by Xavier Neal
And people like that.
“Thanks for coming, C.J.,” Stuart adjusts the collar of his shirt fidgeting with the water glass on the table. “I know you don’t enjoy being back in places like this—”
“I can practically hear my father complaining about how his steak is over cooked. Hear my mother’s nail clinking on her water glass annoyed that he’s treating another waiter like crap,” I pick up my own water glass to swallow the bitter memories.
“Remember that one time we all went to eat at Sal’s and our mothers both got shitfaced?” Stuart chuckles as the evening comes back to me.
“Yeah, I also remember you convincing me it’d be a good idea to sneak out the back and go skinny dipping with the David’s and their cousins, the Petersons.”
“Can you blame me? Thomas David looked so amazing naked with that deiform body. Being on the swim team more than paid off,” Stuart licks his lips at the thought.
Shaking my head I sigh, “How on earth do your parents not know you’re gay?”
“Even if she won’t admit it out loud, I’m pretty sure my mother knows and is just denying it in hopes she’s wrong. My asshole of a father on the other hand... Well you of all people know what it’s like to have a dick head for a dad. One who picks out everything you do, like some sort of check off to do list.”
The reminder is cut short by the appearance of an all too familiar face. One we spent many years around in high school and more recently many hours fighting with. Sara Thompson sits down at the table her black dress doing a great job at hiding her growing baby bump. With a touch of her curls she greets me with a wide smile. “Christian.”
“C.J.” I quickly correct her.
“Ugh. That’s so....beneath you to be shortened to such a frivolous name. Isn’t it time to ditch the childhood nickname and grow up?” she smacks her painted red lips and orders a glass of red wine.
“You shouldn’t be drinking that,” Stuart snaps at her.
“One glass is fine,” she corrects him.
“If you were carrying someone else’s child maybe, but you’re not. You’re carrying mine,” Stuart grunts unhappily leaning back in his seat. “And I don’t want my son or daughter exposed to it.”
“Then maybe you should’ve knocked someone else up. Maybe, someone who is allergic to alcohol or hell how about carrying it yourself¸” she snips as the glass lands in front of her. “Oh no. Wait. You can’t. Even if you wanted to, gays can do everything but that right?”
“You’re such a hateful bitch,” Stuart leans forward and says in a harsh whisper.
“I’m not the only bitch at the table.” She raises her glass.
“Enough,” I interrupt the petty fighting.
You know Erin and I may go at it like this all the time, but at least it ends in fucking. Mmm, that reminds me, need to speed this shit up so I can get home and do just that.
“We didn’t come here to bicker over what you’re doing in your state of pregnancy. We came to discuss what is to happen once the child has been brought to life. Now it is my understanding you want full custody.”
Sarah shoos the waiter away and states, “Damn right I do. No reason for my daughter —”
“Or son,” Stuart adds.
“To be raised by someone like you.”
“You mean someone who’s gay?” Stuart growls.
“Well that and has a pathetic job. Photography, really? What kind of career is that for a child to be raised under?”
“Opening your legs for lawyers is much better?”
“I am a legal secretary!”
“Did you say sex-cretary?”
“Round 2 complete,” I mutter under my breath. “Look, let’s just keep it plain and simple. We’re here to do our best to settle this before having to take you both to court.”
“Which I wouldn’t mind, but I know someone wants to keep his little secret,” she mocks Stuart while taking another sip of wine.
“You want me to let your secrets out?”
“I want you to behave like adults who are about to have a child instead of the high school students who had a bad round in the sack. Sara, there’s no reason for you to have full custody. Stuart may be gay but that doesn’t reflect his ability to raise a child. And while you may not enjoy his lifestyle choice or the fact he knocked you up, the fact of the matter is the child you’re carrying is his as well. He has rights too. So how about we handle this the way that child deserves and that is to know both of you? Joint custody will insure that.”
“That would be possible if Stuart doesn’t mind moving back to Maryland. That’s where I’m headed.”
“What?” Stuart replies loudly.
“Yup,” she giggles like she’s just won some sort of chess match. “So I’ll make you a deal. You move back home, and we can have joint custody.”
In a wounded voice he says, “My whole life is here Sara.”
“And once upon a time your whole life was in Maryland. What’s really keeping you here? Come back home. Hell, your best friends about to. At least rumor has it.” she winks at me.
Heading home is not what I want. Nor is it a choice given how I ran away from all my responsibilities like an eight year old with a packed backpack and an action figure. Why am I explaining this to you right now? I have a child custody issue to deal with.
“Why are you moving home?”
“Why not?” Sara counters. “That’s where my family is. The other people who want to help me raise this child—”
“The people who want me to put a goddamn ring on your finger.”
“It would’ve been nice!”
“And not sleeping with you at all would’ve been nice too!”
“I didn’t tell you to drunkenly walk into my apartment!”
“But you did make sure to tell me to screw you faster!”
“And I’m done!” I bang my fist on the table. The two of them shut their mouths tightly. “I didn’t join this dinner to be some sort of spectator while you bitch and moan about how much you disgust one another. I came here to stop you from a messy knockdown, drag out case in court. However, because of your inability to speak to each other like anything other than toddlers, it looks like the courtroom is the only place anything will get settled.”
Sara smirks and takes another drink of wine.
Adjusting my tie I try one final time. “Look, Sara. We all go way back. There’s no need for this to be complicated and out of control. Stuart is agreeing to pay child support every month and just wants to be able to help raise the child. Do you think that’s something that’s possible without the help of a judge?”
Her dark brown eyes look sympathetic for a second as she glances over at Stuart who looks like he could just fall apart at any moment. She swallows and sighs, “We can. But I’m serious about going back home. So if you want to see this child you’ll have to move back as well or get ready to drop some big bucks on plane tickets.” Finished with her glass she pushes it towards us. “And with that, this meeting is over.”
Just being at the table with her, makes me feel like I need someone to remove an ice pick from my skull. Yeah, that’s the level of headache this woman causes. Do you need some aspirin or a tranquilizer?
Stuart turns to me and shrugs. “What the hell am I supposed to do now, C.J.?”
“There are some ways to fight back, but I’m telling you now, it’s going to be long, brutal, and in the courtroom.” My best friend looks down at his hands that are clutched tightly together. “And chances are the one thing you don’t want in open court is going to be the first thing leaked. So go home. Think about it. Be 100% sure this is what you want before we head down that path.”
Stuart nods slowly as the waiter approaches asking us about ordering dinner. While my plan was to originally just feast on Erin, I can tell by the look on his face that he needs a friend.
And while I want nothing more than to get back in Erin, I owe Stuart this and so much more. He was the one who helped me escape the
very hell I’m being dragged back into. The hell that contains cocktails, drunken housewives, and politicians who train you to lie, from the day you step foot in preschool. The hell that doesn’t contain the sexiest as sin woman I’ve ever met.
Chapter 10
Erin
I knock on C.J.’s door with grocery bags dangling from my hands and a small look of disbelief on my face.
What do you expect? I didn’t actually plan on coming here and making this jackass dessert, but...somehow I got into the car and found myself at the grocery store. Then before I knew it I was buying all the ingredients to make him a Sinner’s Cake. What? What do you mean you’ve never had a Sinner’s Cake?
When his door opens up I’m greeted with him in black dress pants and a button down navy blue shirt with a black tie. My eyes wander over his large chest as my hands clutch the grocery bags tighter, desperate to just reach out and lightly stroke him. And then rip the damn thing off.
Tell me you don’t.
“Why do you look like something out of an episode of Law and Order?” I tease pushing past him.
“I don’t know. Why do you look like a wife in the 30’s with those paper sacks?”
“If I was a wife in the 30’s you’d be carrying these bags and I’d be boning the milkman,” my face looks over my shoulder and I give him a brief eyebrow wiggle as I march into his kitchen.
“In case you forgot babe how good I was in the sack yesterday let me remind you why you wouldn’t even think of fucking the milk man,” he declares approaching me from behind seconds after I place the groceries on the counter.
C.J. turns me around so my back hits the counter before his mouth ravishes mine. His lips suck my bottom one into his mouth before he gives it a hard bite creating a sexual yelp out of me that invites his tongue to touch mine. Not being able to resist him or even sure that I want to, I grab his tie and pull him into me at the same time he grips the edge of my dress yanking it upward in a frenzy to get it off.
We break away desperate to be skin to skin. Desperate to consume one another.
Desperate for that pierced dick of his to be in that spot inside of me that causes me to come the quickest in my own personal history time.
Between kisses full of teeth bumping, lip biting and aggravated moans of pleasure, C.J. finally gets me naked and I’ve got his pants around his ankles. I can tell he’s eager to push inside of me and I have to pull away to remind him, “Condom.”
On a frustrated sigh, he frantically stretches past me on the counter, reaching for the bear shaped cookie jar.
“Seriously?” I teasingly wiggle my hips, so my pussy coats his straining dick.
Go ahead. You can say it. I know I’m just asking for it.
C.J. glares, knocking the jar over so the condoms are sprawled out all over the counter.
I roll my hips again causing his eyes to close from the enjoyment. I giggle, “Can’t focus?” Another sound comes out of him as he concentrates on ripping the condom rapper with his teeth. “And who the hell keeps condoms in their kitchen like that? Does it see a lot of action? In fact do you—” is where my taunting stops because his cock is shoved to the brink inside me, my left leg wound tightly around him.
My head falls back on a high pitched scream of ecstasy as his piercing calls to the orgasm that was already floating on the edge to go ahead and fall over with a splash.
No girl should come that fast right?
C.J.’s fingers wind themselves through the back of my hair and yank my face forward so my eyes fall deep into his green ones. On a thrust he growls, “Done talking shit?” My mouth opens to snap when the piercing rubs that magical spot once more, my thigh that he’s death gripping squeezing him tighter. Another pull of my hair is accompanied with his teeth now on my neck as he pumps into me forcefully, repeatedly. With an orgasm so close I shut my eyes tight and dig my nails into his back. C.J. cockily says, “You love when I make that pussy quiver.” The words send me over the edge as I moan louder and his body lifts me up so both of my legs are around his waist and my back is slamming into the counter. Waves of pleasure tear through me violently. I reach my arm back to try to brace myself for the tidal wave orgasm fast approaching and knock a cup onto the floor, glass shattering everywhere. Rather than let the noise deter him from his pounding, it encourages him to drill into me harder.
The excitement from being punished and the added pleasure of the situation elicits a hard cry of his name, “C.J. I’m gonna...I need to...”
“You’re gonna fucking come,” he states his tongue leaning down to taste the sweat coating my body. My body tries to hold off until he bites me like vampire, sucking not only the sweat off of me, but the orgasm out of me. “Fuck, Erin...” the curse has him coming right along with me, the vibrations pulsating between us so hard I feel another small orgasm rush out on the tail end of the last one.
With heavy breaths, the two of us try to regain our composure.
God, do you need a minute too? Go ahead. Take one.
C.J.’s tongue slides out of his mouth and lazily starts exploring my neck and collarbone while his hands loosen my thighs, the chance of bruises on them being high. I whimper at the feeling of his hot tongue and melt my naked body against his.
“Still thinking about the milk man, babe?” the question causes me to smirk at his smug attitude.
Cheeky bastard.
“No...” I wrap my arms around his neck as he turns his face to look down at mine. “Now I’m wondering how much fun you’re going to have cleaning that broken glass up before I start making a cake.”
A smile appears on his face and I feel my heart skip a beat.
Well that’s new.
“It was totally fucking worth it.”
“Definitely.”
Don’t you agree?
***
While C.J. cleans up the glass, I slide on his button up shirt, and begin the adventure of baking. Something I am very good at.
And thanks to my best friend, something I always have a reason to do. The girl has an addiction to cupcakes. I cannot tell you the number I’ve made or the variety. Hell the ones I made for their wedding, were individually flavored and decorated to pay tribute to her and Logan’s nerdy affair.
Once he’s satisfied he’s gotten all the glass up with the broom, the vacuum, and the mop, he wanders over to the dining room table where he leans back in a chair, watching me mix the contents from scratch.
Still deliciously naked might I add.
With a pleased look he rests his face in his propped up hands. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”
Proudly I toss a look over my shoulder. “I do.”
C.J. lets out a light chuckle and shakes his head. “What are you baking?”
“Sinner’s Cake.”
“Seems appropriate.”
Given what we just did in my cooking space, I wanna say that might be an understatement. Hey, no need for the lip while you agree.
“So have you baked for your other boyfriends?”
“You’re not my boyfriend,” I quickly correct him. Even as it slides out of my mouth there’s a twinge of guilt with it.
And why is that? I don’t have any qualms about saying that kind of shit. I don’t do boyfriends. I don’t do relationships. I honestly don’t remember the last time I had this steady of a sexual relationship with a guy. Oh...stop. Keep the scoffs and judgments that it’s not okay to yourself. I get plenty of that shit from my brother. Do you know how much putting your heart in someone else’s hands can fucking hurt? No thank you.
C.J. clears his throat trying to hide the hurt that’s obviously there. “Didn’t say that I was. I was just....asking about your past. Trying to get know more about you than just your bra size.” I smirk at the playful way he tries to calm me down. When I don’t answer he tries again. “Okay. Will you tell me about your last boyfriend?” I stir the mix faster and remain silent. “Will you tell me how many you’ve had?” Silence settles between us once mor
e alongside the rising animosity.
I know you’re thinking I should open up, but I can’t. I just...can’t. And before you go around throwing judgments again, have both your parents die in a suspicious plane crash when you needed them most, then talk to me about opening up.
“Where’d you learn to bake?” The question seems more harmless than the others.
Sprinkling chocolate chips into the batter I answer, “My mom. She was a fantastic cook and baker. In fact when I was eight, I asked for an Easy Bake Oven. So, she made me a mini cake and cut a slice, then a regular sized cake and cut a slice. Afterwards she said to me ‘which one do you want’? And when I responded the big one she explained then I didn’t need an Easy Bake Oven.”
C.J. laughs cheerfully, and I feel an unusual warm sensation come over me, the very real realization that I rarely talk about my mom hitting me. “Sounds like that’s wshere your sassy ass mouth comes from.”
“Oh, if you only knew,” I shake my head and pour the cake batter into the pan. Without thinking about it I rattle off, “She was always giving my dad her attitude. The sassier she got, I swear the more he fell in love with her.”
“Sounds like, we might have had something in common.” His statement causes me to stumble. “What’d your mom do for a living?”
Sliding the pans in the pre-heated oven, I wipe my hands on the rag and sigh, “She had a shit ton of inheritance, so she didn’t actually have to work. But she had a knack for charity work. She was always looking for something like that to help with.”
“And your father?”
I lick my lips and look away unsure that I want to expose that nerve.
“Erin?”
Turning back around I sigh, “He was a high priced lawyer. He came from money too, but unlike mom he enjoyed working. His cases varied. Sometimes they were dangerous and sometimes extremely time consuming. I will say that no matter what, he always made time for me and my brother. Mom too, but...” I straddle C.J.’s lap ready for this conversation to be over. “The plane that crashed was a private jet and suspected of foul play.”