Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  “Well, that sounds fun. Do you think he’d teach me if I ever visit?” The thought of Jax putting his hands on Carissa’s back and legs while he pushed her into waves filled me with an irrational jealousy.

  “I guess so.” I walked to the painting and kneeled in front of it. The energy of the piece impressed even me. “You know, being in the ocean somehow brings out my creativity.” I picked up my paintbrush, feeling that familiar rush of excitement when I knew a piece was going to be spectacular. “I wish you could see this. I’ve got the mix of colors perfect. Every time I look at it, I feel like I’m surfing in the tube.”

  “Can you do that yet?”

  “Not hardly. That’s a pretty advanced move. You need powerful waves. But you should see Jax when he’s in the tube. Watching that man surf is poetry.”

  She chuckled. “You sound pretty fired up.”

  I smiled. Every time I thought of surfing with Jax, I felt a thrill. “Listen to me going on about surfing. How are you doing?”

  “Same old stuff. Waiting tables, working late. Corralling the drunks who like to hang out drinking tequila.” She laughed. “Some of these folks up here need to get a life. I have to practically shove them into the street at closing time.”

  I was not missing my bohemian life in Santa Fe. “I remember those drunks well. But look at the bright side. They get to hang out with you.”

  She chuckled. “One of these day’s I’m following your lead and getting a life.”

  “Hey, I’ve got to go. I need to put the finishing touches on this so it’s dry to the touch before the party.”

  We hung up the phone and I cranked up my music. My paintbrush moved across the canvas with sure strokes, the power of the ocean scene and the lightheartedness of being with Jax filling me with contentment. He was going to love it.

  * * *

  Walking up the steps to Lydia and Troy’s house, I heard Tyler’s guitar screaming out a tune. I knocked on the door and it opened even before I had a chance to knock twice.

  Jax swung the door open so fast that I hopped backward. “Hey Rosalyn!”

  “Happy birthday, sweetheart.” I handed him the wrapped present and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  He accepted the package and his face turned crimson. His innocence was adorable. “For me? Thanks.” He stepped aside. “Come on in.”

  I stepped into the living room and sat on the sofa next to Tyler. “Hey, Rosalyn,” he said. His eyes barely strayed from the fret board.

  Lydia said, “Tyler, put that thing down and say hello to Rosalyn. Where are your manners? Ask her if she wants a drink.” Tyler let out a sigh, set the guitar aside, and gave me a lopsided grin.

  Jax hovered over the sofa. “Rosalyn, what would you like to drink?”

  “Water’s fine.”

  Tyler popped off the sofa and swaggered into the kitchen, flicking his long hair over one shoulder. “I’ll get it, Jax.”

  “No, I’ll get it,” Jax said, nudging his brother out of the way.

  Lydia laughed. “I guess you’ll both get the drink.” I stood to give Lydia a hug. When she pulled away she gave me the once over, her face beaming. “Look at you. I think California agrees with you. You’re tan, in fact you’re almost glowing. Have you been working out?”

  Jax raced to my side and handed me the glass of water. “Rosalyn’s getting to be a pretty good surfer.”

  I accepted the drink and took a sip. “Not that good.”

  Lydia said, “Jax gives great surf lessons.” She placed an arm around Jax. “That’s so sweet of you to help out, honey.”

  “Stop it, Mom. You’re embarrassing me.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re almost a man now,” she said. “Pretty soon you’ll have babies of your own and be all grown up and …” Lydia’s eyes misted over then she straightened. “Look at me. This is a birthday dinner. Let’s have fun.”

  The garage door opened and Troy walked into the living room. “Hey everyone!” He winked at Jax. “Don’t get any ideas about checking out the garage. Your present’s in there.”

  The five of us went to work setting the table and helping Lydia with her famous lasagna, garlic bread, and a green salad. Jax and Tyler were so helpful around the kitchen and it warmed my heart the way they interacted with their mom and dad. Maybe one day I would have a family scene like that of my own.

  After dinner, Lydia dimmed the lights in the living room. “Rosalyn, help me in the kitchen, will you?” While the rest of the family relaxed, Lydia and I lit the candles on the cake. “Eighteen. I can’t believe it,” she said. “Seems like just yesterday the boys were my little babies.”

  I leaned over the cake with a match. “Wouldn’t want to burn the house down with all these candles.” I blew the match out. “Jax is great, Lydia. You must be proud.”

  “Birthdays always make me realize I’m that much closer to losing them.” She smiled and picked up the delicacy. We walked into the dining room.

  Tyler stood with his electric guitar. He smiled up at us and the opening chords of “Happy Birthday” shrieked to life. His fingers moved with dexterity over the fret board, reminding me of Jimi Hendrix playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” at Woodstock. The piercing notes reverberated in my chest. We all broke into a rip-roaring rendition of the song. Jax beamed, his smiling eyes connecting with everyone, finally settling on me. Then he leaned forward and blew out the candles. The song ended with one vibrant note that filled the room.

  “Thanks, guys. My favorite! Carrot cake.” He grinned at his brother. “Tyler, you sure know how to shred it.” He picked up a knife and cut five pieces to pass around the table.

  We dug into dessert. Tyler handed Jax a card and a brown paper bag with the lettering, “In-The-Hook Surf Shop.” Jax sifted through the bag. “A surf comb! Cool.” His hand reached further into the bag. “Surf wax.” He laid three bars of SexWax on the table. “A man can always use more surf wax.” Lydia’s present to Jax was an expensive looking plaid shirt along with several surf T-shirts. Jax stood up, holding the plaid shirt against his chest. “This’ll come in handy at the beach.”

  Lydia said, “Don’t ruin it! It’s meant to be something nice, if you have a date.”

  “Whoever the lucky lady is, she’d better surf.” Then, Troy went into the garage and returned with an awkwardly wrapped, large present. “I wonder what this is?” Jax said, a twinkle in his eye. He tore at the wrapping paper and unveiled a brand-new surfboard with the name “Fresh Pineapple” written in artistic script on the top of the board. Jax’s expression was pure joy. “A Bill Shrosbree board!”

  Tyler said, “He makes the best.”

  Troy clapped Jax on the back. “Be ready to paddle out this weekend. You and I are taking her for a spin.”

  My heartbeat sped up when I handed Jax my present. I was always nervous about how my artwork would be received. “I hope you like it.” I dropped into my chair and leaned forward slightly as Jax removed the wrapping paper.

  When he saw the painting, he gasped and his fingers touched his parted lips. “Whoa! This is amazing.” His fingers ran lightly over the surface.

  “It’s dry to the touch,” I said, “I’ll cover it in varnish in a few weeks.”

  Troy, Lydia and Tyler left their seats and stood behind Jax to admire the painting.

  “It makes me feel like I’m in the ocean,” Troy said.

  “This is gorgeous,” Lydia said.

  Tyler lifted the painting and squinted his eyes. “It looks just like Jax.”

  Jax gazed at me, his smile broad. “This is the best. He stood up, walked to my chair and, towering over me, hugged me. “Thank you.”

  My cheeks burned hot. I never enjoyed having attention on my art. Did they really like it or were they just saying that? It felt like they were examining a part of me, like they were peering into my soul. “I’m glad you like it. Happy birthday, sweetie.”

  The five of us enjoyed the rest of the evening, eating birthday cake and playing Scrabble (
Troy won) until finally we were all yawning. This was such a far cry from my years in Santa Fe where I had spent my evenings getting high with my friends, and then rising with the sun for another day of painting, followed by another night of waitressing. Watching the way Troy and Lydia looked at each other and being part of their family made my throat constrict. I had always wanted that.

  When the evening ended, Jax walked me out to my car while Lydia stood at the door, waving. Jax hugged me and I inhaled his scent, a mixture of sea air and musk. His blue eyes shone bright. “Thanks for the present, Roz. It really is the best.”

  “You’re welcome, honey.”

  The screen door slammed; Lydia left Jax and me alone in the dark.

  I don’t know if it was the excitement of how much he had loved the painting, or the fact that I hadn’t been close to a man in a while, but suddenly, I wanted to touch Jax. I reached out and hugged him again. He clutched me close. His breathing sped up as his hand trailed to the small of my back, making me gasp. I pulled away. His eyes searched mine and he swallowed hard.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay, then, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I made for Ol’ Betsy, but Jax was ahead of me, holding the door open. As I sped home, I couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body had felt against mine.

  Jax

  A few days after the party, I was at home, lying on my twin bed watching a rerun of Buffy the Vampire Slayer—don’t laugh, Sarah Michelle Gellar was hot—when everything changed.

  I’d been getting ready to jack off, and had a porno magazine in my lap. Forget about Penthouse, that was for amateurs. This magazine was more hard core. I’d been able to buy it at a place in downtown San Diego, one with triple X in red neon on the front window. I paged through the magazine, my heartbeat speeding up. The pictures showed red hot photos of sexy ladies with their legs spread, a splash of flesh and pink. I had my sweatpants on; that always made things easier. It surprised me when I heard Rosalyn’s car pull up.

  “Hey,” she yelled, coming through the front door. “Anybody home?”

  I quickly stashed my magazine under the mattress.

  “In here,” I yelled.

  “Hey baby,” she said, “Just doing a little laundry.” She flung a blue mesh laundry bag onto the foot of my bed. “Your mom won’t mind will she? It’s either here or the laundromat, and that place gives me the creeps.”

  She dropped down on the bed next to me. “Scoot over. What’re you watching?”

  “Buffy.”

  “Oh, I love this show,” she said, clapping her hands together. Then she got up to start the laundry and bustled into the kitchen, making herself at home. I could hear her getting stuff out of the fridge and pouring something into a glass while I laid there and tried to cover my hard-on.

  She returned to my room and fell onto the bed with me. “Scoot over,” she said, then grabbed a joint from her bag, and handed me a lighter. “Where’s Tyler?”

  “Where else? Practicing with his band.”

  “When’s he coming home?”

  I shrugged. “Couple hours.”

  Her gaze roamed the room, and she glanced at the window. “Your mom and dad won’t be home from work till after five, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Groovy. Make sure you open windows and light some incense before they get home. Wouldn’t want your folks mad at me,” she said. She nodded toward the lighter. “Do the honors, will you?” I flicked her purple lighter, and soon the room filled with the skunky aroma of marijuana. She took a deep toke, held her breath, and let it out in one steady stream. “Damn, that’s good,” she said falling back against the pillows.

  My bed was small. With the two of us jammed together, I felt the heat of her soft skin against mine, inhaled the sandalwood scent of her, felt her hair brushing against my shoulder. She took another two tokes and then sat up. “Got to save this for later. I’m starting to feel woozy.” She bent over and crushed the joint out on the side of one of my free weights then stashed the joint in her purse.

  “Hey, what’s this you got here?” she said, pulling my dirty magazine out of its hiding place. “Hot and Ready Cougars,” she read.

  “Gimme that,” I said, grabbing for the magazine.

  “Wait! I need to check it out.” She held the magazine out of reach and quickly flipped through its pages, revealing the centerfold, which fell open to a lewd photo of a hot babe with her legs spread. She let out a low whistle.

  “I said, gimme that. Roz, I’m not kidding.”

  She jerked this way and that as though this was some kind of game. Laughing, she said, “Why, Jax Priest, have you been looking at dirty magazines?”

  My face grew hot.

  She sank back against the pillows. “Here’s your magazine.”

  I wrenched it away from her and threw it onto my brother’s bed, where it opened to a photo of a dark-haired beauty bent over a Harley Davidson, her boobs making contact with the leather seat and her private parts on display. Rosalyn covered her mouth and giggled.

  I couldn’t wait for Rosalyn to leave. I’d never been so embarrassed. “Don’t you have to get home to Leo?”

  “Why? Laundry’s not done. Besides, it’s so much more fun here.” She moved her hand to my crotch. “It looks like handsome Jackie Boy has got himself a good ole hard-on.”

  When her hand touched my cock through the flimsy material of the sweatpants, my heart raced and my head went into another stratosphere.

  “You been holding out on me babe. Didn’t know you had such a nice one.” She traced her fingers lightly over the outline of my erection.

  My experience with women up to that point was minimal. I had just turned eighteen, but there hadn’t been any real action with girls. I had some pretty good make out sessions under my belt, and had even come in my jeans a few times during those sessions (that was embarrassing), but I hadn’t had sex with anyone yet, or even a hand job.

  “You mind?” she said, cooing and stroking. “Let’s see what you got under there.”

  I leaned my head back against the pillows and watched as her hand moved beneath the fabric. My breathing came fast now. “Oh baby, you’re nice and hard. Can I stroke it?” I didn’t think I could talk if I wanted to, and slid down the pillows a little, my pelvis reaching up toward her hand. Her hand felt warm, soft, and firm as she stroked. My heart went wild, and about ten seconds into her touching me I came all over her hand, my stomach and my sweatpants.

  “Well, look at what just happened,” she said with a smile.

  She walked into the bathroom and came back with a towel. “Here you go sweetie.”

  Then she hopped into bed with me like nothing had happened, dug through her bag for her joint, and lit up again. She took a long toke then exhaled. “Good weed. Bought it from a dude down in the Gas Lamp District.”

  “What are you doing hanging out down there?” I said, my head still buzzing from the surreality of what had just gone down. “That place is not safe. You need to take me with you.”

  “Okay, honey, I’ll make sure to take my bodyguard next time.”

  We watched Buffy. While Rosalyn transferred her laundry to the dryer, I quickly jumped up, removed my wet sweatpants and changed into jeans, then lay on the bed again.

  What did Rosalyn want me to say? What should I do? She hopped on the bed again, and we watched another episode of Buffy while Rosalyn smoked one joint then lit another. I didn’t know what to do, so I turned up the volume on the TV. Rosalyn smoked so much pot that her eyes got droopy and finally closed.

  I checked out her sleeping body. My gaze roamed over her perky breasts, and her yoga pants that were so tight I could see the outline of her crotch. I started getting hard again and knew if I wasn’t careful, I would come right then and there. I wanted so badly to reach out and touch her breasts, feel her hair. I forced myself to think about math problems and the wrinkled old ladies who worked the lunch line at the school cafeteria.

  “Oh! I must’ve dozed,” she said,
jolting awake when the buzzer on the dryer sounded.

  She jumped off the bed, gathered the laundry, and stuffed it into the bag. I tried not to look at her, but out of the corner of my eye, I spied her sexy underwear and bras. She flung the bag over her shoulder, leaned over the bed, and put her index finger to my lips. “See ya later, sweetie.”

  And just like that, she was gone.

  Had that really happened? Was it a dream? Rosalyn hadn’t given any indication of flirtation before. I’d been crazy attracted to her, but she was strictly off limits. Rosalyn was my mother’s friend. Holy smokes, my mom would totally freak if she found out about this. How super bizarre that of all the guys a sexy lady like Rosalyn could’ve had, she chose me. Me! I knew it was wrong, but Jesus fucking Christ that was hot.

  I laid in my twin bed, and it took forever for my stomach to stop that crazy flip-flop thing, for my head to stop buzzing and my body to stop tingling.

  So that’s what it feels like when it’s good.

  Even though I knew it was taboo, I was so excited that I wanted to share it. That was the first time a real live woman (woman!) had touched me sexually. I was dying to tell Tyler. But I couldn’t. What had just happened was top secret, between only Rosalyn and me.

  I smiled, clasping my hands over my chest, my heartbeat a happy, steady thrum. I stretched my arms over my head like a cat, feeling satisfaction course through me.

  The rest of that day, all I could think about was the next time I’d get Rosalyn alone. I’d been so blown away by the incident that while she was there, I could barely move. But the next time we were together, I promised myself, I’d come up with something to say, something clever to convince her that we should go a little further.

  But would she let me?