Cookie Cutter

by Jo Richardson

  I caress her face and Iris’s expression becomes more serious as she lets my words float over the wall she’s built around herself for too long now.

  “Well you,” she blushes slightly and takes a breath, “really know what to say to a woman, don’t you?”

  Iris blinks and tries to look away. She thinks I do this a lot but she’s wrong. Now it’s my expression that changes.

  “Not really.”

  I take her face between my hands. I kiss her forehead, I kiss her nose, I kiss her eyes. And when our lips meet, I kiss her soul. It speaks to me through her hands, her tongue, her breathing. When the kiss ends, I see it in her tears.

  “Iris?” I wipe one away that’s decided to sit there, under her lashes.

  She shakes her head but won’t look at me.

  “Open your eyes, Iris.”

  When she does, my chest aches from the sadness lingering in them. It makes me want to find James and teach him a thing or two about how to treat a woman because I’m damned sure this is his doing. “Don’t cry.”

  “I’m such a mess, I don’t even know why I am.” She tries to laugh as she explains but a soft sob escapes her. She doesn’t have to explain this. Not to me.

  “I do.”

  It’s a whispered thought but she hears me and her hands move to fist the sides of my shirt tightly. She pulls it up and I raise my hands to let her take it off of me. She has to struggle because she’s so damn short and the mood lightens again for us. She pushes it up over my head and I let it fall to the floor, then I return the favor, easily sliding her top off. She wants to cover herself up with her hands but I won’t let her.

  “You’re gorgeous, Iris, don’t hide from me. Not now.”

  She lets me take her hands in mine but now she won’t look up. I make it my goal for the evening to get her to understand that she has nothing to be afraid of with me. I walk her backwards, slowly, into the living room, where the infamous futon lives and when the back of her knees hit the side of it, she falls backwards into the thing.

  I bend down and meet her lips with mine, leaning in so she has no choice but to lay back. When she’s comfortable there, I trap her hands above her head so she can’t hide herself for a while. I create a path of kisses along the nape of her neck, between her breasts, down to her belly where I hear the sharp intake of air, telling me . . . she’s ticklish.

  I smile against her skin and let go of her hands. One moves through my hair. I unbutton her jeans and her other hand flies to mine, stopping me.

  “I’m no spring chicken,” she says. “You sure you want to do this?”

  I look up at her, laying there, looking so self-conscious. And I grin. “You’re kidding me, right? You’re one of the fittest moms I know.”

  She raises an eyebrow, questioningly.

  “Okay you’re the only mom I know, but come on, Iris, you’re in better shape than half the country.”

  She props herself up onto her elbows. “I have stretch marks,” she says. Is she thinking, maybe even hoping it scares me off? “From labor,” she adds. “It’s not pretty.”

  “I doubt that.” I unzip her jeans.

  She tenses beneath me and I tug a little on her jeans, bringing them down around as far as I can. At this point, she either has to lift her hips for me, or I need to get aggressive. I don’t want to get aggressive with her. Not yet, anyway.

  “If you’re not sure you wanna do this, just say the word,” I say. “The last thing I want to do is make you regret something.”

  She stares me down for a minute or two. I don’t know what she’s going to do but I’m good either way. This thing between us is confusing at times, disarming even, but mostly, it’s just us.

  Whatever happens, happens.

  Just when I think she’s going to sit up and go, she lets out a sigh of decisiveness.

  And lifts.

  A hidden smirk emerges from me as I kiss her belly one more time. I like it here. She’s soft and smooth and everything Iris. Then I guide her jeans the rest of the way off of her.

  I slide my hands up her legs and spread them. I move my hands along her thighs and let my thumb dip inside the hem of her jet black boy short undies where I stop to give her a pointed look. “These are hot, Iris.”

  She giggles and falls back down into the futon. She covers her face because she thinks I’m teasing but I’m not. The shorts alone have me harder than I can handle right now. I look at her laying there and I shake my head because I see none of the scars that she refers to. Or any imperfections. All I see is Iris. With all her curves and dips and smooth skin and nervous excitement.

  And she’s, “Perfect.”

  Her hands move away from her eyes and she lets me see the rest of her face. I pull the boy shorts down and off of her, then I stand and help her up. I look her into her eyes while I reach around her. She seems a tad confused until she feels my fingers at the hook of her bra. I slide the straps down her shoulders and she lets me this time without any second thoughts.

  “Here,” she says, and she takes my hand in hers and moves it to her breast.

  I cradle and tease, and run a finger over its peak. Iris’s eyes close and her lips fall apart slightly, so I pinch. But only a little bit. She lets out a hum that makes me want to roll her over, pull that long brown hair of hers and make her forget what the term stay at home mom even means.

  Fuck. I don’t know how much more foreplay I can take but I’m determined to make this good for her. Iris has other plans, though, as she turns us around and unbuttons my jeans. She slides the zipper and grabs ahold of my boxers, pulling everything down in one fell swoop. She takes a moment to see what she’s set free before standing up again.

  She eyes me carefully. Then she jumps me.

  “Holy . . .”

  We both fall down onto the futon. Miraculously it doesn’t break. We’re now laughing our asses off and I’m just glad I didn’t hurt something when I fell. As I’m looking up at Iris, pushing the hair behind her ears, she’s looking down at me and I see something there.

  “You look happy.”

  “Um, thanks?” She blushes that perfect shade of pink that only Iris can pull off.

  “You’re glowing.”

  I haven’t seen her like this since I met her. Another thing I could get used to.

  “It’s because of you.” She licks her lips and the laughing dies. “You make me . . . glowy.”

  We chuckle in unison, then Iris dips down and puts her mouth to mine. She’s got to feel what she’s doing to me now. It’s not just the fact that she’s beautiful, and smart, and funny . . . it’s this light inside her. The way, when, she turns it on, it’s brighter than anything or anyone I’ve ever known. I want to be a part of that light.

  When making out isn’t enough anymore, she straddles me and sits upright. The moon shines against her skin and she’s smiling at me with this look on her face that says she doesn’t have a care in the world; only what’s happening right here, right now . . . I know it’s me who’s making her feel that way.

  And when her hand snakes down to appreciate how much she affects me in every way, I pull her down into a kiss while my fingers find out what I do to her.

  “Jesus, Iris.”

  She hums in response as she caresses and strokes.

  “Do we need something?” I ask her, just to make sure. “A condom?”

  She shakes her head. “I’m on birth control.”

  I give her a sly look.

  “It’s for regulating purposes,” she explains and I smile, but only because she’s so damn cute when she’s overly cautious.

  She allows me to take some control of the situation with a lift of her hips. And when I push into her, it’s slow and torturous but in such a good fucking way. I want to make it happen now, but I want it to last a lifetime, too.

  With a small croon, Iris lets me know how good I feel inside of her and I know right then, when she’s looking into my eyes, that I want the job of making her sound this blissful fo
r a long time to come.

  * * *

  I can’t say I would have ever thought of laying naked on a futon in the middle of a construction zone as sexy, but right now, with Iris, it totally is.

  She fell asleep for a little while after round two of . . . getting to know each other. I keep thinking about the first time I saw her, when I borrowed that damn hammer. I could have borrowed one from anyone on this block but I chose Iris’s house. She hated me that day for making her late. I could see it in her eyes. In everything she did, really.

  How we got from there to here, baffles me.

  I close my eyes and breathe in. I can still see her, just a little while ago, rocking with purpose, making those sexy ass noises she makes every once in a while; like a hum, only more like a song of some sort – and how it felt to be a part of her like that. To be a part of anyone like that. It’s . . . I don’t recall I’ve ever had the feeling of being so connected.

  Iris stirs and adjusts so that she’s curled up into my side like a cat. She’s waking up.

  “I fell asleep,” she mumbles and I graze my fingers along her arm.

  “You did.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  I smile. “No problem.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Not sure. You have somewhere to be, Iris?”

  She laughs quietly. “Just wondering if Ally’s home yet.”

  I’m not sure what to do now. Under normal circumstances, in a normal house with normal furniture, I’d ask her if she was hungry and make us something to eat, but I’ve got squat in the fridge and even if I did, I’m not sure she would stay.

  She’s fidgety like that. I never know when she’s going to run off on me and realize what a mistake she’s made by staying here tonight. Especially if her mind is on Ally.

  Maybe she’s not sure what to do either.

  My cell phone vibrates against the table and breaks the silence that just took over our mood. I check and see if it’s anything I might need to deal with immediately.

  Like college tuition.

  It’s not Spencer this time, but it is his mom. I sigh and answer it, hoping Iris doesn’t get offended.

  “Hey.”

  “Sorry to bother you, Carter.”

  Iris sits up and I hold a finger up, hoping she’ll stay.

  “No, is he okay?” I hop up off of the futon to take the rest of the call in the kitchen. I slide my jeans on as Betty speaks.

  “Jus’ wanted to let you know the dean called today. They got your check,” Betty says with her New Orleans accent.

  “Good. Good, alright listen, can I call you later?”

  “No need,” she says. “I can tell you’re busy. I jus’ didn’t want you to worry’s all.”

  “You sure I---”

  “No, no, Carter, everything’s fine. Have a good night.”

  She ends the call abruptly and I feel slightly shitty but secretly, I’m glad she didn’t want to chat. I toss the phone onto the kitchen counter. When I turn to go back to Iris, she’s standing at the doorway, starting to dress and eyeing me hard.

  “Who was that?”

  I look back at the phone.

  “That was . . .” I have a difficult time sharing Spence with anyone. Granted, Iris is different, especially now, but the words just don’t seem to be coming to me. “Not important.”

  “It sounded important,” she insists. Her hands are on her hips now. Her tone is daring me to disagree with her. “In fact it sounded like it was a woman. Was it an important woman Carter?”

  I take a breath and think about it. I could just tell her it was my mom for Christ’s sake. But I won’t lie to her. “Yes.”

  She huffs in disgust and starts gathering the rest of her clothes.

  “Iris.”

  “Are you some kind of . . . dead beat dad or something? Because I have to be honest here, I have one too many of those in my life already.”

  “What? No.” I chase her back into the front room.

  She stops to study me.

  “Come on, Iris, you just slept with me for Christ’s sake. You really think your judgment is that bad?”

  Her expression softens. “No.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a wave of triumph and a sigh of relief.

  “So then, who was it?”

  “I . . .” am still trying to come up with a way to tell her this story when she places a hand on her hip and drops her pants to the floor.

  And damn she looks right standing there in nothing but a shirt.

  “Fess up, Blackwood.” The way she commands me cuts my train of thought off at the pass.

  “Have a seat?” I offer, as I take one myself, back on the futon.

  Iris sits and curls her legs up into her like she’s getting ready to hear a bedtime story. I can’t help but smile.

  “I was in New Orleans with Habitat for Humanity during my second to last year of under grad.”

  It’s Iris who breaks the tension. “And you knocked her up!”

  “Iris.”

  “Wham Bam, thank you for the kid but I gotta run?”

  I cross my arms and wait.

  “What?”

  “Are you done?”

  She straightens herself and takes a breath. “Sorry.”

  “Spence used to come watch us build every day.”

  “Spence?”

  I nod. “Spencer; he was this kid. He didn’t talk much but he’d sit there and watch, all afternoon, from the time school let out, ‘til he had to go home and eat.”

  Iris’s furrows her brow slightly, interested.

  “One day, I was on break and I tried to get him to talk a little, you know, joking around and finally, I asked, where’s your dad, kid? And he looked up at me.” I pause at this part. I still remember that look on his face. “And without wavering or looking to upset at all, actually, he said, the storm took him.”

  Iris is visibly hit with this. Just like I was. Her eyes tell me her heart is crushed. I know the feeling.

  “Come to find out, he used to go to his dad’s construction site after school and watch him work all afternoon. They’d go home together.”

  “Oh my God,” she says. “What happened?”

  “I started walking him home. He was only eleven then. I don’t know. He seemed young. I guess some parents think that’s old enough to walk home alone. Maybe Spence was. Maybe I needed him more than he needed me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrug. “I was kinda trying to find my way when I went down there. Instead, I found Spence.”

  She tilts her head. “Trying to find your way about what?”

  “My job, my life. Everything I guess.”

  This part of the story, I wasn’t counting on but I figure, hell, why not take it all the way home?

  “Not happy huh?” She notices and I confirm it for her.

  “You could say that.”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t understand how you went from walking this kid home to . . . what is it between you exactly?”

  “Well, after I started hanging out at Bettys for a while, she started insisting on feeding me every night. Then after a few more days, I started staying later, helping Spence with homework, horsing around outside some . . . eventually I got their story – and it wasn’t pretty. Spence’s dad’s income was their only income and their insurance was super slow at giving them anything for the damages to their old house; they couldn’t afford to stay in the rental they were living in much longer.” I shrug. “I started helping them.”

  She looks in awe of what I just said. Like a light just went off. “That’s why you take all the odd jobs.”

  I nod. “Betty got a job but it just wasn’t cutting it, and I couldn’t stand thinking Spence might end up another statistic of New Orleans. I wanted something better for him.”

  “This was how many years ago?”

  I scratch at the back of my neck, thinking. “Seven?”

  “Jesus, Carter.”

&nbs
p; “He called the other night while we were at the carnival because his college tuition for the quarter hadn’t arrived yet but Betty just let me know it’s all good now.”

  She sits back and leans against the window frame.

  “I am so sorry I ever thought you were just a money grubbing house flipper looking for a quick buck.”

  I laugh. “What?”

  “Did you find it?”

  “What?”

  “Whatever it was you were looking for down in New Orleans.”

  I let out a heavy sigh because I did and I didn’t. I went home after that trip and tried to tell dad about my hopes and dreams. The real ones. How I wasn’t too keen on being a lawyer for the rest of my life. He responded by telling me that I was going to assist him on his next case. “Mostly.”

  “Well,” she says with a smile as she leans toward me. “Maybe that’s a story for another day.”

  She places her lips against mine and yeah, still erotic.

  “I need to get home, I want to make sure Ally’s there, safe and sound… and I’ve got---”

  “Work to do,” I finish for her. “I’ll walk you home.”

  Regrettably, Iris gets dressed the rest of the way and while we stroll across the street to her place, she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees the light on in her daughter’s room. Ally’s silhouette shows through the curtains. “That’s my girl.”

  “She’s pretty smart, you know,” I say and Iris grins.

  “Thanks for getting her the other night by the way. She has very reluctantly informed me that she does not hate you.”

  I laugh at that and am not surprised one bit. “I wonder where she gets that stubbornness from.”

  “Not me that’s for sure.”

  At her front door step, we linger.

  “I feel like I’m on a first date in high school or something.” I’m not ready for goodnight yet.

  “Well that was some first date, Carter Blackwood,” she says with a blush rising to her cheeks. She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth and lets it go, then she pushes up onto her tip-toes and I meet her halfway.

  After a slow graze of her tongue with mine, I put my lips next to her ear. “We’ll have to do this again sometime.”