Sinful Intentions

by Devon Hartford

  When I collapsed on top of her hot heat, she giggled, “What was that?”

  “I don’t know,” I chuckled. “I just, it felt right at the time.”

  “Yeah it did,” she sighed, sleepy eyed. “You fuck like a god. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “Virgin, remember?” I lifted my head and grinned. “I mean, until today.”

  “Every time you fuck me, I believe you less and less.” She was biting her lower lip and blushing.

  I shrugged. Then I said something very, very stupid. “Believe me when I say you are the only woman I have ever fucked or ever will.” The first part was fine. The second part was not, though it didn’t occur to me at the time. Even an eleven year old knew better than to mention forever on your first day with a girl.

  Brooke’s blush blanched and her smile faded. “Don’t say that.” She giggled nervously.

  See? I told you. I’d said too much.

  “Why not?” I asked earnestly, oblivious to my ignorance.

  “Just don’t.” She attempted to slide out from under me but couldn’t. She slapped my shoulder three times. “Can you move, please?”

  “Sorry.” I pulled out and jumped up from the bed.

  What’re you doing! my disappointed dick demanded.

  “I need to get out of here,” Brooke said, already off the bed, hunched over and grabbing up her clothes. She hopped into the bathroom and closed the door.

  I dressed.

  She came out moments later smoothing her clothes down. “Where are my sandals?”

  “I think you left them downstairs.”

  “Oh, right.” She headed for the bedroom door.

  “Don’t forget your birth control pills.”

  “Ugh!” She rolled her eyes and went back to the bathroom to fetch them. “Time for you to go. I don’t want either of us here if my parents show up.”

  I followed her downstairs and out to the driveway.

  Sandals and birth control pills in one hand, she fumbled for the door of her Miata with the other.

  “I’ll get it,” I said.

  “Thanks.” She dropped into the driver’s seat. “Can you close the door?”

  “Sorry.” I shut it. “Did you want to go to my birthday dinner tonight or…?” I wasn’t going to say no for her, but I did want to imply it was an option.

  “Oh, uh, hmm.” She stretched a thin wincing smile. “I don’t know.”

  This was goodbye. I could feel it. She was sending the signal.

  “Can I decide later?” she asked.

  “Sure.” I knew later meant never.

  “Where is it?” She was just being nice.

  “Ruth’s Chris by the airport.”

  “I know where that is.”

  “We’re meeting there at seven. Dinner’s at 7:30.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “My parents and my three friends from school. Jorge, Gavin, and Cameron.”

  “Do I know them?”

  “They come over all the time.”

  “Those three nerdy guys?” she giggled.

  “That’s them,” I smirked.

  She nodded. “I should go.”

  “If you must.”

  She offered a counterfeit smile. “Bye, Mike.”

  “Bye,” I sighed.

  She backed up and drove off without a wave.

  There was a permanence to her departure that left an indelible stain on my heart. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to fade away quickly or never fade. Time would tell.

  Chapter 15

  “Let me guess,” Gavin chuckled, “You put Arco gas in your dad’s Mustang instead of going to Exxon to fill it with Synergy Supreme Plus and he grounded you for a month.”

  I looked up from where I sat slumped over my knees on the bench in the crowded waiting area at Ruth’s Chris.

  Gavin was flanked by Jorge and Cameron, who both laughed. My three best and nerdiest friends. Gavin was African American, Jorge was Mexican, and Cameron was Korean. They knew my dad well. Like me, they wore button-down shirts, ties, slacks, dress shoes. Dad had ordered me to inform them there would be a dress code tonight and non-compliance was not an option.

  “Shut up!” I hissed at Gavin. “My dad might hear you!” I wasn’t worried so much that Dad would hear Gavin’s joke about me buying the wrong gasoline, which was not true. I knew better. Gavin had merely meant it as a joking assessment of my blue mood. What I was really worried about was Dad hearing Gavin mocking him. Dad did not take lightly to my friends busting his balls.

  “He just walked to the men’s room,” Gavin said. “He can’t hear us over the noise.” The steak house was fairly bustling with dinner conversation and a symphony of silverware.

  Jorge said, “He grounded you, didn’t he?”

  I smirked, “I wouldn’t be here if he did.”

  “What happened?” Cameron asked.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I sighed. I was dying to tell them about the good parts of my day with Brooke, but that would lead to telling them about the bad. I didn’t want to relive it. “Can we talk about video games or something?”

  That led to a spirited discussion about whether or not the new installment of No More Heroes sucked as many hairy bear balls as the last.

  “Hunt, party of seven,” the hostess called out.

  Dad said, “There’s only six of us.” He meant Brooke wasn’t here to fill the number seven spot.

  “Oh,” the hostess said, confused.

  “You can put the extra menu back,” Dad said to her with a winning twinkle in his eye that enhanced his gloating tone.

  Really? Did he have to? He couldn’t just let it drop?

  Jorge mumbled, “Who else is coming?”

  “Nobody,” I sighed because Brooke had clearly gone over to Travis or Austin’s house to set down roots.

  Our group ambled along behind the hostess with me dragging in the rear.

  Mom fell in step beside me and whispered, “Is she not coming?”

  “Guess not.”

  We were sat in a big circular booth in the corner and the hostess handed out large leather menus. The tablecloth and napkins were heavy linen, the napkins folded in triangles on top of heavy dinner plates.

  When the waiter arrived to take our drink orders, he asked, “How many of you will be drinking tonight?”

  “Not them,” Dad sparkled, waving a hand at me and the boys. He thrived on enforcing the rules.

  “Very good.” The waiter systematically removed four wine glasses. Four because one was supposed to be Brooke’s. But she wasn’t here. Whatever. The waiter took our drink orders before hurrying off.

  We continued studying our menus.

  “What are you having, Mike?” Mom asked.

  “The filet, I guess,” I said, glancing over my options with minimal interest.

  “Where do I sit?” someone asked.

  Everyone looked up.

  Boom.

  Brooke stood there like dynamite.

  Her blonde hair was up in a sexy mess and she wore makeup. She hadn’t been wearing any earlier today, and she had been gorgeous then, but fuck, she was even hotter now. Her blue eyes glowed. Her tight black dress barely restrained her boobs. Long legs led to tall black heels.

  I was peripherally aware that every man in the restaurant was staring at her. Except Dad. He was scowling.

  Mom said, “Aren’t you going to make room for her, Mike?” She was talking to me.

  I jumped up from the end of the booth. “You can sit next to me.”

  Brooke held out her hand and stood there waiting.

  “What do I do?” I was out of my depth when it came to dating etiquette, as usual.

  Mom tittered, “Take her hand and help her.”

  “Right.” I did, holding Brooke’s hand while she sat down and scooted over next to Cameron, who scooted next to Gavin, who moved Jorge, then Mom, then Dad, who grumbled as he was shoved over a few inches to the end of the booth opposite me.r />
  It was then I noticed my best friends gawking at me, jaws resting on their menus, eyes popped out so far they would have to go get them later.

  A huge smile peeled across my teeth and I said, “I told you guys wouldn’t believe me.”

  Chapter 16

  Everybody ordered steak, because that’s what you did at Ruth’s Chris. Brooke ordered wine for herself and showed her ID to the waiter.

  “I hope you plan on paying for that,” Dad said.

  “Of course,” Brooke sneeved.

  During dinner, I ignored Dad, who ignored Brooke. She attempted to make conversation with him, but gave up after it became clear he wouldn’t say more than one or two words to her. She offered me some of her wine. Dad intervened and nixed it. I didn’t care. I didn’t like wine anyway.

  At some point, Brooke excused herself to go to the bathroom. Mom went with her.

  Cameron immediately chuckled under his breath, “What the fuck, Mike? What is Brooke doing here?”

  Dad grumbled, “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth, Cameron?”

  “Uhhhh,” Cameron droned, “I don’t kiss my mother.”

  Dad strained a smile, “No cursing at the dinner table, if you don’t mind.”

  Cameron nodded reluctantly. None of my friends liked Dad’s rules. Daily, I wrote a mental thank you note to God, Zeus (the real one, not my dad), Odin, Buddha, Santa, Satan, and anyone else who’d listen, thanking them for giving me friends willing to tolerate Dad’s rules for my sake.

  “Well?” Gavin pressed. “What is Brooke Hillstrom doing at your birthday?”

  All I could do was smile. Since the first day the three of them had discovered her lounging topless by the pool in her backyard next door (I had never told them, Gavin had spotted her out my window and scolded me for not telling him sooner), they had pestered me relentlessly to come over at every opportunity for the sole purpose of spying on Brooke. I wasn’t the only one who got off staring at her sunbathing splendor. I meant that literally. The upstairs bathroom window was right next to my bedroom window. Both faced Brooke’s backyard. On countless occasions, any and all of my three friends had nervously made excuses to use the upstairs bathroom when we knew Brooke was outside. When that happened, they always took much longer in the shitter than anyone could possibly shit. Not that I wanted confirmation of what they actually did during their dubious uses of the upstairs bathroom. As long as they cleaned up after themselves, there was no need to share our shame. But we talked about Brooke plenty.

  “Tell us, Mike,” Jorge enthused.

  “Yes, son,” Dad said. “Tell us why Brooke is here. While you’re at it, tell us what good could possibly come of it.”

  “I’ll tell you what can come of it,” Gavin laughed. “Mike.”

  Jorge and Cameron practically slid under the table while wheezing snickers, their eyes clamped shut and near tears.

  Dad shook his head in disgust.

  I ignored him while evasively answering my friends’ crude questions as best I could with Dad sitting across the table and glaring.

  When Mom and Brooke returned, every man in the restaurant was staring again, not at my mom, only at Brooke. In contrast, those two were laughing like best friends.

  “Right?!” Mom said. “That’s what I’m always telling him!”

  Grinning, Brooke nodded, “He finally listened. Didn’t you, Mike?”

  “Uh, I guess?” Not sure what they were talking about, I stood up and held Brooke’s hand while she sat down and Dad did the same for Mom. When I sat back down, Brooke squeezed my knee under the tablecloth and left her hand on my thigh for the remainder of dinner. I was hard the entire time.

  If Brooke noticed, she never did anything.

  I was glad for that.

  Getting a hand job in front of my dad was an experience I never wanted to have. Brooke must’ve sensed it.

  For dessert, everyone ordered whatever they wanted from the dessert menu. Ruth’s Chris wasn’t exactly set up for birthday cakes. I ordered the cheesecake. After the waiter brought everything out, Mom said, “Happy eighteenth birthday, Mike.”

  “Yeah, man,” Jorge said. “Now you’re legal.”

  “Barely,” Brooke giggled.

  I blushed and got even harder.

  This time, she did give my dick a brief squeeze.

  I tried not to jump.

  Gavin said, “They didn’t give you a candle, man! You can’t have birthday cake without no candle in it!”

  “It’s fine,” I shrugged.

  Brooke said, “Don’t you want a candle to put in your cake, Mike? One you can blow out?” She kissed the word blow and stroked my dick slowly through my slacks, leaving no question about which candle or cake she meant.

  “No! No candles!”

  “Suit yourself.” Brooke hid a titter and released me to my immense relief because Dad was glaring guns at me.

  “Happy birthday, son,” he said. “Now that you’re an adult, make sure you don’t do anything too stupid.”

  “Miiii-iiike!” Mom issued an irritated laugh to reprimand Dad. “It’s his birthday!”

  “It is. And now that he’s eighteen, the police won’t simply release him into our custody if he decides to do something dumb.” He aimed a hard stare right between Brooke’s eyes. There was no doubt about what he was implying, that Brooke was something dumb.

  “Don’t say that, Mike,” Mom said, barely managing a smile.

  Gavin, Jorge, and Cameron looked as embarrassed as I felt, the three of them staring at their dessert plates and scraping squeaky forks impatiently.

  Dad shrugged and cut into his devil’s food cake with a grin.

  “Wait!” Brooke blurted. “Aren’t we going to sing happy birthday?”

  “They don’t do that here,” Dad smirked.

  “I do,” Brooke laughed. “Everybody, on four! One, two, three, four!” Brooke belted out the lyrics, on her own at first (she had quite the natural singing voice), then Mom joined in and so did the boys. Dad mumbled the words and rolled his eyes.

  “And many moooooooore!” Brooke led and everyone sang with her in raucous chorus, except Dad, of course.

  Brooke was laughing her ass off and leaned into me. She whispered mintily in my ear, “I’ll give you your present later.”

  I nearly shot a hole in my slacks when she said that.

  Best. Birthday. Ever.

  That would turn out to be entirely wrong in short order.

  Chapter 17

  The seven of us sauntered out to the parking lot.

  The sun had set, but the pavement was bleeding heat and it was still warm out.

  “What now?” Brooke asked, her heels clacking as she walked beside me, her arms twined around my elbow. Even in heels, she was shorter than me by several inches.

  “What’re you guys thinking?” I asked my buds.

  They flicked looks at Dad.

  “Church,” Gavin joked.

  “Rectal exams,” Cameron snorted.

  Dad grimaced.

  My friends and I laughed.

  Brooke rolled her eyes and muttered to my mother, “Boys, right?”

  “Try living with them,” Mom chortled beside her.

  “Seriously,” Jorge offered, “how about GTA at my house?” Playing Grand Theft Auto was a valid and frequent fallback when we had nothing better to do.

  I looked at Brooke.

  “Video games?” she whispered to me doubtfully. “Is that our only option?”

  “What about a movie?” Cameron suggested. “We still haven’t seen the new Avengers movie.”

  Brooke huffed, “That all sounds really boring, you guys. Isn’t there something funner? Oh! I know! Let’s go to a shooting range! Rent some guns! That would be wild, wouldn’t it?”

  “Not without parental consent,” Dad said, implying he wasn’t offering. “Unless you’re twenty-one.”

  “I’m twenty-one,” Brooke said.

  “You’re not their legal guardian,” Dad
countered.

  “I am tonight!”

  “No you’re not, Brooke.”

  “Whatever. Oh, wait! How about go carts! There’s that new place off the freeway, the one near the new Target.”

  “That’s super expensive,” Jorge said.

  “Yeah, I don’t know,” Gavin said.

  None of our families were as well off as Brooke’s, which was why my friends had driven here together in Cameron’s Mom’s car to save on gas money.

  “How about waterslides?” Brooke said. “That’s not too expensive. Wave World is open super late and I’ve got my bikini in my car.”

  Wave World was the Disneyland of water parks. I had been countless times over the years with the boys. The three of them snatched glances at Brooke in her tight black dress and offered a unanimous, “Yeah!”

  “Wave World awaits!” Brooke cheered.

  “We need bathing suits,” Gavin said.

  “Borrow Mike’s,” Brooke suggested.

  Me and the boys exchanged shrugs of agreement.

  “It’s settled. You guys follow us to Mike’s house, we’ll change there, and go.” Brooke was a whirlwind of decision making. “Mike, you come with me.” She started off, dragging me with her.

  “Now hold on, son,” Dad said. “You drove here with your mother. Show her some respect and drive home with her.”

  Mom fuffed, “He can drive with Brooke. It’s not an issue. Let the kids do their thing.”

  Dad grit his teeth, “She’s been drinking, Kath.”

  “I had one glass of wine,” Brooke spat. “One! That was two hours ago!”

  “It was a big glass. You’re a little girl.” The way he said it was more demeaning than complimentary.

  “I’m fine to drive,” Brooke argued.

  “I’ll drive,” I offered.

  Dad cracked his knuckles loudly, compressing each fist in front of his chest for effect. “Brooke? Can I talk to you for a second?”

  Brooke folded her arms across her black dress and challenged, “Go ahead.”