by Amali Rose
SKYE: I think I’d like that a lot.
BEN: Fuck, you want it rough?
SKYE: I want it every way with you.
BEN: Oh, we are going to have some fun, baby.
Friday
BEN: Be ready at 11am, okay? And wear something comfortable that you can move around in.
SKYE: Okay.
BEN: Also,
SKYE: Yeah?
BEN: Wear black lace panties.
It’s Saturday morning and I am scrambling to get ready for my date with Ben while my nerves beat a terrified drum in my chest. This past week we have messaged constantly, with our missives getting progressively more intimate, so I thought I knew what to expect today. Dinner and then a few hours being made dirty by this man whose mouth can make me wet with just a few simple words. But when he told me to be ready at 11am it threw me for a loop and I’m now feeling totally unprepared. Not to mention, a tad disappointed that I might not be getting to partake in the bedroom rodeo (ah Cassidy would be so proud) tonight.
The buzzer sounds, surprising me, and I let out a little squeak. Pressing the intercom, I tell Ben I’ll be right down. As I gather all my gear I catch sight of the beautiful bouquet of pink roses and cherry blossoms that he sent me on Wednesday, sitting atop my small dining table. The exquisite mix of pink and white flowers are absolutely gorgeous and the sight of them immediately calms my nerves. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and take a few moments to center myself before moving toward the door.
Racing down the stairs, I burst through the door and am met by Ben, in all his glorious deliciousness, standing on the sidewalk. Looking casual in a pair of black basketball shorts and a gray sleeveless t-shirt with a pair of black sneakers on his feet, I’m tempted to call uncle and just beg him to take me upstairs so we can live out some of the fantasies we’ve talked about this week.
“You okay there, babe?” Ben questions, drawing my attention while my face flames in embarrassment at getting caught perving on this man.
I hastily reply with a quick, “Yep.”
Leaning over and placing a gentle but firm kiss on my lips, Ben tells me that I look beautiful. Glancing down dismissively at my yoga pants and pink tank, I’m about to give a smartass reply when I glance up and see the heat in his eyes. Okay, maybe I might still get lucky today.
“So, where are we headed?” I ask. “You’re being very enigmatic about today.”
“You’ll see, pipsqueak, let’s walk.” And with that, he takes off up the block, and I have to run to keep up with him.
“Pipsqueak?” I question as a memory lingers on the periphery of my consciousness, just out of reach. “Yeah that’s not going to work for me,” I say as I catch up to him.
“Have you seen you, Skye? You’re fucking tiny. Plus, you make this little sound whenever my mouth gets anywhere near you. It kind of starts out as a squeak then turns into a gasp. Fucking sexy as hell.”
Okay, so maybe pipsqueak will work for me.
As we walk toward destination unknown, we chat about random stuff, and I can’t help but notice how easy this is. There have been no games from this man at all. Since day one he’s been straightforward and upfront with me. I’ve never had to guess what he’s thinking or if he’s interested. I honestly didn’t think men like this existed. My experience consisted of lying assholes who tried to manipulate me to get their own way. If I was going to fall for someone, it would be a guy like Ben. Now, I just need to find a way to resist him. Though, I have a feeling that will be easier said than done.
Twenty minutes later, we stop in front of a building that I don’t recognize, which is odd since it’s on my route to work; I must walk past it every day. It’s a nondescript shop front with a sign proclaiming VERTICAL REALITY CLIMBING, and I feel my jaw drop in horror.
“This is what you meant when you were asking if I was adventurous and afraid of heights?” I query.
“Yep. See, I wasn’t being dirty at all. Maybe I’m not the only pervert here,” he replies with a cheeky grin.
I’m quiet as I try to process what he’s expecting me to do, but apparently Ben takes this as acquiescence and, taking hold of my hand, pulls me inside.
As we enter, my fears are not allayed in any way. Immediately to our right is a huge room with three massive walls painted in a myriad of colors and containing what seems like thousands of tiny little things protruding from them. There’s no way they are big enough for a hand to hold or a foot to stand on, and yet I fear that is indeed their purpose.
“I thought you were prepared to give anything a go?” Ben questions, and as he tries to contain his laughter I wonder if it’s too soon in this relationship to punch him in the face.
Little does he know, I happen to have a stubborn streak as wide as the Grand Canyon, and he’s just kicked it into gear.
“Let’s go, baby cakes. Try to keep up with me, okay?” I throw over my shoulder as I make my way to the front desk.
A short while later we have completed the necessary paperwork and are standing in front of the beginner’s wall (beginner's wall my ass, I think) in harnesses, while a very enthusiastic Kane (“but you can call me K-dog”) walks us through the safety instructions and gives us an extensive list of do’s and don’ts. My stomach is churning with nerves and for the first time in a month, they have nothing to do with the man standing beside me. But damned if I’ll let him see how anxious I am.
“Are you sure you want to do this, Squeak?” I look up and see only sincerity in Ben’s eyes. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. I kind of wanted to impress you, so I googled interesting date ideas and this seemed like a fun one. But now that I’m standing here, it seems like a very bad idea.” I watch him as he makes this confession and my heart steps up a beat at the vulnerability he’s allowing me to witness. He actually cared enough about this date to research it and he’s now prepared to admit it may have been a mistake, just so I’m not forced to do something I don’t want to. No way will I step all over his plans and make him feel like they are anything less than perfect.
“Are you kidding me? This is freaking awesome! Let’s do this shit!” I gaze up at the wall and pray for the strength to pull this off.
“Oh my god, that was incredible! We have to do that again!” I am gushing as we leave the building an hour later. Sweaty and sore, nothing can thwart the high I’m feeling from the adrenaline coursing through my veins at this moment. I am completely exhilarated and ready to throw Ben down right here on the sidewalk and ride him like the grateful cowgirl I am. Instead, I throw myself into his arms and he catches me in a hug, squeezing me tight.
“So, you liked it then?” he responds with a laugh.
“Are you serious right now? What about you? How did you like it?”
“It was definitely a good workout. My arms are going to be killing me tomorrow, but it was a lot of fun. Although, I think I enjoyed hearing you whisper I think I can, I think I can, over and over again the most.”
I’m pretty sure I die a little inside when I realize that he heard me repeat the mantra from my favorite children’s book The Little Engine That Could, and I hide my face in his chest as he laughs at my embarrassment.
“Okay, next stop, lunch. Let’s go.” Ben takes hold of my hand, lacing his fingers with mine and we take off on foot.
“I’m not going to need to work out for the rest of the week after today, you’re wearing me out,” I say as my legs try to keep up with his much longer ones.
“Pace yourself, Squeak, we’ve still got the night to get through.” He throws a sexy smirk my way as he pulls my hand up to his lush mouth and plants a kiss on it. And with that promise of what the night will bring, we continue our walk in comfortable silence. Once again, I am oblivious to our destination, but the subtle anticipation that Ben has provoked, combined with the intoxication that his scent evokes is keeping me in a state of bliss that renders me incapable of caring.
I’m so caught up in examining the notes of Ben’s masculine smell, and try
ing to figure out why it’s such a turn on, that I don’t even notice the direction we are headed. Not until I look up and see that we are stopped in front of the beautiful leaf-embossed entrance to the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens. My heart drops. This place holds the most bittersweet memories for me. The last time I was here was the worst day of my life, until it was redeemed in the sweetest possible way.
Noticing that I’ve stopped in my tracks, Ben looks down at me, pulls me in close and says quietly, “This is one of my favorite places. Every time I come here, I’m reminded of a time that I had lost hope, and this is where, with a bit of help, I found it again. I wanted to bring you here because it’s probably the most special place to me.” With those simple words, I have never been so glad to be standing somewhere.
Reaching up on my tippy toes, I place a soft kiss on his lips. Ben steps closer, pulling me flush to his body and cupping the back of my head, his tongue lightly licks along the seam of my lips, seeking entrance. A slight groan escapes me and Ben is quick to take advantage. Slipping his tongue in my mouth, he deepens the kiss and my whole body alights with desire. Suddenly remembering where we are, I pull away and laugh lightly.
“You promised me food. Time to feed me, baby cakes.”
He groans loudly at my use of this endearment. “So that’s sticking, huh?”
Slapping a hand on his chest, I reply, “You get pipsqueak, I get baby cakes, it’s your call.”
Ben pauses, considering this, and finally retorts, “You know what? Baby cakes is suddenly growing on me. It makes me sound so masculine and virile, how could I not love it, Squeak?”
“Ugh, c’mon!” I drag him toward the ticket window. After getting our tickets, Ben leads the way inside and immediately heads toward Cherry Esplanade. As we approach, the memories assault me, however, I try my best to ignore them and stay in the moment, appreciating what Ben is sharing with me.
Coming to a stop he pulls his backpack off his shoulder, opens it up and pulls out a blanket. “This looks like the perfect spot, what do you think?” he asks.
“Perfect,” I agree and as he smooths the blanket on the ground and pulls out some sandwiches from his bag, I muse out loud, “Well, you certainly came prepared.”
He winks at me in a surprisingly non-douchey way and says, “You ain’t seen nothing yet.” Then with a flourish that would make a veteran game show hostess proud, he presents me with two Twinkies. I give him a slow clap and declare his moves very impressive. Laughing, he takes a bow before sitting down on the blanket and motioning for me to do the same.
Looking at the sandwiches, I place a hand on my heart and say, “Aw, did you cook for me, Mackinnon? You are such a catch.”
“Hey, don’t knock it. Not everyone can make a great PB&J, it requires skill and a steady hand. Luckily for you, I have both. And I’m not just talking about my sandwich making.”
“Lame. You may need to work on your dirty talk as much as your cooking.”
“Ouch.” Ben clutches his chest. “You wound me. Thank god I have supreme confidence in my dirty-talking talents. For example, I know that tonight when I have my face buried between your thighs and I’m eating you out like you’re my last meal, tongue fucking your delicious cunt, you’re going to be completely satisfied with my skills.”
My sandwich stops its path to my mouth and a sheen of sweat breaks out across my brow. Okay, yeah, the man’s got mad skills, and I can’t wait to experience them when I’m wearing considerably less clothing.
Deciding I need to change the subject if I want to make it through this afternoon with my panties intact, I ask him why these gardens are so meaningful to him. Ben’s eyes lose focus slightly and I can almost feel the sadness rolling off him.
“When I was fifteen, my mom passed away, it was an intense time. Dad was struggling and it was incredibly hard to see him in so much pain. I was trying to cope with everything, but I was so angry. Angry at Mom for dying, angry at Dad for forgetting me in his own grief, and so fucking guilty for feeling that way. Then to top it all off, I found out we were moving; my father was taking us back to Connecticut where he grew up. He needed to be closer to his parents and sister, and I understood that. But at the time, it was the final straw. I felt like my entire world was collapsing. Then on my last day at school we came here on a field trip. I got paired up with this girl. We didn’t know each other and I guess that made it easier to confide in her. I told her all the things that I felt too ashamed to admit to anyone else. Afterward she said to me—”
“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t let your mother’s death define you. Let her life inspire you.” Ben’s eyes widen as I repeat the words I said to him all those years ago.
2003
The chaotic sounds of teenagers echo around the school bus, but it’s all white noise to me as I keep my gaze focused firmly out the window. I managed to snag a seat at the front of the bus so I could have it all to myself and I have diligently avoided my friends all morning. The last thing I feel like doing today is putting on a happy face and pretending it is a day like any other.
As my teacher, Ms. O’Brien, drones on about rules and expectations, I zone out again until my attention is abruptly drawn to the space next to me, where a boy I don’t recognize has flopped down onto the seat. I glare at the side of his head, angry that he has burst my bubble of solitude, however, he keeps his eyes forward and ignores me. Well, two can play at that game. I go back to disregarding everyone and anything around me.
As the bus takes off I allow the movement to sooth my nerves and lull me into a semi-conscious state. I slept poorly last night, the tears flowing relentlessly as I replayed the words of my parents over and over, helpless to stop the pain they inflict. What feels like only minutes later, I am jostled awake by the bus coming to a stop in front of the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens, and I look up to find my seat mate staring at me. He looks slightly older than I am, with closely-cropped brown hair and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses covering his brown eyes, and I wonder how I’ve never seen him before and what he’s doing on this field trip. I’m fairly certain he’s not in any of the attending classes, but I don’t get a chance to ask.
“You snore,” he says quietly. Before I can respond, Ms. O’Brien is addressing the group.
“Okay, kids, you will be working in pairs today to complete your worksheets. Stay with the group and make sure you are always within sight of a teacher or chaperone. We have two hours and to make this easy your partner will be whoever you are sitting next to. Right, file out in an orderly fashion and collect your worksheet from Mr. Simmons.”
My head is spinning. I can’t believe I have to spend the next couple of hours playing nice with this stranger. He stands up and heads to the front of the bus and I reluctantly follow him. Five minutes later we have collected our paperwork and are standing at the entrance as students mill around laughing and shouting, enjoying themselves as if they don’t have a care in the world. Meanwhile my broken heart has created an intense ache in my chest that I can’t imagine ever going away.
“I’m Mack.”
Looking up at my partner I try to give him a smile but I know it comes out more like a grimace. I also can’t bring myself to care. “Skylah,” I reply shortly.
“Well, Skylah, you look about as happy as I am to be here, so what do you say we get this over with as quickly as possible so we can go back to dwelling on our own misery like good teenagers should?”
For the first time in twenty-four hours I feel a small smile grace my lips. “That sounds like an excellent plan. Where do we start?”
“Let’s head this way,” he replies, pointing straight ahead. “I think the worksheet follows the path, so we should find everything we need pretty quickly.” I nod my head in agreement. I’m all for getting this done as quick as possible.
We spend the next hour speeding through the worksheet while everyone else meanders all over the place, taking their time and enjoying their freedom from the confines of the school walls. Mack has prove
n to be a bit of a brainiac, and I have to admit, I’m curious as to why I’ve never seen him before.
We come upon Cherry Esplanade and in unspoken agreement we sit down under the beautiful blooming cherry blossom trees and fall into an easy silence. We’re sitting right next to each other, so close that our hands are nearly touching and my heart picks up speed. Inwardly, I curse myself for this reaction. If last night taught me anything, it’s that love and relationships are a waste of time and will only end in pain. While the last hour has been a distraction, my thoughts now return to the events of the previous night. So, in a desperate attempt to deflect my attention, I reach out to Mack, hoping that hearing about his silly overblown teenage angst will do the job.
“So, why are you so miserable then?” I ask.
Mack turns and looks me directly in the eye, assessing me, as if deciding whether I’m worthy of hearing his news. I have to suppress an eye roll. Please, as if I really care about whatever petty bullshit he has going on.
After pausing for a beat, Mack looks away and gazes up at the flowering branches above us.
“My mom died.” And with those three words, my problems fade into insignificant oblivion.
My silence feels deafening as I run through a million things I could say, all the while knowing nothing could ever possibly help.
“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’re trying to think of the perfect thing, it’s what everyone does. Then they spew some cliché bullshit and I have to pretend to be grateful. Silence is better.” His eyes remain fixed upward, but from my position I can see the watery sheen they take on and my heart breaks a little for this boy who has lost more than even I could imagine.
“Do you want to talk about it? You’re right, I have no idea what to say, there’s nothing I can say that will help, but I can listen.”
He remains silent and I take that as my answer. I should probably get up and leave him alone, give him some space, but I just can’t bring myself to leave him. So, I sit there and let the hum of the birds above soothe us.