by B. B. Hamel
That’s what this is about. Her mother is testing me, wants to see if I can handle the pressure of all this. I can see it so clearly. The tea, the staff, pulling me out of the party in such a public way, this line of questioning. She’s doing it all deliberately to create an effect.
She wants to impress me. Or maybe to impress upon me something important.
“For now, it’s business,” I say. “For what it’s worth, my father hates your family, and I know that having something more with Lora will likely ruin my relationship with him.”
“Interesting,” she says.
“About my father?”
“Oh, no, I know how that man feels.” She waves her hand like she’s swatting away a fly. “No, I mean, about your relationship with him. You’re risking that just being here right now.”
“I am,” I say.
“And you quit your job.”
“I did.”
“To work with my daughter.”
“To build something with her. Something meaningful.”
“I see.” She picks up her tea and sips it. “Well then. I hope you succeed in making something meaningful then.”
I frown a little. “That’s, ah, thank you.”
“Of course.” She tilts her head. “You’re surprised. Did you think I wanted you to fail?”
“Truthfully Sylvia, I don’t know what you want.”
She smiles. “And that’s for the best. But I’ll tell you this, I want my children to be happy.” She puts her teacup down again. “None of them have made the choices that I would’ve made. None of them chose a partner than I would’ve chosen for myself or for them. But I never stood in their way, not directly at least. As hard as it may be to believe, I want my children to be happy. I want them in their place, in this family… but happy.”
“I understand,” I say.
“Oh, I doubt that. This family isn’t something you’ve ever experienced before and I suspect it will take you a long time to figure it out. When I say I want them to be happy, I don’t mean I want them to do what they like. It’s a balance, Dean, a balance between what’s right for the family, and what’s right for them. I never forget that balance, even if they do.”
I nod slowly. “Thank you for telling me that.”
“Good. I hope it will sink in, even if it’s not clear yet.” She stands up. “Please stay here and finish your tea. I’ll have some sent to your home, if you’d like. I just got a shipment in today and I won’t drink it all before it begins to lose its flavor.”
“I couldn’t ask that of you,” I say.
“Correct answer. I’ll send some anyway.” She smiles and leaves the room again.
I sit back in my chair and stare down at my tea.
I feel like so much was just said, but I only heard a small bit of it. I wish I could bring her back here and get her to say just what she means, but I suspect Sylvia Lofthouse doesn’t do that. She speaks in parables, speaks at her meaning sideways, and it’s up to everyone else to figure it out.
The door opens and I look up. Lora steps into the room, frowning around. “Where’d my mother go?” she asks.
“Left.”
She walks over and sits down. She frowns at the tea. “She gave you the whole India thing?” she asks.
I cock my head. “Yeah.”
“It’s true,” she says, and pick up her mother’s cup. She sips it and smiles. “But she loves that trick.”
“Trick?”
“Gets people interested and relaxed. Then she says what she really wants to say, or at least says what she thinks you need to hear.”
“I think she did the latter with me.”
She laughs. “Don’t tell me. I think she wants you to tell me, so don’t.”
“Is she a Jedi?” I ask her. “I mean, she’s playing some kind of mind game, right?”
She gets up, walks around the table, and sits in my lap. “Yes and yes. But she’s an evil Jedi.”
“Sith,” I mumble.
“Right, whatever.” She kisses me. “Hey, let’s go see the warehouse.”
“Right now?”
“I can’t leave this second. But tomorrow. Think Ron will give you the keys?”
“We can always sneak in again.”
“I’d rather do it properly.”
“Okay.” I sigh. “I’ll find him and talk him into it.”
“Perfect.” She grins and gets up. “You’re so easy to manipulate, you know.”
“Put a pretty girl in my lap and I’ll do anything.”
“Oh, I thought it was just me.”
I get up, pull her against me, and kiss her. “It is,” I say.
She grins up at me. “Go smoke cigars with my uncle and laugh at his crass jokes.”
“I’ll do my best,” I say.
She laughs and leaves the room. I hesitate, glancing back at the tea set. For a second, I think I understand what Sylvia wanted me to hear.
But then it’s gone, lost in the moment.
So I leave the room and go hunting for Uncle Ron.
15
Lora
Dean unlocks the huge front doors and slides one open. It takes a lot of force and he grunts with the effort, but I have to admit, I love watching his muscular arms and back do their work. Slowly the door crawls open and he lets out a sigh. “Breaking in would be easier,” he grumbles.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby.” I get up on my toes and kiss his cheek. “Come on.”
I slip into the space and he follows me. It’s just like I remembered, but everything is different now.
The same high ceilings, the same open space. I notice the trash and debris this time, how worn some things look, how some of the windows are broken. It’s not perfect, it’s far from pristine…
“It’s all mine,” I say with a grin.
“Still like it?” he asks.
“I hope so. Would you kill me if I said no?”
He laughs. “Nope. Not my money.”
“You did quit your job for this.”
“I can get another one.” He walks into the space. It’s bigger than I remembered and I follow him inside. “So, boss. What now?”
I shake my head and look around. “Batting cages over there,” I say. “Arcade over there. Little go-kart track over there. Maybe a concession stand there. Maybe a roller rink there. What do you think?”
“I think we cram it all in here,” he says with a laugh. “But we should start somewhere first.” He takes out his phone and holds it up.
I frown and take it. There’s a Craigslist ad open. “What’s this?”
“Some mini golf course is closing a couple towns over,” he says. “But look at the bottom.”
I read the ad over and get to the very last line. “Batting cages?” I ask.
“They’re selling it all,” he says. “It’ll be used, but I think that’s the way to go.”
“Well, all right,” I say, laughing. “Let’s go get them.”
“Already emailed,” he says. “And I’m in the process of negotiating a good price. I think you’ll be happy with it.”
“I’ll leave that all up to you, business manager.” I grin at him.
“Co-owner,” he says, coming up to me. He kisses me, holding me tight against him. “I’m all in, remember?”
“I remember.”
We kiss for a while, standing there in the wide-open space.
It feels good to taste him on my lips. Every time we kiss, I’m reminded why I keep coming back, why I can’t get enough.
Slowly we break apart. “Come on, co-owner,” he says, his voice soft. He pulls me away from the center part of the warehouse and pushes me back against a pillar. I gape at him. “What are you—”
He kisses my neck, hands on my body, and I don’t need to finish that sentence. I kiss him back, tongue on his tongue, as his hands move up my skin. He pulls my shirt off, throws it on the ground. I feel so exposed, out here in the middle of this wide-open space, but there’s nobody around. He take
s off my bra and lets it fall onto the floor as he kisses my neck, my chest, my nipples. My heart’s racing with need for him, and I let out a soft moan as he bites me gently then kisses my lips again.
I reach out and unbuckle his jeans. I tug his belt off and let them fall to the floor. I stroke his hard shaft before tugging his boxer briefs off, dropping down to my knees in front of him. The concrete is hard and cold on my knees but I don’t care as I take him in my mouth, sucking him deep and slow.
He growls his pleasure, grabbing my hair. “I’d quit a thousand jobs for you,” he says. “And if anyone can make this place special, it’s you.”
I suck him faster, stroking his shaft, taking him all into my mouth. I moan as I do it, losing myself, unable to help it. He pushes me deeper, fist tight in my hair, and I groan the whole time. As I pull back, he bends down and kisses me, pulling me up to my feet. He turns me around and pushes me up against a support column. I feel the cold steel against my chest as he drops down and slowly takes my jean shorts off.
I look over my shoulder as he stands and spanks my ass. He kisses me over my shoulder as his fingers slide up between my legs. “Dripping wet,” he croons. “Is this what you wanted? You needed me to fuck you to break this place in?”
“Maybe,” I moan as his fingers slide deeper inside me. I wiggle my hips as pleasure blossoms all through me. He rolls along my clit and I moan as he grabs my hair with his other hand, pulling my chin up and back. He kisses my neck and slides his fingers in deep, fucking me with them, making me gasp.
“If we’re going to do this, little Lora, you need to get used to something,” he whispers in my ear.
“What’s that?” I ask, half plea, half moan.
He presses me up against the column and spreads my legs. I feel his hard cock against my dripping pussy and a thrill of excitement and anticipation runs through me. He slides himself deep between my legs, his thick shaft spreading me wide open. I gasp, throwing my head back.
“You’re all mine,” he growls. “Every inch of your beautiful body. I’ll fuck you, taste you, take you whenever I choose, my Lora. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I gasp as pleasure rips through me. I can’t help myself. I can’t think. “Oh, god yes. Take me. Fucking take me.”
He fucks me deep and slow at first, teasing my breasts, before grabbing my hair and fucking me rough. I moan loud, my voice echoing in the cavernous space, as his body owns mine. He’s so big, so intense, so muscular, so gorgeous. He can possess me, control me, dominate me. I want it, every inch of him, every thick, hard inch.
His cock slides deeper as he kisses me, a little growl on his lips. I bite him and he laughs, spanking my ass hard. I gasp and I know there’s going to be a red handprint there. He does it again and again as I start to buck back against him riding his cock, sliding up and down.
“I love your tight little cunt,” he says. “I love your gorgeous body. I love every inch of you. The way you sweat and moan. The way you come. Goddamn, Lora. I want to fill you to the brim. Can you take it all, my Lora? Every inch of me, every drop of me.”
“Yes,” I gasp. “Oh, god, yes. I want it all. Take me, Dean. Possess me. Do whatever you want with me.”
He growls his delight and fucks me harder. He teases my breasts, my nipples. His cock pumps in and out, shaking my body, shaking my breasts. He’s relentless, intense. I know there’s no stopping him, no getting away, and I wouldn’t run even if I could.
There’s only pleasure with him, so much pleasure.
He keeps going as he reaches around my hip to tease my clit while he fucks me. The sensations build, growing inside of me, a shivering crescendo of pleasure and pain and need, oh, god, so much need. His fingers roll along my clit and it’s almost too much. I shake, moaning, head thrown back. He chuckles in my ear. “You want to come,” he says.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Keep doing that. Just like that. Fingers right there.”
He doubles his efforts, but does just what I say. “Like this? You want it like this?”
“Oh my god,” I moan. “Don’t stop that. Don’t fucking stop.”
He grunts and fucks me hard, his fingers working my clit just the way I want it, and oh my god, oh, shit, it’s so good, so right, just the right spot, just the right pressure. His cock fills me, spreads me wide, and his fingers send incredible waves of pleasure all over my skin.
I know I can’t hold back any longer. I can’t wait. I cry out, moaning his name, and he fucks me faster.
The orgasm comes in a rush. It’s a flooding torrent of pleasure that tears through me in shivering sheets of incredible ecstasy. I moan, my words, my world, lost in a meaningless rush of desire.
He doesn’t slow down, though. I’m his, my body is his, and he fucks me rough, taking me the way he wants to, the way an animal fucks. I gasp and shiver, all his, all his.
And he fills me. I feel him come, growling the whole time, a low timbre groan as his cum fills every inch. I gasp and shudder, and as we both finish, he holds me tight in his arms.
I feel him slide out of me. I turn and lean up against the pillar. He steps closer, kisses me, holds me. I grin at him, sweating, feeling stupid with my orgasm, with the rush of joy that always comes after.
“That was…”
“Necessary.” He grins. “Right.”
“Really, really good.”
He laughs. “And now, my Lora. This place is all ours.”
I bite my lip and pull him close. He kisses me then holds me, and he’s right.
I feel it too.
This place is ours. This huge, cavernous warehouse, this empty space.
It’s all ours.
But it’s nothing yet. It’s just a big space with walls, a roof, and a floor. It’s just a building. What we do with it, that’s what matters.
This space is potential. And we’re going to turn it into something more than that.
I just know it.
16
Dean
The next day we drive the rented U-Haul, the biggest truck they had, out to this middle school in the next town over. An older man meets us out back and smiles as he shows us the broken-down batting cages
“Here they are,” he says. “County approved the new cages, so we’re just looking at letting these go for cost. I mean, hell, I’d give ‘em away for free, but we’re not allowed.”
“What’s cost?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “No clue. Took a few of us guys a couple hours to take them down.”
“Five hundred bucks cover that time?”
He squints and nods. “That about does it.”
“Okay then.” I take out my checkbook, write him a check, and stare at the fencing and the pitching machines. “All right.”
He laughs. “Good luck,” he says.
Lora rolls up her sleeves and cracks her neck. “You ready, big guy? You’re doing all the hard work, you know.”
“I know,” I say with a sigh. “I have a feeling it’s going to be like that between us for a while.”
She laughs and pushes me. “Don’t be such a baby. Come on, carry that fence.”
I nod and get to work.
For some reason, it’s not that hard. I mean, it’s hard, and I’m aching and sweating by the time we get most of it loaded up, but it’s not that bad. Lora laughs and jokes, and she looks fucking gorgeous lifting old equipment with just the slightest hint of sweat rolling down her skin.
Maybe that’s stupid, maybe that’s cliché, but work doesn’t feel like work when I do it with her.
“We’ll have to do a second trip,” she says.
“Tomorrow. I’ll go find that guy and let him know we’ll be back for the rest.” I frown a little. “What was his name?”
“Nate,” she says. “Listen next time.”
I roll my eyes and head out. I find Nate cleaning out the shed next to the track. He nods and waves. “No problem, I’ll be here. Thanks for coming out so fast. What do you need with all that stuff, anyway?”
“Building an indoor fun park over in Loftville,” I say. “In an old warehouse.”
“Oh, no kidding? With them batting cages?”
“That’s the idea.”
“Sounds like fun. Maybe I’ll stop by when it’s all set up. You know, spend some time with the old equipment.”
“You can have a few rounds on the house.”
He laughs and I wave. Lora’s already sitting in the truck, her sunglasses on tight, and smiles at me. “Ready?”
“Let’s roll.”
The drive back to Loftville takes half an hour. Lora puts on the radio and sings along with old ‘90s songs I didn’t even know she liked.
“What’s the first thing you want to do when we’re done?” I ask her.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, once this is up and running, I think we should have some kind of party. Let the Loftville folks come for free for an afternoon or something like that.”
She nods. “That sounds nice.”
“Or maybe just kids will be free.”
She laughs and grins. “That sounds better.”
“Gotta turn a profit somehow.”
“Are you worried about that?” she asks.
“I’m worried about everything,” I admit. “Right now, I’m mostly worried about that old equipment. Do you have any clue how we’re going to set it all up inside?”
“Nope,” she says and grins at me. “No freaking idea.”
“We’re hiring someone.”
“Yep, probably going to have to.”
“Which means we need more money.”
“Also true.”
“Got any more siblings I don’t know about?”
“Sadly, no. Although there’s my long-lost sister, Beatrice, but mother won’t acknowledge her.”
“Really? Why not?”
“Oh, Beatrice doesn’t believe in the sanctity of the Lofthouse family name.” She says that last bit with the perfect imitation of her mother.
“Guess we’ll have to do it the old-fashioned way and go to a bank.”
“Banks.” She wrinkles her nose. “The worst.”
“There’s something we can agree on.”