Forever Starts Tonight: Prom 2000
By Misty
Part Two
Saturday, May 2000
Glen Road
"Dammit, Christian!" Trixie yanked on the door handle, desperately trying to get out of the car. She turned in her seat and looked at the young man driving. "So help me God, if you don't pull this car over I swear I will live my life for the purpose of making you miserable."
Christian looked at Trixie and could see the truth behind her words in the angry flush that was climbing her neck. With an internal sigh, he maneuvered the car in front of the others on the side of the road.
Trixie held her breath, waiting anxiously for the car to stop. She couldn't hear anything around her; certainly didn't hear Christian talking. She couldn't see anything either. Nothing except the mangled wreck of two cars wrapped around each other and the light pole on the side of the road. Through her tunnel vision, she caught sight of Brian's car and then Mart's both pulled safely to the side of the road with their emergency lights blinking frantically. In all the insanity of the previous few moments, the lights caught her eye and she couldn't help but think they seemed to be sending out a distress signal, calling for help.
The car stopped and Trixie bolted out of the door as soon as she could get it opened. She ran as quickly as she could in the direction of the crushed car, cursing her high heels as she went. She pushed her way through a group of students who seemed to be standing around doing nothing. "Get out of my way!" she shouted while shoving her way through the group.
When she made it past the barrier of gawkers, she rushed to the sides of her friends who were moving around the cars trying to take stock of the situation. In the dark of the night, she spotted Brian, squatted by the driver's side of a green Ford Escort and ran to his side.
"What can I do?" she asked quietly as she knelt next to him, holding her long dress up off the ground as much as possible. The world around them was loud with frantic calls for help and the mulling of students in the crowd who didn't know how to help, but couldn't stop themselves from looking. But the space the two siblings occupied was quiet and they spoke to each other in low voices.
"Find someone to call 911, Trix. I don't think anyone's thought to do it yet and we're going to need a couple ambulances here as soon as possible. Then, come back." He looked over his shoulder where the second car in the accident was sitting. The headlights from the two vehicles helped light the scene for the most part, but they also caused shadows making those areas pitch black. A low moan rose from the passenger side making Trixie shudder. Brian's already grim look grew worse. "I don't know if it'll be worse to move them or leave them until the ambulances get here. I can't see inside to tell if they're bleeding out or if they've hurt their backs or what . . ." He turned back to the car he was next to and continued his efforts.
Trixie turned and saw Christian standing back with the crowd, glancing at his watch. She started to run towards him and felt her ankle turn slightly. With a curse, she kicked her shoes off and ran to Christian.
She stopped just in front of him and was preparing to ask him to call an ambulance when he grabbed her arm and started dragging her through the crowd. "Glad your friends are alright, Trix. This place is going to be a nightmare to get out of once everyone starts leaving. Glad we're going now," he said hurriedly, not giving her the opportunity to argue.
Trixie struggled until her arm came loose from his grasp. "What are you talking about?" she asked, confusion written all over her face. "I just need you to call the police." She started to turn away from him but was stopped by his hand on her elbow.
"Let's go, Trixie. We don't need to stay here. There're plenty of people to help, they don't need us. I'm sure someone has already called the police. . . ." His voice trailed off at the icy glare she was directing at him.
"Get your hand off me." She said between clenched teeth. When he removed his hand from her elbow, she turned with a swish of her dress and ran back to the scene, leaving him staring after her. With a sigh, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed 911.
Trixie half ran, half limped through the crowd. Because of the two slits up the sides of her dress, she wasn't able to move very fast without the dress getting tangled with her legs. She nearly tripped twice before she reached the cars again. When she got there, she saw a frantic scene in front of her.
"What's wrong?" she asked Brian anxiously.
"The other car is leaking gas. I think it'd be in our best interests to get everyone out as soon as possible," he explained quickly. "Mart, Honey, Di and Cathy are working on getting the crowd to move back and gathering coats and jackets we can use as pallets. Dan and I are working on this car. Go to the other one and see how Jim and Ruthie are doing, ok?" He turned back to the task in front of him, not waiting for a response from her. He knew she'd do as he asked.
Trixie ran to the other car, cursing her dress one more time. She stopped short in front of Jim. "What can I do?" she asked hurriedly as she bent forward, intent on doing something about her dress.
Jim looked up in time to see her lean forward and grab the two loose ends of her dress and tie them together in a sloppy knot by her right knee.
He coughed and cleared his throat, hoping his mind would follow suit. "We managed to get the other door open. Help Ruthie pull her out while I work on this door, ok?" he said quietly. It hadn't escaped his attention that this was the first time she'd willingly spoken to him in almost four months, but he didn't have time to dwell on that just now.
Trixie ran to the other side of the car and saw Ruthie struggling under the arms of a young woman who appeared to be conscious, but severely disoriented. "Let me help," she said above the rumbles of the crowd and the distant wail of a siren. She put the girl's arm over her shoulders while Ruthie managed to do the same with the other arm. They walked her to where Honey had arranged several coats on the ground – begged, borrowed or stolen by Cathy and Di - for her.
"Stay here with her. Make sure she doesn't pass out or anything." Trixie spoke briskly to Ruthie and then turned and ran back to where Jim was struggling with the other door.
Jim saw Trixie run up to him and answered the question he saw in her eyes. "The door's stuck. This is the side that hit the tree, so it's pretty smashed." He wiped his brow on his sleeve to keep the sweat from running into his eyes.
Trixie tried the door herself and Jim rolled his eyes at her, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
"We could try pulling him out the other side," Trixie said hopefully.
"I don't think he'll fit, what with the engine sitting in the seat beside him," Jim said wryly.
Trixie looked inside the car and, while it wasn't quite sitting on the seat, the engine had been pushed through the dashboard making it virtually impossible to move anything across the seat.
"Well, what are we going to do?" she demanded, her hands placed firmly on her hips. If their situation hadn't been so desperate, he would have taken the time to admire the way she looked with the dress tied together at her right knee, showing her left leg off from hip to ankle.
Instead, Jim took his coat off and wrapped it around his right arm up to his shoulder. "This is what we're going to do," he replied.
Before Trixie could ask what he meant, he'd smashed his fist into the backdoor window.
"Shit!" Trixie yelped. "Are you okay?" she asked and took a step forward, not quite believing what she'd seen.
Jim ignored her question for the moment and drew his arm back to hit it once more. This time, the glass broke completely. Using his covered hand, he brushed the broken glass away from the frame. "I'm fine. See, not a scratch!" He showed her his hand, which was red but not bleeding.
He started to hand his coat to Trixie, but she stopped him. "Jim, you're never going to fit through the window. Your shoulders alone are too broad, not to mention you'll never get your legs in there. I'll do it."
Jim hesitated for a moment, but knew she was right. "Wait a minute," he said, before she could propel herself into the car. He unwadded his coat and threw it over the broken glass that had fallen into the back seat. "There. It's not perfect, but maybe it'll help keep you from getting glass in your legs."
Trixie walked to the window and put her hands on the frame. She hesitated, not sure of what to do next.
"What's wrong?" Jim asked anxiously.
"Well, I don't know how to do this. I mean, if I were wearing jeans or shorts or something, I'd just let myself fall in, but in a dress . . ." she trailed off, gesturing to the gown wrapped around her knees.
Jim rubbed his lip, hiding a smile. "Here, let me help," he said. Before Trixie could protest, he'd put one arm around her shoulders and the other under her knees and lifted her easily.
"Put me down, Jim," she said furiously. "This is not the time for games."
"I know. And I am putting you down – inside the car. Just give me a second," he said. He slid her feet through the window and supported her as she shimmied into the back seat.
Trixie scrambled to the front and released the seat belt from around the driver, a young man who appeared to be about her age. "Hey, how's it going? What's your name?" she asked as she scurried around in the back seat, trying to get a look at what she was dealing with.
"It's going alright, except for the fact that I'm stuck in a wrecked car and my parents are going to kill me. My name's Tim, by the way," he replied.
Trixie noted that his voice sounded strong and she felt one of the small knots in her shoulders loosening at that. "Yeah, the car thing does suck, doesn't it?" She kept making small talk with him while trying to find the lever to allow the seat to recline. She moved the air bag out of her way and had to hide the gasp she let out when she saw the wreck his leg was underneath it.
"What's wrong?" Tim asked anxiously, hearing her sudden intake of air.
"Girdle," she replied quickly. Smiling at him, she continued her lie smoothly. "This dress only looks good on flat stomachs, but that means I can't breathe real freely." She found the lever and pulled up on it while pushing down on the seat. "We're going to have to lay you down to get your leg out from under the steering wheel, ok?"
"Sure," he replied faintly. "You can tilt the wheel up if you need to. The lever is under the column on the right-hand side."
Trixie looked at the steering wheel column. She'd have to reach under it, skimming Tim's bloodied leg to get to it. She swallowed the bile that was rising in her throat and concentrated on the task at hand. She reached the lever and tilted the wheel up, jerking her hand away as quick as possible. She let her breath out in a giant whoosh and settled into the back seat to think about the best way of getting him out. She looked at Tim, then looked at the broken window, then back at Tim before shutting her eyes and shaking her head slowly.
How could we possibly be so stupid? she asked herself.
She leaned out of the window so she could talk to Jim quietly. "Jim, I can't get him out," she whispered harshly.
"What? Why not?" he asked quietly.
"Because, if your shoulders are too broad to get into the car, doesn't it stand to reason that his will be too broad to get out?" she asked, her frustration mounting.
Jim turned and took a step away. Trixie heard him curse under his breath before he turned back around. He ran his hand through his hair, as he always did when he was feeling aggravated, and studied the car. His eyes lit on a solution and he walked briskly to the car. "Give me my coat," he ordered hurriedly.
She saw him eyeing the back window and held on to the coat. "No way. Huh uh," she stated firmly.
"Why not?" he asked, irritated that she was wasting precious moments arguing with him.
"Because, if you break that thing, you're going to fling glass all over both of us," she answered.
Jim quickly unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to her in the car. 'There, use that to cover the two of you up and give me my coat," he said quickly.
Trixie tossed his coat to him and gritted her teeth at the sharp pieces of glass that were being pushed into her knees. She took his shirt and pulled it over her shoulders and leaned over Tim to protect him from the shower of glass she knew was coming.
Seeing that Trixie had covered them as best she could, Jim proceeded to ram the window until it shattered.
Trixie threw Jim's shirt back to him and put her hands under Tim's arms. "Ok, I'm going to pull you out now. Let me know if it feels like anything's coming apart or breaking or anything, ok?" she instructed. She pulled on Tim's shoulders until she felt him budging from underneath the steering wheel.
Jim had put his shirt back on and buttoned a few buttons on the bottom just to keep it from gaping open. He lay on the trunk of the car and put his arms under Tim's as soon as he could reach. "Hey Trix, can you help pick him up?" he asked.
Without a word, she slid her arms under Tim's waist and helped lever him up and over the back seat. When his torso was out the window, she began lifting his legs out of the window, taking extra care with the one that was seriously injured.
Jim lifted him out of the car and turned to take him to the waiting crowd. Dan was standing behind him and took Tim out of his arms. "I've got him. Get Trixie and let's get the hell out of here."
Jim nodded silently and turned back to the car. Trixie had already slid out of the back window and was preparing to jump to the ground. "I can walk by myself," she stated firmly.
Jim started arguing, "I think you should just let me carry you," but was interrupted by the gasp of pain that came from Trixie as she jumped to the ground. He tried again. "You have glass in your feet. Just let me . . ." but was once again interrupted.
"I can manage on my own," Trixie insisted between gritted teeth as she started limping towards the crowds.
Jim sighed before picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder.
"Hey!" Trixie yelled. "Who the hell do you think you are?" she asked incredulously. When he didn't answer, she pounded on his back as hard as she could. "Put me down!" she demanded.
"No!" he yelled back. "You have glass in your feet and I'm not going to let you walk on them so you can grind it in where we have no hope of ever getting it out. It's not going to happen so you may as well just enjoy the view and get over it."
Trixie glared at the car. If she'd been able to cross her arms, she would have. She refused to look down and give him the satisfaction of knowing she'd "enjoyed the view".
Dan led the way, with Jim following closely behind. Dan hoped he'd be able to guide Jim to a place where he'd be able to set Trixie down and examine her feet. They approached a group of people and Dan was relieved to see Honey waving them to a place away from the crowds. He bent over to set Tim on the pile of sport coats and when he was a few inches off the ground, he felt something pop in his back. He tumbled forward with a muffled curse, but was able to deflect his body away from Tim's and he fell to the side.
Honey ran to him. "Dan, are you ok?" she asked.
Dan let out the breath he'd held and chuckled an embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine Honey. Just lost my balance a little." He rose with a groan, rubbing his back as he walked away.
Jim watched his friend leave, concern written across his face. "Why don't you go see about Dan, Honey? Make sure he's feeling alright," he said simply. He set Trixie down next to Tim and knelt down to look at her feet. There didn't seem to be many cuts, which relieved him. "Oh! And ask Brian if he can come take a look at Tim until the ambulance can get here. By the way, where's the ambulance?" he asked Honey, realizing for the first time that, while he'd been hearing sirens for several minutes, he'd yet to see an EMT or a flashing light.
"The crowds were too big. They're having problems getting here. Brian's taking care of the victims as best he can and Mart, Di, Cathy and Ruthie are trying to get the crowds to leave or at least move their cars. They should be here soon," she said over her shoulder as she walked quickly to find Brian.
"Alright, let's take a look at those feet," Jim said as he knelt in front of Trixie.
She crossed her arms in front of her, but let him take her feet in his hands. She was still miffed that he'd carried her against her wishes.
He gently picked out the larger pieces and eased his grip when he felt her foot relax in his palm. She uncrossed her arms and leaned back on them to give him easier access to lifting her leg as he needed. "How is it you came to be without shoes?" he asked, keeping his tone conversational.
"Well, I was running around and I felt like I was going to break my neck. Or at least my ankle. So, I kicked them off and forgot where I left them," she replied with a shrug. The adrenalin was wearing off and her exertions were starting to take their toll on her. She lay back on the soft pallet Honey had made for her. She looked at the stars above and admitted to herself that she was glad Jim had carried her. Picking shards of glass out of her feet was not on her list of top ten fun things to do on a Saturday night.
"Well, it looks like most of this is just on the surface," he said absently as he continued to pick the larger pieces of glass from her feet. He squinted, the lack of light making it nearly impossible to see what he was doing. Every once in a while, a sliver of glass would glint in a passing light and he'd find it easily, but more often then not, he had to run his fingers lightly over a place in her foot until he felt a large piece sticking to the bottom.
They stayed together in silence, Trixie lying down staring at the stars and Jim sitting in front of her with one of her feet in his lap and the other in his strong, capable hands. When there were no more pieces of glass large enough for Jim to get a hold of, he ran his finger up and down the side of her foot softly just so he wouldn't have to let her go. So far, she hadn't complained about him touching her.
Trixie stared at the stars. Under any other circumstances, she'd think the whole situation was romantic. Oh, not the car accident or the glass stuck in my feet, but the part where Jim was touching me so carefully while I look into the sky is actually pretty nice. Yup, take away the fifty or sixty people gathered around us, the cars about to explode, the ambulances, the blood and, oh yeah, both our dates, and this would be a perfectly romantic evening.
She was torn from her fantasy by the shouts of the EMTs running towards them. One of them went straight to Tim to assess the damage there while another knelt by Jim's side.
"What's wrong here?" she asked briskly.
"She has glass in her feet. I took out the large pieces I could see, but I'm sure there are some smaller pieces I couldn't get to," Jim answered, moving out of the way as the EMT took his place in front of Trixie.
She looked at Trixie's feet and then looked at the ambulance, which had finally made it's way through the throng of people and was parked about twenty yards away where the more critically injured people had been taken. "Do you think you can carry her to the ambulance?" she asked Jim. "It's not strictly procedure, but I think all the gurneys are being used for other people right now," she explained.
"Sure!" Jim exclaimed, gathering Trixie up in his arms ready to follow the EMT.
"Thank you for not throwing me over your shoulder again," Trixie said.
"Thank you for not throwing a fit this time," Jim replied just before settling her inside the ambulance.
Trixie's eyes became narrow slits. She slid further into the ambulance so the EMT would be able to make use of the light. "Oh, and Jim?" Trixie asked sweetly, waiting for Jim to turn around. When she had his attention, she continued, "The view sucked earlier." She smiled sweetly and waved goodbye to him.
He turned and walked away, but not before she saw his answering smile.
After the ambulances drove away and the tow trucks had come and removed the cars, the crowd disbursed, leaving the bloody and bruised Bob-Whites milling around their cars. As the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles faded into the distance and the headlights gradually diminished, the group was left in near darkness with nothing but the moon to guide them.
Trixie's feet had been cleansed and the few cuts bandaged. Her dress was still tied at her right knee. Jim's shirt and coat were a total waste, but he wore them anyway figuring it was better than nothing. Di's deep purple dress had a large blood stain at the bottom where she'd used it to help put pressure on a wound. Brian was sporting a black eye where a car door he'd been trying to open came unstuck very suddenly. Cathy's pink dress was smeared with blood and was torn at the hem. Dan was still holding his back, but trying to ignore the ache. The heel on one of Honey's shoes had broken off, but she limped around with it as it was, not wanting to risk her feet the way Trixie had. Mart's coat was gone, used to either warm someone or as a cushion for them to rest on. Christian, still clean and impeccably dressed, stood out like a sore thumb against the others whose clothes were tattered and torn.
Di cleared her throat first and smiled. "Well, there's still a party to be had and there's no reason we shouldn't go enjoy ourselves. We can call the hospital in an hour or two and find out how everyone is doing from there," she stated. She walked to Mart and took his hand to lead him back to his car. She was worried they'd stand there all night in shock if someone didn't start moving soon.
Everyone began moving towards their cars, but milled around instead of getting into the vehicles.
When she could see that nobody was moving to leave, Di tried again. "So, you're all coming, right?" she asked pointedly. "I have clothes the girls can change into," she assured them.
Trixie cleared her throat. "Actually Di, I think we're going to skip the party if that's all right with you," Trixie said timidly. She pointedly avoided everyone's gaze and kept her eyes focused on some spot in the distance.
"Sure Trix. Whatever you want," Di replied, her confusion obvious. She pulled her friend to her for a hug and whispered in her ear, "What are you doing, Trix?"
Trixie spoke low so everyone wouldn't hear her. "Whatever I have to. Don't worry; I know what I'm doing. It's worth it." She released herself from Di's grasp.
Christian opened the passenger door for Trixie and she settled herself into the front seat of his car. He let himself in on his side and turned the key. Trixie waved at her friends as they drove off and noticed that Jim was staring at her, his eyes never wavering from hers.
She turned and stared out the front of the car, but she could feel Jim's eyes boring into her even as Christian turned off Glen Road into the driveway of the Glen Road Inn.
"We're here," Christian said, grinning smoothly in response to her tenuous smile.
Christian opened the door then stepped back so she could enter before him. Trixie stepped into their hotel room and looked around nervously while fidgeting with the shoulder strap of the bag that hung loosely at her side. She wasn't quite sure where to go or what to do. She knew she didn't want to get any closer to the bed than was necessary, but that severely limited her movement options.
She jumped when she heard the door shut behind her. Christian placed one hand on her shoulder and the other on her waist, pulling her back towards him. Trixie's heart was beating like a hammer and her breaths were becoming more and more shallow. I'm going to have a panic attack! The thought filled her with horror.
Christian placed his lips on the back of Trixie's neck, making her yelp. She moved out of his grasp and pulled her bag more firmly on her shoulder. "I'm just going to clean up a little bit and change into something else, ok?" she asked, smiling while trying to keep her voice from quivering.
"Sure," Christian replied, reaching up and tugging on one of her curls.
Trixie froze and reached up to remove her hair from his grasp. She thought about all the things she was willing to do that night, but letting him tug on her curls was not one of them.
She walked as fast as she could without running toward the bathroom, talking to him as she went, "I'll, uh, be done in a minute," she said quickly as she shut the door behind her and locked it.
She leaned against the back of the door and took several deep breaths. "Calm down, Belden," she chastised herself. She pulled herself up and set to work preparing herself, muttering "I can't believe I'm doing this" over and over as she worked.
Twenty minutes later, she'd cleaned all the visible blood stains from her arms and legs. Her face was clean and glowing. She'd managed to get her hair back in some order and she'd ditched the blue dress in favor of a slinky blue nightgown that hugged her body like a glove.
She stepped back to look at the results and quickly misted herself with a body spray. "That's as good as it's going to get," she mumbled to herself. She threw her dirty clothes in the bottom of the bag and placed her jeans and a T-shirt on the counter. Hesitating, she reached under the nightgown and removed her panties and put them with her jeans. She'd want to wear those after the nightgown came off. She carried the bag with her and casually tossed it in the chair that sat next to the bed.
Christian turned around when he heard her walk out and whistled appreciatively. He prowled across the room to where she was standing, hands on her hips, seemingly daring him to come and get her. She worked as much attitude into her movements as was possible. It wouldn't do for him to think of her as passive. She was fairly certain he was looking for a challenge.
Christian placed his hands on her shoulders and leaned forward to brush his lips against hers. She fought herself to stay where she was and not pull back from him. She even managed to deepen the kiss a little without any visible signs of disgust. Christian ran his hands down her back and was pleased to note there wasn't anything under the thin fabric.
His hands ran down her butt and her eyes opened wide in astonishment. She pushed him away with a throaty laugh. "Not just yet," she said, urging him around the chair to the side of the bed.
He smiled, letting her be the aggressor. When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed, she pushed on his chest until he was forced to sit down. With a self-satisfied smile, she climbed onto his lap and started kissing him while unbuttoning his shirt with swift fingers.
She leaned close to push his shirt off his shoulders and he took the opportunity to nuzzle her cleavage. Trixie gasped and gritted her teeth, but managed to pool her features into a sultry smile before facing him again.
"Oh, no, no, no," she said seductively. "I'm in charge here, not you." She reached behind her and rummaged in the bag she'd left on the chair until she found what she was looking for.
Christian looked at her hand and saw she was holding a maroon silk scarf. She tied one end around his right wrist and pushed him back so he was lying down and looped it through the decorative iron bars on the headboard. She pulled tightly on the scarf, forcing his hand up. He smiled at her and gripped the headboard to give her easier access to his left wrist.
She tugged on both ends to make sure they were secure before she worked her way down his chest. She kissed him lightly and ran her tongue down his stomach. She unzipped and unbuttoned his pants. Then she tugged them, along with is underwear, over his hips and down his legs before tossing them across the room.
"Just one more thing," she murmured, leaning back to the chair, pulling something else out of her bag.
His eyebrows shot up when he saw the handcuffs, but she moved too quickly for him, cuffing first one hand, then the other. "Hey! What the hell are you doing?" he yelled.
Trixie untied the scarf and tossed it back in her bag. Wordlessly, she stalked to the bathroom and shut the door. Less than a minute later, she walked back out, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, the blue nightgown wadded in her hand. "I'm leaving," she said simply.
"What the fuck is your problem, bitch?" Christian yelled. He tugged on his hands, trying to free them of the handcuffs that were wrapped around the iron of the headboard. When he couldn't get free, he banged them against each other in frustration.
Trixie grabbed a rubber ball out of her bag and forced it into his mouth. "Just shut the hell up," she hissed while fastening the clasp at the back of his head. She turned her back on him and started rummaging through her bag once again. She pulled out vibrators and dildos of all shapes, sizes and colors and laid them on the chair next to her bag.
Christian saw them and his eyes grew wide. She could hear him grunting and groaning behind his S&M gag and couldn't help but chuckle. She pulled some rubber gloves on her hands and started the task of smearing lubricants along the various sex toys she'd pulled out of her bag.
She squeezed a black tube until about half the gel inside had slid down the side of the tube. She scooped some up on her finger and slid it around Christian's lips. "This is deep throat gel. Supposedly, it helps relax the muscles in your throat so you don't gag," she told him matter-of-factly. He squealed and bucked, banging the handcuffs against the headboard and the metal that was holding him prisoner. "Be sure to let me know if it works, ok?" Trixie asked snidely.
She dropped the tube on the bed next to him, making sure some of the gel smeared on the sheets. She took a fresh tube of KY Jelly and squeezed it in her hands. She rubbed them together, then ran her gloved hands down Christian's legs and around his hips, making sure she got plenty of the lube on his butt cheeks. With a shudder, she closed her eyes and grabbed his penis, rubbing a generous amount of the lube down his shaft.
She dropped him quickly, happy to be done with that unpleasant task. She pulled the sheets up around him to make them look, well, used and smeared more of the lubricant around. She threw the dildos on and around the bed, even leaving one with a suction cup on the bottom stuck to the hardwood floor in the bathroom. She lifted a purple vibrator and looked at Christian, thinking. Having made up her mind about something, she finally spoke. "I'm not going to leave this one with you after all. I hope you don't mind, but it was a gift and I'd hate to lose it." She cleaned it off and tucked the instrument back into her bag, happy that she'd kept the birthday present from Di that had helped her conjure up this idea for revenge. She had plenty of props for Christian; she didn't need to sacrifice her gift.
She pulled the gloves off and tossed them next to the bed as well. She put a small whip on the table and grabbed several erotic male on male magazines that she tossed through the room, some with pictures open to rather creative positions.
When her bag was packed, she looked around the room and nodded. She was satisfied with a job well done. She walked over and looked at Christian, his hair now matted with sweat from struggling against his restraints.
Trixie eyed him closely, making sure his attention was focused on her. "I would suggest you stop thinking of women as conquests and start showing a little respect," she said quietly. Christian turned his head away from her, anger and frustration seeping out of his pores. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Trixie turned his face back to her and forced him to look up at her. "Look at me when I'm talking to you. I want you to leave me and my friends and my family alone from now on. Do you understand me, Christian?" she asked. When he didn't respond, she asked again, more forcefully. "Do you understand me?" He nodded his head, a murderous look in his eyes. "The maid will be here in a few hours to clean the room, so I'd suggest you just rest until then, ok?" Trixie grabbed her bag and walked across the room.
"Oh, and one more thing," she said as she set the bag on the floor by her feet. She reached inside and grabbed a Polaroid camera. His eyes grew wide and once again, he began struggling against the handcuffs. She started taking pictures of him, looking as if he was tired and sweaty from sex. She made sure to get all her props in the photos for the maximum effect. "One word of this to anyone, I'll publish the photos. If you bother my friends, my family or me, I'll publish the photos. If you do anything I don't like to anyone, I'll publish the photos. Got it?" she asked.
She didn't bother to wait for an answer this time. She repacked the camera and the pictures in her bag and opened the door to leave.
She turned around and plastered a fake smile across her lips. "Thanks, Christian. I had a really nice time tonight," she said sweetly before closing the door behind her.
Trixie walked up the front porch at Crabapple Farm, her bag slung loosely over her shoulder. The walk from the Glen Road Inn hadn't taken long and she'd enjoyed the peaceful night. She dug her hand into her pocket, searching for keys. Once she'd retrieved them, she looked up and glanced to the right into a window facing the living room. She smiled to herself and shifted her weight to give herself a better view.
Her father sat on the sofa, his back reclined against the arm while her mother sat between his legs leaning against his broad chest. He'd placed a hand over the slight swell in her stomach and her mother had covered his hand with hers, lacing her fingers through his. Her other hand held steady the pint of chocolate ice cream that sat on her stomach while his other hand held the spoon they were sharing, one bite for him, one bite for her and one bite for the baby.
Trixie smiled at the scene and turned around slowly before tiptoeing off the porch. She wandered aimlessly for several minutes, not wanting to disturb her parents and not feeling in the mood to socialize with her friends. She knew there would be questions and she didn't feel much like answering them right then.
It didn't take her long to make her way to the clubhouse. Smiling to herself, she used her keys to let herself into the little cottage. She dropped her bag onto the floor and walked to the secondhand couch they'd bought several years ago. She dropped herself onto it wearily, covering her eyes with her hands and finally taking note of her throbbing feet. She groaned a little before swinging her feet onto the couch and lying down. She only meant to rest her eyes for a minute, but exhaustion soon took over and she was dozing peacefully.
Jim walked away from the Lynch mansion, the music and laughter behind him nothing but a faint memory. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his tattered suit and continued shuffling down the dimly lit path. He knew he was exaggerating his bad mood with the slouch and the slow shuffle, but he couldn't help it. Admittedly, nobody could see him as he walked away, but he was rather enjoying his bad mood and felt his physical presence should be an accurate representation of his misery.
She'd gone with him. That little bastard. They'd talked tonight, laughed together, even helped each other and still she turned away and went with him.
He walked along, not knowing where to go when he noticed the light in the clubhouse. He sighed deeply, really getting into his tortured soul act and trudged towards the door, intent on saving electricity. When he reached the door, he was surprised to find it unlocked. Once opened, he was even more surprised at finding his very own Goldilocks on the couch.
He looked at her, his face softening and a smile reaching the corner of his lips. She came back. He backed out of the room quietly and closed the door after him softly so as not to wake her. He walked around the clubhouse, making his way to the path on the other side of the building that would lead to the game preserve. He was just happy to know she didn't stay with him after all.
She woke to the sound of a click. She sat up and tried to clear her thoughts with the shake of her head, but it still took her a moment to remember where she was. She stood up and stretched her arms over her head, pausing suddenly when she heard a noise outside. Holding her breath, she stopped and listened, closing her eyes to help her hearing.
There it was again, the sound of someone walking on dry leaves and snapping twigs.
For the second time that night, her heart was racing and she ran through all possible plans and immediately discarded most of them. Her only option was to try and stop the person.
She snuck quietly out of the clubhouse, tiptoeing around the front towards the sound of the person walking. She crouched down to keep from hitting low hanging branches and to keep her shadow as small as possible. It wouldn't do any good to scare the stranger away before she found out what it was they wanted. When she was able to make out the outline of a man, she took a deep breath and with a silent prayer, sprinted across the path and tackled him. She wondered at the sensation of flying through the air and she couldn't help but think how exhilarating the experience was just before she slammed into the person's broad chest, knocking both of them down into a pile of leaves.
They hit the ground hard, the stranger absorbing most of the impact. Trixie felt a whoosh of air come out of his mouth, realizing too late her knee was pressed into his chest. She moved quickly, straddling his chest and gripped him with her thigh muscles, intent on finding out his reasons for sneaking around without giving him a chance to escape. Clouded by her anger, it took her several minutes to realize the person under her was Jim. Speechless, she sat on top of him, waiting for him to say something.
Jim looked into Trixie's eyes, trying to ignore the pinecone under his back. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something and he was momentarily grateful that the wind had been knocked out of him. It gave him an excuse to gather his thoughts and try to convince his lower body to not react to the way she had spread her body across his.
He took a deep breath and coughed a couple times, still unsure what to say. Of course, she doesn't seem to be interested in moving as long as I don't talk, he thought to himself. With that in mind, he moved his arm under his head, propping it up slightly so he could see her better. He smiled a crooked smile and settled himself in to wait the night.
Trixie looked at him, her eyes narrowing. She recognized the smirk on his face and rolled her eyes. I can't believe he's getting off on this, she thought, putting extra weight on his chest and squeezed a little harder so he'd have to take more shallow breaths. So I'm a little vindictive, she shrugged to herself.
Jim's eyebrows rose and it took all his control to not start laughing. Trixie is so beautiful and single-minded when she's angry, he thought. He tried to project innocence through his eyes. After all, you are the one who tackled me, he seemed to be saying.
Trixie read his eyes perfectly and felt a smile tugging at her lips. She didn't want to smile, but couldn't help the laughter bubbling up inside her. It was true, she'd tackled him. To be angry with him for being there seemed a little silly. And how they must look, laying on the ground. And how she must have looked flying through the air! Thank goodness Mart wasn't around, she thought to herself.
Neither of them said anything for several minutes. They both seemed to be waiting for the other to break the ice. Not wanting to be the first to speak and not really wanting to stay so physically close to Jim, Trixie started moving off his chest.
Jim felt her move and reached up with his left hand to stop her. He hadn't wanted to say anything earlier. He didn't want to shatter the peaceful moment with words that, no matter how hard he tried, never managed to be the right ones. But he also couldn't let her leave without saying something. They'd had a breakthrough that night and knowing she hadn't spent the night with Christian made him hopeful that she thought so too.
With his left hand, he reached up and tugged one of her ever-errant curls. He smiled softly as she turned her face into his hand so his palm was cupping her cheek. He took a deep breath and coughed once more quietly, trying to get more air into his lungs.
Trixie, alarmed at the fact that he was still coughing leaned forward. "Are you okay, Jim?" she whispered frantically not wanting to disturb the stillness that had embraced them.
He ran his fingers down her cheek and sat up, using the arm that had been under his neck to help him. He slipped his left arm around Trixie to support her as he sat. He spoke softly, his voice ragged from coughing. "What can I say? You've always left me breathless."
Leaning forward, he closed his eyes and kissed her softly.
The End