Author: Porter, Camilla
Date: 2019-08-19

Battle Scars

Helen Blacksmith

Copyright © 2018 by Helen Blacksmith

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and specific other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

For permission requests, email the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at:

Hblacksmith42277@gmail.com

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter One

Andrea:

The nightmares would come randomly, without warning, but they were always so vivid. It felt like I was still there. I could feel the scorching heat of the desert sun. Smell the putrid air, a mixture of sewage and blood. Taste the dirt. And feel stinging pain the shrapnel. But the screams. The screams were the worst. They were entwined with the sound of the explosions, always three of them, alongside the sound of twisting metal and shattering glass. Just like the nightmares I had lived through.

When I woke up, my ruined arm would ache in remembrance, and my body would be so drenched with sweat that I would have to change the sheets and my pajamas.

Tonight, was a particularly brutal night. Both of my nightmares wrapped into one. I could hear my baby's laughter, see his happy smiling face only to have it transform into the grotesque trauma of that night. That night when I lost everything.  And then everything around him exploded into fire and shrapnel and pain.

My eyes snap open as I sit up trying to catch my breath.  My short blonde hair is plastered to my head, soaked in sweat just like the rest of my body.

As I reach towards the nightstand for my pain meds, my hands won't quit trembling.  Shaking my hands and wringing them together I try to stop the tremors, but I know it's useless.  Nightmares like this always had residual effects, and the tremors were the ones that lasted the longest.

Carefully opening the bottle, I dig out two Percocet and chew them before swallowing. This is the quickest way for them to take effect, and I use the half-empty beer bottle next to my bed to wash them down.

I pick up my phone and see that I have five missed calls. Four are from my sponsor Mike and one from my mother. Mike is almost desperate as I listen to his voicemail asking, practically begging, me to call him. It's not like I'm avoiding him but listening to him lecture me right now just wasn't a priority. My mom, however, tells me she's bringing me her chicken soup tomorrow which makes me smile and gives me something to look forward to. There's not much of that nowadays.

I look at my alarm clock. It's nine o'clock PM. I've managed to sleep for almost three straight hours. A new record.  I'm meeting my friend Samantha out, but I have plenty of time to get ready.

Stretching painfully, I make my way to the shower and turn the water on to the hottest setting before scrubbing my hair and skin.  Then I shave everything including my pubic hair.  I'm headed to The Indigo tonight, and I don't plan on coming home alone but I probably will.  Since I got home six months ago, I always go out with intent but have never been able to follow through.

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in a towel before going into the kitchen and making myself a whiskey on the rocks, then I go back into my bedroom to get ready.

After finishing my makeup, I put on a long-sleeved stretchy shirt that covers my scars, but that also comes down and enhances my breasts and cleavage.  I then pull on a short black leather skirt and don't bother to put on panties.  I take my time spiking my short blonde hair and making it look messy but sexy.  When I'm done, I step into my black heels before going into the kitchen and pouring myself another drink which I down quickly.  I grab a beer from the fridge and my keys off the hall table as I leave, getting into my SUV and heading to The Indigo in the city.

Chapter Two

Raquel:

I leave his bed and make my way to the shower where I scrub myself clean.  I always feel so dirty and degraded after leaving his bed, but it was part of the territory.  I preferred to keep an all women clientele, but the boss Jerome, insisted that he was not a part of that stipulation.  He didn't care about me.  The only thing he cared about is whether I turned a profit, and I was his best girl, so I always did.

On some of my better nights, I could bring in up to twenty thousand.  On an average night, I made at least ten.  All his wealthier clients preferred my company, and I was spared from those with the kinkier tastes.  The new girls and the girls that were not in his favor got those gigs.  The BDSM clients were the worst.  I saw the aftermath of what those dates entailed, and I am grateful that I was always favored.

As I finish my shower, I thank the Gods that he didn't cum inside me.

That would be hard to explain to my "date" for tonight. Her name was Rose, an older client around sixty who had spent a majority of her life in the closet, and if our earlier dates were any indication, she would be spending a considerable amount of time with her face between my legs.

I think that's why he spared me this time, but I still felt violated after having his hands on and inside my body.

I walk out into the bedroom and begin getting ready when I hear him come up behind me.

"Three thousand - minimum," he says, his tone of voice forceful and cruel as he grabs the back of my hair by the nape of my neck and pulls roughly.

"Anything less than that and... well you know the consequences," he states as he runs his hand over several deep scars that run across the middle of my back.  That had only happened once and after I understood what the punishment for that entailed it had never happened again.

He reaches over to the dresser and pours a small amount of cocaine onto a mirror then makes fine lines with a razor.

"Here," he says handing me a rolled-up dollar bill.

"Two lines."

I do what he says as I feel the burn of the drug sting my nose.

"Good girl," he praises as he does the other two lines himself.

It wasn't always like this.

This thought sticks in my mind as I enter the enormous walk-in closet and choose a red sleeveless dress with matching high heels.  This lifestyle had started off so glamorous.  I could pick and choose my clients, and a majority of the profit went into my pocket.  I didn't even have to sleep with any of them if I didn't want to.

But then things changed. He became greedier and more violent. His fifteen percent soon became twenty and then fifty and finally seventy-five.  All the girls had a minimum quota to meet for the night. Some, like mine, were reasonable and easily attainable. Others were unfair and set with failure in mind. This was reserved strictly for girls that had fallen from his good graces, and they were beaten in ways that were not visible to their clients almost daily.

And now I was stuck in this cruel cycle of sex and violence, and even though I was treated better than the other girls, this was still no way to live.

I finish getting ready and look at myself in the mirror. One would never know the kind of life I lived by just looking at me. I didn’t look abused or exhausted or broken. And I thanked God that I at least still had that.

Chapter Three

Andrea:

As I take my seat at the bar, I order a forty-two oz. draft beer and a shot of tequila. My friend Samantha looks at me like I have lost my mind. We have been friends since meeting in the playground of St. Josephine’s Kindergarten, and she is like a sister to me. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say that our relationship changed after what happened before I left and what has happened since I returned from overseas.  It wasn’t strained so much as it has been distant, and at times she was clueless as to what to do about me and my often-reckless behavior.

"You might want to slow down there. Don't you have work in the morning?"

"It's an office job. And I already called out."

"Isn't that like the sixth time this month??"

"It is, and I don't care. Who the hell wants to sit behind a desk for the rest of their lives? I'm just biding my time until my arm is healed. And it's not like I need the money. The government gives me a lovely stipend for getting shot and hit with shrapnel. Plus, I still have most of the money from Lara’s life insurance policy and as a state employee that was pretty hefty."

I feel my heart crack as I say this, and I raise my glass, drinking a large amount, causing Samantha to sigh disappointedly.

"What you need to do is get your mouth off that beer bottle and between the legs of one of these hotties here."

"How about that one?" I ask pointing to a caramel skinned woman with an abundance of brown curls in a red dress at the end of the bar. She's is so stunning she makes my mouth water.

"No. No. You do NOT want that one."

"And why not? You know how much I love chocolate," I smirk.

"Yes, I do but..."

"But what?"

"I don't think you can afford her."

"She's a hooker?"

"Escort."

"Ok, how about that one over there with the nice tits..."

"Shit, that's Brenda!"

"Brenda? Stage five clinger Brenda?"

"The one. Stay here. I'm going to go hide."

I laugh as Samantha runs off, and I finish the rest of my drink.  As I do this, I continue to watch the curly haired brunette across the bar.  I just can't seem to take my eyes off her. I see her out of the corner of my eye walking towards me, and I look ahead pretending I don't see her. Putting my hand up I wave the bartender over and order another beer and another shot. As the bartender sets them down, I see and feel the brunette come up next to me.

"I could feel you eye fucking me all night," she whispers quietly into my ear causing me to shiver before standing up straight and smiling at me like she wants to have me for dinner.

"Just put it on my tab, Laura," she says before turning to me and putting her hand out. "Michelle. Michelle Adams. And you are?"

"Surprised by your boldness," I laugh shaking her hand.

"Was that too forward? My apologies if it was." She puts her hand on my shoulder and runs her fingertips down my arm as she says it.

"Actually, not at all. That was smooth. But not as smooth as me anticipating you coming over here and ordering you a shot,” I say with a wide smile which elicits a sexy, throaty laugh from her as I hand her a shot glass. “I'm Andrea. Andrea King. But everyone calls me Andy."

"Thank you! Nice to meet you, Andy,” she says as we tap glasses and throw our shots back. “What brings you here?"

"I'm here with my friend Samantha who ran off because she's hiding from her ex. So now I'm just sitting here drinking alone, you know, trying to dull the pain," I say half joking but mostly serious.

"And what kind of pain are you talking about Miss King?"

"It's a long story. So, what brings you here?"

"Well, I was supposed to meet someone here at ten, but my date canceled on me."

"Your date?"

"Yes, my date."

"So, you're looking for a new date?"

"I'm always looking."

"How much?" I asked glancing over at Samantha who has found herself a beautiful blonde that she is grinding with on the dance floor.

"How much for what?" she asks feigning innocence.

"I know what you do Miss Adams so let's not beat around the figurative and literal bush...  how much?" I bring my glass to my lips and drink a good portion.

"Well, that depends on what you want to do."

I lean close to her and whisper in her ear, "Everything.  I want to do everything."

"Two thousand," she answers pulling back and looking me in the eye.

"And how much for the night?"

"Thirty-five hundred."

"Deal.  You want to get out of here?"

"Lead the way."

Chapter Four

Raquel:

After stopping at an ATM, I take her to the suite I have reserved at the Hilton San Diego Bayfront. Jerome didn't run a two-star motel gig. He may not have treated his girls with class, but he made sure that his clients got the star treatment. It was also helpful that the owner of this franchise was one of his best customers that preferred things of the kinkier variety that his wife refused to provide, and Jerome used that as leverage to get a flat weekly rate.

I open the door, and it leads us into the parlor area. Andy walks over next to the sofa and looks around as I lock the door behind us. I can’t help but to watch the way her hips sway, taking in how smooth the back of her skirt is, and I feel myself start to get wet at the idea that she probably wasn’t wearing any panties. I have to remind myself to keep it together. She’s just a client. But good God, she was a sexy one.

"Do you want a drink?"

"Whiskey?" she asks.

"Baby, that's all I drink. Straight up or on the rocks?"

"Honey there is nothing straight about me."

"Now that's what I like to hear. I also have a little coke if you like. Would you like a bump?"

"Sure," she says as she sits down.

I bring her drink over to her then go into the bedroom to get Jerome's coke. He'd kill me if he knew I was doing this, but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Or me.

I walk over to her and kick my heels off before taking her drink and putting it on the table then hiking my skirt up and straddling her. Her hands immediately go to my ass and pull me closer to her. I take the bottle of coke and unscrew the cap as she hooks her fingers into the top of my dress and pulls it down a little roughly, ripping the material, so that my tits are exposed. She holds my ass with one hand, pushing me tightly against her, as she begins flicking my nipples back and forth with the tip of her tongue. I grind my hips against her as she pushes them together and alternates back and forth between sucking them hard, grazing them with her teeth, and pulling almost my whole breast into her mouth.

“You have gorgeous tits,” she says sliding one nipple between her teeth and biting down gently. I hiss in pain and pleasure as I carefully pour a small amount of coke on the top of my tits and then give her the okay with my eyes. She leans forward burying her face as she snorts the drug off me as I move my hands to either side of her face and pull her up to look at me.

"What do you want?" I ask.

Her hands creep up along the side of my thighs up towards my hips, and she stares at me while she thinks.

"I want to fuck you,” she says pulling my nipple into her mouth, and twirling it around with her tongue. “But I won’t kiss you. On the mouth at least."

"Well, that definitely can be arranged."

"Do you have a strap on?,” her words muffled as she asks between sucks of my other nipple. “The one with two dildos?"

"That's my favorite,” I say, my words low and husky. “And the one I have? Has an extra little surprise," she smiles.

"I only have one stipulation though besides no kissing: I want to leave my shirt on."

"For thirty-five hundred, baby you can do whatever you want," I say as I take her hand and lead her towards the bedroom.

Chapter Five

Andrea:

I put my drink on the dresser as she goes in the closet and takes out a strap on that has a six-inch toy on one side and a smaller one on the other side. She hands it to me along with a small bottle of lube. She hikes her skirt up to her waist and pulls her panties down before sitting on the bed and handing me the strap-on.

"Do you want to be on top?" she asks.

"No more talking.  Not another word," I say unzipping the side of my skirt and pulling it down.

"Shouldn't we... -"

I put my hand roughly over her mouth before she can say anything else, and just shake my head no. Slowly I move my hand off her mouth rubbing across her bottom lip with my thumb as she darts her tongue out to lick it. I sigh before I step back and uncap the bottle of lube. I start with the smaller side and smile as I realize that it has a vibrator in it.

“Now that’s a pleasant surprise,” I husk as I lower it between my legs and slowly insert it inside myself before fixing the straps on the side. I have not had sex, not even masturbated since I returned home six months ago, and the sensation is a little overwhelming. I give the lube to her and watch her coat the other end of the toy.

Pushing her onto her back, I spread her legs open and place her right ankle on my shoulder. Looking down, I can feel myself becoming wetter as I look at her pussy completely open to me. I reach between us and graze between her lips softly with my knuckle stimulating her to the point she begins to arch up against me. I pull my hand away, and I hear her sigh quietly in disappointment, most likely something she’s trained herself to do as a means of survival. But I just take a second to lick my fingers then resume touching her, dipping down into her opening to get more moisture, than circling her clit repeatedly until she lets herself go as quietly as possible.

I smile down at her in satisfaction as she reaches between us and switches the vibrator on, causing me to hiss out loudly in pleasure. Carefully, I lean down and slowly push the toy into her.  I can feel that she's tight so I go slow, but once it's in all the way I pull back and push back in hard.  With every hard thrust, she gasps as I hold myself up with my good arm and slide into her over and over. Sweat drips down the side of my face, and my breathing becomes ragged as she tries to pull me closer to her, but I hold back.

I’m conflicted about how I’m feeling as we do this. On one hand, I want this to be as impersonal as possible. But on the other I want to pleasure her too. I get the impression that this doesn’t happen often with her other clients, and I don’t want to be like them.

As I continue to fuck her our eyes lock and I can't look away.

Harder and harder I rock against her, angling myself to hit her clit as she pushes up against me until she grabs the back of my neck and I stop resisting letting her pull me down against her as she orgasms. My good arm gives out, and I lean my forehead against hers as I finish right behind her, burying my head in her neck. Her hands going to the back of my head, smoothing my hair.

Suddenly I get myself together and pull out of her, turning the vibrator off.

I turn my back as I unbuckle the strap-on and put it on the dresser and I keep my back to her as I pull my skirt back on.

"What happened to your arm? Do you mind me asking?"

I ignore her question as I pull an envelope out of my purse and throw it on the dresser next to the strap-on.

"Same time next week," I say as I turn around and finally look at her. She only nods as I turn and leave.

Chapter Six

Raquel:

I'm not quite sure what just happened. I never allow myself to orgasm with my clients. My number one rule is to fake it. But my attraction to this woman is beyond words. Not only did she manage to make me cum once, but twice. I can’t remember the last time I orgasmed so hard never mind multiple times. She wants to meet at the same time next week. And I smile as it finally gives me something to look forward to.

Chapter Seven

Andrea:

Several weeks pass, and it is now routine for us to meet every Wednesday, and I find us getting more intimate, more passionate, every time we meet.

I have finally taken my shirt off in front of her, and while I see her looking at my scars, she doesn't ask. I allow her hands now to roam over my chest, to cup my breasts, and touch my nipples. But I won't kiss her even though I want to, and I won't allow her to touch between my legs.  I haven't been with anyone like that since Lara, and I wasn't ready for that yet.

I loved fucking her though. I always feel like I have no control over anything in my life but topping her makes me feel like I do. And even though we are mostly strangers and barely speak, I like making her feel good. I get the sense that she doesn't get that too much in her own life.

I pull up to my therapist’s office downtown. We meet every Thursday at two, and I feel like the process is futile. I'm not sure what they want from me other than to "talk about my pain" when all I wanted to do was forget it.

I take a seat in Dr. Lawrence's office and wait to be called in. I look around the office and note how eerily quiet it is. I hate quiet. I feel my heart rate increase. In Afghanistan quiet meant danger. I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead, and I clench my hands together to try and stop the tremors. But just like after the nightmares they don't want to leave.

"Andrea King?"

I hear my name, but I can't react. My eyes are darting around the room, and my heart feels like it's beating out of my chest.

"Doctor!" I hear someone call.

And then everything goes black.

***

"How are you feeling Andy?"

My eyes are open, but it’s like I just woke up. I'm lying on the sofa, and I laugh at the cliché.

"Feeling better I see. But we can reschedule if you're not feeling up to it."

"No, it's okay Doc. Just give me a second," I say as I sit up. He pours me a glass of water and hands it to me.

"So how long has this been going on?"

"What?"

"The panic attacks?"

"Is that what those are called?  I thought I was just getting over excited about coming here and laying my soul bare," I say shortly as I take a sip of my water.

"Well, I see your sarcasm is intact. But seriously, how long?"

"About six months."

"And you didn't think it was important to tell me?"

"They've always happened at home. Usually after a nightmare."

"Until now. What would you have done if you were driving and this happened?"

"What would I have done, Doc?  I would have crashed is what I would have done," I laugh.

"This is no time for jokes Andrea."

"Andrea?  What are you, my mom?"

"No, but I am your doctor. And I'm concerned about you. I'd like to prescribe you something for the anxiety. Do you think that would help?"

"Whatever you think, Doctor."

"No, it's not what I think. It's what you think."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever."

"And how are you sleeping?"

"About three, maybe four hours a night," I lied.

"And you're finding that adequate?  If not, I can prescribe you something for that too.  Maybe a heavier narcotic to help you sleep at night?"

"No, I'm good."

"Okay. So, what do you want to talk about this week?  Are you ready to talk about anything before Afghanistan yet?"

I feel the anger rise in my chest.

"No."

"Andy, - "

"No. I mean it."  And I say it in a way that he knows I am dead serious.

"Well, you know I have to ask."

I cut my eyes at him and glare.  This is NOT something I want to talk about, and he should know better.

"So, you don't want to talk about what happened before Afghanistan, and you don't want to talk about what happened in Afghanistan.  What do you want to talk about?"

"Have you ever seen the movie Black Hawk Down?" I ask after a very long silence.

"Of course I have.  I was stationed in Somalia right before that incident."

"So, you know the scene where the guy's femoral artery is severed, and they try everything to stop the bleeding, and it snaps up into his leg, and they have to dig and try to pull it back down?", I ask as I stare straight ahead.  He doesn't respond, but I can see out of the corner of my eye that he is nodding.

"Well, we had two guys that it happened to, and as the only medic I had a hand in each of these guys legs."

"That's quite a feat considering you had been shot."

"Adrenaline is a bad bitch," I say quietly.  "But because of the gunshot, I could only hold on to one artery and just watch the other guy bleed to death all over me and the gurney.  It didn't really matter much though.  The one I could help ended up dying just as messily.  Just a few minutes later.  Can you imagine how much blood that is, Doc?"

"I can.  The femoral artery is the second largest artery in the human body and the main arterial supply to the lower limb.  I imagine once severed it wouldn't take long for one to bleed out."

"Four minutes.  It takes four minutes for the human body to bleed to death once the femoral artery is severed.  And when the wound is too high to apply a tourniquet, and direct pressure is inadequate all you can do is watch them die."

"You've seen a lot it seems."

"So it seems.  Time up doctor.  Same time next week."

"Same time next week.  Stop by my secretary for your prescription and see if that helps you."

"Will do."

Chapter Eight

Raquel:

My life has become such a dark place.  Day in and day out I go through the motions like a robot.  Jerome says that customers have been claiming that I'm not as "animated" as I have been in the past and threatens me.  In the past, his threats would have scared me.  But to be honest, I'm at a point where I just wish he would follow through.  The only light in my life is Wednesday when I get to see her.  I get to feel her.  And that's the only thing besides alcohol and drugs that get me through.  I numb myself before each client with copious amounts of cocaine and vodka so that I don't have to feel them touching my body or care what I have to do to them.  It's like it's not even me.

My last client of the night rolls off me, and I'm coated with their sweat and bodily secretions.  I feel dirty and cover my face with my arms.  She's a regular customer, so there's nothing new about our "date," but I just can't pretend that I enjoy this anymore, not that I ever really did, but I must admit that I did enjoy the power.  But not anymore.  I can't pretend that I'm not just being used.

"Fifteen hundred, right?" she says.

"Just leave it on the dresser."

"Is everything okay, Sasha?"

That’s the name she wanted to call me.

"Yeah.  It's fine.  I'm just tired."

They leave, and I turn on my side, curling myself in a tight ball as I start to cry.

Wednesday Night

I'm in the middle of the bed on all fours, and she is kneeling behind me thrusting into me hard.  I can tell she's getting close because she has started to grip the skin by my sides.  I love that I know her like that.  It makes me feel in control.  Suddenly she reaches down between my legs and begins rubbing and pinching my sensitive clit causing me to gasp.  She does it differently every time, and it feels so good every time. Her fingers are like pure magic as they rub me in tight circles causing my breathing to hitch as I reach back and grab her ass, pushing her harder into me. She continues fucking me until we both orgasm hard, and when we are done, I lay flat on my stomach in the middle of the bed with her still on top of me, her hips pulsing against me.  I get the feeling that neither of us wants to move.  I feel her lightly kiss my shoulder before she pulls out of me and rolls over.  It seems insignificant, but at the same time, it means everything to me.

She lies on her back and unstraps the harness, tossing it to the side, before folding her arms over her face and closing her eyes. She looks exhausted.  I turn my head and just watch her.  The puckered scar that rises and falls with her chest, the contractions of her toned stomach, her perfect breasts, her smooth mound, her muscular thighs... I take it all in.  We don't even speak.  All we do is fuck, but right now she is the only light in my dark life.  I watch her as her body begins to relax, and it doesn't take long for her to drift off to sleep.  This is not typical for her.  She always pays for the entire night, but she never stays the whole night. But I can't say that I'd be mad if she ever did.  I decide to just let her rest and go to take a shower.  I'm reluctant to wash her off me, but my body is a little sore, so the hot water will do me good.

***

I step out of the shower and wrap myself in two towels:  one for my hair and one for my body.  As I reach up to wipe the steam off the bathroom mirror, I hear screaming.  I run into the bedroom to see her thrashing around, screaming in terror.

"No!  No!  No!"

I sit on the bed and try to shake her awake, but the thrashing continues until finally, she awakes with a huge gasp.  She's confused and frightened, and I pull her into my arms to comfort her.

"It's okay.  You're alright.  I got you.  You're safe," I say soothingly as I hold her head to my chest and stroke her hair.

She wraps her arms around my waist squeezing me hard as she gasps for air.  It takes several seconds for her to remember where she is and when she does she is finally able to calm down long enough to catch her breath.  After several minutes, she softly pushes me away and lays back down on the bed with one arm over her forehead.  I stand up next to the bed and move in front of the dresser.

"Do you want to talk about it?", I ask gently.

She closes her eyes, and single tears fall from the corners of her eyes.  I lean against the dresser, and we stay like that in complete silence as her tears quietly fall.

And then, finally, she speaks.

"I uh, I have seen some really fucked up shit.  Like I'm guessing you have too.  But I've seen some really evil things."

I move to the edge of the bed and sit next to her but leave enough distance so that I don't feel like I'm crowding her.  She sits up and leans back against the pillows.

"Before I went to Afghanistan I was a weekend warrior in the Reserves.  By trade, I was an EMT.  Five months before I was to be deployed my girlfriend at the time, Lara, was in a head-on collision with a tractor-trailer.  Our son, my son - Connor, was in the car."

I put my hand over my mouth to keep myself from gasping out loud.

"I was the first on the scene.  Lara, she was already dead, but Connor...  Connor held on for thirty-six hours after."

She stares straight ahead as she says this almost emotionlessly.  I imagine after telling this story so many times that's what happens.  I comfortingly put my hand on her thigh and softly rub the skin.  I don't know what else to do.

"But the nightmares... the nightmares are the worst part.  It always starts with his beautiful smiling face.  And it always ends with an explosion.  Three of them.  It intermixes with the shit I saw in Afghanistan.  And neither of them is pretty."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"You can keep fucking me.  Same time next week?"

"Same time next week."

She finally looks me in the eye, and her eyes are still wet with tears, but she manages to give me a small smile.  Then, leaning forward, she gives me a long kiss on the cheek before getting up and getting dressed.

I watch her every move, and as she puts the envelope on the nightstand, I already miss her before she is even gone.

Chapter Nine

Andrea:

It's Friday night. I'm sitting on my couch, sipping a gin and tonic and staring straight ahead, as I listen to Samantha ramble on and on.

"Come on Andy!  You need to get out there!  And if I'm being honest?  You need to get laid!"

I turn my head and wince in disgust at her words.

"Really?"

"Yes!  Really!"  She sits down next to me and lowers her voice and says, "Look, I know you're still not over Lara. No one would ever expect you to be. But you can't just sit and allow yourself to get swallowed up by this darkness. You need to at least try and find some light."

I laugh slightly at her mention of light. Little did she know I had already found some. But if she knew what, or who, I was doing she would just accuse me of being self-destructive. Maybe I was. But it was what was keeping me feeling like I was still alive.

"Okay. Fine," I finally say mainly just to shut her up.

She squeals in my ear, and I pull away from her cringing, but that just makes her squeal louder.

"You are just going to LOVE Amelia!  She is just a doll!  And she's exactly your type!"

And she is. We meet at Samantha's place on Saturday.

"Hello, I'm Amelia."

Her voice is like silk, low and sultry. She has mocha skin, an athletic build, and gorgeous round tits - my three weaknesses.  But I have to admit - there is no spark.  Not even a little bit.

We have some drinks before heading out and then pile into a corner table at The Indigo.  There's six of us - my friend Samantha, her ex-Brenda who she reconnected with the night I met Michelle, and my buddy Isaac and his boyfriend Gary.  They are loud, and ruckus, and I try to play along, but this is just not my scene.  I try to drink to keep up, but even that is not helping.  I can't stop thinking about her.  Everything about this place reminds me of her, and while Samantha keeps trying to set me up for a one night stand my heart is just not into it.  Amelia keeps touching me, and I'm polite and cordial, but she is drunk at this point and doesn't get my disinterest.

"Hey, my arm is feeling pretty lousy.  I think I'm just going to head home!"

"Are you sure?" Samantha says nodding over to Amelia.  "Aren't you having a good time?"  She winks and nods at me implying that I'm going to get laid, and I try to pretend I'm disappointed.

"I'm having a great time, but it's just ..."  my attention is drawn to the front door.

There she is.  Dressed in a similar red dress the night I met her.  I have never seen her here other than that night.  And I don't believe in coincidences.  But right behind her is a gorgeous blonde that is clinging to her arm.  A client?  Suddenly I am so jealous that I can't see straight.  I knew what her job was.  I mean I paid her myself.  But to see her with someone else?  It made my stomach burn.

"Andy?"

I sit back down.  "What?"

"You said that you were having a great time, it's just... and then you stopped."

"It's just I need another drink!  Who wants to go to the bar?"

Amelia practically jumps out of her seat and into my arms.  I'm thankful that her drunk ass is at least aware not to jump on my left side.

"Anyone else?"  Everyone shakes their head no, and we make our way to the bar.  Michelle is sitting at the far end with the blonde facing her.  They are talking close, and the blonde keeps putting her hands all over her.  I don't like it.  But I have no claim to her.  I'm just her client.

"Whiskey on the rocks, and a Tequila Sunrise," I order.  Amelia squeezes in next to me and wraps her arms around my waist.

"You are sexy as fuck," she almost slurs.

"Thank you," I reply leaning back a little.

"I would love to fuck you," she spit-whispers into my ear.

"Thank you," I answer pulling away slightly, and she just giggles like I just said the sexiest thing ever to her.

The bartender brings our drinks, and Amelia wants to dance.  I glance over to Michelle and see her engrossed in her date, so I chug my drink and head out to the dance floor.

Chapter Ten

Raquel:

I finally get a night to myself.  Jerome is out of town.  He still wants me to see clients, but I just can't tonight.  He's not going to be happy, but at the moment I just don't care.  I reach out to my friend Jenna, and we head out to The Indigo.  We used to be so close, but with everything going on in my life I've kept her at a distance.  I'm ashamed of what she would think if she knew what I had allowed myself to get involved in.  I try to keep our night as normal as possible, making up what I've been up to, even claiming to be engaged and when I described the lucky lady it's Andy.  I don't even know this woman outside of the bedroom, but I feel so connected to her.

As I'm listening to Jenna's twelfth story about her sex life with her partner my eyes glance out on the dance floor and I see her.  But she's with someone else.

She never mentioned a girlfriend.  She never really said anything really.  She didn’t have to.  She owed me nothing.  So why did this bother me so much?

"Earth to Raquel!  You okay Raquel!"

"Yeah, I'm sorry.  I'm good.  What were you saying?"

"I was just saying that Evelyn called, and Josie is sick.  I'm going to have to take a rain check on our night out."

"Aww, I'm sorry.  I was really looking forward to this!"

"Me too!"

"Next time let's not let three years pass in between our get-togethers!"

"You got it!"

She kisses my cheek and gives me a big hug before she leaves, and I sit at the bar all alone.

Chapter Eleven

Andrea:

I see her "friend" leave and notice that she is sitting at the bar now all alone.  Amelia is really up on me, and I'm trying to keep up, but she's too sloppy.  Suddenly, she looks at me funny and then says "Oh my God" as she runs off towards the ladies’ room.

I walk back over to the table and take Samantha's drink as I say "You might want to go check on her.  I think she's throwing up."  She and Brenda leave, and I sit at the table, alone.

Ten minutes later, Samantha comes back without Brenda and without Amelia.

"She needs to go home, STAT.  You coming with?"

"No, I think I'm going to hang out here for a while."

"But you don't have a car..."

"I can always take an Uber."

"Be safe.  Take care of yourself.  Call me when you're home?"

"I will."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She kisses my cheek sloppily as she hurries out to clean up my would-be date.  I finish my drink and make my way to the bar pretending I don't see her.  But then, just like the night we met, I feel her come up beside me.  The bartender comes over, and I order another whiskey.

"Put it on my tab," that familiar voice says again.

"I definitely wasn't eye fucking you tonight," I laugh.

She laughs back and orders herself a vodka tonic.

"I've never seen you in here on a Friday before," I say absentmindedly stirring my drink.

"I was with my friend."

"I saw that."

The bartender brings her drink, and we stand facing each other.

"So, is it different for a Friday night or does the rate stay the same?"

"It's different."

"How much?"

"I'm not working, so it's free."

"You want to get out of here?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

Chapter Twelve

Raquel:

My insides are shaking as we walk up to her front door.  I try to tell myself that this will be like all the other times we've been together.  Nothing has changed.  So why did it feel so different?

I shake the thought from my head.  I can't allow myself to make assumptions.  You always let the client lead, and even though she wasn't paying me this time, it didn't mean she was looking for anything more than our usual fuck.

She unlocks the front door, and I follow her inside, but as soon as the door shuts, she is pushing me up against it.  She notices that I'm shaking.  There's nothing I can do to hide it.

"Do I make you nervous?" she asks as she presses her lower body into mine.

I say the words no in my head, but the words don't seem to want to come out of my mouth, so I just shake my head.

"Are you sure?" she asks running her fingers down the side of my face.

I shut my eyes as I feel myself quiver.

"I think I do," she says in a near whisper as she moves her mouth less than an inch from mine.  We stay like that.  Neither one of us wanting to be the first to move.  I know it won't be me.

Always let the client lead I repeat in my head.

I cannot deviate from that rule.

It's my best mode of survival.

She leans closer, and our lips are barely brushing together.  I can feel her breath on me.

"I want to fuck you."  She's so close to me that I can feel her words vibrate on my lips.

"I know," I finally manage to get out.

"No.  I don't think you understand.  I want to fuck you...  with my mouth."

I swallow hard and press my palms against the door on either side of me.

"Can I fuck you too?"

"I haven't decided yet."  She grabs the front of my dress and pulls me towards her bedroom at the end of the hallway off the living room.

She turns on the light and lets go of my dress as we enter the room, and then sits on the end of the bed.

"Strip," she demands.

"You're pretty bossy for someone that's not paying me," I say boldly.

"Fine.  Strip.  Please."

"I would have done it anyway," I say slowly as I pull my arms out of my dress.  I'm not wearing a bra or panties, so it doesn't take me long to get naked.

"You can leave the heels on," she smirks.

"What do you want?" I ask as she looks me up and down, licking her lips.

"You.  On my face."

She reaches out for my hands and pulls me to her as she starts to lean back.  I stop her and reach for her shirt, but she puts her hands on mine stopping me.

"If I'm going to be naked it's only fair that you are too."

She looks at me for a long while and then gives in and allows me to strip her.  As I pull her skirt off, she finally lays back and pulls me over her on the bed.  I straddle her waist then move up carefully until I'm positioned above her face.

Chapter Thirteen

Andrea:

I inhale deeply as she hovers over my face.  Her smell is intoxicating.  I've done everything I can to make these encounters as impersonal as possible, but I just can't anymore.  I need to feel connected to someone even if only for a little while.  I thought just fucking would do that, and while it did help on some level, I just needed more.  I needed this intimacy even if it was with someone I barely knew because despite the fact we were practically strangers I honestly felt connected to her.

Maybe it was our fucked-up lives. Perhaps it was the insanely passionate sex. Maybe it was just because we were two lonely souls. But whatever it was it made me feel alive.

I pull her down to my mouth and lick her.  She tastes just as delicious as I imagined, so I continue to lick her over and over until she begins riding my face, and then I suck her.  This makes her crazy, and she holds my hair on the top of my head as she grinds her pussy on me.  As I continue to suck her hardened flesh, I feel her hand suddenly between my legs and I completely freeze up.  I pull my mouth from her and stare at her wide-eyed as I reach down and grab her hand with mine, stopping her.  She's breathing hard, and we just stare at each other for what seems like an hour.  Finally, her eyes soften, and she moves her hand over mine, and she guides it down to my pussy where she works my own fingers over me. This allows me to relax and resume sucking as we take our time slowly working each other to orgasm.

When we are done, she eases herself down my body instead of off, and works one of her legs between mine as she rests her head on my chest.  We lay in silence, breathing heavily, for what feels like an eternity until she finally interrupts the quiet.

"My name isn't Michelle," she says slowly.  "It's Raquel.  Raquel Adams."

And as I rub her back and hair gently, we both drift off to sleep.

Chapter Fourteen

Andrea:

I wake up quietly for once.  It's three AM, but it's the first time in a long time that I haven't woken up scared or in a panic and the first time I have slept for more than three hours straight.  She's next to me on her side, with her hands under her cheek, facing me.

I turn on my side and gently touch her cheek. She is so God damn beautiful. But even in her sleep, I can sense her sadness. I wish I knew what kind of life she really wanted because I had a feeling this one wasn't it.

I move my hand down to her shoulder and her chest and back up again. Her skin is so soft I can't stop touching it. I lean forward just the slightest bit, and her mouth is just mere inches from mine, close enough so I can feel her warm breath. I want to kiss her so much it hurts.  I'm not quite sure why I'm so hesitant. The "no kissing" rule had been my idea, but I guess I didn't really know how she felt about it because I never really gave her a choice.

She is sleeping, even snoring softly. She wouldn't even know if I...  slowly I lean forward and press my lips against hers. It's not even really a kiss because she is not responding, but I enjoy the sensation of her soft, supple lips pressed against mine.  Suddenly her eyes snap open, and she is looking at me with fear as she pulls back quickly.

"Why did you do that?" she asks quickly.

"I was just - ..."

She gets out of the bed and starts looking for her clothes.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"Raquel I - ..."

"Don't call me that!  Don't ever call me that again!"

She is panicking as she quickly finishes dressing.

"Look, you don't have to leave.  It's three AM.  Just stay.  Please?"

"I have to go," she says dismissively as she throws her purse strap over her shoulder.

I get out of bed and grab her arm, stopping her, turning her to face me.

"Will I see you on Wednesday?"

I look at her, my eyes pleading.  I see her eyes soften, just a bit.  But she closes her eyes and sighs before pulling away and leaving without a response.

"Fuck," I say as I bang my fist down on the dresser.

The next morning, I make an emergency appointment with my therapist.  It's a Saturday, so it costs me double, but I need to talk to someone.

"So, what brings you here today Miss King?  It's not an easy task to get you in here when you're scheduled so I'm curious as to why you'd come when you're not."

"I'm uh, - seeing someone.  Well, I was.  I am.  I'm not sure."

"Well, what do you mean you're not sure?"

"I uh... umm... I don't know.  We're screwing, but we don't talk.  And I uh, kissed her and she kind of freaked out on me."

"So, you're having sex, but you don't talk.  And kissing scared her?"

"It's complicated," I say as I run my hands through my short, messy hair.

"Well, I think it's good you're at least seeing someone.  It wasn't that long ago that you said you'd never be with anyone else after Lara."

"This is different, Doc."

"How so?"

I look at him trying to figure out how to explain what I've been doing the last few weeks, but I can't find the words that don't me look like I'm crazy and self-destructive.

"It's complicated."

"You've said that twice now.  What does that mean?"

"It means...   it's complicated."

"I guess so.  So why did you come here today?  What did you want to talk about besides just telling me how complicated it is?"

I fold my arms across my chest and cross my legs as I begin to bounce my top leg back and forth.  It's what I do when I'm nervous.  I absentmindedly start to chew my thumbnail as I look out the window and stare for a long time.

"Am I broken, Doc?" I ask finally turning my head to look at him.

"What do you mean by broken Andy?"

"Am I ever going to get better?  Will I ever feel better?  Will I ever be...  normal?"  I feel the tears begin to well in my eyes, but I do everything in my power to keep them from falling.

"First of all Andy, the word "normal" is subjective.  What is normal besides society's definition of it?  We all have our issues and problems, but it doesn't mean that we're broken or abnormal.  So, with that being said, no.  You are not broken.  You're just in pain.  In a very short amount of time, you've been through more tragedy than any one person should have to endure in a lifetime.  You lost your son and your girlfriend in a senseless tragedy.  You witnessed such extreme horrors in Afghanistan.  You were shot and possibly permanently disabled.  I'd be more worried if you weren't hurting."

"While I appreciate the sentiment Doc I have to ask you:  what normal person do you know falls in love with a hooker?  I'm sorry, not a hooker...  escort.  Stop looking at me like that."

"Looking at you like what?'

"Like you're judging me.  Like I don't know what I'm doing is self-destructive.  I know it is.  Believe me."

"I do believe you, and I'm not judging you.  That's not my job.  We all have different ways that we cope with stress.  I play tennis on the weekends, but other people might exercise in different ways.  They say running is the best therapy.  But other people might eat or do drugs or consume alcohol or yes, even use sex.  But any of those things in excess are unhealthy even exercise.  It's up to you to decide if it's hurting you.  Is it?"

I merely shake my head no.

"Okay, that's a good thing.  And I do have to say that I'm curious about your choice of words.  You said that you were in love with her?"

"I don't fucking know, Doc.  I don't even know her.  Hell, I'm paying her to be with me!  She's probably faking it.  But I'll tell you it sure doesn't feel like she's faking it.  And the last time we were together?  It's wasn't about money.  We just have this... energy.  An unspoken connection.  Maybe it's just physical.  Maybe I'm just desperate to feel something positive again.  Who knows?  But what I do know is that I have not felt anything but hurt and pain and sadness since... well since Lara and Connor died.  But with her?  I just feel alive.  Am I crazy, Doc?"

This time I can't fight the tears as they start to just drip down my cheeks.

"No.  You're definitely not crazy Andrea.  It sounds to me...  like you actually might be healing."

"You called me Andrea," I laugh.

"Well that's your name isn't it?"

"Thanks, Doc."

"You're very welcome.  I'd still like to see you Thursday if you're up to it."

"I'll be there."

***

When I leave the office, I am still an emotional mess.  I get to my car and just rest my head on the steering wheel as I sob.  It takes me several minutes to get myself together.  I pull down the visor to try and clean my face as best I can, but it is still splotchy, and my eyes are bloodshot and red.  I look through my purse for a tissue when my phone rings.

It's Raquel.

"Hello?" I answer, but there's nothing but silence on the other end.

"Raquel?"  More silence.  I start to feel panic as I hear noise in the background but can't quite make out what it is.  Then my heart sinks as I realize that it's crying.  More like painful whimpering.

"Raquel?  Sweetie?  Are you okay?" I ask urgently.

"Nothing in life is free, bitch."  It's a man's voice.  Low, gravelly, threatening.

"Who is this?"

"None of your fucking business.  But don't worry about your tab.  Lena's going to do a great job of working it off," he grunts menacingly.  And then I hear it.  A bloodcurdling painful, scream just as the phone cuts off.

"Hello?  Hello?  You son of a bitch!!"

I quickly get out of the car and walk around to the trunk where I open the tire well.  I pull out the metal case that I keep my gun in and take it, along with two clips of bullets.  Hurrying now I get back in the car and head to the hotel where I would meet Raquel on Wednesdays.  I have no idea if that's where she is, but it's a start.

Chapter Fifteen

Earlier that night…

Raquel:

I can't believe she did that. Why did she have to make it personal? I was okay with just fucking her, but I couldn’t afford for lines to blur even if I wanted them too. I guess it was my fault for leading her on. I should have just charged her for the night and then things wouldn't have gotten so messy. But it didn't feel right. Even though I barely knew her, she didn't feel like a client. She felt like something more. And I wanted her so I couldn't take her money in good conscience.

"Fuck," I mutter as I open my hotel door.

"Fuck. Fuck is what you do for a living my queen."

His voice sent chills down my spine as he spoke slowly with an eerie calmness.

"Jerome! Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me! I thought you were out of town?" I ask trying to seem unaffected by his quiet menace. He's tall with big muscular arms, pale skin, and covered in tattoos.  His features would be handsome if he didn't have a cruel streak a mile long.  He sits on my recliner with his large hands on his thighs, and he has a smirk on his face that makes my blood run cold.

"Out of town? I was out of town. That was until I got a call from a client that was quite upset that ‘Gypsy’ didn't show."

"Fuck. I forgot, Jerome. I swear."

"That's okay, baby. We all make mistakes sometimes."

He gets up and walks over to me and touches his hand to my cheek. I try to smile and pretend that I'm not afraid of him.

"But that was a ten-thousand dollar fucking mistake, Raquel."

He grabs me by my hair on the back of my head and yanks me down.

"Now tell me: where in the fuck were you tonight?"

"I was out. With a friend. I swear to God, Jerome!"

My eyes burn with tears from the pain, but I refuse to let him see me cry.

"What friend?"

"Jenna!"

"And who told you to go out?  What did I tell you before I left?"

"I didn't think it was a big deal.  You let me before."

"You're right, " he says loosening his grip on my hair.  "But that's not what I asked you.  I asked you what the fuck did I tell you before I left?"  He grabs my hair and wraps it around his fist, yanking hard.

"I'm sorry Jerry!" I use his nickname to remind him how close we are.  That I am his favorite.

"I fucking asked you a question?"

But it has no effect on him, and he tightens his grip.

"I'm sorry Jerome!  I just - ... "

"You just what?  You're a fucking liar, Lena.  Travis saw you leave with that blonde bitch you've been meeting with on Wednesdays.  How much did you charge her?  You making money on the side and not sharing with me?  After all that I've done for you?  You know what the consequences for that are Raquel?"

He pulls a knife from his back pocket and holds it next to my cheek, and I wince as it bites into my skin.

"What I should do is cut your fucking tongue out for lying to me.  But that's much too valuable to me... "

"I swear to God Jerome, I'm not pocketing any money on the side!  I'm not!"

"So, you're just giving my pussy away then?" he asks as he slams the knife down on the dresser and drags me across the room.  "That’s MY pussy!  And let me tell you:  my pussy is NEVER free!"

The first punch is to my stomach.  I try to double over but can't because of his grip on my hair.  Instead, I just choke on the bile that rises from my stomach into the back of my throat and gasp for air.  The next one is to my cheek, and I feel the pain explode into my eyes, and then everything goes black.

Chapter Sixteen

Andrea:

I take the elevator to the fifth floor, and I can see the door to her suite is open just a little bit.  I pull out my gun and hold it inside of my jacket as I push the door open with my foot.  The living area is empty, but it looks like there was a struggle.  I walk down the hall to the bedroom, and the door is open.  There is a girl, about eighteen, standing by the dresser snorting coke.

“Hey!” I yell.

She looks up with white powder all over her upper lip and nose with a smear of blood coming from her left nostril.

“Where is Raquel?” I demand.

She stares at me blankly then leans down to blow another line.  I walk over and grab her by the arm, forcing her to look at me.

“I said where is Raquel?!?”

I find myself screaming now, and the girl’s nonreaction is infuriating.

“Check the alley.  Jerome and his buddies put her out with the rest of the trash.”

I let go of her and quickly turn to leave.

“Hey,” she shouts at me.  “They were going to gang rape her.  She’s lucky they killed her instead.”

Panic immediately sets in as I take off running down the hallway towards the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.  I take the stairs two at a time and race to the side of the building where the alley is located.

“Raquel?  Raquel?” I call frantically.  Climbing up the side of the dumpster I flip the lid open and immediately jump in when I see her.  She’s covered in blood, and after checking for a pulse, I’m relieved when I find one even if it is very weak.  But I can’t assess her accurately in here.  I open the side slot of the dumpster and then position her so that I can pull her out easier.

I slip my t-shirt off, leaving me in my tank top, and use it to put pressure on the wound on her face.  She’s unconscious, but that seems to be the source of most of the blood.  I take my phone out of my pocket and dial 911 and pray that I got to her in time.

***

I stand in the hospital hallway pacing.  Raquel is in bad shape, but she is stable.  I’m waiting for my sponsor Mike, not because I needed him right now, but because he was also a cop.

“You call, I answer.  You see how a phone works now right?”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, but I don’t have time for that shit right now Mike.  Please.”

“Okay, sorry but you really should make time.  You still sober?”

“Mike... “

“Okay fine.  But we’re talking later.  What do we have here?” he asks nodding towards the door.

“Her name is Raquel.  She’s an escort.  Her “pimp”?   I don’t know if that’s what an escort’s boss is called... whatever.  Mike... he left her in the dumpster.  He beat her.  Badly...  dislocated her shoulder, broke her collarbone, bruised three ribs, and slashed her face with a razor.  She needed thirty-two stitches across her cheek.  The only thing that saved her was that when he smashed her head into the dresser, he thought he killed her.  It took nineteen more stitches to close that wound.  I want him arrested.”

“Do we have a name on him?”

“No last name but goes by Jerome.  He’s in a suite at the Hilton.  Here’s the address, room four twenty-one.”

“I’ll check it out.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

“I have to ask though:  how did you get involved with this?  Not exactly your crowd.  Is it?”

“It’s a long story,” I sigh.

“One for your next AA meeting?”

“Nah, this one would be just for you,” I wink at him as he laughs and walks away.

“Miss King?” a nurse asks.

“That’s me.”

“Miss Adams is asking for you.  She’s in room two-twelve.”

***

I walk into the room, and I try not to gasp, but I feel the tears sting my eyes.  The whole left side of her face is swollen.  Her eye is black and surrounded by two separate sets of stitches.  She looks at me and tries to smile, but I can see that she is in a lot of pain.

"Hey love," I say quietly.

"Hey yourself," she responds back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I got beat up."

"That's not funny."

"Yes, it is."

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

"Yes," she replies.

"Whatever you need.  Just let me know."

"You can get me out of here."

Chapter Seventeen

Andrea:

She wants to be discharged immediately but due to the nature of her injuries, her concussion in particular, I convince her to stay at least one night. She only agrees if I stay the night with her and I happily oblige as that was my plan anyway.  There was no way that I was leaving her alone. No way in hell.

I pull up the sleeper chair next to her bed and watch Jeopardy as she sleeps... or tries to. She is very restless, and I understand all too well how that is.

I absentmindedly keep my hand next to her on the bed, almost instinctively in a protective manner, making sure that I know that she is there even if I'm not looking at her.

I hear her whimper softly, and I look to try to figure out if it's just a sleep response or if she is in pain. She is awake, and her face is twisted into a grimace as she tries to pull herself higher up on the bed with her good arm.

"Are you okay?" I ask. "Do you need help?"

"No. I'm okay. It just hurts to move. A lot," she says gritting her teeth.

"Do you need me to call the nurse?"

"No," she winces out. "I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"You're here. What else would I need?" she asks trying to wink at me through her the pain.

"That would be so much flirtier if your face wasn't contorted in pain when you said it," I laugh.

This elicits a similar response from her, but she is more restrained as I can tell that she is clearly in a good amount of pain. This causes my smile to tighten as I immediately feel the weight of my part in her being here.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

"I'm just... I'm - ... I'm sorry love."

"For what? What do you have to be sorry for?"

"For this. It's my fault that you're here." I turn my head and stare straight ahead, unable to look at her.

"How do you figure that?"

"If you hadn't gone home with me he wouldn't have...  hurt you like this."

"He's hurt me before Andy. This wasn't the first time. I was his favorite but ...  he's hurt me before. You saw the scars on my back.  It was inevitable that he would do it again. It was just a matter of time."

She grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. I keep my eyes straight ahead, still unable to shake my feelings of guilt.

As if reading my mind, she squeezes my hand and says, "It's not your fault."  But I still can't bring myself to look at her.

Chapter Eighteen

Raquel:

My sleep is restless. I wake up at least every hour trying to catch my breath. Every time I close my eyes I see him, and every time he hurts me more. She is awake every time I wake up, and I wonder if she ever sleeps.

When I startle awake at around four and she's not there, I start to panic. My heart starts to race as I begin to get up but before I can move I hear her whispering outside of my door. She is talking in a low voice, so I can't make out what she's saying, but just knowing that she is out there immediately makes me feel better. I close my eyes and try to relax, but I can't seem to get comfortable. I hear her come back in the room, but she does not immediately notice that I am awake. She sits back down and puts her hand on the bed.

"Did I keep you awake?"

She turns her head to look at me and gives me a soft smile that makes my insides flutter. I can't help but smile back.

"What? No. Not at all. I just don't sleep much."

"Neither do I. Where did you go just now?"

"I uh, called Mike. He's my sponsor," she pauses and laughs. "Long story for another time. Anyway, he has a cabin up by Yosemite Falls, and he says that I can use it for as long as I want. He usually rents it out, but he has to have work done on the front stairs and doesn't want the liability. But it's private, away from the city, and no one will be able to find us. I mean... if you want to go. It will give you time to heal.  Safely. So, what do you say?"

"I say ... what time do we leave?"

Chapter Nineteen

Three weeks later...

Raquel:

I wake up to an empty bed. The fresh air from the lake is drifting in through the window, and it smells so fresh and so clean. Stef usually fell asleep with me but had such frequent nightmares that she spent most of her nights on the couch. My body is still tender but well on its way to healing. Carefully I get up and pull on my robe before heading out to the living room.

I hear loud grunting as I make my way out to the living room and I see her. She is wearing a tight black tank top and tight black yoga pants, and everything she is doing and wearing is making my middle tight.  Unable to keep any of her physical therapy appointments she has taken to doing it on her own. I'm pretty sure she was overdoing it though because after each session, which she did every morning, she was painful enough to pop a few of her pills. Not sure how many but it was more than the prescribed dose. Percocet I think she said it was which she chewed for a faster effect. Most addicts did that, but she clearly was in pain.

Her skin glistened with sweat as she lifted a dumbbell with her bad arm in reps of ten. The strain was apparent in her muscles and her face, but she pushed through the pain. Her body was so strong and watching the way she worked out showed why.

I stood there and watched her, completely fascinated ... and turned on. She knew I was watching as I saw a sly grin spread across her face.

"Good morning sunshine," she announced breathlessly.

"Good morning gorgeous," I say with blatant honesty. "I mean, really?  Those muscles...  wow!"

"They HURT!  Just five more and...  DONE!  Damn that one was tough."

She grabs her towel off her workbench and wipes her face as she continues smiling at me.

"Feeling better?" she asks.

"Much. How's the shoulder?"

"Still working, fortunately. I always say that the pain is a good sign that it's still there."

"This is true!  So, what are you up to today?"

"Well, I was thinking, if you're up to it, I'd like to take a short walk to the lake. Maybe have some lunch. Skip rocks. Whatever. What do you think?  We've been cooped up for so long I think the fresh air will be good."

"I couldn’t agree more."

Chapter Twenty

Raquel:

"How much longer in the sling?" she asks as we amble down by the water.

"Because of both injuries, the doctor says six weeks," I answer. "But it's starting to feel much better. I think I should start being able to shower on my own soon."

"Well that's no fun," she laughs.

"You have been very helpful though seriously. I can't thank you enough."

Since we have been here, she has helped me with all my bathing needs. If I wasn't in such pain, the experience could have been erotic, but because of how hurt I was she was always very clinical about it. Except when she washed my hair. She massaged my head slowly, methodically, almost... lovingly. It was the most affection I had seen in a long time, and I savored it when she did it. Clients could be affectionate, but it was for their benefit alone, not mine. They were looking for that comfort, and they paid me to give it all the while leaving a part of me empty.

"I'm happy I could help," she says winking at me.

That wink always makes me tingle.

"So how much longer do you think we can stay here. Don't you have to work?"

"I'm sort of... in between jobs right now. But no worries, the government pays me nicely for almost losing a limb.  Not to mention the other mental deficits that the war has left me with.  Plus, I have a hefty savings account due to…  well let’s just say I have a nice little nest egg.”

I look at her and feel great sadness for all that she's been through. I don't even know what exactly it is, but I can tell that it's been a lot.

"Well, I don't see any deficits. I think you're beautiful," I say as I put my hand out and touch her arm.

She stops walking and just looks at me as she slides her hands in her pockets.

"I don't see it. But thank you," she says quietly as she turns and begins walking again.

"And I bet you tell all your clients that," she says in a failed attempt to make a joke. I don't find it funny. I reach out and grab her arm again stopping her.

"Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Talk about yourself like that.  You are gorgeous. And so is your soul. I know we don't know each other that well, but not many people would just up and leave their lives to help someone that they barely know. Especially someone like me. And I'm not saying this because you are paying me. You haven't paid me in weeks."

I can't help but laugh at my last thought, and this elicits a smile from her as well.

"I haven't always been in this life you know. I actually used to be pretty normal," she says as she starts walking again.

"So how did you end up here?"

"Bad choices. I followed the wrong girlfriend when I was twenty. We made so much money in the beginning. But the drugs were the biggest draw. I wouldn't say that I was ever an addict, but I was reliant on them. Especially when the head pimp wanted to "try out" the merchandise. I've known that I was a lesbian since I was fourteen years old. I had never been with a man before, and I never wanted to ever again after that. He tore me in three different places, and then expected me to work the next day. That's how it started. The abuse. But because I gutted it out, I became his favorite. "If Raquel can take it then so can the rest of you." He used to call me his "pillar of strength" because nothing seemed to break me. But it was just survival. My parents threw me out when I was seventeen, so I had nowhere to go and everything I had he took. I'm originally from Ohio, so the ex-girlfriend led me far from home. I had no skills. Well, at least no marketable ones. "Good with tongue and fingers" doesn't really look good on a resume. And now here I am."

"If you could be anything else what would you be?"

“I’d be a teacher.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Andrea:

We walk to where the lake curves around and realize we have gone far. I put my hand on her shoulder and guide her back around. But I let my hand slide down to the small of her back and leave it there.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that. It sounds awful.”

“It was, but it wasn’t without its good points.”

“What could possibly be good about any of that?” I ask more loudly than I intend to, but she just smiles at me.

“Well… I did meet you.”

We walk back to the house and sit on the back porch swing just enjoying the fresh air and the solitude.

“What happened to your arm? If you don’t mind me asking? And please, don’t be afraid to tell me to mind my business if you don’t want to talk about it. I’m just curious.”

“Mind your business,” I say but can’t keep a straight face and start laughing. “No, it’s okay. You shared a lot with me down by the lake I can share this with you.”

“You don’t have to. Like I said I’m just curious.”

“No, um... I was in Afghanistan you know, and I was a medic. My team got pinned down by some insurgents, and we were in quite a firefight. I took a bullet to the shoulder, but I saved a few guys in the meantime.”

“So, you’re a hero?”

My face tightens at the mention of that word. People use it all the time. But it couldn’t be more inaccurate.

“No. I’m not a hero. I lost two,” I say quietly.

“Out of how many?”

“A squad of twelve.”

“I’d say that’s a pretty good ratio.”

“Good men died that day. Husbands. Fathers. Boyfriends. Brothers. Any loss is a bad ratio.” I say this far angrier and louder than I intend to. “Look I’m sorry. I know you don’t understand what happened there. It’s not your fault. But it’s something I have to live with every day.  I’m just trying to make sense of it, and while it does get a little clearer every day, it’s still an uphill struggle.”

I put my hand on her knee and give it a light squeeze.

“I’m sorry for yelling. It’s something that I’m working on.”

She looks at me and gives me a small understanding smile. I think she gets it.

“Hey, are you hungry? We can order pizza from Jay’s. Mike swears by it.”

“Yeah, I could definitely eat.”

***

After we eat, we go out onto the back porch. It's been a gorgeous day and one where I finally don't feel scared.

I almost forget why we are here as we sit side by side, barely touching, rocking back and forth on the swing.

"This is what normal must feel like," I say to her.

"What's normal?" she laughs as she leans her head against my good shoulder.

I lean my head against hers and watch the sunset over the lake. It's so quiet. So peaceful. I suddenly notice that I’m finally feeling tired, something I have not felt in such a long time.

"I think I'm going to head up to bed."

"It's only seven o’clock," she reminds me.

"I know, but I haven't felt tired in a really long time. I should probably take advantage of it."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

I simply nod my head as I stand up and put my hand out to her.

When we get to the bedroom, we separate. I walk over to the closet and undress before putting on a big t-shirt. When I'm done, I turn around, and she is standing by the bed waiting for me. I almost forgot that she needs my help.

"I'm sorry. I almost forgot," I apologize as I move behind her. Carefully, I undo the strap that wraps around her body and holds her arm in place. Next, I gently remove her sling making sure I don't jostle her arm too much. Then I pull her shirt over her head working it over her arms as efficiently as possible. Her shoulder is healing, but it's several different shades of blue and purple and green and yellow. Not really thinking about it I lean forward and softly kiss her bruises.

Reaching around her I unfasten her pants then work them down her thin muscular legs. She is so beautiful, and I can feel my heart begin to hammer. Standing back up behind her I wrap my arms around her and place my hands on her stomach as I nuzzle my face into her neck. Slowly I kiss her jaw, then her ear down the side of her neck. Suddenly she pulls her head away, and I step back feeling embarrassed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just - ..."

"No, don't be sorry. It's okay. It's just... I have to be careful. Could you help me put this back on?"

"Oh of course," I laugh shyly as I help put her arm back into her sling and wrap. After I fasten it, she takes her good arm and pulls me to her by the waist.

"This time, if you kiss me, I won't run," she promises.

"Are you sure?" I ask slyly.

"Try me..."

Suddenly I'm very nervous. I haven't kissed anyone since Lara, and even though I promised myself, I would never be intimate with anyone else like that I can't help myself. I am so drawn to her and feel so connected to her that I feel like I would be cheating myself if I didn't do this. My body wants this so bad, but my head is resistance.

Finally, my mouth gives in, and I lean forward pressing my lips softly to hers.

It's innocent at first, and we just enjoy the sweet softness of lips pressed against lips.

But slowly our lips start to move, growing hungrier and hungrier as they part. Her mouth is sweet, like the cherry Chapstick I saw her put on earlier, her tongue slick as it slides against my own, her teeth sharp as they nip at my sensitive flesh.

I can feel my skin getting hotter, my middle getting wetter just her kissing me and I have to remind myself that we have to go slow. I feel my insides shaking, and the way I feel is reminiscent of the night I lost my virginity.

"Are you okay?" she asks smoothing my hair back.

"Yeah, it's just... I haven't kissed anyone since Lara."

"Is that why you wouldn't let me touch you?"

I shake my head yes.

"Will you let me touch you now?"

And I shake my head yes again.

"Sit on the edge of the bed..." she directs me.

Carefully she kneels between my legs and pushes me back as she begins tugging my underwear down with one hand. She positions herself so her that her injured shoulder is where it is most protected and then leans down and gives my center a long slow lick. I can't help but jerk up, arching my back, it feels so fucking good. And then she uses her good arm to hold me down as she licks and nips and sucks between my legs until I'm squirming and shaking.  It doesn’t take her long to push me over the edge, and within minutes I am cumming so hard that I squirt.

Slowly and methodically she licks all of me until I'm trembling again... and again... and again. By the fourth orgasm, I am exhausted, but I need to taste her.  I need to make her feel good.  I push her away gently, but suddenly I am overcome with emotion, and I start to cry.

And I can't stop crying.

Without saying a word, she moves onto the bed behind me and cradles me against her holding my head with her hand and softly kissing my forehead and cheeks. I cry until I am exhausted, and I can barely keep my eyes open, but I want to finish what we started. She wipes my tears away and holds me as much as she can with one arm. When I'm finally feeling calm, I turn and look at her.

"Can I go down on you?"

"Baby, you're exhausted. We can finish this later."

"Please?" I almost beg. I need this. She looks at me and knows that I won't take no for an answer. I have to do this. She nods her head and then carefully leans back on the bed, spreading her legs. I move around and immediately bury my face in her. She smells and tastes so good. I devour her and suckle her until I make her cry out and it makes me feel alive. Like I have a purpose. And at that moment, I feel whole. And I don't feel broken anymore.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Raquel:

I wake up and look at the clock. It's after midnight, and I sigh disappointedly as I realize that Andy is not in bed with me. Maybe she was having bad dreams again and sleeping on the couch?

I decide to go check.

She is not in the living room on the couch like I thought she would be. As a matter of fact, she is nowhere in the house.

"Where the hell could she have gone?" I ask myself out loud.

I go to the counter and pick up my cell which I bring out to the back porch to see if I can call her, but as I step outside, I see the light on in the loft of the garage. That must be her. But what the hell was she doing out there at this hour?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Raquel:

I walk up the stairs to the loft and find her sitting at a small table with her head in her hands.

"Andy?” I call gently.

She looks up at me and quickly wipes the tears from her cheeks.  Her face is red and splotchy, but she's smiling at me.  Her eyes though... her eyes are blank.  Almost crazed looking.

"Andy?" I call again.  "Are you okay?"

As I walk towards her, I see what is in front of her.  By her right side is a small silver revolver.  Maybe a .38?  I'm not sure.  My knowledge of firearms is minimal, but I'm sure that it's a revolver.  Next to that is a photograph of a beautiful, blonde, smiling boy who looks to be about six, and is the spitting image of her.  To the right of the picture are three bullets, and a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.

"He was calling me," she says almost joyfully.

"Who was?" I ask as I approach the table.

"You should probably go back to the house, Raquel.  Go back to bed."

She doesn't look at me as she says this.

"Who was calling you?" I ask again.

And she laughs at me like I'm crazy.

"Connor.  Of course."

"Andy, why don't you come back to bed.  You're exhausted."

"But that's where you're wrong Raquel.  For the first time...  in a long time?  I feel good.  I am ready to make peace."

I remember reading that one of the signs of Percocet abuse was hallucinations, and after witnessing her chew up to nine or more at a time, I was starting to fear that this might be the case.

"Why don't you give me the gun Andy?  We can go inside and talk about it."

"This gun?" she asks holding it up for me to see.

"Yes, that gun."

"Nah.  I'm going to need this," she says putting it back on the table.

"And what do you need it for?" I ask nervously.

She picks the gun back up and then a bullet and places it into the chamber of the gun.

"This one?  This one here is for McKinney.  Specialist Darren McKinney.  He was twenty-eight years old from Lincoln, Nebraska.  He had a wife.  Two daughters.  And a son on the way.  Time of death?  15:07 September 3, 2016."

She picks up the second bullet and slides it next to the first one.

"This is for Specialist Thomas Laramie, thirty-six years old.  He was from Minnesota and engaged to his high sweetheart who he had just found again before we were deployed.  He had a teenage daughter...  Mary, I think.  Fourteen years old.  His sister Caroline was taking care of her.  Time of death?  15:22 September 3, 2016."

Finally, she picks up the last bullet and kisses it gently.

"And this one?  This one...  this one is for you Connor.  My sweet, sweet boy."

She kisses the bullet one more time before sliding it into the chamber next to the other two.

"I could have saved him you know?" she says finally looking at me.

I carefully move to behind the chair across from her and rest my good hand on it.

"Before I was a weekend warrior with the Army I was an EMT.  I was the first on the scene of the accident.  My partner described a scene of total tragedy, just blood, and carnage everywhere.  Tractor trailer vs. a Saturn and we know the Saturn doesn't stand a chance.  I didn't realize it was them when I came to the scene, but my partner...  he knew, and he tried to stop me.  But the EMT in me took over and then I froze.  When I could finally move, I went to Lara first even though I knew she was dead.  She had been thrown through the windshield, and her head skidded across the pavement leaving pieces of it on the road.  That's why there's no bullet for her.  I couldn't save her.  But him?  I could have saved.  Just like I could have saved McKinney and Laramie.  If I had just been a few minutes earlier...  "

She spins the chamber of the gun and snaps it closed.  Holding it under her chin, she announces, " Time of death?  12:07 March 21, 2016."

And she pulls the trigger.

"Jesus Christ! No!" I scream as I jump in fright.

The hammer clacks into the empty chamber, but my heart is in my throat.  My insides are shaking as I reach towards her.

"Andy... please... " My voice is trembling.  "Give me the gun."

"I still have two more tries," she says with an eerily calm voice.

Again, she pulls the trigger.

*Clack*

The empty chamber echoes in my ears and my heart continues to race.

"Andy...  PLEASE!" I beg.  "Just give me the gun."

She removes the gun from her chin and looks me dead in the eye.

"I'm a failure Raquel.  Why should I?"

"Because...."

I pause as I try to find the right words.

"That's not good enough."

She takes the gun and puts it back under her chin.

"BECAUSE," I say in a panicked voice.  "Because...  while you couldn’t save those men...   and while you couldn’t save Connor ...  you were able to save me."

She continues to look at me, and I swear I see her mind switch and come back but then her eyes grow dark again.

"Bullshit," she spits out instead and presses the gun more firmly into the soft part of her neck.

"It's true.  It's true, Andy. I swear to God!  You saved my life!  More than once.  You saved me when I met you in the bar that night...  you saved me when you pulled me out of that dumpster... and you saved me by bringing me here.  I need you.  Please!  I need you!  Give me the gun."

Tears begin to form in her eyes and then spill out of the corners.  I can see the overwhelming sadness, and it breaks my heart.  But I can fix it.  I know I can.

I love her.

"I love you," I finally say quietly.  "I do.  I love you."

She looks at me, her eyes wide with shock and sadness and surprise.

"I love you," I say again as I reach closer with my hand for the gun.

We stand in silence for what seems like forever and then finally she hands me the gun.

"I love you too."

She crumples on the table, sobbing.  I put the gun behind me by the window, and then I walk over to her, pulling her into my arms and holding her as close as possible with my ruined shoulder.  And then... she finally allows herself to grieve.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Andrea:

One year later...

"And as I held the gun to my neck and pulled the trigger I really did feel a sense of peace.  If she had not been there, I would have kept trying.  She really saved my life that night."

"So, what happened to the man that attacked her?"

"He uh, he was arrested while we were still in Yosemite.  He pleaded innocent, and the judge was going to release him for lack of evidence.  But Raquel was smart.  She kept logs:  names, dates, times, money transactions...   and she threatened to go public with it.  So, he pleaded guilty and took three years.  It's not much, but it's better than nothing.  And she didn't plan on being around here when he got out anyway."

"So, she's moved on from that life?"

"You could say that.  She moved to San Bernardino, and she's attending some college classes trying to finish her Bachelor's in education."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"You know, I'm happy for her. I'm really happy she got away from that life. She deserves to be happy. She's a beautiful woman, a beautiful soul."

"And how are you, Andy?  How are you really doing?"

"Well, my shoulder is healed.  It's not 100%, but it's just about there and considering they didn't think I'd get any use back I'd say that's pretty good.  I just finished the police academy, and I start nights in a few weeks.  I also no longer take pain meds of any kind. I'd say things were going pretty well."

"Have you thought about dating again?"

"One step at a time, Doc. But I'm keeping my options open."

"A year ago, you would have cut my heart out with your eyes if I even hinted at that. I'm glad to see you finally opening up."

"Me too, Doc. It feels good. I feel good finally."

"You can tell Andy. You can really tell. Well, time's up."

"Time's up. Same time next week?"

"Same time next week."

Chapter Twenty-Five

Flashback:

Andrea:

Raquel helps me up from the table and wraps her arm around my waist as she walks me back to the house. Carefully she helps me undress and put my pajamas on, and then holds me from behind as I continue to cry. When there are no tears left, she cleans my face, and I finally drift off to sleep. And I sleep, and sleep, and sleep.

When I wake up the next day, I expect to feel refreshed, but withdrawal has set in. Everything hurts, and then the vomiting and diarrhea start. I beg her to just give me one, but she holds my hair and rubs my back and refuses to give in. I'm angry and harsh with my words, but I'm too weak to physically do anything, so she just takes my wrath. For two weeks she just takes it, but by the end of the second week the cramping and chills have begun to subside, and I am beginning to feel somewhat normal. I'm still in a great deal of pain, but I'm learning to cope with it. By the third week, I am still feeling tired, but most of my withdrawal symptoms have faded. I can think about food without vomiting, and I beg her to order us some pizza which she agrees to.

At this point, her sling has come off, and while it's still tender she has most of her range of motion back, and she can bear a little weight. At the beginning of the week, we get word from Mike that Jerome has been caught and he's being held without bail. On Wednesday we discuss me leaving ahead of her to get back into therapy. I'll go on Thursday and Lena will head back on Sunday to be back in time for Jerome's arraignment. We both think that it will keep me from relapsing. That night as we sit at the kitchen table and eat pizza (again) we realize just how connected we have become.

"I just wanted to say thank you," I say as I take a bite of my pizza.

"For what?"

"For what? For everything. I'm leaving tomorrow, and I just think that it's important for you to know that from the moment I met you my life has changed. And while the things that have happened to us since we met may not have always been the best, my time spent with you has been. There is not a single second I have been with you that I regret. You saved me. You really did." A single tear falls from my eye, but I smile at her. I mean every single word I say.

She looks at me, and I can see the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Suddenly she is up and on me, straddling my lap as she latches on to me with an open mouth and exploring tongue. We kiss breathlessly for what seems like hours but is only minutes. Finally, she pulls away as she wraps her arms around my neck and digs her fingers into my hair. We kiss periodically, no rush, just enjoying each other. She leans her head back and looks down at me with hooded eyes.

"Take me to bed."

Her words are a mixture of demand and pleading and I immediately comply with her request. It would be far more romantic if I could carry her to bed with her legs around my waist, but neither of us has the adequate strength back in our injured arms to even try it, so we just laugh as we half walk and half waddle to the bedroom, neither of us wanting to let go. There we strip off our clothes, and then we strip off our inhibitions as we make love repeatedly with mouths and tongues and fingers and hands until neither of us has a single ounce of energy left.

In the morning we eat breakfast side by side with her in the crook of my arm but in silence as we wait for my cab to come to pick me up. I am leaving her the car and the gun, just in case, and I had Mike ask the local police department to periodically check up on her. It'll only be a couple of days so she will be fine she assured me.  She might head back early and stay with a friend for a while. Both of us cringe when we hear the taxi pull up and beep its horn. I get up, and I give her a long kiss on the cheek before I walk towards the door picking up my bag.

"See ya around kid," I say quietly as I wink at her and walk out the door.

I struggle to hold back tears as I walk around the front of the house from the back porch and approach my cab.

"Andy! Andy! Andy!" she yells and then she is running at me like a cheesy scene from corny love story where the lovers are about to part but change their minds at the last second and start running towards each other. And I hear this song playing in my head, something about always loving you, and it's so cliché as we laugh and embrace and kiss and cry. But as cliché as it sounds, it really is an overwhelming and emotional moment, and I have no idea how I'm going to live without her.

"You changed my life too," she says into my neck as we hold each other tight not ready to let go.

"I love you," she says multiple times against my face.

"I love you too," I say back, finally letting her go.

Flashback Ends

Chapter Twenty-Six

Raquel:

It's so quiet as I sit with my laptop and school books spread out in front of me. All I can hear is the soft snoring of my grey and white Pitbull puppy Layla.  She was a gift with the intention of her being a guard dog, but she was an epic failure in that department. However, no one knew that, and at forty-five pounds at six months old, her size and bark would be a good bluff.

I hear my phone buzz, and my face immediately lights up with a smile.

ANDY:  hey love, how are you feeling?

ME:  I'm okay. Feeling a little overwhelmed but nothing new.

ANDY:  how much longer do you have left?

ME:  Two more classes and then I graduate in the spring!

ANDY:  I am so proud of you!  That is… you are amazing!

ME:  Thank you, baby.  That means so much to me.  It’s like starting over here.  I’m happy no one knows me, and I can just live you know?  Anyway, when do you start working overnights?

ANDY:  Next Wednesday!  It'll be rough, but it'll only be until the next set of recruits goes through in about six months. Then I can move to four to midnights or maybe even days depending on this year’s retirees.

ME:  You must be so proud of yourself.  I know I am.

ANDY:  For the first time in a long time I actually am.  Of both of us.  We’ve come a long way, baby.  Except...

ME:  Except what?

ANDY:  I just...

There is a long pause in between texts.

ANDY:  I miss you. I know it sounds crazy but...

ME:  I miss you too.

ANDY:  You can’t see me, but I’m smiling right now.  A big, goofy, happy, genuine smile.  Thanks love.

ME:  No, thank you.  I couldn’t have done any of this without you.

ANDY:  Don’t sell yourself short.  You’re a brilliant, resourceful woman.  You would have figured something out.

ME:  Maybe.  But you made it so much easier.

ANDY:  Well, it’s getting late now.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  Good luck with your quiz!

ME:  Thanks, babe.  I should be alright. It's open book. LOL

ANDY:  Then you will absolutely ace it!  Good night.

ME:  Good night.

And just like that my happiness turned to sadness as the weight of her absence weighed heavily on my heart.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Andrea:

I enter my apartment, and it's quietly depressing. I have the bare minimum of furniture, and I have yet to add any personal touches. I throw my keys on the counter and use my phone to order a pizza before I head to the bathroom for a shower.

Fifteen minutes and one steaming hot shower later I am in my pajamas and slippers. As I begin towel drying my hair, I hear a knock at the door.

“Perfect timing,” I murmur to myself. I’m starving!”

“How much do I owe you?” I ask as I pull the door open.

“Hi,” I say my mouth hanging open in shock.

“I intercepted your pizza,” she says looking even more beautiful than the last time I saw her.

Within seconds she has dropped the pizza on the floor, and she is in my arms kissing me. It’s fast and urgent and messy, but neither of us can get enough. It takes us a minute to realize that Layla has taken advantage of the fallen pizza, and we break apart long enough to scoop up the pizza box and put it on the counter. Raquel shuts the front door and unclips Layla’s leash as she immediately hops onto the couch and curls up. I reach my hand out to her and lead her quickly into the bedroom.

“You weren’t supposed to be back for three weeks,” I state between kisses as I tug her jacket off and she kicks off her shoes.

“I couldn’t stay away. I missed you too much.” Her hands go to the hem of my shirt, and she pulls it over my head.

“What about your class?” I ask as I unbutton her pants and start unzipping them.

“My professor said that I could finish it online. Especially after he heard how sick I was...” she says as she runs her tongue from my collarbone up to my ear making me tremble.

“What’s the matter?” I ask as I unbutton her shirt and quickly pull it down off her arms.

“I have a fever. I’m burning up,” she says in a low voice as she pulls my hand towards her center and pushes it down her underwear.

“You are so corny,” I laugh.

“But you love me,” she states confidently as she grasps the sides of my pants and pulls them down my thighs.

“Yes, I do,” I declare as I slide my finger over her wet slit and then settle it on her hard nub.

Working her slowly with my finger I turn us around and sit down on the edge of the bed with her in front of me between my legs. Her hands go to my head, and she buries her fingers in my hair. I use my other hand to tug her underwear down as I lean forward and kiss her right breast and then the left, taking care to suckle each nipple until I feel them pebble against my tongue. Kissing my way to the middle of her chest I drag my tongue down her sternum to her stomach. It has just barely begun to swell, and the feel of the slight bulge under my tongue makes me so happy.

“And how are my babies?” I ask placing a light kiss just above her belly button.

“Moving around a bit. Still coming to the appointment next month?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I bet it’s a boy and a girl,” I state as I pull my hand from her center and move down to kiss her mound.

“I think you might be right,” she says as she puts her hands on either side of my face and tilts my head to look at her.

“Are we crazy?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Everything just happened so fast with us. I’m just...”

“Scared?”

“Yes.”

“Me too. But years from now I don’t want to look back and think “we could have been magnificent, but I was afraid.” Years from now I want to tell our kids, our grandkids, about how fear tried to cheat me out of the best thing that ever happened to me in my life, and I didn’t let it.  Now come here.”

I take her hands and pull her down on top of me. We won’t be able to do this much longer, but I plan to take full advantage of it until we can’t.

For the next three hours, we make love gently and slowly with fingers and tongues and hands over and over and over and over again. When we are finished, and we are both covered in each other’s sweat and essence and utterly exhausted, she rolls off me, and I spoon her from behind. Tenderly, I place my left hand over hers and interlock our fingers enjoying the feeling of our rings pressed together and fall asleep confident this is exactly where both of us belong.

***

"If you had told me one year ago that I'd be married with babies on the way today I'd have thought you were insane."

"Ummm... hello?" she says laughing.

"I know, I know. It's crazy."

"It was fate."

Turning her slightly in my arms so I can look at her I say "Thank you" quietly.

"For what?"

"For saving me."

I trace down the side of her face with my finger then stop at her chin.

"No. We saved each other."

Smiling, she takes my hand and kisses my knuckles.

I tilt her face towards me, and I kiss her with a slow urgency, savoring the feel of her tongue swirling against mine and the delicious taste of our essences intermingling.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you too."