Seeing Black (5 page)

“Xander, please, I can’t take it anymore,” she
whispered, but it came out louder and needier than she intended. He
didn’t respond. He just continued his agonizingly slow pace without
caring that on the other side of the door a house full of people
were there for his birthday. When it came to Alexander, Jillian
seemed to lose all inhibitions, all sense of reason and morality,
and when he sped up his pace, she yelled. Even though the sound was
lost to the tempo of the music, Alexander muffled any remaining
noise with a deep kiss that took her over the edge.

He followed right behind, whispering in her ear,
“Jillian, baby.”

A lie told
often enough becomes the truth.

-Vladimir Lenin

For the next five minutes, they lay in bed, spent.
Jill got up first. She patted her hair down in an attempt to
control the craziness that was her hair. “God, people are going to
think we did something in here,” she said, pulling her skirt down
and her panties up.

Alexander propped his head up on one elbow and
looked at Jill, amused. “We did do
something
.”

“Shit.” She walked to the mirror to fix her makeup.
“How embarrassing.”

“Nah. Don’t worry ’bout it.” Alexander slowly got
out of bed. “They probably didn’t even notice we were gone.”

“I hope you’re right. I’d be mortif—”

“Unless they heard all your moaning and screaming.”
Jill flung her head back and pinned him with her big emerald eyes.
Her cheeks immediately crimsoned. “Relax, babe. I’m just kidding.
No one heard anything, and no one even knows we’re gone.”

Jill threw her hairbrush at him; he caught it before
it hit his chest.

When Alexander finally managed to get dressed, Jill
eyed him warily.

“Where’s the rest of it? All I see are camouflage
pants. Where’s the shirt?” Alexander asked.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t buy the shirt. That’s the entire
costume. I figured that if you got away with not being a raisin or
a loin-clothed superhero, the least you could do is be a half-nude
soldier. Trust me. It’s a hell of a lot more than what your
brother’s going to be wearing.” Jill smiled, suddenly not caring
whether Rambo was from the 50s or the 90s. As long as the twins
were half naked, everything was right in the world. “Oh, and the
machine gun and the wig, of course.”

“Of course.” Alexander rolled his eyes. “Babe, I’m
not wearing this wig. Is it your goal in life to humiliate me?” He
scowled.

“Sort of.” She was helping him with his plastic
guns. “But you have to wear the wig. You have to,” she whined. He
pulled the black, mullet-like shiny wig out of her hand and groaned
when he put it on his head and looked at the mirror.

“Well, you’ll just have to control your jealousy
when all the women are drooling after this.” He pointed at his
chest. Even though he was joking, Jill was suddenly a little uneasy
about it. All the women
would
be drooling, including her.
This wasn’t such a good idea.

“Maybe you should wear a shirt, after all.”

“Oh relax, Red. You know I was just teasing you. The
only woman who matters is standing right here next to me.”

“Well, you better keep that gun of yours in check.”
Jill said while tucking a plastic rifle in his pants forcefully. He
laughed and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“God, I love that you did this for me, but with you
dressed like that, I really just want everyone to go home, and I
want you alone again. Babe—”

“Stop, Xander. We have a house full of guests for
you. I’m supposed to be hosting. Come on. Hurry up.”

When they finally stepped out of the room, a barely
dressed Nordic god greeted them by the bar with a cone-breasted pop
star. Jill squealed and jumped up and hugged Oliver. “I knew that
costume would be perfect.”

“Okay, okay, calm down, Red.” Alexander interrupted.
Heather was talking to Oliver, who didn’t seem to notice all the
other women lingering around his mostly naked self. “Who the fuck
are you supposed to be?” Alexander asked Oliver.

“He-Man.” He shook his head. “Don’t ask.”

There were about fifty costume-clad people in their
small apartment. The music pounded in the background—eighties style
rock music. Luckily, Heather had invited their neighbors;
otherwise, the party would have ended as quickly as it began. Also
luckily, the apartment complex mainly housed other college
students, so this was not a community unaccustomed to loud parties.
The counter top was laden with red cups, hard liquor, and chips. By
the refrigerator, a cold keg of beer sat in a metal bucket full of
ice. The girls had decorated the room with balloons and a
Happy
Birthday
banner that went across the living room and fell
slightly towards the dancing guests. A group swayed to the music in
the living room, another group congregated around the landing right
outside their front door, smoking, and another group hovered over
the drinks in the kitchen.

“Who wants to have some fun—eighties-style!” Heather
called out.

Alexander cheered. “Hell, I wasn’t around, but I
know exactly the kind of things people did the eighties!” He said
with a big smile.

“No way, Alexander! This is not going to put you
back in rehab. I’m sure Heather didn’t mean drugs.”

“Neither did I!” Alexander deadpanned. “I was
talking about drinks. God, babe, you really need to relax.” He
pulled away from Jill.

“I meant
Seven Minutes in Heaven
and
Truth
or Dare
and
Spin the Bottle
. I meant music from the
big-hair bands, things like that.” Heather looked at the three of
them. “Google it. I’m not explaining
Seven Minutes in Heaven
or
Spin the Bottle
to you three adults. It’s ridiculous.”
Heather scoffed and continued mixing drinks and going costume by
costume, trying to explain to Oliver what it was that everyone was
wearing.

“I’ll say it again, the eighties were confusing. I’m
glad we missed them.” Oliver laughed. “Although, I must say,
Heather, tofu does the body good. You look hot.”

Alexander pulled Jill aside. “Sorry, I didn’t mean
to get angry. I’ve never done drugs again, not since Helen’s
funeral. I hope that’s not something you’re concerned about.”

“No. Well, I wasn’t until just now. I mean I admit I
think about it every once in a while. Seeing you in a hospital
after an overdose isn’t something I want to relive.”

“It’s been five years. I’m sober. I have been since
that day.”

“Sorry. I don’t know why I overreacted. I love you.”
She gave him a chaste kiss on this lips. “Forgive me?”

“In that outfit? Most definitely. You’re forgiven
for everything.”

The party went off without a hitch. Everyone danced,
ate, and drank, a lot. As in,
a lot!

***

Alexander was hot. Damn hot! Gorgeous, really. But
that’s not the thought that Jillian had the next morning when she
woke up sweating. Temperature-wise, he was burning hot, and the leg
and arm draped over hers the following morning were smothering her
and making her sweat. Jill was on her back with Alexander’s face
tucked under her neck and half of his body wrapped around her.
Quietly unwrapping herself wouldn’t be easy. It almost seemed like
a sacrilege when she looked down to see his perfectly chiseled
naked body against hers, but she had to go.

As stealthy as possible, she reached first for the
arm that rested across her torso. With the gentlest of touches, she
lifted the arm, trying to maneuver a way out of his grip. The man
was like an octopus. She felt as if he had eight arms and legs
wrapped around her. When she lifted the arm, he snuggled his face
closer to her neck. He mumbled something incoherent under his
breath, but he seemed to be asleep. The arm of steel tightened
around her waist. Getting out of this mess of arms and legs was
going to be difficult.

His raspy morning voice whispered into her ear,
startling her. “I’m not letting go.”

“Oh, so you
are
awake.”

“How could I sleep with all this moving and
masterminding coming from your way?”

She laughed because she really had been trying to
plan an escape. “Xander, I need to go. I have to be at Rocco’s in
an hour. I still have to shower and get dressed.”

His grip tightened. “No. You. Stay. Here.” He kissed
her neck between words, moving down her neck to her collarbone.
Suddenly, his body replaced the web of limbs. He was right on top
of her, holding her arms down and moving his kisses lower.

She cleared her throat. “Um, I have to go, Xander. I
don’t have time—” Unable to control it, she let out a moan.

He ignored her and continued to work his way down
lower and lower. “Who’re you fooling, babe?” He ran a finger up and
down her panties. “You’re wet and ready. Do you really want me to
stop?”

No!
“No,” she barely got the words out as
Alexander slid her panties to the side and used his mouth to show
her that being a little late would be worth it. After he used his
mouth then fingers and finally mouth again, she didn’t care she was
late. It had definitely been worth it. Really worth it.

Fifteen minutes later, she sighed. “Wow.”

“Are you ever going to say anything other than ‘wow’
after sex?”

“We didn’t have sex.” She grinned.

“True. Are you ever going to say anything other than
‘wow’ after I give you an orgasm?” Before she could answer, he held
out two fingers. “Two orgasms.”

“Yes. Chocolate cake. That was most definitely
chocolate cake, and I really don’t feel nauseated. Heather doesn’t
know what she’s talking about.”

“What are
you
talking about?”

She giggled, slipping out of bed. “It’s a long
story, and now I really am going to be late.” She gave him a brief
kiss on the lips and ran out the door to the bathroom, stumbling on
the sheets that lay scattered all over the floor. Alexander laughed
at her frantic state. A few minutes later, she returned to a
sleeping Alexander. It was a nice sight to see him on her bed,
still naked. He was so big that he took up most of the bed. She
quickly stepped into black linen pants and a gauzy emerald green
blouse, applied some light makeup, and grabbed her purse and phone.
Not wanting to wake him, she gave Alexander a feather-light kiss on
the cheek and whispered “I love you” as she closed the door to her
bedroom.

When she took in the disaster from the party that
was her living room, she shook her head and cringed. A huge
undertaking awaited her upon her return.

She got in her car and drove to Davenport, a
ranching community in Austin, where her father had instructed she
meet him. He had explained it was one of his homes. Her nerves were
getting the best of her as she drove by large houses all hidden by
trees, gates, more trees, and a guard. She continued to drive
through the community: a huge championship golf course to her right
and more houses on her left. When she reached the end of the
street, a large wooden gate with a little building housing a guard
met her. She gave the guard her name. He made a quick call and let
her in.

Her heart beat wildly, and her gut, which had been
mulling between fight or flight, was now taking the flight stance.
It clearly had a mind of its own and was telling her, “
Run, you
stupid girl. This is a bad idea!
”

But it would be a worse idea to find her friends
hurt. Even though she knew this was not one of her best decisions,
she had no real choice.

She took the long hilly drive up the long, as in,
really long
, driveway until she finally reached the mammoth
home. Calling the house a mansion was an understatement. She parked
her car under the roof that extended from the front of the home
lined with keystone columns. She didn’t drive a clunker or
anything. It was only a few years old, yet it seemed completely out
of place at the ostentatious mansion.

An older man, perhaps mid-sixties and average height
greeted Jill. He had thinning hair and was of Latin descent. He
wore black pants, a white button shirt, a black vest, and a bowtie.
She had never seen a butler, but this particular man epitomized the
stereotypical butler in stereotypical butler garb from his clothes
to his formal demeanor.

“Good morning, Ms. Stone. Welcome. Please, come
in.”

Jill stepped into the house in wonderment. The first
things she noticed were the floor-to-ceiling windows at the rear
wall; all that could be seen were acres upon acres of luscious
greenery. Jill was in awe of the sheer magnitude of the home. An
enormous wrought iron chandelier hung from the foyer above a
beautiful round table in the center that housed a huge bouquet of
exotic flowers. The domed ceilings gave the house a Mediterranean
feel. The massive staircase had ornate ironwork railings that led
to the second and third floor. The walls were painted a simple
cream color with white accents. All the draperies were in deep rich
earth tones, as well as all the leather furniture. The house felt
like a home: warm, welcoming, lavish. It was definitely
ostentatious, but in a tasteful way. Jill took a second to take in
her surroundings as she followed the butler through the double
doors that led outside.

“Please, have a seat. Mr. Taylor will be right out.
Help yourself to some juice or champagne. Brunch will be served
shortly.” Jill nodded as the man retreated back inside.

To help ease her jitters, Jill took a champagne
flute and gulped down half the flute without much thought. She sat
back and looked out to the ponds and gardens on the golf course
while she waited on Rocco. She checked her watch. In about ninety
minutes, Alexander would undoubtedly call her if she didn’t call
him first.

Suddenly, all her jitters vanished.
Surely, it
was the champagne.
“How are you this morning, child?”