by Jen Luerssen
“I like it here, you have a great place,” I say, picking up a picture of her and Sebass in front of the Thirsty Monkey sign. “You guys ever . . .” I say and immediately regret it when I see her raised eyebrows.
“Are you asking if Sebastian and I have boned?” she asks and I laugh because for someone who says she hates the euphemism she sure is using it a lot. “I am capable of having a professional relationship with a guy and not fucking him. I’m drawn to you, and I’m not sure why yet. I like your style, obviously. You seem smart, you’re funny, and I just like your vibe.”
“Despite you saying the word ‘vibe,’ I like you too,” I say and stalk slowly to her, “your style, your wit, creativity, and talent for avoiding a direct question.” At these last words, my arms go around her waist and I pull her to me. Her jacket was discarded at the door and she is in high waisted pants and sleeveless shirt, hair cascading down her back in big curls. I pop a few buttons on the shirt so it’s gaping open. “I’m only curious because I don’t want to piss off Sebass, he’s an old friend and I don’t have too many of them.”
Her hands go to her shirt, she pulls it from her pants and it floats to the floor. She’s wearing a white cotton bra and I can see her erect nipples through the thin material. I ghost a hand over one breast and they get even harder. “It was one time, we both agreed it was a disaster and we were better off as friends. He knows about us, and he told me to go for it.”
My arm bands around her and I unhook her bra with a flick of my wrist. I step back slightly to watch the reveal and am not disappointed. Her breasts are small, high and begging for my hands and mouth. I slide the straps off her shoulders and the bra joins her shirt. I bend to kiss her lips, then work my way down to the new territory presented to me. I worship each of her tits while Mikey pants and works my shirt off too. Once we are both bare-chested I return to kiss her lips and she pulls me close. She’s so warm and soft, I could literally get lost here in her and never leave.
“Fucking Frank, want to see my bedroom?” she asks and I push her a little toward the steps and she laughs. “I’ll take that as an affirmative.”
I follow her up the stairs, my hand hooked on to the waistband of her sexy pants. Her ass is round and perfect and I can’t wait to get my hands and teeth on that too. There are three doors, the middle one a bathroom and the others are bedrooms. She pulls me into the room on the left and my stomach drops. On the far wall of her room is a photograph mural of a surfer curled into the middle of a wave. It’s identical to the one I have in my room, along with the board propped in the corner. The other walls are painted a cool ocean blue and are covered with photos of waves, surfers, no scratch that, not just surfers, it’s her surfing. I’m examining one closely and I see that she has a number and several logos on her wetsuit. She competed.
“Unbelievable,” I whisper, truly flabbergasted by our similarities. “Are you sure you’re not a stalker?”
She smiles at me while removing her Vans and then her pants. “Why do you say that?”
My train of thought has veered onto a different track as I gaze over her now naked and beautiful form. “I don’t remember,” I say while removing the rest of my own clothes.
When I’m naked, she meets me in the middle of the room and we just stand there gawking at each other. She places her hands on my chest and mine go to her face. “We are going to have some fun now and then we will discuss the fact that you have a birch tree tattooed on your hip and the same mural I have in my room in the city.”
Her eyes widen and she laughs, throwing her head back, out of reach of my caress. “Yes, to the fun, and when I saw your tattoo yesterday during rehearsal I freaked out a little and thought I’d let you discover that weird little coincidence.”
“You’re making me feel a lot less original, that’s for sure,” I say. “Not that trees are all that original. Liked the birch because it stands for new beginnings and hope, something I need to be reminded of.”
“You need to be reminded to hope?” she asks, lightly tapping my octopus tattoo.
“Right now I have a lot of hope,” I say tracing my finger over the delicate branches that twist from her hip to branch out around her navel. “Hope that you’ll take me surfing this summer.”
Her hands travel from my chest to my abs and around to cup my ass. “You mentioned living near Ocean Beach, but I didn’t even think to ask if you surf. You didn’t seem like the type until I got your shirt off. Those are surfing abs for sure.”
“Fair enough,” I say and press my hard dick into her stomach. Her reaction is to squeeze my ass and I don’t hate it. She maneuvers me to the bed and I lay back as she straddles me. Her warm and wet pussy sliding along my hardness.
“Why this?” she asks dragging her fingers along my lower abs over my Carpe Noctum tattoo. “Is it just the straight meaning or are you an Angel fan? Maybe secretly in underground goth culture?”
My cock twitches as she moves from the tattoo to gripping me. “Straight meaning, I don’t know what the fuck else you are talking about but I need to be inside you soon.”
She laughs and squeezes harder.
She shivers and I cup her tits, giving her nipples a pinch. “You are stunning, Mikey. How can I make you feel good?”
Her lips twitch to the side as though she is really thinking hard about how I can please her.
F*cking Lightning Round
“EVERYTHING WITH YOU FEELS GOOD, Frank. It’s fucking scary actually,” she says and I totally get what she’s saying.
“Because we’ve only known each other for 30 some hours and it feels like I’ve known you my whole life?”
“Maybe it’s because we share so many things that we feel so familiar. What do you say we just see where all this goes, while fucking like rabbits, of course.” Her openness and honesty are killing me. Where did all of this come from? How did I get here in two short days?
“Follow the rabbit,” I joke and she smiles and pushes on my arms so they go over my head. She removes my glasses and places them on a side table, then repeats with her own. I’m frozen in place watching her move, she has a gracefulness and comfort in her own skin that most people only dream of. She reaches to open a drawer and retrieves a strip of condoms.
“That’s a lot of rabbits,” I say, “your expectations of me may be a bit lofty.”
She laughs as she tears one free and opens the package. “Let’s just start with this one, shall we?” My dick aches as she rolls the condom on and then leans down to kiss me.
“I really like kissing you,” I say, even though it’s obvious. My hands start to lift to touch her face and she quickly moves them back.
“Ah, ah, ah!” she scolds. “Keep them there for a bit.”
How can I argue with anything that’s happening? She rises up on her knees, aligns my head at her entrance and slowly, oh so slowly, sinks down onto me. Fuck, it’s been a few months and she is hot and tight, and I really like her, that adds a new dimension. Once she’s seated fully, she leans forward, laces her fingers with mine, and starts to move.
“Oh, fuck, Mikey,” I huff out.
“Yes, you are fucking, Mikey, or rather I’m fucking you and it’s awesome.”
I’m not usually much for taking in general and during sex I’m usually just making sex noises or asking if something is working, but there’s something hot about talking to Mikey in any moment.
Her body slides back and forth on mine and she swivels her hip each time my dick is all the way inside her. It feels sensational and her holding my hands down makes me feel grounded in a way that I probably should explore more later. Her head is lying on my shoulder and she is mewling in my ear. I turn because I want to kiss her but I don’t want to break our joined hands.
She obliges and we kiss messily, teeth clicking, tongues everywhere. After another swivel, I can’t take it anymore and grab her hips and sit up so we’re facing each other. Moving stops for a minute, which is good. I need a break so I don’t go off like a 13-year-
old at a lingerie fashion show. I run my hands up and place them at the base of her neck and she rolls her head back, her long hair dusting my thighs. We stay still for a few more seconds until I’ve gotten my shit together.
I kiss her, then lower my hands to her waist and flip her to her back. Once there I start to fuck her in earnest. My hands are by her shoulders and I’m pounding her into the mattress.
“Oh, yes, there, there, there,” she shouts as I give her what she wants. I take her right leg and bend it so I can go deeper and her head thrashes back and forth, sweat beading on her brow. “Shit, Frank, don’t stop, there, there, right there.”
I slow down a little to catch my breath and her face shows her displeasure at this. I chuckle and give her a light smack on the side of her ass. Then I resume my work in getting her to come before me. “Mikey, you close?” I ask.
She nods and her eyes roll back into her head as she lets out a keening groan, “There, there, theeeerrrre.”
I smile and look down at the connection of our bodies, listening to the slapping noises and smelling our arousal. All of it sends me over as well as I spill into the condom.
Breathing heavily, I pull out and roll over to dispose of the condom in the convenient trash can next to her bed. I roll back and pull her to me, spooning her back to my front. She intertwines her legs with mine, her feet on my calves.
When I’ve calmed down I kiss the nape of her neck and whisper, “There, there, there.”
I feel her body shaking with laughter. “Some men need direction. You didn’t really, but I was terrified you’d stop doing what you were doing because it was some magic dicking and I wanted it to last.”
“Magic dicking, huh? That is one I haven’t heard before. I’m glad you liked it.”
“Liked it?” she asks indignantly and untangles herself from me, sitting up. “Frank that was epic fucking and we are going to do it again and often, rabbits, remember?”
“Sweetheart, I’m almost 33, I need a little bit of recovery time. How about we play lightning round?”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“Ugh, sometimes I forget that I hang out with a bunch of weirdos. It’s a game my friend Paul likes to play at bars. You just ask questions quickly and the other person has to answer quickly then ask their question. The idea is that if you go quickly your answer is most likely to be honest as well as if you don’t have too much time to ask a question then it’s something you really want to ask. Like I said weirdos, and Paul is the king of them.”
“Wow, that’s the most that has come out of your mouth since I’ve met you,” she says coming back to lean on her side facing me. “I’m up for lightning round if you are. It doesn’t sound like something you’d like at all.”
“Normally, no, but I want to know everything about you.”
“You want to become a Mikey know-it-all?”
I nod. “I’ll start. Is your name Mikey or is it short for something?”
“My name is Michelina, which is a ridiculous family name so my dad called me Mikey,” she says, covering her face. “Who started calling you Fucking Frank?”
“My coworker, Stacey. We worked at a café called the Bitter Bean. She used to tell me I was the bitterest bean in the bunch. Whenever I got surly with a customer or was being my regular old self, she’d shake her head and say, ‘Fucking Frank.’ It caught on.” It really did, I don’t think I could shake it now if I tried. “How many surfing competitions have you won?”
“Oh man, I’ve only won one, but I came in second place a lot. I’ve been off the circuit for years. I love to go out to Stinson or Ocean Beach sometimes but usually I take little overnight trips to Half Moon Bay or Santa Cruz if I really want my fix.” When she talks about surfing you can tell it’s a passion. Hope lingers in the back of my mind that maybe I could be an object of her passion one day. “Why did you get an octopus tatted on your heart?”
“I like the mystery of an octopus, they’re such an odd creature and yet they are so unique. They can disengage a limb and still survive, I like their adaptability and creativity and I strive for that for myself,” I say, sounding like a pretentious asshole. “Why did you get yours?”
“They represent illusion, and I’ve always felt like my life was pretend, like my family had one thing planned for me, and it just isn’t who I turned out to be. Also, I just like tentacles,” she says with a shrug. “What’s your favorite instrument to play?”
“Probably guitar,” I say and she looks surprised. “It’s the most comfortable to play, I can write songs with it, and I can play for hours and it entertains me. Bass is more challenging, and fun to play for a crowd, but guitar has always been my favorite. What did your family have planned for you?”
“They wanted me to become a winemaker,” she says and I laugh. “Well more specifically for their well-known, corporate winery machine. My parents are Tim and Anita Natale of Napa.” She eyes me for a reaction. I know Natale wine, of course, most every adult does. It is a huge winery with international acclaim. They produce probably 50% of the wine in Napa Valley. I give her what I hope is a reassuring smile. “Do you think differently about me now?”
“Because you are a famous wine heiress? Of course not, I run with all the wine barons and distillery dynasty kids,” I say hoping she knows I’m teasing her in fun. “What is your favorite color?” I ask to lighten it up.
“Dark gray,” she answers. “What do your parents do for a living?”
“I grew up in Noe Valley where my parents own a health food store. They are Theresa and Carmine Fontana of Fontana’s Natural Grocer. They divorced when I was 18, but still own the business together. There wasn’t a lot of passion in their marriage. They were not good role models for relationships and until I met my friends I had a hard time believing good ones existed.” It’s true when I saw friends having loving, fun and healthy partnerships, that’s when I thought I could maybe have that too. “How many people have you had sex with?”
“Oh boy, that’s brutal, I had some serious ‘ho years so as of today you are my 21st. I’m also almost 35 too, so it isn’t that bad.” She looks deep in thought. “I want to ask you the same thing, but I’m hesitating.”
“No hesitating, it’s against the rules.”
“Okay then, how many fucks has Fucking Frank fucked?” she asks and then bursts out into hysterics. “Oh my gosh, no, why did I make that joke, it’s so dumb. My side hurts,” she says right before she rolls off the bed, which makes her laugh even harder.
“I had ‘ho years too, I guess, because we have the same number,” I half-shout so she hears me over her shenanigans.
She bolts up, still buck naked, by the way, she’s not a shy person and it’s glorious. “Wait, when is your birthday?”
“You took my question turn, but it’s July 4th, why?”
“What time of day?”
“You are not playing the game right, around 11:00 am, again, why?” I’m staring at her and smiling because she is making the funniest face.
“Where were you born?”
“San Francisco General,” I answer. “You are making me nervous, why all the specific birth questions?”
“Oh my gosh, we were separated at birth,” she says and runs out of the room.
F*cking Twins from Different Bins
I’M STUMPED AS TO WHAT just happened. I sit up and put my glasses on, waiting for her to return. She comes flying back into the room and hands me a worn and folded piece of paper. It’s a birth certificate, it’s her birth certificate and it looks just like mine but with a different name for parents and of course for her.
“Whoa, we were born on the same day, in the same hospital at the same time?” I ask as I notice the details. “What are the chances of that happening?”
“Like zero,” she answers and is pacing. “Do you think we’re really twins?”
“Mikey, come here,” I reach for her and settle her in my lap. “My parents are hippie oversharers so I’ve seen pictures of me coming
out of my mom’s vagina, we are not twins. Look here,” I point to the paper still gripped in her hand, “you were six pounds and one ounce and I was ten pounds, two ounces. It’s an unbelievable coincidence but we were not separated at birth, and definitely not related.”
“Do you think we met? Like our bassinets were next to each other? I mean, I thought dressing the same, the tattoos, and drink preference were just funny coincidences because we are both awesome.” She’s back up and pacing now, still naked, hair wild and everywhere, still stunningly beautiful in her harried state. “Maybe it’s because we share a soul, and it was split that day in the hospital between us.” She stops, hands on her hips. “No, I’ve been reading too much paranormal. We are just twins from other bins.”
I get up, walk to her and grab her wrists. “Mikey, it’s an unlikely scenario and a huge coincidence that we then met almost 35 years later, but maybe we just feel connected because we are the same age, grew up in the same area and have similar interests. Is it freaky? Totally, but what can we do about it?”
She heaves a sigh and rests her hands on my shoulders. “I’m tired all of the sudden, let’s go to sleep.”
“You want me to stay?” I ask, deathly afraid she’s going to ask me to leave.
“Of course, yes, I’m just a tiny bit freaked out and am crashing from the orgasm adrenaline, I want you to stay.”
We get back in her king sized bed which is way more comfortable than the bed in my cottage. “So can we talk about the mural now?” I ask and she shakes with laughter.
* * *
The next morning I wake up alone in Mikey’s bed and am a little disappointed. I was promised rabbit sex numbers but she shut down after our twin reveal. We talked a little as we drifted off to sleep and she was adamant about me staying, but there was a shift in the air after she produced her birth certificate. I really like her and am hoping this is a minor bump.
I take a piss, brush my teeth with my finger and pull my pants on. Mikey is sitting at her kitchen table drinking coffee, looking delicious in my shirt from yesterday. “Morning, sweetheart,” I say and walk to her and kiss her on the mouth.