I don’t have a chance to even sputter a response before I’m dragged inside the house and down the long hallway to his office. He throws the door open, and I am shoved inside while he follows and slams the door behind us. He moves with purpose toward me, even as I back myself against his desk, where he crowds my personal space. His whiskey-scented breath wafts over my face and I fight the urge to gag. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Are you still a virgin? And don’t you dare fucking lie!” He is seething before me in a rage.
I nod my head vigorously, too afraid to even evade answering him. He glares at me, waiting for my verbal confirmation. I whisper, “Yes,” while my teeth chatter from my nerves.
He moves in closer and inhales against my hair. “Good, girl. I can sense your fear and know your answer is true. You won’t let that boy take it, right?” I shake my head, feeling faint from holding my breath so I don’t have to smell the whiskey off him. “It won’t be easy. I can see the lust in his eyes, and it won’t be long before he makes his move. The question is, what am I going to do about it?” He moves back so he can look directly in my eyes when he says, “I will make him disappear from your life before that happens. He won’t touch what’s mine. Maybe it’s time I pay Jake Cameron a visit.”
Panic claws at my throat and I beg him, “No. Please. You’ve hurt them enough. You took my mother and me away from them. They’ve already suffered. Please, just leave them alone. I promise to be good.”
He studies me carefully, then asks softly, “What do you mean I took you and your mother away from them?”
Shit! Did I say too much? I have to salvage this. “When you moved us in with you. I lost my best friend and so did Cruz. His dad had to watch his son fall apart when we left. Isn’t that enough?” I dare not mention how much Jake and my mom loved each other. I don’t know if he knew about that and I can’t risk what he’ll do if he finds out. I also don’t want him to know that I’m aware he forced my mom to marry him because of something he had over her.
“I’m thinking your mother said something to you before she died. What did she tell you?” His eyes scan every inch of my face to gauge my reaction.
I’ve become an accomplished actress this last year, so he won’t find what he’s looking for, and I ask him, “What could she have told me? I don’t understand.”
He studies me a moment longer and I’m afraid he sees the lie on my face, but he leans back and shakes his head. “Nothing. You made it sound like you knew something, but you obviously don’t. Now, do you promise you will not let that boy take something I expressly forbid? You remember my threat if he does, right?”
I do and that’s one reason I’ve made other plans. I nod my head and try to look properly reminded and afraid. The fear isn’t an act, though. I look him in the eyes and tell him what he wants to hear. “I promise.”
He moves away from me and walks toward the door but turns back at the last moment. “You will not be alone with him from this moment forward. I want to be informed every time you go out with him and where you’ll be. If I’m not home, you’ll text me these details. If you’re in this house, you’re not to be alone together. I don’t know what type of man Jake Cameron is, but he better not leave my daughter alone with his son, under his roof. If he does, well, I won’t be held accountable for my actions. These are my terms. My trust is not given freely. I won’t interfere with your little romance, but I also won’t allow you to give that boy any opportunities. Are we clear? This is the price for me agreeing to leave the Cameron men alone unless you give me cause not to.”
I want to rail against the injustice of what he’s proposing, but it’s the only way to keep Jake and Cruz safe from Victor. I must think of something to tell Cruz about the new rules for dating him. I bite my lip, then tell Victor I agree to his terms. His smile is self-satisfied and very smug. I vow that one day I’ll wipe it off his face and beat him at this game he’s been playing with my life.
He opens the door and we exit in silence down the hall to the family room where Cruz is waiting for us. As soon as we enter, Cruz stands from the couch he was sitting on and faces us. His eyes scan me with concern, but I keep my face blank and walk over to him and take the seat beside where he was sitting. He lowers himself beside me and grabs my cold hand in his. He gives it a squeeze and I glance into his beautiful blue eyes. He asks me with just a look if I’m okay. I answer him with a look of my own, telling him we’ll talk later. One perk from knowing each other like we do; we can have a conversation without saying a word.
Victor clears his throat and we both turn to look at him. “I’ve got work to do, so I’ll excuse myself. I’m sure you both have things to discuss. Jolene, I trust you will see Cruz out when you’re done and head to bed? It’s getting late.” He gives Cruz a dismissive look and says, “I’m glad we finally had the chance to meet. Jolene will keep me informed about you, I’m sure. Good evening.” With that, he turns and exits the room, leaving us alone.
Cruz brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss against my skin. “Jo, are you okay?”
No. I’m not. I don’t want to have this discussion with him right now, so I lean into his side and say instead, “I don’t want to talk about it tonight. Can you just hold me?”
His face softens as he looks down at me and gathers me in his arms. “Always, Jo. You never have to ask, and I’ll hold you for as long as you need me.”
I bury my face against his shoulder and whisper, “Then you’ll be holding me forever.”
I feel his chest rise and then he kisses the top of my head. “Always together.”
I hadn’t been lying when I told Victor I wasn’t planning for Cruz to be my first. I’ve had another plan all along, and tonight I’m putting it into action.
When I first approached Steph about this idea, she wasn’t sold on it and tried to talk me out of it. When she heard my reasons - minus the part where Victor is concerned - she reluctantly agreed. She’s made me wait until the weekend before Halloween so we can dress in costumes for the college bar she promises we won’t have trouble getting into. The costumes give us the bonus of not being recognized if anyone we know should be there.
I’m wrestling with the skin-tight catsuit of my costume and losing the fight. I growl in frustration. “This was supposed to be for easy access. How am I going to get it off quickly for what we’re planning if I can’t even get the damned thing on?”
Steph glances at where I’m struggling and laughs. “Hey, this isn’t my plan. I just provided the means and the cover. It’s not my fault there weren’t many sexy costumes that came with masks.”
I frown at her. “I don’t understand why I couldn’t be Batgirl. Your costume comes with a skirt which makes it perfect for what I need. How did I get stuck with Catwoman?”
She flips her hair, then checks her lipstick before placing her mask over her eyes. “You’ve got the better rack to fill that costume out. I’d look like a black stick with a tail.”
Not even close. She has an amazing figure, and she knows it. “Bullshit.”
She turns and sees the frustration on my face. Sighing, she admits, “Okay, you’re right, but the goal is to attract the best potential for your goal tonight, and that costume will do it. One look at your tits and ass in that latex, and men will fight each other for the chance to dry hump your leg. It would be wasted on me.”
I almost have it over my chest when she rushes over. I stop and ask her, “What?”
She shakes her head. “You can’t wear a bra with that costume. Off with it. Set those babies free.”
I clamp my hands over my breasts. “No way! I’m not willing to get completely naked for this to happen. I only need one part of my body naked for that.”
“And that handy little flap in the suit for peeing will serve the purpose. Honestly, did you not even notice it, or are you trying to give me a headache?” She makes a spinning motion with her finger and I turn around and allow her to help me get the bra off. I will not admit that I wasn’t aware
of the flap she mentioned.
Once the bra is free, I let it fall and yank the restrictive material over my chest and up my arms. She helps me to zip up the back, then steps back so I can check myself in the floor-length mirror on her door. I look like something you’d see in one of those porn parodies, or maybe a dominatrix with a cat fetish. Steph hands me the cat's ears and the eye mask.
Once they’re on, she whistles and claps her hands. “I almost want to do you myself in that outfit. Damn, bitch. I’ve seen you naked, but somehow you look even better in black rubber.”
I spin and offer her a slutty pose. “Let the boys bring their toys for this kitty to play with.”
She laughs and slaps my ass when she walks past me to grab her small clutch purse. “They won’t know whether to offer you their cream or make you purr. I hope I remember some of those karate lessons my dad made me take. I have a feeling I’ll need them tonight. Maybe I should put you on a leash.”
I scowl at her. “I’d like to see you try. Just watch my back for me. I’ll handle the men.”
She opens her bedroom door and says over her shoulder, “Says the virginal sacrifice about to enter the dragon’s lair.”
A nervous laugh escapes me as I follow her down the stairs to the front of her house. As long as I don’t think too hard about what’s about to happen, I can pretend I’m brave and not about to run away screaming in hysterics. This is by far the craziest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m terrified. I keep reminding myself that this is the new me and I’m grabbing the reins of my life.
Maybe by the time we get there, I’ll believe it.
The bar is packed with bodies in full costume. It was easy enough to get past security. I just had to stand there and let a guy ogle my ample chest, while Steph worked her seduction on the younger bouncer.
I scan the crowd and can’t believe the number of people crammed into this place. The lineup for the bar is so deep, I doubt we’ll get a drink anytime soon. Steph said we needed to arrive later in the night when inhibitions are low and alcohol-induced hormones are high. I’m not sure I want a sloppy drunk ridding me of my hymen, but by the looks of this crowd, I doubt many of the guys here are too sober. Beggars can’t be choosers and all that.
This is my grand plan. I’m saving Cruz from Victor’s wrath. If losing my v-card is questioned, I’ll be able to say Cruz didn’t claim it. I also won’t have this stupid piece of skin keeping Cruz at arm’s length. I’ll be free to be with him the way I want, with nothing between us to ruin our first time. I don’t want him worrying about hurting me instead of making a beautiful memory together. It’s also my way of exerting my independence and taking charge of my body. No one gets to take something from me that should never be an offering to begin with.
Steph signals she wants a drink and grabs my hand, leading us over to the bar. The music is so loud that we can’t hear each other without yelling. She taps the shoulder of the guys in front of us, whispers something in their ear, and I watch in awe as they part and let us go ahead of them. Two of them are in army fatigues with camo paint on their faces, and the third guy is dressed like a cowboy, complete with chaps and a Stetson. Out of the three, he’s definitely the best looking. He gives me a wink and I feel my lips stretch in a smile.
Steph yanks me away before I can do more than appreciate the way he looks in his chaps. “Hey,” I yell in her ear, “he was cute. He could’ve been the guy.”
She leans in and yells back, “Didn’t anyone tell you to shop around and not settle for the first thing you see?” I lean back and glare at her. She laughs and pulls me back in. “Aim big, toots. He was cute, but the bulge was small. You can thank me later. Trust me, you want something that will prepare you for Cruz. An Oscar Mayer Wiener won’t cut it. Yes, bigger will hurt more the first time, but trust me, bigger is always better.”
I don’t know whether to be entertained that she’s checked out Cowboy’s package or appalled that she’s obviously checked out Cruz’s.
She quickly makes her way through the men in line, getting us to the counter in no time. I don’t even want to know what she said to those guys to get them to let us ahead of them. We get our beers and two shots of something called a Blow Job. Not the image I want to be reminded of tonight. I already spend far too much time obsessing over the fact that Tisha gave one to Cruz. I know it’s not fair of me, especially considering what I plan on doing tonight, but logic has no place when it comes to jealousy.
As we make our way back through the throng of people, a few of the guys are waiting for us. Actually, all the guys who let us go in front of them are waiting. I look at Steph with a suspicious lift of my eyebrow, but she just shrugs a shoulder and approaches the group of waiting men. Dipping her finger into the whipped cream on top of her shot, she rubs it across her lips. One of the guys who let us in the line leans forward and licks the white froth from her. My mouth drops open, and she repeats the process down the line of guys. When she gets to the trio that let us go first - and the cowboy with the small pistol - she rubs the last of the cream across her chest. The army duo dive at her, each taking a side and licking her skin clean.
I’m speechless. I know my friend is brazen, but this is almost too much.
She playfully pats them on their cheeks when they’re done, then turns and clinks her glass against the one I’m holding in my frozen hand, and tips it against her lips and drains it. She looks at me expectantly and says, “Tits up, Jolene. Swallow that load. I didn’t go through all that so we can get you drunk faster, just to have you stand there.”
I numbly tip the drink to my mouth and am surprised to find it’s actually quite good as I swallow it down. I lick the whipped cream from my lips and giggle when I see several pairs of eyes following the path of my tongue. Steph nods in approval and points her bottle in the direction of the dance floor. I bob my head and allow her to lead us in that direction.
The floor is a massive sea of bodies in colorful and creative costumes. We push our way past a mermaid, a few superheroes that give us high-fives for our own costumes, and an alien. We raise our beers in unison and take a healthy drink before gyrating to the heavy rhythm pumping from the speakers above us.
We dance to several songs, then Steph grabs her phone to check for missed texts. Satisfied with whatever she sees there, she tells me she has to use the bathroom and I should wait for her near the front door where the crowd is thinnest.
As I make my way off the dance floor, I take this opportunity to check out some available options for the night while I wait. I find a spot against a wall and lean back, observing the surrounding scene. Seeing a few interested looks aimed my way, I’m debating how I should approach this task when a hand latches onto my arm. Feeling defensive and slightly panicked, I yank my arm away and spin around, ready to berate whoever dared touch me uninvited, but the words die in my mouth when I’m met with a pair of velvet blue eyes, clouded with anger and pain.
Cruz’s eyes darken further as he gets a good look at my costume, but there’s hurt in his eyes when they meet mine again and he asks, “Why?”
My night and my stupid plan have just gone to shit, and I’m pretty sure my cowardly friend hiding in the bathroom is to blame.
Et Tu, Brute?
When it Hurts
Before I can wrap my head around the fact that he’s here, or even formulate a reply, Cruz spins around and storms out the front door. Panic and dread force my feet to chase after him and I follow his path like it’s a trail of pain that is left in his wake. All I can do is pray that he gives me the chance to explain. It’s not as bad as he thinks, and if he hears my reasons he’ll understand, right? Wrong. My subconscious hisses that word at me with all the disgust I deserve. What was I thinking?
He will never forgive me.
I run behind him as he marches down the street and around the corner. My panic increases when I lose sight of him for a moment, but when I careen around the corner, I find him leaning against the side of a building with his head tipped
back and his chest heaving. He won’t look at me, but he has to know I’m standing right here.
I take a breath for courage, and ask, “How did you know I was here?”
Still not looking at me, he says, “Steph texted me. She said she couldn’t let you go through with it and told me what ‘it’ was, then asked me to come and get you - as if I wasn’t already out the door when she told me what you were planning.”
Steph must have texted him when she was at the bar waiting for our drinks. Now I’m almost sick with fear over what he must think. In my stricken state, I blurt out the worst excuse. “It had nothing to do with you, or us.” I know I’ve made a huge mistake as soon as the words fall from my lips.
His head snaps down and his eyes narrow to slits as he regards me. He takes several deep breaths before he yells, “Are you really that naïve?”
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