The Good Girl (13 page)

“Years of us taking the same classes, competing for the same honors, and now apparently sharing interest in the same guys…has had me distrusting you. I don’t know any other way to say it. I’m sorry.” I shrugged.

Smiling, she laughed, which didn’t make me feel any better until she spoke. “I have spent all these years admiring you, wishing I could be more like you…more disciplined, more proper, more intelligent. You are a force to be reckoned with, Willow Stone.” She shook her head at me. “And no, I don’t want your boyfriend. I was just teasing. That’s how I was raised.”

For a moment, I could only stare at her. Then I decided to build a bridge. Holding out my hand, I said, “Friends?”

Molina grabbed my hand and used it to haul me out of my seat and into her waiting hug. “This is how I greet my friends,” she said. “You know, Willow, we might just be good for each other. What do you think?”

This time my smile was genuine. “Absolutely,” I admitted.

By the time I drove home around 7pm, I had completely forgotten how uncomfortable everything was between us when I left.
Instead, I had been thinking about my mother. Given what I now knew, I looked at everything so much differently now. The brunches weren’t about control. Now it felt like we were needed to be buffers between our parents, who no longer knew how to love each other, no longer knew how to connect. Without us, there was nothing between them. She demanded perfection from me because it had been demanded of her. More and more I sympathized with her, felt sorry for the life she had. Mother never wanted to be a Puritan, she had fallen into that role, or had it thrust upon her.

All my life, I had known that I was supposed to marry well, within our circle. There had never been any question that I would go to college, have a career that didn’t interfere with my ability to be a full-time mother, full-time wife. It has always been expected that I would be just like her. Sadly, for her, I never wanted that. For as long as I can remember, I wanted to be loved and desired, to marry someone who would make me laugh, allow me to be playful. More than anything, I wanted to shun all the expectations and just
live.

Ever since Wyatt had been in my life, I felt like I had that...and hope that I could have better, could be more, could go against my family and survive.
With a light heart, I bounded up the steps to the door. When I threw it open, I found him sitting at the island.

“Hello, doll! Don’t you look happy?” He smiled. “So did I have anything to do with that?”

Walking up to him, I said playfully, “Maybe…” Leaning in, I planted a kiss on his temple. “Did you miss me?”

At that, he hopped off the stool and drew me into his embrace. “Maybe…,” he joked. “Ready to find out how much?”

My eyes widened happily. Tonight, I felt freer than I had even felt when I was on the drugs. This felt so much better because it was me, all me, under control and able to remember everything that happened. “What do you have in mind?” I asked as seductively as I could manage.

“Prepare to be surprised, and more than satisfied,” he murmured against my ear.

Beaming, I said, “I like the sound of that.”
Then I wrapped my arms around his waist and buried my head in his neck.

Pulling back, he looked at me critically for a moment. “Huh. That outfit needs a little something.”

“You didn’t think so this morning,” I teased. Then I twirled around. “What do I need, Wyatt?”

The light in his eyes was real. “Come here,” he said. “I think this…will do nicely.” With that, he pulled a blindfold down over my eyes. “Scared?” He asked.

Amazingly enough, I wasn’t worried at all. “Not even a little bit,” I responded.

With a pleased whistle, he said, “That’s my girl.” Then I felt him take my hand in his. From the way he was holding it, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was studying it. Finally, he began to lead me across the room, over to the bed. Slowly, he turned me. I could feel the mattress against the back of my legs. When I started to sink down on it, however, he stopped me.

“Not yet,” he said quietly. Then I could feel his hands run up my arms, then down my sides until he had found the hem of my shirt. Gradually, I could feel it being pulled up, up and over my head, but he managed to keep the blindfold in place.

My skin broke out in goose bumps as the cool air hit it. At least that’s what I was going with, although I have to admit a good deal of the excitement may have caused the shivers I had experienced, too. Somewhere, I heard my shirt hit the floor. His hands returned to my waist and found the button on the back and the zipper below. Bit by bit, the skirt loosened on my hips and fell lower until it drooped past my buttocks and pooled around my ankles.

That’s when I began to truly understand what the blindfold was about. It was the anticipation of it all. It was having to feel and trust in that. It was in losing the ability to see and simply be.

Next, my bra was removed, sliding slowly down my arms. The instant they were exposed, I felt my nipples harden. That clearly didn’t escape Wyatt’s attention, either, since his mouth was soon on first one, then the other, nipping and sucking. Inside me, the familiar burning began. It only grew worse as I stood there and he licked, kissed, and nipped his way down to my panties.

Would he rip another pair off of me? The wonder built so much excitement that having him merely slide them down my thighs was something of a let down. Then he shoved my thighs open just a bit more as he licked and nibbled my most private place. Funny, yesterday in the boat, I had loved that. Tonight with no vision, I somehow felt more vulnerable. Yet, I wouldn’t call a stop to this for anything.

“Now we’ll lay you down,” he murmured as he helped me lie back on the bed. The sheets felt cool against my steaming hot body, but there was something other than sheets beneath me. As I considered what I was feeling, I realized that it was a towel.

“Oh, Wyatt? Why do we need a towel?” I asked quietly. It was as though we were under a spell that I didn’t want to break.

Chuckling, he said, “You’ll see, doll.” Though I couldn’t see it, there was definitely a smile in his voice. It was a happy, warm one, not the kind that I needed to fear. There was a sound. Turning my head, I tried to place it. Metal and something being hit against it, or scraped maybe?

Before I could consider it for long, Wyatt was rubbing an ice cube against my lips. Opening slightly, my tongue darted out to lick at it, to get some relief from the heat that was scorching me. This man knew how to get my blood rushing. He must have held the ice cube above my lips because there were drops falling into my waiting mouth, until I smiled and they began to run down my chin.

Using the ice cube, he traced their path, down my neck. Only where they pooled behind my head and landed on that towel, his ice cube continued and ran over my collarbone, down and straight toward a nipple. The moment I realized his intended destination, I inhaled sharply. He didn’t disappoint. Seconds later, he was flicking the melting cube over my nipples, one then the other. It was so intense a feeling that I could have sworn I melted every bit of that cube in seconds. As it melted, Wyatt happily lapped it up.

Not content to stop there, he moved lower and lower. The ice cube rubbed on my stomach pooled in my navel. There he licked and sipped, tickling me until I writhed around. Lower still the ice cube…or a different cube, I couldn’t be sure, trailed down my pelvis until it skimmed over my clitoris. The cold made me jump, especially when he pushed it into my vagina.

“Oh, guess I better get it,” he said playfully. Then I felt his head between my thighs, his face burrowed deeply and his lips formed a suction around my vagina until he managed to remove what was left of the melting cube.

By now I was a squirming mess, dying for real satisfaction. “Please,” I asked him quietly. “In me?”

“Soon, Willow,” he said. Then he spoke in a foreign language that I didn’t entirely recognize. “Logo, meu único e verdadeiro amor.”

Making a mental note to translate it later, I knew at least one word: amor. In just about any language, it meant love. My heart raced at the thought. Could Wyatt love me? It seemed too soon, but who was I to say? What did I know about love anyway?

When I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled off the blindfold. “Here,” he said, lifting a finger covered in whipped cream to my lips. “This.”

Opening my mouth wide, I let him stick the tip of his finger in. He had been torturing me for a while and now it was his turn. Slowly, I sucked his finger clean. And when it was, I sucked it in even deeper. My tongue teased the pad of his finger, tracing the print impression. All the while, I kept my eyes focused on his. I watched as they widened and fell until they were half closed. There was no hiding the ecstasy on his face. Reaching over to the nightstand, I found the bowl of whipped cream and dipped my own finger in it. Only this time, I pulled out a hefty scoop and spread it over his erection.

Slowly, I took him into my mouth until I had licked and sucked every bit of the cream from his penis. Then, when I was sure he was reasonably clean, I sucked him in even deeper, just as I had with his finger. He groaned. It was the sound of blissful torture. This time, I was the one in charge. This time, I would decide.

“Please,” he said quietly. “In you?” Even as he asked, he was reaching for the condom he had left out on the pillow.

Shaking my head, I smiled. “Not yet.” Gradually, I pulled him onto the bed, turned him so that he was on his back. It was my time to enjoy his body, just as he had the opportunity to explore and tease mine. For me, I had no desire to rub ice on him, even if it wouldn’t extinguish his flame. Instead, I kissed all over him. It began with the silly kisses, on the end of his nose, his temple, even his chin. Then it grew more serious as I kissed that hollow beside his neck, and down to his nipple. I felt his heart as it quickened from my touch. The pleasure that gave me was incredible.

Journeying still downward, I kissed all around his belly button, then his hips. Skipping over his penis completely, I kissed each knee, massaged each calf, and ran my hands up his thighs until I had lowered myself on his groin and my breasts were wrapped around his business.

“Damn, Willow,” he moaned as I rubbed up and down the length of him. “I need to get in you now. I can’t hold it forever.” His hips had begun to buck in time with my movements.

Then and only then did I acquiesce. Reaching over, I grabbed the condom. His eyes widened in surprise. “Well, I have to learn sometime,” I argued. “You won’t always be around, right?” His eyes gave nothing away. He seemed determined to ignore my question. As I had seen him do so many times before, I pinched the end and rolled the rest down his throbbing cock. Yeah. I said cock. It felt good, too.

Once he was covered, I did something I had longed to do. I took the top. It took me a moment to find my rhythm, but once I did, he joined me in it. His eyes were so serious, so intense that it worried me. “Am I doing it wrong?” I asked, concerned.

“No, Willow, you are doing everything right.” He pulled me toward him and kissed me, passionately, his tongue battling mine, taming me in the end. His forehead pressed against mine, he grabbed the back of my head. From the looks of it, there was something he wanted to say that he refused to.

It fueled me all the more. My hips bucked, the inertia created by my ass took hold and soon I was popping up and down the length of him. Before I could think about it, I felt the waves of pleasure rolling through my vagina. It was so good, so strong. Wyatt had clearly felt it, too.

Rolling me over, he took charge once more. It didn’t take more than a few strokes before he was crying out, saying my name in a way that I wished I could hear it every day for the rest of my life. Tears. There were some, but I hid them, blamed sweat. Did he know where the water originated from? Probably, but at least he had the decency to not call me out on it. At the moment, that was what counted.

When he stood to throw out the condom, I peeked at the piece of paper he had on the tray. Instead of excitement, I wanted to puke. All the post it had written on it was #35: blindfolds, #36: use ice sexually, #38: whipped cream. Hadn’t we just had a moment? Did that mean nothing?

Moments later, I fell asleep holding my breath so that I wouldn’t sob.

This morning, I didn’t mind waking up alone so much.
During the night I had decided that what I needed most was distance. There had been dreams about it, dreams where Wyatt was gone and I was destroyed. There was a really strong possibility that those might just come true. Gah. Those would be the ones that did, right?

By the time I had my bearings, I realized that he was in the shower. This was my big chance. Like the coward I am, I gathered my things and left, but not before scribbling him a note.

Headed to the gym. Will shower there. See you tonight!

That should take care of things. A little time and space and I would be right as rain. As I hopped in the car and sped off, I realized that I never really understood that saying. What was so right about rain? When had anything good ever happened to me in the rain?

When I arrived at the gym, I recognized my mother’s car parked front and center. Honestly, I didn’t know whether to bang my head against the steering wheel or drive my car into the nearest cement wall. Before I could decide, however, there was a knock on my window.

“Willow, are you coming?” My mother asked seriously. My mother…always serious.

“No, mom,” I said irritably, “I was on my way to get donuts and decided to pull over because I was tired.”

Her hand flew to her hip. “You know, you should work out more. I have much more energy now. Oh, and endorphins are great for one’s mental health. I’m so much happier since I started working with Stephen.” She glanced at her phone before adding. “Oh, well my appointment starts in a few minutes. See you inside.”

“Yup.” With that I closed my eyes and leaned back. Maybe I should have stayed at the apartment. Maybe I should have just gone to mine. Or maybe I would find out what was so special about Stephen.

Experience had taught me that I should avoid my mother when I was in this mood. Rather than exacerbate our already strained relationship, I decided to jog until I was even tempered…or I dropped. Did I mention I’m not a jogger? Oh, but I’ve seen so many commercials of women looking so free, so relaxed as they run that I imagined it would be much the same for me. I imagined wrong.

After several attempts to set a pace on the treadmill, I decided I wasn’t the hamster on the wheel type and I toweled off before heading to find my mother.
This would have to suffice for exercise. If I hadn’t been burning enough calories during sex these days, then I was clearly hopeless and doing something wrong.

When I walked into the weight room, I found her with a man I assumed had to be Stephen. They were talking and smiling, joking even as he started her on arm exercises. My mother was in superb shape. It wasn’t that she had ever been out of shape, but before Stephen she had been thin, now she was toned.

“Cora, you are doing amazing!” Stephen assured her. “Those are the arms of a thirty year old woman!”

“No lunch lady arms for me,” my mother said with a laugh as she hefted the arm weight as he had shown her.

“So, is your husband still diddling his assistant,” he asked. “I think he’s crazy, dating a girl who could be his daughter when he has you at home.”

With a chuckle, my mother replied, “Well, I have been questioning his sanity for years. And apparently there will always be girls with daddy issues.”

It was hard to argue with that reasoning. Shoot, I probably had daddy issues. My father had never been one to lavish attention on me. My guess would be that girls in that situation can go one of two ways. They can be so desperate for love that they turn into complete whores in their struggle to find it, or they turn out more like me and learn to avoid love altogether. Really, I had. What would become of me after Wyatt?

A hiccup escaped my lips as I tried to imagine my life without him. It looked so cold, so lonely. How could I ever go back to that?

“Willow? Oh no,” my mother said. She pushed the weight toward

Stephen.
“How much did you hear? I’m so sorry. I thought you had decided to leave after we spoke.”

It was strange to see my mother so…relaxed. She wasn’t at all tightly wound at the moment. This version of her was downright likable.

“We’re not getting a divorce,” she said. It was clear she was struggling to find the right words to get through to me.

How is it that no matter how old I get, my mother still has the ability to make me feel like a child?

“No,” I said, with tears streaming down my face. “It’s not that. And maybe you should leave him. I want you to be happy, mom.”

She stood there in shock for a moment, then she turned to wave at Stephen. “See you next week,” she called. He nodded and she looped her arm through mine and started to lead us out of the building. “There’s a Starbucks just next door. Let’s go talk.”

Glancing at my phone, I realized I really did have plenty of time. “Can we hit the showers first, please? I have a final and my internship today.”

“Shower in a public shower?” She looked at me almost aghast.

Laughing, I realized that she wasn’t a completely new woman. “If you want, I’ll be quick and I can meet you in there. Promise.”

Nodding, she said, “Okay. Sounds good.”

Then I did something that Stones don’t do. Leaning over, I gave my mother a hug, a real hug, and she didn’t stiffen up or pull away.

When I joined her at Starbucks, I was feeling much more together. From the looks of things, she was, too. My concern was that this new warmer fuzzier mother would have disappeared. These things take practice. It’s so easy to fall back into old habits. Thankfully, she surprised me.

“I was wondering if you might not come,” she said quietly. “We haven’t been…close.”

Tipping my head, I looked at her. “No, we haven’t.” Taking a deep breath, I said, “I’m sorry about father. I know you are unhappy and want things to change.”

“How could you possibly know that?” She asked, surprised.

“Mom, my internship…is with
Life on the Lake
.” Waiting, I watched for her reaction.

“Oh.” Her reaction was a staccato, a breath. Then it really hit her. “Oh hell. Really?”

Instead of it turning into the conversation I thought it was, she suddenly bubbled over. “Please don’t have my life, Willow. I know you felt forced to do so. Your father wants that for you and I…well, I support him, but I love you.” Tears formed in her eyes. “I know I never said that, certainly not enough, but as you know, Stones are not demonstrative.” She frowned. “I want you to be happy. You shouldn’t wake up one day, realize that you are forty-fucking-five and have wasted your life.”

Reaching out, I grabbed her hand, “You didn’t waste your life. You did good things…there were charities…” It sounded hollow. At the moment, I wasn’t sure how to reach her.

“I’m out of options. I’m making the best of it, but you…you are beautiful and brilliant. Follow your heart, Willow.” She squeezed my hand once more, and then her phone rang. “Agh, it’s your father. I have to go.” She stood, blew me a kiss, and flew out the door.

Follow your heart.
In all the years of her coaching, I had never ever been advised to do that. Stones didn’t follow their hearts; they did their duty. For the first time, I had no idea what to do with her advice.

Follow your heart.
The words echoed in my head and stayed with me all day. I had scribbled them on the corner of the calendar desk blotter at the office. Over the course of the long afternoon of edits, I had doodled around the phrase until it stood out like a beacon to anyone who passed by.

“Something on your mind?” Molina asked as she slipped into her seat in the adjoining cubicle.

For once, it was nice to not have to examine her sincerity. The day before had been a real breakthrough. “Yeah. I ran into my mother this morning and we had coffee,” I said absently.

“Whoa,” she commented seriously. “How did that go?”

Looking at her for the first time, I smiled sadly. “Remarkably well. Our first real adult talk.” Then I glanced down at my doodle once more. “She’s sad. For the first time, ever, she isn’t encouraging me to take the Stone path, but instead to,” and I gestured to my blotter, “follow my heart.”

“Ah,” Molina remarked, “so what is your heart telling you?”

“That’s tricky,” I said. While I might have said more, might have tried to delve into my concerns about a relationship with Wyatt, Jacqueline chose that very moment to call us into her office.

“Molina, Willow, could you come here, please?” She asked.

Our eyes met in surprise as we stood and headed to her glass enclosed space. It wasn’t often that anyone was allowed in the inner sanctum, let alone invited to be there. We walked in together, both mustering as much confidence as possible. It seemed to come so naturally for Molina. This she had learned without years of Stone coaching. She hadn’t been instructed from birth to walk with her shoulders back, chin up, and head high, lucky girl.

“Sit, please,” Jacqueline instructed as she gestured to the two upholstered parson chairs in front of her enormous wooden desk. This was an office that it was impossible to not be intimidated in. As soon as we were seated, she spoke again. “I looked at your responses to the emails for Dear Aphrodite.”

Molina and I looked at each other. I can’t vouch for her, but I swallowed super hard just then. She smiled at me kindly. Dammit. I was really starting to like her.

“Both responses were excellent…well written, helpful, clever...” Her voice trailed off as she glanced back and forth between us. “So, I still have not made a decision. Now, it seemed only fair that you be aware of that.” We both heaved a sigh of relief. “I can see this means a good deal to both of you. The magazine would be very fortunate to hire either one of you permanently.”

We smiled at her. “Thank you, Jacqueline,” I said.

“Yes, thank you!” Molina was close to gushing, which shocked me since I had always thought of her as so calm and even tempered.

With that, we were dismissed and returned to our desks. As soon as we were secure in our cubicle, she glanced about then lifted her hand. “Come on. High five! We deserve it.” She beamed at me.

Smiling because her mood was absolutely contagious, I lifted my hand and high fived for quite possibly the first time in my life.