Twelve Years

by S. L. Adams

  “Just relax, baby,” he whispers, bracing himself on his elbows and kissing my neck. He pushes a little further, hitting a wall which I assume is my hymen. I thought that had disappeared a long time ago since I’ve used tampons right from my first period at the age of eleven. Swimmers don’t have much choice. My mother actually coached me through my first time. One of the rare times when she acted like a mom. But I guess it’s still there, or part of it anyway.

  “Do you want me to stop? Is it hurting too much?”

  “No,” I pant. “Keep going. Just do it.”

  “Okay then.” He thrusts hard, breaking through. A searing pain shoots through my core as he stretches me open. I arch my back up, thrusting against him as he continues pushing until he’s all the way inside me.

  He slides in and out in a slow, gentle rhythm. “Oh God. It feels so good to be inside you, baby doll. So fucking good.”

  With every thrust, it hurts a little less as my body gets used to the oversized intruder. He kisses me softly on the lips as he makes sweet love to me. I’m just starting to enjoy the feeling of him inside me when he picks up speed, thrusting harder before his cock swells and pulsates as he comes.

  “You okay, sweetheart,” he asks, flopping down next to me.

  “Yep. That was awesome.” I rest my head on his chest.

  He wraps his arms around me, pressing his lips against my forehead. “That was pretty good for a first time. And it will only get better. I plan on giving you lots and lots of practice.”

  “I’m gonna hold you to that,” I laugh. I’ve found the perfect guy. And I gave myself to him. My first time was everything I hoped and dreamed it would be. I feel confident that we will find a way to make a long distance relationship work. I smile into the darkness. Life is good.

  Part Two

  2019

  Chapter 14

  Shelby

  I stroll down the long corridor toward gate forty-two. Terminal Eight at JFK is a familiar place, somewhere I've spent many hours of my life waiting to board flights. But today is different. I’m alone. The next two hours will be spent staring at my phone or people watching. By myself.

  Over the past few years, Gretchen and I traveled the world together. We’ve been everywhere, embarking on adventures on every continent. And we produced videos, which we shared on YouTube. Initially, we just posted the videos as a hobby. But our subscriber count went through the roof, toppling one million after a year. It evolved from a hobby into a joint business venture, which ended up making us a ton of money. Like millions. We invested in better camera equipment and trips to exotic destinations. And we had a blast doing it.

  I wrinkle my nose as I pass the coach class waiting area. Thank God I have a first class ticket. If I had to spend two hours sitting with snotty nosed kids and people reeking of cigarette smoke, I’d shoot myself.

  Wow. I've turned into a real snob. Oh well. I earned my way into first class. I deserve to be there. Ten years of university is a hell of a long time. Long hours studying and writing papers. Working shitty part-time jobs to save money for my grad school tuition. Sure, I caught a lucky break. But I deserved that too. My childhood sucked. I rose above my humble beginnings, and got the hell out of Missoula before it sucked the life out of me.

  “Good morning, ma’am.”

  I smile at the balding man checking tickets at the first class lounge, flashing him mine before heading inside. The room is quiet, only a few other passengers lounging on the wine coloured leather chairs. I take a seat in the corner, near the window. It’s a little early for an alcoholic drink, so I settle for a bottle of water and some fruit. Too bad I have a morning flight. I could use a strong drink of something. Anything to dull the anxiety creeping into my brain.

  I should have said no. Gretchen would’ve understood. She’s good that way. When she got back together with Blake Remington after a five-year break up, I knew they would end up getting married. When they announced their engagement, I prepared myself for the inevitable reunion. Blake and Alex had remained close friends over the years. Alex was married, and I was in a long term relationship. No biggie. But no. Gretchen didn’t settle for a traditional wedding that would be over in one night.

  She planned an elaborate destination affair in Hawaii. Seven nights on the island of Oahu. Then she delivered the final blow. The wedding party would not be flying to Hawaii. We would be traveling by cruise ship. Five days on a boat. With Alex. He would be the best man and I the Maid of Honor. Gretchen and Blake thought it would be a great way to spend some quality time with the people they chose to be in their wedding.

  I should have declined at that point. But I didn’t. I thought I would have Fitz by my side. Little did I know he would dump me a month before we set sail.

  Fat snowflakes twirl and dance around outside the large glass window, the tarmac a buzz of activity as I stare out, ruminating over how I will survive the next twelve days. At least I won’t be the only single person in the group. Gretchen’s friend Claire is unattached. She worked with Gretchen at an interior design firm in Missoula for the past couple years until the future Mrs. Remington had to give up her career and move to the mountains. Blake’s father retired and moved to Fiji, leaving him in charge of the resort. And Blake’s younger brother is also flying solo. Claire is a bit of a ho, and Gretchen predicted she will hook up with the single Bart Remington the first night on the ship. Not very reassuring. Oh well. I’m content being alone. I’ll just hang out in my cabin and read.

  The Ritz Carlton San Francisco resembles the friggin White House. Only the best hotel would do for the night before sailing. Blake and Gretchen have more money than brains.

  “Dr. Richardson?”

  I smile apologetically, my cheeks heating up as I realize my driver is standing with the door held open. How long has he been there? I have to get my head out of my ass and get my anxiety in check. “Sorry,” I say, climbing out of the town car.

  “No worries, m’am. You were daydreaming. Nothing wrong with that.” He pops the trunk and pulls out my suitcase.

  “I can take it from here.” I hand him a fifty.

  “Thank you very much, Dr. Richardson.”

  “You’re welcome.” I sling my carry on over my shoulder and grab the handle of my suitcase, taking a deep cleansing breath before I walk into the lobby.

  “Shelby!” I look up just in time to see Gretchen barreling toward me. “Oh my God. I can’t believe you’re really here.”

  I drop my bag as she throws her arms around me. “Why?” I laugh. “Did you think I would bail on my best friend’s wedding?”

  She pulls back, studying my face. “I wasn’t sure after I heard about you and Fitz,” she says softly.

  I shrug. “I’ve got nothing else to do. And who passes up on a free vacation?”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “You know I’m kidding, Gretchen.”

  “I know, I know,” she says. “I’m just glad you came. It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”

  After I check in, she follows me to my room. “This is really unnecessary, don’t you think, Gretchen?” I glance around the two room suite decorated in white and navy blue tones. A set of crisp white double doors separate the bedroom from the sitting area. I’m pleased to see a king-sized bed.

  She shrugs. “It was close to the pier.”

  I pull back the curtain. “Oh, fantastic view! The bay and Alcatraz.”

  “I know. It’s nice.” She pauses, chewing on her lower lip as I turn away from the window. “Did you get the itinerary that I emailed you?”

  “Yes,” I reply with an exaggerated sigh. “Unfortunately.”

  “What!? I’m a control freak. This should not surprise you, Shelby. I’m gonna let you get settled. See you at dinner.”

  I choose a short sleeved black dress with scalloped trim along the low cut neckline. It falls well above my knees, showing off my shapely thighs. Just because I’m thirty, doesn’t mean I have to start dressing like an old lady. Espe
cially with my newly acquired single status.

  After one last check on my makeup, I grab my purse and head out the door. Two shots of bourbon have calmed my nerves. Alex is nothing more than an old fling. As long as the booze keeps coming, I can continue with that delusion. There is no other option. I worked too hard and attended far too many hours of therapy.

  Gretchen and Blake are standing by the elevator with another couple.

  “Hey, Shelby.” Blake says. “How are you?”

  “I’m well, thanks.” I’ve only seen him once since he got back together with Gretchen. They came to New York for a weekend last summer. We had a fabulous time going to shows and out to dinner.

  “This is my childhood friend, Lester. And his wife Leslie.”

  “Hello. I’m Shelby Richardson.” I extend my hand to each of them.

  Lester is tall and thin, his face sporting a large nose and a pencil thin moustache. His wife could easily be mistaken for his sister. She is the same height as her husband, with a prominent nose and thick glasses that are far too large for her long, thin face. And she has a moustache! Her long flowered dress hangs like a sheet on her skinny, curveless body.

  “Nice to meet you, Shelby,” Lester says in a nasally voice, his eyes scanning my body with an appreciative stare, spending far too long on my chest.

  Yeah, I don't think so, buddy. I stand on the other side of the elevator, a shiver going up my spine. What a little pervert.

  When we arrive at the restaurant, two women are already seated at the far end of our table. The petite blonde jumps up, pulling Gretchen into her arms.

  “Oh, Joanna. I’m so glad you came,” Gretchen says.

  “How could I miss your wedding, Gret?” Her voice has a whiny, child like quality to it.

  Gret? Nobody calls her that. Or so I thought. Apparently this chick does. I study her. Barely five feet tall, natural blonde, smallish tits, decent dresser. I sense a genuine vibe from her.

  “This is Sally,” Joanna says as her friend rises from the table. A tall, muscular woman with short black hair and multiple piercings extends her hand to Gretchen. “Sally is my life partner.”

  Ahh. Lesbians. Sally sure. If I looked up lesbian in the dictionary, I would be sure to find a picture of her. But not her mousy sidekick. Joanna is very feminine. Interesting.

  I sit between Gretchen and Joanna, keeping one eye on the door. Alex will be walking through any second. Why is my pussy pulsing with moist excitement at the thought of seeing him again after so many years? He’s married. His wife will be on his arm. A wave of depression washes over me. Fortunately, the efficient waiter has filled our wine glasses. I grab mine, downing it in one gulp.

  Joanna chuckles. “A little thirsty, are you?”

  “Yeah, something like that.”

  “So, you’re really an orthodontist?” she asks.

  “Yep,” I reply, grabbing the wine bottle and refilling my glass. “What do you guys do?”

  “I’m a Pediatric Nurse and Sally is a prison guard.”

  Well, at least their professions match their personalities, even if they are polar opposites. “A prison guard? That must be scary.”

  “Nah. I can handle most of the little bitches,” Sally says. Her voice is so deep. If she wasn’t sporting a substantial load on her chest, I might think she was a man. No. On closer inspection, I notice she has soft facial features and pretty blue eyes. She is definitely a woman.

  A bleached blonde with a heavy layer of makeup and fake boobs spilling out of her dress, ambles toward the table. She has to be Claire.

  “Hey,” she croons loudly, drawing the attention of every male in the room. “Claire is here. Now the party can really start.”

  I turn away, failing to suppress an eye roll.

  “I saw that,” Joanna whispers. “She’s a little over the top.”

  “I like you, Joanna,” I laugh, glancing at Sally. “I’m straight, by the way. I like her as a person only. Nothing sexual.”

  Sally throws her head back with a hearty laugh. “You’re a hoot, Shelby. I think this is going to be a fun group.”

  “Here comes Bart,” Gretchen states. “So we’re just waiting for Alex.”

  “Hello darlin,” Bart drawls, taking the empty seat across from me. “I’m Bart.” He reaches out a hand. When I accept it, he plants a kiss on my knuckles.

  “Bart, you’ve been here for exactly thirty seconds and you’re already hitting on my maid of honor.” Gretchen wags her finger at Blake’s little brother. “Behave.”

  He laughs raucously. “Ain’t gonna happen, sweetheart. Your friend is a fox and I’m a wolf in hot pursuit.”

  I stare at him incredulously. Did he seriously just say that?

  “Bart!” Gretchen hisses. “Seriously. That’s Shelby. Don’t you remember her? She worked two summers as a lifeguard at your resort.”

  He studies me thoughtfully. “I dunno. A lot of hot chicks worked there.”

  My eyes focus on the door. He’s coming. I don’t know how I know. I just do. Sure enough, a few seconds later he appears. A lump forms in my throat as the memories come flooding back, just like I knew they would. That last night together. When he kissed me and touched me everywhere. The feel of him inside me as he took my virginity. He’s aged a bit of course, but he’s still very handsome, with a smoking hot body. I can see the outline of his muscles through his tight black polo shirt. His dark hair is shorter than it was that summer.

  Wait a minute. Where’s his wife? He’s walking toward the table alone. I elbow Gretchen. “Where’s his wife?” I whisper.

  She turns to me, her forehead wrinkled. “What?”

  “You said Alex was married.”

  “Oh shit. I thought I told you.”

  “Told me what?” I ask, panic rising in my throat.

  “Alex got a divorce. He came alone.” A devilish grin spreads across her lips. Oh! She didn’t forget to tell me. She purposely withheld the information. Because she knew I might not come. And I wouldn’t have. I’d prepared myself for a casual interaction with my married old boyfriend. I did not have a plan in place for spending twelve days with a single Alex.

  I feel his eyes on me. When I glance up he’s staring at me, his mesmerizing emerald eyes burning a hole through my irises and right into my broken heart. The one that shattered when he stole my innocence and then left, never calling or texting me with an explanation.

  “Hello, Shelby.”

  Chapter 15

  Alex

  Shelby Richardson. My old girlfriend from my summer at Remington’s Resort. The one that got away. I should have married her. She would have given me the life I dreamed of.

  “Hello, Alex,” she says curtly, giving me a cold stare. The sweet young girl I fell for all those years ago is now a grown woman. A fucking hot woman.

  I’d been dreading this trip. Twelve days of watching Shelby and her boyfriend together would have killed me. I called Blake to ask him how upset he would be if I backed out. That's when he told me about her breakup. I was ecstatic to hear she was coming alone. In the blink of an eye, a nightmare had transformed into a second chance. And I don't intend to blow it this time.

  She downs a glass of wine as I take a seat across from her. Her hand trembles as she sets the flute on the table and refills it to the rim.

  “Holy, Shelby,” Gretchen says, giving her friend a concerned glance. “Save some wine for the rest of us.”

  “Sorry,” she snaps. She signals the waiter. “Can you bring me your best bottle of tequila and charge it to me?”

  “Shelby,” Gretchen says quietly. “I was kidding. Drink as much wine as you want.”

  “It’s fine. I want something a little stronger anyway.”

  Even though I’m sitting directly across the table from her, Shelby refuses to make eye contact with me. I study my menu, stealing glances at her. She’s clearly angry with me. Even after twelve years, she’s still carrying a grudge.

  The weird, nerdy couple at the other e
nd of the table are talking nonstop about weather and climate change. I feel sorry for Blake. He’s sitting next to the guy, his eyes glazed over with boredom. The wife snorts loudly at something her husband says. What a homely woman.

  By the time they serve our entrees, Shelby has tossed back several shots of tequila. She barely touches her halibut.

  Bart chuckles as she refills her glass. “I bet you like to have a good time, don’t you, sweetheart?”

  I glare at Blake’s younger brother, but he doesn’t notice. He’s too busy staring at Shelby’s chest, the neckline of her dress revealing the swell of her gorgeous breasts.

  “I like to have a good time, Bart.” The blonde woman on the other side of him latches onto his arm, smiling seductively.

  He ignores her and leans over to whisper in my ear. “Wanna make a bet?”

  I clear my throat, my eyes on Shelby. “What did you have in mind, Bart?”

  “One hundred big ones for the first one of us to get Shelby in bed.”

  Blake’s little brother hasn’t changed one bit. I remember him chasing the girls that summer I worked at their resort when he was just thirteen. Blake has told me some crazy stories about that little bugger. Apparently, his dick has gotten him into a lot of trouble. He got some girl pregnant when he was sixteen. I guess she ended up having an abortion. Then he contracted gonorrhea.

  “What did you say about me?” Shelby snaps, glaring at him, anger flashing in those beautiful brown eyes of hers.

  “What makes you think I was talking about you, sugar plum?”

  “I heard my name.”

  “Well, baby,” he says. “Since you asked nicely, I’ll tell you. I was trying to make a friendly little wager with Alex.”

  “What kind of wager?” She glances at me cautiously.

  I stare down at my plate, rubbing my forehead vigorously.

  “Well?”

  “A friendly bet over which one of us gets you in bed first.” He licks his lips and waggles his eyebrows at her.