The Swear Jar

by Osorio, Audra

  “About dinner,” he said, slowly. “Would you go out with me tonight?”

  She stiffened, her ears turning red. She came down the ladder, her heart pounding with each step. Her mind went blank as she turned to face Duncan. She fell backwards off the last rung. Her left foot was caught between the bottom and second rung. She hit her head on the floor and slapped herself in the left eye with the cream paintbrush.

  “Miss Meara, are you all right?” Duncan asked anxiously.

  He knelt behind her and propped her up on his thighs. He removed the scrunchie holding her ponytail, putting it in his pocket. Her hair fell free. He ran his hand through her hair, probing the back of her head.

  “That was quite a whack you took. I don’t see any blood or feel any bumps. I’m going to slide you forward so we can release your ankle. How does your ankle feel?”

  Her face was beet red. “My head hurts a little, my ankle’s twisted and I’m so embarrassed. Why can’t I open my eye?”

  He chuckled. “Miss Meara, you’re a lovely shade of cream on the left side of your face. The lighting is bad here. Let’s get you into the women’s restroom so I can clean up your face.”

  He picked her up from the floor, supporting her around the waist. Entering the bathroom, the lighting was much better. He boosted her onto the bathroom counter. She shifted nervously.

  “How bad does it look?” she asked.

  “The paint could get into your eye if you don’t keep it shut. Hold still while I get some wet paper towels.”

  “I have to warn you, I’m a very bad patient.”

  “I’ll use my best bedside manner, Miss Meara. Now hold still.”

  He put his hand on the base of her neck and tilted her head. He wiped the paint from her cheek. He cleaned up her dimple, suppressing the desire to kiss it. Being so close to her was intoxicating. She squirmed as he got closer to her eye. He held her head firmly. She balled her fists. She wanted to push him away.

  “Why are you fidgeting?” he asked.

  “I don’t like people touching me. I know you’re helping me. I can’t help it.”

  “If you move, the paint will get into your eye. That would be bad.”

  Her squirming increased. He stepped back, giving her a moment to relax. Then before she could protest, he pushed her legs open. He ran his hand under her arm, across her back and up into her hair. Wrapping his fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back. She gasped, keeping her eyes closed.

  “Now hold still, Miss Meara,” he growled.

  She panted, wrapping her legs around his. She struggled against him. Whenever he touched her, her skin felt like it was on fire. He was frustrated. As soon as he touched her, she wiggled even more. He wanted to nuzzle her neck.

  “Miss Meara, if you don’t hold still, this will take longer. Miss Meara. I can’t believe you’re doing this. Hold still.”

  “I could probably do it myself now,” she squeaked.

  Her hands were gripping his shirt. Her breathing was ragged. She struggled to get away from him, but she didn’t want to get away. She was feeling something else. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. She wanted him to kiss her and much more. She liked the way he was taking control of her. She wanted to give in to him. Did he desire her as well?

  “No. Hold still.” He was breathing heavily.

  He felt her wrapped around him. He hadn’t meant to push between her legs, but it was the only way to hold her still. He was aroused. He felt her hands on his chest. She was pulling him closer to her. He was losing his self control.

  “Miss Meara. Miss Meara. Hold still. MEARA! Hold still or so help me I will turn you over my knee and spank you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Duncan had no idea why he had said that. Meara was shocked into silence. Quickly, he wiped the paint out of her eye. It was difficult to concentrate because he was aroused. He loved her. He needed to know if she cared about him. She had her eyes closed. She was holding her breath. Her ears and her cheeks were bright red. He gently wiped the side of her face one last time. Her dimple was clean. Giving in to desire, he leaned in and kissed it. She gasped and her eyes flew open. She stole a look at his lips. He kissed her. He pulled away, but she pulled him back. He kissed her again and she returned the pressure.

  She put her hands on either side of his face. She stroked his hair and ears. He wrapped his arms tighter around her waist. They kissed again. The kisses were light and gentle until he nibbled on her lip. She gasped, opening her mouth to meet his tongue. The kisses were more insistent and probing. He stroked her neck. He ran his fingers through her hair and pulled her head back to nuzzle her neck. She gave a light moan. He moved his hands up and down her back. He kissed the swell of her breasts. He found her nipples, using his thumbs to massage them. She let out a low moan as he returned to her lips.

  She couldn’t believe this was happening. She didn’t want him to stop. Having his hands on her breasts made her ache between her legs. She moved her hips closer to him. There was a sharp, throbbing pain from her ankle, but she ignored it. One step ahead of his mind, his hands flew to her buttocks. He massaged them, her breathing coming in rasps. His excitement increased. He roughly slammed her against himself. She gasped aloud. Her eyes were smoldering with naked desire. He wasn’t sure what was going to happen next.

  She whispered, “That’s not a paintbrush in your pocket, is it?”

  “No, it’s not,” he replied, his voice husky.

  They kissed again. He ran his fingers along her neck and up into her hair. She was grasping his shirt by his hips. She ran her hands on his buttocks and gave a low moan. This moan was different. It was a moan of pain. He pulled back. Her eyes were tearing up. She was grimacing.

  “Did I do something wrong?” he asked. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No, Duncan. You haven’t done anything wrong,” she whispered. “It’s my ankle. It has a pulse of its own. It hurts like hell. I’m sorry.”

  She hung her head. He lifted her chin and held her gaze.

  “That’s the first time you’ve called me Duncan. I like hearing you say my name. It’s me who should be sorry. I forgot about your ankle. We should get you home and get it elevated.”

  “But we were kissing. I’m sorry.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Meara, we had our first kiss and our first make out session. I’m not quite sure which base we made it to today. However, I never really envisioned our first time making love to be in a bathroom, did you?”

  She giggled despite the pain. “No, not really.”

  “Then let’s get you home. We have all the time in the world. We can take it slowly.”

  “With the way you kiss, I’m not so sure about that,” she said, smirking. “And with those hands of yours, I’ll have to keep both eyes on you from now on!”

  “You do that. Now I’m going to use my hands to get you off that counter and out to the car. We’ll go in my car. I’ll never be able to figure out your Jeep in the dark. Let’s go, Miss Meara.”

  “After what just happened, we can forgo the formality around each other. Don’t you think?” she smiled, then grimaced. “Pulsing ankle.”

  He lifted her off the counter, whispering in her ear. “Once you’re feeling better, we can talk about that spanking you deserve.”

  She giggled against his shoulder. “Yes, Duncan.”

  He kissed her once on the lips. She sighed. They slowly made their way out of the library and down the path to the parking lot. He helped her into his car, propping up her ankle for the short ride home. She winced.

  “It’s not broken if you can walk on it. Can you wiggle your toes?” he asked, getting into the driver’s seat.

  “Yes, although it hurts. I can move my ankle, but I don’t want to do that with you around. You might get an earful of salty sailor language. You might think less of me.”

  “I doubt you could use any language that would shock me. And I would never think less of you, especially with that dimple of yours. That dimpl
e could get me into lots of trouble, you know.”

  “My dimple’s willing to see how much trouble we can get into when I feel better.”

  “That sounds like a good plan, Meara.” He reached over, stroked her cheek and gave her a kiss on the lips.

  “Hands on the wheel, Duncan. Hands on the wheel,” she giggled.

  The sun was setting as they made the short drive to Meara’s house. Her ankle’s throbbing heartbeat was getting worse. Every time they hit a bump, she swore under her breath. Duncan grinned as Miss Meara used her salty sailor language. As they pulled up to Diana and Ben’s house, she had him follow the long driveway back to her house. Her family would notice the strange car driving up and investigate immediately. Anne wouldn’t be able to contain herself. This was going to be an interesting encounter for all of them.

  Duncan parked the car. “Don’t get out. I’m coming around.”

  “Okay.” Meara squeaked.

  In the twilight, he noticed three people on the back porch of the Victorian house. A man on the bottom step had a concerned look on his face. A woman held back Anne on the top step. Standing by the passenger side door of the car, Duncan waved.

  “Hi, Anne! Hello, you must be Diana and Ben. I’m Duncan Phillips, the library director. I have Meara with me. She’s hurt her ankle.”

  Diana let Anne go. She jumped down the stairs and ran past Ben.

  Anne shrieked. “Mom, Dad, this is Mr. Phillips! How did Aunt Meara hurt herself THIS time?”

  Diana and Ben came over and shook Duncan’s hand. Anne opened the car door. Meara’s face was a mask of pain.

  “What do you mean, THIS time?” she snapped.

  “You’re a klutz. What did you do now?” Anne laughed.

  “I twisted my ankle. Are you going to help me into the house or am I going to sit here and die?”

  “She’s already cranky, Diana. This isn’t good,” said Ben. “Mr. Phillips, can you help me get her inside?”

  “Of course. Please call me Duncan,” he said. “Meara, are you ready?”

  “No, but it’s not going to get any better,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Don’t let her bite you, boys,” Diana said. “Meara, do you have your keys?”

  “Oh, shit,” she hissed. “I left everything at the library.”

  “You owe me a dime!” Anne chirped.

  “ANNE!” Meara yelped. “Not now! Get the spare key!”

  Anne ran off. Ben and Duncan maneuvered Meara out of the car and onto the front porch. She had tears in her eyes from the pain. Anne reappeared with the key. Getting her into the house, Ben and Duncan carefully lowered Meara onto the couch. Diana propped up the ankle with a foot rest and a pillow. Ben, Diana and Anne looked at Meara. She was a mess. Her hair was tousled. Her eyes were red. She was clenching her fists. Duncan felt awkward, but he didn’t want to leave.

  “How are we going to do this? Her ankle needs to be checked. The sneaker and sock have to come off. Is that paint in your hair?” asked Ben.

  “Yes,” Meara replied meekly.

  “How did you get paint in your hair?” asked Diana.

  “I was painting,” Meara said quietly.

  “Do we have a witness?” Anne turned to Duncan. “Did you see what she did?”

  “Yes, I did, as a matter of fact. She was supposed to be done with painting for the night. She fell off the bottom rung of the ladder, twisted her ankle, hit her head and got paint in her eye.”

  Ben, Diana and Anne turned to Duncan in astonishment. Ben laughed out loud while Diana shook her head. Anne danced.

  “You let HER go up a ladder?” Anne laughed.

  “Why? Shouldn’t she go up ladders?” asked Duncan, finally understanding they were teasing Meara.

  “No. Absolutely not!” Anne laughed.

  “How are we going to check her ankle?” asked Ben.

  Diana winked. “Duncan, did Meara ever tell you about the time she had a splinter in her finger?”

  “NO!” roared Meara. “You’re not doing this, Diana. Oh, my head.”

  “You see, Duncan, she doesn’t like to be touched. Going to the doctor is an ordeal. Three of us sat on her while my Nana took out the splinter. Ben will attempt to look at her ankle.”

  “What claim to a medical degree does Ben have?” growled Meara.

  “Boy Scout training, now shut up,” Ben chuckled.

  “What are you going to do, Meara?” Diana taunted gently. “Get up off the couch and smack me?”

  “You people are evil,” Meara resigned herself to being humiliated in front of Duncan.

  They had kissed tonight. They had done some other things as well. Her face was even redder than before, if that was possible. It was going from romantic to embarrassing. Meara squeezed her eyes shut in disgust.

  “Wait a minute,” Anne said, turning to Duncan. “You said she had paint in her eye. She doesn’t now. How did she get it off her face?”

  Duncan and Meara locked eyes. She pleaded with him silently. He winked.

  Duncan murmured, “I got it off.”

  “How on earth did you manage that?” asked Ben, in genuine awe.

  Duncan shrugged. “Beginner’s luck?”

  Meara followed Duncan with her eyes. Ben took the opportunity to carefully remove Meara’s sneaker.

  “Ouch, that hurt, DOCTOR Ben,” Meara hissed.

  Meara was distracted by watching Duncan. Diana nodded to Duncan. He looked around. It was a warm cozy home. It had an open floorplan. He saw the fireplace. On the mantel was a large glass jug with coins in it.

  “What’s that?” asked Duncan.

  Diana beamed. “Anne, why don’t you tell Duncan about the Swear Jar?”

  Anne clapped her hands. “Mr. Phillips, this is the Swear Jar. Every time Aunt Meara uses a swear word, she has to put money in it.”

  “It’s pretty big. There isn’t much change in it. I guess your aunt doesn’t swear so much?”

  “I empty that one when it gets full. There are rules too. The Swear Jar Rules. There are four. Pennies for simple swear words or when you try to fake a word. Dimes for four letter curse words. Quarters for the really bad swear words. Dollars for things like holy macaroni, sugar honey iced tea, and literary quotes that she thinks I don’t understand.”

  Ben worked off Meara’s sock while she was distracted. She didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of Duncan. Ben gently probed her ankle.

  “Check out the water bottle,” Anne said, dragging Duncan to the hall closet. “See? It’s huge!”

  “It’s pretty full,” Duncan said. “I don’t know if I should tell you this, but your aunt used bad language on the way over here. She owes you about five dollars. What are you doing with the money?”

  “I should have money for college textbooks. I could have gotten a whole college education, but she’s mellowed out. I’m a little disappointed since half of the money will go to charity.”

  Duncan chuckled discreetly. Meara had a sour expression on her face. Diana clasped her hands. Ben stood and clapped his hands.

  “Doctor, what’s your diagnosis?” Diana asked mournfully.

  “It’s a sprained ankle,” Ben said dramatically.

  “Well, THANK you, DOCTOR Obvious,” Meara said angrily. “No offense to the Boy Scouts, but is that your expert opinion based on your vast medical knowledge?”

  “It is. Or we can take you to the emergency room.” Ben challenged.

  “No, that’s okay,” responded Meara quietly.

  Ben, Diana, and Anne stood with their arms crossed. Duncan followed suit. Meara squinted at him.

  “Oh, so you’ve joined them, huh?” Meara said.

  “What do we do with her now?” asked Duncan seriously.

  “We should leave her here. She has such a foul attitude,” Diana said.

  “Don’t feed her or give her Tylenol?” asked Ben. “That’s pretty harsh. She does deserve it.”

  “Maybe some time alone will make her appreciate us more,” Ann
e said smirking.

  “Et tu, Anne? Et tu?” Meara said mournfully. “Duncan, you wouldn’t leave me here in pain? You wouldn’t be cruel, would you?”

  “Stand strong, man and don’t look into the light,” Ben said to Duncan. “It’s a trick. She’ll lure you in and then…SNAP.”

  Duncan was about to speak when Meara teared up. She sobbed slightly.

  “I’m sorry everyone. It hurts so much. I’m not so good with pain. I’ll behave. I promise.”

  “You’re a control freak,” Diana said, plopping next to her sister. “It’s fun to tease you, dear.”

  “Oh, my head,” Meara said.

  Diana touched the back of Meara’s head. “That’s going to be a nasty bump.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not clear on how this happened,” said Ben. “Why did you fall off the ladder, twist your ankle and hit your head? And get paint in your eye?”

  “I was painting,” said Meara. “Can I have Tylenol now?”

  “No, not yet. I want to know too. What led you to be a complete klutz? There’s usually a reason why you do these things. Not logical reasons, but reasons,” said Diana.

  Duncan shifted back and forth. Meara silently pleaded with him. He arched his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. Meara was shaking her head.

  “It was my fault,” Duncan said.

  Ben, Diana and Anne looked at Duncan. Meara rolled her eyes and closed them. Duncan couldn’t change the subject now.

  “I made Meara nervous,” said Duncan.

  “How did you manage that?” asked Ben, genuinely astonished.

  “I asked her out on a date,” Duncan replied, grinning impishly.

  “Good shot, Duncan,” Ben said. “I liked you the first minute I met you. That doesn’t explain how you got the paint out of her eye. You must be a miracle worker.”

  “It’s a librarian’s trade secret,” replied Duncan. “I owe Meara dinner. Have you had dinner yet?”

  Chapter Twelve

  “As a matter of fact, no. We debated and decided on pizza. You should be our guest. You were so kind as to bring Meara home after she spazzed out,” chuckled Diana as she got up off the couch.