by Zoey Long
“That’s good, baby. You’re so tight. Such a tight little pussy. I want to turn you over and get a good view of that gorgeous ass.”
I turn and put my hands flat on the wooden exercise bench. My triceps engage, forearms turn out. My arms are accustomed to daily exercises of downward-facing dog. I’m bending over in front of him, wearing nothing but a sports bra, my pants and panties down in a pile on the floor in front of me. He can see everything and I don’t care. Right now, my pussy is his for the taking. I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’ve never been so drawn to someone so intensely and quickly in my life, and my God, that cock. I’ll never see him again. Never come back to NY JiuJitsu. I’ll just finish the year and go back home to New Jersey for the summer.
He starts fucking me from behind, gently at first, then harder, holding on to my hips. I feel my pussy start to clench around him. I push myself back onto his cock with total abandon and close my eyes. My hair is falling around my face and all I can feel is that huge cock filling me up. I’m not even scared that someone will walk in. It’s just me and him, sweating, moaning, and slamming flesh on flesh.
“God, yes. That’s so good. You feel so good.” He slaps my ass. Not too hard, just once.
I hold myself up as he keeps fucking me. He braces himself with a hand on my lower back.
“Touch your pussy.”
“What?” I say breathlessly, looking over my shoulder at his face.
“I want you to touch your pussy like you did in the shower yesterday. I know you were thinking about me. Make yourself come.” He thrusts. “Come on my cock.”
Most guys don’t care if I come or not. They assume that they can just plow me and that’s good enough. Let’s not even talk about returning oral sex. Who the hell is this guy? He must have fucked every woman on the Upper East Side.
I start rubbing my clit in circles and he picks up the pace.
“Oh God…yes. Please. Yes.” I rub myself faster as he’s fucking me and I start to feel an orgasm building as he keeps slamming me from behind.
“I…I think…” I keep rubbing and I can feel it about to peak.
“Yes, come for me, baby. Come on my cock.”
“Please don’t stop. I’m gonna…”
“Oh, I won’t stop.”
I grab the sides of the bench so hard I dig my nails into the grain as I start to come.
“There it is, that’s right. Come for me, baby.”
I come all over his cock and I feel it surge all the way from the top of my head to the tip of my toes. He doesn’t stop when I’m done. I’m breathless and hold on for the ride.
“My turn,” he says as he’s slamming me. He slams me harder and harder while pulling my hair. I want him to come. I want him to feel as good as I just did. I don’t care where he does it. I want it all. Suddenly I feel him pull out of me, and the warmth of his come shoots all over my back.
“Holy shit, baby. I knew you were nasty.” He gets a towel and cleans me up.
I can’t look him in the eye. I’m flushed and wet, my hair all over the place.
“I’m gonna hit the shower,” he says. I stand up and he kisses me. Now I look into his face.
“That was…” I begin.
“Fucking amazing? Yeah, that was fucking amazing.” He smiles.
“I never do that.”
“Honey, I don’t care what you do or don’t do. No judgment. But for the record, that was awesome.”
“Thanks.”
He laughs. Maybe he’s not so bad after all. Maybe he’s the fuck of the century.
“So, I’ll see you here tomorrow morning? That does a way better job of waking me up than a morning run. Shit, you’re better than a shot of espresso.”
I can’t. There’s that attitude again.
“No, I am not your personal… fuck toy.”
“You could be.” He smirks again and puts his shorts back on.
That’s it. I’m out of here. I get dressed and grab my shit out of the locker. It’s nearly six a.m., and people are starting to fill up the gym,. A blonde woman in yoga gear comes into the room and shoots Derrick a look.
“I was just leaving,” he says. “I need a shower.”
I run out of the room and pass Derrick without looking at him. Some fights have begun in the main room, ripped guys rolling around, trying to pin each other.
“Bye-bye! See you soon,” Fawn Boy yells after me as I pass the front desk and get to the street.
No, you won’t.
That was possibly the best sex I’ve ever had in my life and it was with a complete stranger. What was I thinking? I hardly ever come during sex. Most guys aren’t even interested in finding out what gets me off. If they are, it’s usually because we’ve been dating a while. Derrick, asshole that he is, a guy I met once, was gentle and rough at the same time, and wanted me to get myself off before he got off. It was taboo to have sex in public like that; it was crazy, and totally hot. Then he went right back to being a complete jerk. My phone beeps in my bag. My mom called.
That’s what I need. Something to jolt me back to reality. I call her back.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetheart! Oh, it’s so nice to hear your voice! I’m glad you called and didn’t just text.”
Right, because I never call, and blah blah blah.
“Hi, Mom, what’s up? You called?”
“Yes! Are we still on for lunch today?”
Shit, I forgot. It’s Friday. My mom and I have lunch or dinner in the city every Friday before she goes back to Jersey. She’s an art teacher at a public school and has the summers off with me. The school year is almost over; next week I’m packing up my stuff and moving home.
“Yep. Mike’s Pizza over on Lexington? I’ll see you there at—”
“No, honey. Not Mike’s Pizza.”
“Mom, we always go to Mike’s. What’s up, what happened? Who died?”
She laughs. She sounds bubblier than I’ve heard her in a while. I can basically hear her smiling through the phone.
“I thought we could meet somewhere new for a change. We never go anywhere different, and sure, New York pizza is great, but there are obviously so many amazing restaurants to try here! I was watching this food show last night, and right near your job on the Upper East Side alone, there are…”
She sounds nuts. We can’t afford any of that. I’m on work study as it is. The only reason I am even able to go to NYU is because my grandfather, a man who has always been a big mystery to my whole family, died and left me money in a trust that I can only use for educational purposes. That’s fine with me. I’m getting a great education and am very grateful. I’ll probably end up a teacher too, and as long as I can keep creating in my free time I’ll be happy.
“I want you to meet me at this place. It’s called Aisling. It’s on Seventy-Third and… I have it written down.” I can hear her fumbling through her bag.
“Seventy-Third and Lexington. I know where it is. I pass it all the time. Mom, do you know how much that place costs? I think they have a Michelin star.”
“Oh, how lovely is that! That’s very exciting.”
“Mom, we can’t afford—”
“Honey, just meet me there. It’s fine. Trust me. Two p.m.? See you later. I miss you, I’m so glad I get to see you! I love you! Oh, and wear a skirt or something? Dress up a bit. I’m so excited! Take a look at their menu if you get a chance. It looks incredible.” She hangs up.
What the hell is my mother thinking? We cannot afford Aisling. I’ve passed it many times on my way to Madison Ave Preschool. It’s this up-and-coming New American-type place that’s always featured on television and during restaurant week. The chef was just on the cover of New York Eats, for God’s sake. A few of my students’ mothers are always talking about that menu. How it’s all local and organic, they have biodynamic wines, all kinds of things. Whatever. This is exactly the distraction I need. I’ll wear my nice dress and put my
hair up. Maybe my mother sold one of her old paintings or won the lottery or pawned my grandmother’s jewelry, I have no idea.
Chapter 5: Derrick
Fuck me. I could tell that girl was a secret sex fiend, but my God. I thought we’d just make out a little, maybe a little blow job in the locker room if she was into it, which is totally hot. When it’s good like today, though, I run with it. She even liked it when I slapped her ass and shot my load on her back. I took a chance by telling her I heard her masturbating in the shower. She could have slapped me. Other girls have in similar situations. But she didn’t.
The things I would do to that girl.
My phone dings.
“Hello, Derrick.”
“Hi, Frank.”
“I hate when you call me Frank. Please call me Dad. There’s no one else who can call me Dad. You know that. I think you do that to upset me. No matter, I hope you’re well. Still working out every day?” My father’s tone is proper and sounds like he has a stick up his ass. Which is true.
“Yeah, Dad, you know I work out every day.”
He must have a new girlfriend. The only time my father calls me is when he has a new girlfriend.
“Son, there’s someone very special I want you to meet. Are you free this afternoon, by any chance? I’d like you to meet us for lunch. It would mean a lot to me if you were free.”
“Of course there is. Aisling?”
Dad always takes the new girls to Aisling. At least, he is this year. Aisling is the number one restaurant to go to right now. Last year he took them to whatever other up-and-coming Michelin-starred restaurant was featured in New York Eats. Not if they’re in Brooklyn, though. Frank’s old school. Never Brooklyn.
“Yes. And you can stop it with that tone. It’s different with this lady. She’s very special to me. I want you to be serious. She’s unlike any woman I’ve seen before. She’s an artist. Well, she teaches art. She’s not a kid, either so you can just stop it if that’s what you’re thinking. She has a daughter around your age.”
This is different. Every girlfriend has always been “unlike any other he’s seen before,” but they’re all blonde, blue-eyed, tan, Upper East Side Manhattan divorcees who live in the gym. Upper West if he’s feeling creative.
“She’s an artist, huh? Why don’t you just feature a collection of hers in the museum and be done with it?” I tease.
“It’s not like that. And I don’t appreciate your tone. Please, just meet me there at two.”
I’m intrigued. Dad’s dating a teacher. How’d he even meet this broad? My father is Frank Bourse. Yes, that Bourse. My family owns the Bourse Museum. He’s dated young artists before, but not since I was a kid. Wide-eyed twenty-three-year-olds who just wanted him to put them through school. They’d end up leaving him for the first young Wall Street trader type they met in the city. He’s only made that mistake twice.
Okay, Dad. I’ll play ball. I’ll put on my summer suit and boat shoes, comb my hair, cover my tattoos and be perfectly charming. I’ll sit across from you and make small talk with your lady while you pound scotch. I’ll only check out her ass when you’re not looking. I’ll drink highballs with her and pretend like you’re soulmates and like she has interesting things to say. I’ll pretend to be interested in how you two lovebirds got together and how much she loves museums, especially ours, but wishes she could get out to cultural events more often. Even though she doesn’t work. And of course I’ll listen as you tell me all about your summer plans.
This is why I don’t do relationships.
Chapter 6: Madison
Ugh, nothing fits right. I took a shower when I got back to my dorm and tried not to think about what happened this morning. Not working out very well. I thumb through my closet and try and find something fancy enough for Aisling, but nothing seems right. I can’t wear a sundress, I don’t even know if this place demands that you wear a jacket. Do I need to wear a suit? No. I think the rules for women are a little more lax. It’s lunch, after all. I can’t see some of the mothers from Madison Preschool wearing a blazer every time they go out to eat. It’s near summer, they’re showing as much of their perfectly toned, nipped and tucked bodies as possible. I take out the cobalt cocktail dress my mom bought me for my twenty-first birthday this year. It’s tasteful, a little sexy. Hugs my curves nicely, and the V-neck shows cleavage, but not too much.
I pick a pair of silver T-strap heels and a bracelet in a contrasting color that will pop and I smack on some lipstick. I’ve already started packing to go home for the summer, so a lot of my things are in boxes. I have some paintings taken down off the walls, most of which are mine. Mom’s supposed to drive her truck to my dorm room next week and take me home. I’ll probably pick up my usual tutoring gigs when I get there.
I have no idea what’s going on with my mom or what she was so excited about. She hasn’t really dated much since she and my dad split, and that was just over five years ago. She dated a teacher at her school once but that didn’t work out very well. He wanted to get married again and she wasn’t ready for that. I head out the door.
As I come up to Aisling I swear I’m going to run into some of the kids from school. Most all of them come from wealthy backgrounds. Even Stephanie from work, her dad’s a litigator and her mother is a psychotherapist. She’s gone to private schools her whole life.
The modelesque hostess is wearing gigantic stilettos and a silk dress. She takes my name and kindly directs me to my mother’s table. I see my mother is wearing a simple white dress and heels, but I can tell she put in way more effort than she usually does. The guy sitting next to her is obviously moneyed. He’s in a gorgeous lightweight suit. They’re canoodling. That’s the only word for it.
“Madison! There’s my girl!” My mother’s face lights up when she sees me and comes in for a hug.
“Hi… Mom. You look nice. Who is this?”
“Madison, please sit down first. Then I’ll tell you!” She laughs nervously. I must look like a deer in headlights.
The man has dark wavy hair and a strong jaw. He’s handsome. He stands.
“Hello, Madison. I’m Frank Bourse. I’ve heard a lot about you.” He offers his hand. I shake it.
We all sit down and I grab the first waitress I see.
“Can I have vodka? A martini, please. A vodka martini.”
“Of course, miss. Do you have a preference on what kind of vodka?” She smiles.
“No.”
My mother is quick to explain.
“See, honey, Frank and I have been dating for a while. I met him at a cocktail party. A few months ago when we went out on our Friday night dinner date, I went to an event at the Bourse. You know how you’re always telling me to get out more. I was admiring their expressionist wing and Frank was there giving a talk. We got to chatting and—”
“I’m sorry, did you say your name was…Bourse?”
“Honey, don’t—”
“It’s fine, Amanda.” He chuckles. “Indeed I did. Frank Bourse.” He sits back to explain.
“I’m not always at the museum, obviously, but I was that night. I am really glad I was. Your mother is a brilliant woman.”
I am stunned. My drink comes in a flash and I try not to down it all in one gulp. I fail. My mother hardly ever gets out of the house. She spends her days teaching art to uninterested high school kids. Now she’s dating Frank fucking Bourse? I sit back and watch them. They’re holding hands and can’t keep their eyes off each other.
“There’s more,” my mother says. “But maybe we should order first.”
“More? I don’t want to order yet, just tell me.”
Frank Bourse takes a sip of his scotch rocks. I’ve seen this guy in the arts and leisure section of the newspaper. I’ve read about the history of the Bourse Museum at school. I’ve been visiting since I was a child. His suit probably costs more than what I paid for my last semester.
Just then I hear a familiar laugh behind me.
It soon becomes a familiar pair of eyes looking at me, a smile, and a smirk.
“No fucking way,” Derrick says, standing in front of me.
Frank stands. “Derrick, please watch your language. Take a seat and join us.”
Derrick sits down across from me and he’s smiling bigger than I’ve seen yet. My mouth must be agape. There aren’t enough martinis in the world for this. What is going on here? The waitress brings me another martini and walks off with my empty glass.
“Madison, this is Derrick Bourse. My son. Now, as I was saying, Madison. Your mother and I—”
“We’re married,” my mother finishes.
I spit out the first gulp of my new drink right toward Derrick’s face. A few drops hit his cheek and he doesn’t stop smiling.
Chapter 7: Derrick
Well, this is sure as shit a surprise. My summer just got a lot more interesting. Frank has gone and married the mother of the girl I was balls deep inside just twelve hours ago. I’ve been in some fucked-up situations before, but this is especially twisted. I’ve never had a stepsister before. I smirk. She was probably already my stepsister when we were banging this morning. I guess my gift does work on family after all. This is so fucked. I sit back and laugh to myself. Oh, man. Madison is so uncomfortable. It’s taking all she has for her not to pass out right now. She’s magenta. Hilarious.
“You’re… Mom… what?”
Madison is deliberately avoiding my gaze. No one has ordered food yet, which is fine for Frank, but she shouldn’t drink anymore. Maybe I should take my little sis home? Ha.
“I know it’s a shock, sweetie.” My new stepmother is trying to help the attendant, who is swiftly wiping the table and offering to replace the drink. Not necessary.
“Amanda, it’s okay. Leave it,” Frank says.
“Derrick, I’m so happy to meet you. I’m Amanda Dale. This is my daughter, Madison. I’ve heard a lot about you. You’re a fighter, yes? You fight?”
“Hello, ma’am. So nice to meet you too.” I extend my hand to hers and she takes it.