Surreal Ecstasy Page 15

  The angle of the sun shining through the big window told me it was the late afternoon. Ree had obviously been keeping a close eye on me. Realizing it was quiet in the room, I asked him, "Where's Dess?"

  "She went to pick up some dinner for us. I ordered a chicken parmigiana for you. Is that okay?"

  I assured him it was and thanked him for being so thoughtful. I couldn't believe I'd taken a nap in the middle of the day. I sat up slowly and relayed my dream to him, including the part about how the Fake Ree helped me understand my powers.

  Ree found his fake alter-ego incredibly amusing and wouldn't shut up about it, totally ignoring the part about how I practiced my Architect power. Instead, he focused on asking for play-by-play details of the mischievous things I must have done with the Fake Ree.

  "We did not do anything like that," I said indignantly. "He wasn't even really you; he was just another part of me that looked like you. Doing anything with him would have been like having sex with myself."

  "Interesting!" Ree cheered, the naughty smile on his face growing. "Please, do go on, with as many details as possible. You can even insert some extra details, if you want."

  A hot blush crept up my neck and spread to my ears. "I told you, nothing happened. Got it? We practiced constructing and organizing mind rooms to different people's specs, kind of like interior decorating."

  Ree nodded and looked thoughtful for a few seconds, and I was certain he'd forgotten about any 'self-love' ideas. He got up, picked up a couple boxes that were sitting in random places, and straightened them, putting one on top of another in a neat pile. Then he returned to the mattress and sat down next to me.

  "Can you give me a live performance of what it would have been like, though? Right now, please. Just lay back and get comfortable. I'll get you some extra pillows, and a glass of water for afterwards. I won't even take pictures…the first time."

  "Ree!" I slapped him on his upper arm playfully, but he was so toned, he didn't even flinch.

  "Okay, okay, okay," Ree said, pouting in utter defeat. "Let's go in a different direction here. How are you feeling emotionally?"

  "I feel… crappy. Miserable. I don't know, I guess learning more about the Slate murders just… I don't know," I repeated. "It's like watching seven straight hours of crime drama. It gets to you after a while and affects your perception of the world. At least temporarily."

  "Okay," Ree said again, the tone of his voice suggesting he'd figured out a way to tackle this situation. "Let's pretend you're an FBI agent, or a police investigator. You just found out that three people have died." I looked down and began crying again, but Ree put his face where I could see it, ensuring he had my full attention. "You could either let it affect you, which would make the murderers win and be in control, or you could channel your feelings into determination, to find out who did this and how we can stop them, honoring the memories of the victims by doing so."

  I looked up. He really did always know what to say.

  "Now you, Morgan, have a special gift. You are the Architect—the only human helper Dess and I even know about. You've chosen to work for the Worthy and be on the side of good. We need you," he added, putting his hand on the side of my shoulder. "Together we will find out who's been doing this, and we'll take proactive measures to protect the rest of the Worthy. The deaths of the twenty who have died will not be in vain." He paused for a few moments, possibly to allow everything he'd said sink in.

  It did.

  "Morgan, I know that physically, technically, we just met. But I have known you for a very, very long time. Take my word for it. Loving you has opened up my soul and made my mind rejoice, and I'm aware of things that I've never even thought about before."

  I smiled at him and continued to watch him. "I'm glad I can help you open up your soul."

  An adorable simper played itself across Ree's perfect face. "Now, back to the matter of showing me how this self-love business works…"

  The hot blush returned to my face in a flash. "Ree! Stop!" I hit him on his arm again because it was the only response I could come up with while so flustered. Then, a thought occurred to me. "You remember everything in my life up to when we met, right?"

  "I can pull out those memories, yes."

  Crap. "So all the times that I…that I've, uh, you know…did things by myself, all these years? You saw all that?"

  Not saying anything, he laughed quietly.

  "Oh, my god!" I pulled my blanket way over my head, wishing I could run away and hide in a barrel or something.

  Ree laughed to himself and peeled the blanket away from my face, assuring me that I had nothing to be ashamed about and that he wouldn't look at those memories unless I gave him explicit permission.

  "Gee, thanks," I said, still hiding my face. "Just don't hold your breath, buddy."

  "There's nothing wrong with it, Morgan," he said lightheartedly, trying to make eye contact with my ever-hiding face.

  "Oh, my god!" I said again. "Will you just drop the subject, please?"

  We went on like that until Dess got home with bags and boxes of garlic-smelling food. The gentleman in Ree got up to take the bags away from his sister.

  I sat up and sighed, relieved we wouldn't have to discuss this anymore. He must have sensed this somehow because he gazed up at me briefly and winked, giving me a warning in code so as not to embarrass me further.

  "We are not done with this conversation, Morgan. We still need to elaborate on the 'self' issue some more, complete with detailed demonstrations. We'll pick this up tonight before bedtime."

  Chapter 14

  "My mother is crazy!" Dess shouted into the street.

  I was sympathetic, to be sure, but I also happened to be very amused.

  I was completely moved out of the apartment by Monday. The twins had chosen to let their money do the talking for once and they'd hired movers to do the labor, and maids to clean the place up. I'd told them that the latter wasn't necessary, but Ree had insisted, saying that it was better to leave a good impression behind after you've lived somewhere.

  All I'd needed to do was cancel my utilities. I still had to go to the post office and submit a change of address form, but I was too lazy for that at the moment.

  Ree had agreed to pay the movers a little extra so they could get those damn boxes out of Dess' spare bedroom and move it into the empty garage. My spirits lifted when I realized that the spare bedroom would be called our bedroom from this point forward. I'd never really lived with someone before. Spending a few nights alone at an old boyfriend's house while he spent the night gambling and doing god knows what else really, really didn't count.

  It was early Monday evening, and Mrs. Rios, the twins' mother, apparently wanted to ensure that Ree, her baby, had enough clothes and belongings to feel comfortable all the way out in the boonies, AKA Washington. Recalling his one duffel bag that he had brought with him from L.A, I was inclined to agree with that, theoretically. But paying big bucks to have five very obviously-expensive chests flown over and then driven to the twins' doorstep in a gigantic truck seemed to be a tad much.

  Only Ree seemed to have no reaction. He was standing on the sidewalk, having a discussion with the two men that drove the trunks here from California, trunks that were now littered across our driveway, so that anybody passing by will immediately observe that Dess had been living a humble lie.

  I had to admit I felt inferior to those five inanimate objects. They looked like they belonged in a presidential suite at the Four Seasons, not in a driveway of a house that couldn't have been worth more than $200,000.

  Ree came over to us with a big smile on his face. "Good news, Dess. Two of those trunks are yours."

  Dess stood there in shock while Ree laughed and walked back to the men, getting out his wallet as he did so. "Do not tip them!" she screamed at him at the top of her lungs. "Do not thank them for doing Mom's evil work!"

  He grinned casually as he gave the men a tip, but I couldn't tell how much he gave them. I c
ould have sworn it looked like it was $100 each. "It's time to give up the ghost. Just dress how you usually do. What do you really think people will say? Who cares?"

  My head snapped to look dead-on into Dess' eyes. "You normally don't dress like this?"

  "Sort of," she replied in a confrontational tone, still pissed off, apparently. "I have my own style. It's just that I've lived a modest life these past few months, and I've enjoyed it. Now my mom's shoving me right back into the lap of luxury, and that should be my choice. I can't very well go to a minimum-wage job and slap an apron atop a Gucci suit."

  "You could just wear a shirt you bought at the dollar store with ripped jeans and Valentino heels," Ree laughed as he helped the drivers bring the trunks in the house.

  "He's enjoying this way too much," Dess confided.

  "I'm just scared that he knows women's designer shoes too well," I quipped.

  Dess chuckled briefly and shook her head, sighing. "Let's just go back in the house," she said. "I want to go to sleep early tonight. Tomorrow I have to pick up your final check from work and clean out your locker. I might as well quit while I'm at it. I don't really need to be there anymore. I mean, you were probably the mystical reason that I chose Anny's ad from the paper and worked for her, of all the jobs that were available that day."

  "Does Anny know who you are?"

  "Yes and no. I joked that Abuela Zerlina was my Abuela Zerlina, but she laughed it off, like it was impossible. The bitch."

  "Oh, to be a fly on the wall when you go to work in your expensive clothes." I was imagining the delicious scene already. Anny Malone did not like being shown up in any form whatsoever. I could just imagine her standing there, seething. I wondered if she would foam at the mouth and scream obscenities to the heavens. Or perhaps she would try to suck-up to Dess big time. Either prospect was equally satisfying, in my opinion. She was bitter, lonely, and hateful, and I'd call her an old troll, except she had way too much body mass for that.

  We headed toward the front door just as Ree was coming back out. "Oh, there's one more thing in their van that I have to get out. You can borrow it tomorrow, Dess, if you don't feel like driving the Kia."

  What? Just how insane was Mrs. Rios?

  Ree laughed at our frozen faces. I secretly wondered if he was the one who wanted everything brought up here, not his mom. But then I remembered how down-to-earth Ree was from the beginning, and how much he loved to irritate Dess. From this I concluded that he was doing all this just to get on his sister's nerves.

  The men came out and let down a ramp from their moving van, and out came the most beautiful, black, sleek car I'd ever seen. It was a Lamborghini, Ree told me.

  "Your mom sent you your Lamborghini so you could feel comfortable in Lynnwood?" That wasn't something I got to say everyday. He only looked at me and winked.

  Where can I sign up to be a Rios?

  Dess was out the door early the next morning, dressed to the nines in a light gray pinstripe suit and very nice-looking high heels. I wasn't sure who the designers were, since these things were always way over my head, but I did notice with delight that she added her own individuality to the outfit, donning a see-through skull shirt under her jacket and a black gothic choker. Her hair was up in a dignified twist and she wore small diamond earrings that gave off a million sparkles in the sunlight. She looked amazing, and I couldn't help but stare as I tried to convince myself this was the same Dess that had stuck by my side all week. Watching her get in Ree's Lamborghini was like watching Tyra Banks get in a Ferrari and drive away.

  I wished again that I could be there when she pulled up in that crappy parking lot and she told Anny's over-painted face that she was leaving and that a year's salary there was like a five-minute shopping spree for her. Okay, so maybe she probably wouldn't say that last part, but I secretly hoped she was snobby or spiteful enough to say something of that nature. And then, of course, she was required to recount every last detail to me for my own smugness and satisfaction.

  I scrambled around on the couch, trying to retrieve an issue of Cosmo that I'd picked up a couple weeks ago and had never finished perusing. I turned on the TV and opened the magazine to a random page, pleased to catch Paula Deen making hush puppies.

  Just as Paula was taking them out of the deep fryer, I felt Ree's elbow in my ribs. This particular magazine issue had an extensive article featuring elaborate sexual positions, and looking over to him, I saw him point excitedly to one of the positions. "Number seventy-eight!" he whispered.

  I began to laugh like it was a joke, and then did a double-take at the corresponding illustration. "That's impossible!" I whispered back. "That is so inhumanly possible."

  "Lucky for us, I'm not entirely human."

  "Yes, you are! Your body is human, with human limitations."

  "But I have special abilities. I can do stuff."

  "You're insane," I whispered.

  "Insane about you." He leaned in and kissed me quickly, then kissed me again slower, and more deliberately.

  In seconds I was ready to experience his love again, and I demonstrated that with slow, soft kisses all over his face. He closed his eyes, and then opened one to look at me. "Number seventy-eight?" he asked hopefully.

  "Will you never give up?"

  "Never. I've watched over and guided you your entire life. The least you could do is number seventy-eight," he teased.

  I sighed exasperatedly. "I need to work up to it," I murmured as I kissed the precious area behind his ear. "It looks like it requires a gymnast and at least a year's worth of experience."

  "Okay, so I'll ask you next year. I'm going to write the date down."

  I laughed as he took my face in his hands and kissed me deeply.

  My knees shook from one mere kiss from this man, from this angel turned into man.

  How was he possibly able to demonstrate gentleness, need, strength, love, and desire, all in one ten-second kiss? How can an embrace speak volumes of emotion and passion?

  Feeling the essence of his soul and body as our lips touched caused a feeling in me that was beyond addiction or want. It was like having a sip of Heaven's nectar, one so perfect and sweet that my heart broke upon tasting it, and with every sip I took, I derived more pleasure from it, and therefore could not stop consuming it. His very presence created a need for more of him, a need to be where he was and to look upon his face. I could not, at that point, imagine what making slow, tender love to him would do to my senses, how my world would change from it, as it has already changed from everything we had already experienced together.

  One kiss made me want to do it again, to exchange the breath of life with him. I didn't want to do this too fast. There was so much pleasure to be had in the simplest of touches. It wasn't this way with previous partners I've had, but with him… everything was new and different. Every touch and kiss was sacred and powerful.

  It was almost like I have never been kissed before, like I have never been looked at by a man until his eyes regarded me and held me as special. It was as if my soul didn't quite exist until the beauty and pure intent in his eyes rested upon me, thereby unlocking my soul and granting it the freedom to be alive, to feel, to grow, to be happy.

  I looked at him and shook my head in wonder. I had no idea that he actually existed, this Perfect Man that lived in my head. He was just so beautiful, and the illuminating spirit inside that beautiful body made the entire package heavenly, mysterious, and almost...

  …surreal.

  He stood up and held out both his hands to me by way of offering. I took them and stood up, and we quietly walked to our bedroom. Ree closed the door and sat on the mattress with me.

  The more I touched, looked at, and felt him, the faster my desire for him doubled and tripled upon itself.

  It was torturing me in the most beautiful, precious way. I savored it.

  I looked directly in his eyes, and Ree—who had been watching me—broke into a smile. I smiled back, realizing he was waiting to see if I
wanted to take this encounter farther. I knew that he would never push me into doing anything, which was so sweet of him, considering we'd already made love once.

  But that time had been an explosion of passion. Today was all about our love.

  "Morgan Constantina, I love you, just as I have always loved you," Ree said, as if he could read my mind. "I wish I could explain it better, but… I'm so overwhelmed by you, and by us." Slowly, deliberately, he got up and walked around to the other side of the mattress, sitting next to me comfortably.

  I put my arms around his neck, aware of his tight chest muscles. I pushed him down lightly and rested my face on his beautiful right shoulder and muttered into it, "I love you, Tiberius. I hope you know that." I picked my head up, smiled slyly and added, "And number seventy-eight is just not possible at this moment." We laughed and I kissed him again and, perhaps in a mock battle for control, Ree rolled me gently onto my back, still kissing, and he slowly moved his body so that he was lying over me, legs bent slightly so he could keep most of his weight off me. Regardless of that attempt, however, I could feel the entirety of his lean, hard body.

  I was not merely consumed with passion. What I felt went way beyond that. His body, mind, and spirit created an awesome, unique fire in all aspects of my person. He was already pleasuring me far beyond comprehension, which made it very clear that not only did his body seem to exist to please mine, but that the driving force in his spirit was to ensure my happiness, my needs, and my fulfillment, and my body happened to complement his perfectly.

  Time stood still. I regarded him fondly as I traced the lines of his perfect profile with my finger. Once again I wished desperately that I possessed artistic talent and skill. I would create the perfect replica of this beautiful man, and I would labor tirelessly until the world would be able to look upon my creation and see what I saw in Ree, feel what I felt for him. I nearly wept because such a thing was impossible due to my nonexistent talent and therefore, I had to regrettably admit that I would have to endure his beauty and perfection alone.