Sweet Jane: An Amnesia Story of Being Lost, and Then Found

by Abby Knox

I do, and it makes me so much more worked up that my breath catches in my throat.

  “Now switch,” he says.

  I obey and it makes me moan into the receiver.

  “Say my name when you’re squeezing those tight little nipples for me.”

  “Shep,” I moan.

  And then, I ask him if he’s touching himself.

  “If by touching myself you mean am I gripping my cock like a soldier on the front lines, staring at a picture of his girl he hasn’t fucked in six months? Then yeah. I am.”

  I gasp, and he catches it. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

  “I felt myself getting wet while you were talking. Your voice drives me insane.”

  “How wet are you, exactly?”

  “I’m soaking your shorts.”

  “Fuck. You didn’t mention you had put my shorts back on,” he says.

  “I did. And now you’ve got my scent all over them.”

  “Fuuuck.”

  “Are you OK, Shep?”

  “No, in fact, I’m not OK. I’m ready to jizz all over my old high school comforter.”

  I say, “I’m sure the comforter has had days like that before.”

  “Salty.”

  “Guess I need a spanking.”

  “How about instead you rub your sweet, wet pussy while I listen?”

  “Yes, sir, I already am.”

  “What does it feel like?”

  “Warm. Smooth. Slippery.”

  “Jane, I want you to slip one finger into your cunt and tell me if you feel your cherry.”

  I can’t help but let out a giggle. “So brazen.”

  “Girl, we are going to figure this out tonight. Do it.”

  I like it when he’s bossy. I do as he says; I insert my finger into my pussy. My folds are making my fingers totally soaked, so I easily sink deeper. There it is.

  “Something is there, kind of in the way.”

  “That’s it. You’re not married.”

  “But we knew that.”

  “We did.”

  “So now what?” I ask.

  “Do you want me to come to your room?”

  I think about it. On one hand, I desperately do. My body wants nothing more than to feel his arms around me. I want to lay eyes on his cock, take his thickness in my hands and guide it into me, pushing past my virginity once and for all so my body knows it belongs to him.

  But something else is in the way.

  “I want to wait until we’re home. At your house. Does that make sense?”

  “Sweet Jane, I will do whatever it takes and wait for as long as it takes you to be ready. I’m crazy about you.”

  “I don’t think anyone has ever said that to me before. It doesn’t feel like anyone has.”

  “And I’m going to make you feel like nobody has ever made you feel, right the fuck now. Do you feel your clit? Tomorrow night, I’m gonna own it.”

  My finger slips out of my vagina and I caress my folds until my clit is on fire with need for attention. It’s a bundle of aroused nerve endings, the source of my body screaming, yearning for release.

  I groan as I rub in circles around it. “I can feel you touching it.”

  “I’m not touching it, sweetness. I’m sucking on it.”

  I cry out as my body reaches the next level of heat, of anxious yearning. I feel like I might die if he doesn’t finish me.

  “Oh my god,” I breathe.

  Shep’s voice shifts from sultry to urgent. I can sense him thrusting into his own hands while he speaks, punctuating every sentence with a lustful pump. “I’m gonna taste every bit of you.”

  “Yes, Shep,” I sigh, my fingers urging my sex onward toward the point of no return.

  “Gonna taste your sweet honey on my tongue.”

  “Yes!”

  “Make you come into my mouth.”

  I’m sweeping around my clit and also squeezing my nipples hard, enhancing the pleasure even more.

  “I can’t wait for you to fuck me with your mouth, and with your giant cock,” I whisper because I’m nearly out of breath.

  “Holy shit,” he grunts. “Are you going to kiss me with that dirty mouth?”

  “I’m going to kiss you, bite you, then suck you dry with this dirty mouth.”

  “Fuck, I’m coming.”

  Listening to the effect of my words, hearing him bringing himself over the edge, it makes me feel so full and close to him, even though we’re apart from each other.

  Imagining his cock while I’m touching myself is just too much. I crest, squeaking out his name so I don’t shout and wake someone in the house. I ride out my orgasm while Shep murmurs in my ear: “Mine. You are mine. All of you.”

  This insane little moment of using our words on each other has opened something up inside me. Something insatiable.

  When I float back down to earth, I tell him, “I am 100 percent sure I’ve never done that before.”

  He chuckles gently. I can hear him catching his breath. “But we’re for sure going to do that again.”

  “I can’t take another night of not feeling you next to me. I don’t even know how I’m going to get to sleep tonight.”

  “Don’t worry, baby girl. You’ll sleep. You’d better sleep, because tomorrow night you are in for it. For real.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Shep

  The next morning over breakfast, Jane’s lips are curved in mischief.

  “Last night was fun,” I say, sipping my coffee while standing by the kitchen sink, one hand on her hip.

  “It was.” she says.

  I lean in and take a deep inhale of her honey scent. Damn whoever is not turning the city upside down to find her right now.

  “Whoever is missing you right now doesn’t deserve you,” I say.

  Her eyes go wide. “I hardly know enough about myself to know if that’s true. What if I’m a complete dolt? What if I’m mean to animals?”

  “I don’t think you’re mean to animals.”

  “For all you know, my old personality will come back and I’ll be a different person. A person you might not like.”

  “Impossible,” I say.

  “Why is that impossible?”

  “Because I see you. You’re kind. Trusting. You aren’t afraid to try new things.”

  “Chicken and waffles is not really a stretch. I welcome all carbs including those that are involved in breading poultry.”

  “And you’re funny.”

  She sighs. “You should stop paying me compliments, or I’m going to fall for you.”

  I wrap her up in my arms and look over her head, out onto the view out the kitchen sink window. Pops’s house is on a hill overlooking the city.

  “I want to go to work with you,” she says.

  I look at her. She’s biting her lip, looking hopeful.

  She chirps, “Put me to work. Maybe I’ve always wanted to be a barista?”

  I laugh. “I send people to school for that. But if you want a job, it’s yours. I can use a floater. Can you work a register? Grind beans? Wash tables?”

  “Um, yes?”

  “Is that an answer or a question?”

  “It’s a declaration. I want a job.”

  I set down my coffee cup and circle my arms around her hips. “I like the sound of that. Then I can keep my eye on you.”

  “I like you keeping an eye on me. It’ll be nice foreplay for later.”

  Shit, there’s my cock, waking up again. If I didn’t think Pops would be awake any minute I might bend this girl over the table and take her right now. She looks so damn sexy in my day-old gym clothes. Mixing her scent with mine.

  It’s enough to make me ache to have her every morning. To meld our lives together. Forget whatever bad shit happened to her yesterday, or the day before, and start over with a clean slate, together.

  I kiss her on the forehead. “I really want to make out.”

  “Same,” she says.

  “But we gotta get to work early.”
r />   “Do we have a break time?”

  “As the owner, I can take a break whenever I want. I mean, I did skip out on about nine hours yesterday.”

  She laughs. “That’s inexcusable. You should fire you.”

  I say, “I should.”

  I really should wait until break time to kiss her properly. Sneak her into my office and lock the door for five minutes and taste her mouth.

  But I can’t wait another second. I lean in and cover her lips with mine.

  I hear a tiny gasp of surprise from her, followed by her hands on my ass like she owns it.

  Her lips are warm and soft but teasing. I press deeper and she opens her mouth to me, welcoming my tongue. She tastes like exotic fruits and spices.

  She seems to know what to do, the way her hands snake over my ass. Her tongue swiping over mine.

  Shit. She kisses like a wife.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jane

  He pulls back. “Time for work.”

  I try to hide the tiny bit of hurt at the fact that he stopped kissing me.

  But he’s right. I don’t want to be late for my first day.

  And besides, the longer we spend making out, the more in danger I am of spilling the beans.

  I woke up this morning remembering everything.

  At least, I’m 99 percent sure I remember everything.

  I slept like an angel after that horny phone sex session with Shep.

  When I woke up, everything became clear.

  Shep was right. I had walked out of the compound late Thursday night, or early Friday morning, after a pretty shocking scare.

  Nobody had hurt me, at least not physically.

  What came back to me was in flashes and emotions, but I pieced it all together.

  An engagement was arranged by my uncle on my nineteenth birthday, to a man who seemed pleasant enough but did not love me. On Thursday night, the women in the compound had thrown me a personal shower/bachelorette sleepover — that’s where I’d gotten the pink frilly nightie. Somebody had procured some forbidden champagne for the party. It had made me tipsy. I was going to sneak over to my fiancé’s house in the middle of the night. I wore the nightie to surprise him, to compel him to love me. I didn’t want to wait until our wedding night to know what sex was like. I wanted him to help me lose my virginity before the wedding. I just wanted to know. I was curious. And I was tired of all the damn rules.

  And then everything backfired.

  I locked all those unpleasant details up when I heard someone making breakfast in the kitchen this morning at Levi’s house.

  I had been all set to tell Shep the entire story, but he looked so pleased with himself, presenting me with eggs and bacon and leftover waffles.

  But I could not ruin the moment with my drama.

  We are together; that’s all that matters. I hope.

  I put on jeans for the first time. A borrowed pair of old jeans from Cherie, but still. They fit me perfectly and feel amazing. I finish it off with the Cortex tee-shirt Shep gives me—proud Levi has a stack of them in his closet.

  “Well now I understand what all the fuss over jeans and tee-shirts is about. It feels good!” I say to Shep as we make our way to his car.

  “You’ve never worn jeans before?” he asks, when we pull out onto the freeway.

  “The women where I live aren’t allowed to wear pants,” I say.

  He takes my hand as we drive, and it feels like we’ve been married for a century and are still in love.

  Love. Is that what I’m feeling?

  Better not to ask. Whatever is happening right now, I like it. And I want to enjoy it.

  I’ve enjoyed so little when it comes to men, I want to hold on to this stage of…whatever this is.

  “So you remember not being allowed to wear jeans. What else weren’t you allowed to do?”

  “I’m afraid if I tell you, it might scare you away,” I say.

  He parks his car behind Cortex and turns to me. “Listen, Jane. I care about what happened to you, but not so much that it’s going to take away from what I feel for you. I’m crazy about you. I’m falling…no, I’ve already fallen for you. You make me feel like I’m not just a spoiled, vain kid with an expensive hobby. You believe in me. And I think you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

  I look down in my lap. “I don’t know what’s so brave about wandering into a coffee shop and asking for help.”

  Shep rests his forehead against mine. “Sometimes asking for help is the bravest thing you can do.”

  I suck in my breath because I know what this is. This is love.

  And I don’t care if I’m the one to say it first.

  “I love you, Shep.”

  “I love you too, Sweet Jane.”

  He kisses me again, with lips crashing against mine. The kiss in the kitchen earlier was sensuous and tender. This is different. This is hungry and bordering on wild and makes me lose my senses as well as my breath.

  “We’re going to be late for work,” I say when I come up for air.

  Instead of agreeing with me, he reaches his hand between my thighs and surprises me by cupping my mound.

  I gasp and bite my lip. “Shep! What are you doing? Here?”

  “Yeah,” he says, giving it a squeeze and staring at me with danger in his eyes. “That was your consequence for saying ‘I love you’ first.”

  I sigh as he squeezes my sex again. His eyes soften and he licks his lips while he watches my face.

  “Uhm…I like this kind of consequence for breaking your rules,” I slur out, my head lolling back, enjoying it like the ultimate massage. A massage that makes my nipples taut and achy for his touch. “But don’t we need to go in and open the shop?”

  He murmurs. “Yeah. Just one more minute. There’s something I need.”

  Shep unzips my fly and tugs the denim out of the way. I know I shouldn’t, but I lift my hips off the seat so his fingers can find their way home.

  “What’s that, Shep?” I say.

  He slides his fingers into my folds, and the guttural sound coming from him grows fiercer. He finds my opening and slides one finger into my pussy.

  “Cream for my coffee,” he says.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shep

  In the break room, I watch my Jane put on her apron.

  She in turn watches me dip my finger into my coffee and swirl it around. The hot liquid does not even register pain on my skin. Her eyes go wide and her cheeks flush. I let her watch me raise the cup to my lips, close my eyes and sip.

  “So good,” I say, not breaking eye contact.

  She licks her lips. “Have you burned your finger?”

  “Probably. Maybe you got some magic salve where the cream came from.”

  Jane’s eyes flash at me.

  She’s about to say something saucy—I can feel it—when Tamira pops her head in the break room.

  “Store’s open, where do you want me?”

  I nod and explain to Tamira that Jane is our newest employee. “I want you watching the team, and I want Jane watching our people on the register so she can learn. And float her around wherever we need her so she can learn the business.”

  Tamira nods and dashes out to the front.

  As we follow her in, I ask Jane if she’s remembered her real name.

  “My real name? My real name is whatever you call me. My real name is whatever name I choose to have in my new life. My name is Jane.”

  I could not fucking love her more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Jane

  I never had a job at the compound, other than maintaining a vegetable garden. I’d done it so well they promoted me to manager; that’s how I got the privilege of owning a mobile phone that I currently do not have with me.

  I’ve occasionally been out shopping and to restaurants before, so I understand basically all the tasks that Tamira asks me to do.

  As I grind beans, take orders, and do a dozen other menial tasks arou
nd the shop, I’m reminded of times I went with my female chaperones around the city to do our shopping.

  We make all our own clothes and grow most of our food. Some things, like flour, we had to go out and shop for. And sometimes, my aunts would decide to bend the rules and let us stop to eat in a restaurant. We often went to big chain coffee places and I would get those crazy multi-colored drinks. And I could use the WiFi on my phone. I even set up some social media accounts, which were strictly forbidden. Those were the best days of my former life.

  I don’t feel particularly rebellious right now, even though I’ve done a dozen things in the last 24 hours of freedom that I know I’m not supposed to do. Dirty talk? Check. Heavy petting? Lord, yes, give me more of that. Being alone with a man? My entire body shivers as I wipe down recently emptied tables at the thought of being alone with Shep tonight. Drinking coffee…wearing jeans…challenging a man? Check, check and check.

  The best part was realizing none of it was wrong…or “sinful” as the elders like to call it.

  On the compound, I felt safest when our uncles did their nightly rounds of walking the perimeters of the compound with their assault rifles, watching the woods carefully, while the aunts put us to bed with our prayers and accountings of our wrongdoings that day.

  Today, free, in the city, holding down a job, under the watch of the most thrillingly dangerous man in my world, I feel safest of all.

  Suddenly a voice slashes through the moment.

  “Is this how you planned to spend your wedding day while your groom is in his bed, overcome with grief?”

  I whirl around and come face to face with Uncle Merle.

  “Uncle! What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for my niece. Have you seen her? She used to be sweet and now she’s slutting around in a coffee shop.”

  I put my hands up to try to get him to calm down and lower his voice.

  But it’s too late. Shep has arrived, and he looks like he’s ready to pound Uncle Merle into the terrazzo flooring. Which would be a shame. It’s very pretty.

  “I’m taking you home, Hildie Mae,” Merle says, reaching a hand toward my shoulder.