by R. R. Banks
We’re both laughing as he sweeps me up through the surface and against him. I wrap my arms around his neck, savoring the feeling of his skin through the cool of the water.
“You did it,” he says happily.
I nod, grinning at him.
“I know.”
“You need to get out of the pool now.”
We look over at the lifeguard leaning toward us from the edge of the pool, and see him gesturing for us to move so the next person can come down the slide. I reluctantly pull away from Grant and swim a few feet until I can stand and walk up the steps out of the pool.
“What’s next?” Grant asks. “Do you want to do the lazy river now?”
I shake my head.
“No,” I tell him. “Let’s do another slide.” He smiles and starts toward another set of steps, but I grab his arm to stop him. “Anything but Black Out,” I say. “We’re still not there yet.”
“You… and the slide?” Grant asks.
I nod.
“Alright,” he says. “We’ll do something else now. But I’m going to get you on that slide eventually.”
I don’t agree, but don’t protest, either. He reaches for my hand, and we start off toward another raft slide.
He doesn’t get me on Black Out that day, but we spend the rest of the afternoon tackling the other slides, splashing in the wave pool, and gliding around the lazy river. As the hours pass, we linger longer at the end of the slides, and spend more time with him cradling me in his arms as we let the waves bounce us in the pool. On our third float around the river, Grant holds the handle of my tube so we can stay linked, and I rest my head on his arm as I stare up at the sky, hoping it will never get dark.
Far too soon, we’re walking up the path to my front door again. I stop on the porch and turn around to face him. Without a word, Grant cups one hand around my face and draws me close, touching a soft kiss to my lips. Everything stops. The world. All sound. My heart.
When the kiss ends, he looks into my eyes for a moment, then lets his hand slide away from my face and walks away. I’m breathless as I watch him leave, and only go inside when he disappears from view.
The next afternoon my heart leaps in my chest when I see Grant walk up to the front window of the shop. That sight makes it worth it that I’m cleaning up the fourth puddle created by a cone that didn’t survive the wait between being made and it’s intended eater choosing toppings. I want to lean across the counter and kiss him, but I have to maintain the degree of professionalism warranted by working at an ice cream shop. Which is to say, none. But I’m not tall enough to make it all the way out the window without dipping my chest in hot fudge.
“What can I get for you today?”
“A scoop of French vanilla, a scoop of chocolate, a scoop of strawberry, half a scoop of pistachio, a quarter of a scoop of black walnut, and a quarter of a scoop of coffee. Whipped cream on all of it. Chocolate sprinkles on half, rainbow on the other. Walnuts on the chocolate half, peanuts on the rainbow half.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Are you testing my sundae making skills?”
“Yes,” he replies.
I sigh. “Is that what you actually want?” I ask.
“Two scoops of chocolate, please,” he says.
I smile and pick up a waffle cone.
“Whipped cream and sprinkles?” I ask.
“And a cherry,” he says.
That mischievous smile is back on his lips, and I give him one in return before picking a cherry and setting it atop the plume of whipped cream.
It goes on like this for the next two weeks. Nearly every day, Grant shows up during the last hour or two of my shift, orders whatever combination of flavors and toppings he desires, and waits for me. He always asks for a cherry. When I’m done with work, he has an adventure planned for us. Each day is sweeter than the next, filled with ice-cream flavored kisses and the warmth of his hand holding mine. At the end of the night, he pulls me in close and coaxes my tongue toward his as his hands run slowly over my body. I can feel the touch through my clothes, and it makes me crave more. On the days he spends with his brothers, I wake up to a text from him, and a preview of his order for the next day. It rarely stays the same, but the thought is nice.
Today, I woke up to a text that he wouldn’t make it to the shop that day, but that he’d see me in the evening. I spend all day thinking about him, wondering what he has planned for tonight. As we climb up onto the ridge to look out over one of the great treasures of Magnolia Falls – an old outdoor theater that once housed a long-running stage production depicting the origin story of the town – I have my answer. Decades ago, it was bought out and converted into an outdoor theater, with a huge screen to play movies. Though moviegoers sit on the same cement benches designed as the bowl of the original theater, people started calling it the drive-in, and that's what it's been called ever since. It rolls off the tongue better than Howard P. Notthehotel Johnson's Magnificent Cinema of the Stars, which is still what the flashing neon billboard reads. According to my grandmother, Mr. Johnson, Notthehotel to his friends, designed and bought the sign on a whim, and then went about finding a location to put it.
Grant had a blanket with him when he picked me up, and he spreads it across the grass now, letting me settle onto it first before sitting down beside me. We're positioned right near the edge, far enough away so no one else can see us, but close enough to let us watch the movie. Lying on our stomachs, propped up on our elbows, it feels like we're the only people there.
"This is an amazing view," I tell him. "I never knew people could watch from up here."
"Well, technically, they can't," he says.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"This is my family's property," he says.
"No wonder the access road was so hard to get to," I say. "How very sneaky of you."
I look back at the screen but feel Grant slide closer to me. His body is warm beside me, and I feel the muscle of his shoulder press against mine. I am suddenly extremely aware of how close he is to me. I turn to him, and his face is only inches from mine.
"You're not the only one who likes a sneak peek," he murmurs.
My heart jumps in my chest, and my little slip comes racing back to haunt me. He did see me that afternoon three years ago.
"Hmm?" I say, trying to play it off like I don't know what he's talking about.
His hand comes to my back, and I feel his fingertips through the clingy fabric of my tank top. They trace my spine, and another chill rolls through me. My intense focus on my future, not to mention my consistent lack of free time throughout high school, meant I’d never let myself be in the position for someone to touch me like this. The closest I’d ever gotten was a few makeout sessions at the drive-in, down in the seats of the commoners below. I’d stopped anything else before it even happened. But, I can’t seem to bring myself to stop this.
"You watched me when you came over to see Dean," he says. "I was rehearsing in my bedroom, and you stood out in the hall, and watched me."
"I heard you singing," I confess. "I was curious."
"Curious?" Grant asks. He slides up even closer, and now we're pressed together, touching from our shoulders down our bodies. "Why did you run away? You could have come in, you know. It would have saved me from having Dean give you some dry clothes."
His voice is lower and rumbles in his throat. My eyes linger on his lips, then to his bright, earnest eyes. My heart is pounding so hard I feel it shaking on the ground beneath me, and I lean toward him.
"You told him to do that?”
“Of course, I did. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. I still say you should have come in, though, instead of running away.”
“What would you have done if I had?" I ask, softening my voice to match the volume of his.
What am I saying? This isn’t like me.
His stare holds me in place. The tension between us is so palpable, I can barely breathe.
"Probably nothing," he ad
mits.
My heart clenches painfully.
"Nothing?" I ask.
He gives a barely perceptible shake of his head. Lifting his hand away from my back, he runs his fingers along the side of my face and down the curve of my jaw.
"No," he says. "You were much too young then. It wasn’t the right time." His fingertips brush over my lips, then down along the front of my throat. "That isn’t a problem now."
My resistance is completely gone by the time his head dips and Grant's mouth meets mine. I instantly feel revived. His kiss is unrelenting, and I surrender to it wholly, letting my lips part and his tongue tangle with mine. His body guides me back until I'm lying on the worn blanket, the weight of him pressing down on me. It’s a warm, delicious sensation and I sink beneath it, wrapping my arms around him to close the space around us.
His hands take hold of my tank top, taking my bra straps along with it as he pulls them down over my shoulders, spilling my breasts out into the summer night air. Grant takes his mouth away from mine, and I gasp as one hand cups the bottom of my breast and lifts it before he swirls his tongue around my taut nipple. It sends an unexpected shock of pleasure through me, and I feel my body begin to tremble. Moving his mouth to the other breast, he repeats the dizzying attention for a few seconds before sliding my bra and shirt back into place.
There’s a sinking feeling of disappointment in my stomach, but it lasts only a few seconds before Grant takes the tank top and peels it over my head. His fingers work deftly to release the front clasp of my lacy rose-colored bra, and I sit up to maneuver myself out of it. The air brushes over my bare skin, and I’m instantly aware of how easily we could be exposed. But I don’t care. Right now, the only thing that matters is Grant, and the way his dark eyes drink me in, scanning my body like he’s been waiting a lifetime to see, and worship it.
Grant dips his head and touches a kiss to the middle of my belly, just beneath my navel. I draw in a breath, and he lifts his head to smile at me. Wordlessly, he continues his progress until he reaches the low-slung waistband of my shorts. His tongue dips down beneath the fabric, tracing a path from one hipbone to the other. I’ve never been a tall, willowy girl, but Grant licks and nibbles his way across my body like it’s even more delectable than the ice cream he’s ordered nearly every day. I remember the way his tongue swept the melting cream into his mouth that day, and I know just how that ice cream must have felt. I’m melting beneath the heat of him, and every fiber of my being is awake and attentive, ready for more.
I feel the button on the front of my shorts release, and the pressure of the fabric lessen as Grant lowers my zipper. Lifting my hips, I let him slide my shorts down my legs and toss them away from us. The panties I’m wearing are little more than a scrap of lace to match my bra, and he gathers the damp fabric away from my body in one movement.
Suddenly, I feel vulnerable. I’m stretched out on the blanket in front of him, completely bare, and Grant hasn’t taken off a single article of his own clothing. I want to cover myself, and yet, I don’t want to obstruct him from staring at me so intently.
Instead, I reach for his shirt and tug on it. He gives me a playful smile, and pretends he doesn’t know what I want for a few seconds, but cuts the teasing short and mercifully pulls off his shirt. He leans down to kiss me as he supports himself with one hand and removes his pants with the other. Just before he pushes them the entire way off his hips, he dips his hand into his pocket and comes up with a condom. Grant smiles and kisses me again, quickly heating me back up. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him close. I’m very aware of the pressure and weight of his erection against me, and I lift my hips up slightly to feel more of it.
Grant rocks forward, letting his cock run across my belly. I gasp at the feeling, my mind anticipating what’s coming, imagining how it will feel with that long, thick length filling me. For a moment I wonder if I should tell him I’m a virgin. He knows. I know he does. But part of me wonders if I should confirm his suspicions. I wonder if it would change anything.
The sound of the condom wrapper ripping stops the thoughts rushing through my mind, and Grant’s eyes meet mine. He might be searching for hesitation, or for a sign, but I don’t say anything. Grant sits back and I watch, my mouth practically watering, as he sets the condom on the tip of his cock, and rolls it down to settle at the base. I expect him to come back down on top of me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he sets his hand down in the center of my belly, pressing down slightly as if to calm me.
I’m still shaking as he draws his hand down further, turning it to rest between my hip bones. His fingertip dips down, and I cry out at the sudden rush of intense sensation that courses through me. Grant puts one finger to his lips.
“Shhh,” he whispers.
He draws his finger down, then lowers his head so I can feel his breath on my hot, wet folds. His finger settles at my entrance as he kisses the insides of my thighs, then dips it slightly inside. My body seems to close around it, unsure of the unfamiliar intrusion, but Grant pushes a little deeper and brings his mouth between my thighs to flick his tongue over my sensitive clit. In a rush, my body gets wetter, and relaxes slightly.
Grant withdraws his finger, and I whimper my protest at the sudden feeling of emptiness. His eyes meet mine as he rises over me and replaces his finger with the tip of his cock. Grant lowers his mouth to mine, his tongue slipping through my lips, tangling with mine as he rocks his hips forward to slowly sink into me.
I draw in a sharp breath, but he keeps his mouth tightly on mine. His engorged cock meets resistance, and he pauses, allowing me to accommodate him, before pushing the rest of the way forward. A sharp pain gives way to a feeling of being stretched open, and Grant stops. He keeps his hips pushed against me, his body filling mine to capacity. I’m overwhelmed by the sensation, and my body tenses. Grant takes his mouth from mine, resting our foreheads together. He soothes me with his voice, making me feel safe and comforted. After a few seconds, my body starts to relax, and I can feel my tight walls settle around him.
Grant’s hips begin to move, massaging me. I thought I held as much of him within me as I could, but as he glides, he slips in even deeper. Soon the pain gives way to warm, all-consuming pleasure. I cling to him, my hands gripping his back as sounds pour from my mouth. Sweat makes our bodies slide easily against each other, and my hips begin to answer his with little lifts and circles as I seek out as much of the pleasure as possible.
I feel like I’m close to losing control as a wave of intense pressure builds within me. Tingling sensations reach my fingertips and toes, and in an earth-shattering crash, I collapse into a cascade of spasms that shake my entire body. Grant kisses me harder to muffle the cries bubbling up my throat, and thrusts into me even harder and faster than before. Suddenly, he slams into me and holds, his cock getting harder for a moment before pulsing to meet my pulsating walls around him.
I feel him groan against my lips, and he pulls his mouth away to gasp for air. Beginning to thrust again slowly, Grant gradually lowers down until he’s stretched on top of me, reaching down for my hand. Our fingers intertwine as his head rests on my chest; his lips kissing my dampened skin. I try to savor every detail of what’s happening. I want to remember the way he felt, tasted, and smelled. But even as I try to memorize everything I experienced, the adrenaline slides away, and relaxation takes its place. My eyes close, and I feel myself drifting off to sleep.
When I wake up, I don't know how long I've been out. I'm not sure what drew me out of my slumber, and it takes a few seconds for me to register the sound of jumbled voices beneath me. The movie is over, and the audience is scrambling out of their seats, streaming out of the theater like there is anywhere else to go in Magnolia Falls this late at night. I know some of them are likely headed for the Chew-Chew Diner, in which case their hurrying might be justified. The old converted train car can only hold so many people and still have room for the wildly inaccurate Wild West bandit show that happens every thirty minutes.
Flashes of the delicious dream I just had flicker through my mind, and I feel my stomach flutter. My body is humming, my lips swollen, and reality dawns on me. Beside me I hear a low groan, and I look over to see Grant's face a few inches from mine.
It wasn't a dream.
I really did have sex with Grant Laurence, and am now lying naked with him, curled up in his old picnic blanket on the ridge above the drive-in. His eyes flutter open, and he gives me a warm, satisfied smile. Leaning forward, he presses a lazy kiss to my lips. His hand slides up my thigh and into the dip of my waist, then over my breast before cupping around my face to hold it in place as he deepens the kiss.
I wonder if my English Composition I class will have a "What I Did Over Summer Break" assignment? I have a great essay idea.
* * *
Grant
Two days later…
The smile on Emma's face tells me she's happy to see me standing on her front porch, and I instantly feel sick. That smile has been in my mind for the last two weeks. If I'm going to be completely honest, it's been there for almost four years. I've had my eye on her since then, but it was easy to resist her when we were younger. I should have kept my hands off her. Two weeks ago, I should have just gone to the ice cream stand, said hello, and walked away. But I didn't. The instant I saw her, now an adult, and even more confident, smiling at me from the window as the wind blew her hair around her face, I lost it. I had to see her and spend more time with her, and the more I did, the more addicted to her I became. And now I have to say goodbye.
"Hi," she says as she steps through the storm door and out onto the porch. "This is a nice surprise."