Lifers

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “This game is called ‘favorite positions’. You want to play?”

  His eyes glowed, and he nodded his head jerkily several times.

  “Good. Have you ever … been on top?”

  He raised one eyebrow and nodded.

  “Don’t worry—I’m just getting warmed up. Have you ever … had the woman on top?”

  Eye roll. Head nod.

  “Have you ever done it doggy style from behind, other than with me?”

  He nodded rapidly.

  “Ah, now we’re getting somewhere. You like that one?”

  Vigorous head nod.

  “Have you ever had someone go down on you?”

  A sly smile crossed his face and he blew me a kiss, nodding slowly.

  “Have you ever gone down on someone?”

  The smile dropped a little but he nodded again.

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been holding out on me, cowboy. You definitely owe me that one!”

  He winked and threw me a scorching smile.

  “What about getting it mutual?”

  He looked puzzled.

  “I’m talking doing a sixty-niner.”

  He shook his head.

  “Hmm, no, well that’s okay. I’m not thrilled by the idea. I mean, unless you’re the kind of person who likes having someone’s ass stuck in your face.”

  He wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

  “I’m not saying I’m averse to a little butt play…”

  His eyes got really wide, and he licked his lips.

  “Don’t go breaking a sweat. I don’t take it up the ass. I’m just saying, I like having my ass worked a little. You up for that?”

  He smiled and nodded.

  “Good. You want some of that back?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “Never tried it, huh?”

  He shook his head again.

  “Okay, well we might need to experiment with that a bit. I’ll put it on the list.”

  He smiled, raised an eyebrow then motioned writing something down.

  “Oh yeah, I have a list. I might even show it to you some day.”

  He smiled.

  “Okay, so where were we … um … what about in a hot tub?”

  He nodded and held up one finger.

  “Oh, just the once? Or just one girl?”

  He shrugged and nodded.

  “You want to do that again?”

  More nodding—very fast nodding.

  “In a swimming pool?”

  A huge smile crossed his face.

  “Oh, bringing back some good memories, huh?”

  He grinned at me.

  “Well, we can relive that some time. Um … sex in a public place. Not counting a swimming pool or hot tub at someone’s home, like totally public—a park or something?”

  He smiled. He nodded.

  “Wow, Jordan! You really got around for a 16-year-old! When did you start?”

  He held up both hands then four fingers on his left hand.

  “Fourteen?”

  He nodded then pointed at me.

  “Oh, I was a good girl. I was nearly 18 before I gave it up.”

  He looked surprised.

  “What can I say? I thought I was in love, that I was saving myself for the right guy and that it would last forever. How wrong can you be? Well, you already know how that story ended.”

  His sad expression came back and he reached up a hand, resting it against my cheek.

  “Don’t worry, I’ve been making up for it since.”

  He grinned and gave me a thumbs up.

  “So, um, you like getting your balls sucked?”

  He held out his hand horizontally and gave me a so-so gesture.

  “But you like getting your dick sucked, obviously.”

  This time I got two thumbs up.

  “Have you ever been handcuffed?”

  A dark look passed across his face.

  Oh shit.

  “I meant … you know … for sex? Sorry, dumb question. I’m guessing you wouldn’t like that.”

  He shook his head, his eyes dark with ugly secrets.

  “So, um, you wouldn’t want to tie me up?”

  He looked like he was in pain, and he shook his head again.

  “That’s okay. I get it. I was just … you know … checking.”

  He cocked his head to one side, asking me the same question.

  “It can be a turn on, but I haven’t done it much. I’d have to really trust the guy. But that’s okay, there’s loads of other stuff we can do. Oh, I know, what about toys?”

  He shook his head.

  “Never tried a vibrator? They’ve got some really cool ones now. There’s this one called a rabbit and…”

  He shook his head and patted his chest. I was puzzled for a moment, then he pointed at his dick, which was still erect and twitched as I glanced down.

  “Oh, right! You think a woman doesn’t need a vibrator if she’s got you!”

  He nodded again, his smile stretching from ear to ear.

  “Hmm, good point. But maybe I’ll show you sometime and you might change your mind.”

  He pointed at me and raised his eyebrows.

  “Oh sure! If I haven’t been able to get a hook up, having a vibrator saves my hand getting a cramp.”

  He scowled and crossed his hands across his chest.

  “Oh, relax! I haven’t had any hook ups since I met you.”

  He smiled, looking relieved.

  “What about you? Met any women who liked what they saw?”

  He winked at me, and I felt ready to cut a bitch!

  “Who? When? Who was it?”

  He grinned and mimed drinking coffee. Relief washed through me.

  “You mean Bev?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, that’s okay then.”

  He raised his eyebrows.

  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to share you! She knows you’re off limits. But that poses another question. Ever had a threesome?”

  He nodded.

  “Two guys, one girl?”

  He shook his head, curling his lip slightly.

  “Oh, right. Two girls pleasuring you?”

  He smiled.

  I wasn’t sure if I wanted to ask this next question but I plowed on.

  “You want to try that again sometime?”

  “No,” he said, breaking his long silence. “I only want you.”

  He pulled me onto his chest and kissed me deeply, and I savored the way he tasted, completely natural, sweet and delicious.

  Then he took the condom from the bedside table and handed it back to me.

  “I want to make love to you, Torrey. So badly, sweetheart.”

  I shuffled back off his thighs and rolled the condom down his length. His hard stomach contracted as he held his breath.

  When it was on securely, he tugged it experimentally.

  “You’re a safety boy!”

  He glanced up at me. “I’m a what?”

  “You like to be safe—no fuck ups, so to speak.”

  He grinned up at me.

  “Waal, you know what they said in health ed, ‘No glove, no love’.”

  “Is that what they told you guys?”

  “Yeah, but I always preferred the version Mikey came up with.”

  “Which was?”

  “Wrap it in foil, before you check her oil.”

  “Oh my God! That got him laid?”

  “Waal, I don’t know if he actually said that to the girl…”

  I huffed at that. “What other sayings did he have?”

  “Cover that lumber before you pump her…”

  “Ugh!”

  “And my personal favorite, ‘Wrap your bait before you mate’.”

  “Gross! Just as long as they do the job.”

  “Sweetheart, I’m cleaner than an ice cube in Alaska, but I wouldn’t want to knock you up unless you wanted to be.”

  I choked, turning it into a cough
while my eyes watered.

  He rubbed my back gently.

  “If you wanted kids, I’d be honored to be your baby-daddy,” he said, planting a soft kiss in my hair.

  “Not a good conversation to have right now,” I insisted.

  He gave a small smile and lay back on the pillows.

  “I’m all yours, sweetheart. Do your worst.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “Not really. I trust you.”

  For the second time in less than a minute, his words shocked me. He trusted me. After everything he’d been through, with all the challenges he faced, he trusted me.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I said, quietly.

  He smiled up at me. “I know.”

  I leaned down, and he tilted his face to capture my lips with his. Then he licked up my throat to behind my jaw and nipped at my earlobe, making me squirm.

  He moved again, his tongue circling my nipple, and I pushed my chest into his face, begging him to take more. He ran his calloused hands over my breasts, the rough skin delicious on my overheated flesh.

  Between my thighs, his dick twitched again and I ground down on him, eliciting a rough growl of desire.

  I rubbed his tip over my clit and a shiver went through me.

  “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “Can I do some of that other stuff on your list? Because it was a real fuckin’ turn on, you talkin’ ‘bout it.”

  “Which parts?”

  “Hmm, I’d like to taste that sweet lil’ pussy of yours—preferably before the lube from the condom makes it taste like ass. Uh, sorry, that came out wrong. Aw, hell! You know what I mean!”

  “Luckily for you I do!” I said, halfway between a laugh and a porn-star moan of longing.

  He rolled me over then knelt on the floor, dragging me to the edge of the bed. Then he grabbed my feet and rested them on his shoulders.

  “Open wide!” he grinned devilishly, dipping his head toward me.

  God! His stubbly chin over my clit set off a tidal wave of lust. Sparks of electricity started shooting down my legs, making me curl my toes.

  “Oh, freakin’ yes!” I yelled, forgetting his father was sleeping down the hall.

  He unfurled his tongue winding it around the nub in slow, sensuous flicks. Then he pushed two of those skilled mechanic’s fingers inside me, massaging my inner edge. I couldn’t work out if it was all that flirty talking, or 36 hours without having him inside me, who knows, but I came harder than a freight train.

  Poor guy! He had to put his palm over my mouth to try and stifle the piercing shrieks I was making. A pillow might have worked better.

  My legs trembled and one foot slipped from his shoulder. He caught it before I could kick him in the nuts.

  “Good so far?” he chuckled.

  I grunted something monosyllabic and didn’t object when he hauled me back up the bed and flipped me over.

  “Ready for more?” he asked, his voice suddenly strained.

  “Uh huh,” I said, eloquently.

  A finger up my butt brought me around quickly, and I gasped.

  “Just my finger, sweetheart, I swear. I’d never hurt you.”

  Then he dragged my hips back so I was on all fours, and he pushed inside gently, filling me, stretching me. Yeah, no way that dick was ever fitting up my ass. Ever.

  He pulled out deliciously slowly and pushed back inside in a long, sensual stroke.

  “Oh, fuck, this is going to be too quick,” he bit out.

  “Then make it hard!” I gasped.

  He obliged immediately, hammering into me, the finger in my butt still dipping in and out with a different rhythm.

  He shuddered suddenly, and I heard a strangled cry from the hot breath on my back. He pinched my clit, silently begging me to follow quickly. Overwhelmed by sensations, I clenched around him as frenzied waves took control of my body.

  We collapsed together, dual breaths panting across the sheets.

  Two doors down, I heard the toilet flush.

  “I think we woke your dad,” I mumbled.

  “Looks like,” he said, his silent laugh shaking the bed.

  I fell asleep instantly. The next time I woke up, the bed beside me was cold and empty.

  Instead, there was a small flower plucked from the backyard, resting on a note.

  I unfolded the paper and saw an amazingly detailed pencil sketch of me sleeping. Jordan must have sat at the bottom of the bed drawing me while I slept.

  And then I read the words he’d written.

  ‘A life without love is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.’

  I love you.

  Jordan x

  Jordan

  Life started getting good once Momma left. We all knew it was true, and that kind of sucked. She was still my momma, even though she didn’t want to be. But the tension in the house left with her, and everything was calmer.

  Hulk was giving me three days most weeks, and I’d had four clients ask for personal designs painted on their cars and trucks. Two more were lined up. I had a freakin’ waiting list! Torrey said I should put together a portfolio. I didn’t know about that, but it was a good feeling. Scratch that—it was a great feeling, like people saying I was good at something for a change.

  Dad and Momma were talking, I think, but she still refused to come home while I was there. It hurt, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Dad was learning to accept me again and on the rare evenings when Torrey wasn’t around, we had some real conversations. We had to get to know each other again with eight years to catch up on. I’d been a boy when I was sent away; I’d grown up fast, and he didn’t quite know what to make of the man who’d come home.

  When I told him about the first couple of months in juvie and how I’d tried to kill myself, he broke down in tears. I think it made it real for him, how close he’d come to losing both his sons. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that the first time I tried to end my own life wasn’t the last. Some things were best kept hidden even now.

  From what he told me about that time, he and Momma had pretty much just shut down. He also admitted that it had been their decision to block me from coming to Mikey’s funeral. That hurt a lot.

  Most everyone in the high school had gone, by the sound of it, including the teachers. Even some of the football players from other high schools had turned up in their team colors as a mark of respect. Mikey’s best friend Ryan Dupont gave the eulogy, and the gym had been used to host the wake after the funeral. My name wasn’t mentioned.

  Gradually, I began to really talk to my dad. I had a lot of trust issues and hadn’t forgotten that he and Momma had basically thrown me to the wolves eight years ago, but Torrey had taught me that keeping it all inside was poison to us. Momma was the living proof of that.

  So I told him about some of the crazy stunts Mikey and I had gotten up to, and I think it opened his eyes to a few things. I felt okay about telling him Mikey’s secrets after all of these years. It kind of put things in perspective for both of us. I wasn’t no saint, but I wasn’t all sinner either. It had been a bit of a shock for him to find out how heavily into weed Mikey had been. I’d always been more of a drinker. He wanted me to promise that once my parole was over that I wouldn’t go back to the booze. I couldn’t do that—I was looking forward to having a beer now and again. I’d probably stay away from hard liquor, but I was done making promises I couldn’t keep.

  Our relationship was a work in progress but we were getting there.

  As for Momma … it wasn’t looking good.

  Things with Torrey and me were fan-fucking-tastic. I didn’t change my mind about her being the best thing that had ever happened to me. We’d been dating nearly three months and she never ceased to amaze me with her strength and beauty and love of life. And, slowly at first, we started making plans together for the future, our future. God, I loved saying that! Our future.

  After that first night when Momma left, Torrey never really went home again—to the Rector
y. The Reverend wanted her to stay there, but had refused to allow Torrey to have me in their home. That was a deal breaker as far as she was concerned. Torrey’s view was that if the Rectory was truly her home, too, then her momma would allow me inside. The Rev’s view was she wouldn’t condone us having a physical relationship out of wedlock. Yeah right, like half her parishioners weren’t shacked up together. She wasn’t saying it, but the real reason was my ex-con badge. Torrey said she was a freakin’ hypocrite, and didn’t want anything to do with her.

  I wasn’t happy that they’d fallen out because of me, but Torrey insisted that she wasn’t going to compromise on this. Woman was stubborn.

  Despite Torrey putting her money where her mouth was, so to speak, she also admitted that she was shit scared of commitment. We talked about that a lot. In different ways, it was important to both of us. For her, it came down to having watched her parents’ marriage disintegrate. It had left a mark on her, and I don’t think it helped that Dad and Momma had severe problems, too. But we were working things out, kind of making it up as we went along.

  Things in town were pretty much the same, maybe even a little better. Most times I visited, Torrey was with me, and folk were less likely to start something when she was around. I felt bad that she was my human shield, and frankly it sucked being such a freakin’ pussy that I had to hide behind my woman.

  But the day when the asshats had tried to get me to fight them had really made Torrey understand why I reacted the way I did; it had made her see that even the slightest breath of trouble, and my parole would be revoked. No way was I going back to prison. Ever. No fucking way. I’d rather die.

  Officer Carson turned out to be pretty nice. I saw her every couple of weeks or so.

  The house searches continued every five or six weeks, but we worked around them. Sometimes it was a guy called Martins. We all hated him. He threw his weight around and made it pretty damn clear that he thought I was no better than a shit stain on his shorts, and that he expected me to fuck up any moment.

  Torrey hated them the most. Her shit was all over the house. I swear, she was the untidiest person I’d ever met. She only had to be home a few minutes and her shoes were in one room, her purse in another, her sweater somewhere else. She lost her cell phone ten times a day; I was tempted to put her car keys on a leash and tie them to her. The bathroom was littered with lipstick and face stuff and God-knows-what. I pretended it drove me crazy, but really, I loved it. I think she knew that.