5
Salem
Fantasies and Faucets
M y shoes squelched on the wet grass as I walked across the garden, carrying a mug of steaming tea. A chorus of birds rustled in the bushes, shaking droplets of rain from the leaves. The sun was sinking beneath the horizon, all that remained of its fiery glow now hidden below the ocean cliffs.
My phone pinged with an alert, but it was just an event reminder for tomorrow. Swiping it open, my heart dropped when I saw the notification: Flight to Vegas—Honeymoon Time!!!
The pit inside me grew deeper.
It wasn’t that I missed Colin; I’d mourned our relationship at first, but now, I was mourning the future I thought I’d have. The life I’d built up in my mind had crashed and burned, and part of me still felt like it was my fault.
With a heavy sigh, I sat on a stone bench in the middle of the garden and stared up at the house. The windows were aglow, and there, in her bedroom on the third floor, was Rayne.
She didn’t see me—or at least, she wasn’t looking at me. Her hair was down, long and loose like it had been at the bar. Her lips moved, singing along to music I could faintly hear.
She swayed slightly, rubbing the back of her neck. Like she wanted to dance, but it was too embarrassing in her own presence.
In one smooth motion, she pulled her shirt off over her head and tossed it to the floor. A black sports bra covered her, but she reached for that too, and I—I should have looked away.
I didn’t.
Her back muscles flexed as she lowered her arms. Her skin looked soft and warm in the meager light, and I imagined what it would be like to touch her again.
To caress her arms, kiss her neck. Make her moan like she did to me.
Her hair swept her lower back as she ran her fingers through it, then turned to the side. ..
She hadn’t taken her clothes off during our time together at the bar. The sight of her made something desperate awaken inside me—something starving.
I’d gone through my fair share of romances and heartbreaks. After Colin, I’d convinced myself the foolish part of me who could give away her heart was dead.
Apparently, that part was dangerously alive and kicking. Lust wasn’t love, but it was still too damn close.
Rayne stepped out of my line of sight, and the spell was broken. I got up abruptly, so flustered I left my mug of tea behind as I hurried out of the garden.
I may have been unexpectedly single for the first time in three years, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t prepared to take care of myself. Frankly, the universe owed me some orgasms at this point.
My waterproof vibrator and the claw-foot bathtub in my room were about to become my best friends.
With the air full of steam and comfortably hot water surrounding me, I imagined it was Rayne’s fingers trailing down my chest instead of my own.
Her hands squeezing my breasts, rolling and pinching my nipples between her fingers, talking to me sweet and filthy, “That’s it, pretty girl. Does that feel good? Do you want more?”
I groaned, imagining her husky voice whispering in my ear. Switching on the vibrator, I gasped when I pressed it against my clitoris and tingles exploded through my nerves. My legs shook, overwhelmed for a moment...
“Such a good girl. Take it for me.”
Waves of need roiled my stomach. On my knees, I leaned over the edge of the tub. One hand held the vibrator between my legs while the other supported my chest. Eyes closed, I imagined her behind me, fingers teasing me.
“That’s it. You look so fucking sexy, Salem. God, I could eat you alive.”
A whimper exploded from me, unbidden. Colin had once bragged to me about what a “freak” he was in bed, but that man was as vanilla as they came. My uncertain requests for kinky play were usually taken as complaints—blows to his ego—and then brushed off as disturbing or dangerous.
Rayne had no idea what I liked; she barely knew me. But for a few minutes, I imagined that she did. I imagined that I admitted every desire to her, and that when I did she gave me a dark grin and said, “Anything for my needy little slut.”
My legs shook, and it was as if I wasn’t in the bath at all anymore. In some wicked plane of my imagination, I was on all fours with Rayne curled over my back, her fingers inside me, one hand around my throat. Panting, pleasure building, I cried her name aloud and barely opened my eyes...
Someone was standing in the bathroom. A tall, red silhouette with long, dark hair, who seemed to subtly change and sway with the swirling steam.
A rush of cold air surrounded me. The light flickered. The figure moved, and I swore I caught a glimpse of a gaunt, bloody, corpse-like face—rotten lips pulled back from blackened teeth.
I screamed, flailing backwards. I tried to brace myself on the faucet but it broke away from the wall, water blasting from the broken pipe and pouring over me as I slipped and fell on my back—
“Fucking Christ!”
Rough hands pulled me from the tub. I was held—carried—out of the bathroom and dumped onto the bed, very wet and entirely naked.
In the seconds it took me to sit up, one arm wrapped protectively around my chest, Rayne was already back in the bathroom, having turned off the water and now staring at the broken faucet.
“There was someone,” I gasped breathlessly. “A person, there was—in the bathroom—”
Slowly, Rayne reached into the tub and pulled my vibrator from the water. Oh, God, now would be a perfect time to melt into the ground. She turned it off and set it aside on the sink, then grabbed a towel from the rack and brought it over, wrapping it around my shoulders as I shivered.
“Someone broke into your room?” she said, her tone skeptical.
I shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know! Someone was standing there, but I didn’t recognize them!”
Her hand rubbing slowly on my back, she said, “Are you hurt?”
“No.” A lie. My pride was aching. “I swear I saw someone. I opened my eyes and they... they were there... right there.” I jabbed my finger at the exact spot on the floor where the figure had stood.
Rayne entered the bathroom again. She drained the tub, she looked behind the door, in the cabinets. She even searched the closet. With every passing second, I felt more and more like a child crying about a bogeyman under my bed.
I could practically hear Colin’s voice telling me, “It’s in your head. It’s your anxiety talking. Just pop a pill and chill out.”
Silly, anxious Salem. Scaring herself again over nothing.
My chest was tight, and adrenaline bloomed behind my ribs. She didn’t believe me. She thought I was a liar, I was making things up, I was crazy . My throat constricted, eyes stinging. Goddamn it, I didn’t want to cry in front of her.
“I know what I saw,” I said desperately. “Something was there.”
“I believe you,” she said gently. “Can you remember what they looked like?”
Desperately casting my mind back, I shook my head. “I don’t know. It was foggy. They had long hair. They were wearing red, I think.”
Of all things to get a reaction out of her, I hadn’t expected it to be that. But she stiffened, and finally looked at me. Really looked, as if there were secrets written on my face.
“Did they say anything?”
I shook my head. My fear was slowly dissipating, leaving exhaustion in its place.
“Well, whoever they were, they’re gone now,” Rayne said, sighing heavily.
“And I’m sure you don’t want to stay in a room with a broken bathtub.
” She glared at the faucet, rubbing the back of her neck.
“There’s one other room with a similar view.
It’s on the third floor, so guests don’t usually stay there, but it’ll have to do. I’ll give you a minute to get dressed.”
I would have rather just gotten on the next boat and gone back to the mainland. Leave all my humiliation right here on the island and pretend this had never happened.
Instead, I collected my bruised pride and dressed myself.
It felt as if her hands had left imprints on my body: The places she’d touched me when she scooped me up felt so warm.
I tried to come up with something clever to say, some kind of joke I could make to ease the tension over breaking her things—but my mind was an embarrassed blank.
Had I simply seen a shadow and scared myself? Try as I might to recall a clear image of the intruder, I simply couldn’t. Was I just tired? Hallucinating?
After dressing and gathering my things, I found Rayne waiting for me outside the door. She gave me a strange look as I emerged, staring at me as if she was imagining something else in my place.
“This way,” she said, and I followed her down the hallway to the third floor.
She walked ahead of me, marching like she was on a mission.
She was only wearing socks, sweatpants, and a long-sleeved black shirt.
Her hair was somewhat damp, wavy and loose, the fresh scent of shampoo wafting behind her.
The certainty that I’d ruined her relaxing evening made me feel worse.
Still, it was a little exciting to follow her past the Employees Only sign to the third floor. Like the floor below, it was spotlessly clean, lit by the sconces lining the walls. There were no portraits here, however, unlike the rest of the house. The walls were entirely empty.
“I’m really sorry about the faucet,” I said, unable to keep the apology back any longer. “I’ll pay to fix it—”
She stopped before a closed door, rummaging in her pocket. “Don’t worry about it. Shit breaks all the time. One of the fun perks of living in an old house.”
Withdrawing a key, she opened the door and flicked on the lights inside.
The room was larger than my previous one, with a view of the lighthouse to the northwest and windows overlooking the garden and greenhouse to the south.
However, the furniture within wasn’t as modern.
There was a distinct smell of dust and the soft vanilla scent of old books.
“I usually don’t put guests in here, so pardon the dust,” she said. “The decor is a little dated, but it’s all clean and functional. I’ll get a fire going for you.”
She didn’t go far to collect some wood. She opened the door next to mine, and I got a glimpse of the room within. There was a big bed with green blankets, upon which Loki was sleeping. A bookshelf covered in old vinyls stood beside a record player and set of speakers. It was Rayne’s bedroom.
Directly next door to me.
She returned with an armful of split logs as I dumped the contents of my backpack on the bed. As I organized my clothes, she got a fire going, and I kept sneaking glances at her over my shoulder. She took her time, tending the flames until they were crackling and the chilly room began to warm.
“I’ll be next door,” she said. “If you need anything.”
“Okay. Thank you...”
She stood in the open doorway, hesitating, as if there was something she wanted to say.
Her mouth twitched with something dangerously close to a smile.
Then she reached for my doorknob, and as she pulled it closed, she said, “Have a good night, Salem. Try not to use up too much water with your shower fantasies.”