Black Flag (Racing on the Edge)

by Stahl, Shey

  “Really?” I teased. “I can’t think of anything better than ice cream.”

  Jameson growled and in one quick, but gentle placid movement, I was flat on my back with him hovering. “You can’t think of anything better...?” his hand that was resting against the mattress slowly moved from beside my head, ghosting over my skin like a feather. Traveling across my arm over my abdomen and lingered near the crankcase. His long slender fingers traced circles around my ignition switch.

  Christ that’s nice.

  My poor crankcase has been neglected for way too long. The closest she came to any action recently was the doctor checking my cervix. Not a good time.

  I even called said doctor the other day and asked if I could get some valium prescribed. He kindly declined and said that I couldn’t take it while being pregnant, which I thought was complete bullshit. I needed it.

  But now, he was here all sexy and dirty heathen like, with his Grizzly Adams beard that had me shivering every time he brushed his face near me.

  “What were you saying again?” he growled into the sensitive skin just below my ear, the scruff scratching in the most delicious way. “Something about ice cream being the best?”

  “No...I said no such thing.” I panted out as his fingers snaked underneath my panties, teasing the properly lubricated crankcase.

  “No, no, I remember. You said...I can’t think of anything better.” He quoted. “Yep, that’s what you said.”

  “Did not,”

  “Yes you did,” he yanked his fingers away. “No ice cream for you then.”

  What did the fucker do next? Pulled away completely, took my Fish Food Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, and began eating it, with that dirty smirk on his adorable Grizzly Adams face.

  Before I could get my ice cream back Emma was knocking on the door obsessively. “Can I at least have my bag assholes?”

  We both start laughing. She was out in the hallway with nothing but a pair of tiny shorts and a tank top.

  I was well aware of how cold this house was in the mornings, so I motion for Jameson to hand her the bag on the floor near the door.

  “Hold on,” his eyes lit up. “I got an idea.” His smirk turned evil.

  “What?” I whispered trying to be sneaky.

  I was up for any idea to pay Emma back after sitting around this house for two weeks waiting for Jameson to get home.

  Do you have any idea what it’s like spending that much time with Emma? She was another reason why I requested the valium.

  “Where’s that lotion she’s so obsessed with?” Jameson asked looking through her bag.

  “In there somewhere.” I laughed. “She’s like Buffalo Bill with that shit.”

  Never in my life had I ever seen someone put as much lotion on as Emma does. Seriously, I counted one day, seventeen obsessive times she smeared lotion all over herself. It was as though she had some kind of paroxysm with putting lotion on.

  And Jameson was the complete opposite. He hated anything on his skin. It’s really entertaining to take him to the beach.

  “What are you doing?” I asked curiously.

  He pulled out a bottle of sunless self-tanning lotion out of his own bag. Pouring out the contents of Emma’s lotion, and then transferred the tanning lotion into the bottle.

  “Should I be concerned that you have self tanning lotion in your bag?”

  “No, you should be proud that I bought this thinking of paying my sister back for that road trip.”

  “You are a genius!” I whisper shouted at him. This was the best idea he’s had yet, besides asking me to marry him, that was a damn good idea if I may say so myself.

  Jameson quickly completed the mission, stealthy mission impossible style and opened the door to hand Emma her bag. Emma eyed him cautiously.

  His shirt was off and he was only wearing a pair of jeans that are slung low on his waist with the top button undone, compliments of me.

  Emma being Emma—covered her eyes and screamed like a child that she saw her brother without a shirt. She then took her bag and ran down the hall, still wailing.

  “This is going to be awesome.” I said as he sprawled out on my bed again, ice cream in hand.

  “How long does it take to show up?”

  “I’ve never used it so I’m not sure...but we’re going to find out though.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.

  “This shit is gonna make me fat.” He tipped the carton in hand to read the nutritional facts or lack thereof.

  “You know, the last time you filled her lotion with that she smelled like burnt popcorn for a week.”

  Jameson looked up from his carton confused. “Last time?”

  “Right before you left for Pocono.”

  “Ah yes,” he laughed. “That was actually Tommy.”

  And I wasn’t surprised at all by that.

  A few hours later, Jameson was helping me shower. Well actually, I should rephrase that. I was trying to shower with my two-hour maximum amount of time standing during the day, and Jameson was making sure I didn’t miss any spots. I had so much fucking soap on me right then I could be a bubble bath model.

  “Seriously Jameson,” I slapped his hand away, the water exaggerated the sound. “Enough with the soap already,”

  “Sorry, I got carried away.” He mumbled and proceeded to pout.

  “Here, look.” I’m very good at distracting.

  “Ah...shit, Sway...that’s...” he voice faded.

  “Amazing?” I finished.

  “Yes, yes, amazing.”

  Only problem with checking bearing alignment and reciprocating motions with all the soap, it gets places you don’t want, like your eyes.

  “I can’t see anything,” Jameson gasped wiping his eyes causing more of the soap to blind him. “Shit.”

  “Don’t move...you got it in my eye now.” I told him, squinting.

  Whatever happened to tear free soap?

  “Oh sorry...shit...it burns...too much soap in here.”

  “Says the person who was pouring it on my ass minutes ago,”

  “That’s before you distracted me.” Jameson defended, trying to place the blame on me. “You shouldn’t have grabbed me like that.”

  “Here...hand me that hose thing over there.”

  My hands were frantically trying to find the hose until I found it...but it’s not the hose I’m looking for.

  “Stop that...you’ll distract me again.”

  “Oh sorry,” I giggled. “My bad,”

  Soon Jameson found the correct hose thing and sprayed us down, washing away the bubble brigade. Once the bubbles are all gone we decide this really was a bad idea, got out of the shower, and finished the round in my bedroom.

  I would much rather be doing some align boring right now, instead of this assessment, but sadly this was all we were permitted to do. So I continued, as did Jameson.

  I was making a lot of fucking noise, as was Jameson. My neck muffled his though so all you hear was me...acting like a fucking spastic hyena once again.

  What must the neighbors think?

  I tried to reach behind me to help Jameson out with his need as well since his magical fingers were sending me over the edge.

  “No,” he shook his head. “Just you...”

  My high-pitched hyena cries peaked a few seconds later as I moved my hips against his hand. While doing this, Jameson added his own reciprocating motions. It just added to the entire experience of being manhandled by my dirty heathen and I let go because I knew he was enjoying it as well.

  Now I’ve never gave a man an orgasm by just rubbing my ass against him, other than the time Jameson and I woke up in a sleeping bag together after a race the summer he won the USAC Triple Crown, but in the land of the knocked-up-naughty-bed-ridden-pigizzle, there was a first time for everything.

  Or a second time if you counted the first.

  I didn’t realize this was happening until I heard him gasp loudly, his arms tightened around me; and felt his entire body c
lench and begin to shake and tremble right along with me as he growled out “Oh fuck,” against my shoulder and pull my hips harder against his.

  That was by far the best reciprocating motion assessment I had ever experienced.

  “Did you?” I don’t know why I asked, I could feel the warm sticky mess on my ass and back.

  He didn’t answer me just let out a deep breath like he’d been holding it and rolled onto his back, right off the bed.

  “Fuck...”

  “Hey, where did you go?”

  “I fell.”

  “Poor dirty heathen,”

  I didn’t offer to help him up. Instead, I reached for the Chunky Monkey and began eating my ice cream once again. My flailing spaz was letting me know it was time.

  Jameson peeked his head up from the floor. “That’s okay...I’m all right. Thanks for checking.”

  “No problem.” I mumbled with my mouth full.

  After showering once again, without the bubble brigade, I decided it was time to change my sheets since I got them dirty. This has me smiling all the way down the hall to the laundry room. Once I entered the laundry room, I spotted Emma in there doing laundry of course bouncing up and down while she shook her ass to the music blaring through her iPod.

  Watching this for a moment, just confirmed my testament that the crazier you are, the more calories you burned. She never stopped fucking moving, even in her sleep. That’s why psychos are always so skinny, they never stop moving.

  “What are you doing?” she asked nonchalantly looking at my sheets yanking her headphones out.

  “What does it look like captain obvious?”

  “What happened...did you pee the bed?” she teased smirking folding a pair of jeans.

  I’ve had about enough of Emma in the last three weeks. Between the road trip from hell, the biker bar, the taint tank, the endless amount of Britney Spears songs, her stalker tendencies toward Miley Cyrus and her obsessive lotion fetish, I snapped.

  “No,” I smiled widely. I used this smile once before when my political economics professor in college told me not to come to his class drunk anymore. “But they do have your brother’s jizz on them.”

  She was obviously not prepared for my response. Her features surprised, shocked even. When it finally dawned on her what I said, she had a reaction similar to the cameraman in those Jackass movies when Steve-O shits himself.

  “Oh my god!” she was screeching and retching and gagging and a lot of other concerning noises. “I’m gonna be sick.”

  And what did I do next?

  I tossed the sheets on top of her and laughed my ass off. I was laughing because the gagging motion she was making strangely resembled Mr. Jangles when he was trying to cough up a hairball. It was also incredibly rewarding after everything she’d put me through recently.

  “That...is...so...” more retching and other weird noises I’ve never heard a human make. “Gross...” she didn’t make it and ran full speed for her size to the bathroom.

  Mission accomplished.

  I trotted back to my room to get dressed. I had a doctor’s appointment in less than an hour so I thought it was time to actually put on clothes besides sweat pants and tank tops. I was becoming good at being lazy.

  Once dressed, I met Jameson downstairs in the living room where he was sitting with Charlie. I caught the last half of their conversation when I finished waddling over to Jameson.

  “...you’ll win. There’s no way Tate can catch you.” Charlie told Jameson. “Even if you do finish last the next few races, you’ll win.”

  When I yelled at Jameson a few weeks ago for punking out, I had no idea that would turn into the determined heathen he’d become. Charlie was right; no one stood a chance against him now. All that frustration, all those fears he had, all those emotions he felt about what Darrin had done to us had now been turned into determination to become a champion and prove the world wrong.

  I wasn’t sure if he’d moved on, but he had channeled his anger.

  “Yeah,” Jameson mumbled running his hand across his jaw. I made him keep the beard, I kind of like it for now. “I don’t wanna get my hopes up but I think I got it under wraps.”

  “You do son.” Charlie stood. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a nap to tend to.” He tipped his head toward us and then proceeded up the stairs with Mr. Jangles in tow.

  Charlie slept a lot these days, he also reminded me of Mr. Jangles. Every time I turned around he was taking a nap but Andrea told me this was normal. If there was one good thing about this bed rest, it was being around Charlie more. He’d also become a reality TV whore just like Emma and me. We all fit in nicely together.

  I felt bad for Van having to endure not only Emma, but also all of us watching reality TV all day long, and the endless amounts of ice cream we all consumed. Charlie had yet to try all the flavors of Ben and Jerry ice cream we’d tried. He had some catching up to do. Van also gave in when he finally tasted their Mud Pie flavor. So we were now a bunch of reality TV whores and Ben and Jerry taste testers. If you put all four of our weight gains together, we equaled a tiny person named Ben or Jerry, whomever you prefer.

  Van was also not very happy about that. Something about running ten miles a day and feeling fat jiggle. I wanted to ask him how he thought I felt but didn’t. I’m sure, by my frequent complaining, he knew my thoughts on getting jiggly.

  Just as we were about to leave for my appointment, Emma finally came out of the bathroom with a wash cloth attached to her as she frantically scrubbed her skin. She obviously didn’t rub the self-tanner in very well, but how could she of known to?

  Anyhow, now she just looked like that clown fish off Finding Nemo with strips of orange and white and once again, smelled like burnt popcorn. She used an excessive amount too, but yet again, it’s not like she knew what exactly she was lathering up with.

  Jameson and I both burst into laughter but as soon as Emma spotted Jameson, she started gagging again and ran back to the bathroom without saying anything.

  Finally, something has made her speechless.

  “What was that about?” Jameson asked through shakes of laughter, his arm slung around my shoulders.

  I couldn’t stop laughing long enough to actually tell him what I did so I just simply waved around like a peacock with my arms flailing trying to tell him. I eventually gave up and just sat there laughing with him until I needed to change my underwear because I once again, peed my pants.

  On the way to my appointment, Jameson took a detour that led us to Summit Lake. He spotted a for sale sign off Highway 8, so he followed it and then found ourselves at one of the most beautiful homes I had ever seen.

  I fell in love immediately in the kitchen and its dark cherry cabinets and black granite countertops. I was already imagining a repeat performance of the Sway Banana Split.

  The house was beautiful but way too fucking expensive. I almost went into labor at the price. Seeing how we already had one home in Mooresville, I hardly saw the need for one so expensive here but I also knew I couldn’t stand living in the same house with the Lucifer twins much longer.

  We walked through the house after I told him I didn’t want to but of course he threw out the smirk, I gave in despite myself.

  I finally told him my worries when we were standing in the back yard looking at the view of Summit Lake from the homes’ private dock.

  “We can’t afford this place.”

  “We can, we—”

  “No, we can’t, we have a baby coming and we already have a house in Mooresville.” I interjected, whirling to face him. He stared down at me with an amused expression. The setting sun was illuminating the rusty highlights in his scruff along his sharp defined jaw.

  “We can. I—” he started again, and I shook my head.

  “Jameson, you’re—” I began, but stopped when he pressed his fingers against my mouth.

  “Keep interrupting me and watch how fast you get tossed in that lake,” he warned with a twinkle in
his eyes. I just smiled so he continued. “Sway, we can afford it. If you forgot, I’m a huge NASCAR star and soon to be champion.” He finished breaking out into his signature-crooked grin. “We can do this.”

  “You’re pretty confident you’re going to win there, huh?”

  “I have no doubt in my mind I’m going to win.”

  “Jesus,” I rolled my eyes when he winked. “If your head was any bigger it’d need its own zip code.”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “Fine...we’ll get the house, but you’re buying it money bags.”

  “House for us?” he pulled me against his chest looking down at me.

  “Yes...house for us.”

  Alternator – Jameson

  In bed with Sway was torture. Pure fucking torture. Sure, we had messed around numerous times today but this was hell. All I wanted was to make love to her, but no...no penetration for another eight weeks. No matter how hard I tried, it’s all I thought about when she was close to me. I felt every touch, every kiss with a burning intensity that didn’t fail to shake me to my core every single time.

  “I hate this,” I groaned throwing myself back on the bed.

  “Hate what?” Her eyes were still glued to that retarded reality TV show she was watching.

  “This,” I motioned toward my straining erection. “This is like that goddamn summer all over again.”

  “Huh?”

  “Our summer, it’s like reliving it all over again.”

  “What are you talking about?” her brow creased as she turned her head to look at me.

  I sighed dramatically throwing my arms over my face. I couldn’t believe she didn’t remember but how could she really? I never said anything. I never told her how it was her that I imagined with me intimately back then. She had no idea of all the countless on nightstands I had; I was imagining her as those women. I even went as far as saying her name one time in the heat of the moment with another woman. I think at that point, I realized my feelings might be deeper than purely physical desires.

  “Staying away from you, do you know how hard that was for me?” I told her after a few moments.