Learning to Trust: Curtain Falls (3 page)

Or maybe none of this was true. Maybe he did actually manage Roland's reputation and that was it.
Ramón
had said that the FBI didn't know a lot about him. Was that a good or bad thing? God, there were so many unanswered questions, so many avenues of thought that I could peruse.

Being in the middle of this, I felt so bad for
on-screen
characters I had abused in movies, disgusted at myself for shouting my unheeded, unrequested advice at the screen during tense situations and
growling
at them when they
didn't follow it. When you're
safe in your living room, cuddling with a glass of wine, you're usually more clearheaded than that poor sap that's running from the mob lord, battling a psychotic killer, or caught in the middle of a growing, multi-billion dollar scandal.
This was
hard
.

Never again
, I thought.

When the door swung open, I grabbed my phone like it was a weapon, brandishing it in my hand to use against the advancing intruder—Frederic. "God, you scared me," I whined. The smell of fried food suddenly made me realize just how hungry I
had grown during his absence
.
I was almost drooling.

"Sorry it took so long. That place is a local favorite. They feature it on TV sometimes. I hope you're okay with burgers and fries."

"I don't think anything sounds better right now."

"What about a milkshake?"

I giggled. "Really?"

"Yeah, it's
not
soda
in those cups
.
"

"Oh," I said jokingly. "I was hoping it was whiskey."

"Just eat!" Frederic smiled, his youth still prominent, yet obviously diminishing. Ten more years of this and he'd probably look like an old man. Maybe he'd get promoted or quit before that and save himself. I didn't need to think anymore though—I needed to eat.

Oh my god
, the food was absolute bliss. It was everything
they
told you not to eat—a greasy bacon cheeseburger, a huge pile of grease-glistening fries, and a real ice cream chocolate milkshake—but it was absolutely perfect. For some reason, it felt like a
last meal
, the sort of thing you'd request before heading to the electric chair. Binge and then let them cook you alive in the chair. It was such a ma
cabre thought
while I ate.

"I didn't eat like this growing up," Frederic said.

"Really?" I asked, somewhat shocked. It made
perfect
sense, but I'd never really considered it before.

"Sure," he said, chewing his bite of burger before continuing. "This food is certainly available in France now, but we don't really like you Americans do."

"God," I remarked, "this stuff reminds me of my childhood. It reminds me of growing up."

"I only started to eat this stuff when I came here. But I don't eat it that often. I try to make it a treat. For special moments."

"Didn't you have fries there? They're called
French
fries for a reason, right?"

"
P
ommes frites
," he said, his French perfect. Sometimes I forgot he even spoke another language, even though his accent was a constant reminder that English probably wasn't his first. "I don't really know if they did come from France. Some people say Belgium, but I don't really know. I d
on't think food i
s so simple."

We continued to gobble down our respective
piles
of food,
a mountain of wadded up napkins forming on the bed near us. I kept thinking about my childhood
, the
home movies
playing in my mind on repeat
.

After I got my driver's license, my friends and I would go up to the beach
during the summer
and spend the day
s
swimming and tanning. And then, when we were starving, we'd go to the burger joint and eat as much as we could. It just didn't matter back then.
And then w
e would drive back
home
as the sun was setting, the trip relat
ively short, but long enough that we could enjoy the full spectacle of the
day's conclusion
. It was one of those
pure moments
from growing up, the ones that you begged for as you got older. None of us knew how serious the world could be—and I begged for that same innocent ignorance now.

The sunset in my mind
quickly morphed into
the one that I had watched with Roland the previous night, the glowing orb suddenly becom
ing the flames in the Provence.
D
amnit!
I couldn't control that destruction in my mind. Why couldn't I just think about the happy thoughts, the thoughts that would help me sleep at night? Instead, those dirty-black, sobering realizations of mortality always seemed to creep in when you just wanted to be prancing around in endless fields of golden wheat, the prototypical image of young bliss.

My eyes flooded with tears, almost as if a switch had been flipped inside of me. I had no idea how long I had been drifting alone through my thoughts.
Was Frederic doing the same?
Audible weeping was emerging now—and there was no way for me to hide that.

"Oh god, Frederic," I sobbed. "I can't believe what I've become."

"It wasn't your fault, Marisa! Damnit, don't blame yourself
for the actions of sadistic men.
"
He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me against his chest. Normally I would have worried about crying on his fancy shirt—but not now.

I just coul
dn't accept his advice
. It didn't fit. I was purging, my body desperately seeking to rid itself of this emotional
buildup. "I took in that case! I
hated
him for humiliating me!"

"Just because you didn't like the guy doesn't mean you're in any way responsible for his death. You're shooting the messenger."

"Bullshit! I left a bomb in that building and killed innocent people! I'm not the messenger—I'm the
executioner
!" Sobs kept escaping from me, trapped sounds of sorrow that were finally breaking free. Somehow
,
I hadn't spilled my guts about
Ramón
, even though I had totally lost myself.

Frederic held me tight, even during my flare-ups, almost like he was doing his best to contain a fire. "You delivered a message. You had no idea what you were doing. You said you only saw money in that briefcase, so how can you blame yourself?" He gently stroked my hair with his hand, his gentle motion instinctive. "You're never going to want to forgive yourself for this, but you're going to have to try."

"I'm just not made for this," I said.

"I'll agree with you on that," he whispered. "Take some deep breaths."

I breathed in as much as I could and exhaled until my lungs were empty.

"Again," he said.

I complied—somehow
I was calming down, my nerves relaxing and
the tension evaporating from me. It was such simple advice, but you never thought about it when you were dealing with your sorrows. "Wow," I said. "Thanks, Frederic." I was still sniffling, but I was nothing like the absolute wreck I had been only a minute before.

"You're welcome, Marisa." He kissed the nape of my neck and continued stroking my hair. I was relaxed again, my volatility nearly winning another round.

"What do we do now?" I asked quietly. "I don't think I can ever face Roland again."

"We're just going to wait," he whispered.

And then, the warmth started flooding through my body, a heat of passion that was flaring up just as my emotions had the prior moment. I could barely remember who I was, the surge of arousal drowning out everything except that sudden burning need.

I kissed him hard, my tongue tracing over all of the interior surfaces of his mouth, mapping it out as our saliva mixed. He quickly fought back, doing the same to me. We twined like that, our hands climbing all over each other like they were independent creatures that existed only to seek the feeling of bare flesh.

My heart was pounding in my chest, the moisture flooding between my thighs. I don't think lust had ever overtaken me like this before. Flashes of reality mingled with the strange perception of the world that I was facing. I was kissing down Frederic's chest, unbuttoning his shirt as I went. His fingers were sliding up my thighs, desperat
ely pulling at my panties to obtain
to what lied beneath.

I gasped as his fingers brushed against that tiny bundle of nerves, my clit never before so sensitive, so flushed with blood. But I fought the urge to melt, the urge to allow him to just have his way with me. This was a tw
o-way street, one that required me to assert my body's dominance.

His erection was throbbing through his pants and I frantically rubbed it after his shirt was unbuttoned and wide open. I peppered his chest with desperate kisses, sucking in his scent like it was air after I'd nearly drowned. He was parting me with his fingers, my juices pouring onto his skin as he pressed inside of me.

I could tell he couldn't wait any longer, his hands desperately clawing at my blouse until the tops of my breasts were visible. He buried his face in that soft mass of flesh, his breath so delicate and hot against my skin. My hands were toying with the button on his pants while he did so, trying to free his cock as quickly as I could. I got the front opened and pulled his pants and boxers down at once, freeing that hardened length that I eyed so hungrily.

The napkins and other remains of dinner tumbled to the floor as we shifted on the bed, his shirt falling off as he again fumbled with my blouse. This time—with my assistance, of course—he managed to get me free from my clothes, my body fully exposed and ready for him. His lips met each of my hardened nipples, his hands caressing my breasts as he moved. I was buzzing by this point, my mind totally fixated on the sensations of my body.

Frederic pushed me hard against the bed with his
arms and penetrated me all at once, the sensation that of both pain and pleasure. Normally, I would have hated such a rude, animalistic gesture had I not been in such a state of overwhelming arousal. Tonight, however, I
needed
it
more than anything
. My muscles clenched around his erection, fighting to accommodate him. Our eyes locked as he lustfully
watched the expression on my face as he went deeper and deeper.

I groaned loudly, but said no words, my brain only functioning at half capacity. I was reduced to nothing but nerves and sensations, my perceptions so limited, yet so vivid. In a way, it felt like I had lost one of my senses and the rest were working in overtime.

Frederic pumped into me with such fury, my body
accepting
the full force of each thrust. He was reaching all of the right
places deep inside of me,
enthusiastically stretching my limits.
My blood was boiling, my mind raging with pleasure.
Vulnerability
had caused this storm to explode in me and overtake everything I knew as reality. Nothing was sensible in that moment except for our lovemaking.

Sweat dripped down Frederic as our bodies coiled on the bed, his
stamina
seemingly limitless. There was such aggression in his movements. I could see his muscles throbbing and flexing each time he inched in and out of me, his length vanishing and reappearing at will.

My fingers found my nipples and tweaked slowly, the burning pangs shooting down to my throbbing clit. I was quickly approaching orgasm, quickly ascending to that place of pleasure that my body had utterly demanded. I felt like Frederic was fu
cking all of me, mind and body, taking me out of the room and to somewhere else entirely.

I started to come, the undulating waves overtaking me at once. My cries filled the room, accompanying the wet slapping sounds of our sex. Oh god, I was losing it, losing my grasp on my already diluted reality. My pussy fluttered around him, pulsing with each peak of my orgasm. And he quickly followed me to that same exotic place of bliss, letting out a guttural cry and allowing me to milk him of every drop of release he had.

My back arched against the bed, my nails digging into his back, my toes curling as the tension uncoiled inside of me. A huge weight was being lifted, one that was leaving me with an incredible peace. Every spurt of his seed kept me at attention, kept me aware of his
larger-than-life
power and pleasure.

As his orgasm slowed, he fell onto me,
his mind abruptly returning to normality. His chest frantically heaved like mine
, his cock still deeply inside of me. I held him as I felt something like trust, something like relief. We both had needed that moment together so badly
, even if it would seem irrational in retrospect
.