Take It - Part Two

by DJ Stone

  “Don’t you think it’s kind of fast?” I ask, trying to catch my breath as I wiggle out of her tight embrace.

  “That’s how the most epic love stories begin. It’s about taking risks and opening your heart to the right people. Pierce is the right kind of people, I can feel it in my bones.” My mother’s eyes well with tears and some choice words almost hop from my mouth, but I catch them. I’m done dumping my anger on her. I nearly ask if she felt the same way about my father before he destroyed her. Instead I bite my tongue, quite literally, until it hurts.

  “I’m hoping it works out. Pierce has been adamant about us taking it slow. Now all of a sudden he’s asking me to move in with him. My compass hasn’t been pointing me in the right direction lately. I don’t trust myself.”

  “Then trust my judgment and do it. Men like Pierce don’t come along every day, and you deserve to be taken care of. It’s what I always wanted for you.”

  “I don’t really want to be taken care of, Mom. You know that. Taking care of myself has always been important to me. I feel like I’m losing sight of that. It scares me.”

  “Every now and then we have to be vulnerable and trust the people in our lives to help. And sweetie, if it doesn’t work out, though I know it will, you can always come back.” She kisses the top of my head, making me feel like a child. “Oh he’s here,” she squeaks as Pierce’s truck pulls in the driveway.

  Looking at my bags by the door, I feel hopeful. Being cared for, starting something new with a guy, who by all accounts is actually interested in my well-being. I love my mother, but being in this house isn’t helping me move on. If anything it’s rooting me to the past.

  “Ready to go?” Pierce asks, and I can see his enthusiasm is forced. He looks exhausted, and now I’m feeling terrible.

  “Are you okay?” I analyze his face with a feeling of dread.

  “There was a three-alarm that had me up most of the night. Everything turned out fine though. No casualties, just a lot of work.”

  The smell of smoke is thick around him, and I see soot marks at his temples. His eyes are heavy, but the familiar twinkle is still there, fighting to glow through the exhaustion.

  “We don’t have to do this today,” I chime in, feeling immensely guilty for being a burden.

  “It’s no problem at all. We’ll load your stuff and get settled, then I’ll take a shower and crash for a couple hours. I can function on very little sleep.” Pierce is slinging my bags over his shoulder before I can talk him out of it.

  “Here,” My mother smiles as she hands me a brown paper bag, reminding me of mornings trying to catch the school bus. “I packed up some sandwiches. I thought you should have something to munch on.”

  “You’re too kind.” Pierce winks, seeming genuinely grateful for her ham and cheese sandwiches on rye with the crusts cut off.

  My things are loaded into Pierce’s truck, and I’m excited for this. Genuinely and thoroughly excited. Seeing Pierce in his tight T-shirt and gym shorts with his sleepy eyes and his short hair unkempt has turned up the heat I feel for him. Tonight when we’re settling into his bed and I’m seeking refuge in his arms, surely our primal instincts will take over and we’ll give in to the passion. It might not have me shrieking and shivering the way with Harrison did, but then again it might. I feel myself tingle as Pierce’s hand comes down on my thigh, and he looks at me with a sexy half smile.

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank you for this, Pierce. You’re a lifesaver.” Lacing my fingers in his, I pull his hand up toward my mouth and kiss the back of his hand, which smells smoky. He frees his hand from mine and runs it through my red locks and stops at my shoulder, his thumb moving up and down on my neck. I want him to say he can think of some ways for me to pay him back. I want to hear some innuendo and something sultry accompanied by his hand sliding down between my legs.

  When we pull into his small driveway he parks his truck outside a run-down garage. The house is older than I imagined, but it’s well-kept besides showing its age through a sagging porch and chipping paint.

  “I bought this place from my grandparents when they moved into a retirement home. I love it because it reminds me of my childhood. I spent every summer here, helping my grandfather around the house, fixing up old cars. We actually brought this truck back to life. It was our last project before he died.”

  “It’s a nice house and a beautiful truck. I’m sure you have great memories here.” I glance around the front yard, taking note of the yellow rose bushes that bring color and life to the otherwise tired-looking lot.

  Pierce has my bags slung over his shoulder and gestures for me to head into the house. Not too long ago I would have shoved him aside and insisted on carrying my own bags, but admittedly, there is something nice about him doing it. Have I been going about this all wrong? So many years spent adverse to help, walking the tight rope between self-sufficiency and being bitchy.

  “Can you grab my keys out of my pocket?” he asks, shifting the bag to the side so I can get a better angle. I lunge forward and slide my hand into the pocket of his gym shorts. His tense thigh and the silky mesh material are pumping with heat. I could easily move my hand inward and brush him erotically, forcing a blush and a giggle. Or, if I let my beastly desire out of its cage, I could grab a handful of him and gaze into his eyes until he was firm and throbbing within my grip.

  Instead I grab the keychain and follow his instruction to open the heavy red front door. Giving it an extra hard turn to the left and then a firm nudge with my shoulder, I push through the door with a huff.

  Bobbling into the living room, I steady myself on the back of the couch. It’s plush, and like the rest of this room, feels very inviting. It’s not the cold bachelor pad I feared but a well-put-together, cozy place.

  “Make yourself completely at home. The fridge usually has some decent stuff in it if I make it to the farmers market on Saturday. I’ll show you how to work the washing machine—the knob is broken, but once you learn the trick, it’s simple. Other than that poke around until you find what you’re looking for. I’m an open book, nothing to hide here.”

  I thought I’d feel strange. I assumed I’d get here and everything would come crashing down. But I’m looking forward to the new opportunities living here might bring. Maybe I can’t go back to my old field of work. Maybe the time I spent with Harrison will always be a spectacular and wondrous disaster, forever existing in my mind and heart, but real life is here. I can picture myself nestled up next to Pierce on the couch, binge-watching television, and eating some new recipe we tried together. With any luck it won’t be long before we’re framing a picture of us from the weekend trip we took to the beach and putting it up on the mantle above the fireplace.

  I never once saw any of those things happening with Harrison. Everything was the here and now, the sensations and the anticipation, but was there any real content to what we had? Just because the mere thought of him could send lightning bolts through my body doesn’t mean there was ever a chance for it to exist on this plane.

  “Should we break out your mom’s sandwiches? I have a dining room table, but I think I’ve eaten at it maybe twice. I usually just grab dinner while watching sports in the living room. Maybe you’re better with that stuff than I am.” Pierce opens the paper bag from my mother and grabs two plates and glasses.

  “Not really. I didn’t have a dining room table at my place. It was a glorified studio apartment but in a great location. I’m not domestic. I’m not a slob, but I wouldn’t call cooking and cleaning my fortes.

  “We all have our own strengths.” He shrugs, handing me a sandwich and gesturing to the table. “I wasn’t much of a mechanic either, but I kept at it with my granddad and eventually caught on. You know the old saying: anything you put your mind to.”

  “I’ve always wanted to better things. I constantly had my nose in a book and then switched the books out for case studies. I always wanted to be part of something that changed the world. I never re
ally saw my mother’s life make a contribution. She folded socks and made beds and look, she cut crust off sandwiches. Something about that always made me shy away from following in her footsteps.”

  “I hear what you’re saying, but look what her contributions really did for the world. They helped make and support you. Those sandwiches gave you the energy to apply yourself in school. That clean bed is where you crashed every night and recharged for the next day. She might not be in the limelight, but through your success she’s changed the world a little herself.” Pierce takes a big bite of the child-size sandwich and stops chewing suddenly when I smile widely at him.

  “I really don’t know how you do it. How are you this perfect? You really challenge me to look at things with new perspective. You’re so kind, and your job—you’re a hero for a living. Why in the world would a guy like you want anything to do with me?”

  “Don’t do that. Don’t sell yourself short. You have so much to offer, Jenny. We have a lot in common. We’re selfless. We take care of people we love. I really like spending time with you. I’m glad we’re giving this a shot.”

  “I was surprised to hear you shifting gears so quickly and asking me to stay here. I’ve got to be honest I wasn’t sure how long I could do the platonic, getting-to-know-each-other thing. I really want to take this to the next level.” I am so ready. The void that Harrison has left inside me needs to be filled. And while Pierce’s kindness has begun stitching up the tears in my heart, I need more. I need his hands exploring my body, discovering how to tease and tantalize me.

  Pierce’s face flames red with embarrassment. “I’m sorry if I gave you a mixed message. That was really stupid of me. I was just worried yesterday when Harrison showed up, and I thought you needed some space. Asking you to come stay here, I meant it more as a way for you to change your scenery and keep moving forward. I wasn’t thinking of it in terms of our relationship. I see why you would have thought that.” Pierce drops his sandwich on the plate and rubs his forehead, looking aggravated with himself and very tired. “I have a spare bedroom here. I cleaned all the sports junk out of it last night and put some fresh sheets on the bed. That’s not what you were thinking though, were you?”

  Like a cartoon anvil landing on my head, his words crush me. He wants me to be his roommate, not his live-in girlfriend. We’re no closer today to having sex than we were the last time I threw myself at him. He still sees me as damaged and now that he’s met Harrison, maybe more so.

  “Maybe this was a mistake,” I croak as I stand to leave. “I really don’t know what we’re doing here. You say you care about me, you see a future for us, yet we’re not really moving forward at all.”

  “I don’t want to move forward until I’m sure you’re done looking backward. I’ve been hurt before too, Jenny. It’s probably apparent, but I don’t walk away from people who need help. That puts me in a position sometimes to get stomped on. The older I get the more I learn how to reduce those odds, and it’s with time. We may not seem like we’re moving fast enough for you, and if that means you want to go look elsewhere for something you need, then so be it. But really look at what we’re doing and then ask yourself if it’s that strange. We have common interests and we’re spending time enjoying each other. We’re talking and listening. We’re present right here, trying to connect. I’m not going to lie and tell you I don’t want to take you in my room and have sex with you. There is a real desire to do that, trust me. But tomorrow morning when we wake up, where are we? Do you feel any better than you did the day before? Probably not. But if you take time to get back on your feet and remember what makes you happy all on your own, then we don’t have to worry about finding ways to distract from the pain. Anything we do is about what we want to do and what brings us close.”

  I don’t hide my astonishment. I want him to understand I’ve never heard this from a man before. “Does it really have to be one or the other? Do I have to be all whole and perfect for you to be with me?” I feel the tug of emotion rising up in me, and I know I’m making his point. The tears pooling in my eyes drive home what he’s saying.

  “If you can look me in the eye right now and tell me a part of you isn’t just trying to feel better, to feel something, then do it now.”

  I look deep into his kind eyes and search for those words. But after a second I drop my head against the back of the couch. “Then what am I doing here if this isn’t the right time for us?”

  “We can still do what we’ve been doing, can’t we? What’s wrong with eating together, with hanging out and watching television shows we love together? I want to be here for you. I want to help you get back to the place you were when you felt the best you ever have. And then when you’re there, I want to see where we fit into that. That sounds normal to me.” Pierce’s level face loses its defensiveness and warms with kindness.

  “I guess that does sound kind of normal. Getting to know each other, me feeling normal again.”

  “I’m going to jump in the shower then crash for a couple hours. If you want to go back to your mom’s house I’ll be happy to take you, and it won’t make this weird at all. I promise. But I say we should give it a try.”

  I nod my head as Pierce points to the door of the room he’s cleaned for me. Pushing it open, the squeaky hinges give way to a plain room. It’s void of any of my childhood toys, and that alone makes me feel more at ease than I was at my mother’s. Flopping onto the bed, I feel the cushion of an extra pillow top below my back and the silky luxury of a puffy down comforter. Kicking off my shoes and climbing to the top of the bed, I tuck myself under the blankets and intend to indulge in the restful sleep of being in a grown-up-sized bed with decent linens. If nothing else, I’ll sleep better here. And hopefully soon, with Pierce, I’ll be losing plenty of sleep here, too.

  My racing mind and sexually frustrated body won’t succumb to a nap; I curse not having a vibrator. It’s like living in the stone ages. They make every kind of glowing, twirling, sparkly dick-shaped apparatus known to man these days, and I have none. After lamenting, I crawl my fingers down to the delicate lace trim of my panties and decide I’ll have to take this problem into my own hands. Literally.

  I make sure Pierce has gone off to sleep as I slide my panties off my body. It’s been so long since I’ve had to do this with no battery-powered assistance it takes a while to get comfortable touching myself. But it’s like riding a bike because as soon as I run my finger across my swollen and desperate clit, I’m over any hesitation. I close my eyes as I plunge one finger inside me and run my thumb gently between my folds. I want to conjure the image of Pierce, dressed only in his fireman’s hat, strutting toward me with a giant smile . . . and erection. But I can’t. I’ve never seen him in anything less than a pair of shorts and a shirt. He’s given me next to nothing to work with.

  Like an invading army, thoughts of Harrison shove any image of Pierce aside and take over. I shove the cup of my bra aside and try, unsuccessfully, to mirror the sensation Harrison gave when he tantalized me. It’s impossible. His moves were signature and tailored to what drives me wild.

  I know I’m not leaving this bed without an orgasm. I refuse. This is like a sit-in. I’m protesting self-control. I visualize Harrison crawling down my body and planting his face between my legs. I let the pace of my fingers grow more frantic. Not meaning to, I whisper his name with a panting breath. By now I’d have two handfuls of his hair as I swivel his head to just the right angle to get me to come. This is the moment I’d be shouting for him to finger me.

  My own fingers work to keep pace as I inch toward climax. I whisper his name again as I feel my muscles clamp down over my finger, and my body shudders with an orgasm.

  Sweat has beaded on my forehead; I’m completely winded. It feels so good to release the volcano that’s been building in me. But it fell miles short of anything Harrison had ever done. Will this be what it feels like for the rest of my life, just the shadow of remembered pleasure? A morsel, never big enough to keep m
e from starving? I roll onto my side and clutch the pillow as the tears start to fall. I’ll never have what we had. It’s time to face that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “How the hell do people do this?” I mutter as I cram a few more shirts into the washing machine. I’ve always gone to the Laundromat down the street from my apartment and dropped my clothes off at the wash, dry, and fold counter. My mother cringed at the money I spent for a task I could easily do myself, but that made me more adamant about it. Some of my strongest convictions were formed out of the desire to do the opposite of anything my mother did. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of. My mother is a kindhearted and lovely woman who people adore. Can people say the same for me? Not likely.

  There are no real instructions for laundry on the bottle of bleach. It says not to use with colors, which makes me realize I should have sorted the laundry rather than stuffing everything that was in the hamper. Things are getting desperate; I have to do something. Staying in Pierce’s house and being utterly useless is getting old. He leaves for work every day, and I go and work a few hours at the pet store. Some days I’m home far too early, but that’s what part time is. I have a car Pierce helped me pick out. It’s used, but he spent an afternoon under the hood, making sure it was worth the two thousand dollars I paid for it. Celibacy isn’t getting any easier the more he helps me. Looking at him covered in grease, pulling up the bottom of his white shirt to wipe his brow, and exposing his tight ab muscles was too much for me. I was happy for the closed door that night. Even without my vibrators I had to give myself pleasure just to release the overwhelming pressure.

  Adding to my guilt, Pierce comes home day after back-breaking day of fighting fires and saving lives and still cooks for me and tosses in the laundry. But that ends today. I’ve got the day off from the pet shop. Today I’m cooking a meal, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house.

  My determination is off to a good start. I’ve found a reasonable recipe that we have all the ingredients for. How hard can chicken and rice be? Surely a person of my intelligence can manage a few tasks around the house, especially now that I’m rid of that stupid walking boot. I look around the kitchen, sizing everything up. Pulling a pot from the overhead rack, I fill it with the right amount of water and rice and click the gas stove to life. Easy. The directions on the back of the rice box are simple. I’ll get that cooked first and deal with the chicken after.