A Wicked Beginning Read online

  “Yeah, I know about those programs, having participated in them myself.”

  Cam’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean you were in one of those groups?”

  “Yup, I sure was. I’m a recovering asshole. I used to be a son of a bitch. My first wife left me, thank the stars. I’m glad she got away. Who knows what I would have done?” Mark straightened some papers on his desk. “That was about 15 or so years ago.”

  “What caused you to change, if you don’t mind my asking?”

  “I don’t mind at all. I’m happy to share my story with people. I had a child with my first wife. When the boy turned 12, he saw me hit his mother. I’d always managed to keep my violent nature locked in the bedroom until that point. My behavior, however, had started to worsen and leak out all over the place. One night, I’d had one drink too many and hauled off and slapped Simone – that was her name – I slapped her in the kitchen. That was the last straw for her. She’d had enough of my abuse. She grabbed Bobby and left, right then and there. The look in his eyes – the betrayal, hurt, and rage – I’ll never forget that look.” He picked up the pile of papers that he had straightened, tapped them on the desk and put them back down. “Those eyes haunt me to this day.”

  A silence filled the room as neither man knew what to say next. Finally, Cam asked, “What happened then?”

  “Well, it would have been a good story if I’d changed right then and there, but I didn’t. It was the start of change, though. We got divorced. It was an ugly, heated battle with all my garbage being flung around in court. I deserved every bit of it. I was issued a court order to go to groups for abusers, and I went. I really wanted to see my kid again. I figured I’d blown it where Simone was concerned and wished her well. But Bobby…” His voice trailed off, and he looked at a picture frame propped in the corner of his desk.

  “Did you and him ever…you know…connect again? In a good way, I mean?”

  “We did actually. I didn’t see him for five years. I sent him birthday cards, money, I tried to talk to him over the phone, but he wanted nothing to do with me. Can’t say I blame him. But then, out of the blue one day, I got a call. He wanted to have coffee with me. We met, and he told me he forgave me and wanted to know me. That was the best day of my life.”

  “So do you have a good relationship today?” Cam asked. He was deeply moved by Mark’s story.

  “Well, that’s hard to say. I talk to him every day, but he’s been dead about six years now.” Mark reached up and picked up the framed photo. He held it out to Cam. “That’s my boy, that’s Bobby graduating from college.”

  Cam looked at the bright young man grinning out at him. “He’s a good looking young man,” Cam said. “What happened?”

  “AIDS. AIDS happened. Turns out he was gay. By the time he told me, I didn’t care a bit. All I wanted was to have him back in my life in whatever way he was willing. We managed to patch together a good relationship before he died. I call him my angel of mercy.”

  Cam pushed back his hair with his hand. That story tugged at him, hard. His heart clenched and his eyes wanted to give up water, but he did not let them. He felt Mark’s eyes on him, and he looked over at the man. “I don’t know what to say, Mark. That’s quite a story.”

  “Well, don’t feel sorry for me, whatever you do. I got off lucky. I stopped abusing women, stopped hating myself; have a civil relationship with the woman who should have loathed me and had a great relationship with my son until he died. Now my partner and I are advocates for teens in trouble.”

  “So you got married again?”

  Mark laughed. “Not quite. It’s not yet legal here in Seattle.”

  Cam looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m gay, Cam. That was one of the reasons I was so angry – I was not allowing myself to be myself. My son…my Bobby…showed me the way.” He picked up a picture of a portly man with a short beard. “This is Austin, my partner of 12 years. He has a couple of kids from his confused era so I still have kids in my life. A couple of them have kids of their own. So I’m a grandpa of sorts.” He pointed to all the pictures of children and adults on the back bookshelf. “I’ve got a good life. No complaints here. But let’s talk about the program, shall we? You didn’t come in here to listen to my life story.”

  “No, I didn’t, but I’m glad you told me, Mark. That’s a powerful story. It gives me hope. I’m working on my own stuff, and it’s good to hear from someone such as you. I respect that.”

  Mark smiled. “That’s why I tell the story, to tell you the truth. It helps me winnow out the wheat from the chaff.”

  Cam let out a guffaw. “Did I pass?”

  “You did, actually. I think you’re bona fide, top grade wheat, Cam.” Mark smiled again. “So now…the program.”

  For the next 45 minutes, Cam and Mark talked about the “this and that” of Program Divert. By the time Cam left, he was amped about the program. James was right; it did feel like a good fit. The second he walked out onto the sidewalk he called Chér. “Hey, babe,” he said excitedly. “You were right. This was not only grounding, but I’m jazzed…ready to go. Also, ready to see you again.” God, he could taste her, feel her, as if she were right here. Was this part of the ka’kriyayaga? He didn’t know, but it sure felt electric. “What did you say?” His eyebrows shot up at the sexy suggestion she had just made. He had an instant hard on. “Wait a minute; let me get in the car.” He propped the phone between his shoulder and his jaw, reached in his pocket for the keys, and unlocked the door. Climbing in, he turned the phone on speaker. “Now what did you say you want to do to me?” He listened with a big goofy grin on his face. “Damn, baby, where is this coming from?” He listened again then laughed. “Holy shit, Chér, you are definitely meek no more.” His cock was beginning to throb. “I can’t really take care of this right now, babe. I’ve got to get over to James’ office.” He paused, intent on what she was saying. Then he spluttered, “Oh, you wicked little vixen. Just you wait. I’ve got a few ideas of my own. But right now I’ve got to deal with traffic, you sweet thing, you. I will see you later tonight. Don’t have anything on when I get there.” Hanging up the phone, he felt great. Better than great…his life was getting better all the time. He just hoped he could figure out this star dreamling shit and get on with it. He would find a way. He wanted to experience this life with Chérie for a long, long time.

  Chapter 26 – Angela

  Angela let out her client – the 4th one today – and closed the door to her office. She really liked this office space. It was small, cozy, and well-furnished with gleaming Cherry wood furniture and tasteful art on the walls. The back of the office opened onto a small, private patio with a high fence. Ferns and flowers were planted around the edges of the curved concrete slap which held a small wrought iron table and chair. There were other offices next to hers, but none of them had a patio space. The previous lessor was no doubt a chain smoker such as she was and built the private area to manage his or her addiction. That was her take on the space, at least.

  She removed the clasp from her hair, which had been kept pulled back all day. She liked to keep a proper decorum about her when she counseled. Shaking out her hair, she realized that she needed a cigarette. She pulled one out of her purse and stepped out onto the small patio. There was an ashtray filled to overflowing with cigarette butts on the tiny table which she had better clean up or she was going to go mad. She’d been so busy, she hadn’t taken the time to tidy up. Laying the cigarette on the table, she walked back into the office, pulled open a side drawer of her desk, and removed a foil lined baggy and moist wipe. Walking back outside, she dumped the contents of the ashtray into the baggy. Ugh. Had she really smoked all those today? She was going to have to cut back. She wiped out the ashtray with the towelette, placed it inside the baggy, and sealed the contents shut. She placed the baggy under the table, out of her sight, and picked up the unlit cigarette. Placing it in her mouth, she thought of him.

  She cupped her ha
nd around the cigarette and lit it like she had seen him do. It gave her a thrill to imagine that she was lighting her cigarette the same way he did. This was her little ritual, one of the ways she stayed connected to the man. She inhaled deeply and settled back in her chair.

  Today, she was wearing a slim black skirt, black heels, and a loose pink silk shirt. The shirt was unbuttoned enough so that her cleavage was evident, but not too suggestive. Again, she had to maintain a proper decorum for the clients. But here, in the privacy of her patio, she could do as she pleased. Since the patio backed up to the back of a park, no one could hear her or see her unless they had wandered into this part of the park and people seldom did. She unbuttoned a few more buttons on her shirt and let her free hand stray to her breasts, encased in a stunning French bra by Luxxa. She loved her fine French lingerie. It made her feel sexy and wild. Then, she took another drag and placed the burning cigarette in the ashtray.

  Imagining him, she stood up and unzipped the side of her skirt. She let it fall to the ground, then picked it up, carefully folded it and set it on top of the table, next to the ashtray. Now she was clad only in her Luxxa bra and panties and her fine silk shirt. She tossed her head back and forth, letting the silky strands of her long hair caress her face, imagining it was his hair. How she loved him. She was obsessed by him, intoxicated by him. She wanted him, oh, God how she wanted him. She sat back down on the cushioned chair, spread her legs, and touched the place reserved for him. Soon it would be her menses, and she would perform the ritual and fulfill her dreams. But for now…now she only wanted to connect with him using sex magic, the way Mrs. Primcott had instructed. She fingered herself and brought him to mind, careful to not say his name, even in thought. Her arousal intensified, and she quickly came to climax with a small shudder of release. At the height of the tiny release, she beseeched the goddess Bast, the Cat Goddess of sensual pleasure, and asked her to safely deliver him to her doorstep. Mrs. Primcott had instructed her to use the moment of climax to ask this ancient Goddess, who was said to have the body of a woman and the head of a cat, for favors. Mrs. P. had said that the Goddess would most likely grant a request asked at the time of greatest pleasure. As Angela did this, her elbow hit the edge of the table and she briefly acknowledged a stab of pain coupled with her pleasured release. Nice, she thought. Pain and pleasure.

  With eyes closed, she luxuriated in thoughts of him, continuing to bring to mind the Goddess Bast, imagining that she was a part of the lineage of this Egyptian Goddess. Angela fancied herself to be a goddess in her own right. Goodness, maybe she, Angela Myers, was the Goddess Bast, sent to Earth to claim the man whom she loved. This thought gave her chills. Then she smelled something. Opening her eyes, she saw her skirt smoldering, the cigarette having fallen off the ashtray when she bumped it with her arm. “Oh, my heavens,” she exclaimed. “Oh, my skirt!”

  She ran into the office, pantie clad, and searched around for something to put out the burning fabric. Pulling open drawers of her desk, she spied a bottle of rubbing alcohol. This is liquid, she thought absentmindedly, grabbing the bottle. She ran outside, twisted open the top and doused the skirt. The alcohol ignited and flames shot from the fine linen. “Oh!” Angela cried. She grabbed the edges of the burning material with her polished pink fingernails and pulled it off the table onto the concrete. There was nothing to do but watch her beautiful, expensive skirt burn. She sat down, picked up the cigarette that had done the damage, re-lit it, and watched the skirt burn to charred fibers while she smoked. She felt like a distant observer, detached, removed from the scene. Then, she stubbed out the cigarette, got up, and went back into her office. How could she get out of here? Her car was outside, across the parking lot. She hadn’t found one closer this morning.

  Think, Angela, thing. What would he do in this situation? She could call him and ask him to go pick up a skirt for her. She kept a safety key under the planter outside of her front door. But then no, she didn’t have access to his phone anymore. Well, shoot. This was a little mess.

  She walked over to her desk and flipped through her appointment book. She still had two more clients today. She called each one and left a message that she had an emergency to attend to and would need to reschedule. Then, an idea came to her. Mrs. Primcott had urged her to call if she ever needed anything. She said that since Angela was doing a favor for her, she would be willing to do one in return.

  Angela scrolled through her phone contacts to find the unlisted number for Jill Primcott. When Mrs. Primcott answered, she said, “Mrs. Primcott? It’s Angela. I’ve had a mishap and need to ask a favor. I need someone to bring over a skirt for me.” She listened to Mrs. Primcott’s reply. “I realize you are much larger than I am, but that does not matter. I can wrap your skirt around a few times. I just need to get to my car without being seen in my underwear. What’s that? Long story. Okay. So, you’ll send Mr. Dallas over? I’ll be waiting.”

  There – she’d come up with a solution. Pleased with herself, she hung up the phone and walked outside, baggies and moist towelette in hand, to clean up her mess. Why did it seem she was always cleaning up messes when it came to him and her? Nevermind, he’d be her docile little pet soon. With a smug smile, she wiped the ashtray, sealed the baggy, and lit another cigarette while she waited for Mr. Dallas.

  Chapter 27 – Cam

  A brisk wind was picking up when Cam stepped out of his car in front of the High Road Recovery building. He looked up at the fluttering spring-green leaves of the trees and then glanced at the streaky clouds in the sky. Weather was changing, sure enough. That was life in Seattle. You’d walk out of the house in the morning wearing shorts, glad you brought your rain coat when the rains fell at the end of the day. He walked up the sidewalk and entered the building. When he arrived in James’ office, James was standing in the doorway.

  “I’m all ready for you, Cameron. Come right in.”

  Cam settled into his usual chair. “So, where do you want to start?”

  “Where do you want to start, Cameron?”

  “Not sure.” Cam rubbed his cheek and crossed one leg over the other, propping the ankle of his right leg on his other knee. “I’m in a great mood right now and not too keen on dredging up old stuff.”

  “Well, then, let’s start with your great mood. Is it Chérie?” James smiled.

  “You got that right. I’m in love.” A flood of sensation filled his heart. He diverted his gaze to one of James’ certificates hanging on the wall. “But also, I dropped the paperwork over at Mark’s. He’s a good man.”

  “Yes, Mark Myers is a fine man. He’s gone through a lot, but I really admire him. Hard knocks have shaped him into a man of integrity.”

  “Yeah,” Cam agreed. Then he fell silent.

  “So tell me how it feels to be in love,” James prompted.

  Cam smiled. “It’s great. A little scary maybe…but great.”

  “Tell me about the ‘little scary’.”

  “Oh, you know…” Cam’s foot started moving back and forth. He uncrossed his legs and put both feet on the ground. “It’s scary to be vulnerable.” He scrutinized the floor. “Might get hurt again.”

  “It could happen,” James agreed. “That’s the risk we take when we open our hearts to another.”

  “Yeah,” said Cam, scowling. “But I don’t want to f…to screw this up this time. I’ve never experienced this before. I want to protect her. I feel really possessive of her. That shit scares me.” Never mind the fact that she could kick my butt when she’s in her enhanced state, and she doesn’t really need protection, he added to himself.

  “Those are normal feelings, Cameron. Mating with another brings up primal feelings, as well as enlightened ones.”

  Cam furrowed his brow, remembering something Chérie had said to him back in the autumn after they’d split up – she’d told him she wanted him to mate with the right person. “Mating, huh,” he said to James. “I thought it was called ‘hooking up’.” He smiled.

  “I
believe that’s a casual term used for having sex. What you seem to be experiencing goes a bit deeper, don’t you think, Cameron?”

  Cam looked over at the certificate on the wall again. “Yeah, you got that right, Doc.” He thought about the mind-blowing connection with Chérie. “Anyway…” He paused, trying to think of something to say.

  “Anyway, so how about if you share with me the experience you had about your father? The one you mentioned in the coffee shop?”

  Cam blew out his breath. “It’s pretty twisted. My father was such an ass. I caught him humping my mother when we were on a camping trip. Humping her like a dog. Then he said something to me about letting me watch any time. That that’s how men did it…and then he pulled down my britches and told me to have a go at her…”

  James frowned deeply. “Such a wicked beginning, Cameron! I’m sorry. What did you do?”

  Cam did not say anything. He looked up at the corner of the room, his face furrowed. His leg started working up and down again. Then he said, “After he hit me with the tackle box, I pulled my pants up and got the hell out of there. I ran to the river and floated downstream. I don’t know what happened after that. Probably our little camping excursion came to an end, and we went back home to same old, same old.”

  “So how did that experience make you feel?”

  Cam glared at James. “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No, Cameron, I’m interested in hearing how that made you feel…to remember that experience.”

  Cam exploded from the chair. “How did it make me feel? How did it make me feel? It fucking made me furious all over again at my asshole dad.” He paced around the room. “I experienced so much shit as a child…so much fucking shit…I don’t want to remember it, don’t want to re-live it, don’t want anything to do with it, that’s what.” He stormed back over to his chair and dropped back into it. “All this shit…this rummaging through the past…it just keeps me pinned to a state of rage. How is that useful, James?”