Chapter Fifteen
I open my eyes feeling perfectly rested for the first time in weeks. Taylor is not in bed. Does he ever sleep in? My hair is a mess and again I am wearing his button down shirt. I love wearing his clothes, having a piece of him with me in his absence. He is in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on a big breakfast of eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fruit. It reminds me of our first lunch together on the day he taught me how to drive Ladybug.
“Good morning, sleepyhead.”
“We have to discuss your sleeping habits. They make me feel like a lazy bum. I can’t believe you did all of this while I slept. Irma didn’t make breakfast?”
“Nope. I usually just order breakfast in on the weekends, but I thought I would surprise you with a classic spread. Especially after seeing your fridge yesterday, it was pitiful. No wonder you looked so pale and hungry.”
“Well sorry, I was kind of in a love-induced depress...” Oh fuck. Did I just use that word? On our second night together? He darts his eyes to the pan of scrambled eggs and plates them. He is going to let that one slide. I could just punch myself in the face.
I pick at my food. It’s delicious but my nerves are rattling a bit fearing that I may have come on too strong with the L-word.
“So I got to thinking, and I have some fun plans for us today.” What is today? I have lost track of the days of the week. Whatever, I don’t have a job anyway!
“Where are we going?” I love surprises.
“You’ll see. You said you wanted to learn more about me, so I figure this is something I can show you.”
I get dressed in a pair of jeans and a soft T-shirt per Taylor’s instructions and wait out in the great room while Taylor changes. Harrison walks by.
“Harrison!”
“Ms. Ball, so nice to see you.”
“Please, call me Shyla.” He must have an idea about Taylor and me. “How are you?”
“I am doing very well. It is good to see you.” Taylor walks out in a fresh pair of jeans and a black T-shirt; his eyes pop against the darkness of it. He looks so young and light on his feet, like a burden has been lifted off of him.
“Ready Shy?”
“Shall I drive you?” Harrison asks.
“No thanks, I think we are going to take the Spider.”
We head down in the elevator. I give him a shy glance and he smiles that coy, crooked smile of his.
“Come over here!” He pulls me up to him and passionately kisses me. It sets me on fire. He stops and looks down at his watch.
“Damn. We are running behind. We’ve got to go. I’ll take a raincheck.” He slaps me on the rear. He is so playful today and I love it. We walk past several cars and come to a black, low, sleek convertible Ferrari. It reminds me of a bullet. This must be the Spider. We hop in quickly. I admire Taylor’s expert handling of the car. He shifts without even thinking, or at least looks like he’s not. Whenever we stop at an intersection, people gawk and stare. He is the person anyone would love to envy: young and gorgeous in an expensive convertible. I wonder if the people are silently judging me. Maybe they think I am a gold digger, or that I am not beautiful enough for him. Those ever present thoughts are the only things keeping me from being completely relaxed around him. When we hit the freeway we fly; my hair whips around and I laugh and holler, trying my best to hold it down. Taylor laughs at my childish joy. I try to get clues about our destination from Taylor, but he blasts the music to drown out my interrogations, shaking his head “no.”
Eventually, we exit the freeway and the car slows so that the wind is not as powerful. Taylor looks over at me. “Wow,” he says and begins to snicker. Oh no, is my hair that bad? I frantically try to flatten it with my hands. “I forgot to give you one of these.” He pulls out a hat from the glove compartment. I try to wrangle it over my now enormous hair. “Don’t worry, you look great. Don’t forget, the day I first met you, your hair kind of looked like this.” He gently tugs on one of my tendrils. I remember that day, I wrangled my hair into a hat much like I am trying to do with this cap.
“Did you think I was the biggest idiot ever when I spilled the coffee all over you? Be honest.”
“No, not at all. I swear. Do you want to know what I thought?”
“Of course! I just asked, didn’t I?”
“Well, okay, smart ass. I had just gotten off the phone. I think it was with Marsha.” I remember that. “I went to order some coffee and out of the corner of my eye I saw this petite, cute girl in this red leather jacket. Something about you intrigued me. You weren’t facing me, so I couldn’t quite make out your face, but I noticed your tight little butt.” I gently shove his shoulder as I blush. I was certain that he didn’t notice I was alive until I threw hot coffee all over him. “I was curious to see your face, so when I saw you turning, I slowed down a bit to catch a glimpse, which proved to be a near fatal mistake.”
“So you caused the bump!” I exclaim pointing at him emphatically.
“Umm, no. I do recall your Herculean grip causing the coffee cup to explode on me. Then you looked up, and your face...nevermind.”
“Oh no you don’t. Tell me! Here, I’ll tell you: I heard you bossing Marsha around, and I thought you smelled so nice. When I finally got a glimpse of you, I thought you were so incredibly gorgeous. I didn’t even consider you were thinking anything remotely similar about me. So please, indulge me.”
“Shy, it wasn’t just looks. I saw your face and I was immediately hit with a sense of warmth and familiarity. You’re beautiful, so beautiful, but many people are beautiful. I just felt like I had known you forever.”
“Is that why I can touch you?”
“I don’t know. I wish I could tell you why. My psyche is all fucked up. It would take years of therapy to scratch the surface.”
“So why don’t you go?”
“To therapy? You may have noticed I don’t like to talk about certain topics. I have tried a little, but I just can’t. I’d rather just cope. No thanks.”
“Well, I hope at least that one day, you can talk to me about it.”
“So do I.” I am so engrossed in our conversation that I have stopped paying attention to my surroundings. Suddenly, we are pulling in front of a somewhat industrial looking building in the middle of a huge stretch of barren road. I hear the roar of what sounds like engines. I look around for clues to confirm my hunch. My eyes catch a sign that reads: Motor Valley Speedway.
“Come on Shy,” he gestures to me to get out of the car. We walk into the building.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holden!” A middle-aged man with a well groomed beard greets us. “This must be your girlfriend.” He sticks his hand out for a shake. Am I his girlfriend? I am all his, that’s for sure. Taylor neither confirms nor denies the inquiry. He introduces me to Mr. Tompkins and then they discuss some car gibberish.
“I see you brought the Spider. You’re going to use the GT right? I have her ready to go for you.”
“Yeah, I wanted to take Shy around in the GT.” They might as well be speaking in another language. “Let’s suit you up.” Taylor grabs my hand and leads the way. I love when he takes my hand.
“So I think the cat is out of the bag. Are you taking me racing?”
“Yeah Shy, this is one of my hobbies.”
“I should have figured with all of those cars you have.”
“I think you’ll have a lot of fun. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.”
“You’re good at this right? I’m a little too young to die.”
“I’ve dabbled.” He is so deadpan it’s hard to tell if he’s being sarcastic or not. He takes me to a small locker room where he pulls out his gear. He points to more gear on a bench. “I believe that’s for you.” There is a helmet, a blue and white jacket and pant suit.
“What if someone comes in?”
“No one will, the entire place is ours for the next two hours.” It must be nice to be rich enough to rent a racetrack on a whim.
“I’m ready!” I exclaim in my little blue and white racing suit.
“You look adorable,” he says, flicking me on the nose as he escorts me out. I may look adorable, but he looks like the hottest race car driver ever. I imagine if he decided to take this up as anything more than a hobby, he would be splashed all over magazines. The media loves a gorgeous athlete.
We walk out the back side of the building and I see a low-slung, extremely fast-looking car. I don’t know anything about cars, but this thing looks just like the ones I have seen on TV, covered in a collection of patterns and logos. Taylor directs me into the car first and straps me in tightly. He tells me I will need a headset and helmet since the car will get very loud at top speeds. He hops into the driver’s seat.
“Let me know if you want to slow down at any time, okay?” I nod, nervous and excited. He gives Mr. Tompkins a thumbs up and we dart out into the race track.
“We’re just going to warm up a bit these first few laps okay?” His voice buzzes through the headset. This feels pretty fast for a warmup. I admire him as he skillfully shifts the gears and negotiates turns.
“How fast are we going?”
“Eighties. Ready to pick it up?”
“Yeah!” My stomach is twisting and turning as the car rumbles and roars with power. My nerves kick in as we turn the corners, which come toward us so quickly that I swear we are going to slam into the walls. My heart sinks into my stomach, but I love the thrill, the feeling of danger. Taylor doesn’t say a word once we hit top speeds and I try not to break his focus. After a few laps he breaks the silence. “You okay over there?”
“Yes.” I say. I am not sure I am inspiring confidence as I feel him slow down, still going very fast, but not race car fast. “You sure?”
“No, no...this is really fun, it’s exhilarating, but also scary. Like a roller coaster!” He slows down a bit more, to a comfortable pace. “Want to drive around the track?”
“Ummm...can I?” I sit as upright as my harness will allow. “I just learned how to drive stick...”
“Well, just go at your own pace. Just riding around is fun with the Spider. You will feel how responsive she is. I beg you, please do not crash her, you’ll give me a coronary if you put a scratch on her.”
“I promise, I won’t do anything crazy.” He pulls over the GT and hops out. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says poking his head in the driver side window. I see him talking to Mr. Tompkins. They both disappear for a few minutes and then I see the Spider pulling into the race track. Taylor pops out of it and signals to me to come over. I hastily unbuckle myself and run over to the black car. I see Mr. Tompkins hop into the GT and drive it out of sight.
“Why are we switching cars anyway?” I ask as I adjust the seating and mirrors to my preference.
“Well, this car will be a little easier for you to handle I think. Plus, it’s doesn’t cost as much. The GT is an actual race car that has been used in professional races. This is an amazing car, and if you fuck it up, I will cry, but not as hard as with the GT.”
“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.” I wink at him.
“I’m letting you drive aren’t I?” He takes a deep breath. “Ok, let’s go, please keep it around thirty to forty miles while you get a feel for the track.”
“How fast can I go?”
“We’ll see, but let’s keep it at seventy to eighty. For my heart health.” He winks at me with those blue-green eyes. “Alright, let’s go!” I pull out onto the track and as soon as I shift out of first gear, I can feel how responsive the shifting is; it’s as if the clutch is telling my foot when to release. Ladybug handles nicely, but this thing is a beast. Very little pressure is needed to accelerate quickly. I look over at Taylor for his approval.
“Shy, eyes on the track please.” I make a lap or two between thirty and forty miles per hour. “Can I go faster?” I beg.
“Ok, but please be careful. It would be really tragic if you killed us both.” I try to punch his shoulder with my right hand.
“Shyla! Hands on the steering wheel!”
“Okay, okay!” I press down on the accelerator, and feel the roar of the engine. As the car speeds up, my focus heightens. I press down on the clutch, shift up, and hit the gas. It feels powerful and exhilarating, handling this huge piece of equipment.
“Okay, Shy, let’s stay with this speed for today. Four more laps.” His voice seems distant as I speed through the track. Once I complete the final lap and pull the car off the course, I turn to Taylor.
“How did I do?”
“Not bad for a beginner. My clutch seems to have survived, as well as the two of us. If you wanted to do this more often, I could get you lessons so you can learn more.” I would love to learn more, but I don’t want him to pay for lessons, and if I say I am interested, I know he will, so I save the subject for a later date. I step out of the Spider and pull off my helmet. I look over the car, to see Taylor staring at me, with a smirk across his face.
“You look so hot right now. You belong in one of those car mags. Come on, Chase will take care of the car.” That must be Mr. Tompkins’ first name. Taylor grabs my hand and pulls me back into the small locker room. He looks at his watch and locks the door behind him. I stare at him inquisitively, wondering what’s next. He signals to me with his finger to walk over. I walk towards him hesitantly. I want him so badly, yet the fire in his eyes almost makes me fear I may get burned. Once I am close enough he pulls me towards him so quickly that I fall on to him. He pulls on my hair, tilting my head back and exposing my neck, kissing, sucking. Immediately down below I feel a pulsing electricity. I want him inside of me so badly. He pulls off my jacket and then my pants. It’s baffling how someone so gentle can become so crazed. He rips off his jacket and pulls his T-shirt overhead. I take him in, his ripped abs flexing and relaxing with each breath. He comes at me like a creature pouncing on his prey. Taylor is eerily quiet, but I can hear his heavy breathing in the silence of the room. He grabs me by my bottom and picks me up, his strength making me feel weightless. He seats me on top of a row of sinks, unclips my bra and begins to suck on my breasts. I moan, trying hard not to be too loud, but the pleasure is unbearable. He sucks hard on my neck and whispers in my ear. “I want to fuck you hard. Can I do that Shy?” His words are so intoxicating. He asks me as though I have a choice, but in that moment he could ask me anything and I would say yes. He picks me off the counter putting me on my feet and twisting me away from him in one quick motion. I hear his pants unzip and I feel his hardness against my backside. He whispers in my ear “Shy, are you on birth control?” I nod yes. “I want you raw.” I think about the book. Are those all of his partners? Being his assistant has made me privy to the fact that he is almost obsessive about his health and I even know he just had a physical. I just want him, so that’s good enough for me.
“Okay.”
Without hesitation, he pushes me down so that my top half is bent over the sink counter. He whips my panties down so forcefully, I hear some of the threads snap. I expect to feel him penetrate, but instead, I feel his tongue, slowly, delectably rolling along my lips. I moan his name. He shushes me. “Shy, I want you to try and stay quiet.” I get the sense he doesn’t care if people hear me, but that this is some sort of challenge for me. I feel him gently rolling his tongue on my clitoris, then it sliding inside of me just slightly. His hands grab my cheeks and spread them and I feel his tongue ever so gently glide through. No one has ever done that to me before, and while I never expected it, I feel a rush of power knowing this powerful man is on his knees, surrendering to me. It may be just for a fraction of a second, but this beautiful man is my slave.
Then someone knocks on the locker room door.
“Not now!” Taylor responds.
Just as the embarrassment of someone being just outside the door hits me, he slams into me, so hard I wail.
“Shy, I said try not to make a noise.”
“I...I can’t” I say. I feel his hand come over my mouth. He slams again. I wail into his mouth. His size, combined with the position and the force of his thrust is a mix of pain and eye-rolling pleasure.
“Do you like it when I fuck you hard Shyla?” I nod, his hand is still over my mouth. He thrusts into me again and again, forming a rhythm, but maintaining force. He has me angled at a position that makes every thrust feel so deep. After each one, I wonder if I can handle another, while at the same time, eagerly anticipating the next penetration. He squeezes one of my cheeks so hard, it is borderline painful. “My god Shy, you feel so incredible.” His voice sounds drugged. I moan so hard that his hand has barely any effect, he moves it off of my mouth and grabs a fist full of my hair and pulls my head back. “Shhh...” He says into my ear. He is pounding, I am hollering and I feel my insides tightening, tensing. My cries get louder, so loud, I wonder if someone might think he is killing me in here. I open my eyes and see his beautiful reflection in the mirror, his abs define with each thrust, his hooded eyes completely focusing on me. He bites his bottom lip and I can no longer take it. I come so hard and loud, that Taylor is forced to cover my mouth again, very firmly, almost suffocating me, which only serves to make my orgasm more intense.
“Oh god Shy!” I hear him say as he releases himself inside of me. He rests his torso onto my back and we pant in unison. What just happened? I have always been such a good girl. That felt so dirty and yet, so incredibly satisfying on another level. Never have I surrendered myself so entirely to another person. I fight back tears. This man makes me cry more than anyone else in the world, and while that should be an ominous sign, I think it is because he makes me feel more deeply and strongly than anyone has before. I am making up for a lifetime of indifference. He has turned my world upside down and I love every moment of it. Yet, there is still the ever present feeling of filth, of immorality. I don’t recognize myself and it scares me.
“Shy? Shy are you okay?” I don’t want him to think he has hurt or scared me. He stands me up and turns me around, placing his hands on my shoulder.
“Yes. I am fine, really.” I stop speaking and cover my face. He pulls my hand away from my face.
“Tell me.” It is a command, but I can hear the tenderness in his voice.
“I am just overwhelmed.” His face softens and his eyes warm.
“I don’t like when you cry,” he says. Then he brushes my hair back and walks to his locker.
We dress quickly as other people will soon be coming to use the track. I feel apprehensive about exiting the room and facing anyone out there, but he assures me that the chances of anyone being in the vicinity are very slim. Of course, when we step out, someone in an employee shirt is walking through the hall and he stops when he sees Taylor. I look down, doing my best to avoid eye contact.
“Jeremy.” Taylor nods and tries to quickly walk by, but Jeremy can’t help but say something.
“Mr. Holden, ma’am, my apologies about knocking on the door, I had just gotten in and I didn’t know you were here.” The young man’s voice is jittery, obviously Taylor is an important customer. However, this guy needs a lesson in discretion.
“No worries. Have a good one.”
“How...How was your track time today?” Jeremy asks awkwardly. Oh my god, shut the fuck up. I just know he heard us. This guy knows what I sound like in the heat of the moment. This guy knows I fuck in public restrooms.
“It was great. Gotta run.” Finally, Jeremy gets the point.
Taylor grabs the Spider keys from Mr. Tompkins in his office and we set off to return to his place.
Taylor brushes some hair out of my face. “You okay, Shy?”
“Yes, just a little embarrassed.”
“Trust me, he was more embarrassed than you were.”
“Doubt it.”
“Well, I have some work to do unfortunately, but you are welcome to come back to the house and hang out.”
“I should let you focus.” There is no doubt that I want to spend every waking moment with him, but I know that is the adult thing to say.
“So Rick is moving tomorrow?” There he goes bringing up Rick again.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“Well, I would love it if you slept over tonight. I can call you when I am done working. That way we can hang out tomorrow and Rick will have the space he needs to move. That is, if you want to.” Do I hear a shred of insecurity in his voice? At least he knows the details of my personal life, I know nothing about his past girlfriends. I agree to come by later in the evening once he is done with work. Since my car is at his house, he tells me he will have Harrison come and get me.
“Shyla, I had a wonderful time today.”
“So did I.” He kisses me on the forehead and I slide out of the car. As I float to the entrance of the apartment building, a nuclear bomb could drop on my ass and I wouldn’t care. That is, until I see Rick’s reflection in the glass door of the building. I turn very hesitantly and see his unamused face.
“Oh hi!” I am hoping he missed my goodbye with Taylor. He didn’t.
“Nice car he has there. You didn’t wait very long, did you?” I don’t want to fight. I understand his hurt and anger, even though I do have every right to see Taylor at this point.
“I’m sorry, you said you were coming tomorrow. I didn’t mean for you to see anything.”
“I thought I could get a head start today. I had assumed you would at least have waited for me to move out before bringing Mr. Hotshot around.” I am feeling the discussion escalate and I don’t care to let it go any further. Rick has been more than kind about the situation and this is becoming the perfect opportunity for him to let out his pent up frustration.
“Rick. I am so sorry. He was just giving me a ride. I would have never brought him around if I knew you were going to be here. Take all the time you need. Please just let me know when you are finished.”
He lets himself into the building without responding to my apology.
I walk to the very coffee shop where I met Taylor. The all too familiar waves of guilt and elation crash over me. I wish things between Rick and I did not end like this, but things are what they are. I never meant to hurt him, but in the end, there is no way to end a relationship without hurt feelings.
Chapter Sixteen
My time in the coffee shop is perfect for calling my mother. It has been weeks since I last spoke to her. Due to my uncertainty about the new job and my relationship with Rick, I wanted to avoid her prying questions about my life. Just the thought of telling her about my breakup with Rick is exhausting me. I strategize about how much I need to tell her, the bare minimum I can get away with. Since the job is ancient history, I decide to skip past that as if it never happened. Telling her about Rick will be so hard. We have been together for so long, and I know she was convinced Rick and I would marry. She cares so much about my relationships because she doesn’t want me to be alone like when my dad left her. While I understand her reasons for this, I cannot live my life just to comfort her.
Before I call, I text Taylor to share my awkward and painful encounter with Rick. Normally, this would be something I could share with Kristin, but she doesn’t know about Taylor and me. Which reminds me, I need to talk to Taylor about this whole secret affair thing. I have a life filled with other people, and I cannot hide our relationship forever.
Shyla:
I am at the coffee shop. When you dropped me off, Rick was outside and saw the whole thing. Awk.
Mr.Holden:
Do you mean THE coffee shop? I should buy that place and turn it into a monument for you. Sorry to hear about Rick. Are you ok? You didn’t argue or anything?
Shyla:
No. I’m fine. He made a snide remark and rightfully so. I feel like an asshole, but I told him he could start moving today and I came here to give him space. Came here because it reminds me of you.
Mr.Holden:
You know what else would remind you of me? Me and my house. Just come over, no need to be sitting alone in a coffee shop. I know you don’t have any work to do ;)
Shyla:
What a callous remark Mr. Holden! I’ll have you know that I worked at a top business before being seduced by its impossibly sexy and enigmatic CEO. It will greatly pad my resume!
Mr.Holden:
Sexy? Enigmatic? Tell me more. From what I have heard, the verdict on who seduced whom is still up in the air.
Shyla:
Okay, I have distracted you enough. Besides, unlike my resume, your ego does not need any padding.
Mr.Holden:
Zing! I’ll be done in a couple of hours. Feel free to call Harrison directly if you want to be picked up earlier and surprise me. I won’t be mad about it ;)
Shyla:
I am reading some enthralling literature and I have to call my mom. If you know anything about phone conversations with her, you’ll know I will need more than a couple of hours.
I catch myself smirking like a goofball. It’s the times of levity like this that makes the weight of his looming secret heavier. Do I really want to know the truth? Do I want to know what is beneath the surface?
***
“Hi mom.”
“Hi Shyla doll! It’s been too long!”
“Sorry, things have been crazy lately.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I’m fine mom, and everything is okay, but Rick and I broke up.”
“What? What happened?”
“I don’t really want to talk about it, but it is mutual. We are both fine and happy to move on.”
“I don’t understand, he was such a nice guy.”
“He’s not dead mom!” I chide. “He’s great, we just weren’t working out. Anyway, I’m okay, everything is fine and I don’t want you to worry.”
“Did he cheat on you?”
“No! You know he’s not like that. Honestly, nothing happened, we just grew apart. We talked and both agreed it was the right thing to do. How are you doing mom?”
“Oh, everything is okay here. You’ll let me know if you’re not okay right?”
“Of course mom. I don’t want you to worry is all. I really am okay.”
I can’t bring myself to tell my mother what really happened. She would be so ashamed of me and to be honest, it hurts to talk about what I did to Rick. She goes on to fill me in on gossip about friends and family members I barely know. I know she misses me, and I really enjoy seeing her when I visit, but phone conversations don’t do anything for me. I would much rather visit her a few times a year than have weekly meaningless phone conversations. They are a chore I endure to make her feel as though I am still at home while I am hundreds of miles away. When she comes up for air, I let her know that I have to finish a project as she still thinks I am freelancing. Once I tell her I love her and hang up, I think of Kristin. She hasn’t heard from me since her last check in and has left a couple of voicemails. This requires a text to Taylor first. Quickly, I change his name in my phone, because I think we are officially past me addressing him as Mr. Holden.
Shyla:
Hey it’s your local neighborhood CEO seducer again. Question: I know I am not supposed to tell anyone anything according to the nda, but I think you would agree things have changed. Kristin is starting to ask questions and she’s my best friend. Can we make an exception here?
Minutes pass with no reply. This is unlike him as he always has his phone on him. About ten minutes later, the familiar buzz of my phone goes off.
Taylor:
Might it have occurred to you that I had you sign the NDA for this particular eventuality? I am okay with you telling Kristin about us, but spare her (and everyone) the details of our locker room trysts. I know how you ladies love to share...
Shyla:
Mr. Holden! I am not the type to kiss and tell. She will have to find out eventually that we are seeing each other so there is no point in trying to hide it.
Taylor:
Agreed. Just keep the details mum. Seriously.
While this is some sort of victory, there is not much I can tell Kristin. I decide to give her a call anyway.
“Shy! You’re alive!”
“Yes, yes I am.”
“How are you? I’ve been worried sick. I stopped by your place and no one was home. Do you need me to come over?”
“No. I am not at home. There is so much I need to tell you, but I’ll keep it short since I have to run, I just wanted to let you know that I am okay and I am out of my funk and all that.”
“What? Where are you? Where are you going?”
“At a coffee shop just hanging out. I am going to Taylor’s later.”
“Taylor? Who is Taylor?”
“Taylor Holden.” There is a pause on the other line as I hear Kristin trying to make sense of what I am telling her.
“Shy...la...you...didn’t!” While she wants to feign disappointment, I can hear her smiling on the other end. “You need to give me the details. What happened? Are you two...?”
“Yes. Kristin, I am...” I pause. Should I tell her how crazy I am about him? I don’t want to sound naive. Kristin has a way of reading my mind, so she fills in the blank for me.
“Is this why you were so messed up? You mean it wasn’t just about Rick? Is that why you quit? Shyla, you are killing me right now!”
“Yes, Taylor and I finally expressed how we felt and he told me I should leave Rick, and that he and I should take a step back. I agreed with him, but I took some things personally that I shouldn’t have and I stormed out. That, plus Rick and I ending things was a lot.” Talking about my break up with Rick to Kristin makes me wish I had dealt with it differently. I know it looks like I have just left him in the dust, but I still feel for Rick in my heart even though my life is moving forward. Still, I think I need to give him some time to process everything before I reach out to him.
“You’re telling me! You said you were going over to Taylor’s, so I take it that you two are not done?”
“No...he came over on Friday night and told me he missed me.”
“That is so romantic! You beyotch! He is rich, gorgeous and sensitive?” She doesn’t know his secrets; then again, neither do I. “How is Rick doing since you two broke up? Have you spoken to him?” I hear a text alert while I am on the phone.
“Things were fine, but then I ran into him today...long story...he didn’t seem so fine anymore. Okay, I have to run, but we’ll meet up whenever you are available. I have no job right now as you know, so I am free as a bird.”
“Yes! I will give you some times so we can meet up. Love ya!”
“Love you too.” I check on the text.
Taylor:
So are you going to keep me waiting here?
Shyla:
I wasn’t joking about my mom. I’ll call Harrison.
Taylor:
He’s already there.
I look out the window and see the Bentley. I grab my stuff and run out to meet Harrison, feeling bad that I have kept him waiting. When I arrive at the house Taylor is sitting in the great room, newspaper in hand, wearing a pair of charcoal lounge pants and a white tank.
“I ordered some Italian for us. Come over here.” He pulls me onto the couch next to him.
“You know, I don’t think I have ever selected my own meal with you.”
“You don’t like that?”
“Well, I guess I don’t mind for now since you have good taste. I just wonder why is all.”
“I don’t know...I just want to take care of you. I guess I am used to dictating everything around me” I can hear his words are lost in a thought, so I let the topic go for now. I lay my head in his lap, taking in his appealing face. He twirls tendrils of my hair in his hands as we laugh and reminisce about the racetrack. He confesses to having about four or five coronaries while I was driving. This is heaven. We dine on wine and Italian food and we go to bed, my heart, tummy and soul feeling completely sated.
***
I can’t breathe. The pressure around my neck is so intense that no matter how hard I try to gasp, no air travels to my lungs. I try to scream, but I hear only faint gargling sounds escape my throat. The room is so dark, I cannot make out the figure on top of me. I reach out to slap, scratch, punch, do anything to get just an ounce of air. My hands graze the top of his head, and I feel his hair; suddenly my senses become hyperaware. I’ve felt that silky texture before. His smell. I know that smell. I love that smell. I start to feel lightheaded and do the only thing I can out of desperation, I grab a handful of hair and pull with every bit of strength I have left. Taylor’s body gets pulled off center, and his grip around my neck slowly eases. I shoot up and desperately wheeze on all fours, coughing as I try to take in as much oxygen as possible. I crawl over to the lamp on the nightstand and pull on its chain.
The dim light casts shadows on Taylor as I watch him on his knees, his eyes narrowing as he comes to. He looks at me as if he hadn’t seen me there before; slowly he looks at each of his hands, trying to make sense of the situation.
“Taylor?” I choke out his name, my voice throaty and still out of breath.
His eyes widen as he registers what just happened. He makes a sudden motion towards me and I jump back.
“No, no, no...” he whispers, his hands out in front of him as if he is trying to coax a scared animal. “It’s okay...it’s okay...” We both pant heavily in the stillness of the night. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay?” He keeps his volume low and his tone very slow.
I nod, my face covered in tears. I don’t know if they are from fear or a physical reaction to being choked. My body trembles uncontrollably.
“Listen. Look at me. I thought you were someone else.” He moves forward just an inch with his hands still up. “Shyla, I was dreaming and I thought you were someone else. Do you understand?”
I nod, still shaking, still panting.
“Can I come over to you?”
I don’t respond. I know he was dreaming; I could tell from the look in his eyes when I turned on the lamp, but I am still in shock. I try to steady my breathing, get some control over my panic, but each inhalation is shallow and choppy.
“I am so sorry Shy. I am so sorry. Please, let me come over to you. I promise I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to explain” His eyes convey a level of compassion I have never seen in him.
“O...okay.”
He crawls over to me carefully, so as not to trigger me to flinch. Once he is close enough, he reaches out one hand, very slowly, and I watch it intently, still feeling a little distrustful. He pushes my hair out of my face; strands of hair are stuck to my tears. Then he moves just slightly faster as he comes even closer. He rakes his fingers into my hair and sits beside me, and then he pulls my head to his chest, cradling me. “It’s okay,” he assures me. “I’m sorry,” he whispers into my ear. “Please forgive me. I didn’t know it was you.” His physical tenderness is entirely new to me. Ever since he came to my apartment, I could sense him struggling with how to use physical touch in a non-sexual manner.
I lay on his chest in silence, using the rhythm of its rise and fall to help sooth my jagged breathing. After minutes, we sit there in silence, breathing in unison.
“Taylor, what happened? You could have killed me.”
“I don’t know. I had a dream and I thought you were someone else.”
“What was it about?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Has this happened before?”
“When I was a kid, occasionally it would happen. I couldn’t go to sleepovers because of it. But as an adult, I don’t sleep with other people, even women. Not specifically because of this, but because I don’t like people in my space. They usually leave or sleep in another room. I thought it might have gone away by now or that it wouldn’t happen because you make me feel relaxed. I am so sorry.”
“You scared me. Does this mean we can’t sleep in the same bed?”
“I don’t know. I have some medication that I can take before bed that sedates me.”
“Why do you have these dreams? Are they about something?”
“I don’t know.” He guides my chin up to look at him. “Listen. I feel terrible. I would never want to hurt you, you have to understand. That was not me.”
“I know. I could tell you weren’t present. Your eyes...they were vacant.”
“Can I kiss you?”
I nod.
At first his kisses are soft, along my temple and cheek, but when I turn to meet his lips they get intense. He frantically runs his hands through my hair and kisses me all over my face and neck as his body lies on top of mine. His breathing is again heavy and fast. His approach feels frantic and I know this is for him more than it is for me. I think he knows more about these dreams then he is letting on. He is panicked, as if he is trying to rid himself of something. He pulls off my panties and I feel him reach down to pull himself out of his shorts. He slides into me, I moan, this is happening so fast, my body is not ready for it and feels especially tight. Once he is inside of me I begin to loosen up, and he slides effortlessly in and out. I wrap my arms around him, holding him close. His presence is so silent, so haunting. Finally he breaks his silence:
“Shy.”
“What is it?” I say, taking his hands into my face, looking into his jade eyes.
“Please don’t ever leave me.” I run my hands through his hair.
“I am not going anywhere.” He seems so small, so scared.
“Do you trust me?” His voice still has a trace of desperation. Do I? My mind races through all the things he hasn’t told me, all the secrets he has kept.
“Yes.” My voice is breathy because of his weight on top of me. He needs to hear this. He continues to thrust in and out, his mouth just by my ear where I can hear and feel every breath. My moans become more consistent and louder, and I begin to tighten around him, gripping him close to me.
“Trust me Shy.” He takes his hand and covers my mouth and nose firmly. My instinct is to push him off, but he continues to thrust and he is too strong for me to move him. “Shy, this time it’s different. I want to make you feel things you never imagined you could feel. Just trust me, I won’t hurt you.” I stop resisting him, and allow myself to just let go. I try to suck in air, but the seal he has created with his hand is too tight. He keeps his hand over my mouth and nose, I hear my muffled gasps, but I am outside of myself. The feeling of him inside me becomes so intense, so explosive, so amplified. I clutch his body close to mine, my nails digging into his back as he grunts my name, releasing into me. He uncovers my mouth as I gasp for air, my body still tingling from the aftereffects.
He lays his head on my bare chest as I run my hands through his hair. I break the silence.
“Taylor, please tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing is wrong.”
“That was something. I think you do remember what you were dreaming about.”
He pauses and as usual changes the subject back to me. “Tell me about your father.” He runs his finger along the inside of my right leg, which is bent, my knee pointed to the ceiling. I answer, hoping that by opening up to him, he will do the same with me.
“There’s not much to tell. He and my mom married, had me, and then he got into drugs, left my mom, and died.”
“How old were you?”
“Four.”
“Do you remember him?”
“Not really. I do know he is the only other person that I ever let call me Shy. I do remember him calling me that.” Taylor looks up at me, resting his chin on my chest and kisses the space between my breasts.
“Tell me about your father.” I say, flipping the script on him. He sighs.
“He’s not perfect, but he’s a good man. He taught me everything I know.” As usual, he keeps it short.
“What are your nightmares about?”
“I don’t like to talk about it Shy.”
“Please, let me in.” He remains silent. “Taylor, I have let you practically suffocate me just a few minutes ago. I trust you, you have to trust me.”
“Shy, the goal was not suffocate you just then. I want to tell you. I do. But, I have never told anyone and I don’t know how to start.” I realize that in order for him to expose himself, I will have to do the same. Is he is afraid I will judge him and leave? He has to know that I am here for him unconditionally. I feel crazy for what I am about to say, but it is the truth, a truth I have been trying to avoid. I look him in the eyes, the glow of the lamp casts a shadow on his face. I brush back his wild hair.
“Taylor. I love you.” He stares into my eyes, not saying a word. I feel a pang of regret, maybe I said too much, too fast. He puts his head back down on my chest and runs a trail with his index finger down my torso, stomach and legs.
“Don’t say that.” He says, sounding choked, and while I can’t be certain, I believe I feel the moisture of his tears on my chest.
After a few minutes of silence, he sits up. “I should sleep somewhere else until I sort out the meds. It’s been a while since I’ve used them.”
As frightened as the incident made me, I don’t want him to go. Part of what makes me feel so special are the things he can do with only me, like sharing a bed, but I know we should sleep separately tonight.
“Okay,” I say sadly.
He kisses me on the forehead and then presses his against mine. “I’m so sorry.” He hands me the keys to the bedroom and tells me to lock the door behind him, just in case.
I nod and he slips out of the bedroom. Even though he is in the same house, his absence makes me feel so alone.
The next morning, I find Taylor asleep in the guest bedroom. This is the first time I have seen him sleep in, and I don’t want to wake him up, so I watch him. I assume this is a result of the medication he said he would try. He looks so peaceful, a different picture from the chaos that woke us up last night. My stomach knots a little, having confessed already that I love him and not hearing the same in return. I fear the power dynamic is for certain in his favor now, but I reassure myself, knowing that I too have seen him at his most vulnerable. There is still a secret he doesn’t know: Love doesn’t cover the breadth of feeling I have for him. To just say I love him oversimplifies the situation. He has me totally and completely, and this I must keep a secret.
I watch him shift around for a second and open his eyes. He looks up at me and I smile at him.
“What time is it?”
“It’s around ten I think.”
His eyes widen with disbelief. “You let me sleep this late?”
“I figured you needed it. Plus, I loved watching you. You’ve never looked so tranquil.” I wonder if I should bring last night up: the attack, the asphyxiation, me telling him I love him. Instead, I leave it all behind and will let him bring it up if he decides.
Taylor pops up. “It’s the meds, they’re strong. Let’s have a lazy Sunday morning. I haven’t had one of those in a long time. First though, I would like to take you into the shower upstairs.”
I remember just weeks ago being alone in that bathroom, wondering about who has been with him in that shower. It feels so unreal that it will be me in there with him now. He goes into his closet and throws a T-shirt at me. It brings to mind the mysterious room in the back of the closet. I can’t help myself.
“What’s behind that door in your closet?” I ask nonchalantly. The fuss of him opening drawers in the closet ceases immediately. I imagine him rolling his eyes in exasperation.
After a pause, he responds. “I don’t think you are ready to know.”
“Shouldn’t I be the judge of that?”
Finally, he walks out in a huff. “Am I going to have to deal with this every day? You interrogating me?” I cannot believe he has the nerve to get snippy with me. This morning is not going to turn out as promising as I once thought.
“You know what? Yes, you are. You asked me to trust you last night and I did. Multiple times! I told you about my father. I even told you...” I am afraid to repeat the words to him. “Yet, you can’t share one thing with me. Not one! I must be the biggest idiot in the world. I am sleeping with someone who just takes and takes and doesn’t give anything back!”
“Take? What more can I give? I take care of you, I get you anything you need. Whatever you want, it’s yours!” It hits me like a dagger to the heart. He doesn’t even understand what I am talking about. He doesn’t even understand how to love. He thinks that sex and money equal love. I will have to show him. I have to teach this 32-year-old man how to love.
I calm myself down and I walk from the bed over to him. “Taylor, that’s not what I mean when I say I want you to give to me. Take the money, take Ladybug. I want you. I want what is inside of you.” He looks uncomfortable and confused. “It’s my fault for accepting all of this.” I gesture my hand to the surroundings.
“No, Shy. I want you to have the best.”
“And I appreciate that, but if that is all you want to give me, It’s not enough. I need you.”
“This is me.”
“This is part of you. I want all of you.” I kiss him softly. He guides me into his master bath instead of the upstairs bath, presumably because I am naked and he doesn’t want Harrison to see me. We get into the shower together. He creates a rich lather with a body wash and begins to rub me down.
He draws a deep breath.
“You asked me about my father. He is a good man, but I didn’t know him until I was seven. My mother took me away for several years before she died and only after she passed away was I reunited with my dad, who subsequently raised me.” I try to take it all in, I had always assumed that the woman Holden Sr. was married to was Taylor’s mom.
“I’m sorry about your mother.”
“I’m not.”
I am taken aback by the harshness of the statement.
“Why do you say that?”
“That’s for a different day Shy. Freud would have a field day.”
“You said your older brother has a different mother.”
“Yes, my stepmom. The only woman my dad has ever married.” I do the math and I begin to put the pieces together. I think it is safe to assume that Holden is the product of an extramarital affair. I appreciate his sharing and I don’t want to push too hard for fear he will clam up as he usually does. I turn to face him. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I like to learn about you.” He looks down and smiles. He grabs a bottle of shampoo and globs some into my hair. I close my eyes as he massages the heaping pile of suds.
“My nightmares, they are about the things that happened before I was taken in by my father. I haven’t told anyone about them, ever.” I try to open my eyes, but the suds sting. He changes the subject. “How did you feel about what I did to you last night?” I start to blush. I believe he is talking about when he covered my mouth.
“I, uh, was surprised, especially after what had just happened, that you would do that again, but it made everything so incredibly intense. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. Even though I couldn’t breath again, the outcome, the entire experience felt different.” I am speaking very loudly because I can’t see him.
“That’s because it was, we did it from a place of trust and with a different intent. And in the locker room. Did you like it rough?”
This line of questioning makes me very shy. “Umm, well couldn’t you tell?”
He laughs a little. “Well yes, but I mean, were you comfortable?”
“I am always comfortable around you. I mean if someone had told me I would be doing those things a few weeks ago, I would have thought they were mad, but everything feels so good with you. It’s like you know more about my body than I do.”
“That’s something we should fix.”
“I’ll do whatever makes you happy.” He pulls the shower head off the mount and rinses my hair. He grabs a bottle of conditioner and points at it, awaiting my approval. I nod. He adds it to my hair, combing it through with his fingers.
“You’re pretty good with hair sir.”
“My mom used to have long, wavy blond hair. I used to love watching her wash it and take care of it. With regard to your last statement, it should be whatever makes us both happy. Would you be open to some more play?”
“Play? I love to play.” I smirk at him as I lower myself onto the shower bench in front of him and watch him tip his head back with pleasure.
We spend the rest of our Sunday like lovers do, enjoying a meal and reading peacefully, content just to bask in each other’s glow. It is already late afternoon before I know it.
“I should go home. I need to start looking for a new job or work on getting my old clients back.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” His words tug at my heart. I desperately want to stay, but I feel like the healthy thing to do is go home and give him some space. We are growing very close very quickly.
“We can meet up for dinner during the week, or lunch. You are so busy anyway, it’s not like we could do much.”
“Do you want me to make any calls about openings?”
“No, let me do this on my own. I need to know I still got it.”
“Oh baby, you never lost it.” Taylor says in an old-fashioned voice. “I’ll write you a recommendation then.”
“That would be great. Do you mind if I list H.I. as an internship? Otherwise, my stint will look suspiciously short.”
“Of course. I’ll give you a ring once I am done with work tomorrow. Do you need Harrison to take you?”
“No, I’ll take the bug.” Taylor insists that he walk me to the car left parked in front of the house. I lean my back up against the car as Taylor leans his tall body over me, one of his hands supported on the hood of the car. He kisses my nose.
“Shy, you’ve done something to me. You know that?” I look down and smirk, he makes me feel so childlike around him. He cradles my chin, I can tell he doesn’t want to let me go. I don’t want to leave either and I fight with everything inside of me to pull away from him. “I’d never intentionally hurt you. You know that, right?”
I nod. Despite what happened last night, I believe him, especially after what he told me in the shower.
“Hasta mañana!” I say as I speed away in Ladybug, my heart heavy as I leave him in the rearview mirror, if only for a day.