The Siren

“Study group at Josh’s. I’m helping him with calculus, and he’s giving me his history notes.”

“What are you majoring in, Wesley?” Zach asked politely, trying not to show how unnerving he found Nora’s relationship with her young intern—unnerving and familiar.

“Biochem. I’m premed.”

“That’s wonderful. Your parents must be very pleased.” Zach winced internally at how old he sounded.

“Not really.” Wesley shrugged. “My whole family has worked with horses for generations. They want me to come home and stay in the business. If I have to do medicine, at least it could be equine medicine.” He poured a mugful of coffee and screwed the lid on tightly. “I have this conversation with them every week.”

“I think he should just let me talk to them.” Nora batted her eyelashes at Wesley.

“You,” Wesley said, pointing his finger at her, “don’t exist. So don’t even think about it.”

Nora responded by wrinkling her nose at him in mock disgust.

“What?” Zach said. “Your parents don’t know you and Nora are living together?”

A faint blush suffused Wesley’s face. “There’s a lot they don’t know. They were going to pull me out of school and send me to the state school down there. It was money reasons, the usual, and Nora offered to let me live with her and work for my room and board. They just know I got a job to cover it and a place off-campus. They don’t know what I’m doing.”

“How did you two meet?”

“School,” Nora answered for Wesley. “His school was obviously a little desperate—they asked me to be their writer-in-residence that semester. Wes was in my class.”

“You were her student?” Zach asked, his hands going cold even as he said the words.

“The class met at one.” Wesley smiled at Nora. “I needed to meet my Humanities requirement, and I would have taken anything that let me sleep late on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I’m very flattered.” Nora stuck her tongue out at him.

“I’m very leaving. Later,” Wesley said. He reached for Nora’s mug and she slapped his hand.

“What are your numbers?” she demanded.

“One-seventeen. I can have a sip,” Wesley protested.

“Not on my watch. Drink your coffee black, and keep your hands off my cocoa.”

Wesley feinted to the left and stuck his finger in her cocoa and licked it off as he disappeared through the kitchen door. Zach felt a pang at the easy intimacy between Nora and Wesley. He missed his play-fights with Grace in the kitchen and the bargains they struck to make up. He would cook dinner if she would wear the lingerie he’d gotten her for her birthday. She’d do the dishes if she could be on top tonight…amazing how they both came out victors in those battles.

“So he’s…nineteen?”

“You have a dirty mind, Zachary Easton. Wesley’s as pure as, well, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me that Wesley’s a virgin? The young attractive houseboy of an infamous erotica writer is a virgin?”

“Believe it or not, I do have some self-control. And even if I didn’t, Wes certainly does—apart from sticking his damn hand into my cocoa every now and then. He’s a good Christian kid and I respect him more than I can say for his decision to wait. Mark my words, Zach, I will put the first randy bitch who lays a hand on him in the hospital.”

“And he doesn’t mind what you write? What you do?”

Nora leaned back in her chair. “We made a deal. I can top, but not bottom.”

“Are you secretly a gay man?” Zach eyed her curiously.

“I’m not so secretly kinky. Top and bottom are S&M terms, too. Wes leaves me alone about my sex life as long as I’m not the one coming home with the bruises.”

Zach swallowed. “Did you ever come home with bruises?”

Nora bit her bottom lip.

“I won’t bore you with the whole story of me and Søren,” she said, glancing away. “Let’s just say we’ve got history and leave it at that. Last year, I went to see Søren on the day we consider our anniversary. I do it every year. Can’t stop myself for some reason. Anyway, I had a weak moment. I came home the next morning covered in welts and bruises and with a nice fat lip. Wes was horrified. He started packing.”

Zach winced. The thought of welts and bruises on Nora horrified him, too.

“So you made your deal?”

“Right. If I go back to Søren one more time, Wes is gone.”

“Moving out seems a rather extreme threat. Of course, moving in with you seems a rather odd decision.”

“He’s Methodist. I think he’s trying to save me. Methodists are always trying to save people.”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have feelings for you?”

“He does have feelings for me. Namely irritation, frustration and disgust mingled with amusement. But that’s not surprising since he’s not in the game.”

Zach sympathized with the boy. He had the same feeling for Nora, too. As well as intoxicated, amazed and aroused mingled with petrified.

“You said he was a virgin. How do you know he isn’t like you?”

“K-dar,” Nora said and tapped the side of her nose. “Kinksters can smell it on each other. And my Wesley smells like warm vanilla.”

“Wonder what I smell like.” Zach cursed himself for accidentally speaking the words aloud.

Nora cocked her head at him; Zach’s heart started to race. She rose up out of her chair and slid onto the top of the kitchen table. She stretched across it and put her nose at his neck. Slowly, she inhaled. A slight rush of air whispered over Zach’s skin and he immediately knew what every muscle in his body was doing.

“Not kink. But not vanilla, either. Smells like…curiosity. It killed the cat, you know.”

“Nora,” Zach said in a warning tone. J.P. would yank him off Nora’s book in a heartbeat if he saw them right now.

“S&M is as psychological as it is physical and sexual, Zach. Imagine being as deep inside a woman’s mind as you are inside her body.”

Zach’s hands gripped his mug, still warm from the steaming liquid inside.

“We’re working,” he reminded her, reminded himself. He remembered their photograph in the newspaper; her mouth had been at his ear just the way it was now. If he turned his head only a few inches their lips would meet.

“I write erotica. I am working. Want to earn some overtime?”

“Nora, we’ve got less than six weeks and more than four hundred pages to write. Now get off the table and stop wasting my time.”