Red Light

by J. D. Glass

  “Oh? What does she say?”

  I grinned as I carefully tucked it back into my pocket. “Nina said to go for it.”

  My mother accepted that statement with another small nod. That Nina approved…it carried weight with her. It always had. For once, though, Nina’s importance didn’t bother me.

  “I just wish…you would take a little more time,” she said, as she brushed her fingers through my hair once more.

  I nodded. I understood what she meant, but as I thought of how to answer her, all I could see in my mind’s eye were the dead, killed by accident, the innocent maimed by circumstance, and Lukaski, looking at a year of rehab and needing to re-create his life at the ripe old age of twenty-seven, and lucky, lucky, to be able to do it.

  “Mom?” I said softly, “time’s the one thing no one has. I’m not wasting any more of it.”

  It took four weeks, that was all, to set a date and get it all arranged—Jean and I were on the same page: love may be immortal and the spirit divine, but the body is neither. Why wait? We just wanted to be together.

  After Samantha came back from her business trip, Jean and I went to city hall and waited in a room that had been around since President Madison for a bored clerk to charge us a dollar more than a marriage license cost so we could receive approximately one thousand nine hundred some-odd fewer rights than one of those would grant. But the four rights we did get, two of which were, as my mother had reminded me, only good in a city jail or a city-run hospital, enabled us to do things I’d never really thought about before, like have insurance.

  We had additional benefits, though: working as city employees meant we could do quite a few things, things my cousin and Samantha couldn’t without jumping through a lot of hoops, then hoping someone might overlook something or make an exception. It pissed me off, but I had to let it go—who could live with that kind of anger all the time?

  Because I still gave my mom about forty percent of my paycheck, Jean had no issues with us staying on Staten Island as opposed to living in Brooklyn, and I really did want to be around Nina and Samantha, especially with everything going on.

  Besides, Nina was thrilled about the dog, Dusty, who instantly parked at her feet and followed her everywhere. I also strongly suspected that Samantha liked the idea of having a literal watchdog around her wife.

  In no time at all, I was in an anteroom of the Unitarian church, with Mr. Scanlon waving Mrs. Scanlon inside so he could speak with me.

  “Scotty, I know…” He stared down at his shoes a moment, the shiny dress black ones with the fringe over them that matched his tartan. “I know your father’s not here, and I’m not asking you to—” He placed a warm hand on my shoulder, and took a deep breath. “Tori, I’d be honored if the young woman who loves my daughter so well would let me be her da too.”

  I stared at him, into the warm eyes his daughter had inherited, this man with his barrel chest from breathing in too much smoke from all the fires he’d run into over the years, his voice low and slightly gravelly for the same reason, this man who loved his family so much that he had room in his heart to add to their number.

  “I think…I think the honor’s mine,” I told him as he pulled me into a bear hug. I returned his hold until we both got embarrassed.

  “Good, then,” he said as we separated. He clapped me on the shoulder. “Well, young Scotty, I’ll see you inside.” He smiled, then walked through the door.

  My throat was so tight and my lips so dry I couldn’t imagine breathing, never mind speaking the words I knew I had to as we walked up to the minister and then…seconds later we stood before him, exchanging promises that duplicated word for word what her parents had promised each other and rings that went with them.

  “With these hands, I give you my heart and I crown it with my love.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could honestly tell if our parents got along or not, but everyone seemed happy enough at the reception/party Nina and Samantha both insisted be held at Nox, although both Jean and I in return insisted on paying for as much of it as I could talk them into allowing. My cousins had already given me enough.

  At some point during the night, Bennie bumped my shoulder.

  “Hey, you guys registered at Toys in Babeland or something?”

  I eyed her smirk and decided to ignore the comment.

  It was funny in a way, because the topic of adult recreational toys had come up just recently.

  “You know, baby,” I had said several nights before, between kisses as Jean and I fooled around on her sofa instead of packing (she had a comic book collection to rival Nina’s), “all those jokes about showing me your pee-pee…” I bit down on her nipple through her shirt as I tugged it out of her pants.

  “Uh…yeah?” Jean opened my zipper and twisted so that I was on my side when she slid her hand down and parted me.

  Her lips were fierce on mine and I pulled her closer, intent on reaching the same goal. She was wet and hard…which always stoked me higher.

  “Well,” I murmured into her ear, “we’re getting married…and I haven’t seen it yet.”

  “What’s the matter, baby?” she said in a syrupy low voice, her lips against my throat, “are you bored already?” She began to jerk me off, deliciously slow and hard, ensuring that I’d be so very ready for her to fill me.

  “Nuh…no,” I breathed against the onslaught, “I love…love the way…you touch me.” That was very true. Nothing had ever felt better than her touch or her riding me. I loved the way we felt together: wherever, however. “It’s just…I like to…play,” I told her as I stroked along her slick entrance.

  “Toys, huh? Okay, baby,” she agreed, the last word a sigh from the pressure of my thumb along her shaft, “bring on the Barbies.”

  We negotiated careful territory as we loved each other, discussed, discovered, and stretched new boundaries in an exchange that was part confession and part demonstration. Jean had never been penetrated in that way, which surprised me, while I’d never let anyone else “drive,” as Jean had put it. By the time we had both come, fueled by word and touch, we knew what we were going to do.

  I loved that Jean was so playful about the whole thing, even if she had done her best to make me blush on that particular shopping expedition.

  “Well,” Bennie said, as she gave my back a solid thump that took me away from my reverie, “if you need advice, demonstrations, you know you can always count on me.”

  “Ya know what, Benadette?” I stressed her given name to tease her and thumped her in return. “I think I’ve had all the help from you I need.”

  I knew I was right when Jean walked up half a second later and Bennie, the room, the whole world disappeared in her lips.

  The service recognized the legality of our new relationship, and Jean and I took the two weeks off from work that was granted to any newly married member of service.

  “What a waste of a vacation!” Pat had jokingly complained at the table when Jean’s parents had suggested we visit the Florida Keys, the night we took them out for dinner to officially inform them of our plans. “You know they’re never going to even see daylight, they’ll be so busy—”

  It was the dark look that Mrs. Scanlon threw his way that made Pat stop and mumble apologetically into his dinner.

  “We’ll see the sun, Pat, don’t worry,” Jean assured him. She took my hand and smiled at him sweetly. “We do have to get to and from the plane.”

  *

  We spent ten days in a beautiful resort called Ocean Key, not caring about the weather one bit.

  While Jean took a shower after I did to relax from the long day, long night, and our flight, I sat in a chair by a floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the water or, at least, promised to during the day, and flipped through the assorted brochures of things to do: shopping, walking, scuba, sailing, a restaurant every other building, swimming—

  “Baby?” she called lightly.

  I looked up and dropped whatever dumb thing I’d been read
ing. Her hair, still wet from the shower, was brushed sleekly back, curled around her neck and over a shoulder, while the shirt she’d put on over a pair of faded jeans that hugged the length of her legs hung open to her navel, a white chambray veil over her perfect curves. She leaned casually against the door frame.

  Her body was against mine before I’d even become aware I’d gone to her.

  “Are you hungry?” she murmured against my lips as I caught my breath and her hands wreaked havoc along my waist and hips.

  “Room service,” I answered as I pulled her closer to me and pressed her up the against doorjamb, “later.”

  “Tired?” she asked before scraping her teeth against my ear. She unzipped my pants and eased them down my hips, and I let them fall a little farther before I stepped out of them.

  “Not at all.” My hands were already slipping up the silk of her skin, reaching for the places I wanted to touch and…

  “Good,” she whispered back as a practiced hand unsnapped my bra and stripped my shirt off me. Jean walked me backward toward the bed. “It’s our first official night as a family…I thought we’d do something…a little different.”

  I got the first button of her jeans open. “We can do anything you want,” I told her as I planted a kiss on the bare skin I’d revealed and released the rest of the brass buttons. I knew what she meant, though, even before she leaned over me to reach for her flight case. I didn’t mind at all, because it meant I had the length of her body arched above me, and I slid the denim that still covered too much of her lower. She kicked the rest off as she leaned on an elbow, black satin bag in hand.

  I took it from her hand and set it down to the side, then cradled her face. “Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked her seriously. “We don’t have to…I love the way we are.”

  I meant every word as her beautiful luminous eyes searched mine. I was very, very satisfied, and more than, with the way we made love, and if this was something she wasn’t sure of or comfortable with, we didn’t need to—

  Jean smiled at me, a smile I’d never seen before, a gentle quirk of her sensual lips, then kissed me in answer. “Baby,” she said into my ear, a sultry purr that set my blood on track, “don’t you dream about fucking me?”

  She eased her leg between mine and pressed against me; her strong fingers scratched along my ribs. “I do,” she whispered and laid hot kisses against my jaw. “I dream about it…you fucking me…about fucking my wife.”

  I savored her mouth, the taste and the skill, the lush fullness of our kiss as we adjusted on the luxurious expanse of the bed.

  We had nowhere to be later, or the next day, or for a few days after that, and I wanted to enjoy every single moment as I reached for the hardness that lay under the silk at my side and held it in my hand to warm.

  “Angel baby,” I murmured between sensual attacks, “are you sure?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.” Gently encircling my wrist, she guided me to her. “I want to feel it when I fuck you.”

  Thus encouraged and so aroused I didn’t know how to think anymore, I edged the head of the toy against her, parting her, letting it slide along her cleft as if it were my tongue, for the first time in my life envious for a moment that it wasn’t, that it wasn’t “me,” that I wasn’t tasting her. I couldn’t resist sucking her tit into my mouth as I played her.

  “You’re so very, very good with that,” she sighed as she shifted in response to my stroke.

  “You’ll like it even more,” I promised and kissed her deeply as I pressed the very tip against her waiting entrance.

  She gasped, and her breath caught again as I gently worked the head past that initial tightened ring.

  “You okay?” I asked, pausing slightly, ready to stop if she wanted.

  “God…yes…” she got out between her teeth, and she lifted her hips as it entered her, taking it deeper. She pushed on my hand.

  “Easy, baby…I’ve got you,” I told her, still moving slowly, letting her get used to the feel of it inside her. I very, very gently began to jerk her off.

  Her fingers wrapped around mine, around the dick that was partially in her, waiting for me as I straddled her thighs and leaned over to suck on her tongue.

  This had been our discussion, and our decision. It wasn’t about position, or power. It was about pleasure, expression, love. It was something that had new elements for both of us, something we could explore together.

  Jean’s eyes were hazy and wide, smoldering copper and honey, as they gazed at me.

  “Tori,” she groaned as she jerked her dick off against my cunt, playing me from hole to head so damned good, and I was ready, so fucking ready. “I want…I need to—”

  It wasn’t my words that stopped hers. I raised my body and held myself open before I lowered myself again so she could watch the head of her dick slide into me.

  A hushed “oh…” escaped me and I eased up again, shocked at the difference in sensation the position made.

  “God, baby, you’re dripping on my dick,” Jean said in a hush, and she reached for my hips.

  “Watch, baby,” I told her as I put my hand over hers, “just watch.”

  “Oh…that’s it…yeah,” she encouraged in a throaty growl, “I want to jerk it off in your cunt, baby.” She licked her lips, then swallowed, hunger on her face, in her eyes as they focused on my pussy easing over her cock. “Let me in you.”

  I settled down against her, unable to help closing my eyes at the feel of her dick fully nestled within me.

  “Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed, a sharp burst of breath as the full weight and depth of the cock we shared was now completely inside her.

  “That’s just so…oh, Tori, your face…you are so fucking beautiful with my dick inside you.”

  The hand that held my hips now gripped firmly as she rocked me slowly against her, and I couldn’t speak against the feel of her body, those perfect tits under mine, her dick filling me beautifully while I rode her in easy rhythm.

  “I love you, I fucking love you,” she mouthed against my throat when our rhythm changed from ease to urgency and the different sensation, the sensation of being fucked by her dick, first diffused through my body, then coalesced into an intense thrum that filled me. I could only wrap my arms, curve my legs around her, hold her to me as close as I could because the thrum had become a throb, became a wordless, worldless movement as the shiver of Jean’s body beneath and next to me was the tremble I felt within me, and I knew she was going to come with her cock buried deep inside me and I knew it, could feel it and—

  “Come, please…” I urged, a desperate gulp, a whisper over her head, uttered against the rising fire and blood that threatened to tear me away from myself, to erase me, remake me, an image I didn’t know if I’d recognize.

  Despite that, I couldn’t keep the wonder and the awe I felt out of my voice, because I got it, I understood the fascination with having sex, with making love, in exactly this way.

  “Oh, soon…” she groaned, and with a strength that shouldn’t have surprised me, she caught me around the waist and with a quick twist of her back and hips gently deposited me on my back, her dick lodged fully and firmly within me.

  Jean always gave herself to me completely when we made love, the surrender of her self, total, complete, and I knew it in every possible way, how much she loved me, how much she wanted me. And today? Today, she had declared it not just to me, but in front of family, friends, and God. Jean had placed her life, her faith, her heart in my hands.

  I hadn’t realized until that moment that I’d held back anything. I gave up all pretense that this was anything other than what it was, a claiming—in love, in flesh, in mind. Jean was telling me, with her body that shuddered above me, with her dick that trembled with even greater urgency in me, that I was hers—and hers alone.

  I had faith in her, faith in love. I had faith in us—I’d let her take me anywhere she wanted, and as she rocked in me, loving me, fucking me with pure grace—I hadn’t
known there were deeper levels of surrender.

  “Let me make this good for you,” she begged, her eyes hot on mine as she changed her rhythm and her method, “let me make you come.” Her cock slid even farther in me with practiced, skillful ease that played its length against my clit, and despite the incredible intensity of sensation I smiled, because I knew that trick too, the sliding rock that was a glide as opposed to a straight thrust—I planned on doing it to her the first chance I got—oh, she was good, so fucking good. God, she worked my pussy beautifully and when I moved with her she knew it, too; the satisfied smile she returned before her tongue fucked my mouth the way her dick moved me said so.

  “Angel…you’re incredible,” I told her with what little breath I had left, ragged as her cock filled me over and over. “I love you,” I whispered against her neck before I pressed my face against it, and I could only wrap myself around her again.

  I gave her everything, the only thing that was left, the words she needed to hear, torn from a place hidden, even from myself.

  “Yours, angel. Always.”

  She embraced me, pulled me to her chest, and tucked her legs against me. “God, how I love you…” she said, the words a gentle gasp as her cheek smoothed against my neck.

  We clutched at each other against the slip of sweat-slick skin, in the desperate drive of her dick in me, in us, pushing, climbing, with the shudder that became the fuckin’ gorgeous hard thrust, and I dug my fingers down along her back, felt the straining muscles, the flex of her perfect ass that molded under my hands. I reached back just a bit farther and touched against hot slickness, the wet cock that filled us both as it slid under my fingertips and I pressed it into her, played a steady tattoo against it, begging her to fuck me.

  “Harder…oh, please, baby…fuck me, fuck me deep…hard.”

  “Yes, baby,” she murmured into my ear as she did exactly that, “I’m gonna fuck you…fuck you good and hard.”

  The last of the restraints either one of us held was gone. “Gonna come, baby, gonna come in your beautiful cunt…gonna come all over you.” Her voice strained on the last few words and I urged her on.