Behind the Green Curtain (9 page)

Chapter 18

Amelia woke at the curve of the
driveway. Lethargic gaze trailing up to the home in which she’d spent the
largest part of her adult life, the tinted glass turned the white pillars gray,
giving them the appearance of giant prison bars against the night.

Righting herself in the seat, she
rubbed the corners of her eyes as she waited for the door to open and the
steady, familiar hand to help her from the car. Her bags already waiting by the
door, Antonio carried them the rest of the way in and set them in the foyer
while Amelia punched in the alarm code.

“Would you like me to carry these
upstairs for you?” he offered.

“This is fine,” Amelia softly
replied. “Thank you, Antonio.” She pulled out a bill large enough to make the
driver smile, which he did without even looking at it. He had no need to look.
All animosity toward Amelia came from within the walls of her household.
Outside, she was far more loved than she was within.

“Thank you,” Antonio said, stepping
back out onto the porch and pulling the door closed behind him.

Door locked and alarm reset, Amelia
grabbed her smallest bag and started up the stairs. At the third floor, her
steps gentled, and she approached the bedroom warily. Inside, Jack slept,
tucked on one side of the bed, head angled away from her. She could get into
the bed without waking him, she knew. Sleeping through security alarms, a false
fire alarm, and the cries of their daughter as an infant, Jack had always slept
like a man who had no worries at all.

The empty space beside him looked
emptier than ever, and, though she was tired, Amelia wasn’t tired enough.
Placing her bag inside the door, she retraced her steps, back down the stairs
past her office and into the front room. Clicking on the small lamp by the
window, she curled up at the end of the couch, knowing she would fall asleep
there. She often did on nights when she was too tired not to think too much.
She should have taken an earlier flight, gotten home in time to sleep before
her subconscious kicked in. The middle of the night was no time to refrain from
thinking.

Not that she could claim much to
think about, free as she was from the worries of people who weren’t her. Her
parents were well. Her father had grown stronger as he had grown older, a
blessing Amelia couldn’t ignore. Her mother had always been strong, for all of
them. Her daughter was in one of the best schools in the world, exposed to
opportunity Amelia never could have dreamed of at her age. Her husband was
successful. Her home was, for most people, a castle in the sky.

From nearly any vantage point
outside her own, Amelia always ended up admitting to herself in these moments
when gloom turned her pristine world into a dystopia, she had no right to sleepless
nights.

~ ~ ~

It was Sole who found her in the
morning as she entered the room to crack the wood blinds. Opening her eyes into
the sunlight, Amelia knew Jack must be awake. Jack never slept in late. There
was too much life for him to live. Or so was his mantra.

“You stayed down here?” Sole asked,
moving to the end of the sofa.

“I fell asleep,” Amelia replied.

It was the answer she always gave,
less taxing than the truth, but she wasn’t keeping anything from Sole. Sole was
well aware why Amelia ended up on the uncomfortable sofa the times that she
did. She knew the transition from her parents’ home, where affection lived and
breathed, to the house she lived in, where affection came to die, was always a
difficult one for Amelia.

“You look like you could use some
more,” Sole softly prodded. “Why don’t you go upstairs for a while?”

“I’m fine,” Amelia said, sitting up
as if to verify the statement. “Is everything ready for tonight?”

“Yes,” Sole nodded. “Caton and I
took care of it.”

Though the mention was expected,
Amelia’s reaction to it wasn’t. Surging through her unbidden, warmth filled the
hollows, and she took a steadying breath, trying to adjust to the sensation.
“Good. I’m glad I was worried for nothing.”

“Were you really worried?” Sole
questioned, and Amelia shrugged noncommittally as Sole perched on the end of
the sofa to study her. “You know, she thinks you don’t like her.”

That was a ludicrous notion, Amelia
thought instantly, though she didn’t share why it was so absurd with Sole. She
suspected Sole knew more than she let on anyway. Walking in on her watching
Caton strip didn’t leave much to the imagination. “Why would she think that?”

“I don’t know,” Sole shrugged.
“She’s scared of you.”

“Scared?” Amelia almost laughed.

“You make her nervous,” Sole
returned carefully.

Watching Sole glance toward the
corner of the rug Amelia had accidentally flipped up on her walk to the sofa
the night before, and hadn’t bothered to fix, a light smile broke through on
Amelia’s face. Sole walked the line with the precision of a tightrope walker.
Not once had she given Amelia advice straight out, even when Amelia had asked
for it. Sole knew it was beyond her role. She had a way, though, of saying just
enough to make Amelia take a second look at things, forcing her to reevaluate
on her own.

“Do I?” Amelia posed with no
expectation of response. “Let me see what you’ve done.”

Gaze returning to Amelia’s, Sole
looked awfully satisfied for someone who had said so little, and, with a nod,
she stood to lead Amelia from the room.

~ ~ ~

At the very least, Caton’s
party-planning was complete. The room was decorated, the food plentiful and
agreeable, and there was enough drink to go around, which, Amelia thought,
looking down into the swirling liquid, was all that was really necessary.

Raising her eyes to the guests in
her home, she maintained her pleasant disposition without effort. It was easy
to fake interest in others, she had realized years before, by not being
entirely present. She was an expert at hearing just enough to respond if called
upon, even as her mind drifted to places she would rather be.

It was where her mind kept drifting
that was proving problematic. She had charged Caton with putting the event
together, and Caton had done so with minimal direction, so her touch was on
everything, from the slightly eclectic food selections to the place settings.
That visible presence, and the fact that Sole had brought her up earlier in the
day, were surely to blame for the invasive thoughts in Amelia’s head that left
her restless and picking at her main course.

Watching Sole lead the small
serving crew into the room, Amelia waited for Sole’s eyes to land on her. When
they did, she waved Sole over, taking little time to consider, and Sole
responded like someone accustomed to following her every command. There was
some injustice in that, Amelia thought, when Sole was the only person in her
life who seemed to truly know her at all.

“Yes, Ma’am.” Sole approached her
formally.

Waving her into confidence, Amelia
drew Sole near enough no one would overhear. “Call Caton and tell her I need to
see her.”

“Now?” Sole asked in surprise.

“Yes, now,” Amelia replied,
returning her eyes to the table as if she was making a sensible request,
knowing Sole would do as she was asked, even if it was a mistake on both their
parts.

It felt like hours later, after the
dinner plates were cleared and dessert was on the table, and the constant flow
of alcohol had turned business bragging into bawdy tales of after-work
activities, that the doorbell finally rang. Turning from the far end of the
table, Jack appeared concerned at the interruption, and Amelia felt a peculiar
sense of expectation roll through her as Sole walked into the dining room with
Caton at her back.

Though she looked decidedly
uncomfortable entering the crowded dining room, Caton was surprisingly fitted
to the formal occasion.

“Caton, Ma’am,” Sole announced,
moving aside to give Amelia an unobstructed view.

Flowing emerald dress turning
Caton’s eyes to chlorophyll, they locked intensely on Amelia, and she knew she
was wrong to have called Caton. And right to have called her.

“Caton, what are you doing here?”
Jack uttered, and a surprising wave of anger rolled through Amelia at the
question he had no right to ask.

“I asked her to come,” Amelia
declared, standing from the table, but it failed to ease the panic that
darkened Caton’s gaze. “I apologize. I’ll be only a minute.”

Grabbing her half-full glass from
the table, she walked past the curious dinner guests and turned Caton by the
arm, pressing her out of the room. By touch alone, she led Caton up the stairs
and into her office, shutting the door behind them. The moon full outside, it
provided light enough to illuminate both the room’s surfaces and Caton as she
turned back to her, so Amelia didn’t bother to turn on the light.

“What did I do?” Caton questioned,
arms crossing over her chest, marring the perfect image she presented when she
walked in. “Bad cider? Wrong place cards?”

Amelia didn’t know what exactly she
intended when she told Sole to call Caton. She knew only that she wanted to see
her, whether or not it made sense. Watching Caton dig in for an argument they
weren’t even having, though, Amelia was struck by exactly what she wanted to do
with her. Hand going to the lock, she turned it, her intent suddenly clear to
both of them.

Any further questions appeared to
die in Caton’s throat as she took small backward steps at Amelia’s approach.
Perhaps Caton truly was afraid of her, Amelia considered, watching her retreat.

Backing between the two leather
visitor chairs, Caton reached the desk’s edge and had nowhere left to go, and
Amelia closed in on her gingerly, realizing, if Caton feared her, it was by her
own actions and only she could erase the lines she had drawn.

One step at a time carrying her
ever closer, she pushed the chairs apart, not stopping until she was
practically on top of Caton, Caton’s lips hovering an inch from hers. In either
fear or expectation, Caton closed her eyes, and Amelia fought the urge to rush
forward with abandon and cover Caton’s lips with her own.

“You didn’t have to dress for the
occasion.” She busied her mouth with words, sucking in Caton’s uneven
exhalation as her lips parted.

“I was on a date,” Caton responded,
opening her eyes, something almost angry flashing in them, and Amelia took a
startled step back, inexplicably bothered by the statement.

Glancing down at Caton’s dress, at
her guarded stance, Amelia let the words work themselves out in her head,
smirking as she came to the result. “You were on a date,” she stated. “But you
left to come here.”

“Sole said you needed me,” Caton
returned weakly.

“I do,” Amelia replied, stepping
forward again with satisfaction and sliding her wine glass onto the corner of
the desk.

Body bumping into Caton’s crossed
arms, Amelia circled her hands around Caton’s wrists, easing them out of the
way, and Caton’s eyes fluttered shut again, resistance melting along with her
defenses. Every breath that left Caton’s body felt and sounded like surrender,
and, heart thumping in response, it was Amelia who was suddenly afraid.

Ignoring the pressing temptation of
Caton’s lips, Amelia dropped down before her, hands running up Caton’s legs
until they reached fabric and edged it upward. When she glanced up, Caton’s
eyes were open wide, but she made no effort to impede her, and Amelia certainly
had no power to stop herself.

Her fingers slipping beneath the
edges of Caton’s panties, she pulled downward, and Caton stepped free of them
without protest, allowing Amelia to push the fabric back up her legs, complying
without hesitation when Amelia urged her onto the edge of the desk.

Bunching Caton’s dress in her
hands, Amelia nudged Caton’s thigh with her chin and Caton opened herself up
with surprisingly little inhibition. The acquiescence was more than enough to
alleviate any reservations Amelia had, and she gave in to the craving she’d
been fighting all night, laving a wet line up impossibly soft flesh. As Caton
moaned in response, Amelia felt no need to quiet her. Unless someone was
standing right outside the door, there was no one who would hear.

Insinuating herself deeper, Amelia
closed her eyes at Caton’s flavor flooding her tongue, and with a groan, her
body gave in, pressing closer to Caton of its own accord. Releasing one side of
Caton’s dress, Amelia felt the fabric fall over her shoulder as she wrapped her
arm around Caton’s thigh, hand clutching Caton’s hip to draw her closer.

As her tongue moved upward to
circle Caton’s clit, Caton’s staggered breaths fell over Amelia like rain. A
soft flick, and Amelia succeeded in pulling a strangled cry from Caton, before
she closed her mouth around the spot, sucking with gentle pressure.

Caton moaned again, and Amelia
opened her eyes, raising them to Caton’s face. Moonlight hitting her from the
back, Caton was cast largely in shadow, the yellow light bordering her like a
halo, basking her in an ethereal glow, and, instantly, Caton’s pleasure became
Amelia’s sole intent.

Seconds ticking by much too
quickly, the chance of being interrupted ever-increasing, she traced a rapid
pattern against Caton’s flesh until Caton began to rock against her and her
head arched back, casting light over her features. Amelia watched her go still,
a portrait of beauty frozen in time, one leg so taut against her side, Amelia
knew it would ache in the morning, until finally, with a ragged exhalation,
Caton’s pleasure pulsed against her mouth.

Amelia finished at her own pace,
long, leisurely strokes catching the nectar that dripped from Caton’s body. It
was only when Caton pushed her away, trying to close her legs against her
continuing exploration that Amelia retreated far enough to open her lips
against the creamy skin of Caton’s thigh in a near-kiss.