by Natasha Boyd
I’D HAD WINE earlier, so I had to wait a few hours for it to wear off. But before everyone started for home, we all moved to the parking lot for our good-byes, and I got behind the wheel of the VW Bug. Keri Ann jumped into the passenger seat.
“When was the last time you drove?” she asked nervously.
“Ha,” I responded. “That’s my worry too. Not much since our learners. Mom always has her car and it’s been easier to bike.”
“I know,” she said. “I’d feel the same. And now you have an audience. Eek.”
My own car. I couldn’t believe it. I started it up, moving immediately into first gear. Luckily, I’d learned how to drive in a stick shift car. I rolled forward and turned out of the parking space, and everyone cheered and clapped.
“So far, so good,” I muttered and eased into second, making it without lurching the car.
“Cool. Just stay in second and bring this baby home. I’ll come over tomorrow so you can practice.”
I did just that, turning at the end of the row and driving slowly back to where we started. “Thank you so much for organizing this, K. Tonight could have—”
“Really sucked. I know.”
“Yeah,” I said. I thought briefly of telling her about the letter, but it was late and I might get emotional again. “Thank you for being the best friend a girl could have,” I said instead as we pulled into the parking space and I shut off the engine. “And for having a hot brother who’s been doing a fine job of keeping me distracted.”
Keri Ann gagged loudly.
I chuckled.
“But, be careful, okay?” she said in a serious tone.
“I will. I have my eyes open.”
“Good,” she said and we got out to say good-bye to everyone.
I really wanted Joey to stay, but I knew he had to ride home with Keri Ann since it was pitch o’clock at night.
I needed to go see about the package Woody had mentioned anyway. I wondered if Mom had ordered something for me. We’d been talking about maybe getting one of those small laptops I could take to class. I’d left for work before she got up this morning, and I’d barely been home.
Woody was wiping down the bar when I got back.
“Thank you for a lovely evening, Woody,” I told him.
“It’s been a pleasure watching you grow up, girl. Happy to do it. So you like the car?”
I smiled at him and clapped my hands together. “Absolutely, fantastic. It’s amazing, thank you for being part of that too.”
“You’ve got some great friends.” He leaned down and pulled a box wrapped in brown paper out with both hands. “Almost forgot,” he said. “This came for you from New York.”
My heart thumped heavily, swimming with equal parts anticipation and dread.
I took the box and read the sender’s address. It was the same one I used to send mail to my dad. Oh, thank God! If he was sending me a birthday gift then he was okay. Relief made me lightheaded, and I took the box to one of the tables and sat down. Ripping the paper off revealed a regular packing box with a letter taped to the front. A photo dropped out the envelope as soon as I opened it. It was me as a small chubby girl wearing a pink frilly swimsuit, a snorkel perched on my head, and wearing my pink glitter cowgirl boots. I gave a startled laugh.
Damn, I was a cute little girl. I set it aside and opened the letter.
Dear Jessica ~
You don’t know me, but I used to work for the magazine that commissioned your father’s work. Your father and I were friends for a long time, and as you know, for years he used this address for correspondence. I’m so very sorry for your loss. It was a terrible blow to hear that the world had lost such a special soul. Your father was an amazing and talented man, and an even better friend.
I stopped reading. I must have made some sound because Woody was in front of me. Crouching in front of me.
“You okay?” I saw his mouth form the words. But he spoke them from very far away.
“Jazz,” he said again.
I was shaking. No, he was shaking me. He was holding my shoulder.
“Jazz, are you okay?”
No. No, I was not okay.
Woody took the letter from my hands and read the words. His brow furrowed and then he brought a fist up to his mouth. His grey rheumy eyes filled with water.
He looked up at me. This dear, dear man who’d watched me grow up. Who was there for me when my mom wasn’t. When my dad wasn’t. I reached out and laid my hand on his. “It’s okay, Woody.”
“I’d never have given this to you if I’d known.”
“I know,” I said. “Can you read it to me. I only got about half way.”
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
Woody pulled up a chair next to me and sat.
“...and an even better friend.” He picked up where I’d stopped. “I have informed your father’s lawyer of the news I received from the magazine. I’m sure they’ve been in touch. I believe they will want to do their own investigation and get confirmation and reports etc. before dispersing his estate, but in the meantime I thought you’d want to have this, his most beloved Leica camera. It was his first professional camera. Still works like a beauty, but he preferred to take equipment he didn’t mind losing or damaging. I am enclosing the last letter you wrote him unopened and this picture of you. You look like you have his fire.”
Woody smiled lightly at that. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I swallowed. “Go on.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” Woody read on. “I only have this address for you. If you are ever in New York, please look me up. I’d love to meet the daughter of such a talented man. David Fraser had a gypsy soul and a free bird’s heart. A bird who liked to fly too close to the sun. He will be sorely missed. Warmest regards and deepest sympathies, Albert Hoffman.”
He folded the letter. I gripped my hands together, squeezing hard. Then I squeezed my eyes shut as hard as I could. Then my teeth. As if I could keep the shock and grief contained.
Woody laid his hands over mine. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I opened my eyes. “It’s fine, Woody. I didn’t even fucking know him. So is it really a loss?”
He pursed his lips. “You’re hurting.”
“Actually, I’m not. Not at all. I feel quite … pain-free. I grew up just fine without him. What did he really contribute in the whole grand scheme of things, you know?”
My heart thumped erratically. It pounded in my ears and beat in my throat. I needed to be alone.
I stood up, accidentally dropping the letter and picture. I picked them up clumsily, stuffing them in the envelope.
Woody stared nervously at me.
“I’m fine, Woody. Seriously. It was just unexpected. Of course I’m sad. But I’m fine. I’m gonna go put this in the apartment.”
I gave him a hug. “Thank you.”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I nodded and grabbed the box. “Yes.”
Hurrying to my apartment, I slipped into my room through the sliding door and dumped the box on my bed. Then I took the picture and walked through to the kitchen. Mom was still not home, which suited me fine at that moment. I reached up into the cupboard above the fridge and pulled down the vodka. There was only about a fifth of a bottle left. Dammit. I stuffed it in my back pack and then slipped back through my bedroom and out the door. I took the long way around and made it to my kayak without Woody seeing me. I glided over dark water to All That Jazz.
As soon as I was down inside the cabin, I turned on the camp lantern and put some Ella on really low. I wished I could play it loud and lose myself but sound carried over the water. I swallowed down a shot of vodka. Followed by two more.
Ugh, it made me feel ill. I put the rest of the bottle away.
I was at a loss. It didn’t feel comforting being here at all. The music wasn’t helping. I fidgeted and pulled the photo of me in my cowgirl boots out. I couldn’t even summon up the happy feeling
I’d had upon first seeing it. I think I’d even laughed. How was that possible?
Had my father taken this photo, or had my mother sent it?
Why was I even out here? I let out a long sigh.
Then I heard the unmistakable sounds of someone outside, tying up a kayak. I knew it was Joey. And tonight I was going to make sure he helped me forget everything.
I POPPED MY head above deck, and as soon as I confirmed it was Joey, I climbed down without saying a word. Perfect.
I felt cold and lifeless in my chest, which was unexpected. I thought I’d be sadder about my dad by now. At least now that the shock had worn off. But maybe it hadn’t.
Running shoes and bare calves appeared on the ladder.
I sat on the bench and waited for him to climb down. Joey turned, and I grabbed his hand, pulling him down toward me.
He laughed lightly at my enthusiasm and dropped his lips to mine.
Opening my mouth under his, I kissed him hard. I kissed him like I was wild with want. I was wild. But it was wildness borne of a frantic need to feel something. To feel anything. I grabbed his hair and stroked his tongue with mine.
“God, Jazz,” he groaned against my mouth. “Slow down. You okay?”
“Fine,” I responded and kissed him again. And suddenly I knew what I needed to fill this empty aching. I was going to do exactly what I’d told my father I was planning. Lose my virginity. And I was doing it right now, with Joey. There was no better time than right now. No other time I needed this more than right this very second.
I pulled my lips off his.
Joey’s cheeks were flushed. Like the sun had kissed the tops of his cheekbones. His blue eyes were like dark denim.
Finally the three shots of vodka I’d had earlier were making their presence felt in the loosening of my inhibitions. My fingers went to the buttons of my shorts, and I crept backward into the berth in the bow of the boat. Sitting on the soft vinyl mattress I shimmied my shorts over my butt and down my legs. I was in my most boring pair of white panties. Typical.
Joey stood still hunched over in the small galley, hands braced either side of him staring at me intently. “What are you doing, Jazz?”
I pursed my lips, I lifted a shoulder. “My shorts were uncomfortable?”
He shook his head.
“Come on over here, Joseph. I won’t bite.”
“I’m not altogether sure about that.” He leaned down and crept forward onto the mattress. “But I’m not sure I’d complain.”
“I think we better stack,” I grinned and held onto his neck, pulling him in on top of me. “Not much room for both of us to have our own space.”
With all of the kissing we’d done, we’d never lain down together, and as our bodies connected, his heavy frame settling between my legs, we both groaned.
I laughed at us and felt his smiling lips on my neck. And I wondered how when I was with Joey, the rest of the world completely melted away. It was remarkable and addictive. And so very necessary.
His mouth found his way back to mine, his weight on his elbows. Within moments the low banked passion in our kisses roared into a hot blaze as our tongues stroked, our hands caressed, and our lower bodies rocked together.
“I love your mouth,” Joey whispered, and his tongue skated down my neck, making me shudder. “And the taste of your skin. You taste of salt and vanilla.”
“That tastes good?”
“Funny. Stop talking.”
“No, wait.”
He lifted his face up, looking down at me. His eyes were heavy. Like he was tired, but the look that glittered under his lids said it was arousal. Not that I had much experience recognizing this expression, but on Joseph it was like there’d never been a time when I didn’t know what it meant. It was so obvious. And damn, it felt so good. The way he looked at me scorched me clear down to my toes.
“What?” he asked.
“What?”
“You said wait.”
I swallowed. “Oh, yeah. I was thinking, with all of this kissing, we’re still at first base.” I watched Joe’s throat bob as he swallowed too. “And I think the run is clear to second.”
Joey expelled a sharp breath. “Thought you’d never ask. Boobs first?”
A giggle erupted out of my throat. “Sure.” I laughed. “Boobs first.”
He shifted his weight to one arm, resting his head on his palm. His free hand came to the buttons of my simple cotton shirt. They made quick work, hastily popping one after the other.
It felt as though my heart may have moved to my throat as I watched the intensity with which Joseph’s gaze tracked his movement. The last button popped free, and his hot hand slid onto the skin of my belly. I pressed my lips together to keep my reaction contained. His skin on mine felt so good.
His fingers trailed up my sternum and parted my shirt to reveal my cotton bra. A small sound accompanied his breath, and I knew he was as caught up as I was. “You’ve always had the most spectacular rack.” Joey smirked. “I’m so glad you’re old enough now I don’t have to feel pervy.”
I smacked his shoulder and he chuckled. “Just saying that is totally pervy,” I said.
He winked and leaned down to kiss me.
Threading my hands into his hair, I deepened the kiss, hiding my quickened breaths.
My insides buzzed.
His hand slid over the fabric of my bra.
My kiss grew deeper and he responded in kind.
Our slow teasing was quickly forgotten, a feverish wave washing over us.
His hand squeezed, his thumb pinching at my nipple, and I gasped loudly into his mouth and arched into his assault. Within seconds his hand slipped under the fabric and I moaned, my mouth pulling away from his as my head fell back. Between my legs, the weight of him rocked against me.
His mouth devoured my neck, my ear, the skin of my chest. His fingers pulled the fabric of my bra until my breasts were free and covered in the heat of his mouth.
The buzzing inside my body had morphed to an aching throb. “Ahhh,” I managed, and my hips bucked against him.
It was moving fast, his mouth hot, his hands moving like he couldn’t get enough and didn’t know what to touch, what to taste.
A hot needy heat pooled between my legs and deep in my gut. I moaned, and strained, and sought more of his mouth, more of his hands.
My own hands roamed his body, squeezing, pulling. I grabbed at his t-shirt, suddenly needing to feel the hot smooth skin of his chest against me.
The sound of our breathing was labored and frantic to my ears. The groan he emitted as his erection pressed hard between my legs flooded me with a sharp need that was so acute it bordered on painful. He assisted me with his shirt, and I breathed in relief at the feel of his skin on mine. “God, this feels good,” I said.
“Too fucking good,” he agreed, and his tongue slipped greedily back into my mouth. “We should stop,” he said in a pained tone.
“God, no. Why would you do that?” I rocked against him and he pressed back. “There’s a lot more second basing to be done.” But honestly, I knew, even if he didn’t, we were heading to home base at supersonic speeds. And I had no intention of stopping.
I pushed him up enough to slip my hand between us and popped his shorts button free and his zipper.
“Jazz.” He groaned, but he didn’t stop me.
“Jay,” I whispered back and slipped my hand into his shorts and felt his hot and heavy length.
His mouth left me and he squeezed his eyes closed, holding himself up just enough for me to reach him. I ignored the unfamiliarity of what I was doing, going on instinct. It seemed to be working. I squeezed my hand, moving it up and down. Once. Twice. Then I slipped my hand under the waistband of his boxers and closed around his bare skin.
“Christ,” he hissed out.
He shifted again to give me better access. And his hand fumbled between my legs.
I spread them wide and let out a keening whimper as his fingers slipped under
the fabric and over my slick wetness.
His fingers moved erratically. We were angled awkwardly. There were two many clothes and not enough space. I knocked his hand out of the way, and after a swift hard kiss on his mouth, reached down and shimmied out of my underwear. Then I got to work tugging his down. His erection sprang free. I stared at it. I was really doing this.
“Jazz,” he said warningly.
“Joseph,” I returned. “Is that a normal size? I haven’t seen that many.”
Joey chocked out a laugh. “Yes. It’s a normal size.”
“Kick your shorts off, they’re in the way.”
“Already on it,” he said. Then he was back and coming to lie half on my side, but I grabbed him under the arms and urged him up my body.
“No, Jazz—”
I cut him off with a kiss. His body settled on mine and immediately the feel of us naked, his erection against my melting heat, was too much. “Fuck,” he groaned, and at the same time I arched my hips up toward him, the tip of him slid into me. I couldn’t breathe or swallow for the pounding want.
His shoulders trembled under my hands. My mouth fastened on his to stop any words or resistance he was thinking of offering. I rocked and moved under him, urging him.
He gave in and thrust into me.
Pain exploded through my body, wrenching a garbled scream from my throat. Shit. My immediate thought was I’d given myself away. I grabbed his head and shoulders, his face in my neck. I held tight as he tried to lift his head. “So good,” I lied through gritted teeth into his ear, the sound of my words a hiss.
“Jazz,” he moaned desperately. “We shouldn’t have—”
I moved my hips toward him. My face scrunched tight. This was, hands down, the most fucking uncomfortable thing I had ever, ever, done. I wanted to stamp my foot on the bed and bite down hard on something. I rocked under him, panicked he’d realize what I was trying so desperately to hide. He pulled out slowly dragging my insides with a shaft of nails. Maybe I wasn’t wet enough all the way inside? God knew, I was sure I no longer had a hymen. I mean I was pretty active. Didn’t they break all the time? The myth that virgins were ‘intact’ was just that. A myth.