Loving Jesse

by Smith, Andrea

  “Well, I guess we need to work on that, too.”

  He’s really an awesome guy.

  “I mean I know I’m not your real dad, but you kind of feel like a daughter to me, and I need to think about the fact you’re seventeen and there’s things teen-agers like to do. It’s been awhile since I was a teen,” he explains.

  It doesn’t matter because the fact that he’s just referred to me as kind of being like a daughter to him has me bummed—royally.

  “Thanks,” I say, turning to go to my room and get ready to shower. “I’ll let you know.”

  Once in my room, I feel a plan forming in my hormonal-crazed, teen-aged mind that if nothing else happens this summer, I will lose my cherry.

  One way or another.

  I gather up Catherine’s dolls to take back over to her house. As I near the screen door on the back of the house, I hear Casey’s voice. She must be on the phone with someone. I pause thinking maybe I should come back later until I hear Jesse’s name mentioned.

  “Don’t bet the rent, hun. I will have Jesse Ryan where I want him before the end of the summer, Trish.”

  Pause.

  “You’re gross! I didn’t mean between my legs—not that this won’t have to happen first,” she laughs, “But I mean something more serious than just being friends with benefits, you know?”

  Pause.

  “Yeah—having his stepdaughter here to babysit Scout has put a bit of a wrench in my plans. I mean holy hell, I was sweet enough to offer to watch her myself—for free, but it’s nothing that will interfere with my goal cause I have a plan for that.”

  Pause.

  “No-no, it’s nothing like that—actually, September is a nice girl, but I think maybe she needs a little . . . distraction of her own if you catch my drift?”

  Pause.

  “Jesus H. Christ, Trish! Why the hell do you think I called you? Need it spelled out? The girl is seventeen— so what she needs is an eighteen year-old, handsome, great with the ladies kind of guy to distract her. I mean then—she might not be so much of a teenaged version of Martha Stewart over there.”

  Oh. Fuck. No. She did NOT just refer to me as THAT!

  “Well hell yeah I know where to find that distraction. He lives under your roof sweet sister.”

  Pause.

  “Listen to me, Trish. The girl is cute as a button—or should I say ‘hot’ in male terms? So, I’m having this cookout tonight. Tell Austin if he makes an appearance and gets September to take the bait that I will pay for all of his expenses on their first date—how’s that? You see, I figure if he does a good job of distracting her, she’s gonna want me to pinch hit for her with Scout in order to hang with Austin for the rest of the summer which gives me more access to Jesse.”

  Pause.

  “I know it is fucking brilliant—duh! Just please do your part for the cause sweet sissy? Oh—and tell him she’s got legs up to her neck. Guys love that for some reason.”

  Pause.

  “Seven o’clock and I love you.”

  I quickly and quietly high-tailed it back home once Casey had finished the conversation with her sister

  What a flat out conniving bitch!

  I may be young—but I’ve learned a few things along the way. Now was the perfect time to implement them.

  After all, I put the “C” in conniving . . .

  Chapter 4

  * * *

  Casey’s cookout provides me just the right means to implement my plan—right alongside of hers; and his name is Austin Benedict. He’s the eighteen-year-old nephew I heard her discussing with her sister Trish on the phone earlier, and apparently, he’s down for this gig.

  Now I have to admit that he’s hot. He’s tall, built nicely, and has a kick-ass car. His hair is sandy brown, and he has blue eyes—not nearly as blue as Jesse’s, but close. I’m a sucker for blue eyes—probably because mine are brown and boring.

  Of course, Casey greeted us with a devilish grin right before she introduced us to Austin. It was almost comical when Jesse shook his hand very firmly, but Austin seemed to hold his own, not pulling away first.

  Austin recently graduated high school and has enlisted into the Air Force. He’s leaving for boot camp in September. I like the fact that he’s got a plan and is executing it, along with the fact that he’s a short-timer in these parts only makes my mission that much easier.

  He and I find two chairs together in the backyard, away from everyone else, and settle in for a chat.

  “So, tell me everything about yourself, September—starting with your awesome name,” he says, smiling at me and showing perfectly even, white teeth.

  I feel my cheeks warm a bit as his eyes study me intently. “It’s my birthday month,” I reply with a slight eye roll. “My mom named me after my birth month, probably so she could remember it.”

  “How could she ever forget the month or day an angel from heaven dropped into her life?”

  Oh puhleeze!

  Yeah—he’s smooth. Totally smooth. I snicker to myself. This just might be easier than I thought.

  By the end of the evening, well after dark, the fireworks have started, and I’m not just talking about the ones lighting up the sky. Austin and I have clicked and my purpose is evident—at least to me. He’s perfect for the mission, which I’ve dubbed: Operation Cherry Picker.

  We exchange cell numbers once the evening is ‘officially’ over and he tells me he’ll call or text me tomorrow to see if I wanna hang out with him and some friends.

  “Cool,” I reply, giving him a sexy smile. “Sounds good.”

  And then I watch, thoroughly impressed as he starts his late-model Mustang with a roar, and peels away from the curb into the humid night air.

  I let out a wistful sigh, knowing that Jesse has come out front and is now standing next to me on the sidewalk to make sure I don’t take off with him I suppose.

  “That boy’s a might fast for you,” he comments, I jump as if he’s startled me. “Sorry, hun,” he apologizes. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”

  “S’okay,” I say, watching the red taillights of Austin’s car get smaller and smaller. “You know, I think I can keep up with him just fine.”

  I look up at Jesse and he’s studying me now. It almost seems as if maybe for the first time, he is seeing me as something other than a teenager or stepchild at the very least. Maybe as the woman I’ve become.

  “Casey and I are gonna get Scout and Catherine situated in their tent and then I’ll be staying over there for a bit . . . we’ve got a movie she wants to watch.”

  I’ll bet.

  “Have fun,” I say, giving him the same kind of smile I gave Austin just several minutes before. “See you in the morning.”

  “I’ll be coming back home, September,” he emphasizes the word ‘home.’

  “I know. It’s just that I’m going to bed early tonight. Have plans tomorrow.”

  “With Austin?”

  “Yep. It’s okay, isn’t it?”

  Jesse scratches his head and then looks back down at me. “Depends. What are the dating rules at your grandparents’ house?”

  I’m not about to tell him that. “I have a curfew if that’s what you mean. The guy I was seeing had a car and I was allowed to go out with him in it at times.”

  “We’ll discuss it tomorrow, I guess.”

  And then he is gone. Disappearing around the side of the house towards Casey’s backyard.

  And I know Jesse is going to fuck her tonight. Some female instinct tells me tonight is their night. It’s not even like Casey tries not to be obvious, touching him all of the time, bending over to give him a ringside view of her pushed-up tits. Not to mention that I found a brand new box of condoms in his dresser drawer when I was putting clean laundry away earlier.

  Hmmph!

  I come awake immediately feeling someone tapping my shoulder. It’s Scout. “I peed in my sleeping bag,”
she confesses. “I can’t find Dad.”

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, pulling my legs out from underneath the covers. “Come on, I’ll help you get cleaned up.”

  The clock on my nightstand reads 1:27 a.m. “I guess you should’ve used the bathroom before going into the tent, huh?”

  “Yep,” she agrees, shaking her head. “Where’s Dad?”

  “Oh, I think he was staying to watch a movie with Casey. Did you wake Catherine up?”

  “Nope,” she replies. “She can sleep through anything. But I wanna sleep in my own bed tonight.”

  “That’s fine,” I tell her, getting her clean undies and pj’s. Once she’s safely tucked in, I debate whether or not I should let Jesse know that Scout’s over here. I’m not sure if Casey would want Catherine out in the tent alone.

  I close the door to her room softly, and grab my flip-flops from my bedroom floor. I’m wearing a tee shirt and sleep shorts—nothing Jesse hasn’t seen me in before.

  I walk across the driveway and through the front yard of Casey’s property, hearing the television going from inside. She has central air-conditioning, but for whatever reason, she has one of the side windows that frame the picture window in the living room cranked open.

  As I start towards the steps leading up to the concrete porch I hear it.

  A woman’s moan.

  It’s not a painful sounding moan; it’s a pleasure-sounding moan. And it is familiar to me. I remember hearing that same sound coming from my mother—from her and Jesse’s room—when we all lived together in the trailer that was home.

  She’s being fucked and I know I should go away—quickly and quietly, but I can’t.

  I’m almost eighteen, and with no experience of my own, aside from some petting and an occasional dry-fuck, I’m way curious.

  I move silently over to the window, taking a quick peek inside to make sure they can’t see me.

  They’re on the huge sofa that’s against the opposite wall. Both are naked; Casey is on her knees and Jesse is nailing her from behind. I marvel at the serpent tattoo he has across his upper back. I don’t remember him having that before. It must be kind of new. Both of his hands are braced on each of her hips, drawing her up to him in rhythm.

  I watch in fascination as his dick moves in and out of her with slow, deliberate strokes. Her eyes are closed and she lets out some sort of a primal moan each time he goes balls-deep into her—that’s the only way I can explain it.

  Jesse’s head is tilted back; his face raised to the ceiling as if he’s looking for something there, except his eyes are closed and his rhythm is picking up a bit. I hear manly groans coming from him now and I study each and every movement he makes—wishing it were me on the receiving end of his prick.

  I know that sounds slutty— but I’m not gonna lie; it’s the way I feel. There’s something so powerful, and yet so beautifully arousing at what I’m watching. I feel a moistness settling in between my legs, and my hand drops down to gently rub there.

  The muscles in Jesse’s shoulders and ass are flexing with each powerful thrust. I’m in awe of his physique.

  “Oh God,” Casey rasps, “Don’t stop Jesse, I’m ready to come.”

  “Come on, baby,” Jesse responds, gripping her hips tighter. “I’m right there with you.”

  And they rock into one another perfectly as I hear her moans coming faster and louder; he is grunting as he reaches his climax and his movements stop as he freezes to a standstill.

  “Fuck,” he growls, “Can you feel that?”

  “I can,” she gasps. “Even with the rubber, I can feel you pulse into me.”

  My owns fingers have been working magic with my clit as I watch Jesse give one final shudder and push into her. My breathing is coming faster and I know where this is going, because I’ve done this many times before, but it’s never felt this damn good.

  Before I realize what I’ve done, I hear a moan escape my own lips as I bring myself to orgasm with my fingers.

  Jesse hears something and stops. “Who’s there?”

  Oh God!

  I immediately pull back away from the window, and start hustling out of there, losing my flip-flops in the process. I run silently back towards our house—Jesse’s house. I can only pray that they didn’t see me. I mean there’s no reason for them to think I was out there.

  I quickly shut the door to my room and jump into my bed.

  It seems like just minutes later, I hear the slam of the back door.

  He’s home.

  He checks Scout’s room. He must’ve checked the tent before he came home. He probably wanted to make sure that she and Catherine weren’t the ones window peeping.

  Which only leaves me.

  Shit.

  I close my eyes and force my breathing to sound even as I hear him come to my door and open it gently.

  He observes that I’m sleeping soundly—provided he can’t hear the rapid beat of my heart—and quietly closes the door to my room, making his way to his own.

  Disaster—averted!

  At least that’s what I thought until I awake the following morning and roll outta bed.

  There are my flip-flops, the ones that I’d discarded the night before next to Casey’s hedges, on the carpeted floor right inside my bedroom door.

  Fuck, I’m so busted.

  Chapter 5

  * * *

  I delay making my presence with Jesse, even though I know he’s been up for a while because I can smell the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, along with his usual non-work day breakfast of bacon, grits and scrambled eggs. I can hear the dim chatter of Scout rambling on about something to him in her usual chatterbox style.

  I realize the longer I delay making an appearance, the more suspicious it makes me look, even though I’m pretty damn sure he knows that I saw them.

  Then it occurs to me that he has more to be embarrassed about than I do! And if I play it right, I can probably sprinkle some guilt on the whole thing to help put a wedge between him and Casey.

  I don’t want them together—and it has nothing to do with my mother and the fact that she and Jesse are still married.

  Please.

  I’ve developed this major crush on Jesse—I mean are you surprised? It’s pretty damn obvious, isn’t it? But it’s not an adolescent crush like what I first had on Todd. There’s a sexual edge to this one and that’s totally on me—not Jesse. He’s never been anything but fatherly to me and that part sucks no doubt. It only means that I’ve got my work cut out for me.

  I need to bide my time. The woman in me is telling me that and I will listen because I have to handle this very shrewdly or I’ll look like a total adolescent.

  There’s that word again. Geesh!

  I get up and hurriedly put on a pair of shorts and a tee, brush my teeth and put some semblance of order to my hair. I make my way into the kitchen with my ear buds in, listening to some of my favorite downloaded tunes.

  Jesse and Scout are seated at the kitchen table eating breakfast. He’s set a place for me. The kitchen clock shows that it’s past ten.

  I smile coming into the room, removing my ear buds and setting my phone on the table. “Sorry you had to make breakfast, Jesse. I slept later than usual,” I greet with a smile, acting very nonchalantly even though I’m not feeling that way at all.

  “That’s not a problem. I like doing it when I don’t have to work. You know that.”

  I can tell he’s not buying it. He definitely knows that I know so it’s there’s no getting around the fact that he’s gonna be bringing up the subject later—when Scout is out of earshot. I have time to prepare.

  I put some eggs and bacon on my plate, and grab a slice of toast; making a chore out of spreading jam on it all the while I can still feel his eyes on me.

  “Finished,” Scout declares, pushing her plate aside. “Can I go outside and play now Dad?”

  “Your bed made?” he inquires.


  “Yep.”

  “Okay, brush your teeth and then skedaddle.”

  She takes her plate up to the sink, rinses it and then loads the dishwasher. She’s outta the kitchen like a rocket.

  He gets up and clears his plate and utensils. By the time he’s finished loading them into the dishwasher and refilled his coffee mug, Scout has already slammed out of the house, declaring she’s gonna be over at Catherine’s. I’m picking at my food, my nerves on edge because I know that he’s been patiently waiting for Scout’s exit before he addresses the subject of last night.

  He sits down across from me and takes a sip of coffee. I can tell he’s uneasy about starting the discussion, turning the mug around in his hands. “September,” he starts, trying to choose his words carefully, “Were you watching Casey and me through her window early this morning?”

  There it is—point blank in Jesse style.

  No mirror is needed to show me just how beet-red my face has gotten as I look down at my plate. “I didn’t do it on purpose,” I say which is the God’s honest truth. “Scout came in from the tent because she’d peed in her sleeping bag. I helped her get cleaned up and in dry clothes, but she didn’t want to go back out there. I didn’t think Catherine should be left out there alone without Casey knowing it, so I went over to let her know. I wasn’t spying on purpose. I’m sorry.”

  I finally have the nerve to look over at him to see how acceptable my explanation has been. I catch his frown.

  “Well why didn’t you just ring the bell? Why were you at the front window?”

  Oh God.

  “I was going to,” I blurt. “But then I heard strange noises and I guess I was just . . . curious.”

  “Curious,” he repeats. “Well, I have to tell you that Casey is . . . well, mortified that you’d do that. I mean think about it for a second. You’re damn near eighteen and by this time you know all about the birds and the bees—and about adult relations, am I right?”