The Cave Ch. 04

"I think I'm done soaking."

"Here, let me." He discarded, turned his cards face down on the couch, and got down on his knees. Drying my foot for the second time today, he ran the hand towel from the back of my calf to my toes. "You should leave it unbandaged for the night. So it can breathe."

I nodded. "That reminds me. I, uh, have to pick up my car at the impound lot in Virginia tomorrow. Do you think you could give me a ride?"

He frowned and I thought maybe I had overstepped my bounds again. He had already done so much for me over the course of the day. "They towed your car after one night?"

Ah, shit, I thought. I gave him an ignorant shrug. What was one more white lie? "I guess."

"Well aren't they on the ball," he muttered. He let the towel fall and continued to massage my foot with long, strong fingers. They felt warm on my skin and I felt the crackle of connection while his hands lingered, the yank of souls as his brilliant green eyes met mine. There was a knowing little smile on his face. "Yeah, it's no problem. I can give you a ride."

My heart was thudding in my chest, but I eased my foot from his hands. "That tickles."

"Oh," he grinned. "Sorry." He reached for the tub and brought it over to the sink to dump the dirty water and used the sprayer next to the faucet to rinse it out a little. "Where do you want this?"

"I'll take it."

I carried the foot spa into the master bedroom and shoved it to the floor in the closet. I hovered in the shadows for a moment, watching as Jack wiped his hands on a dishtowel. He folded it neatly on the counter and headed back to the couch, where he began to rearrange his hand of cards.

I wondered about his poison control excuse, if that was really why he was here, or if he had some ulterior motive. A few moments later, I walked back into the main room and stopped at the edge of the living room carpet. Jack was still mulling over his cards. "Did you want to stay the night?" I asked.

His gaze flicked up to my exposed bra, down to the tee-shirt clutched in my hand, back up to my face. "Jesus," he mumbled and jumped up, dropping his cards down on the couch cushion. He darted straight for his coat on the back of the bar chair and thrust a hand in the pocket for his keys.

Sidestepping, I blocked his way to the door. "Hey, you don't have to go." I shook my head down at my shirt, fumbling with it. Christ, this was so much easier in the cave. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have..."

I saw his coat land on the floor in a heap and I looked up just as he pressed his lips on mine. His hand pressed on the back of my head as he stopped to take a breath, angling his head the other way. I let his tongue into my mouth. His whiskers were severe on my face, nothing at all like Riley's gentle angel kisses, and I loved it, the roughness—the grit—of a man's kiss that I missed. Sliding his hand down to lift my rear end, he tugged me against him and I felt him pushing something into my empty hand. Not keys, but a smooth little packet, a condom.

"Okay?" he breathed between harsh, humid kisses.

"Back here" was my only answer, motioning to the master bedroom.

He pushed me backwards like a bulldozer, slamming open the door, and we shuffled around the bed in the dark. Our faces parted as I got on the bed, lying across it. I could feel his weight sinking the mattress as he kneeled up on top of me. "Cold in here," he whispered.

"Helps me sleep," I managed to say before his warm mouth found mine again. I ran my hands over his shirt, searching for the buttons, undoing them. "Off."

He wrestled with his shirt, but he struggled with the sleeves and drew back. "Dammit. The one time I fasten the cuffs..."

While he worked at his sleeves, I fondled the crotch of his jeans, firmly rubbing my thumb over the stiff knot inside. I heard his breath hitch in the darkness and I paused for a nano-second, wondering how long it had been since he'd been touched there. He tugged at his sleeves with new determination and I heard a muffled snap as a button pelted me and then his shirt was finally off. I felt his hand push mine to his jeans and he moaned.

In a libidinous fog, I rolled over on my hands and knees, nudging backwards, and he grabbed my hips. "Shit," he gasped, grinding his erection against me, but I was anxious for penetration, the comfort of warmth inside me.

"Pants," I husked.

In one swoop, he yanked my sweatpants and underwear down to my bent knees. I felt his trembling hand slip between the back of my thighs. "Jesus, you're soaked."

"Bra," I demanded.

His fingers scrabbled at the hooks on my back and it was that moment I decided the straps of my bondage in the cave were never as uncomfortable as the torture of an underwire. My breasts hung heavy as they were released and while I wrangled with the bra, he rooted for them, kneading as they overflowed in his hands. His scratchy beard was planting kisses along my spine when his body unexpectedly withdrew. I sensed a change in his mood.

"What the—" he said.

"What?" I asked, fog dissipating.

His fingers grazed under my arm, exploring, and I recoiled with an involuntary giggle.

Suddenly he was gone and I flipped over, gaping into the darkness until I was blinded by the lamp as Jack clicked it on. I scowled, throwing my arm over my eyes and I felt Jack's bulk shifting the bed again as he crawled up. Reaching down for the waistband of my sweatpants, I tried to pull them back up, but Jack plopped down on my belly.

"The light," I complained.

"Are you European?" he asked and I perceived some teasing in his voice.

I peeked out from under my arm, but I'd never seen light so bright before. Did my uncle only buy 1000 watt bulbs? "I think my mom's family is Dutch, why?"

"No, I mean," he chuckled. "I mean, it's no big deal, I just wasn't expecting it."

Moving my arm back, I peeked at him. He was grinning, shirtless, crop circles of dark chest hair around his nipples and belly button. His stomach was soft and relatively flat, but I think he was sucking in slightly.

"What are you talking about?"

He indicated to my under arms and I lifted my head off the mattress a little to see. Forty-plus days without a razor made for a rather natural look and the one currently in the tub was dull and rusty.

"That's nothing. You should see my legs," I said insipidly, trying to avoid more blatant scrutiny of my body hair. I was starting to see myself in the third person, like I did my first few days in the cave, when I hadn't quite adapted to being naked for longer than a ten minute shower. "Light, please."

"I think I'll leave it on," he said, pressing his lips on my throat. "My heart can't take more surprises. Keep going."

My arm swung around his neck but my hand cupped over my eyes to obscure the brightness. "Going?"

"Ordering me around. I like you bossy."

First I was hairy. Now I'm bossy.

"Um," I said, thinking. But I was thrown. "Turn the light off?"

He laughed and continued to nurse my neck. His whiskers were rubbing me raw.

And as I tried to sink back into the moment, all I could think of was no matter how dark or how chilly I made the house, it still wasn't the cave. And Jack wasn't Pratt. No razors, no make-up, no perfumes...Pratt liked us natural and I wasn't used to feeling shame over body hair.

"I think you should go," I whispered.

He snapped up, eyes wide, perplexed. "Wha—" He frowned, almost sad. "Why?"

"I just need you to go now."

"Is it the light?" He touched my side gently. "I only want to see you. We can turn it off."

"The moment's passed." I strained for the fabric of my sweats and wrenched them up. Jack had to roll to the side so I could do so, but he was propped up on his elbows, his legs hanging over the edge of the bed, still beside himself.

He scoffed. "Is it because of what I said? I was serious. I don't care about the arm hair."

"I believe you," I said.

But he didn't look convinced.

"I do. It's just not going to happen."

A muscle clenched in his jaw as he nodded shortly. "Okay."

*

Through the gap in the bedroom curtain, I watched Jack clutching his coat on the way out to his truck and throw it in the passenger seat. To avoid an awkward goodbye I didn't walk him out, and while he dressed I averted my eyes from his hands, trembling as they buttoned his shirt.

I took a step back as his headlights flashed over the window. I wasn't sure how I felt about his leaving. Disappointed, yet somehow relieved.

Clicking off all the lights, I undressed. Then I opened the bedroom window another inch, tugged the elastic band from my hair and went to bed.

Lying there, waiting for sleep, I absently rubbed the coarse little hairs under my arm. Two months ago, I would have been disgusted by my lack of hygiene, now I hardly gave them a second thought. I read somewhere arm hair was coming back, though. A woman I went to college with wrote a blog on the Internet and I often tuned in to read. Last year, she grew out her arm hair and dyed it hot pink as some big feminist statement, then chronicled her experiences, mostly the shock and revulsion of other people when they saw it.

But I could hardly blame Jack for his surprise. Sure, he knew the rules. But he didn't make them. Still, I couldn't get over the strange out of body sensation, watching myself in bed with Jack. I realized that's how I always had sex before the cave: in the corner, watching myself and judging what I saw.

I wondered if sex would ever again be like it was in the cave.

An hour passed as I thought on these matters. Restless, I sat up and looked around the darkness. Something was missing and it took a few minutes before I realized what it was.

Throwing back the covers, I headed into the bathroom and felt my way to the sink. I gripped the faucet and turned it a hair, releasing a small amount of water so that it came out in drips. The hollow way they dropped into the drain was just like it was in the cave. I returned to bed and was asleep in moments.

Morning came much too quickly. I lied awake facing the ceiling for a full minute before I realized it was the knocking at the front door that woke me. I was out of bed in a second, running around in my birthday suit to hunt down a robe. If I was going to start sleeping in the nude, I was going to have to buy a decent robe for situations like this. Instead, I opted for the quilt on the bed, draping it tightly around me and scuffling barefoot into the main room. I opened the door a few inches to keep the bright sun at bay. Jack sidestepped into view, wearing reflective aviator sunglasses and looking very Top Gun, holding up a bag of donuts and a fiber carrier with two large coffees.

I swung the door open wider but moved out of the dusty shaft of light pouring in. "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"Ah..." He glanced down at my quilt with a vapor of a smile. "I thought you needed a ride to Virginia to pick up your car."

I shook my head, surly and confused. "After last night, I figured I'd take a cab."

His posture slumped slightly, a humorless half smile evoking apology. "You still need your car, don't you?"

I sighed. "I'll be right out."

When I came out fully dressed, Jack was sitting on top of the picnic table, pitching a tennis-ball across the yard for Bucky. The donuts and coffee were next to him. I used my hand to shade my eyes as I approached him and he smiled at me, the skin around his eyes crinkling. "Ready?" he cheerfully asked.

Once we were on the road, I explained very vaguely my car might be out of gas and he offered to let me use the can he kept in the back of his truck for emergencies. I was thankful he didn't ask any more questions about it.

I couldn't remember the last time I had a donut and I wolfed down three. I decided I could afford the extra calories. My warm layers were looking baggy and sloppy on me.

"I read your book last night," Jack said, glancing out at his side mirror.

"All of it?"

"A lot of it. I haven't finished yet, but I'm enjoying it. I wasn't expecting so many personal stories from the people you interviewed."

I nodded, masking my awkwardness. I didn't like talking about my books. I especially didn't know what to say, knowing it was his wife who had recommended the book to him.

"I like how you capture the sense of community in small towns," he added, and I could tell he was trying to lead me into a meaningful dialogue.

"Personally, I prefer the anonymity of large towns," I snipped.

His sunglasses swung over to regard me for a moment, his expression unreadable, but at least he dropped it. A few minutes later, he pulled into the gas station and turned off the engine. He reached for the door handle. "Stay here, Bucky."

Jack grabbed the gas can from the aluminum saddle box on the back of his truck and while he filled it with unleaded, I went inside to pay. I had to use the cash I had laying around at the cabin since my purse was—hopefully—still under the passenger seat in my car.

"Four-eighty-two," said the cashier who rang me up.

Sliding five bills across the counter, I gave the woman a double look. "Amy?" I blurted.

She met my eye furtively. She was different than I remember. Her hair was much darker, closer to her original color, and it had been cut short, just barely brushing her shoulders. Her face was sun-kissed and her make-up was done very natural, but her expression was still severe. She wore a navy cardigan over her uniform polo and her name-tag read Manager under her name.

"Amy, it's me, Layla," I hissed.

She took my money. "I think you've mistaken me for someone else."

"No, it's me," I said, glancing to the other cashier, busy with another customer. I lowered my voice. "From the cave?"

She shook her head at the cash register and when she spoke, she sounded rehearsed and robotic. "I don't know what you mean. Eighteen cents is your change. Have a nice day."

I could only stare at her and I could tell it made her uncomfortable. There was someone in line behind me so I couldn't press it anymore. "Thanks," I muttered and left.

As I secured my seat belt, Jack asked, "You okay?"

I nodded numbly and kept my gaze on the windshield.

Why wouldn't she acknowledge me? It was possible she was blocking the cave from her mind, but I knew she recognized me. Maybe she simply didn't want to remember the cave. Had it been so traumatic for her? But she didn't want to leave...so maybe it was the banishment she wanted to forget. Surely she could talk about it with me, I had been there. Unless it was me she wanted to disremember. After all, Pratt chose me over her. He'd put her in my chains as punishment, taken away her luxuries and given them to me. Christ, I'd hate me, too.

It took a great amount of politeness and graciousness to get the man at the impound lot to check under the seat of my car for my purse so that I could have my ID and credit card to pay the fee. He also made Jack show his identification before he'd let me have the keys. While Jack transferred gas from the can to my tank, I opened the driver's door to make sure everything was the way I remembered. The grocery bag from Zup's was still in the passenger seat, with a box of bran flakes and a crossword book. The bottle of antacids I had been trying to open when Pratt ran in front of my headlights was half empty and overturned on the floor and pastel colored tablets dotted the floor. I kneeled on the seat to pick them up.

"You'll be able to get to town on the gas in your tank," Jack said. "But I'd fill up somewhere on your way back."

Preferably not at the place Amy works. "Okay. Thanks again."

He set down the gas can and stepped towards me. His khaki coat was open and his sunglasses were dangling from the collar of his undershirt. Jamming his hands in the side pockets, he asked, "Do you want to grab some lunch?"

I paused.

"My treat," he added and moved closer. He smelled good again. Shower clean and soapy.

"You've already done way too much for me," I said.

He narrowed his eyes as he glanced away, looking out at the street beyond the tall chain link fence. "Is it about last night?"

"Jack—"

Shaking his head, he said, "I knew that condom was a bad idea. If you bring one, you're a presumptuous jerk, but if you don't bring one, you're an insensitive jerk. What are the rules now?"

"Oh, the rules haven't changed," I said mordaciously. But I have. I sighed through my nose. "Jack, I just got out of a relationship." It was sort of true.

His eyes hardened on me like emeralds. After a moment, he swallowed. "He hurt you?"

I nodded, forcing down a lump in my throat.

He took his hands out of his pockets and reached one hand up to touch me, but then changed his mind. That muscle in his jaw tensed up again. "He was a fool to let you go."

My belly seared and I felt the rapture all the way in my groin. "Thanks" was all I could think of to say.

"Well," he said and started to take a step back. I felt a goodbye coming. But then I saw his eyes darken. I sipped the air and we fell into a kiss. His fingers curled around the belt loops of my jeans, crushing me against the car door with his hips and my vehicle jostled in protest. His whiskers were like wire digging into my face, his hair wads of dark silk in my fists, and I knew Pratt meant for this to happen. It's why he left me by Jack's mailbox, why he'd been leaving rabbits on Jack's door step. To ease my heartbreak, Pratt had sniffed out a mate for me. Admittedly, the physical biology was heady and irresistible, more potent when we were together, but I could still feel my grief bubbling just below the surface.

Breaking the kiss, Jack dropped his hands and took a large step back. He cleared his throat and fumbled with his sunglasses, slipping them on quickly. "Sorry. That was...uh..." He raked both hands through his hair.

"Unexpected," I finished. I took a deep drag of fresh air to sober myself.

"To say the least." He aimed his sunglasses at me for a moment and then reached into a pocket on the inside of his coat. "I know enough when to leave a woman alone, but—" He handed me a business card. "—call me if you ever want to talk."

"Okay."

I tried to tug the card out of his grasp, but he held onto it and made sure he had my attention before he said, "Don't lose it."

*

The next day, I went back to Amy's gas station. She was behind the counter with a clipboard, counting cigarettes, I think, wearing a brick red sweater today and the sides of her hair were pinned back with small combs. It was a demure look in my opinion, and I knew she was anything but. In my mind, I recalled that tattoo on her lower back, the one that stood for 'big fucking mistake' in her own words.

I approached the counter and grabbed the first candy bar I saw. She approached the register cautiously and set the clipboard down to ring me up.

"This is all?" she asked.

"Yep."

"A dollar seven."

I put down a dollar bill, a nickel, two pennies, and one bird's foot ring. Peeking up through my bangs, I evaluated her reaction. For a long time, she just stared at it. I could see her shoulders rising and falling as she breathed. Finally, she scooped it all up, the money and the ring. Then she pointed to some Formica booths next to the Slushy machine. "Sit. I'll get someone to cover the registers."

A few minutes later, Amy came out of the back room with a young man, who took post behind the counter. Stopping by the coffee station, she glanced over her shoulder at me. "Coffee?"

"Sure."

She poured two small cups of coffee and sat across from me.

"You look great," I said. "Your hair is adorable."