by Jody Kaye
“But these are adults. With advanced degrees!” I come to Dusty’s defense.
These are the people you expect to know better. To be role models for the rest of society.
He shimmies out, sitting up with tented knees. “If you can’t accept intelligent people have preconceived notions, then you should look inside yourself. I’m not saying it to be a douche. I’ve fallen in that category too. What about you? Why did you go into medicine?”
“It’s a convoluted story.”
“Still want to hear it. Going someplace?”
“No, I’m right here.” I put my elbows on my thighs and cross my arms. “The first one of my friends got pregnant when she was fifteen. Then they all sort of fell one by one. Some had babies before they graduated. Others had abortions just to get pregnant again. It was a fifty-fifty split. I didn’t want that for me. I saw what it did to them. How it limited their choices. They had these beautiful little people to care for, but they were still kids too.” The more babies surrounded me, the more homework I did on preventing myself from getting pregnant. I’d already decided I hadn’t wanted the same outcome for me and made myself an appointment for birth control.
“They needed so much help. If I didn’t find myself babysitting for free, then I was waiting by a stroller at the park while my friends duked it out with their baby daddies. Even the boys who stuck around caused more problems than they were worth. They hadn’t wanted to be fathers to begin with. If my friends lived at home and hadn’t dropped out, their boyfriends didn’t get the exhaustion the moms faced being at school all day and caring for the baby at night. The guys wanted their girlfriends back—for it to be the carefree way it was when they were teens and not teen parents.
“I spend a lot of time drying tears, the moms’ and the kids’, and pocketing cough medicine because they got too close to getting caught the last time and never had the cash to take a sick baby to the doctor. You feel guilty because stealing isn’t the help they need and things go from bad to worse. I had a close friend with a toddler who got pregnant a second time. Amy decided not to have the baby, but didn’t tell her boyfriend until after. She had no choice because he was pressuring her into sex and she couldn’t after the procedure. In between shaming her for being a so-called murderer, he beat Amy up. Their child was in the room. The neighbors called the police, which was what saved her. The EMTs wanted her to go to the hospital, but she had to choose between that and paying his bail for domestic assault. I wound up over there with leftover bandages from our medicine cabinet…” I let my voice trail. I don’t want to tell Dusty the rest. This afternoon it hits too close to home.
“Anyhow, Morgan was a sure-win to get out of there whether he had a kid or not. Me? All I could do was pay attention in school and hope for the best.” Becoming a doctor was out of my scope, but when I found out there was such a thing as a physician’s assistant, it was where I set my sights.
“I’m proud of you for reaching your goal,” Dusty says like he’s watched me scale a lofty peak.
He has, though, hasn’t he? I’d simply refused to look down as I climbed to listen for the silent cheers of the man rooting me on.
“Oooh… Deeper,” Cece moans.
My chest shakes as the meat of my palms press into her upper back. “Supposed to say that when I’m inside of you.”
I’d meant it a little more seductive, but it makes her laugh. I’m beginning to like that response as much as the ones when she’s moaning and writhing beneath me while I whisper dirty words in her ear.
Cees is anything but the quiet type when I get her off. At least whenever Cece has laughed, I haven’t had to cover her mouth. It’s a noise anyone can overhear and not pop an eyebrow over. Admittedly, the past few times I’ve brought her to the brink it’s also been nice not to have to mask her cries of pleasure so they don’t echo off the walls.
I’m not sure how she persuaded me to give her a back rub, but you’ll hear no complaints from me. Cece is topless on the bed and I’m digging at knots between her shoulder blades. Her skin is soft, and I’d love to roll her over and see if she’ll murmur these same words a little dirtier while I’m buried inside of her.
“Can’t be doing everything right if you’re this tense?”
She struggles to roll over and I lift my hips, putting my weight on my bad knee. Met by the sight of her glorious tits, the reward is well worth the tweak of pain.
“It’s more the trip down memory lane. Talking about my past brings up too many negatives.” She places her hands over mine as I massage up her torso and palm her breasts.
“Don’t worry about that shit. It’s long gone and you’re unsto-p-pable.” I release a sigh, wanting in this one instance to be more eloquent.
Double pronouncing the p right then was like coming too soon. Celine senses the turmoil caused by not being able to compliment her the way she deserves without stammering.
“Why don’t you stutter when we’re together?” One set of her fingertips move, dancing from my beard, down the thick column of my neck and playing with the chest hair surrounding my nipples.
“Shorter words and sentences.” We touch one another in parallel, pinching, tweaking, caressing. “Also, may or may not have practiced.”
“I may or may not need an explanation.”
“Simple. Guys don’t need to be descriptive asking for a blow.” And if he’s had his cock in his hand, fantasizing about driving his dick between anyplace on a lady, he’s repeated the phrase he’ll tell her in his head a million times.
She giggles and her belly goes concave, releasing pent up tension.
“I like you like this, Cees.” I move again, pulling her knees apart and lowering my hips to hers, rocking into her pelvis.
“Half naked in your bed?”
“Happy… and topless… in my bed.”
I cage her face in between my elbows, burying my nose into her long hair and sucking the sweet spot behind her ear.
Friction strains the denim seams of our jeans. The last time I dry humped a girl, I wasn’t more than a boy. The corners of Cece’s mouth turn up as her eyes close and she bites her lip. Her soft sounds grow louder. I’d forgotten how fun it was to get anyone off this way.
Impatient, she fumbles at my waistband. “Please.”
“Beg,” I demand.
“Fuck me.”
“No.” My lips torment hers with a slow, steady kiss. The rutting we’d done in my truck was an unexpected aftereffect from our month away from one another. Don’t get me wrong, I thoroughly enjoyed the frenzied pace then and the one we kept while tangling up the sheets last night before passing out. But this kind of afternoon delight? I want to savor it or else I’d have bent Celine over the counter in the bathroom as soon as I finished installing the faucet. And I’m done with fucking her over a sink, unless we move on to the one in the kitchen. Now there’s a thought to ponder. Plenty of flat surfaces in there to spread this woman out and feast on her bounty.
I lean back, popping the button on her pants and shimmy them down her legs. She’s got on the thinnest pair of light pink underwear I’ve ever seen. The cleft of her pussy is visible, almost as if she’s wearing nothing at all.
“Panties?” I’m shocked.
“This mountain man instructed me to cover my ass to stay warm.”
I’ve got two hands ready and willing to heat up that ass. Overzealous stripping them off of her body, the edges fray. I hold them up.
“Oh, I was sort of into those. They fit nice and snug.” Her head tilts on the pillow and she shoots me a devilish grin.
“Buying you more so I can take ‘em off again… Know something else fits you ‘snug’ that’ll make you feel nice?” I line my cock up with her entrance, pushing in leisurely to stretch her slick core.
Cees meets every stroke, lifting her pelvis as I rock into her.
This kind of pleasure doesn’t happen all the time. There’s hot and dirty fucking, makeup sex, and the instances your dick needs attention and
the only true desire is getting your rocks off with a sure, easy lay. It’s not been so long since I was in a relationship that I’ve dismissed those nights where the bump and grind of screwing is a box on your to-do list; Driven carpool, check. Worked out, check. Bought groceries, check. Banged your soon-to-be wife, check.
And then there’s making love. The swivel of a woman’s hips as you ride the apex of desire, urging one another on, giving and finding gratification in the torturous ride to the peak when you fracture, falling apart and climaxing.
It’s been so long since I’ve had someone in my arms, wrapped around my body, whom I care this much about, that I can’t help hungering for more. I want to take Cees higher. To make her scream louder. To feel her come and the rush of wetness drench my balls. My appetite was wet knowing my spunk lined her cunt, and now with the taste of it neverending? The potential for more has me craving all the things I swore I’d give her heart time to catch up with.
We tried “us” on for size the past few days. It’s working. I’m ready for more and the way Cece claws at my shoulders and back as I drive us forward has me certain she’s there too.
She quivers and tightens and I edge back, testing. Cece whimpers in response, clasping her palms against my face, and fusing our mouths. The kiss deepens and we lose ourselves. She cries out, arching her back. Her breasts rise. I suck one perfect taut nipple into my mouth, scraping my teeth against the tips while filling her with my cum.
“God, why is sex with you always so fantastic?” Cece pulls the sheet up to cover us, resting her head on my pec when I’ve rolled off of her.
Her tongue peeks out, licking the place on me that I’ve sucked on her.
She gets quiet while I catch my breath.
“Dusty?” She hesitates. “When you said last night it was only me, did you mean it?”
“Haven’t been with anyone else since this started, no.”
“Why? I’m the bathroom girl. I wouldn’t know if you were telling the truth or not.”
I roll to my side so she has to move too and tip her chin up with a knuckle, skimming her jawbone. “Didn’t go into it with that intent. Thought I’d take you on a date sooner. Didn’t happen.”
“Why not?”
“Bathroom girl seemed happy with the way things were. If it was the only way I could have you—”
“You wanted us to be more like this?”
“Were you…” with anyone else?
“No!” She can’t get the words out of her mouth fast enough. “I don’t bed hop—even if we weren’t doing it in a bed—I hadn’t been with anyone in a while before you.”
We’re quiet for a second while how monogamous we’ve both been sinks in.
“Any reason?” I’m a dick for wanting reassurance only I can make her feel like this.
“Morgan’s trial was distracting and grabby customers at Sweet Caroline’s don’t exactly spur your sex drive. Once you begin reading into why someone wants you, you sort of feel—I don’t know exposed, dirty even, as if no one respects what you have to offer. And you try harder to prove the other things you’re doing make you valuable.”
“I’m sorry if I made you feel like that.”
“Same goes for me, if you felt the same way. I wanted you to want me in all the right ways and still couldn’t allow myself to think you actually did. The past week—this weekend especially—makes up for the months of limbo.”
“For me too.”
“What happens when we go home? What do we say?”
“We’re no good at kiss-and-tell.” I stop to gather the right phrase. “Per-haps we say we went out a few times, and it took longer to be sure we clicked.” Our friends will rib us, but they’re decent folk. They’ll understand we hadn’t wanted to disappoint or cause undue drama. “Let’s leave what we were doing at the factory out of it.” I sure as hell don’t want anyone nicknaming her something as dismissive as “bathroom girl”.
“So we have a plan?”
“Assuming you’re ready for everyone to know.” I wait for confirmation.
“I do. Do you?”
“Hell, yeah.” Thinking back, it’s all I have wanted all this time but hadn’t had the balls to ask for. I’d blame it on my limited experience with relationships over the past few years, putting my daughter first, and not finding the right person. But it goes deeper. When I’d found a woman I wanted to try again with, worrying Cece couldn’t reciprocate put a crimp in my armor.
Getting to know how Celine ticks, a glimpse into her own insecurities, proves how misplaced the lack of confidence in myself was.
“Your ice cream purity is one of the saddest bedtime stories I’ve ever heard.”
Our afternoon activities flowed past suppertime. Sustenance being of the utmost importance, we donned boots and jackets an hour ago to replace all those calories. I’m hoping we burn some of them off again later.
Even a big guy like me forgets how freeze-your-balls-off cold it is during the winter once the sun sets behind the mountains. True to her word, Cees stomped her feet to stay warm, while I tended to the grill. I kidded it was a damn good thing she’d packed more pairs of those paper-thin panties in her overnight bag to keep her ass warm. Then I snuggled her into my arms to maintain our body heat, teasing that her teeth-chattering company made it hard to understand what she was saying. It’s easy not to take yourself too seriously when you’re able to let your guard down.
After dinner, Cees scooped us both bowls of ice cream. Hers is vanilla. She made me choose a single flavor—I went with strawberry—and I swear she would have spooned off the infinitesimal bits of chocolate had I not intercepted the dish beforehand.
“There is nothing wrong with enjoying one thing at a time,” she retorts.
I noticed her meat and veggies didn’t touch. Her plate looked almost like those divided ones Sylvie had when my daughter was learning to feed herself.
I don’t want to be an airplane spoon dad, but find myself holding up a utensil the way I had at the dessert bar in Raleigh. “Try this.”
There was fudge in the back of the fridge. Who doesn’t like chocolate covered strawberries, other than the woman wrinkling her nose and leaning away from the warm and melty bite of ice cold ice cream?
“Nope. Nope. Nope. No way. Get that out of my face.” She mock bats at the food. Her lips seal shut, but the smile she’s wearing lights up the dark places inside me, reviving a dormant part of my life.
I have no way to explain other than, you don’t realize what you have until you lose it. Healing seals off a bit of that pain, so it doesn’t hurt quite as bad. Then when the casket is cracked open again, the memory isn’t agony, it’s joy. It’s like life hands you a drink toasting, “Hey, remember happiness? This was what that unabashed feeling was like. And you can still have it without all the suffering. You still deserve satisfaction without the strings of grief attached.”
I’m not sure which of the three of us—Cees, me, or my dick—was up first this morning, but we all appreciated the groggy waking while our limbs tangled together. The velvety softness of touching one another and spilling inside of her whenever I’ve pleased is something I’m ready to get used to.
It’ll be weird sleeping alone tonight after I drop Cece off. We have the rest of the day, though, and Cees seems as if she’s in no rush to get home. Neither am I.
We’re about to take up residence on the couch to figure out what to do with the day before having to pack up when she sights a bin of toys up on the balcony.
“Who is your favorite Disney Princess?”
She rests a knee on a cushion, straddling my hips. Her nightshirt, my shirt, rises. Cece sinks to my lap, the only fabric separating us is the flannel of my pajama bottoms.
“Don’t have one.” I tug her butt closer so that my cock rests where it belongs. I love my kid. Love that Cees is comfortable asking about Sylvie. Right now, though, the only person I want screaming “Daddy” is this woman.
“You have to. You have a daughter.
” She presses a hand to my chest to stop me from grinding up against her clit.
Is she serious? We’ve got about four hours, six max, and then we’re saying goodbye.
“Okay, Cinderbelle.” Cece looks at me like I’ve misspoken. “Maybe Sleeping Elsa?”
“There’s no such characters. You tease Sylvie like this, don’t you?” It dawns on her what I’m doing.
“Cees?”
“Yeah?”
“Let it go.”
She snorts, thumping a flat palm on my pec, and rolling her eyes. I hold it still as she compliments, “You’re a good dad.”
“Thanks. You like kids?”
“They’re great.”
“Want any of your own?” I’ll give you a few. Let’s practice.
“Someday.” She shrugs and something inside of me shifts.
“Does that mean you aren’t interested in coming back up here next weekend with me and Sylvie? You could bring your charts and I’ll take her to the slopes while you work so we don’t disturb you.” Winter only lasts so long. I’d love to get a few runs in, bring my windburned-cheeked girl back here where we can spend some time together and she can get acquainted with Cece.
“Um, it may be too soon? A full weekend is a lot. I couldn’t sleep in your bed, and she might have a lot of questions she’ll be uncomfortable asking while I’m around.”
“You’re right.” I scrub my face. I’m putting the cart before the horse. Having them both here would combine the best of both my worlds. Renata said I needed to manage my relationships with both Sylvie and Celine. I’m tired of them being separate and since the lights went up signaling Celine’s last night on stage, I’ve been ready to get on with my life.
“It’s not that I’d never like to, Dusty. I would. It’s just maybe when we finally do, it can start out smaller? Something local like the children’s museum and then take Sylvie for chicken and waffles. Does she like breakfast for dinner as much as her dad?”