by Jess Bentley
“The hell does that mean?”
“I’m sorry... It’s just… I’ve never seen you in anything but jeans and a bandanna, you know what I mean?”
She purses her lips, nodding as she peers past me into the house. “Yeah, I clean up real good. Is Penny around?”
“Yes, please. Come in.”
“Wanda!” I hear as Ethan tears across the living room with his arms out. He captures her in a full tackle, barely moving her at all. That is a strong woman. Stronger than she looks, even.
“Hey there, little monster,” she coos, burying her nose in his hair.
He holds her tight, grinning with his eyes closed. It’s really sweet.
I still sort of in awe that this is even happening and just try to make myself useful, collecting wine from the cellar and getting Ethan to help me set the table. The women chatter in that rapidfire way that they do, finishing each other’s sentences and delivering only the punchlines of their shared jokes. Most of it goes over my head, but I can still feel the affection in the air. It’s like its own atmosphere, filling the room.
“Okay, so tell me again?” Penny smirks, lifting the giant sauté pan up to pour the contents into a serving bowl. “It’s Elsie? Right?”
Billows of steam cloud the air in front of her, frizzing her hair up just around her ears, glossing her collarbones.
“Elise,” Wanda corrects her with a secret smile as she takes the serving bowl and pivots to place it on the table.
“Wait, what was that?” Penny intervenes. “Was that a smirk? Are you thinking about this woman and smirking?”
Wanda just shrugs and picks a cherry tomato off the top of the pile of food in the bowl.
“Is smirking good?” Penny persists as she makes her way around to the dining room table. I try not to listen in too closely and keep myself busy opening wine.
“Come on, spill it! Where did you meet her? What is she like? What does she do? Is she from here?”
Wanda holds her hands up, laughing as she sits down and enthusiastically begins serving herself. “Okay, okay, okay! I promise I will tell you everything just as soon as I know, okay?”
“You don’t know where she’s from?” Ethan interrupts, prompting a laugh from both women.
“We’ve only had one date, sweetie,” Wanda explains gently. “I try not to demand a complete autobiography on the first date, you know what I mean?”
Though I am fairly certain that Ethan does not know what she means, because he doesn’t have any dating experience at all, he still nods sagely.
“But I could tell right away. It’s a connection,” Wanda shrugs demurely.
It’s funny to see her batting her eyes and blushing. You would never know that just earlier today she hung a ceiling’s worth of drywall by herself.
“And where did you meet this fairytale princess?” Penny asks sweetly before tucking in to an impressive portion of food on her plate.
“Actually… Tinder,” Wanda mutters.
Penny raises her eyebrows. “Excuse me? You did what now?”
“I know, I know, I know. But it’s not as bad as I thought, okay? I figure, I’m a normal person and I am on there. So I figured there must be other normal people like me, right?”
“Wow, I am amazed!” Penny gasps.
“What’s so amazing about that?” I ask, more curious than I probably should be. “You never tried it? What about eHarmony or Match or something like that?”
“Me? What? No.” Penny shakes her head. “I would be afraid of the kind of guy I would find. Just some stranger? And with Ethan to consider? Just, no.”
Wanda and I exchange a look of understanding. I guess that makes sense. I hadn’t thought about that angle. Penny never had any trouble finding men to date, but she was always sort of cautious. She always asked around, even going so far as to buddy up with the guys’ ex-girlfriends. Her mother had some rough experiences dating, and Penny was more careful because of it. Even with that, jerks got through.
“What about you, Clay?” Wanda winks at me over the top of her wine. “Are you a swipe right kind of guy?”
I swallow carefully, buying a little time to craft an answer that will get me in no trouble with Penny or Ethan or Wanda—or any combination of those people.
“I’ve tried it, but as you can see, I wasn’t really successful, or we wouldn’t all be having dinner together tonight.”
Wanda nods meaningfully at Penny, her eyes comically wide. “Oh, that was a good answer, wasn’t it?”
Feeling like I dodged a bullet, I just continue eating. The food is delicious. It still cracks me up that she has been sandbagging this entire time, letting me make her dinner every night. Still, it has been fun.
“Well… I really need to be going,” Wanda announces, pushing herself back from the table before taking her plate to the sink.
“Have a good time!” Ethan suggests, again acting years beyond his age.
Penny sees Wanda to the door, and Ethan excuses himself to go back to the game room. He has been trying to teach himself ping-pong tricks, with one half of the table in a vertical position. It’s become a bit of an obsession.
“Thank you so much for dinner,” I smile, careful to keep any trace of sarcasm out of my voice. “It was really delicious.”
Penny stops for a moment with dirty plates in her hands, checking me over momentarily before apparently deciding that my comments were sincere.
“I am very glad that you liked it. You can go back to cooking, if you like.”
Actually I enjoy cooking for you, I think but do not say.
I help get the dishes off the table and over to the counter, though I keep an eye on her. Something is on her mind, I can tell. She keeps averting her eyes.
“You know, you could,” she says suddenly, looking up at me with a startled expression. “Date, I mean. Like, Tinder or whatever.”
Again I feel that damn smirk crossing my face. But what am I supposed to do when she’s so fucking adorable?
“Thanks for that,” I mumble. “Maybe later. Right now it doesn’t really interest me.”
She seems to accept the answer and rinses a few dishes, but then shifts toward me again and I can tell we’re not done talking about it yet.
“But, you know, if we are platonic… You probably have, uh, needs or whatever. I don’t want you to lose your social life because of me. That would be terrible.”
I glance around the living room and dining room, sort of confused by her words.
“Isn’t this our social life? Didn’t we just have a instant dinner party?”
She sighs impatiently. “Come on. You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know if I do know what you mean,” I answer, gathering up wine glasses. “You want me to find some slightly less interesting conversations via Tinder and go have those? What if I’m happy where I am?”
“Are you?” she asks me suddenly. “Are you happy where you are? Don’t you have greater needs than this?”
Walking around the other side of the kitchen island to put the wine glasses into the dishwasher, I allow myself to almost brush against her.
“Well, don’t you?” I counter.
I see her grab one corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. She shrugs slightly.
“So, what if we, um,” she begins, tracing a circle of moisture on the granite counter, “you know, explored some of those… Benefits.”
I reach across her to pluck a dishtowel off the ledge, so close to her I can feel her heat.
“Benefits?”
She’s getting a little frustrated with my teasing, I can tell, but I like watching her face change with every emotion. I like it that I know her so well, that I know her buttons.
“Benefits,” she finally declares, turning around to look at me directly, suddenly rendering me helpless.
“Okay, tell me more,” I begin carefully. “Because I don’t want to have any confusion. I don’t want us to be getting in each other’s way, you know what I mean? I feel like life around
here is pretty good, don’t you?”
“I feel like we are adults who can handle a little physical interaction from time to time,” she counters, shifting her weight to her other side.
I have to admit, I love the way her body has changed. I love the handfuls of her.
“We can go slow,” I suggest reasonably.
Her eyes dip, tracing from my knees to my shoulders, giving me the thrilling sensation that I’m getting a body scan.
“Sure,” she agrees. “We can go slow.”
But it’s just too easy. My hand slides underneath that round ass, lifting her in one motion as she wraps her thighs around my hips. Already I am rock-hard and dripping as I rush her across the living room toward the stairs. I would fuck her on the countertop if I didn’t have Ethan in the back of my mind. Maybe he will go to summer camp or something.
Her lips are so soft. I can’t get enough of them. I roll her bottom lip between my teeth, careful not to bite too hard. She lets me suck her tongue into my mouth, moaning breathlessly as my fingers slide between her pussy lips, spreading her open so I can feel the slick channel there.
When we get to my room, she pushes away with her palms on my chest, directing me toward the leather armchair by the window. She falls to her knees between my feet with a sly smile on those sweet lips.
Flipping her hair over one shoulder, I watch in awe as she slides my pants over my hips, her eyes widening when my cock bounces free. She takes the base in her fingers, ringing it tightly, making it unbearably hard as her pink, shining tongue darts over the head. My fingers dig into the armrests and I try to keep from groaning too loud. I want to come right now, to cover her face in my jizz, but I don’t want it to be over yet.
Her lips stretch over the head of my cock and she sucks me again, her cheeks caved in, her nostrils flaring as she takes a deep breath and throats my throbbing dick. I could feel her swallowing me, and it’s almost too much.
“Okay, you have to stop,” I grunt urgently. “Turn over. Get on your knees.”
She gasps a little when I order her around, her expression eager and pliant. I love it that she trusts me to boss her this way.
Flipping that hair again over the other shoulder, she looks back at me as I nudge her knees apart and spread open her ass cheeks, licking her from her clit all the way back to the dimples at the back of her spine. Every inch of her tastes like honey and I take time to enjoy her fully.
“I’m going to make you come so hard,” I whisper against her neck when I push up behind her, tempted to take her ass. I want all of her. I want every bit of her to be mine.
But right now, I want to make her explode. Her thighs tremble as I tease the head of my cock around her pussy, sliding through her wet lips, tapping the head against her pulsing pearl. I can tell by the way she trembles how much she wants me. I can hear it in her sighs. I know I can make her scream, just as soon as I can get her to open up a little bit further.
Reaching around to the front of her, I pinch her clit lightly and enter her pussy from behind at the same time. She’s tight all over again, bringing me to the brink of coming before I even get all the way inside her.
Her hips grind in circles as she opens up, pushing back against me while I suck on the back of her neck and flick her clit gently.
“Unnnnnnngghhhh,” she groans deeply with every thrust, each a little harder than the one before it, her knees coming up off the carpet.
It’s a race to get her off before I lose my load inside this perfect pussy. I don’t know why, but it’s almost impossible to control myself. I ram into her, pistoning hard and steady, working her clit a little too hard so I can get her there. When I feel her begin to gush and shudder, I know I only have to hold on for a few more seconds. She cries out, curling her toes and pushing up and I can finally slip out, just in time to shoot all over her creamy backside, watching the iridescent white smear dribble between her ass cheeks.
I fall to the floor and she falls on top of me, curling against my chest and breathing heavy. Her hair slides over my arm, gently stroking me with each breath.
“I guess those are benefits?” she jokes sleepily, brushing her toes against the top of my feet.
“I’m not really sure,” I shrug. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow to confirm?”
“You promise?” she says, grinning.
Chapter 18
Penny
I haven’t been dressed up in such a long time, it’s like I barely know what to do with myself. I didn’t bring all my clothes with me. I left a lot of the really flattering stuff back in Albany, after the reunion made it seem like any potential for romance in Beaumont was completely dead.
But now, faced with a night out with Wanda who will be dressed like she’s doing the Grammys’ red carpet or something, I’m stuck trying to put together a decent outfit and shoes from what I brought with me.
I figured the club will be half lit, and everybody looks good in black, plus I do have a nice pair of strapless black heels. Shimmying into the dress, I’m suddenly self-conscious. The neckline is a little dramatic for Illinois. It’s holding my boobs in place, but just barely. Anybody who got close enough to me would be able to see clear down to my belly button.
Then again, what else am I going to do? Everything else is tailored pantsuits and yoga pants, with a couple of decent pairs of jeans. If I wear jeans, Wanda will send me back to my room to get changed.
Rolling my eyes, I pile my hair on top of my head just to check. It looks okay. Not glamorous, but at least it looks like I tried.
I hear the doorbell and the sound of muffled voices. With just enough time to get on a layer of mascara and lip gloss, I give myself one last glance and then head out to meet my glamorous gal pal.
And she does not disappoint. Covered from shoulder to knee in violet sequins, Wanda looks like a movie star. Her hair is natural, framing her face like an angel. She wrinkles her nose affectionately when she sees me.
“Now, there’s the hottie I remember!” she coos.
Clay clenches his jaw and narrows his eyes slightly. Though I brace myself for another round of teasing, he only gives me a silent, tightlipped smile of approval.
“Nothing?” I say as I pause in front of him. “Not a word? Not a joke? Are you sure?”
He opens the door gallantly and makes a small bow.
“You ladies have a nice time,” he murmurs. “Call if you need a ride or whatever. You look… You both look beautiful.”
Strangely, I feel sort of awkward without my daily dose of teasing. I follow Wanda into the driveway as she casts me a questioning look.
“Are you guys sleeping together?”
I open my mouth to object, then close it again.
“Whatever, it’s none of my business,” she finishes in a hurry. “But if you’re not? You should be. That boy is smitten with you.”
I shake my head, scowling. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Smitten,” she repeats. “Smited. Smoted. Whatever the word is, he is it.”
“You’re imagining things,” I shrug as I start the car.
“Penny, he could not take his eyes off you. If his eyes had been little hands he would have been undressing you.”
“That’s kind of gross, Wanda. Eyes are not hands.”
“That’s what I’m saying,” she snaps as she flips down the visor to check her lipstick in the mirror. “He’s got it bad. Like, seriously bad. You should hook up with him.”
“Where is this place? Can you find it in the GPS?”
“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Wanda huffs, but she does it anyway.
I don’t know why, but I don’t really want to talk about this yet. I don’t really know what she is going to say. After all, she knew Clay as the one who got away. And now here we are, but it’s still not… real. It’s just hooking up.
Hot, sweaty, satisfying hooking up.
Rationally, I know that Wanda is the last person who would judge me for that, so I don’t know why I’m hesitant.
I should be happy! It’s done wonders for my skin and posture, that’s for sure.
The club is on the far side of campus, and as we drive up I can see why we didn’t know that it was lady-friendly. It looks like one of those old man bars, with a Pabst neon in the front window and bars on the door.
But as we walk up, I notice the bouncer is wearing really expensive jeans. The thud of a heavy base reverberates through the gravel-strewn alley next door.
“Are we waiting for her?” I ask in a low voice. I don’t know why, but I just feel like this is the sort of neighborhood where people don’t shout.
“She’s already inside,” Wanda answers, digging out her ID for the bouncer.
We are way past college age, so he just glances at our out-of-state identification and lets us pass. Once inside, we could be anywhere. New York, Illinois, probably every state in the union. It’s the same old vintage bar: wood paneling, pool tables, electronic darts. Vinyl barstools. Glittering racks of glassware.
My gaze sweeps the room, taking in the patrons. It’s almost entirely women, with a couple of elderly gentleman in their overcoats way at the end of the bar, hunched over their mugs. They don’t seem to be aware of what’s going on around them. Probably regulars.
But everyone else is dressed up. Tall hair, or no hair. Muscles, tattoos, or none. Lipstick or not. But friendly, reciprocal. They check us out as we check them out. I’m happy to see the welcoming smiles, the unspoken shaking of hands that says: we are all on the same side.
I see a hand waving us forward from a table in the center of the room. Wanda gestures that way, since the music is so loud as we pass the jukebox that I wouldn’t be up to hear her anyway.
The woman lowers her head and smiles at both of us. She’s a stocky redhead, with a charmingly old-fashioned bobbed haircut, the kind with bangs and curls. She wears heavy-rimmed tortoiseshell glasses and a large cocktail ring.
Holding out her hand, she smiles at me broadly, revealing a gap between her two front teeth. I decide I like her immediately as I shake her hand.
“I’m Elise!” she grins.
Wanda slides around to her side of the table and kisses her on the cheek, drawing back with an affectionate, bubbly smile. I can see it’s already happening. They are already falling for each other. The way they gaze at each other so happily, so excited just to be a mere twelve inches apart, tells the whole story.