All That She Desires: The Stranger (4 page)

They broke off for breath and looked at each other.
Fiona's lipstick was smudged, but she smiled up at him like she'd just had a
taste of something she liked, and she wanted much, much more.

Mike smiled at her. He didn't know what was going
on, and he didn't know what this girl was up to, but he felt that whatever she
was feeling at that moment was genuine. Maybe she'd just had too much to smoke
and drink, but he knew they had come to this together, and there was no reason
to go back. He wanted her now, and from her hands on his skin and the look in
her eyes, he knew she wanted him too.

He leaned forward and kissed her on the side of her
neck, just below the ear, and began kissing and nibbling his way down.

"Wait," she said. "Is there somewhere
we can go? Does this place have a bedroom?"

He smiled and kissed her. "Of course it has a
bedroom. Come on."

He led her to one of the doors. Inside there was a
small room, dominated by the bed. He didn't turn on the light switch, but just
let the light from the kitchen shine in.

As soon as Fiona saw the bed, she crawled on. It was
an old bed, and its metal springs squeaked, but it was very soft. She struck a
pose for him, looking over her shoulder and smiling, enjoining him to climb
aboard with her.

"I feel weird mentioning it," he said.
"I don't have anything with me, like, I don't have any--"

"Protection?" she said. "I'm on the
pill, so we don't have to worry about that. And I got tested after I found out
Gozzy cheated on me, and I'm good. When was the last time you were
tested?"

"Oh, long ago," he said. "But I've
only had sex with one partner for the last five years."

"Right," she said, rolling onto her back
and stretching. The smooth, graceful lines of her body were an artist's dream.
"Your wife," she said. "Right?"

"Right," he said. "My ex-wife."

"Come here," she said. "I want to
help you get laid after your divorce."

Mike took a deep breath and exhaled. "Wow.
Weird night." He pulled his t-shirt off and slipped out of his pants and
boxers, crawling onto the bed to join Fiona. He lay down next to her, putting
his hand on her flat stomach and leaning in to kiss her. Their mouths met, and
she let his hand explore her firm body. Despite the ridiculously unhealthy
lifestyle she'd shown him that day, she was clearly a person who usually took
care of herself. She was toned and fit, slender, but healthy and robust at the
same time. She was in the perfect bloom of youthful good health. If would be
such an awful waste, he thought as he moved his hand from her hip up to her
breast, if she were to let herself slip into the nihilism and self-destruction
that was threatening her.

And he felt a longing, equal to his desire to make
love to her: he wanted to somehow save her without possessing her. He wanted to
inspire her to save herself.

At the same time he was thinking this, she was
moving her hands on his body as well, touching his arms, his chest and down his
stomach. Her hand reached down to find his hard-on, and she took in its shape
and size, caressing it, handling it for her own pleasure as well as his. It was
a nice size, a proper, regular guy cock that she could enjoy. Gozzy had been too
large, and he had no sense of subtlety or tact. Fucking with him had been a
matter of harder and faster, bigger, more. Mike didn't seem like that at all.
She sighed with pleasure under the soft attention of his lips and hands, and
let herself get carried away by the sensation of his hands on her body.

Mike worked his was down from her neck to her chest.
Her nipples stood out, stiff and tight. He touched his face to her breast,
caressing her soft, smooth skin with his cheek. She squealed in response and
grabbed his shoulders. "So ticklish!" she said. "Your
beard!" Mike smiled and touched his cheek. He'd shaved that morning, but
even so he could feel the stubble.

"Sorry," he said, and placed a soft kiss
on the underside of her breast.

"It's okay," she said. "I'm just
really sensitive."

"I'll be gentle." He took her breasts in
both hands and massaged them as he slid down, placing kisses along her belly.
Fiona sighed luxuriously and rolled on her back. Mike moved on top of her and
kissed across her stomach down to the waistband of the navy blue thong. He
sighed with pleasure as he touched his forehead to her lower belly. It had been
a long time for him, and even longer since he had the thrill of new contact,
the excitement of erotic exploration.

He ran his hands down her sides to the waistband of
her thong. "May I?"

"Why?" she teased. "What are you
going to do?"

Mike moved his head to the side and placed a kiss on
her upper thigh, just by the edge of her satiny little panties. He traced his
lips up and down, nibbling and licking along the tender skin, making her squirm
with delight and desire until she finally pushed him back so she could spread
her legs wide, allowing him access to her private areas. But still the thong
remained in place, a final teasing barrier between him and her naked, open
sexuality.

He ran his cheeks along the sensitive skin of her
inner thigh, and she giggled in response. The triangle of dark fabric lay right
in front of his face, and he leaned forward against it, touching his face to
her, feeling the contours of her body, moving gently around, stimulating her.
He could feel her heat.

Fiona's fingers slid in to pull the panties aside,
exposing her sex to him at last. Her lips were puffy and downed with soft brown
hair. The inner folds of her vagina were open, and her wetness was apparent.
Mike placed a kiss at the top of her vagina and then slowly moved his mouth
down, kissing and licking until he found her clitoris, barely protruding from
her folds, ready for him.

Mike reached under her thigh and around to the top
of her pubic area, and with two fingertips he softly pulled the hood of her
clitoris back, revealing the swollen bud. He licked it with the flat of his
tongue, slowly sliding it along and she gasped, arching her back and grasping
at the back of his head, holding him there.

He continued, licking and licking, pleasing her
clitoris. "Suck it," she said with hard breath, and he took the
clitoris and its folds between his lips and sucked them, pulling them into his
mouth, cradling her clit with his tongue and drawing her sex in. It was
something he'd never done before, but her reaction, her arching, gasping,
crying-out reaction told him that he was doing it right. He kept at it, licking
and sucking, moving a finger to massage her opening until he felt her grip a
handful of hair at the back of his head. Her body locked up and her hard breath
came in sharp, staccato gasps as she came.

At last she fell back, totally relaxed, her body
twitching, like electric currents were running through her.

"Oh," she moaned. "Oh, you got
it."

Mike smiled. He got up onto his knees and lifted her
legs to slide them together, then began to work at sliding the thong around her
hips and down her legs. He tossed it onto the bed beside them before moving
back up to lie next to her.

Fiona turned her head to face him, smiling and
caressing his cheek. "I needed that," she said. He was on her right
side, and she lifted her right leg, bringing her knee up toward her chest. Mike
knew what she meant by it and moved in close to her, guiding his hard cock up
into her wetness, pausing to rub the head of his penis back and forth along the
slippery folds of her vagina before entering her. She cooed as he slid in and
out, lubricating his length as he worked his way in, and then they were making
love as he took her from the side.

He rolled his hips back and forth, sliding in and
out, and they gripped one another. They were face to face, cheeks touching,
heads turning to kiss on the mouth. His hands moved, and one arm was wrapped
tightly around her, his other hand ranging to massage her breast or caress her
side. When he held her tightly, squeezing her left breast and kissing her neck
she cried out, her eyes closed tightly, mouth open.

She came, and Mike looked at her face and he
couldn't hold back. His body jerked as he peaked, and he came inside her.

They lay tangled together, eyes closed, breath
ragged. At last Mike felt her hand on his cheek. He smiled and kissed her lips.

*****

Fiona woke up to the sound of crow's cawing in the
trees outside Mike's bedroom window. Mike was still asleep, lying on his back
and gently snoring. She carefully rolled to the edge of the bed, looked around
to find her thong, and got up.

Her dress was still on the floor in the kitchen. She
slipped it on, collected her things, and slipped quietly out. It was still
early, and there was a moist chill in the morning air. But the smell was
fantastic. Fiona closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose,
appreciating the smell of trees instead of car exhaust. It was so different
here in the forest, with the smell of trees, but also the sound of birds
instead of traffic. It was like city detox.

She walked back to her cottage, enjoying the fresh
air, and feeling free about doing the walk of shame up a gravel road with no
chance of any stupid cameraman catching her.

Once inside, she ate a bowl of cereal, showered and
brushed her teeth, and went out on the front deck. The lake looked inviting. She
would have to swim today, but not quite yet. She'd spent some time thinking
last night, lying there next to Mike. He had gone quickly to sleep, but she was
used to drinking a lot more at night, and it took her a while to fall asleep.
She thought about what she was actually doing with her life, and what she
wanted to do. Mike's question popped into her head. He'd asked if she was going
to work on songs while she was up here.

She had never worked on songs. She had never worked
on anything. Her entire career she'd been a puppet. She'd always been given
stuff to sing, told what to do, been sent on tour, shown how to dance, given
things to wear. A record company and a management team had run every facet of
her career. And like she told Mike, she hated it. She hated her life. And since
admitting that fact, she'd started wondering how much control she actually had.
She'd been doing this since she was a child. The only serious career decision
she'd ever made was cutting her parents out of her career. Since then, she'd
relied on the record company people and Ken, her manager, even more. Her career
was solid, if not peaking the way some of her contemporaries were.

But her personal life was a total disaster, and it
was totally harming her career. Ken was in the 'any news is good news' army, so
he didn't mind her personal disasters. He figured the news cycle ran at such
high speeds, if she was caught drunk on camera on a Tuesday and then had a
successful concert on a Friday that counted as a comeback.

It was possible, she thought, that these people
might not have her best interests in mind. She put on fresh clothes and got
ready to go out, when she saw it: her cell. She'd left it on the bedroom
nightstand, and it had been completely forgotten since she got to this place.
She checked it, and like she expected, it was dead. She found the charger in
her suitcase, plugged it in and brought it back to life. There were seven
missed calls and a dozen texts from Ken, which could all be summarized with
"RU OK?!?"

Fiona sighed and called him back. He picked up on
the fourth ring. "Fiona, hi."

"Hey, Ken," she said. "Sorry I didn't
call you back. My battery died and I didn't see your calls."

"Jesus, I thought you went off the road or
something. I was going to call in the state troopers."

"I'm fine, Ken," she said. "Did you
know that Steve was having this place painted this week? There's some dude
painting the outside of the cottage."

"Oh, shit," Ken said. "I didn't know.
Is he hassling you? I'll call Steve and have him get rid of the guy. You don't
want him telling anyone you're there."

"No, it's okay," Fiona said. "I
talked to him. He's cool."

"Okay. So, are you doing anything up there? I
don't want you to just sit there getting pissed all day."

"No. I'm going to try the lake later today.
Maybe go for a run. I've got some stuff to think about. Actually Ken, I wanted
to ask you something. In your opinion, would you say that I work for the record
company, or would you say they work for me?"

There was a long pause. "You work for each
other. You are mutually beneficial. By the way, are you going to be back by
next week? You've got appearances lined up, and if we're going to cancel
anything, I should give as much notice as possible."

Now it was Fiona's turn to pause. How long was she
staying here? How long could she stay with Mike?

"Fiona?"

"I'll let you know tomorrow, okay Ken? I'm
going to leave my phone turned off for the rest of the day. I need some
phone-free time."

"Phone-free time? You?"

"Yeah. I'll call you tomorrow."

She ended the call. That was enough business talk
for one day. She tossed the phone onto the bed and walked out of the cottage.
She climbed into the Lexus and started it up. She'd seen a book store in Green
Lake the day before, and she decided to head into town and find herself a few
books to read. She didn't read enough books. Hell, she hadn't really read a
book since the first year of high school, which had also been her last year of
high school. She'd left school to pursue her career, and her parents had never
held her to a tutoring schedule to make sure she graduated. Really, she had a
ninth grade education. But that didn't mean she couldn't find a few books to
read now.

She drove to Green Lake and found the book store.
She picked out three novels, and also bought some notebooks and pens. Maybe,
she thought, she could write some songs. Or something. She didn't know anything
about writing, really. But what the hell, right? She was a celebrity. She could
do whatever she wanted. Even read and write.

* *

After eating some lunch at the same restaurant,
Fiona drove back to the lake. Mike was at her cottage when she arrived, diligently
painting the walkway. "Hey," she said. "Sleep late?"

"Oh, hello," he said. "You sure left
quietly this morning. You had me wondering if I dreamed the whole thing."

"I'm real," she said. "As real as a
pop star gets, anyway. I went and got some books to read."

"Cool," he said, getting up and wiping his
paint-stained hands on a rag. "What did you find?"

"These," she said, holding open her bag.
"
Written on the Body
. Love story, I guess. Looks sexy or something.
The Time Traveller's Wife
. I thought the movie was okay, so why not,
right? And this."

Mike looked at the stark black cover of the third
book.
Nausea
, by Jean-Paul Sartre. "Wow," he said. "That's
a bit heavy."

"I like the title," she said. "Have
you read it?"

"Yeah, I read it in college," he said.
"Give it a try."

"Is the deck dry?" she asked. "I
thought I would read out there. Get some sun." He told her it was dry, and
she went inside. She dug into her suitcase and pulled out her bathing suit. It
was a scandalously small bikini, made of a shiny gold material, and she put it
on. There were some deck chairs folded up in the corner of the living room near
the door to the deck, and she took two out. She looked to see if Mike noticed
her taking them out, and sure enough, he couldn't miss it as he painted the
walkway. She smiled, glad that he was seeing her in the sexy little bikini.

Fiona applied some lotion and lay out in the sun. It
was a warm, windless day, and the lake was gorgeous. She had her books, a
notebook and pen, and a bottle of water. She picked up one book and started to
read.

Since she wasn’t in the habit of reading, it did not
go quickly or smoothly for her. It was a struggle to follow along. She read a
dozen pages, folded a corner to mark her spot, and tried another book. Again,
she read a dozen pages, and paused. She folded a corner and lay the book down.
She looked at the third book.
Nausea
. Fiona gave it a try, but it was
more difficult than the other two. Like Mike said, it was heavy. The words
seemed like small black weights on the page. Even so, it hooked her somehow,
even though she read only six pages before she felt she needed to take a break.

"I don't have the attention span for
this," she mumbled to herself. The notebook was there, and she thought of
writing a song or something in it, but she had no idea how to start. She picked
up the notebook and the pen and joined Mike where he was painting. To avoid
walking over the wet paint she walked through the cottage, came out the front
door, and came up behind him. He was on his hands and knees, going back and
forth over the walkway's two-by-fours.

"Nice ass," she said.

Mike looked over his shoulder at her.
"Thanks," he said. "I'm pretty sure you're teasing me, but I'll
take the compliment."

"I have a stupid question to ask you," she
said.

"There are no stupid questions," he said.
"Well, actually there are. Lots of them, but let's assume this won't be
one. What's up?"

"Have you ever kept like, a diary or a journal
or something?"

"Sure," he said. "Usually
sketchbooks, but I would write in them too. Why?"

"I want to start one. I think it might be
helpful to, you know, write some things. But I don't know what to write. I don't
want to just write stupid 'this is what I did today' shit. I don't want it to
just be like, Facebook on paper. I want to try and get a little deeper than
that, you know?"

"Yeah," he said, and he turned around and
sat. "Okay, let me think."

Fiona sat in front of him, crossing her legs. He
stole a look at her body in the tiny swimsuit, which pleased her.

"You really can write whatever you want,"
he said. "There's no right or wrong. You can write the 'what I did today'
stuff, if you have something interesting you want to remember. You can try
writing songs, or poems, or little stories. Stuff from the news, or something
that's happening in the world. You can write down your dreams. Like, dreams
meaning fantasies or aspirations, but also your actual dreams from when you
sleep. You can write down memories. Write about people who you've loved. Even
if you don't love them now, say something about them. You need to honor past
loves. I believe that. "

"Those are great ideas."

He shrugged. "It's the same stuff I use to come
up with painting ideas."

"I'd like to see your paintings."

"I don't have much with me out here."

She shrugged. "Some other time then."

There was a quiet moment. "I'm going to get
back at it," he said. "I'm behind. This was supposed to be a three
day job."

Fiona stood up. "Sure," she said.
"I'll leave you alone."

"You're not bothering me," he said with a
smile. "I just need to keep at it."

"That's cool. We'll chat later." She
slipped back in through the cottage and out to the front deck. Planting herself
back in the deck chair, Fiona sighed and held the notebook in her lap. She
wished he didn't have to worry about painting the cottage. She wished he would
just come back her to the deck and chat with her.

She imagined him standing over her, pretending to be
just chit-chatting, but she would know that he was looking down at her,
checking out her nearly-naked body. He would start to get a hard on, and she
would notice it in the front of the cargo shorts he was wearing.

"What's that?" she would say, reaching out
to trace a finger along its length.

"Oh, nothing," he would say.

"It doesn't look like nothing," she would
reply, and she would pull him close so that he was standing right in front of
her. She would open the front of his shorts and pull out his cock, which would
be half-hard. She would slide her hand up and down its length, enjoying the
feeling of it hardening in her hand.