Page 50 of Hidden Desires

“Are you okay, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” I ask.

She drops the duffel and grabs my arm. “Can I stay here tonight? Please?”

I don’t hesitate. “Of course. But are you okay? What happened?”

Eliza shakes her head, and now the tears come in earnest, hot and primal. She hugs herself, sleeves pulled over her hands. The smell of her perfume—mesmerizing, as usual—cuts through the leftover cigar smoke. She’s so raw it hurts to look at her.

I steer her to the couch, clear off the poker chips, and wrap her in an old Air Force blanket. She tucks her knees under her chin and hides her face. For a minute, all I can do is sit next to the young woman, rubbing small circles on her back, the silence broken only by her hitched breaths.

Finally, Eliza lifts her head, and her eyes are pure devastation.

“It was my mom,” she says. “She found it.”

A cold chill runs up my spine. “Found what?”

She presses her lips together, furious at herself. “The lingerie. I bought this new set, you know, for… for you. I was so stupid! I hid it in my closet, but she was looking for my old swim gear and found the bag. She opened it and saw everything. She went ballistic.”

I pause for a moment, nodding at a pink plastic bag she’s retrieved from her duffel.

“Is lingerie really that terrible though?”

Eliza’s shoulders slump.

“It’s sexy lingerie, Jack, that I bought to wear for you. It’s bad because I usually wear plain cotton stuff. You know I do. But I wanted to spice things up so I went to a fancy boutique and picked up stuff that’s definitely risqué.”

Despite the severity of the situation, I harden a bit in my pants.

“Show me.”

With slow fingers, Eliza opens the bag and pulls out a red bra that’s made of sheer lace. It’s strappy and delicate, offering no support whatsoever. Not only that, but it’s obvious her nipples would show through the lace. This isn’t a bra made for coverage - it’s made the eyes of a man, and I love it.

But I need to stay serious given my girl’s despair.

“Okay, what else?”

“I bought the matching panties too,” Eliza whispers in an agonized voice. She pulls out a scrap of red lace before holding it up, and immediately, I see why her mom was floored. The thong isn’t much more than a postage-stamp sized square of fabric with string attached to it. It’s a clit patch at most, and there’s no way Eliza would wear the item for comfort or coverage. Of course, I love it, and can’t wait to see my girl prancing around with nothing but a clit patch on, boobies bouncing, but this isn’t the time to be sketchy.

I process the purchases. “Did Nancy say anything?”

Eliza nods. “She screamed. It was bad. She asked me if I was ‘on drugs,’ if I was seeing some gross old man.” She laughs harshly, the sound like broken glass. “She said, ‘Who’s this for? No one buys underwear like this unless it’s for a man.’ I tried to tell her it was for a friend’s bachelorette party but she didn’t believe me. She said I was lying. Said she was disappointed in me and then actually threatened to throw me out.”

I put an arm around her shoulders and pull her close. Eliza lets herself be folded in, shivering. Her hair is soft and smells like coconut shampoo, and the makeup smeared on her cheeks gives her a haunted look.

“She said I’m not allowed to go out this weekend. Said if I try to leave she’ll call the cops.”

I blink. “Jesus.”

Eliza nods, wiping her nose. “So I left. I grabbed some stuff and just came here.”

We sit for a while. She keeps her head on my shoulder, squeezing my hand with a death grip. I listen to her breathing slow. Out the window, the world is black and still.

After a bit, I say, “Maybe we need to tell them about us.”

She jerks upright, eyes wide. “No. No way, Jack. You can’t. If you do, it’ll ruin everything! My dad—he’ll never speak to you again. You’ll never find a civilian job, and I know you’ve been looking recently. But you’ll be branded a “creep” who takes advantage of young girls.” Her voice breaks. “Please don’t.”

I shake my head, but I’m not sure if I mean yes or no. I tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Sweetheart, I’m not going anywhere, and I don’t care what happens to me. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

She smiles, faint, like a ghost. “I’m not the one in danger, Jack. It’s you.”