Читать книгу Love in Strange Places - Anonymous - Страница 14

The back of my neck crawled as the silky hairs stood up. My skin prickled electrically. Had there been clouds in the sky, I would’ve been certain that I was about to be struck by lightning. But the stars sparkled clearly in the heavens above, and a warm August breeze caressed my cheek.

I was strolling aimlessly through the traveling carnival that was in town for the week, letting my mind wander just as aimlessly. Then that intense, otherworldly feeling came over me again, and I sensed someone’s eyes on my back. The sensation pulled at me until I turned slowly around and felt my gaze drawn upward to the entry gate of the “Mystifying, Terrifying Death Machine!”

There, leaning back casually against a gatepost, was a slender, well-built man who looked to be in his mid-twenties, his black eyes sparkling as he grinned down at me. It was a smug, knowing grin, like he knew he possessed an uncommon force of will that could actually exert control over others, and I’d just responded exactly as he’d commanded me to.

I felt myself drawn to him in a strange, undeniable way that frightened me more than just a little. But some power outside of myself held sway over me. I walked slowly to him, not even aware of my feet moving. I couldn’t pry my eyes from his hypnotic gaze. As I approached him, he reached out toward me, summoning, and my hand, of its own accord, placed itself in his.

His expression remained unchanged as he ushered me into one of the cars beside him. He lowered the bar and locked me in place without a word.

Suddenly, I felt the car lurch forward. The movement jerked me back to my senses.

I was in the Death Machine—and I hated roller coasters!

My stomach jumped up into my throat as the bottom dropped out from under me and I plummeted downward. All the terror from childhood dreams of falling through space clutched at me.

How in the world had I gotten into this?

Moments later as the train ground to a halt back at the platform, I was too drained to get out of the car by myself. My knees shook when I tried to move. The man, still with his knowing grin, reached for me. He put a hand around each of my shoulders and lifted me effortlessly to my feet. As I stumbled out of the car, I fell helplessly against him. His arms enclosed me—strong, sure arms. The scent of him filled my head—stirring, and yet, indefinable—mysterious and teasing.

It made me think of exotic, unknown places where I might’ve lived had I been born into another existence, far from the boring small town in which I’d spent my entire life—in which four generations of my family had lived their entire lives. My nice, safe, incredibly boring town. Why, in this town, people knew who you’d marry before you’d even figured it out yourself. They knew almost from the day you were born. Life here was laid out before me like a seamless, endless carpet, continuing on smoothly, predictably, until it reached the end of my time on earth.

“Oh, I . . . I’m sorry,” I apologized as I leaned against him, my head still spinning.

“We shut down at one in the morning. Meet me here,” he whispered in my ear, so softly, I wasn’t sure he’d really said it.

I pulled back, startled, and peered into his face. His eyes bored into me as I regained my equilibrium and stood alone.

“One in the morning,” he said again. Then he turned me away from him and propelled me down the exit steps as new riders crowded onto the platform.

I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes before midnight.

Don’t be ridiculous, I thought to myself. You shouldn’t even consider meeting a strange man like that! I’d been daring enough to come wander around the carnival alone when none of my friends were available, but I wasn’t a fool.

Yet, as the night wore on, I found myself unable to leave. The image of his eyes kept forcing itself into my consciousness. And each time it did, I felt that strange, undeniable pull.

Well, I thought, you came looking for something new, an adventure. Now it’s dangling right in front of you. Do you want to spend the rest of your life remembering that when the one opportunity you ever had for an adventure came along, you just passed right on by—too chicken to even check it out?

As the lights on the various rides began to blink out, I was still at the carnival, still wandering indecisively around. And when I finally looked up, I found that I’d wandered right back to the Death Machine. There, on the platform, stood the black-eyed man. As he turned from unloading the last riders, his gaze rested once more on me—that “knowing” gaze.

He motioned me up onto the platform. I found myself climbing the steps almost against my will. He hit a switch and the lights blinked off, leaving me disoriented in the darkness until I felt his hand on my shoulder. It was warm, firm, strong—constraining, somehow. I stood beside him for a while, in silence, until there was no one left that I could see. Then he climbed into the last car on the roller coaster and reached for me. I hesitated, and then followed him into the car. From nowhere, another man appeared on the platform, and as the gate closed on our car, he pressed the start button and then disappeared.

I tensed as the sudden movement of the roller coaster sent a shiver of fear through me. The black-eyed man put his arms around me and pulled me tight against him. Then, with one hand, he tipped my chin up and pressed his lips gently, softly, against mine. I couldn’t stop myself from responding. His lips pulsed against mine. His tongue sought entrance, stirring my passion.

My heart lurched as his hand caressed my bare belly beneath my knit shirt, then cupped my breast. An unbidden hunger began to consume me just as the roller coaster topped the first big climb and plummeted over the edge.

My pulse pounded in my ears as the force of the car rounding a sharp curve flung me harder against him and he lifted me to straddle his lap. All I could do was hang onto him for dear life. I hadn’t bargained on this!

But from somewhere deep inside of me, a wild, heated passion that I’d never before experienced, arose. I was aware of nothing but motion—the motion of the ride as we circled again and again, and the undulating, pulsing rhythm of plain, raw sex.

I don’t know how, but the roller coaster ride finally ended. There was nobody in sight as he lifted me from the car and onto the platform. I was in a daze; I’d never done anything like that before in my life! I just wasn’t that kind of girl; as it was, I’d only had sex with two other men in my life—in serious relationships. The last time had been nearly a year ago.

“Come this afternoon, around two,” he murmured in my ear. “I’ll meet you right here.”

“I . . . I can’t!” I cried involuntarily.

“Why not?”

“I . . . I don’t even know you—”

“My name’s Rebel,” he said. “Now you know me.”

He tilted my head up and looked deep into my eyes. The bit of light from the street lamp, several yards away, was swallowed up by the bottomless blackness of his eyes. I felt pulled into those depths. As he tenderly kissed my lips, I knew I could do nothing but follow his bidding.

Later, I lay in bed in the darkness of my upstairs room, gazing out the curtained window at the full moon shining down on the rooftops and yards, streets and pathways of my little town. I could feel the sameness, the unchangeable stability of the town and its inhabitants—the core of its existence. It felt permanent, right—the very fabric from which came my wonderful family . . . myself.

And yet all that couldn’t calm the stirring I felt inside of me. I shivered, thinking about what I’d just done . . . what I would do again, as surely as I drew breath. Something “outside” had taken hold of me. Something that scared me, thrilled me, and drew me to it nonetheless.

The next day, I lingered just out of sight, around the corner of a building, until two-thirty. My gesture of independence—showing him he couldn’t really control me. However, even from there, he had a magnetic effect on me.

He was something to look at, all right—six feet tall; dark brown hair streaked from the sun that tended to fall in his eyes when he bent his head; a small nose, lush lips, and those midnight-black eyes. He had no shirt on, and his dark, deeply tanned skin shone from sweat and the sun as his muscles rippled.

Even as I peeked around the corner, watching him, a woman waltzed up to him and began what was obviously a flirtation. I didn’t know her; she wasn’t from around here. When he actually stopped his inspection work and began to talk with her, I couldn’t help myself. I popped out and strolled casually up to the Death Machine. His eyes were on me even as he talked to the other woman. She moved her head, trying to catch his gaze, and then, when that failed, she turned and saw me standing about ten feet away. His eyes twinkled and that knowing grin spread over his handsome face. The woman looked flustered, then angry, but she gave up, turned on her heels, and stalked off, leaving me to face my temptation.

“Hi,” he murmured, the grin never leaving his face.

“Hi, yourself,” I answered.

“Didn’t know if you were going to show,” he said.

“I thought about it,” I said.

“And?”

“And . . . well, I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve never done anything like. . . .” I couldn’t quite say “last night,” but I could feel the color creeping up my neck into my face as I thought about it. Rebel laughed, then looked at me for a long moment.

“I didn’t think you had,” he said with a look of satisfaction on his face. “Want a beer?”

“Okay,” I said. “But what about the Death Machine? Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

He pointed to a man climbing along the roller coaster tracks high overhead. “Naw, Earl’s got it. I’ve got some free time, anyway. C’mon.”

I followed him to a long “gooseneck” trailer parked on the back edge of the fairgrounds. He unlocked the door and climbed in. I followed. I was surprised by the roominess of the place. Rebel opened the small refrigerator and fetched two beers, opening them, then passing one to me as I stood, trying not to be too obvious in my curiosity.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Ever seen one of these before?” he asked, motioning around the room.

“Not up close. It’s nice.”

“Makes for decent living quarters on the road,” he said, shrugging. “Anyway, beats a motel room every night.” As he talked, he watched me in a level, appraising way. It made me a bit uncomfortable. Suddenly, it occurred to me that I didn’t know this guy at all. For all practical purposes, he was a complete stranger to me.

Clutching the beer, I edged toward the door. He was leaning against the kitchen sink counter opposite the door, one leg crossed over the other, sipping his beer. As I inched toward the door and reached for the handle, he grinned.

“A little nervous, aren’t you? What do you think I might do? Make love to you again? But, why would you be nervous about that?” He cocked his head sideways and winked at me.

I was dumbfounded. I could feel my face getting redder. In my consternation, I looked at the floor, not knowing what to say or do.

Just then, he leaned forward and his hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. Startled, I tried to jerk away, but his grasp was too strong. He held me motionless, looking deeply into my eyes. I felt weak—too weak to fight. At that moment, he could’ve done anything he wanted to me. But all he did was pull me to him and press his lips tenderly to mine as he released me. The gesture took my breath away.

Then, before I knew what had happened, he was out the door, standing there, holding it open for me to leave. I stepped out, confused. He closed the door behind us and began strolling back toward the midway. As I walked beside him, I could feel the heat building between us. We were almost touching, yet not. I wanted to reach out and wrap my arms around him, but something stopped me. It was as though he’d put up a barrier between us. No matter how much I wanted him, I couldn’t touch him. Only he could break the barrier.

Then we were back at the roller coaster. He waved to Earl and picked up his tools. I stood mute, not knowing what to do or say.

“See you tonight at one,” he said matter-of-factly, then turned and climbed up onto the entry platform.

I felt dismissed. And angry. He surely had his nerve, assuming that I’d be there when he said, at his beck and call.

“You don’t even know my name!” I shouted at his back.

“Yes, I do, Mindy.” He turned his head and smiled wickedly at me.

How did he know?

I hadn’t told him.

At least—I didn’t think that I had.

I whirled around and left. It was all I could do to keep from running out the gate.

As the clock on my nightstand ticked away the hours and minutes, I remained determined that I would not go to the carnival that night. My friends, Kelly and Michelle, had called, wanting me to go with a group of our friends from work. I’d turned them down, pleading a headache, but knowing it was truly because I wanted to eliminate the temptation of seeing Rebel again. I didn’t dare tell anyone about my encounter.

Yet, as I lay on my bed watching television, through my open window, I could hear snatches of carnival music wafting over the summer night breeze. Unbidden, the memory of his body against mine, the pressure of his lips, the sweetness of his kisses—all of it began to creep around the edges of my mind. My breath began to come in ragged gasps as the feelings took over.

Then the memory of walking so close, but not being able to touch him, insinuated itself. He’d awakened something in me that I hadn’t known was there. No one and nothing in this town had ever had that effect on me before—and probably never would. And soon, Rebel would be gone, and all my chances for those feelings would be gone with him. It was more than I could bear. The clock said twelve-twenty-seven.

I could just make it.

Plagued by indecision, I dressed slowly, thinking that if I was late, maybe he’d be gone. Then it would be over. Out of my hands. I knew I needed to be saved from myself. But the clothes I pulled on were a miniskirt and a cropped top—hardly an outfit to discourage a man. My desire was working hard against me.

I glanced at the clock again. Twelve-fifty-five. Suddenly, a shot of adrenaline surged through me. I had to hurry! I raced down the stairs and out the door, not bothering to leave a note for my parents. There was no time.

Breathless, I straightened my hair and walked around the corner of the main fair building toward the Death Machine. The overhead lights and most of the lights on the rides and game booths were out; I saw no one I knew from town.

Good, I thought. That’d only be more of a complication than I could cope with just then.

The roller coaster lights were out and I couldn’t see anyone around. I stood in the dark at the base of the entry ramp, feeling a tremendous letdown.

But how could I be so disappointed over not seeing someone who was nothing but a stranger to me?

Suddenly, there was movement in the shadows. Someone grabbed me, an arm around my waist, and a hand clamped over my mouth as I started to scream. I felt myself pressed tightly, yet gently, against a strong, firm body.

He twirled me around to face him, still pressing me tightly against him. Then a familiar scent reached my nose, just as warm, lush lips covered mine in a passionate kiss. I pulled back slightly and peered through the darkness at the black eyes I yearned for. He kissed me again, then led me to a blanket beneath the scaffolding. I glanced around.

“Rebel, not here,” I protested.

“Why not?”

“Someone might see us!”

“They couldn’t see much, and besides, they wouldn’t know who it was,” he replied, undeterred. “Come on—it excites you, doesn’t it? Knowing what we’re getting away with?”

But I didn’t have time to reply . . . he was slipping my top off over my head even as he lowered me to the blanket.

Perhaps it was the thrill of the forbidden; perhaps it was that I’d found the perfect lover. Whatever it was, I was completely caught up in it. Rebel’s muscles flexed as he lowered himself onto me. I wrapped my legs around his narrow, powerful waist and lost myself to passion. There was no future, there was no past; there was only now—now and Rebel, and this feeling.

Later, as we lay side by side, looking up through the scaffolding at the moon and stars, he said quietly, “Stay with me tonight.”

“What?” I asked.

He turned his face toward me. “Stay with me tonight,” he repeated.

“Oh, but—I can’t! No one knows where I am.” I blurted it out before I thought, then added hastily, “And I have to work tomorrow.”

He lay on his back in silence, looking up at the heavens. Something in his brooding silence tugged at my heartstrings. I raised up on one elbow and caressed his cheek tenderly.

“Rebel, I can’t stay tonight. Really. It’s not that I don’t want to . . . but I have a job I have to be at by eight in the morning. And I couldn’t explain to my parents why I was coming in just to change for work.”

“You couldn’t just tell them that you’d been with me?” he asked, with a sudden edge to his voice.

“Well . . . they’d want to know all about you. And what could I say? What do I even know about you?”

He pushed my arm away and rolled over, reaching for his jeans. He sat up with his back to me, pulling them on. “What do you need to know about me?” He spat it out, like I’d just insulted him horribly. “You wanna know if I’m an ax murderer? You think something like that about me?”

“No!” I cried, confused and upset. “No, I don’t think anything like that! But, Rebel—I don’t even know if . . . well . . . if you’re married!”

At that, he turned and gave me a long, level look. “If that mattered to you, then why are you here?”

My mouth dropped open. I could think of nothing to say. Because he had a point—a very good point: If that mattered to me, why was I here? Questions began to crowd my brain. What on earth was I doing? Sneaking around, having wild sex with a man I didn’t even know—a man who spent his life, for all I knew, roaming the country, seducing women in every town.

We dressed in silence. Rebel jerked the blanket up from the ground, rolling it into a manageable mound, then struck out toward his trailer, leaving me to find my way out on my own.

The next day was Friday. All day at work, one thought kept haunting me: The carnival would be gone on Sunday. Rebel would be gone . . . forever. My life would be back . . . normal. By four-thirty, I knew what I had to do.

When I got home, I told my parents that I was going to the fair with Kelly and Michelle, who shared an apartment, and would spend the night with them at their place. Then I threw a change of clothes into a duffel bag and left.

I left the bag in my car when I reached the fairgrounds, got out, and headed for the Death Machine, my stomach turning flips. The turmoil I felt is indescribable. I was going on blind faith, after all. For all intents and purposes, I was placing my life in the hands of a stranger. But I had to find out—was Rebel someone I couldn’t, shouldn’t, let go? Was he worth the upheaval in my life?

As I approached him, Rebel glanced up at me. Then, wordlessly, he continued with his work, adjusting a bolt on the machine. The invisible barrier was up again—I could feel it. I just stood there, patiently, and eventually, he looked at me again.

“What are you doing here?”

“I had to see you. Does the offer—does it still stand?”

“What offer?”

“The offer to stay the night,” I said softly.

He looked at the ground, then back up at me—a long, assessing look. I began to feel even uneasier as I wondered what was going through his mind.

“You’re not afraid someone will find out?” he asked pointedly, the edge still there.

“No. I want to be with you,” I said, hoping my uncertainty didn’t show. “I—I want to know you better.” It slipped out before I thought.

“Oh. Still not sure about what you’ve gotten yourself into, huh? Well, you don’t need to worry, cuz you’re not in anything. I’ll be out of here in two days, and then you can go back to your regular little existence and forget you ever knew me.”

“I don’t think so,” I said quietly.

“You don’t think what?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forget you,” I said.

He hesitated a moment, then reached a hand out to me. I took it and he pulled me to him. And there, in broad daylight, where anyone in the world could see, he kissed me long and hard, and held me tight.

That night, I wandered around the fair, stopping by the Death Machine every so often, though Rebel was so busy he had little time to talk. Friday night, the fair was jam-packed with people. It seemed like just about everyone I knew was there. I can’t deny it; it made me uncomfortable. There was something furtive about my connection to Rebel, something I couldn’t quite pull out and deal with. At this point, I wasn’t ready for anyone from town to find out about Rebel and me. Mentally, I chided myself. After all, this was exactly what he’d been talking about. But it wasn’t shame I felt, exactly, when I saw someone I knew as I was standing next to Rebel during one of the infrequent lulls at the roller coaster. I didn’t know what it was. I hoped that by tomorrow, though, I’d have it figured out. Tomorrow would be my last chance.

As I wandered through the crowd, that thought kept repeating itself over and over again in my mind . . . tomorrow would be my last chance. But, suppose I did get it all worked out in my head. Then what? Would I talk Rebel into quitting the carnival? Would he consider settling down in our little town and becoming a regular citizen? Would he be the same person I’d fallen for if he made that change?

As the carnival lights blinked out that night, the surge of passion I felt watching Rebel as he shut down the Death Machine pushed all other thoughts from my head. I burned for him, and tonight, I knew I wouldn’t be rushing to get home. Tonight would tell the tale.

I couldn’t wait to have his hands on me. The lights went out then, and as he finished locking up, I pressed myself against his back. I heard him catch his breath. Then his head rolled back, eyes closed, as his hands reached back and found my thighs. I swayed gently against him. His hands slid under my miniskirt. My arms were wrapped around him, my hands caressing his muscular chest. Then my hands moved downward, down to that special place that told me how much he wanted me. Rebel moaned lowly, then turned and clasped me to him. As he bent to kiss me, he slid down onto the roller coaster entry ramp, pulling me astride him. He slid my panties off, and then handed me a condom.

“You do it,” he said huskily.

There we were, where anyone might see, only the darkness to hide us, and I didn’t care. As I rolled the sheath onto him, I could feel my excitement building to an uncontrollable pitch. Our coupling there on the entrance to the Death Machine was even more passionate than before. I hadn’t known these depths were in me. I couldn’t imagine ever giving him up.

When it was over, and we’d caught our breath, Rebel helped me to my feet. He slid his arm possessively around me and led the way to his trailer. He stopped me just outside the door and made me close my eyes and wait while he went inside. I felt light-headed. I’d surrendered myself to whatever the night would bring.

Rebel popped out of the door and came to me, looping an arm around my waist and holding my hand as he ushered me into his place. When I opened my eyes, a warm glow enveloped me. Rebel must’ve placed fifty candles around the small room. The couch was made out into a double bed, on which he’d spread luxurious, black silken sheets. Cool jazz emanated from speakers in all four corners.

As a tenor sax wailed seductively into the night, Rebel lifted me in his arms and placed me gently on the bed. Then, with a mock flourish and a wicked grin, he produced two wineglasses and a bottle of wine. As I lounged on the bed, sipping my wine, he opened the refrigerator and removed a platter containing a wedge of cheese, crackers, smoked oysters, and olives and carefully placed the platter on the bed beside me.

“I’m all sweaty. I’m gonna jump in the shower. Care to join me?” he asked.

I hesitated momentarily, but a duet shower sounded very good. “Sure,” I said.

What came next at first astonished me, then felt wonderfully sexy. Rebel picked up two towels, took me by the hand, and led me outside.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see,” was all he said.

Then he led me around behind the trailer to a wooden platform with a large, circular rod overhead supporting a shower curtain that encompassed it, and a large, plastic container overhead. He shed his clothes, piling them on a nearby yard chair, and reached to slip my top off over my head.

“What’s this?” I asked, a bit unsure about what, exactly, was going on.

“The shower,” he answered, a mischievous grin teasing at the corners of his mouth.

“What?”

“You said you wanted a shower . . . well, get naked, then. This is it. Come on in.”

With that, he parted the shower curtain and entered the platform, pulling me in after him. As I quickly shed my clothes and tossed them onto the chair, he turned some handles, and suddenly, wonderfully hot water cascaded over us.

“How do you get hot water out here?” I asked, laughing in wonderment.

“Solar heat,” he said. “I have a portable panel set up just over there.” He motioned with his head.

It was the most sensuous shower I’ve ever had. We lathered each other’s bodies with our hands, caressing, stroking gently. Then, as the hot water cleansed us, Rebel embraced me tenderly, planting kisses all over my body.

Refreshed and relaxed, we lounged on the bed afterward, wrapped in towels, and dug into the snacks he’d prepared for us. As we worked on the second bottle of wine, he lay on his side, looking at me silently. A wistful, almost sad look came into his dark eyes. As I reached out to him, he took me into his arms. Every nerve ending in my body seemed more alive than ever before. He caressed me, held me tight, and made soft, tender love to me. I slept a deep, peaceful sleep in his arms that night.

Hours later, I woke to find him propped on his side, facing me, those black pools of his eyes reflecting the warmth of the morning sun, a sweet smile on his lips. The chirp of grasshoppers in their summer assault on the nearby fields accented the laziness I felt as I stretched out on the silken sheets. Just then, at that moment, my world was perfect. I wanted nothing more than to lie there in the summer morning and not have to move even a toe. I smiled at Rebel, then lazily closed my eyes again. His fingers traced paths up and down my body like feathers on the wind. I felt the passion begin to build inside me. Then, once again, we made love tenderly, lovingly, completely.

“I’m not married,” he said, out of the blue, as we lay in each other’s arms afterward. There was a palpable silence. Then, very lowly, he said, “But the truth is, I almost was… once.”

“What happened?” I asked.

There followed a long pause, and then he said, “She left me,” and offered nothing more. His life was still a complete mystery to me, but the things I felt in his arms couldn’t, wouldn’t, be denied.

Finally, hunger pangs reminded me that we had other human needs to tend. “If you’ll go get my bag out of my car, I’ll see what I can put together for breakfast,” I said, though I would have preferred to lie there naked with Rebel all day long.

I pulled on one of his T-shirts and began to rummage through the small refrigerator and the cabinets in search of breakfast fixings. To my surprise, he had eggs and sausage, biscuits, coffee, and jam—even some scallions to chop into the eggs as I scrambled them. We ate, and I set about cleaning up afterward.

Rebel sat in his chair and watched me, a strange, unreadable look on his face. Then he got up and left—without a word, without a kiss, without a gesture of any kind. He just left. The invisible barrier had slammed back into place. I had no idea why. I killed as much time as I could in the trailer, but as a couple of hours passed with nothing from Rebel, an uncomfortable, restless feeling overcame me.

Had I been dismissed?

Was our time together already over?

Something clutched at my heart. Not knowing what else to do, I took my bag and headed for my car.

But my path took me to the roller coaster, instead. As I shielded my eyes from the sun and peered skyward, I spotted Rebel up high on the scaffolding, intent on his work.

“Rebel, I’ll be back tonight,” I called out to him.

But he didn’t respond, simply kept on working.

Had he heard me? I couldn’t tell. Did he want me to come back? I couldn’t tell that, either, but I did know I felt like a fool just hanging around there like a stray dog hoping for a handout. I could feel the eyes of the other carnival workers on me. What did they know? Did Rebel do this in every town they worked?