The Kissing Coach

by Mimi Strong

  “Not as a coach.” He took two steps toward me. “I want to kiss you to show you how I feel about you.”

  I laughed, my voice still squeaky. “I hear people do that.”

  He caught my hands in his and moved in closer. My back was against the cool, concrete wall.

  “You're nervous,” he said.

  “So are you.”

  He looked down at my lips, and he leaned forward. I tilted my face up.

  Our lips touched, and I felt a sizzle of energy snake through me.

  My arms wrapped up around his shoulders, and he pulled me into him.

  Both of us breathed heavily, breathing as one, and his hands were hot and moist on my back as he ground his hips into mine. I moaned into his lips, and soon he was kissing my throat, unbuttoning my cotton dress, and kissing me between my breasts.

  We paused just long enough for him to lead me over to a workshop area and set me up on a workbench.

  He stood before me, between my legs as I sat. We kissed some more, and I unfastened his belt. I wanted our skin to touch. I wanted to lose the distance between us. His pants fell to the floor with a thud.

  “Wallet and cell phone,” he said as he finished unbuttoning the front of my dress.

  I pulled him into me, and wrapped my legs around him, both of us in nothing but our underwear.

  He sucked on my neck as I ran my fingertips up and down his beautiful back.

  “I don't have a condom,” he said.

  “I'm already on birth control, to help with my cycle. I've been tested for everything, and I haven't been with anyone but you in years.”

  He pulled back and blinked at me.

  I continued, “How about you?”

  “If you're asking if I've been with anyone else since my first time with you, the answer is … are you kidding me? How could anyone ever top that? I mean, of course not.”

  I covered my face with my hands, feeling shy. “Well, I don't know. I mean, it's been a while.”

  “It's been one hundred days since I saw you.”

  I pulled my hands away from my face and stared into his brown eyes. I could lose myself in those dark eyes.

  He took my hand in his and kissed my forearm, then all the way up to my shoulder. As he pressed his body against mine, he said, “I want to make love to you.”

  “Oh.”

  “Because I think I'm in love with you.”

  “That would explain the counting of the days.”

  He kissed my lips, then said, “You're so cheeky.”

  “I did lose track of the days, but my heart is beating like a little rabbit's. I think I might be in love with you, too.”

  He hugged me, burying his face in my hair next to my neck. “I was so worried you didn't feel it too. I didn't dare call. I kept putting it off, but I shouldn't have. I'm so stupid.”

  I ran my hands through his soft, black hair. “Doesn't matter. I'm here now.” I looked around the room, at the assortment of tools hanging from the walls and the stacks of cardboard boxes, some of them labeled Xmas Decorations.

  We were in one of the most beautiful boutique hotels in the city, and Devin had access to all the rooms, and here we were, down in the tool shop, and it was perfect. Just perfect.

  He kissed his way down my chest, then helped me wriggle out of my panties.

  Still seated on the work table, I ran my fingers over his bare chest, over his chest muscles and taut abs, and then I pulled down his underwear.

  He ran his fingertips up and down the spot between my legs, wet and swollen for him. He stopped on my nub and rubbed it in a circle as he leaned down to kiss me. As our tongues touched, I felt pressure on my opening.

  He moaned into my mouth, a sound that seemed like a question.

  His fingers kept circling, sending wave after aching wave of pleasure through my body.

  I responded to his wordless question by grabbing his ass with both hands and pulling him into me.

  As his whole erection slid easy into me, filling me, I gasped and started to come immediately.

  He rocked gently in and out, still working me with his finger, and soon I was moaning into his soft lips, shuddering with pleasure, from the inside of me where he was, and all the way to the back of my skull.

  He started moving faster and harder, both of us sweating and grunting now, and with a gasp, he paused and then shook, coming inside me.

  I held him against me.

  The space between us was gone.

  After a moment, I took his hand from between us, kissed his fingertips, and then placed his hand on my back. We hugged, holding each other tighter and tighter, me with my legs wrapped around him.

  My life had just changed.

  “We're together,” he whispered.

  “Together.”

  I got a serious case of the giggles as I put my clothes back on, picking my bra off the top of a miter saw.

  “Look at that,” Devin said as he swiped some sawdust off the back of my thigh.

  “Disgraceful.”

  “Girl, you make me crazy. I see you buttoning up that dress, and I want to take it back off again.”

  I pretended to be prim and proper. “Sheesh. Maybe you should buy a girl dinner.”

  He grabbed me in a hug, still shirtless, his skin so hot under my hands. “Every night,” he said. “I will buy you dinner every night, forever.”

  “Except for when it's my treat, which will be half the time.”

  He pulled back and stared into my eyes. “Not if you keep mailing checks back to clients.”

  My body felt strangely loose and tense at the same time, but his beautiful skin and eyes were turning me on again.

  I said, “You're not going to cash that check, are you?”

  “You earned it, and I don't need it. You're an excellent coach. I'm seeing that guy, the therapist, and he's not half as good as you, but I'm not staring at his hot body and getting all distracted, so … there's that.”

  He reached into a cupboard below where I was sitting and pulled out two bottles of a pink, sparkling drink. The bottles were cold.

  “Mini fridge,” he said.

  “It's almost as if you planned this.”

  He stammered, looking embarrassed. “Feather, I swear I didn't. I wasn't sure if I'd ever see you again. I thought you hated me, and sending that check back was your way of telling me to fuck off forever.”

  I shook my head and joked, “Oh, Devin, why can't I quit you?”

  His eyes brightened and he leaned in to examine my necklace.

  “It's a feather,” he said. “That's the coolest thing I've ever seen, but now I'm angry.”

  “Why?”

  “Because now what am I going to get you for your birthday? I don't even know when your birthday is, but I want to go back in time, buy up all the feather necklaces in town, and surprise you on your birthday.”

  “You have a time machine?”

  “Yes, I've been spending a lot of time down here in the shop, tinkering away at one. My plan is to go back and see the dinosaurs, of course.”

  “Oh, of course.”

  He retrieved his shirt and put it back on, which only made me want to tear it off.

  “October,” I said. “My birthday's in October.”

  “Mine's in November.”

  He slipped his arms around me and drew me in for a kiss, a lingering, closed-mouth kiss that felt as hot as any passionate kiss I'd had.

  When we pulled apart, I said, “My middle name is Katharine.”

  “Mine's Arthur.”

  We kissed again.

  I told him, “I'm a college dropout.”

  “I play a lot of video games in my free time.”

  I giggled as he crushed his lips into mine again. This kiss was longer, sending heat down between my legs.

  “My best friend's name is Steph, and I tell her everything. I may have broken the confidentiality rule just a bit.”

  “I can't wait to meet her.”

  “She gave me
the necklace.”

  “Good!” He examined it again. “I'm glad it wasn't some guy.”

  “Do you have a best friend?”

  “I have two best friends, and they're good guys.”

  “Maybe I'll meet them. Maybe some day we'll leave this basement.”

  “Not yet,” he said, and he started unbuttoning my dress again.

  We did leave the basement of the hotel … eventually.

  He had to stay and work, helping with some interviews, but before I left, we made a date for the next day, Sunday.

  I rushed home and got changed for my other date, the one with my mother.

  Since the day she'd brought over the croissants and been so sweet to me, we'd been getting along better. I could still only handle her in limited doses—no more than three hours—but things had been going well.

  Occasionally, she'd say something rude and my hackles would go up, my system flooding with stress chemicals. I'd been practicing biting my tongue, though, and it was paying off. When I failed to respond to one of her little “digs,” she'd actually talked herself down, arguing with herself and then eventually apologizing to me for the original comment.

  That Saturday night, she was having a dinner with two of her oldest friends, Lacey and Bev, both of whom I used to call “Aunty” when I was little. Both had moved to other cities within the last five years, but they'd come up with this new plan where every August, they'd meet in one of their three cities for a girls' weekend.

  We met at a restaurant that was a little stuffy for my taste, but perfectly appropriate for the group. The two women hugged me and showered me with compliments. I felt a little guilty for stealing all the attention, but my mother didn't seem to mind.

  “Feather's one of the top coaches in town,” my mother said as the salads were served.

  When the main courses arrived, she said, “Feather has a dedicated clientele who couldn't live without her.”

  Over shared desserts, she said, “Feather's so lucky to have found her gift at such a young age. Look at my gorgeous daughter. She's twenty-two! She's half my age, but she's catching up now.”

  I begged her again to stop with the compliments. “Enough, Mom! I'm not perfect. I was doing some online banking last week and I transferred money the wrong way and bounced my rent check.”

  The three women laughed, and Lacey said, “Bouncing a check is a rite of passage. Like getting a tattoo.”

  My mother frowned. “Don't give her any ideas. She has such lovely skin, I don't want to see a mark on it.”

  That was when Lacey stood up, raised her blouse, and showed us the brand-new tattoo on the inside of her hip bone. It was a cherubic angel, holding a pitchfork.

  Some people in the restaurant around us stared our way as they dabbed at their mouths with cloth napkins.

  My mother put her face in her hands, laughing until two wet little tears ran down her cheeks. “Oh, Lacey, you're so bad now.”

  Lacey tucked her shirt back in and sat down, beaming with delight at having caused scandal at our table.

  “To heck with being a good girl,” Lacey said. “Bad girls have all the fun.”

  After dinner, my mother drove me home, and we sat talking in her car, outside my apartment.

  After ten minutes of talking about crazy Lacey and her tattoos and the younger man she was dating, I asked my mother if she wanted to come up for a cup of tea.

  “No, it's late,” she said, though it was barely nine o'clock. “Why, is there something on your mind? Have you made any decisions about school?”

  “School? Oh, no plans yet. It's too late now to apply for this fall, but I may do something part-time.”

  “Really? You seemed so happy tonight. I thought you had big news about school, but you didn't say anything.”

  “Oh. Well, remember that guy I was all sad about? I went to see him today, and I guess we're dating now.”

  She gave me a skeptical look. “Is he a nice boy? He already broke your heart once, Feather. I don't trust him.”

  “It's fine. I'll tell you more about it some other time. Maybe after a few more dates. And then, of course, you'll meet him.” The idea of them meeting made my heart beat a little faster. “We're taking it slow for now,” I said, though it wasn't exactly true.

  She nodded, one eyebrow arched up.

  Yeah, my mother always could see right through me.

  “There's something else,” she said. “I want to pay for your school. I've been saving for a long time, and I think it's time to start spending the money on things that matter.”

  “Mom, you don't have to do that. I have my own money.”

  She stared straight ahead, tapping her fingertips lightly on the steering wheel. The sky was hazy and pink, with sunset coming soon.

  “I insist,” she said. “All your tuition. And if you need money for rent, I'll see what I can do, but perhaps you should move back in with me if you're in school full-time.”

  I grabbed the door handle and threw the door open, laughing. “Hey, hey, let's not be so hasty.”

  She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “There are worse things than living with your mother.”

  I thought of some snappy comeback lines, but bit my tongue.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I leaned across the car interior and gave her a hug.

  “And thank you,” she said, her voice choking. “Thank you for letting me in.”

  “Mom, you were never out.”

  She squeezed me tighter. “I'm sorry I wasn't always understanding. I make no excuses for the past. I want you to know how proud of you I am.”

  “Stop it, you're making me cry,” I said, but it was too late.

  “Love you, princess.”

  “I love you too.”

  When I got up to my apartment, I started the bath running and checked my email. There was a forwarded message from my mother, sending me one of those funny pictures with the old-fashioned people on it. Instead of deleting the email unread, I actually opened it. That was how much warmer I was feeling toward the woman who gave me life; I read her dumb email, and I laughed.

  There were a ton of emails. I had three people booking first appointments with me for the next week. At this rate, I'd have to hire an assistant before the year was through.

  Why had I wanted to go to school again? I already had a growing business, doing what I loved, and if things kept up, I'd be making great money soon.

  Even so, I was worried.

  People came to me with problems I could fix, as well as problems that were beyond my fixing, and I didn't know if I'd be able to tell the difference.

  After messing things up so badly with Devin, I didn't know if I could trust myself. Helping another human being make important life decisions was a huge responsibility. What if I kept messing people up?

  On Sunday, Devin picked me up at two o'clock for our date.

  I opened the door, and he handed me flowers.

  “These aren't extras or leftovers,” he said. “I bought them, just for you, because they're beautiful and I understand that's something guys do when they are courting a lady.”

  Laughing, I took them to the kitchen and put them in the tall, orange teapot. “Courting a lady. Is that what you were doing to me in the hotel basement?”

  He wrapped his arms around me from behind and planted a big kiss on my neck. His touch was incredible, sending a wave of lust through me already. He growled near my ear, a low, rumbling moan that I felt all the way down to my toes, but especially between my legs.

  I kept arranging the flowers, pretending to be unperturbed.

  “Mmm,” he moaned again, his hands running up and down my sides, then cupping my breasts.

  I leaned back against his strong body, arching my back and pressing my buttocks into his crotch. There was definitely some blood-rush going on down there for him, as well.

  “Turn around,” he said. “I want to kiss you.”

  As soon as I turned, he grabbed me tighter.


  Gasping, I said, “I can't breathe.”

  He loosened his grip. “Sorry, I just … I don't want you to get away.”

  “Then don't ever let me go.”

  He shook his head. “I won't. Not again.”

  As we kissed, my heart fluttered, and I felt as nervous as ever. Devin's pulse was pounding as well, and I knew he felt it too, but it was the good kind of nervousness.

  We stood making out in my kitchen, both of us getting warmer and warmer, until I was tugging at his clothes.

  He pulled back and said, “When I walked into the coffee shop that first time for our meeting, I almost walked right out again. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Aw, don't be mean.”

  “I'm not being mean. You were just so … devastatingly beautiful. I was expecting some middle-aged woman.”

  “And you were going to kiss her? Dirty boy.” I grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and tugged it up so I could kiss his bare chest.

  He moaned as I flicked the hard buttons of his nipples with my tongue.

  “No, I wasn't going to kiss some random life coach lady. I thought she'd talk some sense into me, talk me out of my silly … oh, you wicked girl, what are you doing to me?”

  “Just kissing your chest,” I said, peering up at him through my eyelashes. “Making sure you don't have a phobia about that.”

  “I came over to take you out, and now you make me want to throw you over my shoulder and haul you up that spiral staircase.”

  “I'd like that.”

  He looked so sweet, and so surprised. How could he be so surprised? He'd walked into my loft, where we were alone together. He should have asked to meet me in public if he didn't want me to show so much … interest. I returned to licking and sucking on his nipples. He moaned, and seemed to be enjoying the diversion, so I added my hand on his crotch, massaging the thickening rod inside his jeans.

  He reached around me and grabbed my pussy from behind. His boldness startled me, but I liked it.

  After a few minutes of grabbing each other through our clothes, I pulled back and said, “I can't remember if I've ever given you a full tour of the loft.”

  He smiled and played along, saying, “I definitely haven't seen where you sleep.”