by Jess Bentley
[changes start here]
I get out of bed, tucking the blankets back into place behind me and fluffing the pillows. This is the one place in the house that hasn’t changed. Her scent has not yet invaded this room. The sheets haven’t yet succumbed to her weight.
Yet.
Wait.
Am I really thinking that?
Yes I am. The bed is made but I just stare at it for a few moments, tempting myself with thoughts of her invasion here. How the left pillow would indent under her hair. How her long legs would extend under the blankets, creating a whole new topography above the bedspread. A whole new warmth underneath.
New shapes to explore, new valleys to traverse. The feral, heated presence of another animal in my den constantly reminding me of my own human presence.
Okay, but that’s not going to happen.
Aggravated with myself, I turn to my dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out a pair of cotton briefs and some shorts. I need a run. I need to clear my head.
But she keeps popping back into my consciousness, like all those small hints of her around the house. I try to concentrate on other things, but there she is.
I need to relieve this pressure. How much is one man supposed to endure?
Staring at the bed, the empty space there, I can almost see a ghost of her. Her sweet smile, her welcoming stare. The fresh shorts drop from my fingers as I stare back at the invisible image, letting my body respond to that promise.
My hand drifts down my abdomen, finding my cock already stiff and bulging with urgency. As I wrap my fingers around it, the longing swells intensely.
I can’t resist. I know it. I need this release.
My free hand grips the bedpost as I jerk myself much slower than I want to, letting the image of her solidify. Her hair fanned over the pillow. Her shoulder just visible above the blanket. She bites her lower lip and mouths my name as she pulls the blanket down. Inviting me in, begging me…
As the heat builds in my abdomen and under my balls, I feel that familiar clench and remember that it's been a long, long time since I've been with a woman. Work has taken over my life to such an extent that I can't make the time for someone the way that another person deserves.
I shouldn’t. I don’t need this distraction either. It will go away if I ignore it. I should stop now...
I have to give in. I have to take the edge off. It’s too much to keep going around like this. Something has to give.
As I stroke my shaft firmly in my palm, I grip the bedpost tighter. It feels so good, amazingly good. Better than I would have expected. The ghost of her keeps taunting me, dragging me further down the path.
The image of her bare throat flashes through my mind. Her chest heaving slightly as she pushes the blankets down further. Her hips swiveling back and forth as she wriggles against the blankets, begging me to join her. Her graceful hands, digging against the sheets.
In moments I'm thrusting harder into my fist, letting the urgency build. I can imagine her finally kicking the blankets the rest of the way down, exposing her slender, long legs. The pink swatch of her panties is just barely visible before she lunges forward, crawling to meet me. Then she is touching me, wrapping those long fingers around me, teasing me with her featherlight touch. Wanting to please me, letting me please her. Her eyes half-lidded and intense. Her breath through her parted lips.
I come so quickly, so explosively it takes me by surprise. I hear myself bark out a single word as orgasm explodes through me:
“Kita!”
And I want to be ashamed, but as I shoot my load over the bedspread, I listen to my heart pounding and feel that delicious bliss, that silvery sense of relief that comes soon after. In those few seconds, I see her sweet smile, her gratitude and trust.
But I can't be like that. I know that. This indulgence here, jerking off alone, in my room letting those thoughts flow through me, this has to be it.
After my breathing returns to normal, I put on fresh shorts and pull the bedspread off so I can launder it. She’ll never know. I’ll go out for a run and purge the rest of my energy through sweat.
Like it never happened.
Chapter 10
Kita
Daniel’s house is so big that we barely have to run into each other. After a few days I sort of get the hang of it. I can hear him as he walks down the hall, though his footsteps are quite light for such a large person. When I hear them coming, I can just disappear from wherever I am.
I try to leave no trace, no interruption on his life. Keep everything clean, try to keep quiet. It's the least I can do, since he's obviously used to having things a certain way.
And it is his military training, I realize. Aside from the picture in the upstairs hallway, there are other pictures of him with military personnel around the house. In one he’s standing in front of the Kremlin, arms linked with another man. Their chins jut into the air and their eyes are serious even though their poses are kind of jokey.
In another one he's in full desert camouflage, sitting on top of a tank with his feet crossed, looking as casual as a person can look with sixty pounds of gear and a helmet on. He's grinning as though someone just said something really funny and he appears totally amused and engaged.
It looks like he’s been everywhere. But then I realize, there are no family photos at all. No parents, no wife, no kids. Just this man in various places around the world, in the company of other military-type people. He looks like he’s having fun, at least.
That is a little different than I usually see him. Around me he's extremely reserved, barely smiling, hardly even talking to me. In fact, in the last few weeks I think I have only seen him smile a couple of times. He has a wonderful, handsome smile.
Sometimes I wonder if my being here really irritates him. Maybe people my age are just naturally annoying. Or maybe I’m doing something wrong though I am trying so hard not to do anything wrong. I try to not even make a mess.
But though I'm trying to stay out of his way, I also sort of love being here. I like having the presence of a man around for some reason, and it probably has something to do with losing my own father so early. I have some hazy memories of my father from when I was three, maybe four. I remember a trip to Russia to visit relatives, sitting on his knee as he bounced me up and down, joking and laughing with all the other men. I remember that sound: the deep, rumbling laughter of men all at once. It is a very happy sound.
Something about Daniel sort of reminds me of that. Perhaps it is his size because he is so much bigger than me. Perhaps it’s just the broadness of his shoulders. He's very fit, very strong. He's basically a comic book drawing of a military superhero in anybody's book. And that just makes me feel… safe.
And it also makes me feel… other things.
I'm embarrassed to say it, but something seems to have been coming over me. Like some kind of hormone rush. Maybe delayed puberty? I know I never felt like this when I was sixteen or seventeen, which is when I think you're supposed to feel like all trembly and oversexed. But I was in two different foster homes, trying to figure out how I was going to keep my sanity when they took my mother away. I had more on my mind than just whatever was going on with my body.
So why now? Why here? I find myself throbbing, with chills racing up and down my arms all the time. I can't even watch people kiss on TV without getting this twinge that's almost painful in my belly and lower parts.
But I try to ignore it. I try so hard. While I'm trying to be quiet and stay out of Daniel’s way, the last thing I want to do is to be touching myself up here in the guest bedroom and risk him finding out. It seems so wrong.
But in the morning, as I am waking up, the wisps of a dream kind of dissolve and I realize I’ve got my fingers inside my panties. What was I just dreaming about? Being in someone's arms. Being rocked back and forth... letting that twinge build inside me until it becomes an ache, becomes a stronger ache.
As I become more awake, I realize I'm on my stomach, with
my hand trapped beneath me, thrusting against my fingers. Small whimpers slip from my lips and wake me up further, and I realize I am just about to come.
Shame floods me, but it is too late. My body takes over and I push away any feelings of doubt for just a few seconds longer than it takes to bring myself to climax. The last shreds of the dream shatter and sparkle as I bury my face in the pillow and tremble against my fingers, rocking slower and slower until it subsides.
I think I was quiet. I hope so. I get to the shower as quickly as I can and get cleaned up, trying not to linger too long or touch myself with any more impure thoughts.
I'm out of my room in a hurry, grabbing a yogurt cup and a banana before heading to the garage.
Daniel said I could borrow any of his cars, but I have to admit that I like this Jeep the best. I think it's the oldest one in his collection, definitely not the fanciest, but I really like it. It's too cold now to take the top off, but I could just imagine how much fun it would be in the spring when the leaves all come back and the sun warms you inside and out.
The Jeep roars to life, making a lot of noise in the echoey garage space. I roll it carefully to the overhead door and press the button, then enter traffic and close the door again.
It's a nice day, and I love this feeling of liberty. Just a simple thing like having a car whenever I need one is such a relief. It's a different way of life than I guess I've ever experienced. When I was little, with my mother, she took care of everything. When I was older and trying to stretch my wings a little bit, I was in the foster care system so I didn't really get to do that the way that a lot of other people do. Then I went straight to the sorority house, just walking distance to class and I didn't need a car.
But now, magically, I just have one. I can do whatever I need to do. Get to class, get to the store, whatever… In fact, I probably could get a gym membership or something like that. It would be really nice to have that back in my life. I've gotten pretty far out of shape in the last few months.
Yeah, that's what I'll do. On the way back to the house, I can swing by that gym over by the warehouse district. It's Friday, and the first of the month, so it might even have a special on…
Oh, shit.
I pull the Jeep over to the curb and look at my book on the seat next to me.
It's Friday, which means I have a lab, and I forgot my lab notes.
Where's my head at? Oh, yeah… got a little distracted by the fapping this morning, I guess. I must have been still a little flustered and I forgot to bring my lab notes with me.
Since the street is deserted, I just pull a U-turn and head back. I’ve got plenty of time before class so it shouldn't be a problem to dash upstairs and retrieve my lab notes from the small desk.
I park the Jeep in the driveway and key into the front door, bolting up the stairs two at a time, hoping that I don't wake Daniel by mistake.
When I get to the top of the stairs, I can hear some sound. Some churning sound like… I don’t know what. Talking? No. Whispering? Crying?
I tiptoe to the end of the hall, nearly to Daniel’s room. It’s him; I’m certain. But I’ve never heard his voice like this before. Is he all right?
All of a sudden, I hear him yell.
“Kita!”
I rush to the door, opening it and half expecting to find him in some emergency. But through the morning sunlight’s glare, I see him at the foot of his bed. He's gripping the bedpost, his other hand curled around his thick, rigid cock. He grunts like an animal as he jerks rhythmically.
I stand completely still, totally shocked, not sure what to do as he thrusts into his hand, two, three times and then comes everywhere, shooting out a stream of pearly liquid that splashes against the dark bedspread and instantly puddles in abstract, connected splotches.
I've never seen this before. I’ve never even seen a man fully naked before. I feel like I should run away, but I am transfixed. Every muscle in his body is straining, standing out in relief under his smooth, glossy, sweaty skin. The white, ropey liquid gleams in the muted sunlight. He strokes himself a couple more times, his back heaving as he pants.
He takes a small step forward, rearranging himself to stand up. I remember suddenly what I'm doing and back away, closing the door silently behind me. Thanking my lucky stars he didn’t hear me, I rush into my room to get the book and then back out into the hall and down the stairs. I’m practically sprinting to the front door but stepping as lightly as possible so that he won't know that I've seen him.
My heart is pounding when I get back into the Jeep, but as soon as I sit down I realize how my body reacted. My panties are wet, practically soaked through, and I have to hold my thighs tightly together to keep myself from trembling.
Did I just see what I thought I saw?
And did he really call my name?
Chapter 11
Daniel
As the days pass, I find myself swerving closer and closer to her, like a planet orbiting closer to a black hole. Every time I swing past her, I feel her gravity just a little bit more.
And she doesn't seem to mind, which has been making it worse. I know I'm just inching up to the line, just testing to see where that border is. How far I'll go, how far she'll go.
But her smile is addictive. My resistance is wearing down. I find myself doing more and more things, just to see if she will look at me, if she will smile at me.
She gets excited about little things, like a fully-stocked refrigerator. I bought flowers and left them on the counter a couple of times, simple arrangements from a florist that occupies one of my buildings on the far side of town. I told myself I was just helping the florist out, but the first time I heard Kita's gasp from the other room, I knew that wasn't true. It made my heart jump. It was for her and I had to admit it to myself.
And yet, I'm afraid this is temporary. We seem to be at peace, but I’m concerned that peace could be shattered at any time. More repercussions from the bake sale, is my chief concern.
I'm afraid that Lizzie still has a trick or two up her sleeve. It has been a couple of weeks and we haven't heard anything from her, which only makes me more suspicious. If she was bold enough to put that video on the Internet, she's bold enough to do a lot more than that. But her strategy is unclear. I'm not sure if she's doing it and I just don't know about yet, or if she's building up to something even worse.
But I'm going to find out.
I turn on the stove burner, warming up a cast-iron skillet. My morning run was satisfying and my body feels loose and solid at the same time, with that delicious fatigue in my muscles. But I do need to replenish my protein, and this ham from the local hipster farm outfit will do very nicely.
But in the back of my mind, as I lay the pink, sweet meat into the bottom of the hot pan and listen to it sizzle, I wonder how loud this needs to be before Kita notices. Or how aromatic. I’m sure she can smell it upstairs. The smoky char is building nicely.
I feel like I'm laying out treats for a feral animal, just trying to lure her into my presence. Sometimes it's food, sometimes it's the sound of the doorbell or the scraping of a chair. More and more, she's curious about me too. More and more, we have shy conversations where I try not to be too overbearing, and she tries not to be too fucking adorable.
The ham pops dramatically, spraying a little bit of grease into the air. I slide a plate onto the counter, then after a thought, a second plate. One for each of us. Why should I pretend this is just for me? Obviously, it’s for both of us.
With a fork, I pick up the two fat slices and put them on the plates, positioning them so the scorch marks are face up, glistening and delicious. Then I crack a couple of eggs into the bottom and listen to that sizzle.
There it is. That tiny sound.
I look up, careful not to smirk in triumph that I've drawn her to me yet again. She stands at the edge of the room, balancing on her toes, trying to see what's on the plates. Obviously, two plates is an invitation. Also, it’s a bit of a confession. But when s
he tiptoes to the chair across from me and pulls it out gently, I still feel like I have won some kind of prize.
“Good morning,” she says in a small, polite voice.
I mean to say good morning, but I just kind of grunt instead. That's good. At least I haven't turned into complete mush.
“That looks delicious,” she continues.
“Do you cook?” I ask her without looking up.
She taps her fingertips on the granite, drawing my attention to her pretty fingers.
“I do, but not very much,” she admits. “I'd like to learn. Do you want to teach me?”
That takes me aback, but I try not to react. Instead, I flip the eggs carefully, without breaking the yolks. After they firm up for a few seconds, I slide the eggs onto the plates.
Sometimes she does that, little actions and words that seem to be flirting with me. I'm never sure if she's really flirting with me, though. Maybe it's just her friendly nature. Maybe I'm just hearing what I want to hear.
“I need to… I'm going out of town,” I inform her as I give her a fork and pour some grapefruit juice into a glass.
“Out of town?” she repeats, scraping her knife against the plate.
“Yeah, just a short trip. It's been on the schedule for a long time and I can't get out of it,” I lie. I'm not sure why I am lying, but I'm just not ready to explain my mission yet.
She chews slowly, looking around the room as though this bothers her, but she doesn't want to say it.
“How long will you be gone?”
“Three days. Maybe a little more.”
She nods, tearing through the ham with relish. She's a healthy eater. I like that. Hunger is good.
“Will you be all right?” I ask her. “Alone, I mean?”
She chuckles, almost snorting. “Will I be all right?” she repeats. “I’m sure everything will be fine, Daniel. I think I can handle being on my own for a few days.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, trying to appear serious. I can sense that she's getting a little defensive and now that triggers my urge to tease her. But not too hard, not enough to make her mad. She gets down from the chair, taking her plate to the sink and washing it immediately like a good girl.