Chapter 7: Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine

"Miss Sherwood." My boss's voice disseminated through the small speaker perched upon my desk.

"Miss Sherwood? I need you for a moment."

"Miss Sherwood…"

Hot breath on my palm. Masculinity just radiating from his entire, magnificent being. Dark orbs capturing my eyes. The striking contrast of poetic colors that painted his body in ways that bewitches an artist's eye. The brown features against the smooth, porcelain skin…his fingers so strong, yet so soft against mine…and then his lips, the color emanating a slight pinkish hue, brushing against my palm before pressing firmly to its warm center…

"Miss Sherwood, if you wouldn't mind shifting your attention away from the wall and back to wonderful reality, please." My head snapped up from its previous comfortable resting position on my hand. Mr. Willard, my boss, was standing in front of me, his grey eyes peering downcast through his reading glasses.

"Mr. Willard- I am so sorry…I must be just…" I was unable to finish the sentence as I straightened my skirt and fiddled with the many papers on my desk.

"…Distracted?" Mr. Willard prompted, and I nodded blushingly. He must be thinking exactly what I was thinking: Dumb blonde.

Immediately though his eyes, wrinkled from years of smiling, crinkled once again. "That is alright, Miss Sherwood, quite alright indeed. I myself become distracted at times. It is quite easy to divulge oneself into other matters even when something else is happening at the present time. However!" He swayed in that joyful, old man way that I had come to love in my boss. He was just so happy, all the time. And even when he wasn't, he could always bring a smile to my face. "We do, unfortunately enough, have some other matters to take care of…"

I found myself smiling on that last thought before realizing he was reminding of our little field trip planned today. Jumping from my desk and gathering my things, I said, "Of course, sir! Right behind you."

Mr. Willard chuckled as I fell into step with him, our destination being the court room. My boss was representing a man who owned a diner within the city. One night, a couple woman had conned him into thinking they wanted his 'special attention,' before leering him into the alley and consequently mugging him. I took my place in the court room, seated near Mr. Willard. I watched the whole thing play out. It was almost like a play…or an orchestra concert. And my boss, the conductor. The accused sat down in their seats. Mascara cascaded in black, oozy blots down their faces, and their current attire did not help their case at all. Not like they could help it; they'd been in a jail cell all night long. However, I couldn't help wincing as I saw one of the women try to shimmy her pencil skirt down far enough so she could cross her stiletto-clad feet. I'm not a feminist, but come on, ladies! Get some class.

Awhile later, one of the accused got up for questioning. Mr. Willard also stood up, turning to hand me a couple papers before giving me a wink. I shook my head, willing myself not to laugh. In the bag! My boss has been to this kind of rodeo before.

It was always the same thing. Being the incredibly intelligent, generous, and joyous man that he was, my boss would attack a person with his greatest weapon: kindness. And his overflowing words of comfort and, dare I say it, love.

I watched, amusingly entranced, at this well seasoned practice. Willard gently asked for information from a very unwilling "Miss Green," then made a few jokes that only a well trained ear could detect, (the judge and several of the jury would chuckle along with me,) and as soon as the smeared tears begin to form, he magically conjured a handkerchief from his suit's breast pocket. Miss Green nodded her head in response to Willard's questions while simultaneously blowing her nose and her own case. I sighed. Whoever the opponent is, they never stood a chance. This man is just too good.

I shook my head, ready to zone out. Done deal, nothing more we can do here. It was Miss Green, though, who caught my attention through her teary blubbering.

"We-we didn't do it on purpose. I mean…" Sniff. "With all that's going on around the city, what with the constant killings…me and my sister, Lacy…we just got desperate! Just a couple nights ago, my friend Tito told me, he says, he says-" She blew her nose. "He said that he saw a couple girls go into a club with this guy…and they didn't come back out of the private room! I knew one of them, too…" She seemed to calm herself down, now, and her eyes focused on someplace else, like she was seeing what she described. I frowned and looked to Mr. Willard. He, also, wore a grim expression as he gently patted her hand before ending his part in the court case.

On our walk back to the office, I decided to talk with Mr. Willard about my feelings towards these crazy murders. I felt…terrified. I remember a time when I was fifteen and decided to stay home on a weekend when my family went to New Hampshire. Well, let's just say that I did watch scary movies and forgot to turn on all the lights, which is a bad combination when you're alone in the first place. And when a cat outside landed on a garbage can and knocked it over, I was petrified and called the police. That similar feeling was bubbling up in my stomach. Fear has a way with my body. My muscles clamp up, my palms become sweaty…and my stomach becomes Butterfly City. I knew I should talk to Sheila about this sort of thing, since she gets paid for it and all, but in all honesty, I felt more comforted by Willard than anybody else in the office.

"Sir," I prompted, trying to keep up. For an older man, this guy could power walk. "Hmm?" Wilson asked, fumbling through papers. He doesn't even look where he's going! I thought, but then surmised that it probably didn't matter anyways. A wall would move itself before daring to be where James Willard wanted to walk.

"I just wondered…if you knew anything about these killings? I mean I'm…I'm…a little freaked out, to tell the truth." He halted in this tracks. I caught the stack of papers that slid from my arms from the sudden stop.

"The murders in the city?" Willard asked gently, and I nodded in response. He sighed, the grim look back. I preferred his normal jolly expression better. His grey eyes looked down into mine. "These things cease with time. The authorities will soon catch the culprit, and all will settle into place once again." I relished in these comforting words. "What you need to worry about, Miss Sherwood, is keeping sure that you are safe. No going out after late hours, no matter who accompanies you. You do not seem the partying type, however…" I smiled softly at this despite myself, eliciting a small one of his own. He continued, "I would advise that you keep that trait untainted, at least during this crucial time. Keep your doors locked and your neighbors close. You do have good people around you, correct?" He knew, of course, that I was new to this city and neighborhood. I thought about that question. I needed protection, as does everyone else. I thought of what that word, protection, meant to me: strong, able arms…powerful, magnificent, but still gentle enough to hold me so carefully….

"Yes, yes I do," I replied to Willard, willing the cloudy reverie of thoughts that plagued my mind whenever anything reminded me of him. Jerry, the man who hasn't left me for a single moment…even though he did leave me on my doorstep the previous night.

Satisfied, Mr. Willard began his brisk walk again toward his office. I closed my eyes before sitting in my chair, my hand resting on its back. "It seems, though…you do have someone watching over you," Willard said, and my eyes opened immediately. I hadn't expected him to still be standing there.

"What do you mean, sir…?" My eyes followed his gaze, the old jolliness back in his eyes. On my desk rested a single black rose, clad in a red ribbon. Exactly like the one from my painting. Words tried to work their way out of my mouth, but they failed miserably.

My hand moved on its own accord. My ears and consciousness started to tune out everything else around me, giving it an unimportance, an insignificance; a slow, humming haze that didn't affect me at all. I touched the soft petals and their beautiful color. My finger traced down the stem and the stunning, crimson ribbon that adorned it. The feeling was familiar of being captured by something so radiant; it brought me back to reality.

"What is that?" Sheila's head poked from around the corner of my cubicle. More people were staring now, some vaguely curious, others hiding knowing smiles. Much like Sheila and Willard had right now. I glanced back at the rose then, almost embarrassed.

I hesitated. "Just, um…a gift?" I knew what they would ask next. And I also knew the answer. Yes, I knew who the rose was from. There could only be one. My family had liked the paining, and so had Abby, and the art teacher overlooking the assignment at the time; but none of them had sent this.

"You sure you didn't send it to yourself?" Sheila lowered her voice, and I shook my head in confusion. "Hm. Well, every girl does it at least once. I've got at least ten bouquets sent to my office every couple weeks. Keeps the fellas on their game." Sheila turned and walked away. Willard winked and left as well. I glanced back down at the flower and tried to get back to work without disturbing it.

However busy I tried to keep myself, my mind was plagued and eyes branded with the image of the black rose sitting not two inches away. I had been trying desperately to distract myself all day from him, but now with this rose was a constant reminder. Did Jerry really send it? And if he did, why? Did he simply like the painting and saw this in some store? Or…something else. Could he possibly…return my feelings?

I've known. I knew the second I saw him. These things just don't happen every other day. My slow brain might not have processed it at first, but I know now. There is no way around it; I am in love with this man. I am in love with Jerry.

I love the way he looks at me, how the stark brown eyes soften when they glance into mine. His natural beauty. That smile that makes my heart pound both faster yet slower all at the same time. His easy going character and…the way he touched me. Something in my mind clicked. If this rose was what I thought, and hoped meant, I was going to do something about it. Jerry had to know.

I looked at rose and at last picked it up. The smell was still so lovely. I was sorry to neglect it for as long as I did. Placing it in an old water bottle, I glanced at the clock. Five minutes until six.

I gathered my things and gently plucked the rose from the bottle. Lightness bounced in my step as I said goodbye to my co-workers and Mr. Willard. I tried to not run to my car. My heart pounded and speeding proved to be difficult not to do once I got onto the rode. I smiled and laughed and barely heard what was on the radio. I was in love.

The sun was going, expelling a new day, bringing back the night. Gigantic clouds were rolling in from the west, promising rain. Not like I noticed much of this. I barely had enough common sense to slow down for pedestrians when my car pulled into the neighborhood. Biting my lip, I pulled not into my own lot, but alongside Jerry's curb. I checked the mirror fleetingly before getting out and forced myself not to run up to the door. I took one, forced, shuddering breath before knocking and waited for about five seconds before it was opened…and there he was.

The next breath I took was slow, leveled, and ended with a smile. Because all I've ever wanted, ever needed, ever hoped for, was standing right in front of me. Jerry smiled back and my heart beat escaladed like its never done. He was wearing that white wife-beater again from the very first day I saw him. I moved closer, wanting to never be far away again.

"Hey," was all he said. My smile grew softer and I repeated the greeting back to him, only softer, full of meaning. Jerry's grin also softened, and he continued, "Do you want to come in?" I nodded, thinking yes, yes, but couldn't open my mouth.

He let me in and I walked through the threshold, not leaving his gaze for one second. He led me further into the house, into the kitchen. I wondered if he missed it when our hands brushed for a second. Once at our destination, only a few feet separated us. He spoke, "Did you get my rose?"

My heart leapt again, even though I knew the truth before. It was true. Jerry had sent the flower, the message, with meaning only he could understand.

I nodded again in answer. "Yeah, I did." My voice was so small, my smile leaving my face, my legs propelling me forward. I stopped right in front of him. He looked at me, waiting, wondering what I would do, what I would say. My breathing grew both harsher and softer at the same time. I closed the distance again, my chest brushing against his, my hands reaching up to cup his cheek and gently entwine in his hair. Jerry's hands came to the small of my back, pressing me to his body. Standing on my tip toes, I came closer than I ever was to him, and looked right into his eyes. Those eyes that stared into mine, that had watched my every careful step, that had flickered to my parted lips.

I chose, then. I chose right then and there. To give myself entirely to this man, because he was both simply and incredibly my…everything. Shock and warmth rattled my body and soul when I said, right there, in his arms, against his lips, "I'm in love with you." The terrifying and beautiful truth of it all sent an electrical jolt throughout my body. I felt him beneath my fingers, the porcelain skin so soft and smooth, the stubble on his cheek, the thick dark hair, the firm, toned body on which I was pressed onto. And his wonderful aroma that drifted into my lungs and filled me with him.

I gently pulled him towards me, but no force was needed. With one last look upon his face, I closed my eyes and felt his breath upon my lips before I pressed them upon his. All the times I had imagined them, wanted them, and looked at them didn't prepare me at all for the shock of his kiss. No space was left between us. Jerry pulled me in close as he gathered my dress at the small of my back into his hands. Our lips separated only to be gently and slowly joined again. My fingers left his hair and his cheek to rest upon his chest, my left covering his heart. Jerry slowly pulled his lips away, and pressed his forehead to mine. I smiled softly up into his eyes, which burned into mine as he covered my hand with his own.

"I love you," he said, low and breathtaking. I closed my eyes. The hand still holding my back left to touch my cheek. His thumb traced across and left a bit of wetness behind. I opened my eyes, a little confused, because I had no idea it was my own tears. He was smiling though, and I touched his lips, smiling back. Soon both his hands were upon my face, tracing an eyebrow, sweeping across my cheek, soft as a feather; and finally, across my lips. My breath hitched and those same lips were soon covered with his own.

Jerry's soft ministrations stilled during our kiss, and an arm reached down and hiked my body up. I gasped and wrapped my legs around him, which sent a bolt of shock down my spine, but he let out a soft groan against my lips. I stared at him in wonderment before his lips trailed down to my neck and breathed there. I shivered as the hot breath was replaced by tender lips. My hands reached from his shoulders to his head, now at my level; and once again intertwined my fingers through his hair. Soft rain started to tap quietly at Jerry's black windows. He pulled back from pressing his lips delicately against my throat. My gaze burned into his, and his legs started walking forward.

Our lips met again and again as he walked up the stairwell. My body barely shifted at all as our bodies were flush together, his hold never letting me go. I barely noticed anything but the magnificence of his touch until my back met the soft shift covering his bed. I opened my eyes to see Jerry hover over me, between my thighs, eyes searching for mine. I smiled up at him and cupped his cheek to pull him in for another kiss. His fingers traced my hand before pulling it away and down to press against his shirt. I looked questioningly at him before realizing what he wanted of me. Again I smiled, and took my other hand to the hem of the wife-beater and lifting it up. What it left behind made me breathless. Jerry's body was so beautiful… I couldn't help but stare. Toned muscles covered his chest and stomach. Jerry must have noticed my slow progress, because he chuckled and took the shirt from my hands and yanked it over his head. He then came closer, hovering over me once again. I returned his grin, but blushed as I lifted my hands to feel his chest. He sighed and again returned his lips to my neck. My breathing started to get heavy as my hands gently roved over the skin that was new to my eyes. I sighed and gasped as his lips pressed and traced over my thundering pulse point, and shivered when his tongue delved into the small cleft of my collar bone. Jerry glanced back into my eyes before I sat up, meeting his lips and guiding his hands to the buttons of my dress.

His eyes roved over my body, but slowly- taking everything in and finally resting upon my eyes. All of our clothes were strewn somewhere else, someplace not worth knowing. Our bodies, once entwined, slowly moved together, gently taking, lovingly giving. My eyes only left his when his lips covered mine. I felt his breath, his love, his touch and gave into it willingly, completely. The rain outside was now falling freely, creating a noise that almost drowned out sighs, groans, soft moans that echoed throughout the room. I whispered his name with abandon, softly saying I love you in his ear when his gentle pace quickened. Ecstasy and fire consumed me and blackness threatened to overtake me as I clutched onto his back, his neck, his hair; our lips pushing air onto the other's, our foreheads pressed together. The last roll of movement from his body and into my mine stilled, and our bodies relaxed. I opened my eyes to see him smiling softly at me. After one last, final kiss to my lips, his head drifted down to my neck and stopped to rest. I cradled his head there with one hand while the other kept his place caressing his back. I felt his kiss at my pulse point. His body still within my hold… still covered with the perspiration from the love that we had made. I drifted off to a quiet sleep… so content to lie there with his body covering my own.