Someone to Love

Chapter 2 The Experiment

Bed?
I watch as the moon lies over the water like a lover, the waves lapping the shore with their strange luminescent glow. Cruise weaves us down a deserted black highway with curtains of evergreens erect on either side. He's driving me to a yet undisclosed location to which he gleefully confessed happens to house his mattress. And, I'm pretty sure after he has his way with me, there's a good chance he'll dismember my body.
I can't believe how stupid I am to get in the car with a stranger. They say never let an abductor take you to a second location - not that I've technically been abducted since I willfully entered the vehicle. Although in my defense, plenty of abductees have crawled into the passenger's side under the pretense of a burger and fries.
We drive out of civilization, just as I suspected, and into a black hole that eventually leads to a sign that reads, Carrington County, then another less prominent sign reading, Elton House, Bed and Breakfast.
"My mom runs the place," he volunteers as we pull in. "It was passed down from my grandfather." The muscles in his jaw tighten as he inspects the tall yellow structure. We turn down an offshoot and land in front of a small brick house tucked behind the B&B. "I have an extra room. The bathroom doesn't have a lock, but I promise, I'll knock up a storm before barging in - maybe." He gives a devilish grin before killing the engine. "The room is yours if you want it, for as long as you need it."
"Thank you." I think. "But I don't have any money for rent," I confess. And I'm pretty sure my scholarship doesn't cover shacking up with abnormally good-looking boys. But, I guess one night won't hurt. He seems mostly sane. Although, I'm not sure I could take him if he decides to attack. I'll have to sleep with a stiletto at the ready should the need arise to put out an eye.
"That's all right. I'll let you cook me breakfast in exchange for room and board." He gravels it out as if he's the meal in question. "We'll call it even."
I follow him to the tiny porch as he lugs my suitcase. The air is icy as an Arctic breeze, causing a cloud to form around our heads from the simple act of breathing.
Cruise glows with the powder-white halo surrounding him, and I give an impish grin at what might happen tonight.
He opens the door and flicks on the lights before taking a step back onto the porch.
"Ladies first." He waves me in.
It's clean inside. A large living room opens up to a kitchen filled with stainless appliances and dark hardwood floors. Truthfully, I expected to find a colossal bong centered on the table like a vase, or possibly a meth lab sprouting from the sink. But to my surprise there's no evidence of criminal activity.
"Nice," I say, making my way toward the U-shaped sofa. "Thanks for letting me crash on your couch."
"You won't have to. I have a bed with your name on it." His brows arch with an air of seduction as he leads me to a small room with an oversized bed. A maple dresser is set in the corner. It looks harmless enough. Nothing to imply deviant behavior - no sign of rope or duct tape, so already I feel better.
"I'm in this one." He turns on the lights next door, revealing an unmade bed with a river of socks migrating onto the floor. There's an abandoned pizza box on the nightstand with a bevy of candy wrappers strewn over it.
I see his nightly conquests leave him famished, and his need for handy snacks outweigh any concerns he might have for nutrition.
A pair of chains dangle from his bedpost, and my stomach lurches with an unnatural level of excitement - or fear - maybe both.
"Bathroom." He nods behind me. "I'll get a fire going and warm the place up. Heater's out of commission, but I'll fix it." Cruise leans into the doorframe and examines me with a proficient thoroughness. His eyes lock over mine, and the hint of a corrupt smile plays on his lips.
God, he's gorgeous. I'm pretty sure a face like that and a bed less than ten feet away is a dangerous combination.
"So what do you think?" He smolders.
"Um..." I'm concerned I've missed a boatload of clues that would have afforded a more experienced one-night stand aficionado the right to be testing out those mattress springs by now. "I think it's nice of you to let me spend the night." Really? Nice of you to let me spend the night? I'm pretty sure those words have never been uttered under this roof before. In fact, I'm betting niceties such as please and thank you have only been screamed under sexual duress in his deviant den, laden with chains and stale pizza.
He leads us back to the living room, and I take a seat on the sheepskin rug just shy of the hearth. I'm no detective, but I can deduce that the furry carcass I've planted myself on has seen some serious mileage in the soiled-with-sin department. Although, right about now, I'm so freezing I don't really care about the questionably-defiled status of said dead creature. I'm so cold I might actually jump in the fire just to thaw out.
A bouquet of flames ignites in the small opening, and the room picks up a rosy glow.
"Thank you," I whisper as the heat curls around me.
"Anything for you." He growls it out with a perverse smile hedging on his lips. Cruise lands himself by my side. We watch the fire lick the air with its lusty forked tongues while I try to surmise the definition of "anything" and the physical agility it might entail.
"So what happened last summer?" In the event he thinks my girl parts might be a good repository for the hard-on blooming in his jeans, I thought I'd throw in the vague mention of his ex. "Rumor has it, that it was pretty harsh." I brace myself for the unromantic tragedy that's about to unfold. I'm thinking bare-breasted coeds are involved.
"Just your run-of-the-mill breakup. But everyone's got one of those, right?" He taps my shoe with his and scoots in. The thick veins in his arms protrude like cables, and his muscles bulge for no good reason. It makes me want to touch them and see what they feel like.
"No bad breakup for me," I whisper. "If you don't give your heart away, you can't get it broken."
His pale eyes latch onto mine. He holds my gaze, heavy as steel.
"No truer words were ever spoken," he says it low, sad as if he means it but too much.
Cruise softens and gives a little smile. He washes over me with a delicate gaze, and my insides pinch tight.
There's something brewing inside him, inside me, and I've never felt this way before. It's probably just his hormonal superpowers having their effect on me - our pheromones conducting their obligatory exchange. I bet he slays women nightly with that same "broken heater" routine. I suspect he'll volunteer to keep me warm by way of body heat any moment now. Or at least I'm hoping.
"I can see why girls flock to you." I turn my face toward the fire in an effort to break the spell.
"Why's that?" He catches my gaze again, and this time its impossible to look away.
"Because anybody can have you." I don't bother telling him he's gorgeous. I'm sure he's well aware as evidenced by all the positive vaginal reinforcement. "You haven't known me for three hours, and I bet if I ripped my jeans off, you wouldn't turn down the offer." Crap. I think I just subliminally propositioned him.
"You're a smart girl, Kenny - beautiful too." He gives the curve of a lewd smile and everything in me burns with heat.
I've never been called beautiful by a person of the penis before and this pleases me with a strange intensity. It's as if I've needed it, craved it like a glass of water for my parched affection.
"So when do we get to the ripping of the jeans?" He inquires with far more eagerness than expected, and a titter of excitement prickles through me.
"I take it you think my experiment should commence with you." Please God say yes.
"The experiment in which you attack the unsuspecting crotches of every living male on campus? Unless, of course, you plan on including corpses in your little jaunt on the wild side. We house those in the health and sciences building." He gives a disbelieving smile. "Let the good times roll, Kenny." It comes out a dare as he peers at me seductively from under his hooded lids - a dirty grin forces his dimples to twitch in turn.
"I'm starting with Pennington, remember?" I'm quick to shoot him down. Pennington probably counts as a corpse. "Besides, it would make my mother's life if he were my first ex-husband. I think it's the cash payout that has her drooling more than it is some romantic notion that her daughter and the son of her once upon a best friend, go down in matrimonial flames together."
"Sounds painful."
"It will be." I take in his full lips, his high-set cheeks. He's driving me insane by way of his five o'clock shadow. His lids hang heavy as he openly eyes my cleavage. "Although - I should probably get some experience under my belt before I go after a prize like Pennington. You know, practice the fine art of saliva swapping, among other things." God, how I would love to practice the fine art of transferring bodily fluids with, Cruise Let-Me Deliver-You-from-Your-Virginity Elton.
He examines me an inordinate amount of time, uncertain of whom I profess to be. He picks up my hand and presses his lips over the back, soft and warm. It sets everything in me on fire.
"I'm more than happy to offer up my tutorial services." He leans back and sweeps his eyes over me as if I were a meal, but there's a sadness lurking in them just beneath the surface.
"So when do we begin?" I'm not sure I'm ready to give it all away right here in Massachusetts next to a blazing fire with a guy I hardly know, but a small part of me is begging for just that.
"Tomorrow." He gives a quick wink while helping me to my feet. "Why don't you get to bed."
"Where you going?" My stomach bottoms out. He's probably got an entire stream of girls lined up for the night who are more than qualified to handle whatever he's willing to dish out - and because of my incessant need to preserve my virginity, I won't be one of them.
"There's a cold shower with my name on it," he says, walking away.
Cold shower?
I watch as Cruise disappears into the hall and the pipes squeal to life from the bathroom.
I can't believe a player like Cruise Elton wouldn't try to take advantage of me. It's obvious virgins aren't high on his to-do list tonight.
Maybe Cruise Elton isn't the player he makes himself out to be.
Deep down inside I hope he's not.
Cruise
In the morning, I wake with a start from a disturbing dream where I'm drowning in a sea of long, soft limbs.
I'm not sure what I find so disturbing about it since it's otherwise classified as a typical Friday night. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and throw myself in the shower.
After, I make an effort to put on a pair of jeans that have actually seen the inside of a washing machine this month.
Kenny's door is shut, so I can only assume she's still here. I imagine her sprawled over the bed, naked, with her hair fanned around her like long black feathers. I'd love to see that in person. If she wasn't so damn sweet, I would have pressed a little harder to witness the sight firsthand.
I make breakfast for the two of us while a sea of dark clouds watch silent outside the kitchen window. They lay over the sky, heavy and full, like wool blankets ready to burst.
Kenny ambles into the room with her hair swept back in a ponytail. Her long T-shirt is tight over her chest, annunciating the fact she's not wearing a bra. Not that I mind her beautiful round nipples staring me in the face.
The air sizzles - the room sparks to life with her in it. Kenny manages to brighten the house with a glow all her own.
"Morning, sunshine." I give a crooked smile while jabbing at a mountain of bacon. I land enough on each plate to clog both our arteries, decades before it's time.
"Morning." She moans into the word. Her mascara is slightly smeared. She's sleepy-eyed and sexy as hell.
"You dream about me?" I land two fully loaded plates onto the table and dart back for coffee.
"I guess the more important question is did you dream about me?" She takes a seat and looks up with those diamond-cut eyes causing my mind to draw a fucking blank. Everything about Kenny feels like a dream, especially the part about not sleeping with me last night, which is mostly my fault. I've yet to corrupt a virgin, and I'm pretty sure I'm not starting with Kenny.
Her eyes drift to a pair of leashes by the backdoor, and my blood turns to ice because I know what's coming.
"So, where are the dogs?" She says it playful, far too innocent to be faking. I thought for sure the vulgar nature of the leashes, the thick metal spikes, the red leather tassels dripping from the collar would set off the fact they were exclusively for human purposes - or inhuman, take your pick.
"Are they outside?" She peers out the window still fixing her innocence on the prospect of a furry companion.
"There are no dogs, Kenny." I lift my chin to her slightly amused, and my stomach drops at how gorgeous she is in this slightly disheveled state of early morning glory. "Those leashes aren't for walking, young lady." I swallow down a laugh.
"Looks like you run a pretty sophisticated playboy-for-hire ring."
Her eyes widen and that dimple goes off, melting my insides in a way I've never felt before.
"Is that my first lesson?" She breathes it out like a proposition. "Leather and lace?"
A smile digs into the side of my cheek. "You're not ready for that, sweetie." A heated moment passes between us as I raise my mug. "Merry Christmas."
"That's today!" Her face brightens. "I forgot all about the fact it's Christmas Eve. Merry Christmas." Her smile slowly diminishes as she runs her fork through her eggs. "It's weird though. I've never been away from my mom, or my brother, Morgan. He's out in Oregon on a baseball scholarship."
"I have a sister you can adopt for the holiday if you feel the need to rain down gifts on someone." Molly is a certified head-case, but I leave that part out.
Kenny could slather me with gifts of the physical variety if she felt so moved, but I'm slow to bring up that prospect.
"I would love to rain down gifts on your sister, that is if I had the money." She makes a face. "My neighbor is a stewardess and I was on standby for a cheap flight. She helped me get the ticket so I had to come. And here I am on Christmas, pretty much alone."
"Looks like Santa just left a perfectly good brunette in my stocking. You'll have to spend it with me."
"Well if Santa insists." She runs her tongue over her lower lip, and my insides burn with a fire all their own.
The sudden urge to rake the table clean and take her right here crops up, but I'm quick to resist the craving.
"Looks like we'd better get a tree," I say, exhilarated by the idea of doing anything with Kenny. I take in the long river of ebony hair sweeping over her shoulder, her tan legs that ride up past her T-shirt, and wonder if she would ever want someone like me. "The tree - real or fake?"
"I want everything we share to be real." She winks a quick smile.
So do I. "Sounds like a date."