by Gem Sivad
“She made us fit time in for real school, though,” I said and laughed. Maxine was big on education. One of her baby doll employees was and still is a teacher by day. Claudia signed me up to be home schooled, got me the course work, and made sure I turned it in on time. Without her, I wouldn’t have even known how to apply for the scholarships that got me into college.”
Marty said, “I left home at fourteen as well.”
His grimace let me know there was more to the story. “Share,” I ordered him.
“Hopefully, our kid will get your brains. Unlike you, I was never good at school. I was too big for the desks and scared the teachers. I missed too many days in the sixth grade and the teacher said she was holding me back and I wouldn’t be moving to the seventh the next year. They’d already done this to me twice, so…”
“You quit?”
“Yep. I was fourteen. When I told my grandmother, she threw me out of the house. Good thing I was big. I never had trouble getting a job.”
We contemplated each other across the table. Then I reached for the pie and broke the mood.
“You’re not eating both pieces, are you?” he growled.
I took pity on him and slid the last slice onto his plate. “Ice cream?” I asked as I topped mine with a scoop of vanilla.
“Oh yeah.” It was good. Kind of fun sharing a late-night meal in the kitchen with him.
I wasn’t sure what was happening next—upstairs together or upstairs separately—and I didn’t want to ask so I ran a sink full of dish water and began meal clean-up. He carried his plate to the counter and picked up the dishtowel I’d laid there.
“When did Roger begin performing?”
I thought about Roger’s Regina. “He was bussing tables at a gay bar when the main act didn’t show. He came home that night, still dressed like a woman and I didn’t recognize him.”
Roger had been eighteen and we were all struggling to pay the rent. He’d developed the character he’d devised that night, and Regina’s performances put him through college.
“He’s pretty amazing,” Marty agreed. “Think he likes Garret?”
I laughed. “Well, baby doc does a mean tango. I’d say he’s already made a positive impression.”
“Just so you understand,” he said gruffly, only half teasing. “I don’t want your friend to go breaking my boy’s heart.”
“Not my department.” I shook my head, rinsed the last plate, and handed it to him. “They are both educated, intelligent, adults. I’m not about to get mixed up in their relationship.”
“How about ours?”
The question caught me off guard, though it shouldn’t have.
“I think I’m pretty well mixed up in, and about, our relationship,” I answered. “It’s not like either of us actually chose to have one.”
“Not true,” he answered me quickly. “I wanted to know you better from the start.” He grinned. “I think you wanted to know me better, too. Why else make a trip to my office to return your taxi loan, when you could have simply mailed it to me?”
I’d been too invested in having the last word to consider mailing him his hundred.
Marty
Thanks to Elaine, I’d known exactly where to find Holly. I’d not been concerned that she might party too hard and hurt the baby. My angst was more focused on her meeting some new guy who’d sweep her off her feet. As soon as I’d arrived, seated her on my lap, and wrapped my arms around her waist, I’d calmed down. When I’d seen who’d she’d gone clubbing with—Maxine, Elaine, Megan, Garret, Harley-Jane—I felt like a complete dunderhead for worrying and settled down to have fun.
I’d never been jealous or possessive with Kit. Which is why my current emotional state had me flummoxed. I could live with not being Holly’s lover. But, I didn’t like the idea of her finding a different bed partner she preferred over me. Maybe it was my ego talking, possibly it was something else.
I yawned uncontrollably, exhausted. I’d been hungry, but the late meal and her relaxing company, left me swaying on my feet. “Sorry, Holly. I’m going to have to say goodnight. I’m beat.”
“Me too,” she agreed. “I’ll walk up with you.”
Holly
It was a wide staircase and we mounted the steps together. When we reached the top, without hesitation, Marty turned toward the door of the room I’d rented him.
Darn it. My hormones were screaming to drag him into my big bed. I craved him as much as I’d craved that pecan pie earlier. I was tired of denying it, too.
I caught his hand and stopped him. When he gazed at me, his thoughts hidden behind his exhaustion, I stood on my tiptoes and pulled his face close enough to brush my lips across his.
It was as if I’d thrown gasoline on hot coals. He enveloped me in a hug, and I leaned in, molding myself to every part of him. His tongue penetrated my mouth, his hands roamed then settled on stroking up and down my back, rousing my lust to a fevered pitch. I groaned, rubbing my suddenly too heavy breasts, against his chest.
My nails dug into his shoulder as he cupped my ass, lifting me higher against his erection. He was cocked and ready as was I as we ground against each other.
“Time for bed,” I gasped and grabbed his hand, pulling him into my room.
Without releasing each other, we somehow managed to get our clothes off, shirts and socks flying into the air until we were both naked. I groaned as warm lips found my nipple, and moaned as he first suckled, then rolled it against the roof of his mouth.
“I want you in me now,” I ordered, trying to pull him down on the bed.
An evil chuckle met my demand. “But first…” He claimed my mouth again, as his fingers parted the lips of my sex and rubbed the sensitive bundle of nerves there.
His other hand rested at the small of my back, supporting my backward arch as I parted my thighs to give him better access. When one of his thick fingers slid in and out of me, he crooned, “Come for me baby doll.”
With a keening cry, I obeyed, losing any semblance of control in this mating dance. He kept working me as I plummeted to earth from the orgasm, wringing every ounce of pleasure from me before lowering me to the bed.
When I lay on the sheets like a limp noodle, he moved between my legs and began to push inside. Even with my slick readiness, I couldn’t help squirming in discomfort as his thick shaft made a place for himself.
Before I caught my breath, he drew my legs up to either side of him and slowly began to withdraw until only the tip of him rested inside me. And then of course, with a powerful thrust, he seated himself again. Unbelievably, I began the climb toward another orgasm.
“Hurry,” I whimpered, trying to readjust the pace to fit my needs.
“I’m boss, remember,” he growled, “I set the rhythm.”
Oh yeah? Planting one foot firmly on the sheets, I twisted my hips and heaved, rolling him until I ended up on top seating him deep inside of me. “Yes,” I muttered triumphantly as I lifted, twisting and grinding down on his cock, loving the delicious pleasure that tingled in every nerve ending.
I teetered on the precipice, ready to leap into heaven again, when he flipped me onto my back, caught my hands above my head, and began thrusting faster and faster. He reached between us and rubbed that lovely spot of nerves he’d found before.
My orgasm exploded through me, tingling every nerve and tightening my channel where it gripped him, convulsively milking him with rhythmic pulses. His cock swelled inside me, announcing his own climax as I neared completion. I wrapped my arms around his back and held on. He held my gaze, thrusting harder and moving faster as our bodies slapped together, dancing in counterpoints to the same song.
Dear God, I could love this man… I teetered on the edge, gasping for breath as he thrust harder and moved faster until I could wait no longer. My nails bit deep into his shoulders, and my gasp became a scream. As he found release, we shuddered to the finish-line together.
Marty collapsed and we lay sprawled together who knows how lon
g. Eventually he shifted to his side, spooning around me. My body ached to surrender to sleep, but I fought it to prolong this moment. Maybe he felt the same way, because he kissed my neck and then nibbled affectionately at my ear.
It all felt so good, so right. I relaxed deeper and deeper into the security of his arms and have no idea what prompted the words that escaped my lips.
“What did you call your wife?” Of course, I’d ruined the moment.
He stopped chewing on my ear and barked, “Kit, why?”
“I mean when you were being affectionate, you know, playful.”
“Kitten. Again, why?”
“You’ve called me Little Bit, Baby Doll, Sweet Cheeks…” I paused in my recitation trying to remember all the names.
“Don’t forget Wild Child,” Marty supplied another of his nicknames. His arms tightened around me again, and I could feel the laughter rumbling in his chest.
“In my defense, I didn’t know your real name for a long time, and it’s taken me until tonight to actually discover your full name. It’s Holly Anna Smith Carpenter, right?”
I nodded yes and then confessed tiredly, “I keep forgetting that I was Marilyn when we met, because frankly, it feels like I’ve known you forever.”
“Forever’s good,” he murmured, kissing my neck again. That’s all I remember until I woke the next morning with leg thrown over his hip and my head on Marty’s chest, as he thumbed my nipple, teasing me awake.
“I have to shower,” I warned him. And other things. Morning mouth is not something I wanted to share. I scrambled from the bed and into the bathroom. No sense in false modesty, he’d seen all of me and I didn’t know where my clothes were anyway.
I shut the door and took care of business, then stepped into the shower. I heard the outer door open and close, and my hot shower blasted ice cold for a moment when Marty flushed the commode.
“Okay if I use your tooth brush?” he asked with garbled words, demonstrating he’d already begun. Objecting would have been too late and ridiculous as well, given our recent mouth exchanges.
“Use cold water,” I yelled. My water heater left a lot to be desired and was on a list of needed replacements. But, what’s a little cold water between friends.
The temperature in the shower warmed up nicely, when he joined me, demonstrating his sexual prowess standing upright with us both slippery with soap.
Chapter Seventeen
Marty
Man, I felt fine. Reborn. Jesus, who knew a night of sex could make sleep so deep and renewing. I woke up more than hard and horny. Someplace during the night, a page in my story had turned from bleak to bliss and I wanted more.
I couldn’t quite get a fix on where Holly stood in this whole thing, but I wanted to move into her life as well as her house. In bed, there was no denying we fit. Whether she’d think the same thing over the breakfast table was another matter.
She dressed and escaped the bedroom while I fetched my shaving kit, returning from my rented room to the intimacy of her en suite. I wanted her to invite me to share this room with her, not glide back and forth from her bed to my bed after we’d fucked.
“Careful, boyo,” I muttered to my face in the mirror. “You’re getting in deep.”
The aroma of bacon frying ended my mirror musing and I hustled downstairs and into the kitchen. She’d switched on some music and it played a soft background as she danced in front of the stove, turning the bacon in one skillet, then flipping a pancake in the other.
“Looks like serious cooking going on in here. Need any help?” I asked ambling up to pat her ass and peer over her shoulder.
She turned her head and said, “Nope, I’ve got this.”
I caught her lips in a kiss, then disengaged and said, “Call me when it’s ready,” and headed out the backdoor. I wanted to sit in the three-seater and spend a mellow morning contemplating everything good that was happening.
My plans changed rapidly. The swing had been trashed, the wooden slats broken as if someone had taken an axe to it. It sagged in the middle, held together by one skeletal back section.
I swept my gaze over the terrain, looking for the asshole responsible. Long gone. My gaze fell on Holly’s flowers once growing at the other end of the yard. Red spray-painted letters spelled foul words and stained the fence that separated her yard from the neighbor’s.
“What’s wrong,” she called from the back step.
“Don’t come out here, yet, sweet cheeks. Let me do a little clean…” Too late. She jogged across the yard to stand beside me. I don’t think she’d even noticed the swing.
“My flowers,” she shrieked, falling on her knees in front of the dying plants. They’d been pulled from the ground, shredded, then stomped to bits under someone’s foot.
She sat on her heels, gazing at the crude words on the fence, before her glance moved to the swing.
“Who would do such a thing?” she asked, staring up at me in shock.
“When was the last time you looked out here and knew the backyard was normal?” I asked.
She frowned then answered. “It was fine yesterday when I got ready to go out with the girls. Garret sat out here in the swing while Megan and I piddled inside waiting for Harley-Jane.”
I pulled out my phone and called Garret. It took him a while to answer and when he did, he didn’t sound happy to hear from me. Nor did he sound alone.
“Quick question,” I said, before he could start bitching. “When you were in Holly’s backyard yesterday, did you see anything wrong?”
“No. What kind of wrong?”
“Swing was all in one piece? Flowers were still in the ground? No paint splashed in ugly words all over her fence?”
“Shit no,” he answered, coming fully alert. “Someone vandalized her backyard?”
“Yep. Just trying to figure out when.”
Holly must have been doing some thinking while she eavesdropped on my conversation with Garret. When I hung up, she was ready to talk.
“The window over the sink gives me a view of the whole yard. The swing was all in one piece when we were doing the dishes last night, and there were no disgusting words on my fence.”
I was pleased to see Holly was more angry than shocked.
“Should I report it to the police?” she wondered out loud.
“Probably should,” I agreed. “I’ll walk over to the neighbor that shares that fence line and see if he heard or saw anything last night.”
Holly gave me an odd look and shook her head. “Unless it sold yesterday, that house over there is empty.”
I thought about the old geezer leaning over the fence, asking questions. I hadn’t really paid attention to his appearance. He’d dressed like an old man, and I remember a floppy hat that shaded his features so much, I couldn’t really picture anything but the hat itself.
I called the local PPD and reported the vandalism. Two officers in a cruiser arrived shortly and took pictures. I’d already taken my own for insurance purposes.
Holly
I was stunned more than anything else. I guess if I’d been alone, I might have reacted differently, as in I might have been scared spitless. But shortly after Marty’s call to Garret and then the Pittsburgh Police Dept., members of the Smoke, Inc. crew began to arrive. The police came and left. They said I could come to the station to sign the report when they got it ready. That worked for me.
Before I’d really figured out what to do with the mess, the crew were already rebuilding the place. Roger and Garret showed up and immediately made the swing their personal project. I was distracted from my drama by the interesting dynamics between the two. I tried to catch Roger’s eye several times, so I could get the inside scoop on his Garret adventure. But he laughed at me and ignored my non-subtle hints.
Jack fussed over the existing flower bed, took measurements, then came to stand beside me.
“Those were some pretty flowers growing there. Most of them will come back. But I’m thinking I could add a fo
untain inside the bed itself, give you a light feature and the sound of running water.” He scratched his jaw and studied the broken flower bed before drawling, “While I’m doing it, I might as well add some low lighting back there along the fence.”
Marty, who’d taken a wire brush to said fence and had most of the red filth scrubbed off as soon as the police left, was currently repainting it. Megan arrived with Teague followed by Harley-Jane and Cowboy. When Elaine carried boxes of donuts to the backyard my stomach growled, and I remembered the pancake breakfast I’d abandoned in progress.
Teague and Cowboy huddled with Marty a moment then left my yard to walk to the house next door.
I retreated to the porch steps where I sat watching.
“Hate what happened to your place, but hey,” Harley-Jane observed, “it’s amazing what a crew can do in one day.”
“You’ve got that right.” I felt as if I’d tuned into a TV segment of Fixer-Upper or This-Old-House.
Part of me wanted to retreat to my closet where I could think about what had happened. But a bigger part of me wanted to participate in the backyard party that evolved. Church arrived, boxes of food in hand and set up Marty’s new grill.
Marty finished the fence and brought the H/K outside to add music to the event.
“It seems more like fun than a disaster,” I told him when he slung his arm around my shoulders and ask me how I felt.
“That’s exactly what we want it to be,” he said. “And if the fucker who did this is watching, we’re thumbing our noses at him while we find out his name.”
“Are we doing that?” I asked, impressed.
“Already on it babe. Nobody is doing this to your backyard and getting away with it.”
Looking at the smoldering anger beneath his pleasant expression, I believed him. I wasn’t certain if he’d factored in the police inquiry, but from the way the two officers had listened to Marty, I felt comfortable that he’d coordinated the search on all fronts.
It didn’t escape me, that instead of the basket case hiding in my closet for unknown days, I was sitting on the back step, basking in the sun, and admiring my new swing. Marty was good for me.