Page 36 of Rainshadow

“Ethan,” she said, looking up at him with misty eyes. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t. Thank you.”

“Thank you for everything,” he said. “You’ve been very good to us, Sylvia and I.”

Flora looked at Sylvia then, but the other woman only gazed off into the distance, vacant of emotion or expression.

Later, in her bedroom, Flora opened the final box.

Inside it was a collection of lingerie, a dozen pairs of black silk panties, an assortment of bras, all in black, gray, and wine-red, and a silk and lace chemise in black. It was all simple, tasteful, and felt very, very expensive. Flora picked up one piece at a time, running her fingers over the lace, even holding them up to her lips they were so soft and finely woven. She had never seen anything like these luxury pieces anywhere on Anderson Island.

Flora took a long shower, then slid on a pair of the black panties and the chemise. She found a matchbook in the nightstand drawer and lit a candle that rested by the bed, unused, then brought it to the guest room vanity. Then she sat, gazing at herself in the vanity mirror and brushing her long hair. She had always thought she was plain, especially compared toher beautiful mother, but now she saw her full lips, her large eyes, and her youthful, pale skin and admired herself. Ethan, the most handsome man she had ever seen in her life, thought she was beautiful, so how could she not be?

When the quiet knock on the door came, she realized she had been waiting for it, expecting it. She turned, eyes shining, as Ethan slipped silently through the door.

“Flora,” he said in that deep, resonating voice. He looked at her with those luminous eyes, biting his lip as though he could not contain his attraction to her.

“Ethan,” she said, standing. She had never felt more sexy than she did then, in that silky chemise that showed off her every slope and curve, her pert nipples, her flat belly. She imagined herself through Ethan’s eyes, comparing herself to Sylvia. Sylvia had been a beauty once, perhaps, but now she was loosening, dimpling, and Flora knew her own body must only be more beautiful in contrast.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan said, closing the door behind him with a muted click. “I’ve been wanting to come down here, to see you. I couldn’t wait any longer. But it can only be a visit between friends, of course.”

“Of course. Thank you for everything,” Flora said.

“It must have been very hard for you,” he said, “to lose everything. I only wanted to ease your pain, ease your burden.”

“It hasn’t been that hard,” she said, gazing into his eyes. “Knowing I had a place here, knowing I wasn’t on my own.”

“No,” Ethan said, his voice deepening. “You’re not on your own. I will take care of you, Flora.”

“What about Sylvia?”

“Sylvia,” Ethan breathed, as if just remembering her. “I can’t send her away, Flora. I simply can’t. She relies on me, just as you now do. We will find a way to be with one another when we can.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for, but she knew she shouldn’t press the issue. “That’s fine,” she lied, still gazing into Ethan’s eyes, letting him draw her further and further in.

“I want to touch you,” he said. “But I shouldn’t. I’ve already gone too far, done too much.”

“You can touch me,” she said, and her voice sounded husky, filled with need. “I want you to touch me.”

“Flora,” he said, his eyes shining. “You’re so innocent. I can’t touch you. It would be wrong. Not just because of Sylvia?—”

“Why then?” Flora pouted, crossed and uncrossed her arms, trying to look as attractive as possible.

“Because I’m not a man, not like you think. Not a good man, anyway. I’m a monster.” His eyes were pleading.

“A monster?”

He closed his eyes and swallowed as though gathering strength.

“A monster because I lied to Sylvia when I told her I would love her forever. I don’t love her anymore, but Flora, I swore that I would!”

She rushed to him, put her arms around him, brought him close for a kiss. At first he resisted, not kissing her back. When he did, yielding and opening his mouth, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her close, she was elated. She would make him hers. She would show him that he deserved the kind of real love that she could give him.

“Come to bed with me,” she whispered, pressing her mouth to his lips.

He kissed her back, slipped his tongue into her mouth. She shivered, needing him. His hands roved, lifted the chemise to slide over her belly, her breasts. He said that this would be a friendly meeting, but his hands didn’t hesitate, didn’t tremble. They betrayed his intentions as surely as if he’d said he loved her.

In bed, he seemed to curl around her, on top of her, all around her. She rolled him onto his back and climbed on top of him, rocking against the hardening in his soft trousers, gazing down at him, imagining how beautiful she must look. He did look up at her like she was the most beautiful woman in the world, his hands sliding up the satin fabric to cup her breasts, pulling her close, kissing her again as he pressed himself into her.

“Let me help you,” she said, sliding down and helping him take off his pants. He peeled off his own T-shirt and she was struck, marveling anew at his spectacular body, the way his stomach rippled when he sat up on his elbows to look down at her.

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