by Jen Luerssen
“Yep, just me, but my mom all but adopted Frank and Joe, especially after Joe’s mom died. I think she would have had more but there were issues.” I pull her a little closer, I like having her in my lap.
“That makes sense. Well, I’ll invite you another time then,” she says.
“I’ll look forward to it. According to Devonté, your dads are the ‘it’ couple and he wants a love just as transcendent as theirs.” I clasp my hands together and let a dreamy look pass over my face.
Kit giggles and rolls her eyes. “They are pretty gross still. They’ve been together for over 30 years and act like teenagers all the time. It’s nice though, you don’t see it often.”
“Yeah, my parents are in love and have a solid marriage but they are definitely far out of any honeymoon stage,” I say, thinking about my mom and dad. They would fight to the death for each other but don’t even hold hands in public.
“That seems normal, my dads are not normal, but in all the good ways. They have fought against a lot of bigotry and homophobia in their life, especially around me. They almost were denied for adoption. If it wasn’t for a well-connected political friend and well, money, they would be childless and that would be sad. They love being parents,” she says wistfully.
“They did a pretty awesome job too, so I’m glad they are parents too.” I brush her hair over her shoulder and hold her to me gently at her throat. She swallows and I can tell she wants to say something else but it’s hard for her. “Want a tour of my house?”
I feel her smile against my hand. “Hells yeah, I do.”
***
I adore my house. Every piece of it was designed by me, with the help of Joe and a great architect. Outside of the Monkey, there’s nothing I’m prouder of than my home. Kit and I drive over in one of the carts and even though the driveway is well illuminated it’s still pretty dark.
“I love how quiet Sonoma can be.”
“‘Listen to silence. It has so much to say,’” I quote.
“Did you just quote a 13th-century Persian poet?” she asks and I beam a smile because she knows the quote by Rumi, an ancient poet, philosopher, etc., born in what is now Afghanistan.
“I did, and I’m surprised you know him,” I say as we pull up to my well-lit house and turn off the cart.
“When I was in Alsace, the master vigneron was over the top obsessed with Rumi. He had framed quotes all over the place. If I didn’t know who Rumi was you’d be worried because he was everywhere, even in the bathroom.”
“Where else do you hang philosophical quotes?”
“Valid point, Salty.” She follows me up the steps and slaps my ass. “I want to see your wine cellar first, then your bedroom.”
“That’s a very specific tour that assumes I have a wine cellar.”
I unlock the front door and she walks past me to the kitchen. “You mean this door that says ‘wine cellar’ that I saw the last time I was here when you were shit faced?” she asks her hand underlining the metal sign on the door that does indeed read, wine cellar.
“I purposefully have stricken that night from memory,” I say although I don’t remember a lot of it anyway. “Everything except that you get affectionate when you’re drunk, but I already knew that.”
Her hands come around my middle from behind and caress my abs. “I love your hard front,” she says and I’m about to say something about other parts that are hard but before I can, her one hand travels to that part. “Is this the kind of affection you’re looking for?”
“So, whenever you’re drunk you grab other peoples’ genitals affectionately?”
She gives me a squeeze and I inhale sharply. “No, you butt face, only yours.”
I take her hand that is on my abdomen and open the door to my wine cellar. The steps are carpeted and when I turn on the light at the bottom, I hear her sigh behind me. My cellar is as big as my house floor plan and lined with racks of wine. In the middle is a bar area and a much smaller round table than the one in the big building but built similarly.
Her hands slide across the table to the center where the Monkey logo is carved into the wood. I come behind her and bump her a little as she leans forward. She laughs as she looks over her shoulder at me.
“You have ideas, Salty?” she asks as I press into her again.
“So many,” I say running my hand up her spine, dragging up the hem of her skirt a little. “Is this okay?”
Her hips swivel. “Yes, reminds me of our time in that ridiculous shower in Vegas.”
Sometimes, the Vegas night feels unreal, like it happened to other people, but that moment feels real. We were still technically in Vegas one-night stand time but we were both sober and somehow it was a million times better than the previous night. I press the middle of her spine and she lays flat on my custom table her hands making a pillow for her head.
“That was a good time,” I say raising her skirt until it’s around her waist and she’s only in her panties. I run my nose down the side of her ass as she opens her legs wider. My finger loops into the fabric and I pull them down her legs slowly. I kneel behind her and run my hands up and down the sides of her legs sending shivers through her body. “I love your body, you’re so delicate yet strong, even your tattoos only enhance your beauty. I can hardly breathe when you are in my line of sight. Then talking to you just amplifies your beauty because you are smart, kind, and funny.”
“Best. Foreplay. Ever.” She swivels her hips again, asking for me to put her out of her delicious misery.
I don’t make her wait. My hands grip her ass and pull the cheeks apart as far as they’ll go, then I dive in with gusto. I love going down on a woman, it’s such a sensory experience and I’ve paid attention to what women like, more especially what this woman likes. She likes it all but she loves it when I let loose, getting sloppy all over her pussy and ass. My one hand moves and I press my thumb firmly to her clit as I drive my tongue into her opening. I use my other thumb to massage her asshole slowly but surely dipping it inside, driving her nuts.
“Holy fuck, Sebastian, don’t stop,” she huffs out and I don’t stop, I go even harder and she lets out a little yelp.
When I start to pull back, she grabs the wrist of my hand that is playing with her ass. “I said, don’t fucking stop.”
I laugh and nibble a little on her inner thigh before I return to fucking her with my tongue. Minutes later she is pounding her palms on my table pressing herself into my face, humming loudly. As she calms, I nuzzle her ass cheeks and massage her lower back. As I stand, I pull her panties up and then cover her with my fully clothed body and kiss her cheek, earlobe, and neck.
“Bucket list,” she whispers.
“Huh?” I ask because I’m not sure I heard her right.
“Sex in a wine cellar is on my bucket list.”
“You have a bucket list? You’re just barely 25.”
“Oh shut it, Salty, don’t ruin my moment.” She stands and turns to face me. We are still toe to toe close. “You are too good at that.”
“Is that a thing?”
“No, thank god, but you excel at that like you’re being graded.”
I shrug. “I enjoy it and I know you do and I pay attention.”
“You do,” she says.
“Can you stay over?” I ask, my hopes way way up.
“I can, I’m not leaving until about ten,” she says kissing my cheek.
“Let’s show you my bedroom then.” I’m rewarded with a smile and then we run up the stairs.
Salty December
Sebastian
Thanksgiving comes and goes and my mother outdoes herself as usual. I spend the weekend at their house in Carmel Valley down south and try to relax a little. I end up thinking about Kit and missing her horribly. We text a few times but they are short bursts of flirting and food comparisons. She sends me a selfie of her and a peacock which is weird but also funny.
My mom can tell I’m distracted and tries to get some information out of me. Inste
ad, I make her take a selfie with me and then I send that to Kit with a text.
Me: My maman says hello.
Three little dots appear, then disappear, then reappear. I never receive anything though. Maybe she’s having reception issues. I tell that to myself but it’s not true. We spent the night together after the wine cellar and she was quiet, curling up to me in bed in her panties and one of my shirts. I wasn’t expecting any reciprocation after making her come, that was just as fun for me. Spooning her all night was enough. It was nice to sleep with her again. She is snugly in her sleep, something else I remember from Vegas. In the morning I woke and she was sprawled on top of me and I loved it. We made out a little but then she drove the cart back to her cabin to get ready to go home.
I finally know where her home is. Somehow, I never got around to asking her where her parents lived. They live five miles from the Monkey, just east of the square downtown. She said that was one of the reasons she considered the Monkey when she was looking for a job.
She sends no response to my text and I don’t hear anything from her all day Friday or Saturday morning when I arrive back at the winery. So, I send her another.
Me: When do you get back?
Chaton: I’ll be back around 5, is that okay?
Me: Sure, Gary and Colette are here and it’s not too crowded.
Chaton: Oh boo, it should be packed with small business Saturday winos.
Me: It is only 10am.
Chaton: Not too early.
Me: Well maybe you should come back earlier then, rally up all the drunks.
Chaton: I’ll be there in plenty of time.
She sends me a selfie of her lying in bed in panties and a bra.
Me: Hurry up.
Chaton: Plenty of time, Salty.
It doesn’t feel that way. Somehow, I feel an expiration date to us. It all feels precarious, like she could bolt at any minute. After what Wendy did to me and how I was unable to handle it, I’m worried. I’m almost past the point of my heart being in danger.
***
Kit is back by five as promised and hits the ground running giving a VIP tour and then selling eight cases of wine to those VIPs. But the time we close up, everyone is exhausted.
“Can I get a rain check, Salty?” Kit asks sidling up to me as I cash out the register. “I’m going to go pass out.”
“Of course, Chaton,” I say leaning in to kiss the top of her head. My first instinct is to ask her to sleep at my house but I have a feeling she will say no and I can’t handle it so I hold back.
I wait and wait for my rain check and it doesn’t come. She’s completely pulled back from me again but we are so busy with holiday stuff for the vineyard I can’t pin her down to talk to her. Any free time she has is spent somewhere other than the Thirsty Monkey. I assume she’s going to her dads’ house now that I know it’s so close. It’s been a while since I’ve been 25 but I don’t remember wanting to spend so much time with my parents then.
The first Sunday of December is our holiday party and Lia and the band are coming for two days. I have Joe and Betsy staying here in my guest room, Mikey and Frank will be in Mikey’s cabin. but I need a place for Andrew, Jen, and Mae. I find Kit in the big building talking with Jason.
“Hey, Kit,” I say waving her over to the door. I block it so she can’t get by me, and I don’t want Jason as an audience.
She looks at me and rolls her eyes, says something to Jason and walks to me. “You summoned?”
“I need to ask you something,” I say inhaling her scent. I’ve missed her being near me. “You’ve been avoiding me.”
“Is that your question?” She folds her arms over her chest.
“No,” I say shaking my head. “Can Andrew and Jen use your cabin Sunday and Monday for the party? I’m out of space but I don’t want them to have to stay off campus. You can bunk in my home office, there’s a bed in there.”
“Um, sure, why can’t they stay there?”
“They have their three-year-old, Mae, with them so it would be tight.”
“Oh, of course. I’ll make sure to kid-proof before they get here.” She looks distracted but not upset.
“Thanks so much, I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t stuck. ”I place my hand on her arm. “You okay?”
“Just fine, Salty,” she says and turns walking away from me.
“Wait,” I say placing my hand at her elbow.
She turns to me fully. “Everything is fine, I’m having some family stuff happening and that paired with the stress of being in charge here is overwhelming. I’m not avoiding you, just putting a pin in you for a minute.”
“A pin in me? Not sure I’m a fan of that.” My mind reels at what that might mean.
She sighs. “I’m not either but it’s what’s possible right now.”
I hang my head as she walks back to Jason, picking up on whatever they were doing. As long as she’s still talking to me, I feel like there’s a chance for us. Or maybe I’m just a fucking sap and can’t handle the alternative. I’m attached to Kit in a way I’d never admit to her or anyone else. She’s been back in my life for almost two months and in that time all sorts of confusing shit has happened but we always come back together. I get that she has doubts, a lot of her hesitation is valid and I don’t feel like she’s playing me or jerking me around. It’s not Kit’s style. If she was really done with me, I’d know it.
Later, I watch her help Colette restock the main tasting room with non-wine stock. Her willingness to chip in everywhere is why I promoted her. I know you think it was Mikey’s idea, but I was going to fucking offer the job to her eventually. Not one person I met for the job had a fraction of the passion Kit has for The Thirsty Monkey and her work. I stopped interviewing before Mikey even came to me.
“You going to stand there, boss man or you helping?” Colette teases me.
I take the box she offers me and bring it to where all the other specialty mustard, jams, and jellies are and set it on the floor.
“Hey, Salty. Look at you doing manual labor.”
“Are you implying that I don’t do my fair share of the heavy lifting?” I ask mimicking her teasing tone. “Because I’ve been here the longest and have never shied away from hard work.”
“Aw, boss man, I’ll back you up,” Colette chimes in. “Kit this guy has lifted more boxes than anyone here. In addition to that, he’s also helped put together a lot of the furniture. Including the table in the cellar.”
Her eyes go wide at the mention of the cellar. “The cellar is my favorite.”
“We know,” I say motioning to the t-shirt she happens to be wearing that says ‘Take me to your Cellar’ with a wine bottle on its side.
We work together quickly and it’s light and fun. Something I needed today. When Colette leaves us, Kit sits with a half bottle of pinot and motions for me to join her.
“You excited for the holidays?” I ask because I don’t know if that’s something she likes.
She shrugs. “The family goes a little over the top but I like it. If I was on my own, I’d probably do something more mellow.”
“The dads go big for Christmas?”
She laughs. “Not just Christmas, everything. We celebrate Hanukkah, St. Nicklaus day, Solstice, Fiesta of Our Lady of Guadalupe, just to mention a few. Peyton also celebrates Taylor Swift’s birthday on the 13th but he’s on his own there.”
“Sounds like fun,” I say, a little jealous of her magical upbringing.
“It was for the most part. They tried really hard to make my life awesome and succeeded. I think it made me appreciate simpler things a little more. Like, I love Christmas but I don’t have to have a sled pulled by eight caribou cross my lawn over fake snow so I’d know what it would be like to be Santa.”
“Holy shit.”
“That and a lot of caribou shit,” she says and we laugh. “Don’t get me wrong I love them madly, but they have zero chill when it comes to their kid getting the biggest and best. When I would have been hap
py with a pony ride at the holiday fair and some dolls.”
“So, they did you a favor. They over spoiled you and now you like things low-key.”
“I guess they did. I don’t think It was intentional. They both longed to be parents and had good role models. They just had too much money and went overboard. It’s sweet and I know how lucky I am.”
“They are the lucky ones,” I say and it’s cheesy but true.
She smiles and my heart beats faster. She’s a pretty woman, but when she smiles it’s like no one else exists. “You are a cheesy bastard, Salty but I like it.”
Salty Merry
Kit
Despite my dads’ tendency to go over the top at holiday time, I still love it but I love the quieter moments too. The way we decorate the Monkey for the holidays is more my speed. There are a million twinkle lights everywhere and a lot of greenery. The whole tavern smells like a pine forest and looks like a fairy wonderland. There are dozens of glasses out and lot’s of wine, of course. Platters of food cover the tables and there’s festive music playing.
I’m excited for the party but inside I’m a bundle of nerves. Sebastian is right, I’ve been avoiding him and it’s been so hard. He’s this amazing person, one I could completely fall head over heels for but it’s all so fucked up I don’t know what to do.
No that’s not true, I know what to do and I’m doing it this week. What? I can’t tell you first, that’s not fair to Salty.
The party is in full swing and I’m helping, kind of, behind the bar. Technically this is the employee party and I should be relaxing but I saw too many empty glasses so I jumped behind to help the hired bartenders for the night.
“Kit, get out here, you need to party with us, not serve us,” Lia calls to me. She is here with her fucking hot ass husband who I’ve been trying not to make eye contact with because he’s making me thirsty. The whole band is here and I’m happy because I like them a lot. Even Frank. Now that he is settled with Mikey, he seems more relaxed and not as much of an asshole. It’s nice to see her too since she’s been mostly in the city and only up this way about once every two weeks. Joe brought his girlfriend, Betsy, and I’m getting some thirst for her too. Jeez, the boobs and floral tattoos, it’s hard to look anywhere else. Also, she’s fucking hilarious and sweet. Andrew and his family are also the cutest and I feel a pang of regret.