by Selena Kitt
“Fuck, oh fuck, yes, yes,” he moaned, his hand a blinding streak up and down, hips ricocheting on the bed, and she heard the bedsprings, just like she had with Erica. On the screen, the guy pumped into the blonde, roaring and lunging, and she heard him say it again like some hot, delicious déjà-vu, “I’m gonna come!”
“Fuck! Yes!” Mr. Nolan groaned, his hips really pressing up hard now, hand pumping. Leah’s sex was on fire, her fingers taking her with him, so close, her breath matching his. “I’m going to come all over you, Leah!”
It all happened at once—the man coming on the screen again, the dark-haired girl spreading her smooth, shaved lips so he could aim, shooting hot streams of white fluid over her mound. There was so much of it, like the tide, white sea foam dribbling over her fingers spreading her open, down the glistening folds of her flesh.
And Mr. Nolan was coming too, erupting over his hand, a geyser of hot, white stuff dribbling down his fist and onto his stomach. And Leah—Leah couldn’t take it, her swollen sex throbbing, aching for relief, but it was the final, sudden, shocking realization Mr. Nolan was fantasizing about her, that he had cried her name, that sent her flying.
She came too, watching him thrust and grunt and spill even more stuff as it slid down the length of his shaft, her muscles contracting so hard she wanted to scream, she wanted to call his name, but she had to bite her lip to keep from making any sound at all as she shuddered against the door frame.
Her ears were ringing and her breath coming so fast she could barely control it. Mr. Nolan rubbed his softening penis and, on screen, the blonde had wiggled out from under and was licking the sticky stuff off the dark-haired girl’s slit. Feeling guilty now, afraid of being caught, Leah shut the door as quietly as she could, making sure the latch didn’t make a tell-tale “click” as it closed.
She made sure to turn off the dark-room light before slipping out the door, hurrying to the bathroom, knowing her way well enough in the dark. She didn’t bother to lock it. She didn’t even turn on the light. She just sat on the toilet, breathless, and peed, releasing a torrent over her swollen, throbbing flesh—and that felt good too.
Closing her eyes, she willed herself to calm down, to breathe, just breathe. The day had been filled to the brim with far too many new experiences for her brain, let alone her still-quivering body, to process, from the secret darkroom to the nude photos to the flirting with her best friend’s father (had that really happened? ) to the look on his face watching her dance, to seeing him masturbating to a stag film.
And then calling her name.
Too much. She was overwhelmed. Her skin blazing, she pulled the nightgown back over her head, exposing her damp flesh to the air, and then put her head in her hands, shivering with feeling, trying to contain it all.
When Leah heard something outside the door, she grabbed some toilet paper to wipe herself, half standing, reaching around to flush, when the door opened and he came in. They froze in the moonlight streaming in from the skylight, both exposed. He was completely naked, and Leah might as well have been, with her nightgown pulled up to her neck.
“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, but Leah saw his gaze moving over her. “I didn’t know you were in here!”
“I should have locked it!” she apologized to the closing door. “I’m sorry, Mr. Nolan.”
He was quiet and she wondered if he knew, or suspected, she had been standing there watching him.
“It’s my fault,” he argued from outside the door. “I should have knocked.”
She flushed the toilet, quickly pulling her nightgown down and washing her hands fast at the sink before announcing, “I’m done!”
“Good night, Leah,” he said as she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway.
“Good night, Mr. Nolan.” She swallowed hard as she made her way back to Erica’s room.
Erica was still sleeping, her breathing deep and even. Leah pressed her hot, red face into the cool, forgiving material of her pillow. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered, and something insider her tightened another notch. She heard the toilet flush and the sound of the bathroom door closing again.
She felt so guilty, squeezing her thighs together and feeling the ache while she was thinking about her best friend’s dad. She couldn’t help it though, and she slid her hand down again, cupping her swollen mound in the darkness, remembering. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, and she wondered if he was thinking about her too.
Chapter Three
Leah took a shower before dawn, intent on going home as soon as possible, preferably before anyone woke up. She couldn’t face them, she decided, as she got dressed in the bathroom. She had to wear her uniform but her panties were still damp, so she just shoved them into her skirt pocket and went without. She could’ve borrowed some of Erica’s but she didn’t want to wake her.
She crept down the hall, going into the kitchen to get her book bag, and noticed the light over the sink was on. And there was her book bag, on the floor near the door, right where she’d left it—right next to Mr. Nolan’s briefcase.
“Where are you going, Leah?”
She jumped and shrieked, heart racing as she turned to find Mr. Nolan sitting at the kitchen table. He was in shadow, but his face appeared in the light as he leaned forward and smiled.
“I… couldn’t sleep.” She put her book bag down and felt the burn in her cheeks. He knew what she looked like naked—and she’d seen him masturbating.
She was mortified.
“Want some breakfast?” He waved her toward a chair. “We’ve got lots of cereal. Just don’t eat the last of the Sugar Smacks or Erica will have a conniption.”
Pulling a chair out, she sat, looking at him in the dimness. He was acting like nothing had happened, but she could feel something between them that hadn’t been there before.
She noticed he was dressed in a suit and tie. “Where are you going so early?”
“Work, unfortunately.” He took a bite of a pastry she hadn’t noticed until that moment. “I’d rather not, but duty calls.”
“That looks good.” Her stomach growled. She wasn’t used to being up so early on the weekends. “Work on a Saturday?”
“Meeting with my accountant,” he explained.
She made a face. “Well, isn’t that a bite?”
He chuckled, wiping lemon filling off the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “Yes. It is a bite. To say the least. Do you want some of this? Solie made it.”
She shrugged, her stomach rumbling again. “Maybe just a little? I don’t have cooties.”
“Here.” He held it out, watching as she tore off a piece with her teeth and licked lemon off her lips. She felt self-conscious around him, like she wanted to check her hair or smooth her skirt, and she had never felt that way around Mr. Nolan before. His smile was warm and he took another bite, saying through a mouthful, “I’m not worried about catching cooties.”
“So how’d your project go last night?” he asked. Leah reddened at the mention of the night before and was glad the kitchen wasn’t well-lit.
“Okay.” She shrugged and took another bite of the pastry when he offered it to her. She hugged her knee up to rest her chin on it without even thinking—before she remembered she wasn’t wearing panties. When she saw where his gaze fell, her face further filled with heat. But she didn’t move.
“You were up late.” His voice dropped lower, his gaze not wavering. Leah felt paralyzed, frozen in place, and the look on his face, caught somewhere between uneasiness and lust, made it even worse.
“So were you,” she replied softly and didn’t look away when his eyes lifted to meet her own. He had the same look on his face he had the night before, when she’d caught him watching her dancing.
He cleared his throat and reached over and touched the corner of her mouth with a napkin, where she was stretching to reach with her tongue, to get a bit of filling. “Sounded like a lot of giggling going on in there and not a lot of working.”
She smiled, slowly lowering her leg and smoothing her white and blue plaid skirt. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him still watching her. “Yeah, well… you know how we are.”
“Yes.” He nodded, popping the last of the pastry into his mouth. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
The kitchen was lighter now—the sun was coming up. Behind them, Erica stumbled in, her blonde hair a fuzzy cloud framing her face as she rubbed at her eyes and frowned.
“What are you two doing up at this ungodly hour?” she mumbled, groping along the counter toward the percolator on the stove, where Mr. Nolan had already made coffee. Leah’s mother would have killed her before letting her drink coffee, but Mr. Nolan wasn’t like that.
“I’ve got a meeting, Lovey.” He stood, taking his plate to the sink and kissing Erica’s cheek on the way by. “You two be good. Don’t mess up the house. And no boys.” He said this last in a mock-stern voice, only he wasn’t really kidding.
“We’ll be good,” Leah piped up, seeing Erica roll her eyes and stick her tongue out at his back. He smiled at Leah and his eyes smiled too. For a moment, just a brief second, they flickered down to the hem of her skirt and Leah’s whole body glowed.
“Bye, Mr. Nolan!” she called as he grabbed his briefcase.
Erica made a face as she heard the door close behind him. “Be good?”
“We’re always good.” Leah smiled, watching her pour Sugar Smacks.
Erica got the glass milk pitcher out of the refrigerator. Leah saw Mr. Nolan had already put today’s milk bottles in the fridge—they got double on Saturdays, just like at home, because Twin Pines didn’t have delivery on Sundays.
Erica snorted, pouring milk and putting it back. “Well then, let’s go get up to some good.”
Leah laughed. “More like ‘no good.’”
Her friend took a bite of cereal and crunched noisily. “Don’t you want to see what else is in my father’s darkroom?”
“What do you mean?” Leah stiffened, remembering catching Mr. Nolan watching a blue movie, but of course, she couldn’t tell Erica that.
“Ahhhh sugar and caffeine!” She pulled a coffee cup out of the cupboard. “Breakfast of champions—are you hungry?”
“No.” Leah wasn’t about to tell her about the pastry she’d shared with her friend’s father either. “And I’m pretty sure that’s the Wheaties slogan, not Sugar Smacks.”
“Come on.” Erica grabbed her cereal and coffee and headed out of the kitchen. “I want to show you something.”
“Another something?” Leah followed her down the hall, through the living room, and down the opposite hall to Erica’s room. The warehouse was a giant rectangle, with Mr. Nolan’s loft bedroom in the center—and the secret darkroom, she understood, taking up the space in the middle. She’d never thought about or realized it before.
Erica put her coffee on the night table and curled up on the bed, finishing her cereal as she directed Leah. “Open my underwear drawer.”
She opened the top drawer of the dresser, and it reminded her that she wasn’t wearing any panties. She grabbed a plain white pair. “Can I borrow these?”
“Sure.” Erica drank the thick, sugary milk out of her bowl. “Look at the back of the drawer for the ones with the cherries on them.”
Leah put the panties on and then straightened her skirt, looking at the back of her friend’s drawer for a pair of white underwear with little cherries on them, finding a flash of red under a bunch of her bras and slips.
Erica was a horrible slob, and although Solie, the Nolans’ cook and maid, picked up her floor every day, putting skirts and blouses tried-on but discarded on the bed, 45s strewn about the floor in a neat stack on the dresser, Erica still couldn’t manage to make the effort to take it the rest of the way. She often just pushed the clothes to the end of her bed to sleep, and the 45s usually ended up back on the floor. She had three copies of Elvis’s Heartbreak Hotel because the first two were so horribly scratched, they both skipped.
Leah grabbed for the red and white cloth, surprised by the sudden weight in her hand—this was definitely not underwear!
“What in the heck?” She felt something hard under the material.
“It’s my favorite new toy.” Erica grinned, drinking her coffee in huge gulps. “Ahhhh I love this stuff. I swear it’s addictive.”
“Toy?” Leah was afraid to look, sitting on the bed and handing the drawstring pouch over.
“Meet….” Erica opened the pouch and pulled out a strange thing, almost like a hairbrush with no bristles. It had a long cord. “Handy Hannah!”
“What—?” Leah blinked in disbelief as Erica dug something that looked like a suction cup out of the bag, attaching it to the device, where the bristles would have been, had it actually been a hairbrush.
“Feel.” She pressed it to the inside of Leah’s elbow. It was initially cold, but very soft. “Now… imagine this...” Her eyes met Leah’s as she leaned over to plug it in, bringing the whole thing to life. It began to vibrate. “Down there...”
Leah pulled her arm away like she’d been burned, still staring at it. “What…?” She gulped. It was hard to form words. “What does it feel like?”
“Want to go find out?” She grinned, unplugging it and hopping from the bed. “Come on, let’s go to the darkroom.”
They went down the hall, back through the living room, and it reminded Leah of the night before as Erica fished out the key, pulled the tapestry aside, unlocked the padlock and slid the bolt before motioning her inside. The red light cast an eerie glow and Leah’s skin itched with the memory of the photos hanging on the line, hearing the sound of the movie on the other side of the wall, finding Mr. Nolan touching himself. These were secrets she was sure she would keep from her best friend forever.
“Come on, I have something else to show you.”
Leah felt frozen in place as Erica went straight over to the other door in the wall, finding the hidden latch immediately—Leah hadn’t even known there was a latch, as the door had been slightly open already the night before. The walls were dark panel, and the door would have been impossible to see under the red light in the darkroom.
“Where are you going?” Leah choked as Erica swung the secret door wider.
“You thought these were wild?” Erica snorted, waving at the books full of photographs. “Just wait.”
But Leah already knew what was in the room.
She stood in the doorway, her body thrumming with the memory, staring at the place where she’d watched Mr. Nolan touch himself as Erica hung reels and threaded film, the light on the projector casting a flickering glow. Otherwise the room was dark, except for the initial lamp Erica had turned on when they entered, which gave just minimal light. The room had no windows.
“Erica...” She meant to protest, to turn around and leave, like she had committed to doing that very morning. She meant to be a good girl. A good Catholic girl. In fact, it had been the thought of having to recount all of what had happened in the last twenty-four hours at confession that had pushed her out of bed in the first place, determined to go home and take a long, hot, scouring shower.
“This is my favorite one,” Erica informed her as the movie began. Leah watched the screen where a girl reclined on a bed reading a magazine and a young man came into her bedroom and started talking to her. They were wearing masks, just like in the movie the night before, only these were more like the Lone Ranger than a masquerade ball. She edged toward the bed where Erica, still in her nightgown, was perched. Mr. Nolan had been right there the night before where his daughter was sitting. Leah could hardly wrap her head around it.
“What is this?” Leah’s voice came out nearly a whisper. She felt shy and embarrassed, watching the couple kiss on screen. They were starting to take off each other’s clothes. It was one thing to look at pictures together. They didn’t move. This was different.
“What’s it look like?” Erica grinned, patting the bed beside her. “Take a loa
d off.”
Leah stared at the screen, where the girl was already naked and on her knees in front of the boy. It all happened so fast! She was starting to feel that familiar quake, the undeniable longing. Erica’s eyes were bright as she looked up at her friend, licking her lips in anticipation like she always did whenever she was about to attempt to lead Leah down the path of temptation.
Why, oh why, did she always follow?
“Come on, Leah.” Erica patted the bed again, scootching over to make more room. “I want to show you something else.”
“Something else?” Leah squeaked, but she found herself sliding into the bed next to her friend in spite of her having-slept-on-it misgivings. The images on the screen were too enticing. She couldn’t stop watching. The girl was tiny and dark-haired, like Leah, slim hips and long legs. The girl had clearly been far more blessed in the bosom department, although their nipples were the same light brown. The camera panned down, giving them a view of her whole body, and she noticed her pubic hair had been shaved off.