by Selena Kitt
“Leah...” He whispered her name, using his thumb to rub over her lips. “I took her to bed tonight, yes, I did. I fucked her senseless, until I couldn’t see straight—” His words shot arrows into Leah’s heart and she felt the sting of them in her chest. “And every time I closed my eyes, I saw your face.” He pressed her back toward the counter with the weight of his body. “It wasn’t her I was touching… or kissing… or fucking… it was you, Leah. Every minute I was with her, I was wishing it was you.”
“Oh God.” She reached up and put her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth down to hers.
It was like sinking into something dark and warm and soft, the safest place she’d ever been. His arms pulled her against him, his mouth slanting across hers, hungry, sucking at her tongue. She moaned against his lips, pressing her thigh between his, finding him hard in his shorts.
“Please!” She tugged at her panties with one hand as he sucked at her throat, biting there, his breath ragged already.
His hands lifted her onto the counter, yanking her panties down and her nightgown up, probing between her legs. Just being with him made her wet and his fingers slipped inside as he kissed her again, his mouth taking her, his tongue pressed deep. She thrust against his hand, spreading her legs wide and then wrapping them around his waist.
He was hot and hard against her thigh, even through his shorts, and she reached for it, rubbing the material. He groaned against her mouth, panting as he broke the kiss and knelt on the floor between her legs, burying his face there.
“Oh God!” She grabbed his hair, pulling him into her.
“Shhhhh,” he urged, and she tried to be quiet, but his tongue was like quicksilver, licking her until she was straining against him, wanting more, more. She pulled her nightgown off over her head, playing with her nipples as he sucked at the wet, pink flesh between her lips.
“Yes!” She put her feet up on his shoulders and leaned back on her elbows on the counter, exposing herself completely.
“Oh put your fingers in me!” she begged, and he did, two fingers stretching her open, plunging deep. The wet, rhythmic sound filled the kitchen.
“I want you inside me.” She sat up and slid down off the counter. “Put it in me.” He stood, kissing her again as she helped him with his shorts, grabbing onto the length of him and squeezing hard. That made him grunt and grit his teeth, his eyes closing a little.
“Do you want me?” She tugged, twisting her hand, rubbing her thumb over the wet tip. “Do you want to fuck me, Mr. Nolan?”
“Brat!” He chuckled, grabbing her shoulders and turning her away from him.
Leah gasped, feeling his hand on her back, pressing her tummy to the cold counter. She saw him standing behind her in the reflection of the window over the sink, aiming straight for her.
“You wanna be fucked, sweetheart?” He ran his hands over the swell of her bottom, reaching between her legs and spreading wide. His fingers moved up and down that slit, teasing.
“Yes!” Leah nodded, tilting her pelvis, going up on her tiptoes.
“Tell me.” He rubbed the head up and down in her wetness, making her squirm and moan. “Shhh, Leah… we don’t want to wake them.”
She felt the press of him there, right there. “Fuck me,” she whispered. “Fuck me good and hard.”
He grabbed her hips, sliding in deep on the first try, making her whimper with the size of him. She took it all and asked for more as he started moving inside of her, pressing her against the counter with every thrust. She watched him in the reflection of the window, his gaze moving over her body as he drove into her, her nipples grazing the counter.
She reached between her legs, circling with two fingers. She was swollen and aching to be touched there, but she couldn’t help slipping her hand up further, feeling the place where he was pressed into her flesh, the skin taut around the shaft. His scrotum was heavy, slapping against her hand, the only sound their bodies coming together again and again in the dimness.
“You feel so good!” His hands tightened, gripping her hips as he drove in harder.
“Yes!” She panted, her fingers searching out that spot again, rubbing hard and fast, keeping up with his rhythm. It felt so good, she wanted to moan, scream, writhe on the kitchen counter underneath him, but she couldn’t. Instead, she just closed her eyes and rubbed herself off, the tremendous drive of him filling her with lust.
“I’m close!” He whispered a warning, and she looked back over her shoulder, seeing it on his face, the grimace, holding back, waiting. She rubbed herself faster, wanting to meet him, feeling that wet pulse under her fingers.
“Come for me!” She squeezed her muscles around him, making him hiss and bite his lip. “Come all over me!”
He pulled back and she almost cried out with the loss of him filling her, and then she felt him coming, watching him over her shoulder, his length thrusting up through his fist, shooting streams of fiery white blasts all over her. She felt the hot wet trails they made on her skin, pooling in her lower back, dripping down her crevice.
“Oh God!” She pressed her cheek against the counter and closed her eyes, his semen making a fast river between her swollen lips. The moment the molten liquid touched her there, she came, rubbing the thick, white fluid into her flesh, her whole body convulsing with her orgasm.
When it was over, he pulled her to standing, turning her around and kissing her, hard, deep, desperate. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around him, wanting even more.
When their breath had come back, he kissed her hair, holding her close, rocking her back and forth as they stood there in the middle of the kitchen with Erica sleeping down the hallway in her room and his new girlfriend (she’s not his girlfriend, I am!) asleep in his bed.
“What are we going to do, Leah?” he whispered into her hair, squeezing her so tight she couldn’t breathe. “What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” she whispered back, and she didn’t.
Chapter Ten
She kept Mr. Nolan like a delicious secret, and he kept her too. While Erica and Bobby went to the passion pit on Saturday nights with Buddy and Yvonne, Leah and Mr. Nolan were frequenting jazz clubs around town. He knew her far too well, taking her places they could dance until the wee hours of the morning, the sexual energy they created on the dance floor culminating in the back seat of his Cadillac. Her mother thought she was out with Erica, and Erica thought she was spending her Saturdays at home, and Mr. Nolan’s schedule had never been consistent on the weekends, so no one thought anything of it.
When the bars closed, they would go parking, far out on Belle Isle at the end of Tanglewood Street, making love like teenagers and often falling asleep until the sun came up. Mr. Nolan would drop her off on Sunday morning at the end of her block and Leah would walk home just as if she’d spent the night at Erica’s, getting back just in time to get ready for church.
They never saw anyone they knew because the clubs he took her to were all in an area north of Hastings and St. Antoine known as Paradise Valley. It was originally called Black Bottom because at one time its rich, dark, marshy soil, or bottomland, was coveted by the French settlers who farmed it, but until she’d learned the history, Leah believed her mother when she said, “They call it Black Bottom because that’s where the blacks live.”
Most of it had been razed a year ago by a Chicago developer looking to build high-rise housing. The biggest blues, jazz and big band clubs had been in Black Bottom until the development had forced them to relocate further west. There was a big, empty field there they called “Cobo’s Field” now, but a few of the clubs on the edge of the development had survived, predominantly black of course, a place where Leah and Mr. Nolan stuck out and disappeared in all at once. They danced, fast or slow, to the likes of Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Pearl Bailey and Ella Fitzgerald.
One morning Mr. Nolan took her to the Mayflower coffee shop on Woodward, just a block north of Hudson’s, next to Cobbs. They didn’t have a juk
ebox, but a pay radio, and for just a dime, you could listen to half a dozen radio stations. And another morning they ended up parking just up the street—they were both too hot for each other to wait until they found a decent place to park—and ended up falling asleep together in Mr. Nolan’s Deville, waking to the glorious sounds of a hallelujah choir. They had parked just outside the New Bethel Baptist Church.
Leah never complained about Erica’s double dates with Bobby or her newfound friendship with Yvonne, although Erica asked on occasion if it bothered her.
“You go ahead, have fun,” Leah would say, real casual, and make some excuse—studying for chemistry or helping Ada with the biscuits or her mother with the Ladies’ Auxiliary or pasting S&H Green Stamps into books. Erica would go off on her date, and Leah would go off on hers later that night, meeting Mr. Nolan in his car, or on occasion, on his motorcycle, at the end of her block under the cover of darkness, so Leah didn’t know who was more disappointed when Erica informed her she and Bobby weren’t going out that Saturday.
“I thought Saturday night was date night?” Mr. Nolan popped his head around Erica’s bedroom door and Leah turned down the record player where Shirley and Lee were letting the good times roll.
“Bobby had an away game. Stupid baseball season.” Erica didn’t look up from her Teen Screen magazine.
“Do you girls want to go to a movie?” he asked.
“What movie?” Erica asked cautiously. “This isn’t going to be another ‘The Conquerer’ is it? You always pick the worst movies.”
“You choose then.” He laughed.
“Donna said Peyton Place was a tragedy.” Erica was talking to Leah but then looked back at her father.
His jaw tightened. “I’m not taking you to see Peyton Place.”
Erica smirked. “Fine. Jailhouse Rock it is then.”
Mr. Nolan groaned. “Not another Elvis film! The boy can sing, but he can’t act to save his life.”
Erica examined her nails. “Well, it’s either Peyton Place or Jailhouse Rock...”
“Blackmail!” he sighed. “Fine, but if I tell you to cover your eyes...”
“Popcorn and Milk Duds too?”
“Why not?” He leaned against the door frame and slipped his hand into his trouser pocket. “We’re celebrating.”
Erica raised an eyebrow. “Really? Did you get a new client? Can I have a car?”
“As a matter of fact I did. Turns out I’m doing a portrait of Mayor Cobo.” He snorted. “And no, you can’t have a car, but if you’re really good, I’ll let you drive to the movies.” Erica squealed, jumping off the bed and starting to shut her door.
“Hey!” Mr. Nolan stopped her with his hand.
“Dad, we have to get ready,” she explained, rolling her eyes. “Some privacy please!”
“You look fine.” His gaze swept over Leah as she sat on the floor, her knees up and a little open. She knew her panties were showing under her uniform skirt and she smiled at him over Erica’s shoulder as she opened her legs wider. She was rewarded with a dark, wolfish look of lust.
Erica rolled her eyes. “With both of us around all the time—have you learned nothing about teenage girls?”
“Hurry up okay?” He sighed, looking at his watch. “I’ll call and find out show times. Peyton Place, huh?”
“Yes.” She pushed him out the door. “Now shoo!”
They spent the next hour trying on dresses and doing their hair and make-up in the bathroom. Erica decided on a pale pink empire waist dress with dark brown trim. They had thrown over petticoats and full skirts for the most part—except for formal occasions—in favor of the latest baby-doll dresses. Both girls had gone on a shopping spree early that year at Hudson’s during their annual back-to-school trip with Mr. Nolan and they wore them whenever they could.
Leah’s was a sea foam green color with dark green trim. They each had pocketbooks to match. The girls shared clothes constantly—half of Leah’s clothes were in Erica’s closet, and vice versa. The only problem was, if the dress was lower cut, she usually had to stuff her bra to fill it out.
“I need to knock off the black and white shakes.” Leah frowned, adjusting the neckline of the dress. “I think I’m getting fat. I swear I fill this out more than before. I don’t even need falsies!”
“Can I borrow your Strawberry Meringue?” Erica asked, already thickly applying the lipstick and rubbing her lips together to get better coverage. They weren’t allowed to wear bright red like Yvonne. Good Catholic girls didn’t.
“Are my seams straight?” Leah twisted, trying to see in the mirror. The skirt was a respectable length, coming down just below her knee. Sometimes she still felt a little naked with no petticoat or slip, just garters and stockings and a brassiere under her dress.
Erica bent to check. “Straight as an arrow.” She went back to putting on mascara, her blonde lashes turning magically dark.
“Do I look okay?” Leah turned sideways in the mirror and smoothed the soft green material over her thighs. Her black stiletto heels were incredibly high, making her legs look even longer. She stood almost a head taller than Erica.
“Like a million bucks.” She grinned, snapping her mascara closed and tossing it into her purse. “Are you ready?”
He was peeking around the corner, calling for them, when they burst out of Erica’s room in a cloud of hairspray and perfume—they both wore Evening in Paris and always exchanged a blue bottle of it every Christmas—clutching their pocketbooks, and his voice just stopped, mid-sentence, as he stared at them.
Mr. Nolan looked at them both with wide-eyes. The look on his face when he saw Leah made her blush. Walking in heels this high always excited her for some reason. She could feel the crotch of her panties already damp and molding to her sex.
“You two finally ready?” He cleared his throat and pulled his keys out of his trouser pocket. She was thrilled to see he was dressed similarly to the night when he went out with Virginia, and when she got close, Leah could smell his cologne.
“Wasn’t it worth the wait?” Erica pouted, holding her arms out and cocking her hip to one side.
He smiled, leaning over and kissing her cheek. “You betcha.” He slid an arm around Leah’s waist as they started for the door. “I’ll have the two prettiest girls in the theater on my arm.”
Erica went out first, and Mr. Nolan’s hand slipped down Leah’s waist, over the swell of her bottom, and squeezed. It was very naughty and very improper. Leah glanced up at him and smiled, her heart racing. His eyes had the same hunger in them when he looked at her, like he wanted to just eat her up.
“Keys!” Erica demanded, standing by the driver’s side door. He gave them over, reluctantly. Leah got into the back seat, sitting behind Erica, and Mr. Nolan got into the passenger’s side.
“Seatbelt,” Leah reminded, pulling hers across. “She’s likely to kill us on the way there.”
“Hey!” Erica protested, starting the car and putting it into gear. The car lurched forward toward the warehouse when she pressed on the gas.
“Reverse, Erica.” Mr. Nolan winced.
She rolled her eyes, looking at Leah in the rearview mirror. “I knew that!”
“We’re on ‘E’—can you stop at the Amoco on the corner?”
Erica got them to the gas station, glancing over at her father with a question in her eyes as the serviceman who trotted out bent down to ask, “How much, Miss?”
Mr. Nolan leaned over to tell him. “Fill it up.”
Erica turned off the engine and Leah watched the numbers tick by as the serviceman washed the windows and checked the Cadillac’s fluids.
“That will be five-fifty,” the serviceman said, leaning on the edge of the rolled down window.
“Twenty-three cents a gallon is highway robbery! You’d think the stuff was liquid gold. It’s not like we’re going to run out of it!” Mr. Nolan complained, handing a ten to Erica out of his wallet, who handed it to the serviceman to make change.
&nb
sp; “Gas is cheap,” the serviceman replied, handing back four dollars and twenty-five cents. “It’s the taxes that are high.”
“I hear ya!” Mr. Nolan pocketed his change as Erica started the car again.
Leah was glad the Cass Theater was only a mile from the warehouse. When Erica pulled crooked into a parking spot, Leah jumped out before she even had a chance to straighten the car—not that she intended to, since she was getting out too, tossing the keys to Mr. Nolan over the Cadillac’s roof.
“So Donna saw this?” Leah asked Erica as they headed off to the concession stand, each with a quarter from Mr. Nolan’s wallet. He was getting tickets and, at fifty cents each, Leah knew it wasn’t going to be a cheap night out.
“Yeah,” she replied. “I think it’ll be good. Better than The Conqueror he made me sit through. Ugh!”