Honeysuckle Love (24 page)

“What did you just play for me?”

“It’s called
Mood for a Day
,” Evan said. “By this band called Yes.”

“Never heard of them,” Clara replied.

“You wouldn’t. They’re an old progressive rock band. My grandfather introduced them to my dad who introduced them to me. Kind of a family thing. I grew up listening to that stuff. You know, bands like Pink Floyd and Genesis?”

Clara blinked.

“Maybe not,” Evan said, and chuckled.

“I like it—
Mood for a Day
,” Clara said. “I like that song.”

“And what mood did it put you in?” Evan asked teasingly.

“A pensive one.”

“Oh. Hmm, I was hoping for something else.”

Clara giggled.

“Look, I can’t think of anything except kissing you,” Evan admitted. “I played that song hoping it would make you want to kiss me.”

Clara looked at Evan and grinned. “I’ll kiss you.”

“Oh thank you, thank you,” he gushed, and placed his guitar on the floor.

“Don’t you want to put that back in its case?” she asked.

“Oh Clara,” Evan said. “Haven’t you ever heard the song
Silver Rainbow
?”

She shook her head as he gathered her up in his arms and kissed her softly, familiarizing himself again with her full lips. He nibbled on them gently feeling her body respond to him, and when he teased open her mouth with his tongue, she moaned into his—a moan he remembered from the first time they kissed. He sucked gently on her lips stirring the same desire she had before, and reveled in the feel of her response. She kissed him back hungrily, unable to be shy about it. She wanted him to do things to her, and she asked him by plunging her tongue in his mouth.

He drew back from her, breathing heavily.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want me to,” he said huskily.

She answered him by lifting her shirt up and over her head. She placed it on the floor next to his guitar.

His eyes fastened on her bra. It was the same one as before with the pink ribbons. And the front clasp. Clara’s hands went to the clasp.

“No,” Evan said. “I want to.”

He leaned over and kissed her again, pushing her gently onto her back. She felt his leg in between hers, the familiar desire stirring in her lower abdomen. His lips trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone and then finally came to a rest in between her breasts. She felt the snap of her bra and closed her eyes as the fabric pulled away from her body. Her heart thumped wildly as she lay there exposed knowing he was staring at her, wondering what he was thinking.

She gasped when she felt his lips fasten onto her, drawing her nipple into his mouth, gently teasing it with his tongue. She arched her body up to him, crying out as she felt the soft jolts of electricity move down her stomach and disappear to that magical place between her legs. He kissed and nibbled on her other breast, taking her nipple into his mouth and paying it the same respect as the first. She twisted her fingers in his hair, tugging on him gently because the pleasure was almost too great, and she thought she should make him stop.

“You are so beautiful,” he said looking up at her.

He kissed her lips tenderly as his hand slid down her belly to her waistband. He paused, pulling away from her to look at her face.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to,” he said.

She thought about his parents, when they would be coming home, how mortified she would be if his parents came downstairs and discovered them.

“Your parents . . .”

“Are not here,” Evan finished. “And won’t be here for a long time.”

He unbuttoned her jeans and paused. She didn’t resist so he unzipped them. And when she still didn’t resist, he pulled them gently down her legs until they were lying in the pile with her shirt and his guitar.

Clara lay perfectly still, afraid to move, feeling excited and fearful and even ashamed of the physical responses she knew he could elicit from her. She thought he would lie on top of her again, but he didn’t. He moved off the couch altogether and knelt on the floor next to her. She felt like she was laid out for him like a present. He bent his head to kiss her again, letting his hand glide lazily over her breasts, feeling her body rise up to his touch. He continued kissing her as he moved his hand down her stomach, the tips of his fingers disappearing under her panties.

She squirmed, and he stopped. He pulled away from her.

“Clara, I won’t do anything—”

“I want you to,” she said, and pulled him back to her lips.

He kissed her greedily, sliding his hand down in between her legs and tasting her gasp in his mouth. He continued kissing her as he explored her, gently pushing a finger into her, afraid he would come undone completely at the feel of her silkiness. Her hips moved against his hand, and he stroked her, feeling her response, the panting in his mouth as she fought to control her desire to yield to him.

He wanted nothing more than to taste her. He wasn’t sure if she would let him. He didn’t know if he could ask. But he knew he didn’t want to make her come with his fingers. He wanted to make her come with his mouth, his tongue. He was wired, feeling his muscles swell, transforming him into an animal ready to dominate.

“Clara,” he said drawing away from her mouth. His hand left her, and she wanted to scream.

“Don’t stop,” she pleaded, twisting her body to him, begging him to touch her again.

He moved to the end of the couch and took hold of her panties, sliding them down and off her legs before she could resist. He positioned his body between her thighs, forcing them apart, and watched as her hands flew in between her legs to hide herself from him. She knew her face was flushed; she could feel it aching bright red.

Evan bent down and kissed her stomach. He kissed her hands that stayed locked in between her legs. He kissed her inner thighs, moving his hands up and down her outer legs. She relaxed and didn’t resist when he peeled away her hands to leave her completely exposed to him. She shut her eyes tightly, imagining what he thought looking at her. She did not have to imagine for very long. She heard the sharp intake of his breath.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

The heat moved over her body in one sweeping wave, and she tried to close her legs. He kept them apart.

“I’m going to make you come for me, Clara.”

She shivered then let out a whimper as she felt a kiss there. A light kiss, and then another, and then his tongue, and then the dark box she entered to confess her sins. Warm and velvety and she knew she’d done wrong, but
ahhhh
, she had to keep doing wrong. It felt good to do it, and she wanted to pay for it. She trembled for wanting it, the punishment. She’d say it over and over, penance so sweet until she settled her debt. Then she was lifted off her knees, embraced by God who drew her up, up, up until she reached the crystal gates that opened to her undoing, and she screamed and cried her exploding pleasure into the vast whiteness.

Clara and Evan sat on the couch side by side. He ran his hand through his hair for something to do. She, fully clothed now, stared ahead of her wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m just going to be honest with you, Clara,” Evan said after a time. “I’ve never made a girl come like that before. I mean, I don’t think I’m all that or anything, but damn.”

“Be quiet, Evan,” Clara snapped.

“Okay.”

“And don’t mention other girls after you’ve done . . .
that
,” she said.

“You’re right,” he replied. “That was inconsiderate of me.”

She whirled around to face him. “And exactly how many girls have you done that to?”

“Oh God,” he groaned.

“What does that mean? A lot?” she asked, feeling her temper rise.

“None, Clara.” He passed a hand through his hair again.

“Don’t lie to me,” she said.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replied.

“Why? You brought it up. You said you’ve never made a girl come like that before,” Clara said. “Congratulations. You must feel really good about yourself.”

“Yeah, I do,” Evan snapped. “What the hell is wrong with that? You didn’t seem to mind it.” He thought to yank her pants off and show her again how much she didn’t mind it.

“Tell me, did I taste as good as those other girls? Does poor pussy taste as good as rich pussy?” Clara jumped up from the couch.

“What is wrong with you?” Evan asked. “Why would you say something like that?”

“Because I’d like to know what I’m competing with,” she said. “And you still haven’t answered my question. How many girls? Do you keep a tally?”

“Oh my God, Clara.”

“Well? Do you?!”

“Calm down.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” she cried. “You say something stupid and then I ask you to tell me how many girls and you act like there haven’t been other girls!”

“There’ve been other girls, okay?!” he shouted. “I’m not a fucking monk!”

Clara stared at the floor. She seethed with an anger she knew was unjustified. Yes, his comment was stupid, but she was angry that he’d had other sexual partners, and that wasn’t fair. She knew it wasn’t fair—she didn’t even know him then—but she was infuriated and jealous nonetheless.

“I’ve been with three girls, okay?” he confessed. His blood boiled with words he knew he shouldn’t say, but he was pissed off, so he said them anyway. “And your pussy tasted better than any of theirs.”

Clara blushed furiously, and then she found her voice. “You’re an asshole.”

“Okay, Clara.”

Her brain took her someplace she didn’t want to go. A place that forced her to consider why a gorgeous, popular senior would want to date her. And then she realized it was because she was an easy conquest. She couldn’t fight him when he pursued her. Couldn’t resist him when he kissed her the first time. Couldn’t say no when he spread her legs and told her what he planned to do to her.

“You don’t care about me at all,” she whispered. “I’m just easy for you.”

Evan had enough. He stood up towering over her and grabbed her upper arm. “If I didn’t care about you, then I would have demanded you return the favor,” he hissed. “But I didn’t do that, Clara. I made
you
feel good. I wasn’t being selfish. I was showing you how much I care about you. So stop playing the victim. Get over the fact that I was with other girls. I didn’t know you then. So get the fuck over it.”

She yanked her arm out of his grasp. She couldn’t look at his face. Hers burned a deep scarlet, and she knew if she didn’t leave now he would see her cry, and there was no way in hell she was going to let him see her cry.

She walked out of the basement without a word.

***

Beatrice chattered on about her science project and dinner with Angela and her family. Clara was preoccupied, feeling guilty for letting Evan do the things he did to her, wondering if she could still consider herself a “good girl.” She also couldn’t shake his frank words and how they made her face burn with embarrassment. He did make her feel good. Too good, and she couldn’t deny it.

She thought about the chilly house that awaited them and decided she would ask Ms. Debbie about spending the night. It was simply too cold, and the girls slept in misery for the past three days. Even Beatrice, who looked at everything as an adventure and could find the positive in all situations, couldn’t pretend that she liked “camping out” anymore.

Clara turned on to her street and saw the flashing red lights immediately. Beatrice who was slouched in the passenger seat bolted straight up.

“What’s going on, Clara?” she asked.

Clara’s heartbeat quickened. She prayed silently that it was something minor, but the the EMT’s frenzied urgency told her it was anything but minor.

“I’m not sure, Bea,” she said. “Maybe Ms. Debbie just had an accident, like slipping and falling or something like that.”

She parked the car in front of the next door neighbor’s house. She flew out of the vehicle and ran towards Ms. Debbie’s house.

“What’s going on?” she demanded of the first person she saw.

“Who are you?” a short lady asked. “Get back, please.” She brushed by Clara hurriedly.

Beatrice ran up to stand beside Clara. She took her hand instinctively the way children take their parents’ hands when they need to feel protected.

“What’s happened?” Clara replied not leaving the lady’s side. Beatrice was dragged behind her. “What’s wrong?”

“Miss, you need to back up,” the lady said, and looking at Beatrice added, “And take her with you.”

“Jesus Christ, tell me something!” Clara screamed. “I’m her granddaughter! I . . . I was coming over to visit with her tonight. Please, I’m begging you.”

The lady considered her for a brief moment, and then her voice softened. “I’m sorry hon, but your grandma had a heart attack.”

“Oh my God,” Clara gasped. She heard Beatrice let out a quiet sob. “Will she be okay?” Clara asked dazed.