by Jayce, Aven
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, out of breath and disappointed. “You have no idea how hard this is for me.”
We hold one another for a few minutes and then he takes my head in his hands and flashes a smile. “Let me tell you a little secret, Divine, about what you mean to me. I wasted an entire year of my life with a woman I never really knew, and I’m going to make damn sure that I get to know you. I’m not interested in making that same mistake twice. We’re going to spend time together and not just in bed. There are still some things you need to know about me and I’m not going to wait a year to tell you, so if you have anything you want to share with me, I’d prefer to hear about those things sooner than later. I don’t want to be played for a fool again. I want this to work,” he sighs. “I have feelings for you. I noticed you before you even left that note under my door and asked me out. Your dark auburn hair and that truck of yours both stand out like a flashing red light on this street. I watched you put a tiny tomato plant in the earth last month and I admired your Christmas tree flickering behind the curtains in your front window during the holidays. I know you listen to Meghan Trainor and Ed Sheeran because I’ve heard their songs coming from your open windows when I’m outside, and yes, I’ve noticed your eyes on me when I jog each morning. You’re stealthy, but I’ve been watching you just as much as you’ve been watching me. And if you think I’m sharing too much too soon it’s only because months from now, if something goes wrong, I’m not going to say to myself that I wish I had gotten to know you first. I’m getting to know you now. So, next time we’re together I want you to tell me something that you’ve been keeping under lock and key. I want us to have an unbreakable relationship and that only happens with honesty and trust.” His tongue flicks my ear. “And of course, mind-blowing sex can’t hurt either.”
He licks his fingers... oh, Christ. He’s in my jeans. No, he’s inside. “Dan,” I exhale and set my head against his chest. He’s not moving. His fingers are motionless, but hidden below. Oh dear Lord. He pulls them out quickly and I gasp.
“I needed something to take home.” He puts his fingers to his nose and inhales. “Do what you need to do for your job.” He steps back and my hand falls to my side. Damn. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s walking away. Yes, he is going somewhere.
And he’s sniffing my sticky vagina scent on his fingers.
And then he’s on his front walk whistling a happy tune as he unlocks his door.
Gone.
Dan chose masturbation over his religion and now I’m choosing my job over him. At least for the evening, that’s what’s happening. Being an adult sucks ass.
After locking my door, I toss my keys on my entryway table and head upstairs to figure out what I’m going to send to Richard. I set my laptop on the bed and take some time to think about Dan’s words before I begin. I need to tell Dan about my father soon, my books too, and other things. And I know he’s going to be accepting of everything I put forth, because, well because that’s who Dan is, more than likely that’s why he’s been fucked with by someone in the past. On our first date we both started with the I’m going to screw your brains out act, but now it’s obvious it was nerves taking control of us both, or some kind of protective front, but he’s been quick to show his open and loving self. I need to do the same.
No secrets, no lies, just love.
Oh, fucking gag. You know that has to be a quote on every romance blog in the world. What kind of badass are you, talking all lovey-dovey and shit? You know what? If this were a novel I’d toss it across the room and start a new read. Something dark with lots of blood, characters who yell and hit one another, and tons of fucking. None of this pussy romance shit.
I hate that word!
Then don’t think it... why are we changing?
Maybe this is who I’ve always been. Maybe all I needed was someone to pay attention to me, to acknowledge that I exist.
I’m not even going to respond to such a backstabbing comment, you cold-hearted bitch.
“Fuck off, Violet.”
I hate you! Your happiness is making it harder and harder for us to communicate. I’m feeling a distance between us here, Div. Doesn’t that bother you? It’s been a week since we’ve thought about some of your students meeting their demise. Instead of being your usual mopey self, I’ve caught you smiling for no reason, until I realized you had Dan in your head. He shows up right next to me and knocks me further back in your mind. I’ve had a miserable week being happy!
My smile aggravates my inner voice even more. I am happy...
And my cell’s ringing.
The screen shows an incoming call from the university. This can’t be good.
“Hello?” I say in a soft voice.
“Div, it’s Richard. Sorry to call you at home.”
“It’s not a problem. What’s going on?”
“Did you get my email? I thought you would’ve responded by now.”
“I’m working on it. I’m sorry, I know it’s getting late and you probably need time to read what I have to say in order to prepare your own responses for the Trustees, but...”
“Div, Margaret passed away.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Whoa.
That’s the word I repeat for an entire hour until I go downstairs to my living room and make my usual panicky sheep sounds.
Mehhh. Bahhh.
I lied again about the meh-ing. I said before that I had a dream about it being a form of communication. I left out the part that in the dream it was a way to communicate with the dead. It’s how I talk to my parents.
Okay, now you can call me crazy. I don’t give a shit. People do what they have to in order to deal with death and I’m not apologizing for it. If I want to make sheep noises when I’m anxious and I believe my mother and father can understand my words only if they’re sheep-like, so be it. It’s not intended to scare people away; it’s to bring spirits closer.
Mehhh.
If you want to really analyze it, the sound is like a baby’s cry and that’s how I feel as a young adult under pressure, that I wish I had my mom and dad to comfort me.
Margaret Cole died from a heart attack at age seventy. She was a well-loved college professor who came in each day with a smile on her face for half-a-century.
Classes are cancelled tomorrow and grief counselors will be available in the lobby of the campus coffee shack for anyone having a difficult time with the loss of Professor Cole, as well as those still grieving Luke’s death.
And the Trustees aren’t meeting with Richard. His job is to find a quick replacement, an adjunct to finish teaching her classes for the remainder of the semester, and once Margaret’s classes are covered and the campus community heals, then and only then will the future of the department be discussed.
And I’m supposed to grieve and feel like shit. If I don’t, I’m an ass. So be it. Call me an ass. I can’t force myself to shed a tear for a hateful woman who treated me so poorly. It’s unfortunate she passed and I’m sad for some of my students who are already dealing with Luke’s death and the insanity that goes along with being a college student, but the woman was old and it was her time, plus I’m sure she had a rewarding and joyful life that everyone should be celebrating right now. It wasn’t some horrendous accident, murder, or suicide. She died of natural causes. It’s over and yes, my reaction is cold, but considering our relationship, she’s not going to get much more from me emotionally.
My mehs and bahs end after I’m able to process why I lack the feelings that I’m supposed to have. I take a beer to my bedroom and fill one of my small travel bags with some overnight essentials: clean underwear, clothes for tomorrow, toiletries, and a box of condoms. If classes are cancelled, then I’m taking that road trip with Dan, and I’m getting laid.
I walk to his place, bag in hand, after finishing two beers and a shot of whiskey. He’s awake, answering the door in plaid pajama bottoms, no shirt, and a bowl of cheerios in his hand. I love how he smi
les whenever he sees me; always making me feel welcome.
“You still up for IKEA?”
“No kidding?” he grins.
“I want to spend the night with you,” I whisper, “and tomorrow as well.”
“Well, fuck me. Yeah, I’m up for it.” He repositions his dick through his plaid pajamas and then scratches his stomach. “Let me get a few things.”
I follow him to his bedroom, noticing his rooms seem much larger because I have so much shit packed into mine.
“What changed your mind?” he asks while pulling a duffle bag from his closet. He sets it on the bed and packs items similar to mine, including a box of condoms. Great, we have two boxes. He looks at the expiration date then places them inside. “Just in case,” he winks.
I didn’t think to check the date on mine. They’re probably two years old.
“This is a sweet surprise, by the way, but you haven’t answered my question. Why the change of heart?”
“Margaret Cole passed away. Classes are cancelled.”
He looks down at the floor, shakes his head and sighs. “You okay?” he asks.
“I think so.”
“Come here.” He leans against his dresser and opens his arms as a comforting gesture. I step forward and hug him, my hands running along the bare skin of his back.
“I’m sure a lot of the students are going to be upset, including my sister,” he whispers into my hair. After a few short, but comforting kisses, I step aside so he can continue to pack. I want to get the fuck out of this town for the night, and I don’t really care where we go, just as long as it’s not here.
He steps around me with a handful of clothes while I’m left staring at his dresser. There’s a photo of him wearing a hockey uniform, back when he was a teen. He looks like a badass in the black and red team colors with a small cut under his eye as if he’d been in a fight.
“I bet you were a real ladies’ man when you were a teen.”
He laughs and zips his bag then eats the final spoonful of his cereal, not commenting. He also has a collection of semi-expensive colognes set in a line next to the photo and a freestanding swivel mirror that I look into to check the small amount of makeup I’m wearing. The mirror’s tilted and when I stand in front of it, I can’t see my reflection, only the window behind us.
The same window I peeked through months ago to watch him masturbate.
I wonder... no... did he? Was he watching me?
“Dan?”
“Hmm?” he says while slipping into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
I have no idea how to ask the question. Maybe it’s just a coincidence.
“I’m ready,” he says.
I look into the mirror then back to him, but he offers no sign that anything’s wrong, and perhaps that’s for the best. And if he saw me then I wonder why he didn’t call the cops. We didn’t know one another at the time. Unless he got off from it, literally, maybe that’s what happened. And clearly he’s not all that upset, or he never would’ve met me for our first date... or maybe he agreed to the date because I did that. Oh fuck, I’m confused. And if he didn’t see me I don’t want to tell him because...
“You having second thoughts about traveling in the middle of the night with a guy who once wanted to be a priest?” He extends his hand toward me. “I promise I won’t bring the foot.”
I don’t want to tell him because I’ll never do such a thing again. It was foolish and I regret it. But, no secrets, damn it. And with that thought, Dan’s voice runs through my head. I want you to tell me something that you’ve been keeping under lock and key. I want us to have an unbreakable relationship and that only happens with honesty and trust.
“I think I have voyeuristic tendencies,” I whisper. “Or I did, maybe I did, I’m unsure.”
Fuck. No expression at all? Nothing? He just stares at me blankly.
“I mean, what I’m trying to say is that I enjoy hidden sex cams,” I blurt out. “It’s a turn on to watch people screw. Or it used to be. I don’t know if it is anymore.”
Still nothing.
“Uh, why did I say that?” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”
“You watch porn?” he asks and I nod in response, now completely embarrassed. “You and me both, come on, let’s go.”
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, my dick just grew half a foot hearing that. You don’t watch clown porn though, do you?”
“Oh my God, no. That’s just wrong and sounds downright creepy. No, nothing extreme for me.”
“Good. Don’t. Trust me on that one. As long as you don’t enjoy clowns fucking you’ve earned bonus points in my book. Now let’s hit the road.”
That was dumb of me, what man would be opposed to his woman watching porn? Too bad I wussed out and didn’t mention the window.
We take Dan’s Cherokee and spend the two-hour drive exchanging stories about our childhood and college years. I wish this would last forever. I’m learning so much about him and I’m starting to pick up on his habits, like his finger tracing his lips, his hourly adjustment of his dick, and his happy-go-lucky whistling whenever I say something cute or set my hand on his leg.
He was a boy scout, of course, and a straight A student. He played hockey, soccer, and baseball as a kid. He won the county spelling bee when he was in 7th grade and wrote a series of short stories when he was thirteen about a boy who wanted to be this or that... Tommy’s Going To Be A Chef, Tommy Trains For The Olympics, Tommy Wants To Be A Spelunker. He still has them in a box in his closet, next to the honey and the foot.
And I tell Dan one of my dreams consisted of inventing new ice cream flavors, which he’s thrilled to hear all about. He listens as I try to remember the recipes for Chocolate Potato Chip Crunch, and Mint Milano Peanut Ripple. Shit, those still sound good. The problem was I could never figure out how to keep the chips from getting soggy.
I mention my job, briefly, and how I originally planned to run my own graphic design business after graduating from college, but couldn’t pass up the offer from the university. I thought I’d work for a year or two, save some money, and then start my own company. I doubt that plan works for very many people. Life and bills will always get in the way of a person’s dreams.
His face is lit then alternately darkened as we pass the streetlights along the highway. It’s a quiet night, a decent night for a drive. There hasn’t been rain for a week and that could be a sign of an upcoming dry summer.
I pull my seatbelt loose and rest my head on his shoulder, listening to him narrate, in great detail, the first time he saw a couple kiss. He was three and couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on. And then I tell him about my first kiss, when I was fourteen, and how I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was going on.
We laugh and touch one another tenderly, both of us anxious to stop at a hotel.
And when we arrive at a Comfort Inn around midnight there’s already a parking lot full of cars and Penske trucks.
He’s quiet and licks his lips; a nervous reaction that I also caught myself mimicking during the drive.
I want him.
He gets a room, but not before he asks me ten times if this hotel is alright, if I want to go someplace nicer, or not do this at all, and if I’ve changed my mind, that it’s okay.
“Dan, I’m going to be blunt. Take me inside and fuck me,” is what finally comes out of my mouth.
We walk to our room holding each other’s sweaty hands and step inside to two queen size beds with green and pink flowered comforters and dark brown cheap furniture placed along the walls to fill the room.
“It’s perfect,” I say.
This is bullshit.
No, it’s not. It’s about being with one another and spending time together and I don’t give a fuck where it is. We could’ve stopped at that vintage ‘50s motel with the fluorescent cowboy sign and it would’ve been fine.
You must really adore this guy.
Yes, yes I do.
“I feel like I’m
on my honeymoon,” Dan says, tossing our bags onto one of the beds. “Fuck, I had this all planned out and now I’m a nervous wreck. I should’ve just fucked you after our first date.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I whisper, walking slowly toward him. “I don’t believe you would’ve anyway. Now that we’ve spent time together I couldn’t imagine you being that type.”
“No,” he says softly, pulling me closer. “I wouldn’t have, not with you, and I’m glad you know me well enough to say that. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.” He brushes his lips gently across my neck and lifts my shirt over my head. “I’ve had my share of one night stands, but never with someone I could see myself with in the future. Those women meant nothing to me because I knew immediately I would never mean anything to them.” He rubs my lips with his finger and unsnaps my bra with his other hand, pulling the straps off my shoulders. “You’re different, Div. I’ve given you my heart before you ever got inside my jeans.” Our lips meet and my insides flutter. My bra falls to the floor, then his shirt, my jeans, his jeans, our socks, underwear... holy crap. This is really going to happen.
I’m surprised and more than delighted when we don’t fuck right away. He doesn’t throw me to the bed and prod into me like some wild animal. He doesn’t fuck me like a caveman for five minutes and then it’s over. He doesn’t say nasty or derogatory things to me like the men in some of the erotic books that I read and write. And I believe he could, we had a dirty session of sexual acts that night at his house. He has it in him; he said he read erotica for research purposes (yeah right), and that he likes to fuck hard... but not tonight. Not our first time. Dan’s the gentleman I thought I’d never meet, or that only exists in PG-13 romances, like Kimmy Firestorm romances.
He caresses every inch of my body, gently touching, massaging, kissing, and sucking until I’m in a continual state of arousal, an orgasm that begins but never ends. When I try to pleasure him, he guides me from his dick to his mouth, whispering that he’s not deserving until he knows I’m completely satisfied.
I’m in heaven.
My finger traces his dark is lovely tat while he puts on a condom. His smile’s contagious and his eyes are set on mine until he’s inside, and at that moment his eyes finally close and a heavy sigh is released from his mouth. It hurts a little since I haven’t done it in so long, but his tender touch detracts from the pain. There’s no movement from either of us. No words; just deep suggestive breathing. He feels incredible and that’s what he ultimately says as we begin making love, that I feel incredible to him.