Flawed Beauty (11 page)

With water pouring off them, they
stumbled into the apartment. With urgent and impatient movements, he pushed her
against the closed door and pressed his body against hers. She laced her
fingers behind his neck and strained up into his kiss. She shivered when he ran
his hands down her shoulders and over her breasts. While continuing to hold her
captive against the door, he lowered his lips and rained a trail of scorching
kisses down her neck. Through the fabric of her Zeal’s T-shirt, he nipped at
her nipples, made elongated in equal parts by the cold rain and his fiery
touch. She arched her back involuntarily into his feasting mouth. Desire raced
a trail of heat from where his lips touched to the apex of her thighs.

Roughly and impatiently, he tugged
her sopping wet T-shirt over her head, leaving her standing in her jeans and
sheer pink bra.

“Oh, God!
I want you so much,” he whispered
against her lips. Moving his hands behind her, he made quick work of
unfastening her bra. With his chest heaving, he slowed down enough to ease the
straps off her shoulders with trembling fingers. She dropped her arms to allow
the bra to fall to the floor.
Jace’s
eyes slid down
her bared torso to her ample breasts. Exhaling deeply, he once more dropped his
lips down to press kisses over the top of her breasts before sucking a nipple
into his mouth.

“Oh,” she gasped as she closed her
eyes, pressing his head closer to her body as the fire of desire threatened to
burn her alive. As he sucked and nipped at her breasts, she moaned, “Please, oh
God, please,” she begged, not sure what for. He wrapped his arms under her
bottom and scooped her up. While continuing to thrust his tongue deep into her
mouth, he began making his way to her bedroom.

He allowed her to slide down his
body until her feet hit the floor. With his magic fingers, he began to unfasten
her black work pants. Suddenly, with a groan and extreme effort, he ripped
himself away from her and bent at the waist to inhale deeply.

Struggling to control her own
breathing, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to do this,” he said,
panting as if he’d run the hundred-yard dash.

Fear and shame had her passion
cooling immediately. Turning, she moved to her bed and grabbed her housecoat to
cover her nakedness. Unable to hide the hurt in her voice, she murmured, “I
don’t understand.”

Eliminating the distance between
them, he turned her towards him, grabbed her face between his hands, and placed
his lips almost desperately against hers. “Oh, baby, baby, baby,” he murmured
against her lips. “I want you desperately… more than air. But I don’t want our
first time to be like this. I want it to be special. I want you to be sure. I
want you to be ready. Okay?”

He continued to kiss her tenderly
and rubbed her back gently, soothing her, and letting her know it was
okay.    

After placing kisses on her nose,
forehead, and cheeks, he pulled back and smoothed her wet hair away from her
face. “This really sucks,” he said with a small laugh.

“It really does,” she agreed.

“Are we okay?”

“More, than okay,” she said softly.

“I have to work tomorrow, but how
about dinner at my place? I’ll make you my specialty.”

“And what would that be?” she asked
with a grin.

“Why, pizza, of course.”

She couldn’t stop the laugh which
bubbled up and escaped her lips. He grinned back at her.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift
tomorrow, around seven, okay?”

Joyously, she nodded.

§§§

“…Now,
Tanga
,
when Mr. Smith gets here, I want you stand in the middle of the room and slowly
turn completely around like we practiced. Okay?”

With her fingers in her mouth, she
whimpered, “But it’s embarrassing.”

Lifting a hand to brush her styled
hair away from her face, he said softly, “As I’ve told you repeatedly, you have
nothing to be embarrassed about.”

With her lips quivering, she asked,
“What’s going to happen after?”

With a deep, exasperated sigh, he
said, “
Tanga
, we’ve discussed this. Nothing in life
is free. We all have to do our part. This is your part. If you think about it,
it’s really a small thing to do for your family. Don’t you think?”

“But I’m scared,” she said, still
unconvinced.

Firmly, he stated, “You will do as
you are told. I don’t want you to bat an eyelash if the man wants you take off
your nightgown. You hear me, girl?”

“I think this is wrong, Daddy.
Please don’t make me do this, please!”

“You listen to me, you little tramp.
You will do as you are told. Don’t make me force you…”

Tate woke up with a gasp. She slid a
hand over her face to discover tears. What would make her have this dream? She
should have gone back to see Dr. Randall. She assumed it had to do with the
kiss between
Jace
and the redhead. But that was
innocent.

With a flip of her head, she glanced
at the clock radio, four thirty-three. With the palm of her hand, she thumped
her forehead. Two hundred twenty-two dollars and thirty-three cents, the cost
of her software package! Crawling out of the bed, she clicked on the lamp and
padded into the kitchen. Earlier the day before, she’d gotten a newspaper. With
a quick flick of her wrist, she snapped open the paper and began searching for
another part-time job. There had to be something she could do to make some
extra money. As she combed the ads, her hopes began to wane. Her time was so
limited, what with going to college fulltime and working at night and during
the weekend mornings. When was she supposed to squeeze in another job?

She shoved the paper onto the floor
and snapped on her laptop. With a few strokes of the keypad, she entered into a
help-wanted website. As she scrolled down, she saw in big, bold letters:
WANTED
– younger companion for older gentleman; all expenses paid.

Her heart began to pound and her
hands began to sweat. Fragments of her earlier dream, mixed with the ad,
forced
Mr. Smith into her mind.

She swallowed convulsively as she
waited for Mr. Smith to arrive. She glanced down at the nightgown she wore. She
was startled to realize its sheer fabric had become see-through in the bright
lights of the room. Tears welled up in her eyes and splashed onto the sheer
material. Her head snapped up when the door opened. Her father entered first,
followed by an older, bald man. He had a grey mustache which seemed to curl at
the ends. He smiled as he made his way towards her.

She wanted to turn from his gaze – a
gaze
which
made her uncomfortable; unclean even, but
she didn’t dare. There would be hell to pay if she so much as flinched. As he
neared, his smell reminded her of her grandmother’s house – old and stale. She
held her breath when he reached out a hand and tipped her face up to his. He
smiled down at her.

“Why, aren’t you the prettiest
little thing?” Mr. Smith straightened, and addressing his question to her
father, asked, “Can I see her without that thing on?”

“Of course.
Tanga
, go
ahead, honey,
take
off the nightgown. Show Mr. Smith
how pretty you are.”

The tears really started to fall
now, but fear had her trembling hands unbuttoning the gown and allowed it to
fall.

“Now, spin around like we practiced,
sweetheart,” her father said encouragingly.

Her body infused with bright color,
but she slowly moved in a tight circle. When her back was to Mr. Smith and her
father, she felt a hand touch her on shoulder.

“Hey, no touching until the deal is
done,” she heard her father say.

 
“How… long
do I get to keep her as my… my… my companion?”
Mr. Smith choked.

“We’ll discuss that in the next
room,” her father answered simply.

“And she’s never been… touched?”

“Never.”

With her head bowed, she heard Mr.
Smith say, “I don’t know, the price is a little steep. How do I know she’ll be
worth it?”

“Mr. Smith, we are not bargaining
here. I have someone else coming tomorrow. Either you want her or you don’t.
But there can only be one first. The next time, the price may be less, but the
reward of being first will be gone. The choice is yours.”

“What time is the next appointment
tomorrow?” Mr. Smith asked.

“Five o’clock.”

“Let me think about it, it’s a lot
of money. I’ll let you know before five, okay?”

“As you wish,” her father answered.

With a violent thrust of her hand,
Tate swept her laptop onto the floor. Why? Why would her father subject her to
that? He was her father. The man who was supposed to protect her from men such
as Mr. Smith, not encourage it – solicit it, even. With a sob, Tate laid her
head down on her forearm and cried. She hated herself for allowing what
happened nearly ten years before affect her so deeply. All the many counselors
she’d seen over the years had told her not to let it define her life. But what
choice did she have? It had defined her life. She’d lost not only her
naïve
innocence,
but also the only family she’d ever known – no matter how deviant they’d been.

The words of her father once more
passed through her mind:
But there can only be one first. The next time, the
price may be less, but the reward of being first will be gone. The choice is
yours.
She wished with all her heart she’d been given a choice on
who
her first would be. But she hadn’t. While she’d been
saved from the clutches of Mr. Smith, she’d had her virginity stolen by the
equally cruel Nick Tracey. The string of others who followed him hadn’t really
been her choice; but a necessity. Not that it had helped salve her wounds, no
matter how many times she tried to obliterate the image of Nick above her,
panting, holding her shoulders down tightly, with the bodies of others.

She was dirty, stained,
no
good. How many times had she heard those words?
Jace
wouldn’t want her if he knew. She could already see
the disgust marring his smooth features. She couldn’t take that. She didn’t
know what to do anymore. Everything seemed to be spiraling out of control.
She’d been taking care of herself for such a long time and she was tired. She’d
guarded herself against this very thing. She was so stupid!

Scrubbing the tears from her face,
Tate, not caring it was five in the morning, moved to the cabinet and removed
the bottle of Jim Beam she’d gotten as a gift from
Zek
last Christmas. Removing the packaging, she grabbed a glass and pounded the
fiery liquid. She poured another measure and walked woodenly back to her
bedroom. She’d have to break it off with
Jace
. He
deserved someone much better than
Patanga
Moon –
someone whose father hadn’t tried to sell her to the highest bidder.

She opened the door to her medicine
cabinet and withdrew the pills she sometimes used to sleep. She
so
wanted
to sleep and not think about her father, Mr. Smith, the two hundred,
twenty-seven dollars, and thirty-three cents, Nick Tracey, or even
Jace
.
Jace
, who would surely be lost to her if he discovered who she really
was.
While she normally only took one, today, she decided to double the
amount. She read the directions, which recommended two tablets anyway, so she
shoved the pills into her mouth and drank the whiskey in her glass. With a heavy
heart, she crawled back into her bed and sobbed – deep, wrenching sobs.

There was a play of light and shadow
in the enclosed space. A constant sound of dripping water seemed to echo
throughout the massive area. The humid air smelled dank with an underlying hint
of vegetation. Up above was an angel with glowing hair. The angel held her by
her wrist and spun her round and round. Laughter welled up inside her and
spilled from her lips. Her head swam as the angel continued going round and
round. Gradually, the spinning decreased,
then
stopped. She swayed on her feet, liking the dizzying sensation in her head.

The angel patted her cheek and said,
“You are so beautiful, like a little doll.”

“I’m not a doll,” she answered, “I’m
a dandelion.”

Hands gripping her shoulders and
shaking her, then hands slapping her sharply against her cheeks slowly brought
Tate back into consciousness. She desperately wanted to remain in the large
room with the angel. She’d had that dream repeatedly over her lifetime. It made
her happy. In her youth, she wondered if the dream meant deep down she had a
death wish. Now, she just took it as the soothing balm it was.