by M. R. Joseph
I kiss him harder, longer, and faster and my impending orgasm is about to rip through me. The friction of our bodies magnifies from the heat of the water and I suddenly feel panic in my chest.
I lied to him. I’m a liar. I’m the girl from the letters and he has no idea. I’m the one whose heart he held and look at me now. Dry or wet humping the shit out of him and I’m the one thing he has trusted, and he doesn’t even know it. He doesn’t know it’s me. I want to run. I need to run. This can’t happen. I feel like the plain Jane high school Leighton again. I want to put my baseball cap and sunglasses on and hide from him. Hide from the fact that I still have feelings for him. I always have and it scares me… to death. I pull away and rise from the water, my body whirling from what just took place.
“Luca, I… I can’t. I have to go. Please, forgive me. I’m so sorry.” I climb out of the tub, quickly wrap my towel around me, and grab my flip flops. I run towards the back door of my new place and disappear. I run to my bathroom and slam my door. I look up at myself. My lips are swollen and red, and the remnants from our hot and heavy make out session are evident in the way I look. I’m still panting and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I brace my hands on either side of the sink and the warm, salty tears flow down my cheeks. I tell myself: “You can’t fall in love with him again. It’s not fair. He trusted you, not even knowing you he trusted you and you are betraying that trust. Your first day here and already he pulled you in like he did in high school. Why does he have to be so perfect? It would be so much better if he was a jerk, but he’s not, he’s Luca and you have to fight it, Leighton, fight loving him again if it’s the last thing you do.”
I really have no clue what the hell just happened. The chain of events that have led me to having blue balls has bewildered me. One minute I’m getting to know this beautiful, intelligent girl, we are half naked in my hot tub and I’m rubbing a cramp out her foot. Then she’s rubbing herself on me and I am about to tear her suit off. Next thing I know, she runs off. It was like I scared her or something. I’m pretty sure what just happened between us was by far, the hottest thing that has ever had happen to me. I’ve never felt the urge to consume a person so much as I did Leighton. From the time she came over this afternoon to look at the place, all I could do was focus on her mouth. On her soft lips, on her bare, tanned shoulders, and her knee caps. Yes, I said it, her knee caps. I don’t know why they turn me on, they just do. Don’t judge. I was granted a chance to touch them just a few minutes ago when I was running my hands up and down her wet legs.
I know that she just got out of a bad relationship so maybe that’s why she’s scared to give into what I think may be the obvious. I like this girl. I really do. There is such a familiarity to her. It feels so natural to talk to her. When she smiles, it does something to me, something I can’t explain. When she smiles, it is not just with her face, but with her soul. She crinkles up her tiny nose and her eyes sparkle. I’ve dated plenty of beautiful woman, but Leighton, she’s well…different. I’ve never felt such a pull to someone in my life. It’s almost how I used to feel about letter girl. Her words made me feel this way too. She was a mystery and in fact, so is Leighton.
Why is she so scared? Why did she leave her job so abruptly? Why did she decide to come back here? These are questions I need answered. I can’t get this girl out of my thoughts. With just the touch of her skin, I felt like I was on fire. I needed more of her, more from her, not just to fuck her senseless. Don’t get me wrong, she gave me the single most, hottest hand job with her foot I have ever experienced in my life, case in point, the reason for the ache in my crotch. I’d love to have my way with her in at least eight different ways, but it’s more than that. More than a lustful feeling, more than just wanting to see her naked, which oh, sweet Christ, I’d cut my right nut off to get a glimpse of that gorgeous body.
I’m a man and I’m lonely. I know I am. My friends know I am. My family knows I am. Hell, I’d even bet some might even think I’m gay. I don’t pursue woman. I’m not a one night stand kind of guy although I have done that a few times. It didn’t satisfy me in the way it was supposed to. Not fully anyway. Most guys are all about getting laid. They see a girl for the first time, and the instinct is to think with their dicks. I’m guilty of doing that before, but then after it was all said and done, I found it to be cold, dishonest, and just, I don’t know, unfulfilling.
Maybe I’m an exception to the rule as Papa tells me I am. He’s a romantic and tells me I am the same way. Cut from the same cloth. Papa brought my Mamma fresh flowers from the boardwalk every week just because he loved her. On Sundays, I remember after a family dinner he would put on some of that Italian crap music he adores so much and he would grab her from her spot of washing the dinner dishes, pull her towards the living room and dance cheek to cheek with her. She would laugh at him when he would whisper things in her ear, then he would nuzzle her neck and she would close her eyes and bask in the glory of their love. Papa never remarried because he told me he would never find a greater love than the one he lost. She was irreplaceable. He would tell me God made her just for him. I never used to believe that until my letters started to come. I wanted to find the woman who would be my “irreplaceable.”
The eighty’s music is still playing on the speaker and I think I’ve had enough of sappy songs for one night. I’m pruning and I need to take a shower, a cold one. I towel off, shut down and cover the hot tub, and go into my house alone. I peek out the front to see if Leighton’s porch light is on, and it’s not.
It’s dark so I tread back towards my bathroom and that’s when I hear the obvious sounds of James and Grace getting it on at his place above me. Great. Just fucking great. Hope their having fun up there. I turn on the shower head to the coldest setting imaginable. It better work or I’m royally screwed.
I’m done with my hissy fit and arctic shower so now I need sleep. Before I turn in, I feel the need to just put my hand and my ear to the wall knowing that Leighton’s bedroom is on the other side. I wonder if she’s asleep, if she’s dreaming. Is she thinking about what happened tonight between us? Just the thought of her beautiful face laying there with her dark hair sprayed across her pillows is driving me crazy. I have to stop and go in my room.
I turn back my covers and I just feel compelled to look up at the ceiling and attempt to think about something other than Leighton, but I can’t. I’m feeling crazy right now, restless and I need to calm down. The only thing I can think of that settles my nerves are my letters. They always have. I grab the shoebox in my closet and pull a random one out. It’s from high school. The date on it is December 20th, 2002.
So is it a coincidence that I found this particular letter among the dozens and dozens I have? I think not. I think it’s a sign that tells me that there is a special someone created for each of us. Fate has stepped in and brought Leighton into my life. I know I will never find my letter girl. I’m letting her go. She will always be a part of me, but I think I need to take a chance on fate this time to find out what my feeling are for this girl. Is she my someone? I’ll never know until I take the risk. I have to know if she feels what I feel. Do her thoughts drift to me? Did she feel the sparks between us, like I did?
I have to come up with a plan. If Leighton Parks feels anything for me, like I’m pretty sure I do towards her, well it’s time for me to make her fall in love with me. I have to set the wheels in motion and I know just the way.
I feel hung over but I know I’m not. I need coffee and some Advil. ASAP. Last night had to be a dream; I know it wasn’t but I feel like it was. I gave Luca Ferro a foot job in his hot tub. I will repeat it to myself again, Luca Ferro, foot job, hot tub. Oh, dear God, what was I thinking?
I’m a mess, a hot mess. I need to bathe in holy water for the duration of my life. It shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have let him touch me, feel my skin, explore parts of my body, kiss me feverishly with that sinful, sinful mouth of his. I shouldn’t have rubbed my well-pedicured foot all
over his dick. I shouldn’t have licked the lime juice from his neck or run my hands through his gelatinous, dark brown curls. My cheeks still sting a bit from his face stubble. Damn that man can kiss. I could never forget the way he grabbed the nape of my neck and pulled me towards him, the way he stroked my kneecaps, which sent me into a sexual frenzy that I had no control over. My God, what I felt when he touched me was mythical. I could have come right from the first stroke of his finger. Right then and there, and I would have been mortified. MORTIFIED! I have never had that kind of reaction to a man’s touch before. Not with any of my lovers. Luca’s touch was unlike anything I have ever felt. Even his eyes burning into mine were making my stomach and between my legs do things that I had a problem controlling. I’m all about control. I’m stoic. I’m guarded. I just can’t let love in right now.
Michael hasn’t ruined me for all men; I just need to focus on me for now. My priority needs to be my books, my interviews and most certainly not love, and certainly not Luca Ferro.
Speaking of interviews, my editor sent me over several Q & A sessions that I need to answer and send back before the end of the day. That should keep me busy.
I peer out my sliding glass door onto the porch and clear blue skies are staring back at me. The cries of seagulls in the distance wash over me as I open the door and the fresh, salt air awakens my senses.
I leave the door open slightly and walk back in to make a cup of coffee from my one cup coffee machine. It’s a coffee lover’s dream come true. Instant gratification. I grab my iPad and mug, and pad out to the porch. I’m going to set up camp for the day right here. Maybe stroll down to the beach later to take a break. The oversized porch furniture is cozy as I sit and open my iPad.
I hear a sliding door swing open and it startles me. It’s a little past six a.m. Who would be up at this hour? Seriously? It’s Luca, stretching on his porch in black and red running shorts and a white sleeveless running shirt? He’s bending over, and I have a perfect view of his defined derriere, his long, sleek legs. His insatiable calves do things to my insides, turning me into a pile of mush.
Please, oh please, sweet baby Jesus, forgive me for wanting to lick his calves. Nope, don’t fall, don’t do it. Oh God, he’s stretching his arms above his head and unknowingly flexing his muscular arms. His tanned skin is glistening in the early morning light and it’s simply sinful. Just downright not fair. He’s twisting his waist side to side to stretch now and it’s more than I can stand. I think I feel drool coming out the side of my mouth, and then he turns his body towards me. I can’t help but gasp as he pulls his arms up above his head and I can see his shirt ride up above his belly button and there it is, his G.I. Joe, Ken doll, ‘V’ staring me in the face as his running shorts hang seductively from his hips. Now I’m sure I need to swipe at my mouth and clear the drool. He caught me. His eyes go to mine and he smirks.
“Good morning, Leighton. Hope you slept well.”
I can’t reply. I can’t speak. I can’t move. I’m in hell. He runs down the few steps off his porch and begins to jog towards the beach. God my heart is racing, my palms are sweaty, and I may have to go change my underwear. Focus, Leighton. Focus. Get your shit together, girl. If you’re going to be living next door to him, get used to the fact that you are living next to a God, a sex on a stick God, whose body is a temple and you are in no condition to worship. Your shot was last night. You didn’t want it, so shame on you, I mean me.
I get through two interviews before I can see Luca begin running back up towards the quad. Shirtless, sweating, panting, and it’s merciless. I need to remove myself if only for a bit. I need a shower, a cold one. But before I do, I feel the need to sneak a peek. His long, tanned torso is covered in sweat, his rippling abs have a sheen of wetness to them, and his shorts, those shorts, are clinging to him like a second skin. Must. Look. Away. I need to close my eyes, grab my shit, and make my escape.
As I run into my house at his approach, I close the sliding glass door with so much force, I hear something snap. Oh, shit. I think I broke something. Doors and I have a tumultuous relationship these days. I’m not going to worry about it now. I just need to clear my head, and my eyes. Maybe by the time I’m done, he will be gone, but I know I can’t avoid him forever. I owe him an explanation as to why I took off the way I did last night. I just need to explain to him how I just got out of a relationship and that I’m not looking to start something else right now. I can never explain the real reason. That I betrayed him, made him fall in love with someone who wasn’t real, even though my words were. He deserves better than that. I know I’m being cynical but I’m wounded and I know that if I pursued my attraction to Luca, he would only hurt me in the end. He’s Luca. I should have more confidence in myself but I think Michael crushed that. He lied, told me he wanted to be with me, that there was no one else. I should not have let lust get in the way of my better judgment. I didn’t see the signs. They were right there, staring me in the face, but like I said, lust blinds you and that’s all it was. Lust. I didn’t love Michael. I was addicted to the passion, the idea of him constantly wanting me. I guess now the reason for that was his pregnant wife at home. Maybe he wasn’t attracted to her anymore because of the fact that she was pregnant with a growing body. I’m assuming because I don’t know any better.
When M.J. was pregnant with her son Patrick, I thought she was the most beautiful I had ever seen her. Glowing like rays of sunshine and Ryan, well, he couldn’t keep his heavily tattooed hands off of her. When she walked into a room, he lit up. I’d like that someday, I think, for someone to look at me that way. Michael always just had “fuck me” eyes where I was concerned.
I swear and if I’m not mistaken, Luca’s eyes did not mimic Michael’s last night. They were lustful of course but when I spoke he looked at me, at my face, not at my tits, not at my bare stomach, at me, into my eyes. He was focused on me when I talked. When I knew that his tattoo was a quote from Shakespeare, I saw in his eyes nothing less than astonishment. It was like we connected on something more than on a sexual level. That scared me, a lot.
My shower felt so good. I feel so much more relaxed. I wonder if Luca has to work today. I’m silently praying he does. I want to work outside today and I know just the thoughts of him being ten feet away from me, will be distracting. I put on a little moisturizer with a bronzer in it and a thin coat of mascara. I’m so used to wearing it heavy; it feels good to just give them a quick coat. I finish off with a little bit of medicated Chapstick to ease the still stinging that I still felt from the fiery lips of Luca from last night. I touch them in the mirror and close my eyes briefly. My heart is racing at the memory of his lips, his hands tangled in my hair, his chocolate eyes raking mine. I have to brace myself on this sink to just stop my knees from shaking. I can’t be affected by him like this. That’s it. I have to mentally prepare myself not to feel like this. I need to tell him face to face that what happened last night can never happen again. Yes, we may be attracted to each other, but we would be better as friends and neighbors. It’s for our own good. You can do it, Leighton, be strong. Be strong.
I blow my hair dry in waves and get dressed. I take a deep breath and head out the door towards his place. Be strong, Leighton. Be strong. I have to make my way over to his porch and knock. I open my door and I see him out front on his lawn and he seems to be watering the flowers. Journey is blasting out from the speakers inside his house.
“Luca, I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to talk.”
He turns right around at the sound of my voice, still watering those damn flowers. Suddenly, the nozzle of the hose pops off and water begins to spray all over Luca. He throws the hose away from him and I cover my mouth in surprise. Holy fucking shit. Standing in front of me is the most glorious sight that if I died right now, I’d be buried with a huge shit eating grin on my face. Luca Ferro is standing there, in the hot June summer sun, wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts, and a navy blue V neck t-shirt, which is now drenched. My eyes go directl
y to the way the water has made his clothes cling to him and I feel like everything is in slow motion. Luca takes his big, strong hand and rakes it through his mop of dark brown locks, he shakes the excess water out of his hair as he does so, moving back and forth at a snail’s pace. He then slowly inches up his clinging t-shirt and seductively pulls it over his head. Every muscle, every inch of tanned skin, arching, and moving as he does so. His shorts, soaked down with water hangs gangly from his hips. The band of his underwear doing a peek-a-boo under the waistband of his shorts. I have to shake my head and blink a few times. The slow motion action dissipates, and I come back down to earth. Luca stalks over to me, wringing out his wet shirt in the process.
“I’m sorry about that. I have no idea how that nozzle could have popped off. What was it you needed to speak to me about?” I think my panties may have just melted off at the heat pulsing through my body.
He actually wants me to speak after that show? Can I even form words? Sure you can, Leighton. You have to be strong. Remember, lust gets you into trouble, and this standing in front of you is nothing less than that. I have to clear my throat and I gather my thoughts.
“Um, yes, Luca. Listen I owe you an explanation as to why I took off on you so abruptly last night. I was in a relationship with someone before I moved back here, and it ended badly enough that I had to leave my job. He was… married. I thought he was getting a divorce. He wasn’t.
“Anyway, I’m getting off the subject. I know we seem to have a mutual attraction to each other but we can’t let what happened last night, happen again. I’m still nursing my wounds and I just can’t allow myself to get caught up in anything or anyone else right now. Do you understand?”
He nods. “I completely understand. I apologize for last night. I would never want to make you feel uncomfortable. We are neighbors and friends, right?”