Mom sat on the sofa and lit her bong. “I like this one, Roz.”
I gave a fake smile as my ears grew impossibly hot. The room was quiet, the Led Zeppelin album over. My mom lit up and inhaled her stuff, followed by a particularly terrible bout of coughing. All my life friends had come over and witnessed my parents getting high. But seeing my home life through Dominick’s eyes made me hot with shame. Bowing my head, I flicked my gaze at Dominick, but it didn’t look like he thought anything was out of the ordinary. Yep, just another screwed up day at good ol’ Casa Richards.
Long seconds passed, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I said, “Dominick has to get home.” Moving to his side, I grabbed his elbow and ushered him to the door.
His eyes grew wide. “I do?”
I practically shoved him out the door. “Yes, you do. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.” I returned to the canvas and glanced at Mom. She was already well into her haze.
* * *
“Are you mad at me?” I asked my best friend.
Carissa stood on her yoga mat performing a flawless tree posture, her right heel tucked perfectly into her crotch, her hands in prayer position. “Why would I be?”
I inhaled deeply, released my foot from tree posture and took in the view. One of our favorite activities was practicing yoga in the grass on the bluff above the ocean, the expanse of the Pacific laid out like a masterpiece at our feet. “It wasn’t my idea to switch partners in art class. Dominick said something to Mr. Thomas to make him change his mind.”
She bent forward at the waist, moving into toe-stand, her legs bent underneath, her hands still in prayer as she stared straight ahead. “And I got stuck with dorky Eric.”
A gentle ocean breeze ruffled my hair. “He’s not that dorky. And he really is the best at sketching.”
Carissa’s hands touched her mat, and she pushed herself back up to standing. “Of course, I’m not mad at you.” She released her foot. “Now are you going to let me concentrate or not?” She studied me. “Let’s take a break for a minute.” She collapsed on her yoga mat and patted mine. We sat cross-legged facing each other. “So, what’s going on between you and Dominick?”
My face grew hot, and I turned my head. “We’re just working on the painting together.”
“Alone? At your house?”
I straightened my spine and looked at my best friend. “I have better art supplies than that cheap stuff they give us to use at school.”
“Come on. I know you. The minute you get a hot guy alone, you’re checking the clock to see how fast you can get your clothes off before your folks get home from work.”
Filled with shame, I twisted a lock of hair around my fingers. “I don’t want it to be that way with Dominick.”
“Why not? He’s only the most interesting person to land in Point Loma in pretty much ever.”
I smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle on my yoga pants and glanced up at Carissa. “Do you ever wish you could be a virgin again?”
Her eyebrows knit together. “What fun would that be?” She nudged my leg. “Why are you thinking about this stuff?”
“Promise you won’t make fun of me?”
“Go on.”
“It’s just that I really like Dominick. I want him to respect me. Maybe we could even have something serious, not just sex.”
She screwed her face up. “He is different from the other surfers around town. But I know you. How are you going to keep your hands off him? What’s it like being alone with him?”
I smiled. “I can’t stop undressing him in my mind.” I reached out and touched her leg. “But there’s more to him. You should see the way he talks about his surfing life. He’s a pro, not like all these other screw-ups around here.” I leaned forward. “I could see myself having a life with Dominick.”
“But you just met him.”
“I know. But I want things to be better with him.”
Carissa broke into a grin. “You keep dreaming. Maybe you two can go to Disneyland and wish upon a star.”
“Stop making fun of me.”
“Oh, lighten up, Roz. Yeah, the guy’s hot. I say you just see where life takes you.” She stood up. “Now let’s finish our routine.”
Chapter Four
Monday morning at the end of art class, Dominick told me, “The waves are killer today. I know I promised you we could work on the painting at your house, but I need to surf.”
My body deflated. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Will you come to the beach today and we can go to your house after?”
“Sure. I’ll meet you there.”
Somehow, I made it through the rest of the school day, but every time I thought of Dominick, I tingled all over, and there was a fluttery feeling in my stomach. Mercifully, the final bell rang, and I raced to the beach.
Spreading my towel on the sand, I inhaled deeply of the invigorating ocean air, feeling more alive than I had in a while. I sat on the edge of the towel, dug my toes into the sand, and scanned the ocean for Dominick. The lineup was the usual mixture of surfers in their wetsuit-clad bodies, one indistinguishable from the next. And then I spotted him, his long hair whipping behind him as he executed perfect bottom turns, cutbacks and even rode the lip, his board hovering on the high point of the wave for precarious moments before reentering the wave to shore.
After about an hour, Dominick rode his final wave, tucked his board under his arm and strode toward me. His long hair dripped seawater on my skirt when he leaned forward to set his board down. His foot nudged mine. “There’s the beautiful artist I get to work with today.” He sat next to me. “I hope you weren’t bored waiting.”
My fingers sifted through the sand. “No, I wasn’t bored. Where’d you learn all those maneuvers?”
“Home, mostly.” He folded his arms over his legs and gazed at the ocean. “My dad taught me.” He looked at me. “But you’re getting sunburnt. Let’s get out of here.” He stood up, extended a hand and helped me up.
Dominick strapped his surfboard to the top of the car. I tried not to stare at the way his lean body stretched over the vehicle, his strong arms pulling the straps tight.
“Where’d you get this car?” I asked.
He peered over his shoulder. “My aunt loaned it to me. I convinced her I need to drive to different surf breaks.” He winked at me. “She’s a softie. My mom, not so much.”
After he performed a towel change and pulled on jeans and T-shirt, we were off. Dominick cranked his music so loud that conversation was impossible. His foot pressed down hard on the accelerator, and the car shot forward. I clutched the dashboard as he wove in and out of traffic, my heart racing.
When we arrived at home, my folks were still at work and Sonny greeted us. “Hey sweetie,” I crooned.
Dominick lifted the kitty up into a hug and made himself at home on the sofa while I got us drinks. He slouched down on the couch, his feet up on the coffee table. “Ah, feels good to relax after a great session like that.”
I handed him an ice tea, and he took a long swig. I watched the way he toyed with the glass, his long fingers caressing the condensation, then licking the liquid off his fingers with his tongue. I shifted uncomfortably. He set the glass down. “You know Rosalyn, there’s another way to relax after surfing.”
“And what would that be?”
He popped up off the sofa, drifted over to the bookcase and picked up the bong, holding it aloft. “This.”
I put my hands up in front of me. “No. That’s my folks’.”
“But they’ll never know. It smells like weed in here all the time anyway.”
“They’ll know because—”
“Come on, Rosalyn. We’ll just take a toke or two. Please?” He licked his lips and smiled. Did he think pot would loosen me up? I’d heard that sex was great if you were stoned.
I crossed my arms. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“The bowl’s filled with stuff already. We’ll just light up and take a toke.” He sat
next to me and my side of the sofa bounced up. “Look at you, acting so serious with your arms crossed. Let’s have a little fun. When’s your mom coming home?”
“An hour or so.”
“Plenty of time. Where’s the lighter?”
“Forget it. Let’s work on the painting.”
“We will. In fact, we’ll be even more inspired once this hits our bloodstreams.” He set the bong down and stood up. “Let’s play that Led Zeppelin again and set the mood.”
I jumped off the sofa as he was removing the album from its sleeve and grabbed his arm. “No.”
In a childlike voice, he said, “Just a teeny weeny toke?” The look he gave me was so playful, his smile so endearing that I burst out laughing.
Did I really want to try pot? I didn’t relish the thought of sitting around in a haze like my parents, but at the same time, my heart raced with anticipation of doing something taboo with Dominick. Maybe I’d try it just this once. I’d heard that the first time a person smoked pot, it didn’t even get them high.
“Okay. You win. I’ll get the lighter.”
Dominick moved to the stereo and cranked the Led Zeppelin. He arranged his body on the sofa next to me and his warm arm brushed mine. His smile was magnetic when he handed me the bong. “I’ll light it for you. Ladies first.” My palms grew sweaty as I gripped the bong. Dominick placed one arm around my shoulder, his green eyes amused. “How do you do this?” He flicked the lighter, and the embers came alive. If I was going to smoke, I had to impress Dominick. I inhaled deeply. He grinned. “Suck it in.” I held the smoke in, and my lungs protested like crazy. I erupted in a coughing fit, my eyes tearing, my throat burning. “Are you okay?”
I covered my mouth with my hand, nodded and passed the bong to Dominick.
He sat forward, held the lighter to the bong and inhaled. He was so sexy. I wished that his mouth were on mine instead of the pipe. His lungs heaved, a smile on pursed lips as he held the smoke. He finally blew it out in one steady stream.
He handed the bong back to me; I took another hesitant toke and blew it out. I’d watched my folks smoke so many times and decided to go for it. I took a deep toke and held it in as long as possible. I held the smoke, I felt a peculiar tingling sensation and my heart sped up. I exhaled forcibly. Dominick smiled, and I burst out laughing. He took the bong out of my hand. “What’s so funny?”
I covered my mouth with my hand. “Nothing. Just … everything.” I leaned back against the sofa, my body relaxed. I looked at our painting. “You know, I never noticed how vibrant that cerulean blue we used for the wave is. It makes me feel like I’m in the ocean. Like I’m floating right there in the picture.”
The embers of the weed had died down, and Dominick held the lighter over the bowl. “Honey, I think you’re high.”
I played with a long strand of my curly hair. “Who? Me? Never.” Suddenly I wanted another toke. “Give me that thing.”
He held it away. “Only if you say pretty please.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. “You are going to make me tackle you if you tease me like that again.” He handed me the bong, and I took another toke. This time, my head felt like an airplane flying high above the clouds, then landing in one exquisite whoosh. I set the bong down.
Dominick picked it up, then set it down again. “I think we’ve had enough. Why didn’t you tell me this stuff was so strong?”
I kicked his leg. “Are you a wuss, Mr. pro surfer?”
He shoved me. “You, Ms. Rosalyn, had better not make fun of me.”
Robert Plant’s sensuous voice permeated my being. It was as though my heart synchronized with every drumbeat, like the bass guitar flowed through my veins. I couldn’t remember music feeling like that, and I wanted to dance. Jumping off the sofa, I twirled to the music. A small smile played on Dominick’s lips. “I thought you wanted to work on the painting?”
I stopped moving. “You’re no fun. Don’t they know how to party in Brazil?”
“We party. In the ocean.” He stood up and sauntered over to the painting. “I wish I could paint as well as you.” He looked at me. “Dance again. I like the way you move.”
My throat felt dry, almost like I couldn’t swallow. I picked up my glass and crossed into the kitchen. “After I refill my drink. Want some?”
Cool air from the open fridge hit my body, and I sensed Dominick’s warmth behind me. The next thing I knew, his hand was in my hair. “I love your wild hair,” he whispered. He moved my mane to the side and kissed my neck. “Ah, you smell so good minha flor.” His wet tongue was on my neck, then on my earlobe, softly nibbling. Goosebumps covered my body. “I love your creamy skin. It’s so soft.”
I spun around, and our eyes met. Dominick’s exotic green eyes were half-lidded, filled with sensuality. The music faded into the background, and all I could hear was Dominick’s heavy breathing. My heartbeat sped up, and I felt the slick wetness of my excitement. I inhaled his delicious scent. Dominick released a heady aroma of male sexuality, salt water mixed with delicious male sweat. I looked up at him. His lips were the most full, luscious lips I’d ever seen on a man. Dominick was almost beautiful. He licked his lips. Then he kissed me.
When his lips touched mine, my legs shook. I let out a sigh as his warm tongue entered my mouth. He tasted like seawater mixed with my parent’s weed. I sank into his arms, my body supported by his. One hand caressed my cheek, the other sliding down to my ass and yanking me to his body as we explored each other’s tongues. His hand kneaded my scalp, and he tugged gently on my hair. My breathing became ragged as I pressed my pelvis into his and felt the burning of his hard-on. His hands moved up and down the length of my back and waist, and I shuddered. We pulled away for a moment. “Oh, Rosalyn. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to kiss you?” He stared at me, and I closed my eyes, leaning forward, pressing my lips to his. His soft, pillowy lips covered mine again. The kiss started out slow, then turned deep and passionate.
We were so lost in the moment that we almost didn’t hear my mother clatter up the front porch. When I heard the screen door squeak, I pulled away abruptly and smoothed out my hair. Dominick chuckled. He whispered, “Don’t think that’s our last kiss. I always finish what I start.”
“Hey sugar, I’m home,” Mom said as Sonny raced to the door to greet her. She stopped in the middle of the living room. “Oh. Hi, Dominick.”
I said, “Hi, Mom! Yes, we’re working on our project. It’s due in a few weeks, and we were just getting a drink and then I was going to feed Sonny and then I was going to show Dominick how to mix the white to get the right color for the clouds and then—”
“You okay, honey?” Mom said.
“Hello, Mrs. Richards.” Dominick strode into the living room and shook my mother’s hand. It’s so good to see you again. Can I get you a drink?”
“Why that’d be real nice, hon.”
Like he owned the place, Dominick made a grand sweeping gesture toward the sofa. “I’ll bet you work hard. Sit. Relax.”
Mom sat on the sofa and kicked her shoes off. “Get me my bong, will you Roz?”
“Mom, do you have to—”
“I’ll get it for you if you’d like,” Dominick said. “Rosalyn, get your mom a drink.”
“Why thanks, sugar.”
Dominick handed my mom her bong, and I brought her a cold drink.
And what followed was a tense thirty minutes as Dominick, and I worked on the painting while my mother watched. The whole time my lips felt branded by Dominick’s kiss and I was certain that my mom would notice something different about me. I couldn’t get Dominick out of there fast enough.
Chapter Five
The night of our first kiss, I barely slept, visions of Dominick’s hot sexy body pinning me to the mattress, fucking me hard until I screamed, disrupting slumber. I couldn’t wait to see him at school, but the following day when I entered Mr. Thomas’s art class, expecting to see my sexy Brazilian surfer, his chair was empty. I spent the hour fiddlin
g with my colored pencils, attempting to sketch, but all that came out were doodles of hearts and my silly school girl attempt at my new signature: Rosalyn Cortes. I finally gave up and slouched in my seat, a heaviness in my body.
After school, Carissa and I headed down to the beach.
“There’s your lover boy.” Carissa stood and pointed him out in the lineup. “I suppose the waves are more important than class.” Tension I hadn’t realized I was holding flooded out of me as I let out a huge breath.
We settled ourselves on the sand. “Dominick has to train,” I said.
“For what? He got kicked off the tour.”
I nudged Carissa, bursting with my news. I felt like jumping up and dancing. “Can you keep a secret?” I gave her a slow smile. “Dominick kissed me yesterday.”
Carissa spun around to face me. “He did? Where? What happened? Is he a good kisser? Tell me. Tell me!”
I toyed with the edge of my skirt. “It was in the kitchen when he came over to work on the painting. And yes, he’s a great kisser.” My smile was broad when I looked at my friend. “We smoked pot.”
“What?! You hate that stuff.”
“It’s not so bad.”
“But you always told me you didn’t want to be like your folks. Are you going to do it again?”
“Kiss Dominick? I hope so.”
And then there he was. Dominick emerged from the ocean, his wetsuit-clad body slick with moisture, his dark hair dripping with seawater.
He waved, then knelt down in front of us, his surfboard laid over his lap and grinned. “I thought that was you I saw from the ocean. Did I miss anything in school?”
Carissa said, “Just Rosalyn.”
He smiled and touched my chin. “Can we work on the painting when I’m done with my session?”
“Sure.”
He stood up, faced the ocean and shielded his eyes with one hand. “I’m going to surf another hour, and then we can go?”
“Sounds good.”
He crouched down again and extracted a section of surf wax from the sleeve of his wetsuit and re-waxed his board. “The sun’s practically melting the wax right off.” He stood up. “Okay, see you in a bit.” He jogged away with a wave.
Pleasure Point: The Complete Series Page 3