15. Like a Prayer
Like a Prayer
Charlotte
Three Months Later
S eptember 1, 1998
I lean against my bathroom door, click the lock, and blow out a long breath.
If I call him now, I’ll be interrupting his sleep. Won’t I?
I glance at my watch. 10:47 p.m. isn’t that late. Is it? Yes, it is. Way, way too late.
But his note said, “Call anytime. I’ll pick up.”
I set the two boxes from Arden on my bathroom counter.
One contains a burner flip phone that Arden’s note assures me has no paper trail that connects us to each other. It’s prepaid and programmed with one number: his burner phone.
The other box contains a blue waterproof silicone vibrator shaped like a—even in my head I can’t say it out loud. It comes out as a ridiculous whisper.
“Penis, Charlotte,” I mutter. “It’s a penis. If you can’t say it, how the heck are you going to be able to do this?”
We can’t be graphic in our emails. It made it easy to give Arden the impression I’m confident with my sexuality. Does wishing I were count?
Sexual inhibitions are hard to shake when you grow up in a place like Blackwater. The culture surrounding sexuality sinks into your psyche in unexpected ways. Churches around here still pressure teenagers into wearing “promise” rings and vowing to never have sex out of marriage. Meanwhile, they blame girls for tempting men and leading them astray.
My family and closest friends supported me when I reported Polford, but for years there were people who tried to convince me that even if he did “stumble,” it was my fault. Then I became an unwed mother in a place where so many people here took it as confirmation that I was a “fallen woman.”
I know it isn’t true. I worked on thoughts like that with my counselor. But deep down, there’s still a well of reserve inside me that I want to push past, if I can only figure out how to do it.
Right now, a hidden puritanical corner of my mind is fighting against the bigger part of me that thinks sexual release is healthy.
With Steve, it wasn’t so much that I let go of my inhibitions as I rationalized them. I knew I was safe with him. He’d stop at the slightest sign I was uncomfortable, and we’d already told each other we were in love. In my mind, I was making love to my husband.
This is different. It’s not me getting swept up in a moment. I’m about to have phone sex with a man who isn’t technically even my boyfriend.
But I’m not hurting anyone, and masturbation isn’t dirty. Arden will talk me through it, and it’s going to be fun.
The sight of my trembling fingers fills me with a jolt of determination. Steve’s engagement ring twinkles on my finger, the diamond so tiny that it’s little more than a chip. I loved it from the first moment I saw it. I rarely remove it, even to sleep, but I'm not an engaged woman any longer. I blow out a breath and slide the ring off.
The world doesn’t implode. The sky doesn’t fall. My feelings for Steve weren’t confined inside a diamond, and our past hasn’t been erased just because my future lies somewhere else.
For now, I set the ring on a small jewelry dish on the bathroom counter. Later, I’ll put it in the box of mementos I’ve saved for Bronnie.
Following the directions in Arden’s note, I run myself a bubble bath and light a few candles for ambience.
After I’ve removed my clothing, I sink into the tub with the phone and toy situated nearby on a small set of plastic shelves. Then I dial Arden’s number and lift the phone to my ear.
He answers on the first ring. “Charlotte.” His voice is almost a purr, and my nipples harden in response.
“Yes, sir.” It’s supposed to be a sassy tease to show him I’m plenty sophisticated, thank you very much. Instead, it comes out wavery and breathy. Every single piece of anxiety I’m feeling is loaded into those two syllables.
“Happy twenty-fourth birthday. Did you have cake at your parents’?”
It takes me a moment to formulate my answer. I thought we’d jump straight to “ Are you naked?” “ Yes. It was nice. They had a cookout. My siblings brought their spouses and kids. How did you spend your evening?”
“The boys and I worked on martial arts training. Gabriel earned his green belt, and Henry earned a junior brown belt tonight.”
His tone makes me smile. “You’re adorable when you’re smug.”
“I’m a fully grown adult male. I haven’t been adorable since I was six. Think of my ego, Charlotte,” he teases.
“Oh, right. I forgot you need stroking. I meant to say, ‘You sound so smoking hot when you’re smug.’” I say the last words woodenly, as if I’m reading a script.
He barks out a laugh, and I grin, sinking deeper into the tub and running a hand through the rose-scented bubbles. “Just a tip for next time. It would be better to pick a day when you don’t send other gifts with your adult presents. It was a race to vet them before Bronnie’s curiosity got the better of her. Three-year-olds are notoriously nosey.”
“Does that mean you’re interested in receiving more gifts of the adult variety?”
His tone of fake, detached curiosity makes me smile. “No, because you’re not allowed to send me random gifts for no reason.”
“Oh, I’d have a reason.”
I snort. I can almost see his eyebrows waggle.
“Thank you for the flowers. I love them.”
“You should let me send them every week.”
“Too obvious. People would notice and start talking. There’s no point in dealing with gossip if we don’t have to.”
“You just performed a cost-benefit analysis and chose the practical solution. How very McRae of you.”
“I guess you’re rubbing off on me.”
“I would very much like to rub off on you.” The purr is back in his voice.
I laugh but squirm, water splashing against my breasts as I shift in the bathtub. My nipples harden, and heated arousal pools in my pelvis.
It’s different, getting to hear his voice. Addictive.
“Are you still nervous?” he asks gently.
“I wasn’t. Until you asked me if I was.”
“Even when I’m the one giving directions, you’re in charge. Call it off if you’re not having a good time.”
“This could turn out to be the most awkward, uncomfortable thing ever. I will bail so fast if it is. See if I don’t.”
Arden’s tone is a growl. “Good. Did you go with the bubble bath or the bedroom?”
“Bath.”
“Are you relaxed?”
“I’d be more relaxed if you came here and taught me how to use your present, in person.”
He’s silent for a long moment, then says quietly, “Don’t tempt me unless you mean it.”
It was an unthinkingly cruel thing for me to say. I’m the one afraid of the press digging too deeply into my life. I’m the one who has to stay here and keep Polford well and truly hidden. I swallow past my shame.
Arden clears his throat. “I’m imagining you in that bathtub, but there are things I can’t picture. How big are your nipples? Tiny? Large? Somewhere in between?” His voice is a growly grumble. I can imagine what it would be like to feel his lips against my neck as the vibrations of sound lift every small hair on my body.
“They’re not small. Maybe the size of a quarter after my pregnancy.”
He groans. “That is sexy as fuck, Charlotte. I need you to get those pretty nipples hard for me.”
“They already are,” I admit.
“Pinch them, then rub your wet fingers over them. If you close your eyes, you can imagine those soapy fingers are my tongue. If I were there, I’d lap at them like a cat with cream.”
I close my eyes, touch myself, and let everything else go, sinking into the image of Arden here with me. He’s sent me photos of himself on the beach in swim trunks. Arden isn’t a super hairy guy, but he doesn’t shave or wax his body hair. For me, he’s absolute perfection. A trail leads from Arden’s belly button into his shorts, and he does have a six-pack.
I picture that big body, in this tub with me, rubbing against me. His tongue laving my nipples. It doesn’t matter that we’d never fit in this space together in reality. It’s my fantasy, and in it, I can make it work. “Where are you? Your bed?” I ask.
“In my mind, I’m right there with you. Imagine that, Charlotte. I am.”
“Yes.”
“Trail your fingers down your abdomen. Explore. Enjoy the sensation of smooth skin under your fingertips. But don’t touch your pussy, yet.”
That word is a record scratch in my mind. I’ve never heard it used in an intimate setting like this. Around here, it’s an insult.
But Arden’s words are no insult. That word, in that tone, makes it impossible not to focus on the aching arousal pulsing in that part of me. “Okay.”
“Slide your hand from your hip all the way down the long muscles of your thigh. Not your fingertips. Your whole palm, fingers spread wide. That’s how I’d touch you, if I were there. I’d lift that leg and prop it on the edge of the tub so you were wide open for me.”
I do as he says. The hot, but not too hot, water caresses newly exposed nerve endings, and I whimper without intending to.
“I know, sweetheart. It’s almost time.”
I bite my lip as I wait.
“There’s another part of you I’ve never seen. Are you smooth or are you all-natural?”
I hadn’t considered that Arden might have a preference. I’ve had the same hygiene routine since I was a teenager. “I trim and stay neat with a razor, but I’m not . . . no. Do you prefer waxed?”
“I prefer you , however you are, that’s what I want. That’s what has pre-cum dripping onto my balls before I’ve even touched my cock,” he says.
Arden has impeccable manners. He rarely swears, even in emails, and I had this image of him saying, “I’m having a graphic fantasy about your body,” and me responding, in so many words with, “I, too, am fantasizing about you.” I hadn’t considered that he’d actually be graphic, despite every single conversation leading to this moment hinting that he would if he could .
In one telephone conversation, I’ve leveled up my understanding of who this man is and how much we’re missing because of how limited our conversation is. Emails only go so far, especially when we have to be careful.
Everything about the way he’s talking to me has me stretching and squirming and wanting more. At the same time, he’s pushing against the barrier in my mind that says, “ Good girls don ’ t.”
“No toy yet. Use your fingers to glide between your lower lips. Make an inverted V and spread them wide.”
Another sound escapes me, as I do as instructed.
“You can touch your clit with your fingertips now. Is it swollen, or do we need to work it until it’s stiff and your opening is soft and slippery?”
“Arden, I don’t . . . I don’t . . .” I don’t know what I mean to say when I cry out his name. All I know is I’ve never been so aroused, yet somehow freaked out at the same time.
He pauses. “Do you remember what I said? We can shift gears and talk about something else. We’ll go back to exactly what we were.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Honey, you sound conflicted.”
“I don’t know how to explain. I want this so much, but part of me feels like I’m wrong for wanting it. I know I’m not. I don’t want to stop. Not at all. The things you’re saying are making me really horny, Arden.” The last words leave me on a whisper. I want to sink into the tub and stay under water forever. “Oh, God.”
“Is it your voice telling you this is wrong or someone else’s?”
“I . . . Not me.” I blow out a breath. “I think I needed to hear that. Definitely don’t want those people sneaking into my head right now.”
“You’re brave and kind and sexy as hell. And you are good , Charlotte. I’ll say it as many times as you need me to,” he says.
I take a deep breath. “I’ve already messed this up, but please don’t stop. I’ll call it off if it isn’t working for me. Please.”
He’s silent. Then, voice gruff, he says, “You’re doing beautifully, sweetheart. Touch your clit, Charlotte. Imagine it’s my tongue. How does it feel?”
I drop my hand back between my thighs. “Good. Really good.”
“Slide your fingers down to that sweet little opening. Are you slick?”
My abdomen clenches as I follow his directions. “Yes.”
“The bath will wash some of that away, but you’re going to bring a little of that honey up to your clit and play.”
Water splashes as I move my hand, and I hear the distinct sound of Arden touching himself. It’s not gentle. Maybe that’s why I can hear it. If he were less desperate, I’d never know he was working himself as he thinks of me doing the same.
“It’s time for the vibrator, Charlotte. Bring it down and touch yourself. Find the setting that feels good. The one that makes you want to roll your eyes back in your head.”
“Okay. I . . . did it.”
“What setting did you choose? Do you like it gentle or do you need it rough?”
“I . . . medium high. Not all the way.” Tension coils inside me, like a rubber band twisting and twisting, ready to snap.
He makes a sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. “If you feel empty, then slide it inside that sweet pussy.”
I don’t go deep. The shallow pressure and vibration is enough to have me clenching my teeth and practically wailing through them in pleasure.
“That’s it, Charlotte. You don’t know what I’d give for that to be me, sliding inside you. Feeling you squeeze around me. Making us both feel so fucking good.”
The tension ramps higher, even as, inexplicably, something inside me loosens and uncoils. My body softens yet begs me to give it more. I barely register that I’ve slid the vibrator inside all the way. That I’m using it on myself in time to the sounds I hear as Arden works toward his own orgasm. There’s no thought left in my head. I’m nothing but sensation.
“Are you close?” Arden’s voice sounds tight.
“Almost.”
“I can picture you. So beautiful as you bring yourself to climax. Do you need to work your clit to come, or can you get there like this?”
“I’m going to . . . get there . . . like this.”
“Tell me, Charlotte, when your body spasms in pleasure. Tell me when your pussy clamps down on that cock inside you and you shake from how good you feel.”
Despite his instructions, when the wave hits, I nearly forget to speak, sucked into the undertow of a climax unlike anything I’ve experienced in my life.
My words, when they come, are nearly incoherent. “Arden. Now. It’s—” A broken keening escapes between my teeth as I convulse and shudder in electric spasms of pleasure.
The sound of Arden . . . his own hand shuttling faster and faster . . . then a grunt and . . . stillness. Nothing that I can hear or see or feel as Arden comes with me, his release evident by the silence, alone.
Reality descends between us as my heart rate calms. There’s something almost clinical about removing the vibe from my body, turning it off, and setting it aside. As if every bit of its magic was tied to Arden’s voice, and in his absence, it’s been reduced, once more, to a piece of blue silicone.
My bathwater is lukewarm now, and a shiver rattles through me.
Maybe he heard my shudder because he asks, “Are you all right?”
“I can’t remember the last time I felt this relaxed. I’m going to sleep like a rock when I get into bed.” It’s not a lie. My body feels replete, but my heart is heavy. We should be curling up into each other’s arms, not getting ready to hang up the phone.
His chuckle skates across the deepest parts of me, warming me a little from the inside out. “Dream of us, Charlotte. Another one of your beautiful dreams.”