Always Belle Ch. 15

(Continued directly from the previous chapter)

"Hi Ken. Come in." Belle kindly welcomed me into her suite's bedroom.

I remained frozen for longer than I should've, trying to read her tone, her body language. She looked at ease, cordial, no pretense or malice in her voice, despite the presumption that I'd just been spying on her from this secret room.

I took a deep breath, then eventually moved my heavy feet, passing through the large rectangular opening in the wall.

I parked myself at a distance, slouching anxiously, sparing fleeting glances to see her watching me. Then I flinched, hearing a whirring noise from behind. The entryway was closing back up, the section of wall mechanically sliding back into place until it was all smoothly flush again.

Belle took note, staying calm. "Well, uh, I'm guessing that secret room is your boss' doing. Leon's always got something tricky up his sleeve, wouldn't you say?"

I'm sure Belle intended for her comment to cut the tension, but I didn't react, unsure exactly how to.

"So how've you been, Ken?" She asked, friendly yet fragile.

My mouth felt taped shut. Why couldn't I speak? My heart was racing so fast, my legs itching to tremble.

Belle then reached into a nightstand to pull out a rolled joint. "Want to smoke this together? Adam gave me it earlier."

I subtly shook my head no.

She looked disheartened, placing the small joint back down on the nightstand, before turning back to face me. "It's been a while. We missed you at my birthday dinner. You doing okay?"

"Yep," I replied, finally able to eke something out. "I've-I've just been busy with—" I stopped myself, fighting against the impulse to cite my job as a reason for not keeping in touch.

She smiled gingerly. "I'm so happy you were able to come to the wedding."

Her words made me think twice. Over the past six months, I knew I had skipped out on several family gatherings, ignored her multiple invitations to hang out, but I guess she thought I may not have even shown up to this milestone event.

Belle's demeanor was measured, pensive. "I really am glad you're here Ken... I was scared, that I'd driven you away or something... You, um, you moved out of the house so quickly. And I'm sorry, if I made you feel like I was forcing you out that night. I think I was just... in a particular mood."

I stared at Belle, trying to put myself in her shoes. Why was she the one apologizing to me?

She continued, "You know, these past couple of months, there'd be days where I'd randomly walk past your room, feeling some impulse to say hi to you. But then I'd open your door. And it'd be empty, obviously, all of your things gone... I thought back on your time with us. It was so brief in the grand scheme of things. Then it started to feel like one big blur. Almost imagined in my head. And that made me sad... Really sad, actually... But also angry."

"You're mad at me?" I asked, fearful.

"No. At myself. That I could've done more."

"More? Of what?"

"I don't know. It just felt like I'd lost you." Her eyes started to well up.

For what felt like a minute, we just sat in complete silence. I think she expected me to say something. Anything. I was at a loss for how to respond. I had my own pent-up emotions swirling inside, but I didn't know how to express them, probably too scared to allow myself to try.

Belle then looked at me, a sadness in her eyes. "Ken... Do you want to... fuck me?"

"What?" I let out, surprised she had actually uttered those exact words.

"You can. If you want to." She spoke with a gentle hesitance, nothing like the seductive persona in her VR simulation.

"I... um..."

"No pressure. I can do the work if you prefer. Or whatever you want," she added, her tone now laced with desperation, trying to find my wavelength.

"Belle, I don't, I don't know if that's a good idea..."

-Ken you idiot! She just offered you her pussy!"

-Shut up! Take a fucking hike!

-Don't tell me what to fucking d—"

-Bye!

Belle stared at me, probably wondering what kind of thoughts were running through my addled brain. As was I, with hers. She was offering herself to me, my discovered spy cam likely top of mind. Her overture felt like a last-gasp effort to reel me up, from the underground bunker I'd isolated myself in, fortified by my guilt and shame. Designed to avoid her.

Finally, Belle reacted to my prolonged silence, a mortified look on her face. "Shit, what am I doing! I'm so stupid! Please ignore that. I'm so sorry Ken."

Belle looked crestfallen, embarrassed, and flustered all rolled up into one. I didn't like seeing her this way. Felt like I was leaving her emotionally high and dry. She didn't deserve to shoulder my bullshit, on this day of all days.

A courage within me then catapulted to the surface, convincing me it was time to finally come clean. I cleared my throat to speak, "No Belle, I'm the one who's sorry... For putting that camera. In your bedroom."

I turned my eyes down momentarily, afraid of her reaction. But I swiftly brought them back up, giving her eye contact, letting her know that I was being wholly apologetic.

Belle had a tiny close-lipped smile. Whether it was because of my apology itself, or because I was finally willing to connect with her. Either way, she looked pleased, simply looking at me, dabbing the corners of her wet eyes with a thumb.

"Ken, I still have it you know. That tiny black circle."

"You do? I would've thought you destroyed it."

"Why would I do that?" She responded, sounding baffled. "It looks expensive. You must've paid a lot for it."

Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, that Belle hadn't stomped the shit out of my spy cam at some point, despite having every right to do so. She really was something else, a kind-hearted soul.

I felt the itch to ask, "Belle, have you been sending me notifications throughout the day?"

"What do you mean?"

"Through the Seelby Maps app."

"Since when does Seelby have a Maps app?" She genuinely looked flummoxed.

"Leon didn't give you access to the beta version?"

"Ken, are we even speaking the same language?" She chuckled. "Must be what happens after us not talking for so long." She looked so lost, so helplessly earnest.

"Um, you know what Belle, maybe I will smoke that joint with you after all," I awkwardly backtracked, changing the topic.

"Yeah? Okay!" She leaned forward with enthusiasm. "Come sit with me on the bed. We've got a lot of catching up to do."

***

I innocently joined Belle atop the mattress, sitting cross-legged facing her, me in my pajamas, her in her light pink nightgown.

She lit Adam's joint, puffed, then passed. I did the same, praying that this weed would bring us closer to some mutual understanding.

She spoke first, "How's Eva? Are you still with her?"

"We're good. Closer than ever actually. But I miss her a lot. She's in Rio de Janeiro, recording vocals for Enzo's next album."

"Oh fun! That's right, he mentioned flying here straight from Brazil. Well, that's so wonderful for her! And how about you, how's Seelby? Is Leon working you to the bone?"

"My workload's been alright. I should probably detach from it a bit."

"Would sure love to see you over the house more often. Colin and your Uncle Frank are always asking about you when they're over."

Belle's mention of Uncle Frank felt like we were veering ever closer to the hard-hitting questions. Luckily, she anticipated and got ahead of it. Belle finished the last of the small joint, then put it out on an ashtray on the nightstand.

"Listen Ken, about what you saw months ago, on your tiny camera... Just know that I love my husband... You understand that, right?"

I soaked in her sincerity, knowing her words were truthful.

She continued, "Do you have any questions?"

I sucked in a long inhale, summoning the strength to bring unknowns into the light. "Belle, can I ask you something about Uncle Artie's party? The day I first moved in."

"Please," she warmly encouraged.

"I admit, I was high off my ass in the basement that night, lying under the pool table. At some point, I noticed you and someone had walked in. Then you two started, um, getting intimate." I stopped there, letting her react to my admission.

"Ah right, I remember," she said, not reacting negatively to the implication that I had basically spied on her.

"Um, who were you with?" I nervously followed up.

"Your uncle, of course."

"Uncle Frank?"

"No silly!" She chortled.

"Uncle Artie?" I shot back, incredulous. "But the guy's shoes were black. Uncle Artie was wearing gold loafers that night."

Belle took note of my astute observation, letting seconds tick by, then delivered a knowing smile my way. "Your uncle hates those gold shoes. He's said they aren't comfy for dancing. I'd bet he probably took them off briefly, then put them back on again at some point."

"Oh..."

Belle intriguingly stared at me, carefully measuring my reaction. "Ken, why do you look so disappointed?"

"I uh, I guess I just never thought that 'the basement guy' was Uncle Artie this whole time."

Belle seemed amused at my arbitrary label for the mystery man. "Did you want it to be your Uncle Frank?"

"Um..." I paused, trying to form a coherent response.

"Or I guess," she briefly paused as well. "Who did you want it to be?"

What a loaded question. Never in a million years did I think we'd even be having this conversation. Belle's phrasing was leaving it open-ended for me to answer, her honest attempt of understanding me more deeply, I surmised.

She added, "Did you imagine it was some other man at the party?"

I cleared my throat once more. "Honestly Belle, I think I imagined the basement guy was whomever I needed him to be, whenever I felt an urge to mast—" I involuntarily censored the last word of my sentence. "Um, so yeah..."

She took a moment to process my unfinished confession, lending me a kind expression. "Okay. My turn to ask something now?"

"Sure," I said, a bit nervous what sort of secrets I'd feel compelled to reveal.

"Did you really have a poster of me in your bedroom? When you were in high school?"

"It was a long time ago," I tried to downplay its importance.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, Ken. And did you... touch yourself... to my poster?"

I took a second, releasing an exhale to gather my resolve. Then I looked squarely into her blue eyes, nodding my head. "I guess I did."

"A lot?"

"Um, well, I had a lot of hormones."

"That's okay. Natural," she said warmly.

Belle's response felt like chicken noodle soup for my degenerate soul. She chose not to tease me in this extremely vulnerable moment—something I deeply appreciated. It made me feel comfortable enough to ask my next question.

"Belle, would you be angry if I told you... that I saw you and Ox? At his barbecue."

She stared at me, surprised, letting my disclosure sink in, taking a long time before responding. "I see... And did you enjoy it? What you saw?"

"Um... Yes." I bravely admitted.

She spared me a gentle smile. "Okay. Now I'm curious... Were there other things you've seen?" She wondered aloud, a neutral tone.

Feeling braver now, I proceeded to share with Belle select instances that I'd witnessed her with other men: Adam in the pool house, Enzo at the beach, Seb at his restaurant.

"Wow Ken... My new nephew's quite the voyeur." She couldn't help but giggle, seemingly in disbelief that I'd known about these other affairs.

"You're not mad at me? For being a spying perv?" I asked, seeking absolution.

"Your kinks are relatively tame, trust me," she tenderly comforted.

"But that story you told me and Uncle Frank, at that Mexican restaurant, about that creep that recorded you in your hotel room..."

"Hmm, well, did you record me those other times you watched me?" She followed.

Shit. I had painted myself into a corner. Fuck. But I couldn't lie now. "I'm sorry Belle... It was only for personal use." I could feel my face heating up in shame.

She sprouted a small frown that she quickly wiped away. "But I guess there's a difference though, Ken," she added, as if there was a silver lining to my sins. "You didn't try to blackmail me."

"I'd never do that," I affirmed.

"I know you wouldn't." She spared me a small smile.

"And only I rewatched them, I promise."

"I know. I trust you Ken. You're okay." She smiled wider now.

Thank god. I exhaled a sigh of relief, a heavy weight starting to crumble off my shoulders. My vision felt anew, this room suddenly imbued with brighter colors.

With the walls between us seemingly broken down, I wanted to ask Belle more pointed questions about what she really knew or didn't.

"Belle, in Paris, when you returned my sunglasses to me, did you really not know I had spied on you with Rodrigo and Enriqué?"

"Wait, you saw me that time too?" Her mouth opened in shock.

"Seriously, you didn't know I did?"

"Nope."

"But you found my sunglasses with my... gunk on them. You said you cleaned it off."

"Your cum? I thought that was just crusty bird poop," she laughed, getting my baffled ass to do the same.

Belle then abruptly stood up. "You just reminded me Ken, stay right here! I have something for you." She hurriedly left the bedroom, returning to me a minute later with a folded piece of clothing. "Sorry, I didn't have time to wrap it or anything."

I unfolded the fabric, realizing it was a vintage collector's edition Real Madrid jersey. Enrique's name was on it, a special message inscribed in permanent marker right below it: To #1 fan Ken. -Enriqué.

I was so taken by the gift that I instinctively lunged forward to hug her, making her topple backward on the bed. I immediately helped her up, apologizing for being too excited, which she could only laugh about.

She then explained, "I went to Madrid for a shoot not too long ago. I was able to watch a game there, in that gigantic stadium! It was so much fun! I wish I could've taken you, you would've loved it!"

"Why didn't you?"

"Um, you weren't answering my texts," she delicately divulged.

"Oh... right..."

"That's okay, that's in the past now. Next time, you're definitely coming with me okay?"

I rapidly nodded my head, then suddenly remembered something else I'd also wanted to ask. "Belle, after the Real Madrid match we saw in Paris, were you actually inviting me... to watch you and Enriqué? In his hotel room?"

Belle burst out in a hearty cackle. "Oh my god Ken, you're too much! I can't!" She huffed, struggling to breathe.

"Wait, what? Why are you laughing?" I replied with a smile, bemused by her reaction.

She caught her breath, "Sure, I did invite you. But just to meet your favorite player. Then I would've sent you in a taxi back to Vi's apartment. I'd probably make up some excuse for why I had to stay behind."

"You're kidding me..."

"Ken, I wouldn't have scandalized you like that, silly."

"But hold on, this doesn't square with that time when we were in Italy! At that nightclub in Porto Cervo, you had 'invited' me to watch you hook up with Viktor!"

"I surely did not," she staunchly replied, a half-smile in tow.

"Yeah you did!" I returned, honing in on the specifics, "When I left that private room, I walked down the stairs and found that napkin you had to have left for me! The one that Viktor gave you, with the five-digit door code. You had threaded it through the hook that held up the velvet rope. Why would it be there, if not for me to see and use?"

"Oh. There probably wasn't a trash can nearby to dump the napkin. And I don't remember my dress that night having any pockets."

"But so you just remembered that five-digit code when we got to the door?"

"Well, we got in, didn't we?" She sassily returned. "I'm pretty good with numbers, what can I say."

"You're lying!" I playfully accused her, poking her bare knee.

"How dare you Kenny," she smiled, poking me back. "Wait, so that means you saw me with Viktor?"

"Plus Sol!" I stamped. "Okay but the next day, there was Alessandro, our Italian driver! You spilled your coffee in his car on purpose."

"Why would I damage someone's property? That'd be so inconsiderate."

"But then you used the same napkin with that five-digit code! To wipe your coffee off of his backseat."

"Oh, did I? I guess I did pick the napkin back up. Maybe I felt guilty for littering?" She sounded so earnest, trying to recall the memory.

"You had to have seen my rip in the napkin though."

"I promise you Ken, you're the only person in the world that cares about napkin rips," she needled me.

Still unconvinced, I moved on to try and one-up her, "And what about that athleisure company email you'd told me to look out for? For that potential endorsement."

"Uh huh, what about it?"

"It wasn't real. You were giving me a clue about something else," I insinuated, trying to dance around the edges of Ned's email invitation to Castle Slate.

She pressed me to elaborate, "Me giving you a clue? About what?"

I didn't take the bait. "That athleisure company email, I just know it never came!"

"It sure did. I can show it to you if you want," she challenged me, reaching for her phone.

I impulsively snatched her device on the bed before she could, getting her to try and wrestle it from my grasp. I successfully evaded her swinging arms, standing up on the bed to withhold it from her.

"What are you going to do with that Ken?" Belle playfully taunted.

"Maybe I'll check your messages, your photos! What other secrets would I find in Auntie Belle's phone?"

"Ew, don't call me that, that sounds so weird!" She laughed, acting disgusted. "But by all means, go ahead Ken. I've got nothing to hide."

Belle then recited her phone's passcode, the same one I had committed to memory long ago, which let me know that she wasn't lying—at least about her passcode.

I ultimately refrained from prying, handing her device back to her, tacitly calling for a truce. She was all smiles, enjoying our newfound banter.

Belle and I rosily chatted more, with me refraining from mentioning that I knew she had hooked up with both my boss and my girlfriend's dad. In that same vein, I for sure wasn't going to mention anything about her night-long affair with Colin in Swantree Lake. That seemed like a bridge too far for me to cross. At least for tonight.

All in all, I couldn't totally be sure whether or not Belle was being completely forthright. Was Uncle Artie really the basement guy? Probably. But maybe not. And those other instances I'd cited? She had to have known about my voyeuristic pursuits, so said my instincts.

But why she wouldn't cop to my allegations now, I wasn't sure. Maybe it was her weird way of protecting me from feeling further shame for my spying. Or more likely, maybe she just relished having a reason to fuel our fun back-and-forth. In any case, my stubborn resolve was softening by the second.

I suddenly felt like Leo's character at the end of Inception, where the real truth didn't matter to me anymore. I was happy to ignore the spinning top, content with the reality now presented before me: That Belle and I were talking again. And that, more than anything, felt right.

Staring at her now, I was left admiring the finer details of her features. Sunkissed dots, faintly sprinkled across her cheeks. Blue eyes, cool as crystals. Golden locks, a shimmery honey glaze. All natural, all sculpted to perfection. Just like I'd always remembered.

***

"Ken..." She sat relaxedly on the bed, arms outstretched behind her, leaning back. "I've missed this. Hanging out. Talking to you."

"Me too Belle," I reciprocated.