Hot Mess (13 page)

Others began to get up and leave, and Sam leaned over to Rachel, whispering in her ear. "I believe that's our cue, Sweetheart."

Back in the jeep, Rachel could smell Sam everywhere. The spicy, masculine smell distracted her beyond reason. When his hand resumed its lazy circles on her thigh, she shifted.

"Sam…" She looked over at him, but his face was unreadable, in the dark with just passing streetlights for illumination. "I really need to tell you something."

"Okay. Tell me." His hand moved slowly up her thigh, and again, she stiffened, trying desperately to focus on what she had to say. Her literature was at the house, and everything she had read and said about this said to educate as well as inform. She wanted to wait until they got back to the house, but Sam's hand was moving farther up her skirt, and it felt so good…

"I can't tell you here. We need to be back at the house." Her voice was breathless, as Sam drove on.

"Okay." There was a smile in his voice that she couldn't see.

His hand dipped up her skirt, tracing the outline of her panties, and Rachel gasped in surprise.

"I've been curious about them."

"What?" She breathed.

"What kind of panties you wear." His voice was husky.

"Oh…" His hand continued tracing the elastic of her panty line, staying on the outside. Nobody had touched Rachel like this since high school, and she had to admit to herself, the memories of Kyle's fumbling, hormone-driven hands on her, were nothing compared to Sam's.

"I want you Rachel. I've wanted you since I first saw you singing to yourself in your car at the school. I didn't bring you out tonight and buy you a dress and all because I want to have sex with you. I mean, I do want to have sex with you, don't get me wrong. But that's not why I did all that. I'm not trying to pay for services rendered or anything, if that's what your reluctance is about." His voice was low and laden with desire.

"I know, Sam. It's not that I don't want you, too. It's just that, there's something I need to let you know about me."

“There's not a whole lot to know that would change the fact that you are a beautiful, smart, sexy woman, and I want you." They had made it to her driveway, and he was staring at her, intently.

"Well, come inside, and let's talk. Okay?"

He smiled, cryptically. "Before I forget…" He drew the envelope from the silent auction from his jacket pocket and handed it to Rachel. "This is for going with me to the Ball. I had the most beautiful date there."

Rachel opened the envelope, and saw it was the spa gift certificate she'd thought she'd lost to Veronica.

"Sam, you shouldn't have."

"Why not? Everyone deserves a little pampering," he threw her words back at her. "Besides, this is a pretty upscale place, I'm sure I didn't pay what it's worth."

"But you've already bought me this dress, and I…" She sputtered into silence, as his intent gaze unnerved her. Taking a deep breath, she finished awkwardly, "Come inside, and let's talk."

"Yes ma'am."

He followed her to the front door, and as soon as she had unlocked it, and led him inside, he wrapped his arms around her. Rachel tried to push away, but her attempts were feeble, at best. She knew what would happen as soon as they talked, and she wanted to enjoy him while he lasted. She surrendered to his grasp, then to his kiss.

Sam slanted his mouth over hers, and she opened up for him, knowing in her heart that this kiss would probably be their last. That was her last coherent thought for a while. His tongue invaded her mouth, conquering it with thrusts and swirls around hers. His hands gripped her waist tightly, pulling her close to him. Rachel dug her hands in his hair, unwilling to let go, seeking his heated mouth to take her, make her forget.

He groaned into her mouth, a low, throaty sound that made her knees weak. Sam's hands reached around and grabbed her rear, lifting her against his erection, and setting her atop a Bombay chest in her entry way. She whimpered, and Sam's mouth moved to her jaw, branding her with hot, wet kisses to her earlobe, before pulling it into his mouth and sucking. A shiver of delight shot through Rachel. She grabbed his shoulders, and leaned back, giving him access to more of her skin.

She moaned as his mouth continued trailing kisses down her neck, while his hands slowly pulled the straps of her dress off her shoulders, leaving kisses in their place, freeing her breasts. He kissed one, then the other, while his hands toyed with them alternately. Rachel had never felt anything close to the exquisite torture that Sam's mouth was putting her through, and she didn't want it to stop.

One of his hands traveled slowly to her skirt, pulling it up around her hips, then reached down between her legs. A gasping moan escaped Rachel, and it was a foreign sound. His hand found her heated wetness, and she could feel him smile around her nipple in his mouth. She suddenly wanted him everywhere, against her, skin on skin.

Against her will, her legs opened, and Sam stepped inside, before she wrapped them around his hips, squeezing, pressing against him to relieve some pressure. Sam's mouth traveled back up her neck to her mouth, as his fingers went to work on other parts of her body. One hand stayed on her breast, twisting the nipple into stiff points. The other hand stayed in her panties, and began circling the nub there, eliciting a shocked gasp. Alarms clanged dimly in her subconscious, as she tried to sit up, to stop him.

"…Wait, Sam…" Her hands moved to push him back.

"No."

"Excuse me?"

"Just feel it, Rachel." He whispered into her mouth. His voice was so seductive, she had no choice but to comply. His tongue continued its merciless assault on her mouth, and she was helpless to interact with it. She just reacted, while he made love to her body with his hands and mouth. The alarms continued to clang dimly, a warning sound, saying,
"Danger. Danger."

When he slipped a finger inside her heat, she moaned into his mouth, and Sam began to move a little faster. His thumb circled her clit, while the inserted finger danced in and out of her slickness. He groaned against her mouth, as he pushed his erection against her thigh, showing her how turned on he was.

When he slipped the second finger inside of her, and curled them both up slightly, the thumb continuing its circular motions on her nub, Rachel convulsed against him as waves of exquisite pleasure rocked her body. Sam's mouth swallowed her guttural moans and gasps as she came around his fingers. The shock of the intense sensations reminded Rachel of what happens when hormones ruled.

Tears sprang to her eyes, unbidden. What had she done? This had gone way further than the simple hug and kiss she had intended to allow before they had their talk, and now, here he was, planning to pick her up and cart her off to a bed, to make wild dangerous love to her.

"Sam…I…"

He did it. Sam's arms slipped around her, and picked her up, starting down the hallway in the direction of her bedroom.

"Sam…Stop, please." He must have heard the sudden panic in her voice, because he put her down, and held her face in his hands, looking deep into her eyes with lust-glazed eyes of his own. She could smell the scent of herself on his fingers, and it brought fresh tears.

"What is it, Baby?"

"I-I can't do this…We really need to talk about something."

"I don't want to talk." His mouth was on hers again, hot and wet, and almost completely irresistible.

"Well, you need to cool down, because we have to talk before we have sex." Her voice had returned, and she was sort of thinking again. Rachel tried to lead him into the living room, where she had the literature all laid out and ready to go. He resisted.

"Rachel, there's not anything that you can tell me that won't make me want to make love to you."

"You say that now, but you don't know what I have to say."

"Then say it, Rach." His lust-glazed eyes had cleared, and she took a deep breath.

"It's not that easy for me." She couldn't find the words to say what she needed to. She knew she was losing him, and she wiped at the edges of her eyes, where tears had sprung.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I've messed it up. This wasn't the way it was supposed to happen." They were supposed to come inside, have a cup of coffee, discuss it like adults. He would be understanding, and kiss her, and then they would make slow sweet love. They weren't supposed to have a quickie on the chest in the foyer, then talk. He would be pissed now, and she didn't want to make him angry.

"Did I push you too far, too fast? I'm sorry, I can't seem to control myself around you…" His lips were on her neck again.

She pushed him away, forcefully. "You have to stop doing that, Sam. I can't think straight."

He raked a hand through his hair, in a gesture of impatience. "I can't either, Rachel. I want you so bad…" He paced away from her. Expelling a long breath, he sank onto the sofa. Leaning forward, and putting his head in his hands, he breathed deep. Rachel could see his back rising with the cleansing breaths he was taking before letting them out with a whoosh.

"W-Would you like some coffee?" She could get this back on track. Everything would be okay.

"No, thank you." His voice was gravelly, and Rachel couldn't tell what he was thinking, because he still hadn't looked at her.

Taking a shaky breath, she sat in the chair next to the sofa. "I really like you Sam."

He looked up at her, then. "I like you too, Rachel. What is this about?" His rugged face looked damaged. It was flushed red, and his hair was tousled from him running his fingers through it. His eyes were red, as if he were going to cry, but that couldn't be right. He was a man, and a manly one, at that. Manly men didn't cry.

"Um…" Why couldn't she just say it?
I'm HIV positive.
That's all she had to say. "I'm…" But the words wouldn't come. "What I mean is, I'm…" Her mouth was open, and words were coming out, but it wasn't the right ones.

Sam was looking at her face, then his eyes dropped to the floor, taking in the distance between them, her flushed face, her obvious discomfort.

"You're not ready for this. I'm not sure why, because I sure as hell am. Maybe we are taking things too fast. We both have kids to think about, here. Maybe I should just go home. It wouldn't look right if I spent the night here, as bad as I want to."

A relieved sense of reprieve rushed through Rachel. "Yeah, maybe."

Before walking out the door, Sam turned to Rachel, "This isn't over. Not by a long shot."

From Remainingrachel.com

Readers, I must tell you that fear of rejection is a very real issue we all have to deal with. Not only fear of rejection from our families, but the fear of rejection extends into our daily lives, and how we live it. God made humans physically, in such a way as to enjoy each other. Without interaction from other members of our species, we are likely to whither up and blow away. AIDS and HIV status puts that interaction at risk. It hinders our ability to connect with people romantically, because of the fear of rejection.

Who wants to hear the words, "I just don't think this is going to work out for us?" I don't. When you have a disease with the social stigma attached to it that AIDS does, you are almost too scared to meet new people, to hear the never-ending litany of excuses. I myself have embarked on the quest for a romantic relationship, much against my will. Why against my will? Because it's hard. It's hard to get attached to somebody, only to open up to them and hear the inevitable, "I'm sorry, but I don't think this will work."

"But Rachel," you say. "Don't you want love?"

Yes, dear reader. More than almost anything.

Rachel was doing her damnedest to ignore Sam, completely appalled at what had happened Saturday night at her house. She was feeling guilty about letting things get so out of hand, as well as feeling a high degree of pissed off at herself. She had nothing to blame Sam for. If what he said was true, he felt the same way around her that she did around him, and the attraction was too strong to expect him to put brakes on. Normal people would just go with the flow and enjoy themselves.

She was pretending to read a novel in the drive-through line at school, when a knock on her window interrupted her. She hadn't even noticed him walk up. She was too immersed in her own abusive thoughts aimed at herself for her behavior this weekend. She turned her head to see Sam inches away from her face, a puzzled look on his face. Sighing inwardly, she rolled down her window.

"Why haven't you answered your phone, Rachel?" He demanded to know.

"I wasn't up to talking to you, Sam. I'm embarrassed about the other night," she said simply.

"Don't be embarrassed. You wanted to talk plenty then, and now you won't talk to me at all?"

She nodded, unable to meet his eyes, staring instead at the fur covered steering wheel of her car.

He saw where her gaze was fixed and asked, "I've neglected to ask you about your pimpin' ride…"

Happy for the change of subject, she brightened, "Oh, when I bought it, I was a little desperate for wheels, and it was the right price. I don't always have extra income for stuff like car payments and things. The girl who sold it to me was having to leave town fast and needed quick cash."