by Parker Ford
“Maybe he had too much to drink,” I said softly, staring at my swinging feet.
“No excuse.” His stormy eyes flashed and he turned from me, wiping off tools and hanging them on the pegboard on the back wall.
“And us?” I asked, picking a sliver of wood on the work bench’s old, weathered surface.
“No excuse,” he repeated.
“Gil, I--”
He turned way too fast and I felt my body rear back from him. The intensity of his anger was overwhelming and my stomach dipped crazily with nerves. “We shouldn’t have done it. Not the first time and sure as shit not last night. It should never have happened. Nothing should have happened between us beyond father and daughter stuff.”
“But Gil--”
“Shut up, Jen,” he hissed. “It’s wrong. I need to divorce your mother and move far, far away from it all. This house, this town, her…you.”
My vision trembled with unshed tears and when he moved to pass me I grabbed his sleeve and tugged. I caught him off guard and the force of my grab pulled him to me in a stumble step. I hooked my arm around his neck and my legs around my waist and I kissed him. I craned my neck and kissed him, feeling the bite and sting of his stubble on my cheek and my lips.
Gil grunted and for one blissful second, as his hand came down on my waist and he held me there, he kissed me back. He kissed me hard and when he pulled away I sighed and he said my name once, like the ending to a plea. “Jen.”
“Please don’t,” I said.
“I can’t.”
“Please, Gil.”
“Please don’t ask me to. Please don’t ask me to be a bad person.”
“But it isn’t bad. I’m not your daughter. I’m just a girl.”
“A girl that I love.”
My heart soared and my pulse raced. “Gil--”
He held up a hand. “A girl I love and have loved forever. Who I taught to fish and took to ball games. Fuck, I tucked you in at night and drove you to get your first box of tampons because--”
“Because my fucking mother wasn’t here to do it!” I roared. “Because you were always here and she wasn’t! And you love me because you love me and I’m all grown up now, dad! And you want me and that is what scares you. You want me and I want you and you’d rather play the father card because you’re scared.”
Gil looked at me as if I’d started spewing profanity in church, turned on his heels and left me sitting there on his workbench. On his bench lay a pane with a tall honey haired angel outlined in stained glass. She was beautiful. Tall and strong and sure of herself with her silver sword. She was everything I wasn’t.
I didn’t see Gil the rest of the day, or even Carl. I went to my shift to find Carl MIA and came home to find Gil in bed already. They were both gone when I got up. The next day passed slowly, a torturous parade of time until I could go to work
Finally it was time for me to pull on jeans and a white John’s Tavern tee. I put on my sneakers and brushed my blue streaked hair that now seemed silly and juvenile. I trudged the blocks to work like I had cement in my shoes.
Carl was already off work and drinking with the boys from the landscaping crew who he spent all day with and now, apparently, all night. He came over on the sly. “Hi, girly,” he said and I caught the sheepish look and the blush.
“So you got drunk and fucked Tammy,” I said, washing mugs behind the bar. Carl pressed his lanky frame over the bar top to talk to me softly.
“I didn’t fuck her,” he said, leaning low.
“Ah,” I said with no real anger. Who was I to judge? I’d given my stepfather a blow job the night before. Could I really ridicule him over Tammy, who would basically fuck around with anyone who gave her the time of day?
“I’m sorry, Jen. I had too much to drink and you know I get stupid when I do that.”
I nodded and rinsed all the mugs before upending them on the drying mat. “Gotcha.”
“You okay? I mean beyond being mad at my dumb ass.”
“I’m not mad,” I said. “Tired.”
He was covered in rock dust and dirty. His face was sun burnt and his strawberry blonde hair was lighter from working n the sun, already. “I hear ya. You want food when you get off? I can take you out.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” John motioned me over. “I have to go. On the clock and all that. I’ll check in soon.”
I turned from him, relieved to be done with having to talk. Truth be told, Carl could turn tail and walk off into the night and never be heard from again and I’d be fine. I’d remember fondly how well we got along and the good sex and all the laughter and booze and music and a few nights of good pot and munching out at the Mexican food drive through. But I wouldn’t miss him. Or grieve. Shit, I wouldn’t even cry.
Please don’t ask me to be a bad person Gil had said to me. Now that made me feel like crying. As if loving me, as if wanting me, was akin to being a bad person.
I helped John hang the new beer deal sign and tried not to think about Gil or Carl or fucking or grief or my runaway mother and her box of pictures that she was already absent from.
“You okay, kiddo?” John asked.
“Tired,” I told him.
And I was. I was tired down to my bones. Tired of floundering in my life and wasting it on people who didn’t want me.
Chapter 10
Carl cornered me after shift in the back alley. He’d popped home and showered, his hair was combed and he smelled like cologne. “Hey there, wanna go eat with me?”
“Maybe,” I said and tried to smile.
He kissed me and I let him. He had no idea anything between us was off. Anything strange he’d chalk up to his screwing around with Tammy. Any girlfriend would be pissed about that, right?
His hand sliced a trail from knee two groin between my leg and he levered the hard ridge of his hand to my jean seam. The thick fabric pressed my clit, stole my breath. He kissed me hard against the wall, my head swimming with the clean smell of him. What the fuck, Gil didn’t want me. What difference did it make?
“Let me go home and shower,” I laughed.
Carl shook his head, smiling in the single spotlight that John had secured in the brick wall to keep folks from hanging out in the back alley and doing drugs. Or fucking, let’s face it. “Un-unh,” he breathed.
“Come on,” I said. But he pushed his hand into my jeans and touched my clit, smeared my ready moisture around with his fingertips. I gripped his shoulder, let him kiss me again. He rubbed slow and even, faster and faster and faster until the spirals he traced on my skin sucked me under and I came, shuddering against the wall like a teenager.
Carl knew the way to my forgiveness, it usually involved his talented fingers or tongue or cock and an orgasm or three for me. “Come to dinner with me,” he said.
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
We both heard movement and turned. First I saw Gil’s pissed off face, then Tammy. Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive, I thought wildly.
“I see you’ve forgiven him,” Gil said and then walked away shaking his head.
“He did fuck me,” Tammy chimed in and I pushed off the wall and headed after Gil leaving Carl to sort out his issues with his brand new lover.
I didn’t see Gil on the street and could only assume he’d driven the short trip from home to the tavern. I had to run. I ran like the devil was on my heels. I ran like my life depended on it. I ran like I was sorry. Because I was. No matter what he said, I knew the look on Gil’s face when he found me with Carl. I’d had that look, felt it, lived it. That look was pain and I never wanted to cause Gil pain. Not since I was a little girl.
At first I had hated him. Loathed him for trying to take my father’s place. For being in the home with us when my real dad couldn’t or wouldn’t. Hated him for having my mother and her for having him. Hated that he was so handsome and nice and funny and good. But once that had shifted, once it had morphed, all I ever wanted was for Gil to be proud of me. To lo
ve me like I wanted to be loved. To love me as much as my mother.
“More, more than her,” I softly to myself, reaching out to tap the parking meters on Main Street as I shot past them at a dead run. Running to save my life, to save my soul. Running to save my heart.
By the time I came pounding down Flying Monkey Way I felt like I’d be sick from running. When I turned on to my street and saw his big blue truck in the driveway, I sobbed louder. I burst through the front door, heart rapid and sickening in my chest. Sweat that prickled heat along my brow and lip turned oily and cold. I turned in a circle. “Gil?”
No answer. There were boxes strewn about and some were partially full. But not of her stuff this time. Of his. My stomach rolled over and I dropped into an easy chair, putting my head between my knees, panting for breath.
I heard a sound in the bedroom and when the world stopped tilting I rushed in to find him throwing things in a box randomly. His face cold and set, his eyes dark and angry. “Gil!”
“Leave Jen. Or don’t leave, actually. This is your house now and I’m leaving it.”
“No,” I said and rushed at him.
He caught me up in his hands, keeping me at arms length no matter how much I struggled. “I came to say I was sorry. And there you were. With that person. You’re still punishing yourself, aren’t you?”
“What?” I was so confused and I shook my head like I was on trial and denying every accusation.
“Your mother spent her life punishing everyone else for your father leaving and you run around punishing yourself. Over and over and over again. Aren’t you tired of it?”
“You have no idea,” I said and dropped my arms. Now that he’d said it, I felt he weight of it on me, hanging on me. Crushing me. I dropped to the bed, the tears coming hot and fast. “Oh my god,” I said, the truth so dark and cloying I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And I couldn’t--the air whistled in and out of me, teasing me but giving me no real relief. I was starving for air--thirsty, hungry, needy of it.
“Christ,” I heard him say and he drooped to his knees in front of me, pushing my head down, rummaging and finally finding a paper bag from a pharmacy prescription. “Breathe, honey. Breathe,” he said.
I tried. My vision going gray and then sparkling white. Terror flooded my limbs and I felt paralyzed, literally. Tears leaked in a steady stream from my eyes and Gil kept his gaze pinned to mine. He stroked my bangs out of my face and talked a soft steady river of words at me. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re hyperventilating and it sucks ass but you’ll be fine. You are not going to suffocate or die or any of it. You are fine, you hear me?”
I nodded, still struggling for air, trying so hard to believe Gil because I knew he’d never lie to me. My fingers pawed relentlessly at the leg of his jeans, tugging in a restless, desperate way as the air tried to tear in and out of my lungs. My chest burned and my face was numb with fear.
“I will always protect you, Jennifer.” He clenched his jaw then and I could tell he was damn near grinding his teeth with anger. “Even from myself.”
I shook my head no, pulled at his shirt, buried my face to his neck and tried to breathe. Gil smoothed circles over my back in a circular motion and my body warmed with his touch. He kissed my hair, my brow and said, “Focus on just letting all that fear go. Push the tension away. Take a breath and hold it. Count to four, let your body reboot.”
He tucked my hair behind my ears and kissed my nose. “Ready? Let’s do it together.”
I nodded, relishing that kiss. Feeling his warm lips on my face. Gil sucked in a breath and so did I. It felt shallow and useless. Like I needed air down to my toes and could only get it to my hips. I wanted to panic but didn’t. I focused on Gil. He flashed his fingers at me as we held our breath. One, two, three, four and then we exhaled, long deep, exaggerated exhales that blew all the stale air from our bodies. I wanted to say no, not to protect me from him but he shook his head no when I opened my mouth and he said, “Again.”
So we did it again, until my heart slowed its race and my body stopped tingling and my lips no longer felt numb. “Don’t protect me from you,” I said with a weak small voice. “I can’t breathe without you,” I said and my body ached with my own honesty. It scared me telling that kind of truth.
“Fuck,” he said. And the fear was back. But when he said it he was studying me. Watching me like I would bloom before his eyes.
I touched his belt buckle, ran my finger over the warm flat of his belly and he grabbed my face in his big hands and pulled me in, kissing me. His tongue hot and eager, his fingers in my hair, his cock hard under my fingers. “I’m going to hell,” he said.
“If you are then I’ll be with you,” I said, tugging at his buckle.
He barked out a laugh and stilled my hand. Still looking torn and worried and protective of me. “Jen.”
“Let me. Please, Gil. Please be with me. Love me,” I said, more truth opening my soul like a wound. And now he could reject me. Hurt me more surely than anyone ever had including my mother.
“I already love you,” he said, touching my face, stroking my cheek.
“Love me with your body,” I whispered. My throat so clogged with fear and emotion I could barely swallow.
He shook his head--one short hard shake--and my heart broke, but then he tugged at my tee and yanked it over my head. Fingers on the front clasp of my bra, hands on my waist and in a heartbeat, his mouth closed over my nipple and my body hummed to life. A surge of joy and need ripped through me, it stole my breath all over again.
I didn’t say anything, I was afraid to. Afraid that if I spoke, even his name, I’d break the spell and he’s stop.
His belt buckle yielded to my gripping fingers and I groped at him, both greedy and desperate for the feel of him under my naked fingers. I grasped his cock and he pressed into me, making my breath stutter and flutter in my chest. “God, Jen,” is all he said and I smiled. I gripped him harder and is fingers found my skin, my folds, my pussy and he sank them into me. One thrust of his warm fingers seated his flesh within mine and I threw my head back, tears streaming from the outer edges of my eyes, heart shaking like it would rattle apart in my chest.
“Right there,” I said as some kind of encouragement. “Right there.” But right there was not enough. For either of us. And we tussled with each other, wrestling against one another in our efforts to get closer. It ended with a pile of clothes by the bedroom door. I laid back on the big, fancy bed and pulled Gil over me, kissing him with an urgency I could never explain.
“Last chance,” he said, looking down into my face. His hands held my wrists flush to the mattress, his strength making me wetter, making me want him that much more.
“For what?” I asked, moving my hips so I rubbed against him.
His face warred between need and regret and I kissed his forearm, ran my tongue over his wrist where his pulse beat.
“To change your mind,” Gil said, lowering his chest to me so that my breasts mashed to his warm skin. We both stopped breathing for a moment. I had never been naked in front of him. It felt both bizarre and natural.
“I don’t want to change my mind.” I let my legs fall open just a bit more so he could feel the moist heat of me. Gil shut his eyes, looking tortured and beautiful.
“Me either.”
I gave him one short nod and took him in hand. I ran the tip of his cock to the wet entrance of me and when he growled deep in his throat, my pussy clenched up, my heart too, and I moved up to take him in.
Gil gritted his teeth, surged into me and thrust deep so I sighed. “I didn’t think--” I stopped myself, shook my head, my voice lost in a spiral of unshed tears.
Gil moved in me, rocking against me, his hot skin pressed to my hot skin. His hips slamming my hips, the bones smacking and my clit singing with the pressure of each thrust. “What? Tell me.” His teeth found my neck and he gently bit a line of marks, like soldiers lined up in a row.
“I never thought it would act
ually happen.” I tried to move my hands and he held me flat, pinned me flush to the plum colored duvet.
“Stay still,” he said, pushing his lips to my collar bone, licking over my salty skin, his breath whispering in my ear. “You never thought this would happen?”
I shook my head, the first fat drops of tears slipping from the corners of my eyes as I frantically swallowed to try and not cry like an idiot. He licked the tears from my cheeks and his cock filled me, stretching me so that my breath felt too big and my body too small. “No. Never.”
“But you wanted it to?” His eyes found mine for a moment and he looked intrigued but puzzled.
“I’ve fantasized about it for years,” I admitted. I had to force each word over my lips so I could confess to him. He needed to know.
“You have?” He looked away when I stared at him and his mouth found my nipple again, kissing and sucking as his hands left my wrists, found my hips, held me down. Gil fucked me harder and I wrapped my legs around his lean waist and moved up to meet him, the first swirl of orgasm dancing in my womb, filling my pelvis with pleasurable heat.
“I have. You haven’t?”
He didn’t answer me. He buried his face to my shoulder and his thrusts grew more eager, more frantic. I held his waist because he’d let my hands free. My fingertips danced along his soft skin and I held him close until my patience shattered and my pussy grew tighter and before I came I wanted to know. I made him look at me. I kissed him. I said, “Gil, did you? Ever?”
He nodded once, a fierce almost angry nod and then he was coming, his admission pushing him past the edge and he bit my breast, right above the nipple and that was enough to push me straight into my own release so that I was falling with him. A perfect downward spiral of bliss.
Chapter 11
I woke when I heard the basement door and felt Gil stiffen behind me. His arm tightened around my waist like he was protecting me and I realized I was hearing Carl come in. Carl who had fucked Tammy. Carl who was going to get his ass kicked if he ran into Gil. Gil sat up as if to go and I pulled his arm gently.