Archive of Our Own ^beta

Taissa wakes up to the glow of red eyes against pitch-black night.

She sucks in a hard breath, her hands scrabbling for a weapon, a scream poised in her throat. She’s cold all over. Snow. A never-ending winter.

A click in the darkness, hard and mechanical. Then the sharp smell of chlorine.

The red flash of a message light on a bulky, beige hotel phone, doubled with sleep-blurred vision.

It happens like this, sometimes. The swooping-back. Like this Taissa doesn’t exist and never has. But it’s always fleeting. Mere seconds. Then reality hits.

“You’re okay,” she says, schooling calm into her whisper. Her skin is awash in goosebumps, but not from snow. The air conditioner clatters away, filling her hotel room with artificial cold, making the slippery satin quilt covering feel like a sheet of ice against her bare arms and legs. Down the hall, Tai can hear the pounding of small feet on carpeting. Kids coming back from the pool.

She sits up, heart slowing to a normal rhythm. Dusky sunlight peeks in from between the small gap in the blackout curtains that Tai pulled shut the second she entered the room. She taps the light on her watch. It’s half past six. She’s at a budget hotel two miles away from the tree line of the Pine Barrens, ready to meet with a new client, but she feels like she could be in outer space.

“Shit,” she murmurs. Dinner with the client is at seven. Hotels always felt liminal, like time warped and slowed at check-in, especially in big, non-descript chains like this, where all the towels were bleach-stiff and HBO was still advertised as an amenity. She was used to hotels all across the state, and she always seemed to start her stay with a nap, fully clothed, her suitcase still unpacked in the doorway.

Sleep came easy in that sanitized darkness, no matter the time or day. It was one of the only things Tai liked about these trips.

Tai reaches over and presses the message button on the ancient phone. To her surprise, her wife’s voice echoes out, warm and gentle. “Hey, Taissa, I’m glad this line worked. I tried your cell, but it went right to voicemail. I wanted Sammy to say goodnight before I brought him over to my mom’s. Give me a call.”

She should call now. She might be able to catch them still and give Sammy kisses through the phone, sing him a Faith Evans song like she has since he was born. She thinks she should miss him more, even though it has only been a few hours. She adores her son, loves him to pieces, but Simone took to motherhood faster. She was better with him.

Tai tried not to let it bother her. She was so damn tired.

She flicks on the bedside lamp and stretches, back cracking and neck aching. Her hair is a loss, so she tugs it into a low, professional bun in the bathroom mirror. A splash of water on her face and a swipe of lipstick are all she has time for before she is out the door again, double-checking the lock behind her.

The hotel restaurant, the Pine Lodge, hasn’t been renovated in years. The tacky leather booths are cracked; the stained glass is dated. Tai feels overdressed in her dark red skirt suit and heels and panty hose, especially when she sees her client in a polo shirt and faded jeans.

“Taissa Turner, what an honor,” the round-faced man says, ushering her into the booth. “I never thought I’d get to work with you.”

“The honor’s all mine,” Taissa says genially, though before the office sent her the client’s info and quote, she hadn’t heard of his name or business. Something about race cars? Taissa didn’t generally care about the details; she was a numbers person. A policy guru. Laws were her only concern.

She was also wary about his greeting. She was good at her job, that much was true, with a spotless reputation for getting things done. Zoning lawyers weren’t glamorous, but people who needed zoning lawyers often were. There was just something in this client’s eye that Taissa didn’t yet trust. Was he after Taissa Turner, woman at law…or Taissa Turner, Yellowjacket and North Jersey legend?

Taissa lets him order drinks and appetizers. He goes for the veggie spring rolls and artichoke dip, glancing at her for approval. So he knows she doesn’t eat meat. She’s about to lean in and just ask when he folds his hands together imploringly.

“When I heard what you did for the Portman Company and their permits, I just knew I needed your opinion. You really saved those guys, you know,” he says, and launches into the story she already knows, because she lived it. But she’s barely listening. She’s just relieved that this is what she’s known for, finally.

She’s still distracted when two other men join them. Partners, family, something. Taissa’s head still feels stuffy from sleep. She knows she isn’t in the game, but she will be, once she’s herself again.

“Are you planning to see the Barrens up close, Ms. Turner?” One of the men asks, the tan, lean one. “There are great trails out there. Only a few more weeks until it gets too cold.”

“I’ve hiked them before, actually,” Tai says, picking at her spring roll. The cabbage is far from crisp. “My wife and I went there to camp before we had our son.” It was a good trip, if a little unmemorable. The weather was seasonable. The stars were visible from the mesh in their tent. Two weeks later, Simone had a positive pregnancy test.

“Ooh, man, I don’t think you could pay me to camp in the Barrens overnight,” her client says, wiping his mouth and firmly shaking his head. The others agree with an exaggerated shudder.

Tai glances at them, at their grim faces. “So there’s a story here.”

“Of course.” The other man says. He’s older and balding. “You must know about the Devil. The Jersey Devil?”

Tai laughs, loud and sharp, but the men don’t follow. “That’s just a kids’ story. Or something the pineys say to keep people away.” Even though she grew up hours north, all Jersey kids knew about the Devil. But Tai can’t even remember if it crossed their minds when she and Simone took their trip. They were young and newly married, after all, and trying for a baby. Real life felt a whole lot scarier than a phantom figure with batwings and a forked tail.

“There’s always a little truth in legend, though. You have to believe in it a little,” her client says, and his eyes dart down, like he’s been caught with something.

Ah, Tai thinks, shoulders slumping. He’s a collector. Folklore, urban legends. Something to tell the kids. Maybe she and the old Jersey Devil have something in common.

“I tend to believe in facts,” she says, sipping her iced tea.

“My cousin saw it once,” the tan guy says. “Back in the 90s. When they made that movie about the Barrens, the one shot on a home movie recorder.” Tai knows exactly what he’s talking about, but she gives him a blank look. “He said it flew over their tent and it was so big it blocked out the moon. And then it screamed, and it was like a woman dying, like she was dragged into the trees and…” He stops abruptly, turning bright red. “Pardon me. That was tactless.”

Tai gives him a small smile. “No pardon needed. Like I said, sirs,” she sighs, reaching for her briefcase, “I only believe in the facts. And the facts of the Pine Barrens are especially pertinent when we’re talking about building an entertainment facility outside the perimeter. I acquired these maps from the Forestry Department…” As she splays the papers out, the men lean in and fumble for their glasses, effectively changing the conversation.

Within a couple hours, their plates are scraped clean and stacked, hands are shaken, and calls are made.

Tai is exhausted. But she knows she won’t sleep.

Her hotel room is too cold, even with the A/C turned off. She clicks the TV on, scrolls through the movie channels, then turns it off. She thinks of that Jersey Devil movie and wishes she brought her personal laptop so she could watch it. She used to watch it with—

Tai checks her phone. Low bars, but the Wi-Fi is working. There’s something restless and hot under her skin, and she wonders if Simone would be up to a video call. Maybe one that required little clothing. She smiles, thinking of Simone glancing over her shoulder, a pearl-white lace bra strap sliding down her smooth skin. They’ve always had fun like this, even with a baby—they always made time for each other. And when Tai was in a mood, Simone was always ready to follow.

But Tai doesn’t know if she can trust herself yet.

She doesn’t open the curtains, afraid of what she may see.

*

At quarter after nine, when the hotel is becoming silent and that burning beneath her skin feels like embers, Taissa calls her wife.

“Hello?” Simone’s voice is questioning but awake. She hasn’t gone to sleep yet.

“It’s me, babe. I’m using the hotel phone.” Tai winds the curling phone cord around her finger. She feels like she’s back in high school, when she’d wait until her parents were out and use her mom’s bedroom phone to call—

“Oh, hey, sweetie! I was hoping you’d call. What happened to your cell?” The sound quality is distant and echoing, but Simone’s voice is a familiar blanket.

“Service is terrible out here. You’d think I was right in the middle of the Barrens.” Tai shifts so she’s lying down, kicking off her heels. “I just spent two hours talking about hiking trails with some of the whitest dudes I have ever met. I’d need a drink, but the hotel bar has been closed for years.”

Simone snorts out a tinny laugh. “Hiking trails, huh? And these are the guys who want to build a racetrack near the Barrens? Good luck hiking through all that exhaust.”

“I kept telling them that. But their paperwork looks good. It’s all a matter of money and space.” Tai rolls onto her side on the bed, shrugging out of her jacket. “I’m sorry I missed Sammy. How was he this afternoon?” Tai listens with a smile as Simone tells her about how Sammy wouldn’t go to Grandma’s without the toy puppy Tai bought him at the airport last month, and how cute he looked in his yellow sweater, and how Simone was happy to have a long, hot bath to herself after the drive.

She bets Simone smells like tea leaves and sage, from her scalp all the way down between her legs…

“You’ve gone all quiet,” Simone teases. “I bet I know what you need.”

Tai laughs. “Am I so predictable? I mean, how can I not be a little horny when I know you’ve got that silk robe on and nothing underneath?”

Simone sighs dreamily, slipping into the banter easily. “I’m so relaxed. The bed feels too big, but at least I can sprawl out a little.” Tai can see her draping herself down across the bedspread, arms and legs splayed, all that skin warm and ready for Tai’s lips. “It’s getting chilly out, though. I might need to bundle up.”

“Don’t you dare,” Tai says, voice still teasing but laced with a little something extra. “You should always be naked. If I had my way, at least.” She unbuttons her blouse with one hand. “Open your robe. Are your nipples hard?”

“Yes,” Simone hisses, like the cool air is kissing them just right. “You’d warm me up just right.” Tai licks her lips, thinking of her own skin against Simone’s, the hard pebbles of Simone’s nipples tight and perfect.

“Don’t touch them. Imagine it’s me.” Tai wants Simone to arch her back, like she’s raising her breasts to Tai’s warm mouth. No release except for what Tai will give her. “I feel like using my teeth tonight, baby. But only a little.”

Simone groans. “It’s been too long. Since we’ve…played.”

That’s what they call it, when Tai gets a little mean and Simone’s eyes go big and dark. It’s never gone too far, and they know each other’s limits. It makes Tai feel high. She thinks it may be just what she needs tonight.

“Are you going to take what I give you?” Tai presses the speaker button on the desk set for a moment as she wriggles out of her skirt and tights, leaving herself in only her black underwear. She picks the receiver back up. She wants to be the only one to hear her wife like this.

“Yes,” Simone breathes. “Whatever you want.”

“Start slow,” Tai says. “Gentle. Remember on our third date, at the movies?” She lays back down and lets the memory wash over her. “We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We were both wearing jeans, but I made you come just by pressing on your inseam, right where you needed it.” Their fingers were slippery with popcorn butter; Simone was wearing gardenia perfume. When she came, she squeezed her eyes shut, trapping Tai’s hand between her legs. “Do it slow but firm, just like that.”

“That was a good night,” Simone murmurs. “You feel good.” She listens so well like this. Tai can see her hand moving slowly, giving her clit the lightest amount of attention, just enough to make it jump beneath her touch.

“Rub, but slowly,” Tai says. She lets the silence linger for a second, then says, “now stop, and let it wash over you.” She loves that slow burn of arousal that comes when touch leaves, when just the anticipation is enough. “When you can breathe again, keep going.”

Simone sighs, her hand shuffling. “You already have me on edge.”

Tai grins. “Perfect. Can you feel me, there? With you? I’d push your hand away and use mine. I don’t like when people touch my things.” Simone inhales sharply; she likes that. “You know I’m the only one who can get you off that good. Lick your fingers, get your clit wet.”

The slurp of Simone’s mouth makes Tai groan. But she won’t touch herself. Not yet.

“Go a little harder. Do it like we’re running out of time. Like we’re going to get caught.” It’s all fantasy—they were grown when they met, they never had to hide from anyone. But Tai can’t help chasing that thrilling feeling of urgency, of secrecy. “Imagine my mouth on you. I’d barely lick you and you’d be screaming for me.”

Simone is close; Tai can tell by the hitch in her breath, by the rustling of fabric. It doesn’t take them long like this. That isn’t the point. It’s all about heat and electricity. Tai isn’t ready for it to end.

“Stop. Now, I want you to go to the drawer.”

Simone’s moan falters into a whine, and Tai grins, arousal spiking in her clit. She shushes gently, condescendingly, and clucks her tongue. “I know you want to get off now, baby. I know that all it would take is a good, hard rub. But we’re not doing that right now, are we?” Too easy, she thinks, and she knows Simone is thinking the same thing.

“No,” Simone answers meekly. There’s a sigh and a shuffle as she reaches into the bedside table. “Okay. I have it.”

“Good girl. How wet are you?” Tai herself is soaking through her panties, the crotch so wet it has gone cool and tacky in the air conditioning, but it can wait. She’s good at waiting for hers.

“I’m so wet, Tai. It’s like…I’m pulsing, like I can’t stop it.” Oh god, Tai can practically smell her wife, that rich, unexplainable scent between her legs that makes Tai insane. She can see Simone squeezing her legs together, trying to abate that pulse. That won’t do.

“Good. Now spread your legs, nice and wide. And get the lube.”

“Tai, I don’t need it, I’m—” Her voice is softly muffled, like she’s got an arm flung over her face, overwhelmed and distressed.

“I don’t care what you need, baby. It’s what I want. Now get the lube.” Tai loves doing this to her. She wants to get her sopping, dripping, so ready that she’s like a flower in bloom, fat with pollen and needing relief. “Pour it all over. I’ll wash the sheets. Don’t worry about them. Pour it on my dick, too.” The words alone make Tai arch her back, eager to be pushing into Simone.

She doesn’t say anything as the slick, delicious sounds of Simone’s hand against wet silicon flood through the phone. She could fall asleep to how good it sounds. She can see Simone getting it ready, poising the head of the toy against her entrance, but waiting for Tai’s command for the next step.

Tai is silent. Five seconds, then ten. She breathes deeply, knowing Simone can hear it, hear how she’s there but lying in wait.

“Tai,” Simone whimpers, soft and sweet like an animal curling into Tai’s lap. It breaks through Tai like a flood.

“Do it,” she says, voice gone to gravel. “Push it in. And leave it.”

Simone gasps, and wails, the tail end muffled. Oh god, Tai loves this. She can see every inch of Simone like this. Her muscled thighs strain, her skin is slick with sweat, her braids lay like ink across the pillow. And the toy sits inside of her, pressing sweetly against her walls, promising pleasure but making her ache for it. Simone will squirm around it, whine, pant for Tai to do something.

But Tai is so, so good at waiting. She has to be, after all that time, day after day…

No. She’s here, now, in this hotel room, with her wife on the phone, aching to be fucked. And Tai has that power. She can do this, now. She is this person. Now.

“Fuck yourself,” she growls, and she can’t stop it, the way she’s floating above herself, outside herself. She sees her own face in the black mirror of the hotel TV and she can barely recognize those dark, flat eyes, pupils blown. “Use my dick and fuck yourself, hard. As deep as it can go. I know you can do it.”

Simone’s breath comes out in steady punches, mingled with the slick sound of the toy. “Tai, fuck me,” she says, soft and reverent. “Fuck me, fuck me, oh god…”

“Don’t slow down, even if you want to come,” Tai says. Her voice has gone even deeper. She feels herself slipping under dark, cold water. “If I was there, baby, I’d fuck you so hard you’d be sore for days. You take it so good. You moan and try to push me away, but your pussy just takes me in tighter. My fingers. My fist. My dick.” Her breath is so harsh it crackles over the phone. “I’d fuck you until you were all swollen and hot and painful, until your clit was aching. Are you aching for me, baby?”

Simone is beyond words. Her little yelps and strangled breaths make Tai grin and grin, her own cunt throbbing.

“It hurts, Tai,” she whimpers. “So good.”

“You’re close.” Tai finally gives herself some relief and presses her palm against the front of her panties. The pressure has her gasping and arching into it, pleasure cresting up and up like a tidal wave. “I want you to roll over. Onto your stomach. And press my dick into yourself into you come, just from me fucking you.” Tai knows how good it feels, riding something, putting your weight on it until it hits every sensitive spot and bump and ridge inside if you. “Do it, and you’ll make me come, too.”

She can see her, in the darkness. Flat on her belly, naked and glistening, the apex between her legs raw and soaked. And Tai moves towards her like a preying animal. One step, two. Slow stalking. Braces herself over the bed and leans down, teeth dripping, and…

When Tai comes, she throws her head back, mouth agape as she lets her orgasm wash over her in waves. She barely has to move her hand, just presses up into her palm as she crests, calves flexing with exertion. The mattress gives a few feeble squeaks.

Over the phone, Simone howls, low and heady. If Tai didn’t know her sounds so well, she’d think it was a wail of pain, of mourning. Instead, it’s a sound of letting go and giving in. Her orgasm is harder than Tai’s, deeper, and it lasts longer, making Tai’s clit twitch as the pleasure wanes.

Their breathing mingles as they come down. Tai lets out slow heaves of air, her body tingling from head to toe, her mind lighter than it has been in days.

The A/C kicks back in with a rumble. Tai remembers where she is.

“Jesus Christ, Tai,” Simone breathes. “That was…”

“Yeah,” Tai agrees softly, letting the phone settle between her neck and shoulder. She’s sticky and sore, needing a shower. Simone will need another bath. “You were amazing. You always are, baby.”

They chat softly as they get themselves in order. Tai hears the thunder of bath water in the tub and knows Simone has to go soon, has to warm up and sleep. “Remember,” she finds herself asking, “our camping trip? Out here in the Barrens?”

“Of course,” Simone says sleepily. “It was nice. So quiet that time of year. Your new boots gave you blisters, though.” Tai doesn’t remember that part. This was a happy, luscious time, when she could barely remember those years in the wild, or at least tried not to. A few blisters would go unnoticed. And she always knew they were only hours from home.

“Did you ever hear about the Jersey Devil?”

“Oh, sure. We all did. Wow, I haven’t thought about that in years. He was supposed to haunt the Barrens, right?” Simone laughs softly. “I guess I wasn’t scared of him. I knew you’d protect me.”

Warmth floods Tai’s chest, followed soon by stone-heavy sorrow. “Always. Go to sleep, my love. I’ll see you and Sammy tomorrow afternoon.”

“I love you,” Simone yawns. “Don’t let the Devil get you.”

Tai forces out a laugh before she hangs up. He already got me, she thinks, her eyes slipping shut.

*

Tai wakes late the next morning to rain pounding the window.

She barely makes check-out and is the last of the party to leave. Her client and his partners left a message and a large bouquet of flowers at reception for her—thank you for your expertise, Ms. Turner. We look forward to working with you in the future. All wrapped up in a neat bow, as her client meetings often ended. And promises of future business. Taissa couldn’t ask for much more in her line of work.

“These are lovely,” the smiling receptionist says, handing over the colorful bouquet. “You must have made an impression.”

Tai smiles, burying her nose in the flowers. They have the vague scent of grocery-store carnations. But in the very middle, a soft magenta bloom with pointed petals calls her attention. A rhododendron. “I sure hope so. I’ll take these to my wife. She loves purple.” The lie comes smoothly and without guilt. Simone prefers greens and browns and golds, natural tones. But Tai has always enjoyed a shock of color.

When she climbs into her car, she tosses the flowers onto the passenger seat along with her purse and briefcase, her luggage already packed neatly into the trunk. The skies are grey and heavy, promising a long day of rain. Maybe an early snowfall. Fast food signs and department store parking lots line the street as she heads home.

But she knows, in the distance, a line of deep green pine trees awaits, impenetrable and cold and eternal. And if one looks close enough into the tree line, they may see something looking back.

Tai drives, humming along to the pop song on the radio. Her family awaits.