by Roya Carmen
“Where’s Magnum?”
“Oh, he’s with Sarah.”
“Who’s Sarah?”
“My ex-girlfriend. When we split up, we decided to share custody.”
I wondered where this Sarah lived, and what she looked like. I imagined an older version of Izzie. I wondered why they’d broken up. I wanted to ask, but I’d been nosy enough for one day.
I spotted Dean Koontz’s Sole Survivor on his bookshelf, and stood to go inspect it closer. I held the hardcover in my hands, and carefully flipped through the pages. “Wasn’t this a great book?”
He smiled. “Sure was. You’re a Dean Koontz fan?”
“For sure.”
“You seem young to be reading him.”
I cleared my throat. “Not that young,” I almost purred. I shook my head, appalled at myself. I was obviously spending way too much time with Izzie.
I tucked the book back in its place, and studied the knick knacks on the shelves, amongst which were an old signed baseball, photos and a glass jar full of coins.
“So….” I said, at a loss for words.
“So….” he repeated.
I smiled shyly.
“Tell me something I don’t know,” he said, urging me to confide all my deepest secrets. I’ve never enjoyed talking about myself so I was at a complete loss for words.
“Cat got your tongue?” he teased.
I’m not sure what possessed me to say this, but my next words were, “I got my first period a few weeks ago.”
He froze and blanched for a beat, but recuperated fairly quickly. “Uh… that’s interesting, I guess. So how about them Red Sox?”
I was mortified. Why in the hell would I tell him that. “I… I was just telling you because Izzie’s mom made a whole big deal out of it. We had a ‘celebration of my womanhood.’”
He laughed out loud. “Right…”
“We had cheese and crackers and grapes.”
He shook his head, and offered me his hand. “Congratulations on your womanhood.”
“And… uh, congratulations on your manhood, I guess.”
He laughed out loud, and when he finally settled, he walked away, shoulders hunched, head still shaking. Finally, he turned back to me. “Um… well, thanks a lot for the muffins, kid. You should probably go.”
“Uh… I thought we’d just established that I am, in fact, not a kid anymore.”
He cracked up again, laughing at my expense. “Oh… yes… I forgot. You’ve been officially ordained into womanhood. Congrats again.” He took a few steps toward me and patted my back. He then signaled to the door. He couldn’t wait for me to leave, and I was completely heartbroken.
Why the heck did I tell him that? I asked myself over and over again on the way back home. I stomped onto the porch, swung the door open, flung my sneakers at the wall, trudged to my bedroom, and flopped down on my bed. Of course I knew why I had told him that.
I wanted him to know that I wasn’t just a kid anymore.
I was a woman.
I’m painting my toes pink for work. It’s not something I do often, but since it’s sandals season and I actually have a job now, I figured I should make the effort.
I’m miffed when I mess up and get some polish on the tip of my big toe. I reach for the polish remover, and the doorbell buzzes. Now, I’m even more annoyed, wondering who it could be. The neighbors here are pretty friendly, too friendly, one might say. Mrs. Moore is single like myself, and she’s always going away on vacation. And who looks after her cat? Me, of course. I love that cat, but… And then there’s Mrs. Rogers who is always bringing me baked goods. She reminds me of myself when I was a kid.
I plaster on a forced smile before I open the door. I’m absolutely breathless when I see him. He looks completely wrecked.
“Come in, Noah.”
He brushes past me, and leans back against the wall. “I’m so sorry, Abby.”
I close the door behind us, extremely confused. “For what?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
His words warm my heart, my whole being. I want to scream that I’ve felt the same this past week, but for some reason I don’t quite understand, I don’t say a word.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he goes on.
“I am. I’m fine, Noah.”
“I didn’t expect this to happen. I’d forgotten how—”
In a sudden completely unexpected move, he presses me hard against the wall, and my heart lodges in my throat. I’m taken aback by his aggression, by his unexpected behavior, but I adore every second of it, every chill he sends down my spine, every delicious tingle down below.
He runs his hot mouth against the length of my neck, and I completely melt into him, utterly hopeless. “You’re still so beautiful,” he whispers.
I close my eyes and enjoy the warmth of his breath against my skin. I forget all about the sweats and ratty t-shirt I’m wearing, and the half-painted toenails. The last man who made me feel this wanted was Gavin.
I run my hands along his jaw, and rub the prickly stubble on the pads of my fingers. My mouth searches for his, and as our lips find each other’s, we get completely lost in the moment. His mouth tastes sweet, and his skin smells deliciously masculine. And up close against me, he feels so large, so overpowering. I’m overwhelmed by the delicious sensations traveling through every inch of my core, every single cell of my body. My desire is powerful, all-consuming, and unexpected. I’ve never been so responsive to a man in my life.
His mouth tears away from mine, and I look into his eyes, and for a brief moment, I see so much there; lust of course, but also pain and confusion. Why is this so hard for him? What has made him afraid to love?
13
I won’t hurt you, I want to tell him, but the only sounds escaping my lips are desperate moans.
He slides his head down my chest, and pulls up my ratty t-shirt. My breasts are bare, and when he takes one in his mouth, I throw my head back, sinking into the pleasure of it.
“Fuck, every inch of you is beautiful,” he mouths into my skin and drops to his knees. I rake my hands through his hair, wanting more.
And he doesn’t disappoint. With a fervor I didn’t know he possessed, he tears down the band of my sweats and takes my panties along for the ride. He then hastily peels my bare foot out of one pant leg.
A single word escapes me. “Fuck…”
He slides a hand down the inside of my thigh and presses it against the wall. I’m teetering on one leg, holding on to his head with both hands.
“I want to taste you so badly, Abby,” he breathes. “Can I taste you?”
“Yes…” I say, the word a desperate whimper. I’m pulsing in anticipation of his tongue on my sex, and when he finally slides it slowly up my sweet spot, I fully surrender and wrap my leg over his shoulder. He presses his mouth harder, deeper into me. I moan loudly, my head thrown back. It feels so good, and he’s going to take me there soon. Yet, I still want more. I want him inside me. I want to feel his desire for me.
I cradle his jaw, and pull him up to me.
“Abby?” he whispers and when I kiss him again, I can taste myself on his lips. I slide my hands down his shirt, eager to touch his skin. My fingers snake under the thin fabric of his pullover, and I groan when I make contact with the smooth, warm ridges of his abs. I crouch to the floor, and lick a slow line up his torso. The sound he makes arouses me so much, I get greedy. I swiftly undo his fly.
“Abby…” he whispers as I dig into his red boxers and take him into my hand. He’s everything I imagined, everything I wanted.
“Fuck, Abby…”
I look up at him, and shoot him a playful grin. “Your cock is beautiful,” I whisper, “and it’s all mine.”
A hint of a smile traces his lips. “Yes, it is.”
He tears my hand away from his erection and kneels down to the floor. With a delicate touch, he pulls the other leg of my sweats, freeing my other foot. He kisses it once
. Twice.
I laugh, but my laughter fades when he wraps his arms under my ass and pushes me against the wall again. I wrap my legs around his hips.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “I need a condom.”
I close my eyes. Yes, he does. I wish he could just sink into me now, and fuck me bare.
“Go,” I say quietly. “I’ll leave the door open, and wait for you in my bed.”
He reluctantly pulls from me, and dashes out as fast as humanly possible. I bury my face in my hands. What are we doing?
I pull off my t-shirt, and slide under the sheets. I wonder if I should put on something sexy for him, but before I have a chance to mull it over too long, he’s back, shirtless, his fly still undone, the red of his boxers peeking out, begging me to rip them apart.
I grab his arm and pull him down to me. The weight of him is delicious, and makes me feel protected… loved. Yet, I know this isn’t love. It’s nothing but lust, a merging of bodies, but as I get lost in his kiss, it feels like so much more. My gut tells me we are connected in more ways than this. We belong with each other. The higher powers have intersected our paths because we were meant to be.
His hot mouth runs across my collarbone, around my breast and down the length of my stomach. When he reaches the spot right below my navel, I almost lose it. “I want you inside,” I cry.
His wicked mouth travels back up my body. “Well, what do you mean exactly, Abby?” he teases. “I want to hear you say it.”
A long sigh escapes me. He’s one of those. One of those guys who’s into delayed gratification and enjoys teasing, the kind of lover who likes to hear you beg.
I bite my bottom lip, suddenly shy, my heart beating a mile a minute. “I want you… “ I say, breathless, “to fuck me.” There, I said it. Fuck me.
He travels down and grabs my hips, and in one swift move, he flips me on my front. The sheets are cool against my face, and I feel completely exposed. “And how would you like to be fucked, baby?”
I moan into my pillow. “So polite…”
He grabs my ass and pulls me up against him. “You like it like this, Abby? You like to be taken from behind?”
Yes… I moan into my pillow, my pussy aching for him. So cruel.
He slides a finger up my sex. “You’re so wet, baby.”
“C’mon, Noah,” I beg. “Stop teasing.”
He presses his mouth against my lower back and kisses me softly. “Okay… enough. I’m going to lose my mind if I don’t…”
I hear the rip of the condom wrapper, and I close my eyes in anticipation. Before long, I feel him press against me and I eagerly guide him along. As he sinks slowly into me, careful not to hurt me, I press myself deeper against his hips, wanting all of him. My core warms, and my eager body aches for that release.
I can feel him losing control as he pushes into me harder, faster. I love every second of it, and revel in the feel of him inside me as he brings me closer with every thrust.
My hands grip the sheets when I finally reach my release. I lose all inhibitions as my cries fill the room.
“Fuck, I love hearing you,” Noah groans and pushes into me harder as I’m still climaxing. I feel his release as he tenses into me, and I hear his pleasure as he muffles his groans against my back.
When we both come to, I turn to him and smile shyly.
He grins back. “I think I might be madly in love with you,” he whispers, before kissing me again.
Izzie and I would often lie on my bed, and just stare at the ceiling, not a care in the world. My room was very boyish. There was hardly any indication that a girl slept there. A baseball and gloves, and boyish clothing were scattered here and there. That’s what happens when you grow up with two older brothers, and are forced to wear their hand-me downs. If my mother had been alive, she would have never let me wear boy clothes. Hockey cards were stuck all over the wall because I was a huge Blackhawks fan. My bed was always unmade. The dresser drawers were permanently opened, clothing hanging over the edges.
I turned on my side to face Izzie. “So are you going to show me what’s in that bag?”
She smiled playfully. “Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”
I stared down at the oversize pink purse she’d stolen from her mom. She was hiding something in there and she had yet to show me. “C’mon, Izzie. Stop being such a tease.”
I reached for the bag and grabbed it before she could stop me. I’d expected something juicy, something very inappropriate, of a sexual nature, but not this. “What?”
The handcuffs were shiny, and my bedroom light fixture was reflected in them. I fished in the purse and found the accompanying key. “What are you doing with these? Where did you get these?”
She smiled playfully. “Under my parents’ bed. They’re into all kinds of kinky shit.”
I didn’t follow her for a second, until I remembered that yes, some couples like to play cop and robber in the bedroom. I wondered who played the cop. Adele or Bobby? I pictured them for an unfortunate second or two. “You’re not handcuffing me to anything.”
“No, no. Not you, silly… Jimmy McNaughton.”
Izzie never considered herself fat before Jimmy made that remark. Now she found herself staring at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, all the while plotting her revenge.
“So this is the plan. We’ll go over to his place and ask him if he wants to hang out. He’ll say yes because he has this huge crush on me.” She sighed, as if this was such a hardship. “Then we’ll head to the forest behind the sand dunes and we’ll grab him. I’ll be in charge of cuffing him to the tree.”
I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.
“Do you think you can handle that?” she asked me.
“Um… I guess… I think so.” I thought this was all a little too much, but I did hate Jimmy, and agreed that he had it coming. “Then what? Are we just going to leave him there?”
Izzie shrugged. “Sure. Someone will find him sooner or later. Lots of people walk by there.”
Jimmy McNaughton was watching television when we knocked on his door. He seemed surprised to see us, and couldn’t take his eyes off Izzie. Of course, he agreed to go hang out with us when Izzie asked him, batting her eyelashes ever so slightly. He seemed a little confused by Izzie’s sudden interest in him but he didn’t question it too much.
Jimmy walked between the two of us with a bounce in his step. “Let’s go see what Steph is up to.” Jimmy and Steph had been good friends since kindergarten. They were best buddies.
“No, no. Let’s just hang out. Just the three of us,” Izzie insisted. She had the cuffs hidden in her pink backpack, which Jimmy failed to notice. He was much too preoccupied with Izzie’s short shorts and skimpy little halter top.
Izzie fiddled with her ponytail as she often did when she was up to no good. “Let’s go to the sand dunes and watch the bikes.”
We made our way to the sand dunes which were hidden right behind the park. There were always dirt bikes climbing the hills and kids sledding in the winter. There were also parties in the summer, older kids drinking and doing weed. It was nature’s amusement park.
The dunes were quiet that day, and we walked up and ventured into the forest behind.
Izzie lingered behind us. “Let’s go pick some blueberries,” she suggested. I was very hesitant to go forward but sisterly love motivated me. Being called fat was the ultimate insult, and he deserved what was coming to him.
As we neared a tree, Izzie jumped him, grabbed him from behind and shoved him to the ground. He could have easily defended himself, if only he had been prepared. “So you think I’m fat, hey? What do you think of me now, loser?”
She had her arms tight around him. He was struggling and making some progress when I jumped in and restrained him while Izzie cuffed him. She fiddled nervously with the cuffs, pulling him against the tree. I helped wrap his arms around the tree while she held him against it. He bit her, and she screamed at the top of her lungs.
“
You slut,” he scoffed. “I hate you.”
He was cuffed.
Izzie fixed her ponytail which had completely fallen apart in the commotion. “Jimmy. This is because you called me fat. You deserve it,” Izzie told him, not wanting to seem like a complete monster. Then she wiped her face with the back of her hand, satisfied.
“Now one more thing...” she said, catching her breath. She turned to me. “Drop his pants....underwear too.”
Jimmy was scared. He was holding back tears. He was helpless, and I’m sure he didn’t want us to see him with his pants down. “C’mon, Izz. We’re friends,” he pleaded.
“No way,” I argued. “I’m not doing it.”
“You’re such a wuss, Abby. Sometimes I wonder why we’re even friends.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal, Izzie. You never told me about this part.”
“I don’t care. Do it.”
“You’re sick. I’m not doing it.”
Jimmy was still sweating bullets. “She’s right, Izzie. It’s sick.”
“I don’t care, she has to do it.”
I walked away. “I’m not doing it.”
“Fine, I’ll do it then.”
“Fuck,” I heard Jimmy wail, and I knew she had done it. I never turned back. I didn’t want to add to Jimmy’s humiliation or Izzie’s satisfaction.
“That’ll teach you to call me fat, skinny little loser,” Izzie scoffed and ran to catch up with me, but I outran her.
“Fine, you little bitch,” she called out. “We’re done.”
“Fine by me,” I bit back.
Apparently later that day, some older kids found Jimmy with his pants down. The gossip spread like a bad flu in January, and the news was all over the park. The cops had to be called in to free him. I’m sure it must have been completely humiliating for him, and I wonder if he carried this traumatic experience with him into adulthood. The punishment certainly did not fit the crime.
On the plus side, Izzie got caught and found herself in some serious trouble. We were both brought into the police station and both balled our eyes out. They let me off easy because Jimmy had told them that I was an unwilling participant. There was some talk about juvenile detention and a harsh scolding from her dad. She was also grounded for a month. I was secretly thrilled because she deserved it.