I couldn’t even look at him. I stared into the orange juice I had poured myself and wondered how long I had to sit there before I could make my escape. I couldn’t be in the room with the two of them, not after what I had seen them up to last night.
"I think I need to go wash up," I blurted out before I could stop myself. Nope, I couldn’t do it--I needed out of there, and quickly.
"Okay," Donna replied, furrowing her brow at me. "Is something …”
That’s when it seemed to hit her. She stopped in her tracks, and her eyebrows shot up. I expected her to act at least a little embarrassed, but she didn't so much as flinch.
"You mind if I join you?” she asked. "I could use a little help getting my hair sorted."
She got up and followed me out of the room. I knew there was no way to deny what I knew, not any longer. Besides, I didn’t want to. I wanted her to know what I knew. I wanted to look her in the eye and ask her what in the name of holy heck she had been doing with my stepfather.
She closed the kitchen door behind us carefully. I rounded on her before I could stop myself.
"I saw the two of you together last night," I told her. "You and Andrew. In your bed!"
"Yeah, I guessed from the look on your face you weren’t too happy," she replied, and she sounded a little exasperated, as though she couldn’t believe she was being forced into this conversation.
"You really think that’s an all right thing to do?” I demanded, lowering my voice. "I can't believe you would … that you would let something like that happen. It’s disgusting. It's not right--"
"Let something like that happen?” She laughed. "You say it like I had nothing to do with it. I didn’t let it happen, Cindy. I made it happen."
I stared at her. I couldn’t believe her. She seemed proud of it as though this was anything at all to be proud of. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her. Remind her how crazy she was being. But there was a part of me that was curious. I had to know ... I couldn’t put my finger on it yet, but the energy she was exuding--wild and free and easy--was inspiring to me. I could almost feel it rubbing off on me, leaking over to fill my body just the same way it filled hers.
"But why did you do it?” I asked the question that had been plaguing me since I had walked in on them like that together. "You know he’s with someone. You know he’s so much older than you."
"Oh, trust me, Andrew’s not even close to the oldest guy I’ve ever had," she laughed.
She was thriving on my interest, I could tell, and even though I resented giving her the satisfaction, I just had to know what it was like.
"What do you mean?" I pressed.
"You’d be surprised at what some guys will give to sleep with someone who’s so much younger than them," she replied, a smile spreading across her face.
My eyebrows shot up. Every time I felt like I had a grasp on what she was saying to me, she would come out with something that sent my head spinning again.
"They pay you for it?” I gasped.
She shook her head. "No, But trust me, young pussy … they go crazy for it."
I fell silent. Even hearing that word made me blush. I could feel the heat rushing up and over my neck. Pussy, pussy, pussy. I had one of those between my legs, one with desires I had firmly ignored for as long as I could remember. But hearing it spoken out loud was enough to send a rush of want through my body. I knew that was crazy.
"And I do it because it feels good," she finished as though it should have been obvious.
I flashed back to the image of her the night before: her head tossed back in pure pleasure, her eyes closed, and her face glazed with utter lust. I wondered what it must have been like to feel that way. So free. So welcome to explore the whims of the body; everything that it desired and wanted from her.
"You must know what I’m talking about," she continued, waving her hand. "I mean, you’ve ...” She trailed off staring at me. Clearly reading my expression.
I glanced away from her, feeling silly. I had never done anything like that, and there she was telling me that she had taken every man she’d ever wanted and loved every moment of it.
"Oh," she breathed as though she couldn’t believe what she was learning.
I chewed my lip. I needed to get out of there.
"I need some air," I muttered, turned and walked out of the room, heading back to my bedroom.
I knew there was food waiting for me but I didn’t care about that. I didn’t have much of an appetite anyway. Well, not for food, at least ...
The images of what I had seen the night before were pulsing in my brain, filling it up, until I couldn’t think of anything else. She did it because it felt good. Pure hedonism. A focus on nothing but her pleasure. And she didn’t seem to think of herself as any less than for it. No, there was actual pride in her voice when she told me everything she had done.
I closed the door behind me, and I realized my heart was pounding in my chest. My whole body felt as though it was on fire. I couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t have it in me to ignore it any longer. Twenty years, two whole decades, and I had ignored what it needed, what it wanted. Everything that it was screaming at me to give it. I was done waiting. I was done pretending I had no desires, that I was a good girl. Chaste and sweet with nothing dark in my head.
Right there, against the door, still standing up, I slipped my hand beneath my skirt and trailed it over the outside of my panties.
I gasped at the sensation. I could already feel the wetness soaking through the fabric, soft and warm against my fingers. The feeling was so intense it almost sent my knees buckling out from underneath me, but I propped myself up against the door to keep from keeling over. This was … this was everything I had been waiting for.
I let my fingers graze over the front of my panties for a moment, then I plucked up the courage to slide them beneath. I groaned loudly, not caring who heard me at that moment--heck, I wouldn’t have cared if the whole house had been able to make out the sound of me touching myself for the first time. Donna hadn’t exactly been careful to keep her own exploits undercover and look where it had gotten her. So free, so joyous and I wanted that. I needed that. If this was what it took to get me there, then I would do it.
I moved my fingers around until I found a spot that made me feel good--it seemed as though it was a pressure valve, waiting to pop. When I moved my fingers over it, I felt some of the release I was craving so badly. I pressed lightly against it at first, testing out how it felt, then went harder, moving in slow, soft circles. I was pushing my hips to meet my hand like I couldn’t get enough. I was acting so uncharacteristically--the curtains to my window were open, and anyone could have looked in and caught me in the act--but somehow that just turned me on more.
I let my fingers slide down further and felt the hole where the wetness slipped from. I couldn’t believe how damp I was. I couldn’t believe I was this … eager. It was pouring from me as though a dam had burst, and I would have thought there was something wrong with me if it didn’t feel so good. I tentatively pushed one finger inside myself, then another. It felt a little strange, the newness of it difficult to wrap my head around, but then I moved my fingers around and it felt good. Really good.
With my fingers inside me, I couldn’t help but let my mind drift to what I had seen the night before. Not Andrew, not him, but the look on Donna’s face while he had been taking her. I could almost imagine how it would feel to have a man fill me like that. How delicious it would be to have someone enter me, bury themselves all the way inside me. I moaned again, the vibrations running through my body at the mere thought of it. Years of holding back were rising inside of me, my body finding relief in everything that it had been hiding from.
"Oh my God," I gasped. Even after all those years, I struggled to use His name in vain, but in that moment, I couldn’t have cared less about anything, anything but the feelings building between my legs. I needed this. God, I needed this. I cra
ved this more than anything in the world.
I was not surprised by how quickly the feeling was building within me. God, I needed this. I didn’t know how much I needed it until that moment. My other hand reached to grab something, finding the edge of the door to keep me upright, as the feeling built, and built, and then--
"Ah!” I cried out. It was loud, I knew everyone else had to have heard it. My entire lower half clenched up, and I sank to the ground. My hand was still trapped between my legs; my entire body trembling helplessly. The feeling exploded through my body, rushing around every nerve ending, switching me on in a way I had never been switched on before. I found myself laughing. The pure giddiness of all the endorphins rushing around my body drew the sound from between my lips--total elation. I couldn’t believe I had just done that. I knew the guilt would follow, but for now, it was worth it.
"Cindy?” a voice called through the door.
I jumped up, smoothing down my skirt. The smile was still on my face, and I did my best to straighten it out. "Yes?"
"We heard you yelling from the kitchen, are you all right?”
"I’m--I’m fine," I assured Thom, biting my lip. "I just stubbed my toe, that’s all."
"Oh," he replied, but he didn’t sound convinced. "You want to come through and join us for something to eat?"
"Of course," I replied. Suddenly, I was starving, like a veil had been lifted between me and what I actually felt. "I just need to … uh, I just need to wash up first."
"All right, see you in a minute.”
I grinned to myself again and closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wood. It had happened. I had just let myself do that. After all this time waiting, I had given myself the gift I’d been denying myself for over twenty years. I knew, right there and then, that this was going to be far from the last time. This feeling was addictive, and I wasn’t willing to give it up ever again.
Chapter 4
Hand on your thigh
"Donna? Can I talk to you?" I asked nervously, practically dancing back and forth in the doorway of her bedroom.
It had been a week since I’d arrived, and Andrew had headed back home to my mother--I wondered if she was going to guess what he had been up to down here. Something told me she wouldn’t. Perhaps I should have told her, but there were bigger things going on in my life.
Donna looked up from her phone and raised her eyebrows at me expectantly. "What about?” she asked, tossing her phone onto her bed.
I glanced over at the screen before it clicked to black, and saw an older man’s face. He was handsome, with strong bone structure and gray-green eyes that seemed to glisten in the light. I bit my lip--I liked the look of him. That said, in my current state, I wasn’t sure there was a man out there I wouldn’t like the look of.
"It’s about … men," I admitted.
She got to her feet and closed the door behind me. Glancing around the corridor, probably to make sure her father wasn’t hanging out anywhere, she turned her attention back to me. "Men?”
"Men," I replied, perching on the end of her bed. I didn’t know how to go about this conversation. A few times, my mother had tried to start it with me, but I’d had no clue what I was meant to do or say. So, I just sat there, lightly paralyzed with awkwardness, trying to ignore her use of words that felt distinctly medical and utterly off-putting.
"You’ve never been with one, have you?” she asked bluntly.
I paused then shook my head. There was no point in lying to her about any of this. She could probably see through me anyway; guessing I was telling lies about how much experience I’d actually had. I didn’t know what to tell her, or if she would think I was a freak if I admitted the depths my repression had gone to, but I knew I needed her help.
"No, I haven’t," I admitted.
"Just waiting for the right guy, or is it something else?”
"A little of both, I guess," I replied. "I’ve never … I mean, I’ve never really let myself feel attracted to a guy like that. I suppose I’ve never had one look at me that way, either."
"Oh, trust me, men have been looking at you," she replied.
I shook my head. "Really, I don’t think--"
"There isn’t anyone men don’t look at," she said getting to her feet and brushing my hair back from my face. "And look at you. You’re so pretty."
"But men don’t go for women like me," I mumbled glancing down at my outfit. "I don’t know how to dress to get them to pay attention to me. I’ve never wanted them to ..."
"Until now," she finished wiggling her eyebrows at me playfully. She turned to her closet and pulled it open. "Come on, we’re about the same size. I’m sure I can find something to fit you."
She made me over. It was as though she’d been waiting for that moment from the first time she’d laid eyes on me, and I supposed she had. I was more than happy to let her take control and show me how I was meant to look if I was going to find a man to have me. If I was even ready to go that far yet. Touching myself had been one thing, but doing it would be quite another.
We went through a few outfits--her throwback style didn’t suit me that well, but she eventually dug out a dress that made me feel pretty good. It was the kind of thing I would have pursed my lips at if I’d seen another woman wearing it in the street, but honestly, that would have been because I was jealous. I would never have the nerve to wear it myself. It was black, tight around the top, loose around my legs. So, I could dance, Donna told me.
"Wait, we’re going somewhere I need to dance?”
"Of course we are!" she exclaimed. "I didn’t get you all dressed up so you could just sit at home on your rear end doing nothing all night, did I?”
"I don’t know if I’m ready for that," I admitted, looking at myself in the mirror. I twisted back and forth, checking myself out. Sure, I liked the way I looked, but I wasn’t sure I was ready for anyone else to like the way I looked. Not just yet.
"There’s a bar, near here," she told me. "They don’t check IDs. We can get in, flirt a little, dance … it’ll be fun, I promise!"
All of those things sounded mildly terrifying to me, but then I remembered how I had felt the night before when I’d seen her with Andrew--that freedom she had all over her face. I came back to that image a lot, even though I knew it likely wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world. But she didn’t get there by sitting around at home and letting her worst fears get the better of her, that was for sure.
"Okay," I agreed, a smile spreading over my face. "Okay, I think I can handle that."
"Of course you can," she promised me. "Come on. Let’s call a cab and we can go out."
She wandered into the kitchen to make the call, and I followed her. Thom was there, washing dishes from that morning, and his eyes practically bugged out when he saw me all dressed up. I couldn’t help but notice the way he stopped what he was doing to take me in. I bit my lip.
"Is it too much?" I asked him, a little playfully.
He shook his head. "No, I think you look great," he replied and moved an inch closer to me.
Before I could say anything else, Donna turned back to me and clapped her hands together.
"Okay, that’s the cab on the way now," she announced. "Should be here in a few minutes. Come on, let’s go get our stuff."
"All right," I agreed.
Thom tore his gaze away from me like it was stuck there with glue. I felt something warm flutter up inside of me. I liked it when he looked at me like that. It might have been wrong, and I might have been terrible for even thinking that way, but something about the way he had taken me in like he wanted every inch of me was just … mmm. It made something glow inside me.
That thing was still glowing inside me when I climbed into the back of the cab with Donna. She was chattering away about all the other times she’d been to this bar, and I was trying to take it all in so I could figure out how to conduct myself without making a complete ass out of myself in the process.
"Just make sure to avoid a
ll the creepy guys in the corner," she warned me. "They’re always trouble."
"The bad kind?”
She grinned at me. "See, now you’re getting it," she replied, apparently pleased with the revelation. "And yeah, the bad kind. But trust me, there’s good trouble to be had up at this place, as well."
"Whatever you say," I agreed.
A few moments later we arrived outside a bar. It didn’t have a sign over the door, but the windows were lined with neon and loud music blared from inside. The sort of place I would have avoided like it was a leper colony before, but now, I was about to spend the night there. Out of choice. Even to me, it seemed like a crazy-big ask.
"You sure you’re ready for this, Cindy?” Donna asked, apparently sensing my nerves as I hesitated in the back of the taxi.
I gathered myself as best I could then nodded. I wasn’t going to get anywhere pulling back from everything that made me feel uncomfortable. "I’m ready for this," I replied.
She beamed at me. And with that, I went to my very first bar for the very first time.
Donna ordered us a couple of beers, and I sipped on the sour liquid. I wasn’t sure exactly what people got out of drinking this stuff, but the bar was full of them and I figured this was the best way for me to fit in.
"You see that guy over there?" Donna asked, having to raise her voice to be heard over the music.
I looked around to see who she was talking about--a guy with a few years on us, and he had been eyeing us openly since we’d walked in.
"Yeah?”
"I hooked up with him last time I was here," she replied, and there was an edge of pride in her voice. "In his car. It was really hot."
"Really?” I gaped at her. I couldn’t believe anyone would have the nerve for that, but then, I supposed that I had to get on board with this kind of thing if I was going to get what I wanted.
"Come on, let’s dance," she suggested, as a pop song came on. She grabbed my hand and I knew I didn’t have much of a choice.
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