Tattooed Dots

by Kimberly Knight

  “Hey Peanut, once you get cleaned up, I need to talk to you,” I said, walking into the house after practice.

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “What’s it about?”

  “Just go get cleaned up and ready for dinner. We’ll talk then.”

  Cheyenne left to take a shower while I made one of Cheyenne’s favorite meals: chicken teriyaki bowls. I loved that it was her favorite because it was easy to make.

  “Did you like having Brooke at your game?” I asked as we sat at our kitchen table.

  “I guess,” she shrugged.

  “Remember how I said that she would come to a lot of them and she said she would help you practice and get better?”

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s not going to be able to make it this weekend.”

  “Why, did you break up?”

  “No, of course not.” That thought killed me just thinking about it. “She’s sick.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  “It’s more than a cold or the flu, Peanut.”

  “What is it?”

  “Do you know what a tumor is?”

  “I think so,” she said, sticking a bite of the salty sweet chicken in her mouth.

  “Well, a tumor is like a ball that grows inside you.”

  “Eww!”

  I had to take a deep breath before my next description. “Sometimes that ball can be cancer.”

  “She’s…she’s dying?”

  “No, Peanut…well…we don’t know. We aren’t sure if it is cancer or not.”

  “So sometimes a tumor isn’t a bad thing?”

  “Right, but Brooke is in a lot of pain and she has to have it removed. Next Friday, she’s having surgery to remove it.”

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  “She can’t come to your games anymore until she gets better.”

  “How long will that be?”

  “I’m not sure, Peanut. Hopefully very soon,” I sighed…hopefully soon.

  “Okay.”

  “On Saturday after your game, I need to go take care of her. She’s getting ready to have surgery and she needs me to take care of her.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Not this time. I won’t be back until Monday night for practice and you have school.”

  “Oh,” she frowned looking into her bowl.

  “Do you want to visit her in the hospital and bring her flowers? I bet she will want to hear all about your games that she’s missing.”

  “Okay!”

  When I finally made it to Boston Saturday night, Brooke looked worried. She tried to act like she was happy, but I would catch her thinking a lot. I tried taking her mind off everything and I think that only lasted for a few hours.

  “Want to go out tonight?” I asked after I set my bag in her bedroom when I arrived a little before five.

  “Out where?”

  “Well, you know, I haven’t even taken you on a real date, yet.”

  “Huh…I guess you’re right,” she said, leaning on the doorframe, watching me.

  “Let me take my girlfriend on a real date before she has to have a month and half recovery after surgery and we don’t know what that entails.”

  She thought for a moment. I saw something in her eyes as she looked away. I wasn’t sure, but she didn’t have the same energy as she had before we found out about the tumor. She didn’t look sick, she just didn’t look like the girl I met a month before. “Okay, where do you want to go?”

  “Not sure. I’ll figure it out, go get dressed.” She looked down at her yoga pants. “No, dressed up. I’m taking my lady to a nice dinner.”

  “Okay.” She smiled. It was almost her normal smile. I would get it before the night was over.

  *~*~*

  I called ahead to the Italian restaurant and put in our name. When we arrived we had a table for two available for us that overlooked the harbor. I ordered a bottle of wine and we nibbled on bread while we waited for our entrees.

  Brooke wore a simple black strapless dress and black heels. She was gorgeous. When I wanted more than a random dick suck, I took a few women out over the last five years. Usually they tried too hard. They would wear short dresses that showed their ass when they bent over, a ton of make-up and a bottle of perfume. At the time, that was my type. Now I had the girl of my dreams—the one that didn’t need make-up to be beautiful or close-to-nothing clothes; I didn’t need the slutty look to turn me on. Hell Brooke’s yoga pants turned me on!

  We ate a family style meal and then I ordered her favorite dessert; crème brûlée.

  “How did you know that was my favorite?” she asked after the waiter left.

  “Because you ordered it every night on the cruise.”

  “Oh.” She laughed. “I guess I did. Do you know how to make it?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Not yet?”

  “I plan to,” I said with a smirk.

  “If you do that, you’ll make me fat.” She laughed again. Her smile was almost normal.

  “Trust me, I won’t let that happen. I know of a few ways to burn those calories,” I winked at her.

  The waiter brought the dessert and I let Brooke have most of it. I don’t think she realized it, but she kept going for more and I let her. After dinner, we walked down to the harbor and walked along the water, looking at the cityscape as it reflected off the dark water. It was a warm night, the stars shining bright and everything was perfect.

  Brooke asked about Cheyenne’s game and I told her how Cheyenne got out a few times at bat, but did much better in the field; only one ball went between her legs. I also told her how in practice and at the game, Cheyenne was trying to dive for balls when they were grounders instead of line drives. She wasn’t even close to catching the line drives and she was too soon to stop the ball that was just a grounder. Her timing was off.

  “I’m going to have to show her how to do it,” Brooke said, resting her head on my arm as we walked.

  “Yeah—yeah you are.”

  “If I don’t have nerve damage after my surgery.”

  “You won’t.”

  “We don’t know that.”

  “I do. You’re my Superwoman.”

  “Well, let’s hope. I just want the tumor out, for it to not be cancer and for me to not be in pain anymore.”

  “I want the same, Baby,” I said and kissed the side of her head.

  We walked for about thirty minutes, watching people walk along the water and some sitting on benches making out. I hated the distance between us. I didn’t care that we’d only known each other for a short time—sometimes you just know. It took me thirty-one years to find her, but I knew I had, and I’d be damned if God would take her from me.

  When it started to get late, we went back to her apartment and showered. I used to shower in the mornings, but since Brooke took hers at night and I wanted to shower with her, I started to do the same. We didn’t take our normal long shower that consisted of me fucking her against the wall or bending her over to take her from the back. It would be my last night with her for a long time, and I wanted to savor it.

  We toweled off and I led her to her bed still naked and took her face in my hands and kissed her as we stood by the edge. Over the night during our date, I had stolen kisses, but this was nothing in comparison. The kiss was hot, eager and I didn’t want it to stop. Kissing her was one of my favorite things in the world. Her lips were always soft, tender and tasted like cherry Chapstick.

  I licked her bottom lip, moving down her neck and licked her shoulder blade then followed my trail back with kisses. She moaned, running her hands in my hair as her arms wrapped around my neck.

  My hands slid down her sides and back up to cup each breast, our mouths kissing again, tasting and sucking. I wanted this time to go slow. I knew she was hurting, but apparently, she didn’t want it to be slow.

  She released my hair, turned and pushed me down on the bed. Her tongue ran down my abs and
she looked up right before she got to my manhood. I raised an eyebrow at her, but we didn’t speak as she kneeled in front of my bent legs.

  Over the years, I’d only wanted women to suck me off because it was easier to fuck them if I wanted to—it was like a game. With Brooke, my dick actually craved her pussy and not her mouth, even though as she grabbed the base of my dick with her tiny hand and licked the underside, my cock responded like your first piece of cake after you’d been dieting for a year. It missed the small, warm, wet, tight hole and twitched with each swipe of her tongue.

  I rested my hands behind me on the bed as I watched her swirl her tongue along the tip of my dick and back down the side. Her hand still held my cock up and then as she lowered her hallow cheeks around my shaft, I held my breath. Nothing and I mean nothing compares to watching the love of your life suck you off. Go ahead, think I’m some mushy sap, but there was just something different with this blow job.

  Fuck, it was my girl sucking me off, not some random chick at Halo.

  My hips had a mind of their own as they thrust upward, fucking her mouth. I wanted her to be in control, but my hips were greedy. Her mouth and hand worked in unison as she bobbed up and down, her saliva coating my dick and her long brown hair tickling my thighs. I wasn’t sure how long I was going to last. Usually, I could go a good ten minutes or so before I blew my load unless I needed to rush it to get back on the floor at Halo.

  But I didn’t want to come in her mouth—no, I did—no, I didn’t—fuck I didn’t know, but all I knew was it felt fucking good as her lips tightened a little as she sucked. I needed to get it together. I didn’t want to come in her mouth, I wanted to spill my seed in her pussy because that was mine—all mine.

  “Baby, I’m going to come soon, and I don’t want to do it in your mouth.” I said, moving her hair to one of her shoulders.

  She looked up at me, her lips wet with saliva and a few drops of pre-cum. “You can, though. It’s okay.”

  “I’ve waited too long to just come in your mouth. I need your pussy.” I smiled.

  “Okay,” she said, standing and switching places with me.

  “Is it going to hurt your shoulder if you’re kneeling on the bed?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said, not wasting anytime. She got on all fours on the bed and inched back until her ass was just over the side—the perfect height for my dick to slide in.

  I placed kisses along her neck, working my way down—it was like my signature move with her, I wanted to kiss every inch of her and I always started at her neck. When I had kissed down her spine—placed extra kisses on the spot where her tumor was, I placed my hands on her hips and slowly slid my cock inside her pussy. She moaned, tilted her head back and we began to rock in sync.

  I watched as my shaft slid in and almost out of her pussy, her juices slicking my cock and my balls slapping against the bottom of her pussy—it was the perfect view—the best view in the house.

  Her hips kept bucking against mine and I slid one of my hands under her belly to caress her breast and pinch her nipple. She moaned and my rhythm faltered, but quickly regained the correct movement and my free hand went between her legs and massaged her clit.

  She was dripping and my cock slid in and out effortlessly. She never mentioned her shoulder and we continued in this position, our bodies covered in a slight sheen of sweat, my eyes not leaving our connecting point as I pumped my hips. Her body began to tighten slightly and I knew she was close. I was, too. I thrust harder, balls slapping, and I squirted my seed deep inside her as her body followed with a shake and then she leaned forward on the bed, me on her back as I kissed her bare neck again.

  We took another shower and then climbed in the bed with her head on my chest, her wearing the smile I fell in love with.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Brooke

  I didn’t sleep the night before my surgery. Easton came to make sure I was okay and to be there for me. He slightly snored beside me as I stared at the ceiling. Every thought was running through my head. What if I didn’t wake up? What if they did have to go through my chest? What if I died on the table? What if I had cancer? What if they couldn’t get the tumor out because of the nerve? What if I was in pain forever?

  I think I fell asleep around four in the morning. I had to be at the hospital at seven and therefore only got about two hours of sleep. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything after midnight and honestly, I couldn’t even if I tried.

  Nicole and Avery picked us up at my apartment at six-fifteen. It was good that Easton would have someone there with him while I had the surgery. Doctor Bloom estimated it to last about five hours.

  Just like the day of my biopsy, no one talked. I mean…this was the day, not just a test. Easton held my hand like he had the time before and instead of not talking and staring out the window, I turned to him and mouthed that I was scared. He unbuckled his seatbelt, slid to the middle seat and wrapped me in his arms. He whispered in my ear that everything was going to be okay. I wanted to believe him, but he wasn’t the one going under the knife.

  *~*~*

  We arrived at the hospital and I checked in with the appropriate people. After I waited about thirty minutes of people being called before me, a nurse came out and said it was my turn. She wouldn’t let anyone back with me so I kissed Easton goodbye and he whispered in my ear that he would be there when I woke up.

  I followed the nurse, she took my vitals and then she started to prep me for the surgery. They stuck IVs in my hands (not my arms even though I asked) and I was completely naked under my hospital gown because they was going to put a catheter in me.

  I’d never had surgery before. The only thing that happened to me before was bumps and bruises—nothing this extensive.

  As I waited by myself, Doctor Bloom came over and ran everything by me about what would happen up until surgery. Nurses came and introduced themselves to me, some checked to make sure my IVs were correct and some asking me if I was cold. I watched the clock tick, waiting. Doctor Bloom said that they would start close to nine and the clock almost read just that.

  The anesthesiologist came over, talked to me about what he would do and also about the epidural he would administer in the middle of my back once we got into the operating room. After he left, I watched the clock more—there was nothing else to look at. I tried closing my eyes, but there was no way that I would fall asleep.

  Finally, a nurse came and wheeled me to the operating room. I saw the anesthesiologist and after they transferred me to the operating table, he had me sit up and asked me if I knew what Propofol was. I responded, “Michael Jackson’s milk,” and that was all I remembered about going in for surgery.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Easton

  “What are we going to do if she has cancer?” I asked Avery and Nicole. The longer I waited in the waiting room for Brooke’s surgery to be over, the more I worried. In front of Brooke, I tried to keep myself together for her sake. I knew she was freaking out and when she finally admitted to me that she was scared on the way to the hospital—I almost lost it.

  If I was scared, I knew she was one hundred times more scared.

  “Stop freaking out. If you freak out, then I’m going to freak out and then I won’t be able to sit down and it will be your fault as I pace for hours,” Nicole said, not catching a breath.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to lose her.”

  “We won’t, man. Let’s go get some coffee or something,” Avery said and stood up.

  They were right, I needed to distract myself. We had at least five hours to kill. Nicole was Brooke’s emergency contact and they would call her if anything happened. We went to the cafeteria, got a nasty cup of coffee and sat down. We were all quiet. We weren’t supposed to be thinking about the surgery, but it was all we could think about.

  “I think we should tell him,” Avery said to Nicole.

  Nicole’s eyes became wide.

  “Tell me what?”

  �
��It’s too soon,” Nicole said.

  “He’s my best friend,” Avery replied.

  “Um…I’m sitting right here,” I said, looking at them across the booth style table.

  “Fine, go ahead,” Nicole said, giving Avery the okay to tell me something that made me nervous.

  “Nicole’s pregnant.”

  “Oh, shit!” I gasped.

  “Yeah, but it’s too soon. There’s still the chance I could miscarry.”

  “Oh shit,” I said again.

  Avery was smiling at Nicole. I knew for years he wanted to start a family, I just didn’t think he would knock someone up before he got married.

  “How far along? Can’t be too far, right?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure. I missed my period and took the home test on Monday.”

  “Does Brooke know?” I asked.

  “No, we—well I haven’t told anyone. I didn’t want to tell her because of her surgery. I wanted to wait until after and when I knew for sure.”

  “Dude, you’re going to finally be a dad,” I said, leaning over the table and punching his arm.

  “Hope so,” he kissed the side of Nicole’s head and had the biggest smile that I’d seen on his face for years.

  “Anyway, let’s wait and tell Brooke after she gets out of the hospital, okay?” Nicole asked, looking between Avery and me.

  “Yeah, of course,” I agreed. I knew once I saw Brooke, I wouldn’t be thinking about Avery and Nicole’s baby—I would be thinking about my girl.

  We talked more about their plans for the baby. They just found out and wasn’t exactly sure what would happen, but Nicole would move to New York and in with Avery—she wanted to even if she wasn’t pregnant. Brooke would be left in Boston—alone. I wanted her with me in New York anyway and with Nicole moving to New York, it would make Brooke’s move easier in my opinion.