I’m here for her.
Slowly, the door squeaks open. Basked in the light from the hallway is Mindy. Her face is shrouded in the darkness of the room, but I’d recognize her reddish-blonde hair and the curves of her body anywhere.
She reaches into the room and flips the switch on the wall. The light is so bright that it makes me blink. It bounces off the opposite wall that’s also lined with mirrors, perfectly showing my reflection. I hate that I can see myself standing here waiting for her.
“You meant what you said?” she asks. I don’t ignore the twinge of hope I think I hear laced in her words. Not something I’d give to just anyone. But this is Mindy, and I’ll give her what she needs.
“Of course,” I say. My own voice doesn’t sound like how I think it should. I should sound bored or confident, but I don’t. I’ve never been here before, never promised a woman what I’ve promised her. Safety. Love. Myself. Even if I didn’t say those words exactly, she should know they’re what I meant.
“You can’t . . .” she says and sucks in a deep breath before she continues. “You can’t touch me, but I want you to. One day, I want to be touched. I want to be better.
“I need to see it,” she says. Her high octave crawls almost impossibly higher as she takes a single step into the room. How the fuck am I going to show her if she won’t let me touch her? She takes another step in the room and steps aside, showing me a woman standing behind her in nothing but a pair of black panties. I recognize her as Kaz, a nurse who likes to party with us.
“Please,” she says.
I shake my head and toss my hands up in the air. “This is too fucked up, even for me.” I run my hands through my wavy hair. It feels slick to the touch from all the sweating I’ve apparently been doing while I waited for her in here. Fucking nerves, man.
“Ian,” she says louder now. Her voice shakes as her brown eyes grow wild with fear. “I need this. You promised me you’d help me that you’d take care of me.”
In an instant, I’ve pushed off the mirror and have closed the distance between us. I reach out and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her close to me. Her body stiffens, tears now stream down her face, and she hiccups.
“Let me have this,” she begs, careful not to touch me as much as possible. Mindy isn’t good with gentle or kind. I know this. But I can’t help the desire I have to give her something that’s not entirely fucked.
Leaning in close to her ear, I whisper, “I can take care of you. I can be good to you. Let me show you that I can do more than I have been, just not this. Please not this. Let me show you that I can make love to you.”
“I don’t want that,” she says, slowly stepping back and sliding out of my grasp. “I just want to see it.”
“Yes you do,” I say. I stay where I am though everything in me begs to reach out for her, to hold her and keep her safe. I’ll protect her body and her heart. I’ll keep every part of her safe even if I have to kill again to do it. “You had good once—you know how it felt. I know you remember the good in life, baby. Just let me bring a little of that back to you.”
“Show me, Ian,” she says. “Show me how you can make me feel.”
“I will,” I say and reach out for her.
But she pulls back and points to the woman still standing in the doorway. “On her. I can’t be touched yet. I want to. I really do, but I keep replaying that horrible night in my head and making sex into this huge scary thing.”
But she pulls back and points to the woman still standing in the doorway. “On her.”
My gut twists, rejecting the idea. It’s not like I’ve never done shit like this before. I’ve had complete strangers against walls, in bars, on pool tables. I’ve had them in public and in private, and I’ve had one at a time and more than I can count, usually with props. But I’ve never had this. If this wasn’t Mindy, I’d already be fucking hard at the idea of some crazy chick watching me fuck. I like an audience, and I like it rough. Not everybody is into that, and a lot of women thought they could handle it only to run away screaming. But not with Mindy.
I don’t want that with Mindy.
She’s had fucked-up. She’s had shit she didn’t want, couldn’t handle, and won’t ever fucking get over.
I won’t be another thing she has to get over.
I’m going to be the thing that pieces her back together.