Past Imperfect

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Past Imperfect Page 7

by Alison G. Bailey


  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  “Well, goodnight then.”

  “Yeah, goodnight.” She hesitated for a second before heading into the bedroom.

  So weird.

  My sofa and living room were the only things that were clear. The rest of my mind was fuzzy when I first opened my eyes. I didn’t know if what was happening was real or a dream, but either way I was sporting a raging hard on caused by the soft hand stroking my dick. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out the silhouette of a small female kneeling on the floor next to me. It took me a second to remember her name. When I did, the confusion was evident in my voice. “Becca?”

  “I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “It’s just that other than Stephanie I don’t know anyone here. I’ve been so lonely. I could just give you a hand job and nothing more if you want.”

  “I need a condom,” I said.

  “I’m on birth control.”

  “I still need a condom.” There was no way I was going commando in a girl.

  I’ve been involved in some weird kinky sex before. Not that being woken up by a female’s hand on me was weird or kinky. It was the fact that this girl seemed scared of her own shadow, so her sudden boldness took me off guard. But I have never wasted a willing chick or a hard dick in my life, and I certainly wasn’t about to start now. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand from moving further. I slid my hand under the sofa cushion, feeling around for a condom. I like to have them scattered around the place. You never know when the mood will strike. I found one and quickly rolled it on and then pulled her on top of me. As she straddled me, I lifted my hips slightly so she could slide my pants down. She had already taken her panties off, but still wore her black tank top. She lowered herself onto me and we began to move. We didn’t kiss, we didn’t speak, or touch anywhere else. We didn’t even look at each other, we simply fucked in the purest sense of the word.

  The next morning I woke up exhausted. It wasn’t that Becca and I had screwed our brains out all night. We did it only one time, but it was the longest fucking fuck I’d ever had. She took forever to come undone. Every time I thought she was almost there, she’d fake me out. I’ve made girls come right on the spot with only a wink and a flash of the smile. Finishing off Becca had become more of a challenge than anything else. There was no way I would let a quiet, pasty, little semi-Goth girl get the best of me. Finally, I conquered the challenge and she had an orgasm, but my stamina was shot in the process.

  I opened one eye, looking over to the other side of the bed. It was empty. This girl didn’t talk much, she was willing to just satisfy me, and she left before I woke up. She just might be my dream girl. Just then I heard a noise coming from the other room.

  So much for the dream.

  I threw on a pair of jeans and grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it over my head as I walked out of the bedroom. I found Becca in the kitchen cooking.

  “Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, but I made some breakfast,” she said with a slight nervousness in her voice.

  “No, I don’t mind. Is there coffee?” I asked in a gravelly voice.

  “Oh, sure.” She grabbed a mug and poured me a cup as I pulled a stool out from the bar and sat. Handing me the mug and a plate of food, she said, “I made French toast. I hope you like it.”

  “I had French toast?” I was astonished there was anything edible in my kitchen.

  “Well, you had bread, eggs, and milk. That’s basically French toast.”

  “The fuck you say?” I muttered, shoveling in the mouthwatering food.

  She giggled. “You’re funny.” She stood on the other side of the bar gazing at the top of the counter.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  Glancing up, she said, “I already did.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  Ah, the awkward silence of the morning-after screw.

  “This tastes really awesome. Thanks,” I finally said, hoping it would kick start enough of a conversation to get me through breakfast.

  “Oh you’re welcome. I like to cook.”

  “Yeah?” She raised her head, but wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

  “Yeah. Um… I don’t get to cook very often. My last roommate ate out a lot and Stephanie drinks most of her meals.” I chuckled causing a slight smile to appear across her face. A couple of minutes of silence fell between us again.

  I glanced around the room as I continued to eat. Something was different. “Did you clean up?”

  “A little. I got up early and things were a little messy. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, I don’t mind. Thanks. If you’re really feeling sassy I have a couple of bags of laundry that need to get done.” The teasing was obvious in my voice, at least to me.

  “I’ll do your laundry.”

  “Becca, I was just joking.”

  “Well, I’ll do it for you,” she said, giving me a shy smile.

  We sat in silence for the rest of the breakfast. After Becca loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen, I took her home thinking that I wouldn’t see much of her after today. Little did I know she would soon become a semi-permanent fixture at my place.

  Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the way his tongue felt swirling around my stomach and then into my navel. I wanted to be turned on. I wanted it to feel sexy, but it just felt cold and wet, like a dog’s nose on my stomach. Pushing those thoughts aside, I imagined that the tongue moving up my bare skin belonged to Chace Crawford. Yeah, scruffy Chace was really nice. The hard surface of the table was uncomfortable, causing me to squirm slightly. The Tongue must have mistook this as a response to its abilities because it started to speed up toward my chest. It pulled away briefly when it reached my bra. Immediately, it landed on the top of my breasts, licking off the sugar, right before the lemon was plucked from my mouth and replaced by a pair of cold wet lips. Letting a guy do lemon-drop body shots off of you wasn’t exactly the best activity for a second year law student at Wake Forrest to take part in. Shit like this comes back to haunt you, especially if you plan on climbing the professional ladder and run for office someday. But it had been a long and stressful semester and this was a better de-stressor than banging my head.

  As the sound of the chanting college crowd flooded back into my ears, a low husky voice said, “Come on, baby. Let’s go somewhere alone.”

  “Okay,” I slurred.

  Grabbing my hand, he slid me off of the table and dragged me down the hall until we reached a bedroom. In one chaotic moment, clothes started flying off and around the room. He backed me over to the bed and we fell on top of it. He licked my neck while squeezing one of my breasts. Finesse was definitely not in this dude’s repertoire. I felt the tip of him brush up against my inner thigh.

  Shoving him away slightly, I glanced down, and said, “Hey buddy, you need to cover that up, otherwise it’s not gaining access anywhere.”

  “Oh yeah. Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I rolled over on my side, facing in the opposite direction as he climbed off of me.

  I had been pretty drunk. Either I passed out or had fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I woke up to the feel of a dick sliding into me, and the sound of a husky voice breaking through the darkness, urging me to wake up. Once my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I was able to make out the silhouette of a large muscular frame hovering over me. I lifted my hips slightly giving him permission to continue. As he moved and grunted on top of me, numbness invaded my body. The sensation of physical contact was fading for me.

  When I first started having sex, the natural response of my body helped distract me from my world for just a bit. I figured it was less harmful than banging my head. I’ve never had a boyfriend. The guys I’ve been with are for the most part random. I knew their names, but over the years even that knowledge had become less important to me. This shadow
looming above had me feeling nothing but fear. Was this how it got for my mom? Did she slowly start to lose all physical and mental pleasure sensations until she became completely numb to everything except the pain?

  Ever since I was a little girl I had been told I was exactly like my mom. I had her azure blue eyes, chestnut brown hair, bright smile, and bubbly personality. I always loved when people said those things because I wanted to be just like her in every way, but now the thought terrified me. My mom disappeared and was replaced by a shell. Her eyes and hair were the same, but the smile and personality weren’t a part of her anymore. I often wondered if she cut her wrists with the hope of feeling something, anything, before she died.

  My body jostled three times before a heavy body collapsed on top and snored.

  The bright sunlight streaming through the window forced me awake early the next morning. I eased out of bed, gathered my clothes, and dressed. I was hooking the last clasp on my bra when I heard a groggy cough and the clearing of a throat coming from underneath the sheets.

  “Hey, where you going?” he asked.

  Glancing over my shoulder I answered, “Home. Do you know where my shirt is?”

  “You’re hot as fuck.” I had no idea how hot fuck was exactly, but if last night was any indication, neither did this dude.

  “And my shoes… where are my shoes?”

  “Don’t go. Come back to bed.”

  “Can’t.” I scanned the room one more time, but didn’t see my shirt or shoes. A vague memory started to come back that I took them both off before the body shots started, so they must be in the kitchen. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times before opening the bedroom door.

  “I don’t even know your name,” he grumbled.

  “I don’t know yours either, so we’re even.”

  “Will I see you again?”

  “It’s highly doubtful. Have a nice life.” I stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

  Standing in my bare feet, rumpled skirt, and hot pink lace bra, I took in a deep breath, rounded my shoulders, held my chin high, and plastered a neutral expression on my face. It’s the walk of shame only when you look like you’re ashamed. I was a pro at disguising my feelings, so with steely, unapologetic determination, I started toward the kitchen in search of the rest of my outfit.

  I needed to change my plan of action. Telling Mabry how much I love her freaks her out too much. It always ends up with her pushing me away. So instead of telling her, I decided the best thing to do was to show her how much I love her. After getting her breakfast on Monday, I eased off a little. She was still upset that morning probably because of what happened between us at brunch. I didn’t want to scare her off. Besides, actions speak louder than words.

  On Tuesday, I had a large arrangement of tiger lilies delivered to her office. She found a pair of fluffy slippers waiting under her desk on Wednesday. Mabry always kicked off her heels when she was working at her desk and her feet got cold. Thursday, I left a picture on her desk that I had framed. It was of us at the Music Farm a month ago. We had gone to see the local band Marytre in concert. And then, on Friday, I left a box of Godiva chocolates with a handwritten note.

  Mabry,

  I know I agreed to keep this thing between us casual, but things have changed. I won’t apologize for that. You’re in my heart and soul now. I know you’re scared, so am I. But we can do this together. We’re not alone anymore. Now we have each other. I don’t know what the future holds. All I know is that I need you in mine. I want to take care of you. I want to cheer you on. I want to protect you and catch you if you fall. I’ll be the best man you’ve ever had in your life, if you’ll just take a chance on me. I promise to be careful with your heart.

  I love you,

  Brad

  It’s a gray and rainy Saturday. The weather had already ruined plan A. As I put plan B together in my head, I step out of the shower, grab a towel, and walk into my bedroom. I hear Christy in the kitchen fixing breakfast. I dry off and throw on a pair of dark gray basketball shorts. I’m towel drying my hair as I walk into the living room.

  “Hey, I need coffee STAT.” I give my hair one more good scrub with the towel and then drape it around my shoulders. Looking up, my breath stops. Christy stands in the doorway of the kitchen, wearing boxers and a flimsy tank top, with no bra, and her blond hair gathered up into a high ponytail. But she’s not the reason my lungs stop pumping oxygen. Mabry stands right next to her. The hurt in her eyes is the worst thing I’ve ever seen. My heart and stomach plummet. Her eyes fill with water and her bottom lip quivers. To anyone else, it would appear she’s fine, but I know every nuance of her body and its reactions. She and I stand frozen, staring at each other.

  “Um… look, Brad, we have company for breakfast,” Christy says.

  Not taking my eyes off Mabry I say, “Christy, this is Mabry. Mabry this is Christy.”

  “Yeah, we’ve done the intros, already,” Christy informs.

  Mabry doesn’t say a word, she doesn’t blink, and she doesn’t take her eyes off of me. “Mabry, what are you doing here?” I ask.

  The tears spill from her eyes and run slowly down her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she whispers.

  “Look, why don’t I just take my breakfast and head back to my place.” Christy collects her plate and crosses the room.

  “It’s fine, you stay. I’m leaving,” Mabry says as she rushes past me and out the door.

  I look at Christy. “Go!” she commands.

  I rush out the door, stopping long enough to step into my running shoes that I left on the front porch. By the time I make it down the steps to the driveway, Mabry is already at her car that’s parked across the street. She struggles with her keys and umbrella. She keeps pointing the key remote at the car door, but nothing happens. Its battery must be dead. She spots me as I approach, throws her keys at the car, drops her umbrella, and takes off running. Snatching up her keys, I head after her. I’m in really good shape, working out every day, but shit, my girl is fast. I finally get close enough to be able to reach out and grab her arm. She whips around, swinging her other arm toward the side of my face. I grab it just before it makes contact and hold both arms behind her back. I look down into her eyes. The hurt is more intense and now mixed with anger.

  She struggles to free herself. Grinding her teeth together, she says in a low voice, “Get your fucking hands off of me, Brad.” Both of us breathe hard and fast.

  “I will. But first you have to promise that you won’t run.”

  “I’m not promising you shit.”

  “That wasn’t what it looked like.”

  “How original. What’s next? You were drunk? She’s just a good friend? Or do I get the classic, it didn’t mean anything? I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve had enough people warn me about you. This was a mistake.”

  “What?” My jaw clenches tight as all the muscles in my neck and shoulders tense.

  “Coming here.”

  I release the grip I have on her wrists. Letting them drop, I then take one step back. I know exactly what she’s referring to. People have told her I’m a player, that I lie and cheat my way through life and use women. I used to be like that, but I’m not anymore. I’ve worked hard to make amends for the pain I’ve caused and move past the mistakes I’ve made. I wish others would stop trying to pigeonhole me to the past.

  Even with the drops of rain falling harder and continually sliding down her beautiful face, I can tell the tears haven’t stopped. If anything, they’ve increased.

  “We’re not having this conversation out here. Let’s go back to my place so we can talk.” My tone is stern.

  She takes one step toward me, places her hands on either side of my bare chest, shoving at it with all her strength. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  Since Mabry is stubborn as hell, my options are limited. Moving quickly, I dip down, scoop her up, and toss her over my shoulder. Holding her legs in place with my arm, I head back home.
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  Grabbing on to the waistband of my shorts, Mabry lifts herself up slightly. “Put me down, Brad!”

  “No!”

  “If you don’t put me down right this second, I’m going to shove your pants down.”

  “Go ahead, Sweetness. It won’t be the first time I’ve walked these streets naked.” I continue my steady and purposeful stride back to my place.

  Suddenly, I feel something sharp pierce my skin. “Ouch! Did you just bite my ass?”

  “Put me down!”

  “I’ll put you down once we get to my place.” I feel another sharp pain. “Ouch!”

  “Ouch!” Mabry shouts.

  “You bite my ass, I pinch yours.”

  We play this little game of bite n’ pinch a couple of more times before she finally surrenders, letting me carry her home without any more resistance.

  If I’m to be honest with myself, the wall that I spent years building around me started to crack little by little the very first day I met Brad. I was somehow able to push him away to a certain degree, throw some spackle over the crack, and get through my day. But it didn’t take much for the crack to reappear, each time weakening my wall until finally it came crashing down this week.

  After Brad and I talked in my office on Monday, I saw him only in passing for the rest of the day. He didn’t flirt with me, he didn’t try to corner me to talk, he didn’t call or text, and he didn’t tell me he loved me. The breakfast told me he wanted to be friends. The lack of contact told me he was moving on. I felt empty, but I knew it was best for both of us. On Tuesday, a beautiful arrangement of tiger lilies was delivered to my office. At first, I assumed they were sent by Brad, but there was no note. I knew he was in court all day. I thought I’d at least see him before heading home, but I didn’t. That night I must have picked up my phone a hundred times to call or text him, but I didn’t. I just sat in my condo and missed him.

  When I got to my office on Wednesday, I tossed my purse on the sofa, grabbed the files from my bag that I had been working on all night, and sat down at my desk. As usual, I kicked my heels off. Suddenly, I felt a tickling sensation run across my toes. In one quick movement I shoved away from my desk, jumped out of my chair, made a beeline to the other side of the room, and hopped on to the sofa. I paced back and forth as my imagination ran wild with what type of creature was living under my desk. I knew only one person I could call. I took my phone from my purse, sat on the back of the sofa, and sent the text.

 

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