Rebuilding Faith Ch. 13

Disoriented, Faith snapped awake, and then remembered, 'I'm at the Blue Star Inn.'

The bed was empty beside her and there were faint sounds coming from the bathroom. The sky outside was gray and it matched her mood. The aches in her body had found new strength, after being overpowered by the pleasure she'd felt last night.

Faith trudged to the bathroom, impatient for some Tylenol, and thinking, 'No more sex.'

The bathroom was steamy. Holder stood naked shaving his reflection. That was okay, because she was naked too and it only seemed fair. Faith really didn't give a damn if there were ten men in the room -- naked or dressed -- as long as they didn't get in her way.

Holder stopped shaving to look.

'What's he doing? Smiling?' her headache pounded harder from the thought of someone happy at the sight of her.

"Good morning, Sunshine."

"Get real," she grumbled, dragging her fingers across his buttocks as she passed.

Finding the medicine bottle and shaking out two tablets, Faith pushed him out of the way, popped the pills, cupped her hands under the running water, drank them down and moved onto the toilet where she sat and peed.

Then she wandered into the shower. It had seats. 'Great. I'm already tired of standing.'

Adjusting the temperature up beyond hot to sterilize, Faith sat in the spray, waiting for medicinal relief. 'What the hell am I doing here? I should be home. I've got so much work to do.'

Without a word, her naked man with the nice ass entered the shower. He sat down on the other seat and began soaping a washcloth. Kneeling, he began to wash her legs.

That felt kind of nice.

After the initial sudsy application, he apparently didn't like the washcloth and soaped up his hands instead, which felt even better.

Faith just watched -- almost detached.

When her legs were lathered, he brandished a safety razor and began carefully removing the stubble.

Her body tensed.

"Relax, Babe, I know the difference between cutting down trees and trimming limbs." Performing some kind of friction test, he rubbed his smooth cheek against her thigh.

Faith just closed her eyes, ignoring the fear factor, and let the man work unimpeded. Soon, both legs were shorn smooth without blood loss.

"Are there any tools you aren't an expert with?" After all, if he was going to provide full body-mechanic service she ought to know.

"I'm not very good with sewing machines. So don't ask me to make you any clothes."

He began washing the rest of her, with masterful precision.

"You're going to spoil me, Holder." Suddenly her aches weren't so bad. 'Must be the Tylenol.'

"No I'm not. I'm just giving you some tender loving care. Or maybe I'm just taking advantage of your weakened condition." As self-incriminating evidence, he vacuumed one of her nipples into his mouth for a moment, and then demanded, "Get your head wet so I can feel up your scalp."

Faith bent over and rested her elbows on her knees and her jaw on her fists.

First, Bill washed her back and then, pouring shampoo into his palm, his fingers began kneading her not-so-throbbing skull.

She felt the 'not-so' change to not at all.

When the hair was done, he stood and directed the spray to rinse off the soap.

"Okay, Babe, stand up so I can get those hard to reach places." A wicked smile telegraphed his intent, while his soapy hands bubbled over with joy.

Thinking 'Might as well let him finish what he started,' Faith stood up and placed one foot on the seat.

Bill squatted eye level with the dirty bits. Reaching between her legs with one hand, he slowly swiped his fingers down from her spine and onto her buttocks, working them into the cleft. When he reached the bottom he cleansed the area with provocative oscillations. And then, with a fresh coat of soap, he repeated the act for verification. This jack-of-all-trades and master of her body, stood and lingered, soaping up his digits while admiring his handiwork. Pulling her gently against his chest, he turned her back into the spray and massaged her tush, separating the hills to flood the valley.

Faith, weakened by the intimate attention, leaned on him for support, feeling more than just tired. 'Why am I letting him do this? I said no sex. But this isn't really sex...'

A sudsy hand slipped between her legs and it suddenly became sexual. His fingers, disguised as washing machines, plinked clitoral neurons into the spin cycle.

"Mmm," She moaned, lips against his chest.

And then he stopped, turned her into the spray, and fluffed her pubes for a complete rinse. "There ya' go girl. All done," he said, patting her buns on the way out.

Following him, she muttered, "Thanks... I think," and walked into a towel he held open. Then got wrapped, patted and stroked dry.

A robe appeared and she slipped into it.

Bill pointed to the side of the tub, and said, "Sit, so I can comb your hair."

'Why am I acting like such a baby?' She sighed. 'Because it feels so good,' she decided. 'It's nice to be pampered and fussed over. It's nice to be his, and to be without any lofty purpose for a while.'

"Everything all right, Babe?"

"No, but it's getting better," she said, forcing a smile to please him. 'Why do I please him? What does he see in me?' The thought nagged her psyche, until his damp, naked body moved away to dry itself and she enjoyed watching the process. His penis had a little starch in it. There was satisfaction knowing she'd put it there, in an offhand way.

"I'm going to Rochester. Do you want to ride along? I'll be stopping to see my brother and I have to pick up some things from storage. I'll be back late."

This trip didn't sound very appealing, but the idea of spending the day alone didn't either. Irrational fears popped up. Fighting them back, she replied, "You go on. I'll wait here and sleep."

Sulking, Faith left the bathroom and flopped onto the bed, face first. Her head started to throb again.

Feeling ugly, Faith thought, 'Sure, go have fun without me. I don't want anybody to see me like this anyway,' and then chided herself, 'I'm such a baby.'

The bathroom door opened.

She sensed Bill was looking at her. 'I'm such a selfish bitch, laying here, having a pity party.'

The mattress compressed under his weight. His hand rubbed her bottom through the robe, and he said, "I'm hungry. Do you mind if I grab something to eat?"

Keeping her face buried in the quilt, Faith answered with a flat, "No."

His weight lifted from the bed. Without warning, powerful hands gripped her waist, rolled her over and bodily dragged her to the edge. The robe bunched up around her hips and her legs hung down.

Kneeling between her thighs, he said, "Thanks, Babe," and nuzzled his smooth cheeks between her smooth thighs.

She felt his warm breath against her hair. He placed her legs over his shoulders, and plied his tongue easily between her labia, while his hands worked over the top to spread her open. Feeling the tingle of desire growing, Faith said, "No, Bill, stop."

He sprang away from her, apologizing, "I'm sorry, Faith," and covered her with the robe. "I thought after the shower you'd be a little turned on and might like some relief," he laughed softly, and said, "I know it turned me on."

"Is that all I am, a good sport fuck?" Her voice was angrier than she intended, and it felt mean. But it also felt good in a strange way, to strike out and judge his reaction. To test if she could chase him off, and prove she was nothing important, like she felt.

Bill stood, glaring. "That hurt, Faith."

"I'm a bitch. It took you six days to find out. You must be slow." She rolled over onto her stomach to hide the tears. "I need some sleep. My body aches all over. Sex is the last thing I want."

Touching her calf, he said, "Sorry Faith, I shouldn't have pushed. I just thought you were feeling better after last night and..."

"I'll shoot up a flare when I'm ready, Holder," she interrupted, "That way you won't get your signals crossed."

His footsteps sounded quick and determined, striding to the closet. When Faith heard the outside door close, she cried out, "Saving my life doesn't mean you own me!" Then softly, she whimpered, "Sure, just run away. Leave the crazy bitch. You don't need me screwing up your life. Go build a skyscraper to prove what a man you are, not some puny bunkhouse."

Ten minutes later, noises downstairs broke into her brooding funk. Clutching her robe closed, Faith moved to the stairs, and yelled, "Who's there?"

"Sophia, get your scrawny ass down here and eat some breakfast."

Feeling immense relief, Faith answered sweetly, "Coming Mel," letting the robe fall open as she descended.

This was her first visit downstairs. She stopped halfway to study the room. French doors, similar to the upstairs, opened onto a private lakeside deck. A comfy couch and two matching chairs were arranged facing the water. In a corner stood a cabinet where she guessed the TV was hidden. In the back was a small dining area with a fridge and microwave.

Bill stopped setting out food to stare at her, looking seriously miffed and ignoring the peek-a-boo robe. "I grabbed some stuff from the buffet. Take what you want. I'm just going to have coffee."

Leaving the table to stand by the window, he sipped from a Styrofoam cup and studied the view outside.

"Thanks for thinking of me. I don't deserve it." Faith placed a Danish with a red jelly center on a napkin, and put a packet of sugar in her coffee. Stirring absently, she wondered if she could scream without attracting the police. A mirror by the door caught her attention. Seeing only the black and blue marks, she tied her robe closed and sat at the table to nibble the pastry.

After minutes of silence, Faith explained in a contrite voice, "Bill, everything in my life has changed. I'm afraid, all of the time." A short pause and then, "I'm not treating you with the respect you deserve." Tears began to run down her cheeks. Emotions formerly under control, now seemed to ebb and flow without warning.

Bill sat down across the table from her. "Would you feel better at home?"

"Maybe... I don't know," her voice faded.

"Well, think about it. We can leave tomorrow if you want."

"Do you have to go today? Can't you do your errands tomorrow?"

Reaching out, he touched her trembling hand. "I have business to take care of. Tomorrow is Saturday and offices are closed."

"Will you come back?" Uncertainty squeezed her heart. "You're not giving up on me are you?"

"No, Faith. I'm not giving up -- ever," he smiled.

This declaration did little to allay her fears. 'Hadn't he already given up on life before I met him? So what's changed?'

Hurrying around the table, Faith knelt at his feet. "Bill, marry me. Marry me as soon as possible." She babbled on, impulsively, "I can be a good wife." Her hands rubbed the tops of his thighs. "I can't lose you. My head's messed up right now, but I'll get better and I'll make you happy, you'll see." Fearing rejection, knowing how pathetic she sounded and afraid to look at his face, Faith focused on his pants and deftly unzipped his fly.

"Faith..."

"I shouldn't have stopped you, Bill. You saved my life, and I won't ever act ungrateful again," she promised, as her fingers groped inside and dug out his flaccid penis. Mind racing and heart pounding, Faith covered all of it with her mouth, laving the soft flesh with her tongue.

Bill's hands cradled her face and gently lifted. "Faith, stop it," he whispered.

Releasing him, she ran to the couch, ashamed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I don't know what's the matter with me." She fell face down, sobbing.

She heard shuffling footsteps. A hand rubbed her back and in her ear, Bill whispered, "It's alright, Sweetheart. Don't worry. I'm coming back. We'll go home tomorrow and get some help. Okay, Babe?" Kissing her neck, he said, "I have to leave now, or there won't be time to get everything done." Opening his wallet, he added, "Here's a credit card and a calling card, and here's an old business card with my brother's phone number. If you want anything, if you need anything, just get it. I promise I'll be back as soon as I can."

The air around her grew cold when he walked away. Seconds later, the door opened and closed. Faith stayed on the couch for a few minutes, regaining composure.

Feeling vulnerable, she set the dead bolt and chain on the door, walked upstairs and secured the bedroom door. An inner chill made her shiver. Finding her flannel nightshirt, Faith dressed in its warmth and crawled into bed. Curling up, she fell asleep to escape for a few hours.

Shortly after noon, Faith woke up and got dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt. Then wandered downstairs and ate some of the morning's leftovers. Strength somewhat renewed, she opened the Inn's guidebook to find out what the place had to offer besides a nice room. There was a gift shop, gym, laundry, bar and dining room, to provide all of the creature comforts.

Picking up the telephone, Faith used Bill's calling card to phone home. After four rings the answering machine picked up, signaling there were no messages. She hung up pleased. 'At least the phone line has been fixed.' Briefly, she thought about calling her children, but decided it would only alarm them. She planned on being home for their usual Saturday call.

Faith's lethargy was gradually replaced by nervous energy. She began pacing, and thinking, 'what should I do? Get a grip. Take control.'

Putting on the hat and dark glasses, she grabbed Bill's credit card and mustered enough courage to leave the room. She strolled to the lobby where there was a bustle of activity. A handful of weekend guests had arrived early. They were young couples, lovers away for a romantic interlude.

Afraid of literally sticking out like a sore thumb, Faith eased discreetly along the perimeter and slipped into the gift shop. Bottles of wine from local vineyards were prominently on display. 'I should get a bottle for later. Bill might like a glass to relax.'

Unwilling to ask the salesgirl for a recommendation, Faith stood and read the labels, trying to decide.

She jumped when a soft feminine voice behind her said, "The Monroe Cabernet is excellent, if you like a dry red wine."

"Oh, thank you," Faith answered. Her voice sounded tremulous, despite her best effort to stay calm. Glancing back to see who offered the advice, she spied a smiling, attractive blonde.

Smiling, until she glimpsed the bruises. "Is everything okay?" the stranger asked, lightly touching Faith's arm. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Turning back to the display, Faith answered, "Yes, thank you, I'm fine. Just a little jumpy right now."

The woman moved into Faith's peripheral vision, "I can imagine," she said, with concern. "Are you here alone?"

"No, I'm not. But my fiancé is gone away on business, until tonight," Faith answered, feeling self-conscious, nevertheless pleased to have someone to talk to.

"Excuse me for asking but... did he do this to you?"

The distress in the stranger's voice was comforting -- someone cared. "No. Just the opposite in fact, he saved my life."

The woman held out her hand, saying, "I'm sorry for being so nosy. My name is Lucy. I've been down that rough road with my ex, and I was worried you were still on it."

"Hi Lucy, I'm Faith," she answered, shaking her hand. "I'll be fine," qualifying it with, "eventually."

"Okay, have a nice day, Faith," Lucy gave a small wave in departure. Carrying a bottle of Monroe Cabernet toward the cashier, she added, "We're in room 205 if you get lonely and want to chat."

"That's very kind of you, Lucy. Bye." Faith returned to perusing labels. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed someone walk up behind Lucy and rub her bottom. Mechanically, she looked to see what her new friend's companion looked like. A willowy brunette stood with her hand around Lucy's waist. Lucy whispered something and the brunette turned her dark eyes on Faith. The woman smiled and then whispered something in Lucy's ear.

Faith's face grew hot, as she went back to shopping, minding her own business, until they left. Quickly picking up one bottle of white and one bottle of rosé, along with a cheap corkscrew, she paid and then marched back to her room.

Without a conflicted thought, Faith opened the bottle of white and poured a full plastic cup, then gulped down half. After refilling it, she went upstairs with the bottle to sit in the window.

A steady rain fell. The lake rolled with somber waves of gray.

The wine's warm ripples swept through Faith's veins.

The gift shop encounter invaded her musings. 'Lucy turned gay? Was that her answer to physical abuse? Did she change sexual orientation, just to run from men?' Faith couldn't understand it. Men's bodies turned her on. And good men, like Lou and Bill, certainly knew how to make love, and how to make her glad she was a woman.

Grabbing the bottle and cup, Faith left the room and ambled down the second floor hallway. Room 205 was in the north wing, near the end. For a few seconds, she stood still, filled with mixed emotions.

Emboldened by the drink, Faith knocked. Muffled voices penetrated the door and then there was a brief silence. Standing in front of the peephole, she smiled, realizing she'd forgotten the sunglasses and hat. 'Oh well.'

A chain rattled and a bolt turned. Lucy's face appeared in the crack of the door. "Hi, Faith. Is everything all right?"

"Hi, Lucy. Yes, everything's fine. I was just feeling lonely and thought I'd drop by."

Faith was beginning to have fun. Sociology had always been one of her passions, and this was like a laboratory experiment, albeit a tipsy one. Nonetheless, it was taking her mind away from her own problems.

"Have I come at a bad time? I thought I'd visit early before you two got busy." She smiled at the double entendre, knowing Lucy had caught on by the startled look on her face.

'She's a timid woman,' thought Faith.

"Lucy, invite her in. Don't be rude and leave her standing out in the hall," came a decisive, contralto voice from inside.

Faith thought, 'Lucy's traded one domineering mate for another,' and wondered if the abuse had only switched gender.

Opening the door to let her in, barelegged Lucy, wearing a blue silk robe, stood aside, apologizing, "I'm sorry. Come in. We were just... getting comfortable."

"I brought some wine to share," Faith announced, as she stepped in and waited for Lucy to close the door.

"Great, we'll open ours and we can have a little wine and cheese party," Lucy replied, leading them into the room.

Their accommodations were much less opulent than Faith's. The furnishings were comfortable, although the room itself was only one large bedroom with two double beds, a desk, a chair and a television -- homogenous with thousands of other hotels. The window looked out onto the parking lot.

After a momentary pang of guilt, Faith said, "This is a wonderful place, isn't it?" turning to the lissome woman sitting crossed legged on the bed.

Her face was stunning -- oval, with large dark eyes, a button nose and full lips that looked slightly amused. The tank top hung loose on her frame with two hints of nipple poking through. Her lavender panties had a wet discoloration. She showed no uneasiness about exposing it.

Faith knew then that she had interrupted the start of something sexual.

"Yes, this is a great place to get away for a quiet weekend," agreed the woman on the bed.

"Faith, this is my friend, Kate," said Lucy.

Leaning forward, Kate extended her hand, and said, "Hi Faith, you look like hell," with a small appealing grin. The shirt fell open and exposed her small breasts.

"Hi Kate." Taking the offered hand, Faith thought, 'This woman has natural magnetism.' The handshake was warm and soft. "The doctor says in a couple of weeks the bruises will fade and I'll be as good as new."