Calling California

by J. P. Grider

  "Cali was asking what to call you. I told her Mary."

  "Of course, please. Mary, or even Ma. Whatever you're comfortable with." Mary places about a dozen delicious looking Italian pastries on a large crystal serving plate. "So what's Cali short for?"

  "Calista."

  "What a pretty name," Mary says, placing matching crystal dessert plates in front of Griffin and me.

  "Ma, really, we ate," Griffin tells her, but I nudge him with my elbow. He laughs. "Evidently, California here didn't eat enough."

  My face grows warm again, and this time not from him calling me California but from embarrassing me.

  "California?" Mary asks, pushing the large dessert plate closer to me.

  I choose the huge Napoleon. "Thank you. Griffin likes to call me California." I say this before running my finger along one layer of cream and sticking said finger in my mouth.

  Mary laughs and hands me a fork. "Are you from California?"

  "No."

  "No," Griffin says simultaneously. "When I first learned her name was Cali, I asked her if it was short for California." He looks at me and squeezes my Napoleon-filled cheek. "Her face turned so red that I had to keep calling her that."

  "Wow. Pet names and a commitment. Griffin, what's getting into you?"

  Now it's Griffin's turn to blush. "Even your mother knows you're a player?"

  Mary rolls her eyes and chuckles. "So tell me, Cali, where are you from?"

  Griffin's mother seems so down-to-earth that I don't even mind telling her I'm from Haledon.

  "Do you go to Hunter Hill too?" Mary puts three cups of espresso in front of us.

  "Oh, thank you."

  "You drink coffee, right?"

  "Yes." I pick up the petite mug and sip the black coffee. "Mmm. It's good."

  Jenna and Candy come in the kitchen and put their own pastries on a crystal plate, then leave the room. But not before Jenna gives me a knowing smirk. Griffin catches her. "Bitch," he mutters under his breath.

  "Sorry about her," Griffin says. "She and I don't exactly see eye to eye."

  Mary just shakes her head. Then leaning in, she says quietly, "Jenna looks up to Griffin, but since he doesn't give her the time of day, she seeks his attention by being annoying."

  "Yeah right," Griffin retorts.

  "I can see that," I tell Mary. "A lot of younger siblings don't care if it is negative or positive attention, just as long as they're receiving the attention."

  "You sound like you have younger siblings." Mary sips her espresso while waiting for my reply. She's genuinely interested in me and I think to myself, why in God's name did I have all these preconceived notions about rich people? How unfairly I feel my parents judged them.

  "No. Only child, but I'm majoring in Child Psychology. I've been reading books on it for years."

  "Really? That's very commendable of you. So you're an only child? What do your parents do?"

  "Mom," Griffin scolds.

  I look at him and shake my head. "It's fine." And it is fine. Mary makes me feel so comfortable that I'm not embarrassed at all. "My mom's a waitress and my dad's...well, retired."

  "Wow. Is he enjoying retirement?"

  "Um."

  "Mom."

  "It's fine, Griffin. Dad's got lung cancer." I swallow nothing before continuing. "He's dying."

  She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. "My goodness, honey, I'm so sorry." Her eyes don't leave mine. "Is there anything I can do? Does he have the proper doctors? A nurse? Maybe we can get him a second opinion?"

  Wow. And I can feel her sincerity.

  "Mom," Griffin again warns, "overkill."

  Mary lets go of my hand and apologizes.

  "Please don't apologize, Mary. Thank you for offering. I think it's a little late for a second opinion. He's had the cancer for four years now, but he does have a wonderful nurse and she's helping to make him as comfortable as possible."

  She nods. "Well the offer still stands. Anything you need, just ask."

  "Thank you," I say, hopefully sounding gracious and not bitter. Griffin’s mother really sounds sincere, and something in her voice tells me it’s not pity as much as concern.

  "More espresso?"

  "Oh, sure, if Griffin wants..."

  "Sure. One more though, then I have to get Cali home. She works in the morning."

  While Mary prepares another espresso, she asks, "Where do you work, honey?"

  "Chase. I'm a bank teller."

  "What a nice job. It’s a great way to learn banking while going to college too."

  "I agree. It helps."

  “Wanna see my room, Cal?” Griffin asks, while his mother is busy at the espresso machine.

  “Sure,” I say happily, excited to get a glimpse of the real Griffin.

  Like the rest of his house, his room is amazing. His flat screen television has to be, like, fifty inches. His bed is massive. “What does one person need a king-size bed for?” I ask, truly wondering, since he just told me he never brought one of his sex partners to his house.

  He pumps his eyebrows at me in that seductive way, and then he smiles. “It’s comfortable.” He plops down in the center of his bed and sprawls out on his back. “Look at all this room.” He moves to his side and pats the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

  I kick off my flats and lay down next to him.

  “See. Roomy,” he says, running his fingers down the length of my arm.

  Instead of responding, I look around his room, his fingers never stilling on my arm. He has so much stuff.

  “Like my room?” he asks, and though my eyes are all over the room, I can feel his eyes on me.

  “It’s great. You have, like, everything. That stereo – it looks like it belongs on stage.”

  “I like my music loud, what can I say. I have another one being delivered next week.”

  I sit up and look at him. “Another one? For God’s sake, you’ll blow the roof off your house.” And I’m being dead serious, the stereo system is already massive.

  “Not for this room, silly, for the college house.”

  “Griffin,” I say in an almost scolding manner, “you can just unplug this stereo,” I suggest, pointing to the system, “and move it to the other house. It’s not like you spend a lot of time here right now.”

  “Yeah,” he shrugs and sits up, his fingers find my back and he rubs. “But it’s a lot of work to unhook all the wires and…” Griffin stops mid-sentence and frowns.

  “I’m sorry, Griff. It’s not my business. Really, I think it’s great that you have the money to get the things you want. I didn’t mean to pass judgment. Again,” I say quietly. It is great for him, but I can’t help but feel that it’s so wasteful. But again, it’s his money. Not mine.

  We sit with his mother again for another half hour, and after our last sips of espresso, Griffin and I say goodbye to Mary and his sisters. "I hope my mom wasn't too overwhelming. She has a habit of being overbearing and all," he says on the ride home.

  "Not at all. She is wonderful. I love your mother. Really, Griffin. She is so nice."

  "Thank you. Yeah, she is nice, she just has a habit of being...over the top."

  "I'm so sorry, Griff. For..."

  He looks at me, momentarily taking his eyes off the road, "Sorry for what?"

  "For thinking all rich people were they way my parents painted them. Your mother was...just...I love her. I really do."

  "Well than I hope you'll love me just as much."

  I snap my head in his direction but say nothing. He starts biting his bottom lip, so I'm guessing he didn't really mean what he'd just said, so I let it go. But my insides are turning all gushy. Does he want me to love him? Does he love me? It's only been a week, could this relationship really move that fast?

  But could Griffin really change that fast?

  There is no conversation. The lyrics to Stairway to Heaven are the only words that grace the rest of the ride home. Instead of overthinking why, I close my eyes and
listen to the classic Led Zeppelin ballad, letting the legendary Robert Plant sing me into tranquility.

  I must have dozed off, because Griffin is holding open my car door again. "Oh my God, Griff, I'm so sorry. I..."

  He shuts the door behind me and takes my hand. "You're a busy woman, babe. You get tired."

  "Busy woman?" I laugh.

  "You know, working, studying," his smile starts to fade, "taking care of your dad."

  I stop on the top step and look down at him on the bottom step. "Is that pity I hear?" My smile holds a warning behind it.

  "It's not pity, Calista." He steps up one step and cups his hands around my waist. He kisses me on the forehead, which is now even with his lips. "It's awe. I told you that."

  I drape my forearms over his shoulders and kiss him on the chin. "No pity."

  "No pity."

  Lifting me up by the waist, he spins me around so that he's leaning against the stair railing and I'm leaning against his chest. Together we meet, via our lips. After several minutes of swirling tongues and roaming hands, Griffin breaks free first, resting his chin on my head. "I can't wait until tomorrow night, Calista," he whispers above my head, referring to our NYC trip that Mom said I could go on.

  Sighing into his neck, I whisper back. "Me neither."

  When we finally pull apart, Griffin groans, "You really have to fix that light, Calista. I don't like the idea of you walking in alone when I'm not here."

  I smile, because he called me Calista and he worries about me.

  "See you tomorrow, Griffin."

  "See you tomorrow, California."

  26

  Griffin

  Like two huge halogen headlights, Cali's charcoal eyes are wide and almost purple under Manhattan street lights. With her lips formed into a permanent smile, she reminds me of a child at Christmas. I hold my arms around her waist and let her lean her back against my chest, her head on my shoulder, so she can tip her head up and look at the height of the buildings. "I never imagined the city being this alive," she whispers.

  Leaning my cheek against her cheek, I thank her for letting me see the city again for the first time through her eyes.

  "You sure you don't want to hook up with Holly and them?" she asks, the back of her head still resting on my shoulder.

  My arms still wrapped around her waist, I bring my fingers up to her face and run a tip along her jawline. "Now why would I want to do that?"

  Her eyes are still cast on the sky, when she quietly says, "Well, it is Holly's place we're staying at."

  "She'll be partying all night, California." I kiss her cheek, my insides growing warm. "There are other things I'd rather do."

  Not sure whether it's the moonlight or the streetlights that cause it, but there's a gleam in Cali's eyes when she turns her head to look at me. Grabbing her lips with mine and whirling her around to face me, I smash her chest against mine, and though I want her to take in the sights of New York City, the better part of me wants to bring her back to Holly's place and make love to her. "Calista," I pant in-between kisses.

  "Hmmm?" she moans into my mouth.

  I break our kiss long enough to say, "I can't wait anymore," and my voice comes out deeper than usual.

  But when I return to our kiss, she doesn't kiss me back.

  She searches my eyes, then my lips, then my eyes, and finally, with half-lidded eyes of her own, she breathes, "Then let's not wait."

  With fire and determination, Cali and I practically run back to Holly's apartment in SoHo, and after checking the rooms to make sure we're alone, we head directly to the guest bedroom upstairs that Holly assigned us.

  "Oh my God, Calista. Are you sure?" I ask, shutting the door and standing still in front of it.

  "More than anything," she says, biting her lip and smiling.

  "We've only known each other just over a week," I remind her, silently kicking myself for doing so.

  "Then what are we waiting for?"

  Oh my God. In one smooth movement, I reach her, lift her, wrap her legs around my waist, and gently lower her to the bed, never disconnecting our bodies. Into her ear, I whisper, "You're one of those good girls, Calista. You're not just saying you’re ready just to please me, are you?"

  She pushes me back to hold me at arm's length. "I trust you, Griffin. I'm not afraid to give myself to you."

  I lower my forehead to hers and whisper, "Thank you for trusting me."

  As soon as her smile reaches her eyes, I hungrily join my lips with hers, tasting her sweet tongue and running mine along the edges of her teeth. With the tip of my tongue still outlining the inside of her mouth, my hands explore the skin beneath her shirt while I push myself in between her legs. As I slip my tongue out of her mouth, I press tiny kisses down her jaw, stopping at the soft spot beneath her ear. After circling the spot with my tongue, I continue delivering kisses down her neck, but the collar of her tie-dyed t-shirt prevents me from going further. Moving to my knees, I grab the hem of her shirt and lift it up. When she arches her back to allow me to pull it up and over her head, she presents me with a light pink satin push-up bra. I'm breathless. After spending several moments appreciating her body with my eyes only, I trace the outer edge of her bra with my forefinger, eventually fingering a trail down her stomach to the waistband of her skirt.

  Before I go further, I search her eyes for any hint of a second thought. When I see none, I slip both my hands beneath the waistband and slip her skirt down and off. My God, she has matching pink satin G-string panties. I tear my own shirt off, then slip my jeans and underwear down, grabbing the foil packet out of my pocket before letting them fall to the floor. I return to my kneeling position between her legs, and with my finger, I trace the outer edge of her pink G-strings, trailing my finger back up past her bra, to her neck, then her mouth. Lowering myself on top of Calista again, I touch her hairline with my lips and continue exploring the length of her with my mouth. Her nearly naked body beneath mine sends hot shivers right to my erection. In an effort to prolong our first time together, I push those feelings back and continue tasting her salty skin with my mouth, hoping to provide her with her own hot shivers that make her call out my name. When my mouth travels over the pink satin, I blow a long breath over the fabric between her thighs, and her body tenses. A soft moan escapes her lips as I press soft pecks down the skin inside her thighs. I continue past her knees, her ankles, her toes.

  With a gentle force, I use my hand to turn her onto her stomach and let my tongue graze the back of her other leg. When I circle the skin behind her knee, her moans get more intense. But when I approach the wet center of the pink satin again, I'm not sure which one of us groans louder.

  "Oh, Griffin," she howls at the same time I call out her name.

  "Calista," I say again, her name coming out as a grunt from somewhere deep inside me.

  I frantically fumble with her bra clasp, flip her over, and pull off her bra. Without waiting another millisecond, I bring my mouth to her puckered nipple and gently nip at it while swirling my tongue over its tip. With my fingertip, I run circular motions around her other nipple, and my thumb, pressed between her two breasts, feels her heart jumping beneath her chest. My erection pulses in rhythm with her heart beat and I can no longer keep myself from being inside her. Ripping open the packet I'd tossed on the bed, I quickly slide it on before pulling on the string of her panties and tearing the fabric right off. Her legs naturally rise and fold around my waist, and with no effort at all, as if my body were designed for the sole purpose of making love to Calista Parker, I slip inside her and lose myself in Heaven.

  27

  Cali

  "Oh God." Clenching Griffin's shoulders, a guttural wrawl escapes me when he first slips inside. I'm momentarily embarrassed by the cat-like sound that comes out of me, but I immediately forget that, as Griffin lunges himself in and then out, his tip caressing me before he drives forward again. "Oh. Oh my God..." It feels so good. So big. He enters slowly at first, but as our heart rat
es pick up, his thrusts come deeper and quicker as I rise up rhythmically to meet him. With each breath we take, an audible moan breaks loose from both of us. No longer can we hold it in. "God, Griffin. Oh my Go...Oh my Go..." I open my eyes to see him peering into mine. Smiling. Grinning. Gritting his teeth as he grinds into me. Quickly. Faster and faster. Until that moment. He groans. I howl. He thrusts far and deep. I reach up. Climbing. Rising to meet his last thrust. Before he falls on top of me. And I drop back into the mattress. My breathing loud. His breath louder.

  "Oh my God, Calista. Uh..." he groans one last time before kissing my neck and dropping his head to the pillow beneath me.

  We lay there wordlessly. Our breaths speaking for us. Our heartbeats, together, finding a calming rhythm. Just as our breathing quiets, Griffin falls to my side and holds me. I can't wipe the smile off my face. His fingers, like a butterfly's wing sweeping across my skin, brush my cheek, my neck, my shoulder. "You are so beautiful, Calista," he whispers, his voice deep, his eyes intense, his body satiated. "So fucking gorgeous," the last words out of his mouth before his eyes close and his breathing deepens.

  My own eyes close, but not before reveling in the fact that I just made love for the very first time. A virgin I was not, but my sexual experience before Griffin was emotionally indifferent - no passion, no desire, not even a real physical fondness for each other. But with Griffin...my entire world has changed. I found a place where I belong. My father's illness aside, I am now happy and content. Griffin is the piece of me that was missing all these years. And though it has only been a mere week since I have known him, I feel myself falling deeply in love with him.

  I wake to another sweeping touch of a butterfly wing. The tip of Griffin's finger as he lightly runs it along the side of my face sends me into a drowsy trance. His touch is gentle and soft, though the thick scruff on his face makes him look anything but.

  "Sorry I fell asleep," he rasps, his voice groggy with morning, his eyes lidded and sexy.