by Zoey Long
Dave leads me across the lot to the abandoned building. He’s got what my dad calls “a good head of hair.” Frank is just upset that he’s balding. Wind catches his hair and blows it all over his head by the time we get to the front door. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear Dave was a teenager.
There’s no sign out front indicating that the building is on the market, but Dave’s uncle or brother or some shit is a broker and knows this place has been on the market forever. I can see why.
The staircase up to the front door is concrete and a bit shoddy. No railings. Once we get inside, I see that the space is mostly concrete from top to bottom. The sets of windows are narrow and rectangular, placed directly into cutouts in the concrete walls. There’s one exposed brick wall and the ceiling is covered in exposed beams. They need some care, obviously, but honestly, add some industrial-style lighting fixtures and I could be in a cafe in North Brooklyn. I laugh. It’s perfect.
Dave is waiting expectantly for my reaction. He can’t get anything off the ground financially without my help and we both know it.
“Dude, it’s great. I love it.”
Dave claps his hands together and starts fist-pumping.
“Awesome! I knew you’d love it, man. Look at all this space. We could really make it incredible. It won’t be easy, but we hire the right people, and the two of us, I’m telling you, we could have a following.”
I run my hands along the brick wall and it comes away incredibly dusty. It’s basically a raw space. We could have several fighting pits, cages for shows; we could charge admission, teach lessons, all of the above. My heart starts beating faster with excitement.
“It needs a lot of work. And I don’t know about you, but I am not going to do all of this work myself. It’ll take forever, and who has that kind of time? I’d like it to be up and running as soon as possible, you know?”
Dave nods slowly, unsure.
“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” he offers.
“But…man, you know I can’t afford—”
“Well, that makes you a lucky son of a bitch, then, doesn’t it?” I say, punching him in the arm.
I head back to the UES with renewed energy. If I can convince Frank to release part of my trust, I can buy this place outright. I have almost enough right now to buy it on my own. I start jogging the last few blocks to the apartment. I smile at random passers-by, ladies with babies, old women with tiny dogs, hotties in workout gear, I’m sure they think I’m nuts.
I take out my phone and text Frank, seeing if he’ll meet me for lunch. He’s a sucker for impromptu martini lunches. I can’t remember the last time we had one of those. I run upstairs and change my clothes. A button-down and respectable pair of pants will do me just fine.
“Ah, Derrick. Lovely to see you.”
Ah, shit. Alison still works here. The hostess at the bar inside the Carlyle Hotel greets me with a kiss on the cheek. Her black spaghetti-strap dress is too sultry for daytime, but the lighting in here forgives her for it. She’s tall, thin, blonde. Fake tits. We had a great time a few years back. All I really remember about fucking her was that she really liked it in the…
“Good to see you too,” I say, uninterested, looking around for my dad.
“That’s all you have to say? Bad boy?” Her eyes are deep blue, almost cobalt. There’s no line, so she steps in front of her podium. Her leg muscles are taut. She pets my arm.
“I was wondering when I’d see you in here again. I remember you. You’re a fun one.”
I don’t have time for this.
“Is my dad here?” I ask, not looking past her shoulders.
“Yeah,” she says, giving up. “Sitting down.”
I pass by Alison without a second thought and go around to the back of the bar, where I know Frank will be sitting.
He’s in a pinstripe suit. His tie is solid, grass green. They have him at a round table with a white tablecloth, and he’s already on his second drink.
“Derrick!” he booms.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Have a seat, please,” he asks me.
“Jim, bring us another martini, will you?”
Jim’s a sweet guy. Wrinkly and skinny with a mustache and a comb-over. He’s been working here forever. I swear I first met Jim when I was five. What does that say?
“Right away, sir.” And Jim disappears.
I take a seat across from Frank, sit back in my chair with my legs splayed, relaxed. He folds his hands on the table.
Jim appears again and sets the martini down in front of me.
Frank looks me in the eye, hands still folded. He’s smiling a little.
“Now, would you mind telling me what the fuck this is about?” Frank asks.
Wow, he’s not wasting any time, is he? Good for him, the old bastard.
“Dad, jeez, can’t we have lunch?”
“Don’t placate me. I can’t remember the last time you requested audience…”
“Requested audience?” I laugh.
“Do you hear yourself? Actually? When you talk? You’re not a monarch. No wonder Madison says we’re stuck-up.”
He sits back and laughs. For a little longer than the comment warranted. His face is reddened slightly.
“This is about the girl,” he says finally.
I feel a wave of anxiety but brush it off, determined to throw him off his suspicions.
“What does that mean?” I ask him. “What girl?”
“Derrick, please. I know you better than you think.”
He takes a sip of his drink, newly freshened by Jim. Another server grabs the two empty glasses he’s made in a line in front of him.
“You’ve been sending flowers to Madison for weeks. I see the bouquets in her room. I know that’s not cheap. What are you doing?”
“Actually, Dad, this has nothing to do with—”
He cuts me off.
“No. Listen to me.”
He sits back, runs a hand through the hair he has left, lets his legs splay and decides how to begin. He’s sweating. This is going to be terrible.
“I know you think of yourself as something of a lothario. Who would blame you? Women are throwing themselves at you left and right, they have been, ever since you were a teenager. You think you’ve got it made. You’re built like a fighter, you work out like a madman, ladies are dropping their panties whenever you say go. I used to be just like you. But… you can’t have this one.”
It’s rare that Frank speaks this candidly. He takes another sip of his third drink and I start on mine.
“What are you insinuating?” I’m not giving him an inch.
“I know you saw Elena at the show. She was throwing herself at you just like old times. You even disappeared with her. I won’t ask what went on, but I think I have a good idea. That’s not the point. The point is, I think you’re fixated on Madison. She’s very attractive, she’s a challenge, she’s… let’s face it, she’s right there, in your face, in your house all the time. Her room is right near yours, she’s your age…I’m not stupid. But…listen to me. You can’t fuck her.”
I almost choke on my drink.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” I say.
Actually, right now, that’s the truth.
“That may be. I’m sure she’s turned you down. That’s neither here nor there. But that’s not what Amanda and I are hearing, whenever we get within a mile of your school. Everyone says the two of you are an item. What do you have to say about that?”
“Dad, I don’t care what stupid kids are saying.”
“It’s not just the kids…”
“Fine. I don’t care what anyone is saying. You’re getting caught up in stupid rumors. It’s not true. Now, the reason I asked you here is because—”
“You need money.”
Okay, I have never seen him this candid before.
“Whoa… Dad, what…”
“And since when am I Dad?
I usually hear Frank from you. How much money do you need?”
I take a sip of water and try to figure out what the fuck is going on with my father.
“I don’t need money.”
“Fantastic!” he booms.
That makes me laugh. I cover my face with my hand and laugh hard into it.
“What is with you today?” I ask, regaining my composure.
He shrugs.
“Amanda and I, we’re fighting a lot. She’s stressed about the two of you. Son, don’t get married. No, that’s not fair. Just… get a prenup.”
I laugh some more.
“The reason I wanted to see you is because I am interested in a business venture.”
This makes him sit up straight, ears perked. Well, as straight as any man can sit three martinis in.
“I want to open up my own studio. MMA. There’s a space in Bay Ridge that’s perfect for what I have in mind. Dave and I want to go in on it together, but I’d be the owner since he has no startup capital. Well, very little. I have almost enough to buy the place myself outright.”
“With the money your grandmother left you.”
I nod. I like seeing him loosened up a bit. I think this is the most fun I’ve had with him in a while. He’s still an unfeeling bastard, but maybe he’s a well-meaning unfeeling bastard.
“Well, I’d have to have the space looked at… but it would give you something besides women to focus on. That’d be good. Promise me one thing, Derrick.”
“Yeah? What?”
I finish my drink and put it down with a smile.
“Leave your sister alone.”
Chapter 4: Madison
The house is way too quiet. Mom is teaching a night class, and honestly, I am glad for it. Ever since she became Mrs. Bourse, she hasn’t done much besides lilt around in fancy diaphanous clothing and shop for handbags.
“Do you like the pebbled finish, darling?” she asked me, shoving her Marc Jacobs satchel in my face last week. She’s been spending more and more time shopping alone and less time with Frank. God knows where Frank is.
And Derrick. He ran out this morning and I haven’t seen him since. I’m sitting at the oak desk in my room, my face deep in a textbook. I’ve lit a candle next to me and I feel very Victorian with my mug of Earl Grey tea and my reading light. The words are starting to meld together on the page. I’m not tired. I take another sip of the tea, and the bitterness bites my tongue. It’s been steeping too long. My hand travel downward, under the desk as I read. My fingers rest lightly between my legs, over my yoga pants. I can feel the outline of my slit as I gently encircle my outer and inner lips. I don’t press down hard, just enough to alert my nerves. I flip the page with my other hand, candle still burning. I haven’t been comprehending what I’m reading for a few moments. I look around me and the apartment looks dark. There could be a maid here somewhere, but I’m not really doing anything…
I press down harder. I’m reminded of my first internship at an art gallery, when they gave me some samples to look over and I fingered myself to orgasm with my boss sitting in his desk chair in the other room. I know how to come quietly. The sharpness of orgasm ripped up and inside of me but I contained it, not letting my legs spread apart too wide, or letting myself make a sound. I wonder if I could do that again. I close my eyes and see hazel eyes…
“Whoa.”
I jump up and hit my knee on the desk. Pain knocks into my consciousness as I turn my head to the doorway.
Derrick is standing there, smiling at me.
“What the hell? Get out of here!” I yell.
“Sorry,” he says, still grinning.
To my horror, I am smiling too.
“Studying?” he asks me.
“I… yes. I was studying. Why?”
I must be beet red at this point. I move my teacup to the other side of the desk for no reason at all and close the book.
“Looks like you were… really into the material,” he says.
“Oh my God. You and I both know what I was doing. Okay, you caught me. Big deal. Hope you got your jollies, because—”
“I miss you,” he says. “I love you.”
His words cut through me.
“Damn it, Derrick.”
He slowly starts moving into my room and I don’t stop him. By the time he’s standing over me I can smell him—the fresh scent of his cologne, the heat of his skin. My chest aches. I look up at him and throw my arms around his waist, pressing my cheek to his abdomen, remembering the exact outline of his torso, the circumference of his waist, the way he touched me. Derrick holds me tightly to him before dropping to his knees at my eye level. My eyes are wet with tears as he reaches for me, and we kiss stormily. Tears run down my face.
“I’d never hurt you again,” he says, breathless, kissing me again.
“I know. I know,” I respond, the heat of him enveloping me. I allow myself to be taken in by him, to let him cover me, to remember the two of us together, and finally allow myself the one thing I’ve been missing for so long.
I let his lips roam all over my neck, his mouth expertly finding the places I love to be kissed the most, pressing down hungrily and sending shivers all the way down my legs to my toes. His large hands slip up and under my sweatshirt. I’m not wearing a bra, and he grabs my breasts full-on with both hands, my nipples stiffening against his palms. He pinches my nipples as we kiss again, and I let out a loud moan, dropping to my knees in front of him.
“No, stand up,” he orders.
He pushes me down on the bed. I pull my sweatshirt off over my head and throw it on the floor, leaning back on my hands. He takes off his button-down shirt, revealing his gorgeous hard chest, and I ache to have him press it against my body.
He pulls my yoga pants off with one smooth motion. My blue cotton panties are soaked through. I can feel the sticky wetness against the lips of my pussy. He drops to his knees and kisses my pussy through my underwear. His mouth is warm and I lean my head back, ready, pleading to let him do whatever he wants.
“Derrick, please…”
Then his mouth is on mine again and we kiss so hard I think my cheek will be bruised in the morning. He wraps his hand lightly around my throat, scratches down my chest until it comes up in pink welts. I reach for his cock. It’s stiff in his pants. When I touch it, he moans, and the sound of him wanting me to touch him more makes my clit pound.
I undo his pants, take out his hard cock and take it in my mouth before he can protest me.
“God yes. Fuck, I missed you so much,” he moans.
I let up and start licking the head of his cock, spit in my hand and run it down the length of his shaft before sucking him into my mouth again. He lies down and snakes his fingers into my wet panties as I blow him, his fingers falling into me. All I want to do is suck his cock so deep and hard that he comes down my throat. He pulls my hair and I like it. I want him to control me, to put my mouth wherever he wants.
He pulls me off of him, throws me on my back and rips my panties off. He drops his face to my pussy and begins licking me, and I immediately remember how good he feels, how well he knows me, how easily he can make me…
“Derrick… not yet. I want you inside of me,” I say, before I come all over his face.
We kiss again, and he runs his fingers through my hair, over my face. I spread my legs wide and lift them up, wrap them tightly around him. He reaches down, begins rubbing the head of his cock against the length of my wet pussy. It’s torturous.
“Fuck me,” I beg him. “Please. I missed you so much. I need you. Please.”
I feel the head of his cock start to spread me open. It’s been a while since I’ve been fucked and he’s not small. He starts to push it into me and I’m so wet that it’s not difficult. He slides the whole length of his cock deep inside me and sensation floods my entire body. The top of my head tingles and I scratch his shoulders. He pushes into me faster, then faster still, then he hold
s my wrists above my head as he slams into me.
“I want to hold you,” I breathe.
I pull him in close to me, wrap my legs around him so tightly it’s as if I never want him to stop, and I’m not sure I do. My clit is pressed against his torso. I angle myself in such a way that every time he slams into me, I feel it on my clit. The rhythmic motion of him fucking me when I am so wet like this makes my pussy tighten. I feel like I’m going to come if he keeps going just like that.
“Yes, baby, please come for me,” he says. He can feel me tightening. He doesn’t stop fucking me, slamming his huge hard cock as far in as possible, my bed slamming against the wall.
I hear glass shatter in the doorway.
I see my mother standing at the entrance to my room with her mouth agape, Derrick’s vase slipped from her fingers and exploded into a million pieces on the marble floor beneath her feet. I reach for a blanket to cover us, but Derrick is already off of me in an instant, grabbing for his clothes.
She slams the bedroom door closed violently in our faces and I can hear her turn and start to pick up the glass shards from the floor. Derrick is dressed, but I am still lying naked in bed. I feel frozen in place. My face feels numb.
“Baby, get up,” he says to me.
My textbook is still sitting open on my desk, my candle burning, my tea cold, my desk lamp illuminating the words on the page.
Chapter 5: Derrick
“Here.”
I hand Madison her shirt. She’s still staring off into the distance, trying to make sense of the last few moments. She takes it from me and puts it on over her bare chest. Good. She has her bedspread gathered tightly around her nakedness below the waist and puts her face in her hands. I hand her her yoga pants, and she puts them on slowly. I pick up her soaked panties and throw them in her laundry basket.
“Are you ready?” I ask her, reaching for the door.
She nods.
When I open the door it’s as if nothing happened. The hall is dark and the floor is clean and shiny. I wonder for a moment if we imagined the whole thing. Imagined her mother standing there, shattering the glass to pieces. A few shards at my feet tell me otherwise. I reach down and pick them up gingerly, placing them in the palm of my hand.