by Kat T. Masen
It wasn’t until a week later that I went back and absorbed his words. My heart sank for him, that he wouldn’t be able to read to our child every night because we weren’t together. He would live with his wife Eloise and I would live somewhere else. There was no point dwelling on that fact, and so I chose to move on. Well, at least I tried to move on.
He may have been in Vegas, but it felt like a million miles away and my memory forgot what he looked like, having not seen him in almost a month. So, becoming a crazed, obsessed stalker seemed only natural. I hit up social media, searching every photo he was in and the general comments he posted. Just like Vicky said, he’s an extreme sports junkie, with countless photos of him jumping out of planes and off cliffs. He didn’t post many status updates, but it’s the link to a video that he posted only hours ago that catches my attention.
I press play, and it’s him playing a guitar and singing. In what looks like a hotel room balcony, with the night’s sky above him, the guitar is positioned on his lap as he sits on the floor against the railing. Wearing a ratty Rolling Stones tank, grey sweats, and an army-green beanie, his arms are flexed and fuck does he look gobsmackingly beautiful.
He plays the chords and hums along to a familiar beat. I wrack my brain trying to figure out the song, and by the time he reaches the chorus, I recognize it. It’s an Eagles song, “I Can’t Tell You Why,” and I remember it from my childhood when Dad would play the album on repeat.
Haden’s voice is soft and sexy, perfectly in tune with the song. It’s over so quickly that I press play again, but this time I close my eyes. The lyrics are sinking deep within me, every word, every emotion, fueling this burning fire I am trying so hard to contain. What is it about him that does these things to my body and soul?
I let out a breath to stop my heart from racing and I click on the comments below. Several friends have commented, shared, and liked his post. In fact, there’s over a hundred comments. Shit. By the end of the night, I feel like a complete loser for reading more into it. He probably sang it about Eloise and that thought makes me head straight to the tub of ice cream I had reserved for Vicky.
Kate and Vicky notice a change in my mood, and they are quick to figure it out.
“You porked him, didn’t you?” Kate sighs.
“For the millionth time, NO!”
“Something happened,” Vicky says. “You’re acting odd. You’re in love with him . . . aren’t you?”
Frustrated, I pull myself up from the couch with the assistance of Kate. Being heavily pregnant at just under thirty-five weeks is taking its toll on my body.
“We kissed . . . okay? That’s it,” I barely admit. “And I’m not in love with him. Just feel guilty because we shouldn’t have.”
The damage is done, and the worst part is that it damaged me. I had enough on my plate without throwing a pile of guilt on there. I should have known this would happen. I’m not as strong as I thought I was. Love has this stupid way of creeping under your skin when you least expect it.
Fuck, I DID NOT just use the word love.
“Sweetie,” Vicky says soothingly, rubbing the base of my back like the good friend she is. I welcome the massage, especially because of the extra weight I’m carrying. “Why don’t you just admit there’s something there between you?”
I want to ugly cry, and I’m not an overly emotional person. I didn’t even cry when watching Steel Magnolias or even Beaches, and everyone cries watching those movies.
“I really want to drop this subject,” I say glumly.
Thankfully, they drop the subject at that, but not without offering to hang out with me for the night. I reassure them that I’m okay, because I have to be, and I carry on, asking them about their plans for the night.
Vicky was meeting up with Patrick, which no doubt will result in her coming back here two hours later in tears. Kate had a rendezvous planned with a mystery man. She’s dressed in a short, fitted leather dress and really high leather pumps, and I’m dying to ask if it’s at some underground bondage club. I also wonder if that mystery package that arrived earlier in the week from a place called Betty’s Sweet Things has something to do with tonight.
Alone and on the couch with a bowl of popcorn, I’m entertained by Reese Witherspoon in Sweet Home Alabama. As one of my favorite movies, it was normally a great distraction, but tonight I can’t stop thinking about what the Jerk is up to. No doubt, men surrounded by feral kitties and cheap booze won’t end well. Argh. I shove a handful of popcorn in my mouth, ignoring the images that taunt me. Vegas is a sleaze hole.
Moments later, my cell beeps and Vicky’s name pops up.
Vicky: Oh my god Pres! Quick bathroom break, Patrick just told me he is leaving his wife and gave me a key to his new apartment!
I cringe and let out an annoyed sigh. Here we go again. No matter what I said, Vicky was going to ignore my advice anyway. To avoid the confrontation, I put my cell aside until I have some sort of response that would satisfy the both of us. When it beeps a minute later, I know she won’t give up, so I pick it up and see that it’s not from her. It’s from the Jerk.
#Jerk: Just checking in to make sure you haven’t given birth and ran away to some enchanted forest to raise my kid.
I laugh out loud to myself, sinking further into the sofa with a deep smile on my face. As I type a response, nerves suddenly appear and my usual witty comebacks aren’t occurring to me like they usually do. He’s miles away, yet I feel like he’s right beside me.
Me: Still THE giant elephant in the room. Surprised you found time out of your busy stripper schedule to say hello.
I sit and wait for him to respond, and nothing. An hour later, I’ve deemed myself pathetic and have made my way to bed, cursing the living daylights out of him. Why did he have to go ahead and text me, only to leave me hanging like this? My own fault. Why did I get so fucking excited when he texted me?
I try to fall asleep but my restless legs and weak bladder call for a sleepless night, so I get to reading. Somewhere in my pregnancy book, I fall asleep, only to be woken shortly after from another text.
#Jerk: Can I call you?
These four simple words make my heart race so fast that I’m unable to respond immediately. The second I do, my cell rings.
“Hey, giant elephant in the room,” he whispers.
“Thanks. You sure know how to make a woman feel better.”
He lets out a raspy laugh. “I think I left my charm along with my wallet in some stripper’s panties.”
“Sounds like you’re behaving yourself. What time is it there?”
“Beer o’clock,” he responds humorously. “The sun will greet me soon.”
“I couldn’t sleep either, but for very different reasons.”
His heavy breathing comes through the phone, and for a brief moment, I think he is asleep.
“Soon the baby will be here and you can sleep better.”
“Ha!” I exclaim. “Newsflash, babies wake up all through the night. I wonder if Kate would like to do the am shift.”
With a slight hesitation, he responds sincerely. “You don’t have to do that. Maybe some nights I can stay over . . . like on the couch or something?”
It’s my turn to hesitate. It was inevitable that this would come up. We still hadn’t come to an arrangement as to how it would work once the baby is here. I’m still staying at Kate’s because I can’t decide whether to stay in the city or not. Kate reassured me that having a baby around would not cramp her style. In fact, she offered to help out whenever she could, especially at night since she’s a night owl.
I don’t cope well with no sleep. In fact, I’m the grumpiest person ever if I don’t get eight hours straight of sleep. Haden can’t sleep on the couch forever, but it’s not like I’m ready to have the baby sleep at his place, either. I feel a migraine coming on.
“I guess we could do that . . .”
“You sound unsure.”
“I just haven’t thought about it much. I’ve
been preoccupied with this birthing plan I’m supposed to come up with.”
It seems like the most awkward conversation ever, and it goes on for ages. He then proceeds to tell me stories about the past few nights, many of which leave me in stitches. Although he doesn’t talk much about Marcus, he eludes to the fact that Marcus is somewhat not over me.
“You need to ignore his texts and calls,” he warns me.
Coincidentally, it’s then that a beep comes through the line. I quickly pull my cell away from my ear and open the text. It is from Marcus and . . . holy shit! It’s a picture of his cock.
“He just texted me. Do you have ESP or something?”
I hear a low growl over the speaker. “What did he say?”
I laugh, because it is funny when you think about it. “It’s not what he said but more what he showed.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Haden snaps.
“Don’t worry, I can handle him. I’m not looking to start things up with him again if that’s what you’re worried about.”
More silence.
“I’m not worried. Marcus is relentless when he wants something he can’t have. He shouldn’t send shit like that to you.”
“Sounds like someone else I know,” I blurt out without thinking.
He laughs on cue. “You mean me? I’m not like that.”
“Yeah, and I’m not going to turn into a crazy cat lady.”
“I wouldn’t let you get a cat. So there, you can’t become a crazy cat lady.”
I shake my head and realize he can’t see me. “It only takes one visit to the shelter and BAM, you’re coming home with a kitty and a bag of litter.”
“What if I told you I’m allergic to kitties?”
I almost choke into the phone as I fall into a fit of laughter. “Um, I don’t think you are allergic to kitties because if you were, you might as well call me Immaculate Mary.”
Even through the phone I can hear him smiling. “Mind in the gutter, Malone. I think you are long overdue to get some.”
God, was that the truth. Don’t you dare mention that you want some from him!
“That would involve dating,” I state in a serious tone.
His breathing becomes heavy and thick. “You’re thinking about dating already?”
“No. But maybe one day. I can’t stay a nun forever. Although I’m not sure how desirable I’ll be. Single mom, and the guy would have to deal with you?” I joke lightly. “Talk about excess baggage.”
“Why would you need to date? Is it just about sex?” he barks.
Taken aback by his change of tone, I go into defense mode. “Are we really having this conversation?”
“Yes. I want to know why.”
“Then yes!” I almost yell. “This is the longest time I have ever gone without sex. I am so fucking horny it’s depressing, and I miss the smell and touch of a man beside me in bed every night. Being single sucks big time.”
“I have to go,” he quickly tells me.
Great, another awkward ending between the Jerk and Presley. It’s a broken record, so overplayed.
Before I can say goodbye, he hangs up on me.
What the fuck was that?
Lying flat on my bed, I let out a loud growl and shake my body in frustration. The nerve of him to put me on the spot and then just back out mid-conversation. When my cell beeps a minute later, I am wondering what pathetic excuse he’ll use this time.
#Jerk: I’m sorry I had to do that. There’s something about you . . . I don’t know what it is. I just don’t want you seeing anyone else. Yes I know I’m selfish but it’s the truth and I’m sick of hiding it.
I read the text over and over to make sure I get the words right. What exactly is that supposed to mean? He’s confusing me; throw Eloise into the mix and I really have no idea what’s going on.
Me: You’re going to have your own life soon with Eloise. I don’t think you’ll be bothered with what I’m doing or who I’m seeing.
I haven’t even hit send yet when his next text comes through.
#Jerk: This is complicated. You’re my kid’s mom. You’ll be in my life forever. Every man that touches you will have some bearing on our kid. I don’t want anyone else being my kid’s dad or stepdad. Only me.
His words anger me. How hypocritical of him! Does he honestly expect that I will never have a boyfriend again or get married? But it’s okay for him? I am typing so fast with zero self-control as the words pour out onto the screen.
Me: I’m not turning into a nun Haden so you can feel good about yourself. I have needs too. Just like you do. You need to get over it because your stupid demands mean nothing to me. I will do whatever the hell I want.
I wait for his reply for what feels like forever. I expect a long-winded message, but instead, it’s only a few words.
#Jerk: Then why won’t you let me help you?
What the hell is he talking about? He wants to help me find someone to date or marry? This is ridiculous and I am growing bored of his antics.
Me: Help me do what?
I wait impatiently for his response.
#Jerk: Let me take care of your needs. Nobody has to know. It can remain our secret. Maybe you need to just release and you’ll feel different about the whole situation.
Now I am completely lost, so I dial his number and he picks up immediately.
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re smart. . . . What part of having a mind-blowing orgasm don’t you understand?”
Did he just say mind-blowing orgasm???
“Are you talking about phone sex? I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, you’re in Vegas . . . and did I mention already that it’s probably not a good idea?”
“It doesn’t matter where I am. I’m right here, talking to just you, Presley. Get comfortable.”
I laugh nervously. “How? I’m pregnant.”
“Sorry, I meant naked.”
Shit. It just got real. And why am I peeling off my clothes at his command? Maybe he is right, this could be our little secret. It’s only phone sex, no physical touching involved.
“If I have to get comfortable, then so must you.”
“I already am . . . naked, that is.”
My palms start to sweat and I focus on his uneven breaths as I close my eyes and listen intently. My body has betrayed me, reacting with pleasure even in my uncomfortable state.
Phone sex is something I’ve never dabbled in. When Jason went off on trips, the only sexual interactions between us were quick ‘I’m horny so I’ll jerk off when we hang up and catch you later’ types of calls.
This was unfamiliar, nerve-wracking . . . yet incredibly hot.
“Relax,” he whispers calmly. “It’s just you and me. But I’m warning you, I don’t play fair and this will be over real quick.”
Kitty, sitting on her high horse, is laughing at the Jerk, extending her hand, and saying, “Challenge accepted.” He doesn’t play fair? Well then neither will she. He wants it to be over real quick; she will finish this in the blink of an eye.
“I don’t play fair either, Haden. I’m assuming your cock is out and hard as a rock. I’m also guessing that this is driving you insane, and as we’ve been speaking, you’ve been stroking it gently, trying to control the mind-blowing orgasm you’re about to have.”
His silence only confirms what I’ve just said.
“So, what if I were to tell you that I’ve been lying here, pussy soaked and throbbing, thinking about how your hand moves slowly from your shaft up to the tip of your cock as your back arches and your eyes close feverishly with pleasure? Tell me, what would you do next?”
A low grumble escapes his throat. “I’d tell you that all I can think about is how fucking wet your pussy is and how I never got to taste it. How my tongue wants to slide all over your clit and suck it till you beg me to fuck you.”
Dammit! He got me.
I squeeze my legs to contain the persistent throb, to no avail. My arms weaken
and the tingling sensation spreading throughout my body intensifies. Shit, this is torture. My hands don’t reach that area comfortably, and when they do, I am mortified at the amount of bush forming and blush in embarrassment. Talk about a distraction! Thank God he can’t see it!
Shit, where was I?
“I wouldn’t beg you to fuck me, I can see how desperate you are. It’s all you’ve been thinking about . . .”
His moan deepens. “Tell me now how fucking wet you are again.”
“Soaking wet. . . .” I moan, rubbing my fingers across my swollen clit. I gasp unwillingly at the heightened arousal. “You’ve got me so wet that I can’t stop thinking about how perfect your cock would feel inside me right now.”
My eyes are closed, and I allow those words to escape without thinking.
“Tell me how you taste,” he begs me.
I raise my fingers to my lips and gently lick the tips. “I taste sweet . . .”
The echo shifts and there is a moan followed by a growl. Without a doubt, he is just about there. I speed up the motion and know that I have about five seconds before I am seeing stars.
“I want you to come, Haden. Come all over that beautiful, pierced cock of yours. Imagine my mouth is there waiting to take you all in. . . .”
Three . . . two . . . one . . . and I’m fucking done.
I moan loudly as my body jerks back. I forget he’s on the phone, and as my eyes flick open, reality hits and I think about what the hell I’ve just done.
As the communication between us goes stagnant, I have no choice but to speak first.
“Well, that was . . .”
“Hot?” he teases.
“Hot . . . interesting . . . different.”
“Needed.”
I sigh. “Yes, fine. Very needed.”