Chapter Six: One Set of Cancer-Ridden Incubators for Sale: As Is

Helena raised her hands and laid them on Tig's chest, feeling his heartbeat gallop under her palm as she spoke. "What happens now?"

Tig settled his hands over hers, pressing them harder against his chest as he looked over to where the Nemo's delivery boxes were precariously close to the edge of the still standing dining room table.

"We sit down, eat," he stated easily. Tig felt relief wash over him, a soothing balm to his overstimulated nervous system when Helena brushed her hair behind her ears and visibly relaxed as she treated him to a genuine smile and agreeable nod.

Tig followed Helena to the kitchen and fetched the plates she directed him to as well as the Kelly-green plastic container of grated parmesan cheese in the fridge's door. He refilled her wine glass and opened himself a new beer before he was able to focus all of his attention on her.

Tig watched Helena pump a pewter soap dispenser in the shape of a sea horse before she vigorously scrubbed her hands and under her fingernails.

Helena involuntarily flinched when Tig came and stood behind her, settling a hand on the counter on either side of her.

Tig smoothed her hair away from the side of her neck before pressing his lips to the exposed skin.

"Who was on the phone?" he rasped against her neck, his exhale hot against her bare skin, making her shudder.

Helena shook her head, "no one important," she murmured.

"Tell me why you moved here in such a hurry," Tig demanded through clenched teeth as he wrapped his arms around her waist and yanked her back against him. Helena gasped as his hands seemed to be everywhere at once. "I'll never let anyone scare you again," he added raggedly.

Tig felt Helena sag with resignation in the circle of his arms before she began to murmur lowly. "He was one of the physicians on staff when I worked on the neurology floor," she started.

Tig lessened his suffocating embrace somewhat as Helena continued. "His father was a doctor there and a lot was allowed to slide because of that," she scoffed, thinking if your father donated money for a new hospital wing, you could pretty much do whatever you wanted.

"What happened?" Tig murmured and began moving his palms in slow circles on her belly.

"He tried to hurt me," Helena whispered and sniffed hard before she added in a rush. "There was a security guard nearby who scared him away but didn't see enough to be a reliable witness."

Tig waited as she gathered her words and continued.

"I filed a police report, a report with the hospital but was told to not smear his good reputation and then asked to quit or transfer."

"And now you're here," Tig murmured contentedly.

Helena squeezed her eyes shut as she could still hear the high-powered legal dream team that Andy had hired from the Ivory Tower law firm Lawrence, James, and Hearst.

The obscenely overpaid lawyers had all smirked at her as she signed the lengthy NDA before she got the fat check, the amount of zeroes was what she had agreed her pain and trauma was worth.

That check got her the house with the small patch of property, a car and ensured that she had enough in the bank that she wouldn't have to kill herself working more than a part-time job.

"Why is he still calling you?" Tig asked when Helena stayed silent, locked in her fresh memories.

Helena laughed dryly, "because he's a fucking child and hates that I told him no and that he had to write me out a settlement check. He said he's going to get his money's worth," she added in a low hurry.

"Has he done more than call or send you flowers?"

Tig was relieved when Helena shook her head, "he's threatening to come here, he knows where I live."

"Turn around," Tig demanded on a husky whisper.

Helena slowly turned in the small amount of space he allowed to look up at him.

Tig paused to speak until he was sure he had every shred of her attention. "You can stop being afraid," he said in an easy tone that was in diametric opposition to the early homicidal bukkake thoughts he began to have about the doctor from the sunshine state.

As Helena debated asking him how he could speak with such unshakeable certainty, back at the Clubhouse, Piney was sitting up in bed watching tv while Gemma sat next to him and rapidly knitted the fourth placemat in what would eventually be a set of eight.

The HD screen was filled with a gossip show that somehow managed to add news to their title. Piney laughed until he choked, and his face turned as red as a tomato as a rising country music singer crashed his Maserati around a light pole with a triple the limit blood alcohol level. The kid survived with barely a scratch thanks to the airbags and his seat belt. The law enforcement dash cameras caught the singer trying to start the car even as the engine was on fire.

Back at Helena's house, she was very aware of the tiled edge of the counter biting into her back as she tried to increase the non-space between her and Tig's bodies.

Tig caught the rapid flick of her eyes as she looked past his shoulder. He couldn't help but tense as he followed her gaze and found nothing but the microwave, toaster, and coffee maker.

Tig turned his eyes back to her face and found her covering a smile. "There's a couple shows I like to watch that just started, do you mind?"

Tig smiled, "course not, lead the way," he added with a melodramatic bow and gestured towards the front room with the half-finished crown molding and unfinished drywall.

Helena slid past him, holding her breath, unsure if she wanted his hands and lips to stop or not.

Tig watched her pass and followed her into the front room after he plucked the wine and beer from the table.

Helena fiddled with the two remotes, still too lazy to go buy a universal remote as Tig settled on the sofa and refilled her glass as he opened another beer.

"I think I've had my limit," Helena said with a chuckle as her eyes landed on the filled glass. "I don't normally drink this much as it is," she added as she settled on the opposite end of the sofa as the same news program that Piney and Gemma were watching filled her 4K screen.

Helena and Tig watched the tv in collective silence until the commercial break.

Tig patted the space next to him on the sofa, "come here," he said just shy of demanding.

Helena smoothed her hair behind her ears and slid across the sofa towards him as he dropped his arm around her. Tig crushed her close to his side, nestling her in the strength of his arms and the overwhelming aroma of leather and woodsy masculinity.

Tig peppered her with questions about the doctor sending her flowers as Helena tried to focus on the celebrity fitness trainer involved in a love triangle with an NFL quarterback and his wife.

Tig wanted to know his name, the kind of car he drove, where he lived and what exactly he had done to her.

Helena finally refused to answer any more questions and turned further towards him as she lifted a hand to press her fingertips against his lips. "Please no more questions tonight," she practically begged.

Tig reached up and closed his large hand around her wrist. He nodded as he pressed his lips to her palm, thankful to any known deity as Helena relaxed against his side.

The undertow of too much unaccustomed alcohol pulled Helena into a heavy sleep and she slumped heavily against Tig's side.

Tig smoothed his hand up and down the space between her shoulder and elbow as he fell into an alcohol induced nap after he polished off his current beer.

Hours passed as they both slept until Helena stirred first as her bladder screamed at her, straining.

Tig kept his eyes closed as Helena mumbled to herself and walked to the bathroom. He waited until the door closed before he rose from the sofa and turned off the tv and lights. He paused outside the bathroom door as he heard Helena's steady stream of pee hit the water before he turned on the lights in her bedroom.

Tig's eyes swept around the room while in the bathroom, Helena brushed her teeth and washed her face.

Helena left the bathroom light on as she walked into her bedroom and found Tig sitting on the edge of her bed.

"Hey," Tig said easily as she paused in the doorway.

"Hey," Helena parroted before she added in an unreadable tone. "Are you the monster under the bed?" she breathed.

Tig shook his head before he stood. "I'm anything you need," he murmured as he kicked off his boots and pushed them under the bed.

"What side of the bed do you sleep on?" Tig asked as he unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and let it drop to the floor.

Helena didn't trust her voice to speak and instead pointed to the closest side of the bed, the side he had just been sitting on.

Tig never took his eyes off her as he yanked back the covers and then walked around the bed and did the same on the other side.

Helena watched him pull his short-sleeved shirt up and over his head, letting it land on the floor with a whisper of a sound.

"Wait a minute," Helena said as Tig began to unzip his jeans.

Tig paused his hands and met her eyes as she continued.

"What are you expecting?"

Tig raised his hands, "nothing cept' sleep."

Helena slowly nodded and shook her head at her nervous idiocy in her own fucking house. She pulled open the top drawer of her dresser for her cotton pajamas as Tig stepped out of his jeans and watched Helena disappear back to the bathroom to change.

Tig kept his boxers on as he slid under the covers and didn't have to wait long for Helena to reappear. He kept his disappointment at her pajamas off his face, the oversized shirt and drawstring pants were blousy and hid every curve and line of her body.

Helena slipped under the covers on the other side of the bed and pulled the linen up to her chest as she rolled onto her side to face Tig.

She found him already laying on his side, waiting to meet her eyes.

Tig could see the fatigue staining her beautiful features and that she was still tipsy. "Try to go back to sleep, we have all weekend to talk," he finally murmured and raised up to reach over her and turn off the bedside lamp.

He could see relief at a reprieve from answering questions in the near darkness illuminate her face. "Thanks," Helena mumbled, equal parts exhaustion and gratitude in her sleepy syllables.

For the second time that evening Tig told her to turn and face the other way. Helena rolled over and adjusted the pillow under her head as Tig slid closer across the mattress to pull her back into his arms. Tig tugged her close to the front of his body, her body molded perfectly against him, their bare skin separated only by her cotton sleep shirt.

Tig longed for sleep to claim his as fast as it had Helena. He wanted to stop being so acutely aware of her body under her thin pajamas. Tig craved an escape hatch from being bombarded by the warm scent of her skin and silken hair as he pressed his lips to the crown of her head.

As Helena plunged back into the depths of sleep, Tig squeezed the rounded cap of her shoulder before smoothing his hand down the outside of her upper arm and teased his index finger in a slow circle over the point of her elbow. Through the cotton pajama top, the rough pad of his fingertip moved in fluid grace before he continued to dance his fingers down the length of her forearm until he could intertwine his hand with her sleep-slackened hand.

Tig pressed his face to the curve of her neck as the stray strands of her silken hair tickled his nose. He breathed deeply as Helena remained locked in a dreamless sleep.

Tig clenched his teeth until his jaw popped as he fought to not wake her up by sticking his dick up her ass, in the quiet room, his mind dipped into wet memories from a pool of animal, human and aquatic sexual depravity. He unlaced his fingers from hers to slide and rest on the flat plain of her belly. Tig shuddered as he felt the dip of her belly button through the cotton nightshirt under his warm palm.

Tig smoothed his hands in slow circles on her belly, luxuriating in the warmth emanating through the thin fabric. His cock grew steadily harder until he hissed between the potent mix of titillation and pain as his rigidity pressed against the round curve of her bottom.

Tig groaned as he was assailed with foreign feelings of an unknown landscape as he listened to Helena's steady breathing over the drumbeat of his heart pounding in his ears. He was not accustomed to asking permission from anything he wanted, and lesser so even caring if the answer didn't echo his own base needs of the moment.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he stilled his hand against her belly and let his fingers splay open as he found himself surprised at the words that spilled past his lips.

"What'll it take?" Tig murmured against Helena's skin, her skin warm under his lips as he continued. "What can I do to make you want me?"

Helena's sleeping mouth didn't form an answer and Tig eventually lapsed into a fitful sleep. Tig awoke often, thinking he was only dreaming of sharing Helena's bed, breathing a ragged sigh of relief every time he found her within the tight circle of his arms.

As night passed peacefully for Helena and Tig, the bloated moon rose overhead, across town at the Club House, Piney fell in and out of sleep, inside his chest cavity, fluid began to build up in his lungs. The rising liquid was full of rapidly dividing cancer cells, his lungs a womb giving birth to stage four death.

Out in the open bar, the green felt of the pool tables were soon covered by drunk bodies either in the process of passing out or vomiting in the side pocket.

Dawn came for Charming and with it a crisp Saturday morning, forecasts of sunny skies and nary a cloud until the following Tuesday evening.

Tig stirred awake first, the micro-suede, slate-grey duvet cover had navigated to the foot of the bed and was bunched at their feet. A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as Tig pressed his face against the crown of Helena's head as he realized it was the first time he had woken up in bed or virtually anywhere with a woman without his sticky cum being in one or all of her orifices and/or any surface of her skin.

Tig propped himself up on his side, his elbow sinking further into the supple memory foam mattress and traced his fingertips down the center of her back, feeling the bump of each of her spinal vertebrates as his hand came to rest on the gentle curve of her lower back. Tig closed his eyes as he rested his palm on the exposed skin where her shirt had shifted during the night.

Helena began to rise into consciousness when she felt Tig's lips press against the naked skin of her back's natural curve. He shushed her and gently captured her wrist as she rolled to her side and pushed at his hand. Tig paused from where he had his fingers tugging at the waistband of her pajama bottoms.

"Why not?" Tig groaned, his cock painfully echoing his frustration as Helena resumed trying to squirm out of his embrace.

"Because I don't know who you are," Helena stammered. "And I, I," she tried but failed to add.

"You what?" he growled as he shifted and tightened his grip on her hips. "Talk to me," Tig tried to demand without forcing her to answer with a harder touch.

"I just don't know you," Helena finally repeated and continued to fruitlessly attempt slipping out of his ironclad hold, his fingertips burned like a molten lava bracelet around her wrist. "Who are you?" she added.

Tig stilled his hands as he met her eyes. "What do you want to know?" he rasped; his voice choked with a surging lust that sent testosterone sweeping though his nervous system like a high-winded wildfire.

"Everything," Helena murmured, not blinking under the weight of his penetrating cerulean blue eyes. Tig returned her gaze, nodding as he longed to be swallowed whole in her brown irises, the swirling mocha hues a virtual event horizon. Tig nodded again, Helena in that moment became his very ecliptic.