dark, outsized hall with a grand stairway at its far end, and a large window at the top of the staircase. The sky and stars were visible through it.

Aaron signaled me to come inside, and I ventured a few steps into the hall, gazing everywhere and blinking fast. Even in the semidarkness, I could make out the most lavish place I’d ever seen. No kiddin’. Not that I’d been in many posh homes—of course not—but this place was freakin’ awesome. I’d only seen such homes in movies and TV shows: wooden floors, super fancy furniture, large mirrors fitted into the walls, and a painted ceiling with angels and demons. Plus, a chandelier the size of a car hanging from the ceiling.

Funny thing, once again I had this certainty I’d seen that very hall somewhere else. A double door stood to my right, and I would have sworn there was a large dining room behind it. I spun, admiring the hall with my mouth half open. “Wow, Aaron! Cool place you have.”

Aaron took a finger to his lips. “Shhh. My room’s upstairs. Follow me, and don’t make a sound.”

“Are your folks at home?” I climbed the stairway, keeping Aaron’s fast pace. A red runner on the stairs sucked up the sound of our footsteps.

“Yes, they’re in their bedroom. No need to call them. Mom would freak out if she knew I’d been out in the woods.”

Two large hallways opened right and left at the top of the stairway. They were so heavily carpeted my feet sank up to my ankles. We took the hallway to the right. Many doors lined up on both sides of it, and there were more mirrors fitted on the walls and chandeliers hanging every now and then. The walls were wood-paneled and decorated with large pictures of people dressed like in
Gone with the Wind
. Everything was in sheer silence.

The third door was Aaron’s bedroom. He opened it without a sound and waved me inside. “Be back in a few, got to go downstairs. The lights are—”

“To the right,” I interrupted him. I knew where the light switch was located. Had it also been featured in a movie?

I turned the lights on. Yago’s trailer could have easily fitted inside that bedroom, plus three or four more trailers. The bed had a canopy and curtains. The room was as heavily carpeted as the hallway, and all the furniture seemed to be taken out of a Louis XIV movie. There was a large TV in the room, the sole modern visible feature, albeit an old one. One of those bulky things with a kinescope protruding from the back of the TV—just like the one I killed Yago with. On the walls hung several Elvis Presley and Beatles posters.

The bathroom was as lavish as I’d expected: super roomy and all white marble and mirrors. The bathtub was the size of a small swimming pool, and light seemed to come out of nowhere—it filled the chamber with a soft, pleasant glow. If this place was Magnolia Hall, I wondered why on earth everybody kept saying the house was falling apart and it’d been raided and set afire. No clue. It looked brand new to me. It might have been recently restored and rented and nobody told Edward about it.

I checked myself in the mirrors.

God, I’m a mess!

Jenny would have fussed like crazy had she seen me. My clothes were filthy, covered by a mask of earth and leaves, and so were my face and arms. My hair was also muddy. Had it been long, like Jenny’s, it would have been a repulsive mud cake.

For one moment, I wondered whether it would be okay to take a full bath inside the tub, which of course was not an option. The best thing to do would be to finish up fast and get back to the campsite at once. I took off my t-shirt and thoroughly washed my arms and face in a washbasin the size of a church’s baptismal font. The hot water felt reassuring. I filled the washbasin almost to its top and sank my head in it. In less than a second, shampoo foam was everywhere, even on the marble floor. When I was done washing my hair, I stole another look in the mirror. My naked torso was shiny. Several drops of water streaked down my boobs, making my nipples hard.

Back in Somerset, the girl at the Greyhound ticket counter had huge boobs. Jenny’s were, if not large, at least medium size. I couldn’t recall if she’d ever said if she preferred girls with large or small boobs. I turned sideways. Only my hard nipples stuck out.

“Mirror, mirror in my hand, is it true I have the smallest boobs in the land?”

I put a finger on a beauty mark close to one of my nipples—by far my sexiest feature. Being so flat, there was a good chance the Boy Scouts wouldn’t be able tell I was girl even if they saw me shirtless.

Note to self:
Get boob surgery at once.

No. Wait. No boob surgery, not yet. Guys are flat, girls have boobs, and I stood somewhere in between. Sooner or later, I ought to decide which side I should take, but not tonight. I took a hand to one of my almost nonexistent boobs and cupped it. I shivered when something like electricity irradiated from my nipple, which had inexplicably turned extra-sensitive. The sensation had been pleasant, much, and quite unexpected. I narrowed my eyes and wondered…

I took my other hand to my breast and pinched my other nipple. The electricity surged again across my body and the sensation felt as pleasant as it was exciting. It made me shut my eyes and bite my lips. A deep sight escaped them. I’d just entertained an erotic thought, thinking of Jenny.

Jenny! The memory of the day when the two of us made out in the girl’s restroom at school hit me, and I craved for Jenny’s touch. I wanted her to be with me now, in this very bathroom, both of us naked and hot for one another. Perspiration covered me. Sparkling minute droplets dripped down my tummy like liquid diamonds. My own sweat’s scent flooded my nostrils and it stimulated me in such a compelling way, it drove my hands to start caressing my breast, but my ultra-sensitive skin already demanded even stronger sensations. My hands moved all over my body, feeling my soft, bare skin. I didn’t notice when my nails sank into my yielding boobs, scratching me. It hurt, but it felt wonderful at the same time.

I only realized I’d pushed my pants down to my ankles when one of my hands reached between my legs. By then, I was leaning on one of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that covered the bathroom’s walls, its cold face in contact with my back and buttocks. I gasped, needing more air as the new, exciting sensations made my heart beat faster.

I glanced at my reflection on one of the mirrors in front of me. I saw my arms connected to my body, but those arms were not mine, they were Jenny’s and Edward’s at the same time. I imagined both of them exploring and touching me. In my daydream, his lime cologne and her flowery perfume penetrated in my nostrils all at once, and I couldn’t tell which aroma drove me mad with desire.

Then it happened. A wonderful sensation I’d never feel before exploding inside me. It skyrocketed, and my legs couldn’t support me anymore. My back slid on the mirror I was leaning on and I inched downwards until I gently landed on the floor. I could barely breathe.
Don’t stop, keep on.
Whether devilish or heavenly, I didn’t care. I’d just found a new god to adore.

Suddenly, my hands flew mouth. I’d just realized Aaron might overhear me and heat flushed my face as imagined the utter embarrassment.

Cool down, Alexandra, cool down.
I repeated this new mantra several times until my breathing evened and only a trace of hyper-sensibility still lingered on my skin. Then I wondered if boys could feel such phenomenal sensations. If they couldn’t, I didn’t want to be a boy.

# # #

After I relaxed, I got to my feet, pulled up my pants, and checked myself in the mirror. My cheeks were rosy and my eyes sparkled. I was not perfectly clean but somehow acceptable. To linger any longer in that bathroom was useless. I beat my t-shirt getting rid of as much mud as possible and the floor ended up covered with earth clods. I didn’t care. Surely Aaron’s parents had dozens of maids.

Before leaving, I scanned the bathroom for the last time. That bathroom was the most private spot I’d found in all Magnolia Hall. I wondered whether I should use the toilet. While peeing had been a manageable issue, poohing was another thing, entirely. Of course, there was the latrine at the campsite, which I’ve already said was not an option. I’d rather use this bathroom’s throne before I’d leave. It’d only take me a coupla more minutes.

Exactly when I left the bathroom, the lights went off. Everything turned as dark as when I’d been outside. I stood a full minute frozen, waiting for the lights to come back on, but darkness remained. I waited until my eyes got accustomed to the darkness.

“Aaron?” I called. “Aaron, what happened?”

Nobody answered me.

“Aaron? I’m ready to leave. Aaron?”

I took of the sunglasses and groped my way through the dark, crashing against every stupid piece of furniture until I found the door. It was closed but not locked. When I got into the hallway, it felt cold. A sort of whitish fog floated at floor level. Suddenly, the house seemed as abandoned and dilapidated as everybody said it’d been for almost 15 years. I shivered and hugged myself.

“Aaron?”

A faraway howl came in answer and my heart skipped a beat. Oh heck, it just stopped beating. If Edward or the troll keeper found me here, after both of them had insisted nobody should approach the mansion, I’d be in deep trouble. I had to leave this place at once, with or without Aaron. Coming here had been a bad idea.

I had walked only two steps into the hallway when Aaron’s bedroom door slammed behind me.
Wham!
The bang made me yelp and my stomach dropped. Pulled by an invisible string, I turned back to the door and tried to open it but the lock had jammed. I had this feeling I was a movie character trapped in a mad scientist’s haunted mansion. I only missed his devilish cackle coming out of nowhere, booming all through the house.

At that moment, a shrill laugh came indeed out of nowhere. It reached my ears and echoed everywhere. My hair bristled. I shut my eyes and clapped my hands over my ears, because it’d just scared the hell out me.

July 3, 00:34 am

“You’re drunk!” called a woman’s voice. The words filled the air as the shrill laugh sounded again. Goose bumps extended all over my body, and a hole the size of Texas vanished my stomach. “You’re completely drunk!”

“I’m not drunk!” a man’s voice retorted. Then he cackled.

I licked my lips and groped down the hallway toward the voices, and toward the starlight pouring through the window at the top of the stairway. The chilly fog—God only knew where it was coming from—was high to my knees and stirred in whitish whirls. I tiptoed down the corridor wondering which would be best, to be or not to be spotted by the owners of those two voices. I made a right after I crashed into a chair and then I saw them. One person stood on the landing in front of the window, and another one climbed the stairway with wobbly steps. The starlight glow was not enough to see their features—their faces were blurry fog swirls. I could vaguely make out the figures of a man and a woman. I ducked down.

I wondered if by any chance they were Aaron’s parents. The woman wore a nightgown and the man a business suit and a loosened tie, but they seem to have no feet.

“Of course you’re drunk. You always are!” said the woman. “Why do you come this late?”

“Because it’s the only place in Abbeville still open at this hour,” said the man. “And I’m telling you, I’m not drunk!”

He
was
drunk. The way he dragged the syllables betrayed him, just like Yago.

“I’m fed up with you!” the woman cried. “It’s the same every day. I thought you were going to change after our last talk, but now it’s even worse.”

The man reached the landing. He threw both arms up in the air. “What happens is you don’t appreciate all my efforts, all that I do for you!”

The woman hammered her own chest. “Can’t you understand how desperate I am?”

“So what? Is there anything you lack?” He pointed a finger at himself. “I’m giving you everything you need and more.” He pointed at her. “You’re far better off with me than you were with your father.”

“Of course I am.” The woman threw her arms up in the air too. “But not because of you. It’s because of your father and his precious company. If he weren’t supporting us, we’d have starved long ago. You’re a hopeless, unemployed drunk.”

“Nonsense!” He turned and walked in my direction, leaving her behind. My stomach hardened. I got ready to sprint back into Aaron’s bedroom.

She grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Don’t you dare ignore me. Be a man and face your mistakes. I’m facing mine. I was stupid enough to get pregnant 4 years ago, but I’ve taken care of the girl while you’re the worst example a child could have. What an excuse for a father you are.”

“Don’t talk to me like that!” He raised an open palm, ready to hit her.

“You’re not enough man to dare hit me. Sissy!” She took a step forward and challenged him. Instantly, the man slapped her face with the full strength of his extended arm. For some seconds, she stood paralyzed with her hand on her cheek where he’d hit her.

I gulped. It’d been gross. I’d seen Mom’s boyfriends beating her before. Every time it happened, I locked myself in a room or in the bathroom or hid under a table or a bed. Now I wanted to hide too. I knew what would follow and I didn’t want to witness it. The woman would end up on the floor, bleeding or heavily bruised. Then he would either leave or kneel beside her and start apologizing, as if he could be forgiven. My heartbeat accelerated and I had to wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans.

He pointed at her with a straight finger. “Don’t ever call me names, and don’t ever challenge me again.”

“You bastard!” She rammed him, thrusting him backwards with her extended arms.

He staggered back several steps with his arms splayed, trying to regain his balance until he smashed the window. The man disappeared in the murky night, swallowed by the broken window. Gusts of fog, chilly like the mist that comes out of a refrigerator’s freezer, invaded the house as if pumped inside.