Sex and the Social Network

by Victoria Lexington

  Arielle and I had a lovely afternoon in the park. I packed her crackers and cheese, grapes, and a bag of pretzels. She was such a picky eater and barely liked anything. The funny thing was that I’d tried all the tactics promoted by the so-called experts, including not giving in unless she ate what was in front of her. She once went two whole days without eating. So either she was the most stubborn person I had ever met or she had an incredible foundation for standing her ground. She wants what she wants and won’t settle for anything else.

  I wish I’d had her strength six years ago.

  LIZ

  The universe was trying to tell me something; that much was clear. Left and right, friends were telling me of their marital indiscretions. I’d tried warning them, but the high road I’d taken suddenly came to a fork. My ex-boyfriend, Nick, sent me a friendship request on Facebook. I really didn’t know if I wanted to see pictures of his wife and kids, or to be in touch with him at all. But ignoring his friend request would only let him know he could still get to me. So there was that.

  Nicholas Riggins, my 199th friend on Facebook. Yay, me.

  Just when I was about to call it a night and shut down my computer, the Facebook chat box dinged. I figured it was Maria, but then there he was. Nicholas Riggins, my first real love.

  His profile picture was so him. He had on a sleeveless shirt that showed off his bulging biceps and was smiling from ear to ear. His chestnut-colored hair was still wavy, and his blue eyes were as bright as ever.

  It was funny how different Nick and Braden looked. Nick’s hair was so dark it was almost black, while Braden was a towhead. Nick was tan and rugged, Braden sun-kissed and clean-shaven. The only similarity was that they each had sparkling blue eyes, but light eyes have always been a weakness of mine.

  NICK: Hey, Liz, how are you?

  LIZ: I’m good, how have you been?

  NICK: Great, I have my own business. I’m married and my wife, Nicole, is pregnant with our first baby.

  LIZ: Awesome, congrats! When is she due?

  NICK: She just finished the first trimester, so we have another six months. Tell me what’s been going on with you.

  LIZ: I’m married to Braden. We have one son and two daughters. I work as a copy editor at an advertising agency.

  NICK: Sounds great.

  LIZ: Listen, Nick, I hear my baby crying. I have to run. Nice catching up.

  NICK: Oh, okay. You too. Hope we can chat again soon.

  Alexa wasn’t really crying, but all of a sudden I felt sick to my stomach. Shit, he really wants to chat again soon? My hands were still shaking. My long lost love, Nicholas, wants to catch up with me. Life is so funny. I wanted to be friends with him after we broke up, but he was too busy. That’s code for “I have no balls and can’t tell you it’s just too hard to be friends.”

  I was going to play this by ear. It’d taken me a long time to get over Nick. I had a bad feeling it would take a lot less time to get under him. I crack myself up.

  That night I was lying in my bed reading Good Night Moon with Alexa. She smelled delicious, like Johnson’s baby shampoo and sweet baby’s breath. I loved it when she nuzzled up so close to me like that. She wouldn’t tolerate even an inch between us when we were cuddling.

  Sometimes when I looked at her, I couldn’t believe that she was almost not in our lives. Braden and I had agreed to have two kids. After Don and Isabella were born, we felt very lucky they were both healthy and we had one of each gender. We thought life was perfect. Alexa was an unexpected surprise. Sometimes when she looked at me extra lovingly, I got choked up. To think that I was upset when I first found out I was pregnant with her. Now she was my sunshine. Alexa had helped redefine happiness for me.

  ❧

  At work the next day, my friend Gabby pulled me into the bathroom. She and I had become good friends through work; she was one of the funniest people I knew. She was your typical Philly girl: loud, obnoxious, and brash. She wore her terra-cotta hair in a sassy bob and always had on lots of makeup. Gabby was short and a little chunky, but she had a confidence about her that seemed to draw men to her, and she flaunted her big booty everywhere we went. Construction workers loved her, and whenever we’d go downstairs to grab lunch, they’d whistle at her, “Ay Mami, move that thing. Can I have some fries with that shake?”

  “Oh my God, Liz, I have to talk to you.” She seemed excited.

  “What is it, Gabby?”

  “Do you remember Todd Roberts from Creative?” Her eyes lit up.

  “Sure, didn’t he recently move over to the Sánchez Group?”

  “Yes, exactly, and I ran into him at the National Advertising Conference over the weekend.”

  “Oh, cool. How is he?” I was still trying to figure out why this was a big deal.

  “He’s good. He looks great.” Gabby swooned.

  “And?” I tilted my head knowing there was more to this story.

  “And we’ve been flirting on Facebook and he wants me.” She smiled from ear to ear.

  “He wants you to what?” I asked stupidly.

  “He wants to fuck me, you dumbass,” Gabby said in an annoyed tone.

  “Oh, duh! Well, of course he does. So what are you going to do?”

  “I think I’m going to meet him,” Gabby told me with slight hesitation in her voice.

  I wanted to tell her not to do it, that it was wrong, that she was married, that her husband could find out, that she could get hurt. I wanted to tell her a million reasons why she shouldn’t, but I knew from what was going on with Maria and Enrique that nothing I said would have made a difference.

  Gabby wasn’t happy in her marriage, but I didn’t think cheating was the answer. I did manage to eke out, “Oh, Gabby, please be careful. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve been hurting long enough. It’s time I did something I want to do. I deserve that much.” Gabby looked at herself the mirror and tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear and half smiled at her reflection.

  She looked desperate in that moment, her eyes heavy with sorrow.

  I grabbed her hand and softly held it in mine for a moment. “Okay, just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, but her mind seemed to be somewhere else completely.

  I felt like I was somehow responsible for the Maria/Enrique saga, so I told myself that I wouldn’t get involved in Gabby’s affair; I wouldn’t even ask her about it. I told myself that if I did, then I was condoning it, and that is the last thing I thought Gabby needed in her life.

  Later, I’d come to regret this. Maybe if I had been there for Gabby, she could have come to me, told me her predicament. Maybe, somehow, I could have helped.

  GABBY

  Flashback: Three years ago

  I answered the door for the Chinese delivery guy. He didn’t look like what I might’ve pictured as a pedophile, but when he smiled at me, I got chills, and shivers ran up and down my spine. There was no mistaking what he was.

  He was short and pudgy with greasy, brown hair, mud-brown eyes, coffee-stained teeth, and big glasses with black rims. He flashed me a menacing smile when I paid him that made me feel like I was going to puke. I closed the door behind me, double-checking to be sure the deadbolt was securely locked. When we sat down to eat, I could only pick at my lo mein. I had lost my appetite.

  Something really bothered me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. I’ve often thought I have a certain sense about people. My mom used to tell us that she was a witch, that she had powers. We laughed at her, and I thought she was a little crazy until my sixth sense started showing up.

  Even if Mr. Creepy had been a molester, it’s not like I could call the cops and say, “Hi, I have powers and they’re telling me the Chinese delivery guy is a pedophile.” Plus, the nudge I felt was more than that. He reminded me of someone, and I was going crazy trying to remember who.

  That night I lay in bed with my eyes closed, wracking my brain for when I migh
t have met him and where. I went through every scenario: school, supermarket, gym, social events. Then it hit me. This wasn’t someone from present day. He reminded me of my uncle. Yes, he reminded me of my Uncle Eugene.

  Uncle Gene was stockier and had grey hair and a big hook nose, but he did wear the same kind of dark-rimmed glasses as Mr. Creepy. It wasn’t how he looked that reminded me of Uncle Eugene, though; it was how he made me feel. Scared.

  I closed my eyes, and a sea of memories came crashing in on me.

  I was ten years old the first time my Uncle Gene and Aunt Charlene drove to our house to have Sunday dinner with us. I remember my parents needed to go to the supermarket. Aunt Charlene wanted to go with them, so they asked if Uncle Gene could watch me while they were gone.

  Gene told me to sit on his lap and bounced me up and down. It was fun; I liked him. He asked me to rub the outside of his pants and placed my little hand there. “Here, sweetie, see how happy you make me?” I didn’t know how bouncing on him could make him happy or why all of a sudden there was a hard stick in his slacks, but he was nice and paying attention to me, so I did as he asked.

  My dad was always too busy with my brother, the football star, to pay any attention to me at all. I was just a dumb little girl, but Gene liked me, maybe even more than he liked my brother, so I wanted to please him.

  “Now, Gabby, I have to tell you a secret. Do you like secrets?”

  I nodded yes.

  “Good, me too. This will be our special game, our little secret, okay? Only you and me can know about it. You can’t tell your parents or your brother or even your best friends. If you do, they’ll punish you for being naughty. You don’t want that, do you? ‘Cause you’re a good little girl. Aren’t you, sweetie?”

  I nodded again.

  “I knew you were special,” he said happily. “You are such a good little girl, sweet Gabby. I can tell. So when I tell you to touch me, then you will be good and do it, right?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I liked the idea of having a secret, especially one my brother wouldn’t know about.

  “And if I want to touch you down there, you are going to let me, okay?”

  “But I thought only my parents and doctor were allowed,” I said innocently.

  He was quick on his feet. “Well, family and doctors, yes. And I am family, aren’t I, sweetie? I’m your uncle. Aren’t I your favorite uncle?”

  “Yes, of course.” And he was.

  “Okay, then. We can even play doctor if you want. You can lie down and I can take your temperature, listen to your heart beating, and check to make sure all your parts are working right.”

  “I love playing doctor! I even have a stethoscope.” I was so excited to play with him. “My doctor’s kit is in the basement. Come with me.” I smiled and took Uncle Gene’s hand and led him to our playroom.

  The large basement always smelled damp. It had a low ceiling and was divided into a few different areas: a laundry room, a small powder room, and a built-in bar against the far right wall. Then there was the secret room. At first glance, it looked just like a wall. But if you got close, you could see the seam of the door flush with the wall. You had to know exactly where to push it and then, like magic, the door would pop open.

  “My kit’s in here,” I exclaimed excitedly. “Come see the magic room, Uncle Gene.” He followed me to the room, smiling ear to ear. “See? You can’t even tell there is a room back here.”

  “Wow, that is really neat,” he said. We walked into the secret room and he pulled the door closed behind us. “So no one will know we’re in here?” He rubbed his hands together in excitement.

  “Nope, I don’t think so. My brother is at his friend Paul’s house and my parents will probably be gone about an hour.”

  MARIA

  When I got home, I was relieved to have the house to myself. I was exhausted—not to mention hungover— so I took a nap for a few hours. When I woke up, I made myself some buttered toast and coffee. I heard my cell phone buzz and was excited to see it was a text from Enrique.

  ENRIQUE: Hey, beautiful. Want to have lunch before I head home?

  MARIA: Hey, gorgeous. Sure, what time and where?

  ENRIQUE: How about meeting me in my hotel room at noon? We can grab a bite downstairs. Sound good?

  MARIA: Sure, see you soon.

  Shit, Enrique wanted to meet for lunch. Part of me was excited and the other part was scared to death. I was sober, unlike last night. Did he want to meet to tell me it could never happen again? Was he sorry we had done it? I wasn’t sorry at all. I hadn’t felt this alive in years.

  I twisted my hair up in a ponytail and quickly put on some blush and lip gloss. Now, what to wear? I rummaged through my closet and picked out a simple sundress and wedge heels. I jumped in my car and headed to the hotel.

  When I got to his floor, I walked slowly down the hallway. I felt myself getting panicky, but decided those were good butterflies. I took a deep breath before I knocked on his door.

  The door opened about halfway, and Enrique pulled me in gently. His smile immediately put me at ease, and he greeted me with a huge hug.

  “So how do you feel today?” he asked. His warm expression assured me that he didn’t regret our time last night. I felt like what happened next was up to me. He was definitely imagining me without my dress on, but something in his manner kept me from worrying. He looked relaxed in his burnt-orange Banana Republic polo and khaki shorts. His dark hair was gelled back a bit, and he smelled fresh, like Irish Spring soap.

  I told him I felt fine, a little hung over, but overall pretty good considering how much we’d had to drink. He sat on the edge of the bed and I joined him. He turned to me, and I swear, he looked at me with more adoration than any other man had in my whole life. He cupped my face and kissed me softly on the lips.

  “I’ve been thinking, can we do that again and again and again, all day?” he asked playfully.

  I thought about resisting, but before I could say no, he had gently pushed me back on the bed and begun kissing me from head to toe. He licked me and kissed me and caressed me, moving his hands up and down my entire body, like he was memorizing every inch of me. Every so often he came back up to kiss me on the lips. When I tried to sit up so I could reciprocate, he gently pushed me back on the bed.

  “No, amor. This is all for you. I want you to enjoy, to feel worshipped and adored. You just lie there. Let me take you to places you’ve never been before.”

  And that he did. After massaging me with his hands and lips, he made his way to my aching pussy. His hands and mouth would get close, but never actually touch me there. It made me want him even more.

  Finally he kissed me on the outside of my pink lace panties. He teased me with gentle little kisses, and then very slowly he pulled my panties down my legs, stopping to kiss my inner thighs, caress my calves.

  He pulled out a silk scarf. “Here, I want you to wear this. Cover your eyes.”

  “Okay. Why?” I was a little surprised.

  “Because I want you to just feel, Maria. No thinking and no seeing. Your other senses will come alive. My touch will be that much more erotic, my tongue’s taste that much sweeter.”

  He wrapped the scarf around my eyes, tying it gently but firmly behind my head, and told me to come off the bed. I did as he said. I trusted Enrique, and the relinquishing of control was suddenly a huge turn-on.

  He had me lean against the side of the bed and gently pushed me down so that my ass and legs were propped against the mattress. My chest and head lay on the bed. He stood behind me, caressing my butt once more.

  “Oh, Mari, you have the most exquisite ass I have ever seen.” He kneaded it firmly and then gave it a quick smack. “Now, do as I say, and I promise it’ll be a day you will never forget.”

  I nodded and was once again wet with anticipation.

  “Prop yourself up just a little more,” he directed. He placed a pillow under my stomach.

  He slowly
slid his fingers into me: first one, then two. I had never felt this angle before, and I loved it. He was right; I could feel his every touch more intensely.

  He massaged my G-Spot until I was moaning, and then he started tasting me from behind. First his tongue barely touched my clit, but then he was sucking on my puffy lips, one at a time, making me shake with each suck. His whole mouth was like a vacuum on my pussy, sucking, touching, moving me back and forth, fucking me with his mouth. I wanted him to stop so I could mount him, but he refused.

  “No, amor, you’re going to explode for me this way. Then you can straddle me.”

  His confidence and command over me was incredible. His mouth not seeming to tire, he sucked harder and harder until I couldn’t control myself anymore and I was squirting and spraying, flooding all over his mouth.

  “Oh my God, Enrique!” I screamed.

  He stopped sucking and let me lie there for a moment, my body basking in the effects of the aftershocks. I flipped over and tore off the blindfold. “Enrique, holy shit! Where did you learn to do that?”

  Enrique just grinned. “I love making you feel good. There was nothing for me to learn. I could just feel what your body wanted.”

  We got in the bed and lay together for a few minutes, his soulful eyes gazing into mine. He reached over and softly kissed my lips. “Maria, you have the most beautiful lips I have ever seen or felt. I want to taste their sweetness all day long.”

  I kissed him back softly, hungrily. We faced each other in the bed, and I could feel his hard dick through his boxer briefs. I moved so I could take them off and suck him. His swollen head throbbed against my wet, moist mouth.

  His moaning told me he loved what I was doing. He tugged on my hair. “Come up here, Mari.” I followed his instructions. “Amor, get on top of me. I want to see your gorgeous face, touch your breasts while you ride me.”