It was just after seven in the evening when I got the phone call from Autumn. My father had been showing off his latest piece of craftsmanship, a two-man canoe that he'd cobbled together with the help of an instructional Youtube video.
“Sorry, Dad, I have to take this,” I said with a groan, watching Autumn's name lighting up the screen. “It's my boss.”
“I thought you had the weekend off.”
“So did I.”
I went into the garden. “What is it, Autumn?” The sigh I let out when I spoke was loud enough that she couldn't ignore it. But knowing her it would only please her to learn that she'd disturbed me.
“Where are you?”
“With my parents. You know this.”
“Well I need you to come and get me.”
“What? From where?”
“I'm at the hotel. I've been thrown out.”
I put a hand to my forehead. Was she for real? “What did you do?” What the hell did it matter? She'd broken a rule, and now it was Elle to the rescue, as usual.
She hesitated before saying, “I got caught smoking pot in my suite. How long will it take you to get back here?”
“It's a forty-five minute drive!” I protested. “And it's my day off.”
“I'm failing to see how any of this matters. So, I expect you here in forty-five minutes.” She rang off.
My fingers itched to hit the redial button, wait for her to answer, then scream down the line that I quit, and she could stuff her stupid job. But like the dutiful slave I was, I hopped into the hired car and set off towards Helena, cursing her all the way.
She was waiting in the hotel lobby with her panoply of luggage, looking pissed off, but surprisingly sober. She didn't say anything snarky when she saw me. The porter even helped load her bags into the trunk, which I found surprising, considering she'd just been thrown out.
“You've stayed in hundreds of hotels over the years. How did you think you would get away with something like this?” I started as we set off.
She eased into her seat, putting her feet on the dashboard. “I don't need a lecture.”
“I'm not giving you one, I just don't understand how this could have happened.”
“I got high smoking something illegal somewhere I shouldn't have. That's how.”
I glanced at her. “You don't look very high, or sound it for that matter.” Not that I'd had a lot to act as reference. She was her usual, rude, bad-tempered self.
“I guess I sobered up quite a bit waiting for you to get there. You said forty-five minutes.”
“There was traffic.” Lie. I'd purposefully taken the longer route to the hotel in order to be late. My victories didn't come often, so when they did I clutched them with both hands. “Where am I taking you?”
“I can't be bothered to go to another hotel. Checking in, all that jazz, don't have the patience for it.”
“So where do you want to go?”
“How about you take me back to your parents' place?”
I almost crashed the car!
“What? Why would you want to go there?” She would give them both heart attacks! I couldn't subject my innocent, God-fearing parents to her.
“To see where it all began, how you turned out the way you did.”
“That's not a good enough reason.”
“Are you ashamed of me?” She laughed. “Do you think I'll embarrass you in front of your folks?”
“Actually, yes.”
“Parents love me. I'll be on my best behavior. I promise.” She laughed again, extinguishing any faith I had in her words. “Or would you rather see me out on the street?”
Actually, yes, I wanted to repeat, but didn't. She would never end up on the street; not with her cash and looks. Some attractive woman would take her in long before the night was over. But I decided it was best not to leave my boss out on the street, fending for herself. There was a spare room; I was sure my parents wouldn't mind her staying the night, however unorthodox it was.
“Fine. But you ought to know that they're a little behind the times. All right? They're simple people who see the world through a very narrow lens.”
“In other words, they're like you? Got it.”
I glared at her, and braced myself for what I thought would be the longest, most harrowing twenty-four hours of my life.
“It's so nice to meet you. I've heard so many wonderful things about you,” were the first words Autumn exchanged when we stepped into the house. This was shortly followed by a huge hug, starting with my mother, then moving on to my father. Both of my parents wore the same astonished looks as me. They'd had less than pleasant things to say about her once I'd informed them that I had to collect her from her hotel, not telling them what her offense was, of course.
“Thank you so much for letting me stay here tonight. I know it was short notice. I am truly grateful.”
Who was this new, polite stranger, and what had she done with the old, mean Autumn Anders? Gratitude wasn't something she'd ever expressed, at least not with me. I kept waiting for her to burst out laughing, to drop the act, wondering how long she could keep this game up. But not only didn't the facade fade, she upped the ante. Within half an hour she was sitting in the living room with my parents, drinking some of my father's best cognac, and amusing and shocking them with stories of her wacky years in showbiz.
“You must have been all over. What were your favorite and least favorite places?” my father asked with rabid fascination, leaning forward eagerly, waiting on her every word. I was sitting beside Autumn, just watching on dubiously, trying to work out what was happening. She was making a liar out of me. I'd told my parents that she was Medusa, the cruelest woman on the planet, who didn't get along with anyone. This person before them was none of those things.
“Brazil, I felt like I was home when I got there. Welcomed with open arms. The people are lovely. And, surprisingly, my least favorite place was Norway. Beautiful scenery, but the people are as cold as the weather. My father's family still live there.”
“Will you be doing a worldwide tour again soon?” This came from my mother.
“Possibly. Management handles all of that. We just turn up.”
“Did you hear that, Elle? If you're on your best behavior you might get to travel the world.”
I cringed hard. What was I, five years old?
I felt Autumn's hand on my thigh as she squeezed it, smiling at me. “Oh, you don't have to worry about that. She's always on her best behavior. I wouldn't go anywhere without her. I wouldn't even know what to do without her.”
For the second time that night, my mother and father and I all wore the same astonished stares.
“That has to be the strangest thing you've told us all evening,” my mother said with a little chuckle. Gee, thanks, Mom!
Her hand lingered a little while longer, and neither of my parents seemed to think anything of it, or even notice it for that matter. If they'd known what she'd done and said to me in the garage, they wouldn't have seen it as innocent.
“Elle's a wonderful assistant. Best I've ever had. Devoted, diligent, efficient, not afraid to get her hands dirty. You should both be very proud of her.”
A couple of minutes later, after she'd officially won my parents over by singing my praises, making me sound like the best thing since sliced bread, and prompting me to side-eye her until my eyes hurt, we had a little while alone while my parents disappeared to the kitchen.
“You shouldn't toy with them like that,” I said, feeling slightly ridiculed knowing that she couldn't have meant any of the bull-crap she was spewing.
She grinned. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You're lying to them, and it's not fair.”
“I'm not lying. Everything I said was the truth.”
“But you always call me a lousy assistant, and that you'd replace me in a flash if you could find someone stupid enough to take such low pay for such an awful job. Your exact words.”
I knew that would humor her. “I say a lot of things. You should know that by now.”
“Well it's not fair,” I said again, in a sulky manner.
I felt her hand on my thigh again, this time further up. The touch was different somehow, more scandalous. Her words were hushed when she spoke again. “What sort of truth would you have me tell them? That I left their virgin daughter's panties drenched just by talking to her? And would you also like me to tell them how I know that?”
She'd already removed her hand by the time my parents returned to the room, so they missed her display, the real Autumn Anders, leaving their daughter soaking wet for the millionth time.
“I know it's not up to the standards to which you're accustomed,” my mother said as she showed Autumn around the spare room. I'd followed along in order to make sure she settled in all right, or to at least pretend that I gave a crap that she did.
“It's perfect. And you have a lovely home. It reminds me of my parents' house. I feel warm and welcome.” She actually sounded as though she meant it, and that astounded me. Up until Greta's revelation about how laid back her parents were, and how decent her upbringing was, I'd imagined that Autumn's life prior to fame had been hellish, of a kind that had forced her into making rock music in order to escape her tragic past. It had never occurred to me that she'd come from a loving home that she missed. This made her seem human, where before she had not. I had been worried about bringing her here, to a small town no one had ever heard of, to a small home belonging to people with small minds. But I guess even she couldn't be ungrateful about this. My parents had let her stay on such short notice, forewarned by a very brief phone call half an hour before we arrived. If she'd complained about her room I reckon I would have pushed her from the second story window!
“There are some spare blankets and pillows in the closet, in case you need them. I hope you sleep well, Miss Anders.” My mother and Autumn said their goodbyes, and my mother left us.
“Your parents are great.”
I gave her a skeptical look. “Great how?”
She laughed. “How many ways are there to be great?”
“You don't think anyone is great.”
“That's not true. It's just rare that I meet people I like... who I'm not trying to sleep with, that is.” She lowered her voice on the latter half of the sentence.
“They seem to really like you, for some reason.” I didn't mean it to come out as disparaging as that, but there wasn't exactly a nice way of conveying it.
“I see someone's really letting their tongue loose now that they're in their own habitat. What happened to biting it, young lady?” Although I knew she was speaking metaphorically, her use of the word tongue, and calling me young lady in that deep, sexy voice suggested something a little more lewd. It made the hairs on the back of my neck spark up.
“I've never been good at it.”
“That's true. Still, I'm finding this new, bitchy you extremely hot.”
Teasing me again. I ignored it.
“Will you be all right in here?”
“How much trouble can I get into?”
“Okay, well I'm just across the hall if you need anything. Goodnight.”
“You mean you're not going to stay and tuck me in like a good babysitter should?”
I ignored that too and retired to my own room. It was a room that I'd started to find depressing from about age sixteen, but had done nothing to rectify. It was still very much a teenage girl's space, with the light pink decor, and the single bed with covers to match the walls and drapes. I'd specifically held off redecorating, because to do so would have meant that I'd planned on staying there forever.
I'd already changed into my nightwear, brushed my teeth, climbed into bed and switched off the lamp when my door creaked open. I reached for my glasses in the dark, then switched on the lamp again just in time to see Autumn closing the door behind her.
“Is everything all right?” I asked, perplexed by her appearance, and also by the look in her eyes. It was one I'd never seen before and thus couldn't make out.
“No, it's not.” Her journey across the room to me was slow and measured. “And I know I shouldn't be in here, but God help me, I felt compelled to come. Like I didn't have a choice.”
I sat up, slightly concerned now. What could possibly have compelled her to sneak into my bedroom at this hour? “What is it?”
“I tried to get to sleep, I really did, but I couldn't. Not when I knew that you were lying in here, the untouched flower. I would be lying if I said I haven't thought about you and that little piece of heaven you have between your legs. In fact, I've thought about it a lot.”
As shocking as her words were, it wasn't them that made my breath catch in my throat, but the slow way she removed her clothes and dropped them to the floor. No words escaped my lips as I watched her, staring open-mouthed.
“I have a little confession to make. I didn't get thrown out of my hotel room. That was a lie.” Now down to just her underwear.
“Why would you lie about that?”
“Because if I told you the real reason why I wanted to be here tonight, with you, I don't think you would have come to get me.” Next went her bra, discarded lazily behind her. Then she threw back the duvet and crawled onto the bed, in such a predatory fashion I thought she would eat me alive.
“W–what r–reason?” Not only my voice, but my whole body trembled, so certain of where this was going, and thus terrified because of it.
She spread my legs with fierce determination, and slotted herself between them. “I want to feel how tight you are before another person has been inside you,” she breathed against my lips, before tugging my nightdress off over my head. “I want to fuck you in the bedroom you grew up in, with your parents down the hall. I want to cause and hear your first moan when you're penetrated for the first time.”
She pressed her lips to mine with the lightest touch, as she had done before; only this time I knew she wouldn't pull away, leaving me with nothing. She'd come here for her prize, and as I stared into her eyes, those expressive blue marbles that sparkled like diamonds, I knew she wouldn't leave without obtaining it. I could have caused a flood with how wet I was for her at that moment!
The first body to body contact came with the graze of her nipples against mine; the connection light and soft and incidental as she kissed me. But that didn't matter to my innocent breasts – any contact like this was new to me, and delicious whether purposeful or not. My nipples stiffened within seconds.
Everything she did was slow, calculated, so unlike the way I'd imagined it with her; from the way she let her tongue roam around in my mouth, in a moist, breathless encounter, to the way she lay me down. Building the suspense, adding to my anxiety. Even as she removed the final item of clothing from my shivering body, she did so in no hurry, sliding my panties down with ease, holding my gaze the whole way, as if dragging out every agonizing second to frighten me.
“Is this about winning?” I asked when she'd released my lips from hers.
She planted kisses on my neck and jaw, more forceful than before.
“Partly,” she answered simply. “But mostly it's about how wet I am, how wet you've made me, and how tasty this beautiful little slice of paradise is.” She lightly patted my crotch, her smile wide and white. “And don't you think I've waited long enough?”
Was that her way of saying that she had always wanted me? That my “little slice of paradise” had been on her mind a lot longer than she'd ever let on? This thought both terrified and exhilarated me. But how could I ever hope to be good enough for someone like her who'd seen and done everything? What did a virgin like me have to offer?
She kissed me again, her hand still cupping my vagina as though she'd stated her claim to it. “Breaking you in is going to be so much fun.”
“Will it hurt?”
“At first, a little. But after a while you'll be fine.”
“Be gentle,” I said, letting out a rattly breath.
“Always.” There was something sincere in her eyes as she removed my glasses, that made me trust her when I never had before. I was trusting Autumn Anders with my most prized possession, something I would have considered insane a couple of months prior. How things had changed.
The relish in her eyes as she bore down on my breasts, taking each one between her lips in turn, should have filled me with fright. Such raw passion, hunger, I'd never thought anyone was capable of showing toward me. She took one hardened nipple between two fingers, and pricked it with her tongue, the touches ever so slight, but glorious all the same. I thought I would faint from the feeling. She drove her fingers between my legs, glided through the ocean of excitement that dwelt there, then brought it back out, newly moistened, using it to wet the other teat. My body trembled beneath her, almost too sensitive to touch, and we'd only just gotten started. As I'd anticipated, she moved onto the juice-stained teat and let her tongue go wild on it, sucking off all traces of my wetness.
“Oh God...” I moaned, trying to stifle it by biting down on my lower lip. But that feeling, it was out of this world – I felt it through my whole body, not just the area she was violating. Nibbling, sucking, licking, it was too much for my now bruised nipples.
She didn't release them until she'd completely decimated them, until they were truly wrecked. Then she smiled down at them with pride for what she'd put them, and me, through. And when she peered into my eyes again, that tiny smile told me that this was just the beginning – that she had worse planned for me. Worse, yet so much better.
Her eyes gleamed as she spread me wide, exposed me, made me vulnerable. My shaky breaths must have only added to her feeling of being in control. Her hand drifted between the folds of my vagina for a second time, but remained there a little longer than before, gliding up and through, hitting my hole and my bean several times.
“Oh...” I murmured, being sent to heaven and back, over and over by her brief, gentle, teasing touches.
“Mmm, that feels nice, doesn't it?” she cooed, her voice a whisper that only I would hear.
“Yes!” I almost cried my response, my vagina throbbing aggressively as I bucked and writhed, thrusting my pelvis up and trying to force more contact.
I was so lost in my delirium, my body aching with need, my cavern throbbing for more of her touch, that I barely noticed when she removed her fingers and replaced them with her mouth. And that was the point at which the whole room began to spin, and I felt as though I was having an out of body experience.
There was nothing gradual or measured about her tongue meeting my bean. Her suction on it sent spasms running through my body. I thought I would expire instantly. I probably would have had she not kept stopping and starting, giving and taking away when she sensed that I was teetering on the edge of an orgasm. She switched gears, turned up the pressure at will, eliciting all types of moans and groans from me.
“Shh,” she whispered against my sex. But she had to know this would only make matters worse, as the vibration trebled the sensation.
She brought herself back up, pushed my legs up around her waist and we kissed. For the second time I tasted myself on her. And as her lips were on mine, the softest lips I'd ever felt, her fingers battled their way inside me.
I cried out and bucked against her, the pain striking me like lightning. The first ever entrance beyond the kingdom wall. I felt like a conquered country, penetrated and broken for the first time, having once assumed that it was impenetrable. The pain came as much from shock of the unknown as it did from the actual contact. And when she dove steadily deeper, I let out another cry, which she caught in a kiss. This cry, I noticed, and probably so too did she, was equal parts moan, and not the bad sort. The truth was, as uncomfortable as it felt to be probed, it also felt wonderful. How could pain feel this good?
“I love that you're brand new,” she whispered against my lips, gliding out again.
For the brief second that she wasn't inside me, I should have been relieved that some of the agony had ceased; but I only wanted more. I didn't need to ask, though. The second time she entered me, even though I was eagerly anticipating her, forced another whine from my mouth, another half moan.
She laughed quietly as she kissed my face, my jaw, my cheek, each kiss to accompany each entrance and exit, and each new moan-cry. “Shh, honey. Do you want your parents to hear me fucking their little girl?”
“I'm not a little girl,” I breathed.
“No.” She found my lips again. “I'm making you a woman.” She pounded a little harder, and I moaned a little louder, the pain now all but forgotten, or at least ignored.
Her being inside me made me sensitive to all feeling; the touches of her upper chest and breasts against mine, the outside of her thigh against the inside of mine, her hot, minty breath on my face as she whispered sweet little nothings to me, only making me more wet.
“I could stay inside you forever. Would you like that?”
“Mmhmm,” I whimpered, nodding and holding her gaze.
“I can't think of a better place to be but here.”
“I don't want you to be anywhere else but here,” I said. There was an intensity to the way she looked at me, the way she drove her fingers into me over and over, but I never felt the need to look away. I just wanted us to be one, for our bodies to merge into one.
“How do you feel?” she asked, slowing down her movements, her lips grazing mine.
“Terrific.”
“Not sore?”
“A little.” More than just a little, but I wasn't about to tell her that, for fear she would stop.
She eventually did, without warning, carefully and painstakingly removing her fingers while we stared into each other's eyes. She watched me as I caught my breath, as my body tried to recover; it was as if she was contemplating something, though I couldn't tell what.
Then she climbed out of her panties. My panic had deserted me long ago, and all that remained was curiosity and lots of aching and yearning for more of her. With the removal of her final item of clothing came the assurance that this wasn't over.
She slotted herself between my legs again, pushing her tongue into my willing mouth, and we kissed hungrily and thirstily, her need to devour me seemingly stronger than mine. And when she pulled her lips away, she looked down at me, took me in for a moment without saying a word. As soon as she pushed my thighs up onto my stomach and went to slot herself between them again, I knew what was coming.
Panic.
“Wait. Is this safe?” As much as I wanted her, as much as my body ached for her, I knew that she'd been with a lot of women, and I didn't want to catch anything my first time at the rodeo. It wasn't the politest thing to inquire about, and maybe it would put a dampener on the proceedings, but I didn't regret asking.
She didn't seem offended. “I haven't done this with a woman in a long time. Years. It's not something I ever do with them.”
If that was true, why was she willing to do it with me?
Maybe I shouldn't have been so trusting, but something about the way she looked at me told me that her words were truthful.
“We don't have to–”
“No,” I jumped in quickly, “I want to. More than anything.”
That was her cue, and she took it.
All of the things I felt then were new and alien to me, and although everything she possessed between her legs was the same as mine, I couldn't make out what everything was. All I knew was how amazing it felt. At first her moistness was cold and strange as it combined with mine, her folds joining with mine in a moist assembly. Knowing that I had caused that stream between her thighs, that my inexperienced body had brought her to that point, filled me with joy.
As she pressed down a little, that was when the real fun began. I hadn't realized how swollen my nub had become until it collided with hers, equally as swollen. She teased me with tiny bursts of contact, as my body trembled against hers, her palms pressed to the bed, on either side of my head. Her nipples scraped against mine several times as she gently glided up and down. Then she rested on her elbows, bringing her face to mine, letting her lips linger on mine without kissing me.
Now our stiff nubs couldn't bare to be apart. The eating and the fingering that had come before this were great, but this...this was amazing. The best feeling in the world. I knew then that this act, whatever it was, would forever be my favorite thing to do in the sack. And that she, despite what the future held, would forever be my preferred partner with whom to do it.
She caught my moans in her mouth, and let out quiet ones of her own. She didn't hold back either, grinding her sex hard into mine, riding and rolling like she was playing a sport. I could even hear the faint sounds of our sexes colliding, which only made me moan louder.
“You feel perfect,” she whispered, again and again, kissing me and stroking my face with her thumb, her breasts pressed onto mine. “I knew you would.”
It was only then, staring into her eyes, seeing the intensity with which she rode me, the passion and tenacity as we became one, that a realization hit me. The last woman she'd done this with must have been Nancy, the love of her life. The woman who had made her forever emotionally unavailable to all other women. Eight years ago. She'd waited eight years to do this again, and it was with an inexperienced woman she could barely stand. I knew it had to mean something, but couldn't think what. Besides, trying to decipher it only stole my attention away from this glorious thing we were doing. That would be a concern for another day, when she wasn't grinding her moist sex against me, when she wasn't telling me how perfect I felt.
We had the same penetrative stare fixed on each other when my bedroom door burst open.
“Mom, Dad, what the hell are you doing in here?” I screamed, horrified, feeling my face burning up. My parents stood in the room, thunderstruck, gazes averted to another part of the room, where their daughter didn't have a naked woman pressed against her.
“Miss Anders, please get your things and leave,” my mother said in a stern, schoolteacher voice, without looking at Autumn. “We allowed you to stay under our roof, and as thanks you disrespect us in this manner.”
“Get the hell out of my room! I'm a grown woman. I can do whatever I like.” Saying those words set my age back about ten years; I sounded like a stubborn teenager who wasn't getting her own way.
“I can assure you I didn't mean to disrespect you both. I'm sorry that I did.” I could still feel her bean, her wetness, and wanted to hold on to that feeling forever. But she broke away, separated her beautiful body from mine – a body I had seen dozens of times but had only now truly appreciated it for what it was. Now, when she was being thrown out.
“You can't throw her out. It's late,” I protested.
“Elle, it's fine,” Autumn said soothingly, collecting her clothes off the floor and climbing into them. “We passed a motel about half an hour away. I'll take the car and stay there.”
“Then I'm coming with you.”
“No, stay with your family. I think you all need to have a talk. I'll see you back in San Francisco.” She pecked me on the cheek, so softly her kiss seemed ghostly. She smelled of mint, and me, and sex.
Five minutes later, from my bedroom window, I watched her drive away, my heart and body aching for her.
My parents came back to my room, distinct looks of disappointment penetrating their features. Disappointment and bewilderment.
I stood before them, arms folded across my chest, more furious than I'd ever been. I'd been robbed of my orgasm, and the woman I longed for had just driven away to God only knew where. It felt as though I would never see her again.
“Where do you get off?” I started, feeling more like the parent than the child.
But my mother was quick to reverse those roles. “How dare you bring that woman into our house and...do that stuff under our roof!”
“We were having sex. Jesus!” I threw up my arms. “It's not like we were burning people alive.”
“This house is not a brothel!” My mother screeched.
“Maybe if it was I never would have been bored out of my mind and fled the state to escape it.”
“Just listen to yourself. Who are you?” This was from my father. “You swan off to that sinful city, and you lose your morals, start doing ungodly things with that woman. Did you ever think about all the other women she's done that with? Huh? Were you thinking about that?”
“This isn't about me being safe, we all know that. The odds of me catching something from another woman are much lower than if I were sleeping with a man. Just say it, you're disgusted that your daughter likes women.”
My mother tutted. “Don't you dare make this about sexual orientation. We've always been tolerant of that sort of thing.”
I laughed humorlessly. “That sort of thing. Sure.” Despite my reaction, I had to admit that she'd spoken truthfully. As far as Catholics and bible bashers went, my parents were the most tolerant. They had their opinions, their beliefs, and they had said things that many ignorant people had about LGBT people, people of color, people of different religions, people from different states. But they'd always taken a live and let live approach to life.
“We've known about you for some time,” my father said.
I'd assumed as much. Although I'd never spoken about my inclinations toward women, my lack of boyfriends growing up, my complete lack of interest in boys period, and my increased interest in gay culture over the years was pretty telling. An open secret; a glass closet case.
“We just want you to be safe, love,” my mother said, her voice back to its usual, even tone. “And we don't want you getting your heart broken.”
“Just please go.” I turned away from them and waited until I'd heard the door click shut before I let out a depressed sigh. The best night of my life had morphed into the most cringeworthy night of my life in the blink of an eye.
I felt the memory of Autumn deep inside me, could still feel her hard nub against mine as I settled down to bed. I smelled her on my sheets, tasted her on my tongue and lips. Her essence was everywhere, but she wasn't.
I longed to see her again.