I type back. Hiring demo help isn’t cheating. I guess…because you are busy saving the world and stuff. I’ll be splitting my time between the office and the garage today. Call me if you need help. I hit send.
I had to borrow your bicycle. Well, I guess he would have to.
I tap back. Don’t break it, beast.
I’m getting into the shower. I tell him. Because it’s a fact. The secondary meaning to that statement rushes ahead and I wish I could take it back. I’m not a forward woman. Southern women are raised to be mild mannered and well behaved. Telling a man I’m naked and about to wash myself is bad form. Last night I broke about seventy-five rules for the southern lady, so I shouldn’t get red cheeked now. I make a mental reminder to talk to Shirley about the art of blow jobs, and get into the shower.
Memories from the night before trickle in and the warmth spreads across my body so quickly, I’m hot before my hair is even wet. He said it was perfect, but my stomach knots when I think about his huge shaft in my mouth. How is that supposed to fit inside me?
Taking the bottle of honeysuckle scented body wash from the shelf I pour some into my hands and lather them together before working them over my legs, arms, my neck—washing away his kisses. Then I let my fingers gently glide between my legs. I’m still sore from his fingers working me over and over. I’m still wet, more than ready, and it is doubtful that desire is going anywhere until he’s satiated me. Tentatively, I slip one fingertip into my slick entrance. “There’s no way it’s going to fit. No way,” I say out loud. Water and soapy bubbles cascade down my body as I try to perform fuzzy math. His dick is too big. Shaking my head I resolve to talk to Shirley about that, too. While one of my other friends, Malena perhaps, might have more delicate sex advice, Shirley is the only person I want knowing about my extracurricular activities. It’s my only fair chance of keeping my business off the town radar while still getting the knowledge I need.
Once I’m downstairs in the office sorting through paperwork and returning emails, the land line rings. I recognize her number right away.
“What took you so long to call me back,” I ask. “What if I was in trouble?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ease off the volume button, girl. I, ah, just got my phone back. I left it somewhere last night.”
Rolling my eyes, I wind the coiled cord around my finger. “Whose house was it last night, Shirl?”
“Caleb,” she says, sighing.
“Again? That’s the third time in one week. What’s going on between you two? I thought you weren’t interested in him in that way?”
“What way?”
“More than sex,” I reply.
She grunts. “Its good sex so it’s nice when I forget my phone. I can wake up and get a little action. Speaking of,” she says, her sentence trailing off. “You mentioned in the voicemail, you needed some advice. The only reason you’d want my advice is if it was something you don’t know about. Let’s face it. You know everything. Except for one area of inexperience. Did. You. Fuck. That. Beautiful. Man?”
Cringing, I debate talking to someone else, but she is right. She knows things I don’t. Things I need to know. “No!” I exclaim, cradling the phone between my ear and neck so I can pick up my chiming cell phone. “Maybe we should talk about this in person. We had dinner with my parents last night.”
“And what happened after?” She goes straight for the jugular. It’s exhausting.
“He invited me to go to New York City with him before his mission.”
“You bitch. I hate you,” Shirley crows. “When?”
I tell her the details I’m sure of and explain how my parents now approve of him. It kind of spills out and I know this is how rumors start, how the amazing things in one’s life turn into something awful and callous because it doesn’t exist in someone else’s, but I can’t help myself. Shirley eats up every single word. She asks about the Homer property and I tell her about the plans he has finalized and the work that’s being done as we speak.
“It seems everything is perfect for you, Caroline.” She emphasizes the word perfect because I told her what he said about me. For the most part she does seem happy for me, though I know what will happen next even if she is my best friend. Whatever Tahoe and I have won’t be ours anymore. It will belong to Bronze Bay.
I clear my throat. “Please don’t tell anyone, Shirl. We are taking things slow.”
Her eye roll can be heard through the phone line. “What did you have to ask me?”
Tahoe texts me again and I thumb a button to clear the screen. “Tell me how to give a proper blow job, Shirley. Don’t leave out any details. I mean, I think I did it right because he…came, but what are the rules? Are there rules? Swallow, spit? Standing, sitting, laying down? These are the things I need you to tell me and so help me, God, Shirley you better not make fun of me. I called you because I knew you would give it to me straight. No bullshit.”
Shirley’s laughter overshadows another small ping on my cell phone. I hit another button to try to clear the screen but it seems to have sent a message instead.
“Shirley,” I croak, reality setting in.
She pauses long enough to ask what else I want to know. “I just sent him a voice message.”
Her laughter rings out again, louder this time. “Everything I just said. Can I delete it before he opens it?” As I say it I notice the message says, Read underneath it. “Oh my gosh! This is worse than me asking for blow job advice to begin with. Now he knows I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Honey, chances are last night he knew you didn’t know what you were doing,” she replies. “Are you ready? I’m going to give you the rundown. Get a notepad and some paper, I have a shift in an hour.”
My cheeks redden and my stomach flips as I wait for his reply. “Ha-Ha. Don’t make jokes. Just tell me,” I say. No reply comes.
I’d never admit it to Shirley, but I do jot down notes as she rambles on about the finer nuances of sucking the male cock.
I don’t want to forget.
Chapter Thirteen
Tahoe
I’m jittery. Not from the pot of coffee I drank this morning while tearing out cabinets either. Caroline. Her laugh, her face, a snapshot of her body is on repeat in my mind. I can’t escape the memory from last night. Her body is indeed a fucking wonderland. A candy coated, sugar infused, soft, tight, morsel of sheer delight. I’ve never wanted anything or anybody more in my life. She accidentally sent me a voice message that I’m sure was meant for a friend. It confused me at first, because she gave good head. Then after I dissected the blow job and the things she said, I realized she may not have given many blow jobs in her past. Poor, sad, sorry ex-boyfriends of Caroline. I didn’t text her back for fear of embarrassing her, but my chest is puffed out a little more than it usually is today.
Last night truly was the best night of my life. If I close my eyes I can smell her arousal and that makes my cock stand like a goddamn soldier ready for battle. Right now, I’m wearing a shortie wetsuit and flippers, standing on a boat full of testosterone filled men waiting to drop in the water for a dive and that is not where I want him. It’s off the clock, we’re out here to have fun, spear fish, and bullshit. “I need to tell everyone something,” I call out, my voice loud. There are a few grunts and groans in acknowledgement, so I continue. “I’m in fucking love,” I yell.
There’s more groaning, and someone tells me to go fuck myself, but they aren’t going to wipe this smile off my face. Not by a long shot. “I need everyone to know this!”
“We know. We know. Your balls are in the vice. Got it,” Aidan barks. “Let’s get on with it now that it’s off your chest.”
I shake my head. “My balls are in the very soft hands of one, Caroline May,” I reply.
“Someone slice his air hoses the next time he dives. He doesn’t deserve oxygen,” someone says to my back.
Chuckling, I throw my hands out wide. “All you assholes don’t know what you’re missing. I’m
telling you.”
Aidan sighs. “Tell us then. What are we missing? As far as I can tell, you’re stuck with one pussy and you become a slave to a schedule. Neither of those things sound appealing, bro. Neither.”
For a moment or two I stay silent, trying to concoct a reason they’d accept, or not shut down immediately, but I realize nothing I say will sway them. You have to live inside of this feeling to understand how it exists. Stella never gave me this feeling. She was a comfortable safety net capable of making me think she was irreplaceable. To think people confuse that for love on a daily basis is terrifying.
“You’re missing everything,” I say, turning to face my friend. The companionship. The trust. The conversation. The way you view a person after you’ve fallen.
Leif clears his throat, and pats me on the shoulder. “You’re delusional. When you fall from grace, again, I’ll be here for you, man.”
“She’s it for me.”
His eyes narrow. “What does that mean exactly?”
“Yeah, man. We gonna’ be suiting up for a wedding then?”
I gulp. That word takes me aback. Like it always does and probably always will. I’m married to the Navy. That’s the first priority, it has to be. I don’t know any other way. How can I do both things perfectly? It’s an impossibility. Isn’t it? The scales will always be tipped in one direction.
They pick up on my silence and go in for the kill. “That’s what we thought.”
“She’s different,” I explain. “More.”
Leif crosses his arms across his chest. “Not different enough, though. We are your family,” he says. “Women come and go, but we’ve always been here for you. Go ahead and get hard-dicked over her, just don’t be crazy. Bros before hoes, Tahoe. Teams before seams.” Aidan grins at the crude joke. A phrase I used to live by and accept. With Caroline, it seems offensive and dirty to associate her as that. I wave them off, playing at nonchalance. I should have kept my mouth shut, shouldn’t have given them anything to hound me over, but I can’t shake her. It’s the truth. I am in love with Caroline May. Irreparably so.
Clearing my throat, I step up to the edge of the boat with an image of Caroline circling inside my mind. It took a lot of praying and internal pep talks with myself to keep from fucking her last night when she all but begged me for it. At this point, I know we are going to. It is just the matter of keeping it on my terms. Making it special for her. Forcing perfection in the one area of my life I have full control over. Few understand my wild quirks, but those that do, don’t question them. New York City. That’s when it’s going to happen. I’ll take her to a nice dinner, get my hands on tickets to see a show, and then a romance infused, passionate night at the luxury hotel I have booked. I’ve rehearsed it in my head since the second my eyes popped open this morning. A solid plan was never made without preparation.
Leif nods at me, still grinning from besting me, or assuming he bested me. Instead of replying, I set my mask in place and drop into the deep ocean waters.
They think they know me so well. They don’t know everything. Sure, some of these guys know my parents and have seen me through the ups and downs of my life, but for others it’s a surface understanding, an assumption of character based on those around me. The bad part about all of this is that I care what they think.
I kick in the water, following the guy in front of me, checking my surroundings to make sure everything is copasetic, and I get even more irritated. I might be in love with Caroline, but these guys are my brothers and they’re important to me. Respecting their thoughts, or at least giving them more than quick consideration is the very least I can do.
I branch off and swim in the opposite direction. Usually when we’re doing a legit dive it’s under the cover of night, only the phosphorescence lighting the pitch black waters. I dive down deeper, deeper than I know I should without equipment, because why the fuck not? I watch the bottom of the boat to gauge my depth and kick faster toward the bottom of the ocean. I look at my watch and the boat and I know I’ve cracked my depth record, or at least tied it. The second I get to that point—my lungs screaming out in protest, I kick toward the surface, my flippers speeding me along. I’m about halfway up when I realize my mistake.
I’m huffing and puffing when I rise out of the water, tearing the mask off as quickly as possible. I stroke over to the boat with my mask in one hand, slowing me down. Hoisting myself into the boat, I shake my hair like a dog. “Have a nice swim?” Aidan croons.
“Dude, look at my eyes,” I say, rubbing at them.
He starts laughing and I know I’m fucked. With a capital, hellraising F. “Fuck,” I mutter, grabbing a towel to dry off. “Mask squeeze. So stupid.”
“You didn’t equalize pressure before you decided to be a cocky idiot,” he says. “In a few days you’ll look like Satan himself. Just in time for the mission. The bad guys will think the devil came to kill them in person.” He’s grabbing his stomach in hysterics. Others have joined in now that my stupid mistake is on display. We don’t fuck up often, but when we do, it goes down in a book for recollection at any given point, for the rest of time.
By not clearing my mask pressure, I gave myself a hickey, on the whites of my eyes. It will turn a dark red shade and be noticeable for weeks, sometimes even months. My friend Ben did it during a dive once, and the whites of his eyes were fucked up for a family reunion. His Grandma wouldn’t hug him.
Leif rises out of the water with a fish spear in one hand. He looks like Triton. “Did I hear Tahoe got a mask squeeze? That can’t be right. Love hasn’t made him that stupid.”
It’s mild right now, but I can feel it. I know the blood will rush to the surface over the next few days, getting worse and worse until I look like a Berserker. It wouldn’t be so bad if the rest of my body didn’t match that description. Too bad it’s not Halloween.
“Does anyone have a mirror? A cell phone? Let me see it.”
Someone rustles up a cell from a dry bag and hands it to me. I turn on the camera and face it toward me. “Goddammit,” I mutter. “This isn’t good. Anyone remember how long Ben’s was?”
Everyone is telling stories about friends they know who have gotten mask squeezes and it makes me feel a little better, but then a thought hits me.
“Caroline.”
Leif cackles. “I bet she likes fucking a demon.”
They still don’t know I haven’t had sex with her. I’d catch a rash of shit if they knew I was professing my love before I’ve sampled the goods.
“Role play,” Aidan chimes in.
“She could be an angel. A white little nightie. Think of the possibilities,” he explains, holding one hand over his heart.
“Stop thinking about Caroline,” I mutter. “How long?” I ask, pulling up Google on the cell phone, and tapping my question into the search bar. “Maybe it’s just a little one,” I pep talk myself. A barrage of horrible, scary images glare back after my search all I can do is shake my head. With my light blue eyes, it might look a little less atrocious than if I had brown, because then the whole eyeball would look black, the iris blending with the blood shot white.
Leif stops laughing long enough to call my name. When I look up, he snaps a photo with his phone. “This is your right after it happened photo. We’ll take one every day until your whole eye looks like a hickey.”
I make a grab for his phone, but he’s too quick. “You guys are the worst friends ever,” I say.
“She’s going to be scared of this. Any normal person would be.”
Leif claps back. “Okay, Ben just texted back and said the one he got off the coast of Catalina Island lasted seven weeks. He also said to call him. He hasn’t heard from you in a while.”
Scrubbing my palms into my eye sockets I try to remember how many pairs of sunglasses I have.
Aidan walks over and puts a hand on my shoulder. “No one will notice.”
Such a fucking bullshit artist. “Fuck you, Aidan.”
Aidan’s eyes lig
ht up as he remembers something. “Oh, while I have everyone’s attention, or while Tahoe has everyone’s attention I’d like announce that we will be attending the local party at the spot tomorrow night. This will serve as the before mission celebration so tie on your mother fucking drinking shoes.” Everyone lets out a cheer in agreement. There’s always a shit-show of a party before a mission. The last hurrah. The importance of comraderie and brotherhood wrapped into a liquor festooned vomit session. It started when the war did because the unknowns are larger than the knowns these days.
“How did you manage that? Did they invite us?” Even I don’t believe that. Aidan probably threatened someone. The animosity aimed our way from the locals isn’t a secret. It’s not supposed to be. They honestly thought they could get the town hall to stop us from moving forward with plans for our base. While it was laughable, we’ve learned that a little respect goes a long way.
Aidan tells us he made friends with someone who was helping at the airport and he invited him, and that is basically the same thing as inviting all of us. Everyone agrees it’s a good idea merely from the standpoint of checking out the party place heralded as the most fun in Bronze Bay. I get a little excited at the prospect of letting loose. It’s been a long, concentrated month with all of my efforts zoned in on one thing.
Keeping It: A Navy SEAL meets Virgin Romance Page 15