Only Me: A Surprisingly Safe Book

by Ayers, Brandy

  “You’re already my forever. But I will love holding the piece of paper that makes it official.” Zeke kisses my forehead and slides me off his dick, cradling me in his lap. “Are you upset I hijacked your bachelorette party?”

  “Not even a little bit. I couldn’t think of a better way to say goodbye to my single life than with my first lap dance.” I look around at the empty strip club and smile. We’ve made a good life here. A life I didn’t see coming. “I wish Murray and Luther could be here to see what we’ve done with this place.”

  “Me too. I wish I knew them both.” We’ve talked a lot about our uncles. Zeke loves I tell him stories about them, the club, the countless LGBT teenagers they helped over the years.

  After a moment, we stand, righting our clothes before heading out of the club, hand-in-hand. During the short drive back to our house, my hand strokes Zeke through his jeans, teasing him until he’s hard and ready to go. I need to have him at least once more before we collapse for the night.

  “You’re a bad girl, you know that?” Zeke pulls me over the center console of the truck and settles me on his lap. “I should take you upstairs and make you beg for my cock for hours before I give it to you.”

  “Like you’d last hours without drilling me, that’s hilarious.” We both laugh and Zeke carries me from the truck to the front porch, like always. I swear my feet have barely touched the ground in the past six months.

  As soon as Zeke goes to unlock the door, we hear a soft cough to the left and turn in the direction. A skinny teenager, probably about sixteen, sits on the floor, his back pressed against the rainbow siding. When he looks up at us, I see he has a nasty black eye and bruising around his mouth.

  I squirm until Zeke sets me on my feet. He doesn’t let me get even a foot away as I hesitantly approach the boy. “Can I help you?”

  “Um, I live a few towns over. I heard this place was safe, you know, for kids like me. My dad kicked me out tonight.” Tears run down his face, and I reach out to cup his slim shoulder, but he flinches, so I let my hand drop. “I told him I’m gay.”

  Behind me, the air shifts and Zeke kneels next to me. “You’re in the right place. You’re safe here.

  Epilogue Two

  Five Years Later - Zeke

  My last move had been much easier. But a duffle bag slung over my shoulder won’t cut it with a wife and two kids.

  I slug another box from the house to the truck we rented for the day.

  “I told you we should have hired movers.” Casey leans back in her chair on the porch; feet kicked up on the railing as she watches me traipse in and out of the house, sweating my ass off. I took my shirt off to torture her.

  “We don’t need movers. We’ve got a house full of teens.” How was I to know they’d all disappear the minute I mentioned helping.” Sweat rolls down my temple and I wipe it away hastily.

  “Um, they’re teenagers. You expected them to help? Even if they had stuck around today, they would have done more harm than good.” Casey grips her belly and winches in pain.

  “Are you having a contraction?” I leap up the steps and crouch before her in no time. “Do I need to get the bag?”

  “No, just an elbow to the kidney.” With a deep breath, she relaxes back into the chair again a serene expression settling over her beautiful face. “This one is even more active than Willow. We’re going to be in trouble.”

  I grin so wide that my cheeks hurt. “Aw, come on. By number three we’ve got this parenting thing down.”

  Casey chuckles and shakes her head, obviously thinking about how full of shit I am. “Keep telling yourself that, Farm Boy.”

  Our first, Jackson, lulled us into a false sense of security. He slept through the night by six weeks, never got more than the occasional cold or ear infection, and willingly ate everything we put on a plate in front of him. We thought this parenting thing was so much easier than everyone made it out to be.

  Then we had Willow.

  She’s a little mini version of Casey. All crazy red hair and fiery attitude. She’s a three-year-old dictator. Hell, Jackson listens to her more than he does us some days. We hadn’t planned on having a third yet, but I fucking hate condoms and pulling out, and Casey hated the birth control she had gone on for a brief time after Willow was born. So, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

  “Okay, back to work macho man. Lots more boxes for you to move before Zsa Zsa and Butch bring the kids back.” My wife shoos me off the porch. I think she likes watching me sweat and lift things.

  “Hey, Zeke, need some help?” Tim, our first resident after inheriting the house, comes ambling up the walkway dressed in skinny jeans and the pride version of the Pink Pony T-shirt we sold last year at the pride parade. He’s still a skinny guy, even now at twenty-one, but he’s grown four inches in height and since putting things with his father behind him, has blossomed into an awesome young man.

  “Tim, you weren’t supposed to be back for a week.” I take three big steps and wrap him in a big hug. Jackson may have been our first baby, but Casey and I both think of Tim as our first kid. He lived with us until going to college three years ago and will be taking over as house parent for us now that we are moving out. “What happened to finals?”

  “Done. My four-point-oh remains intact; I have officially graduated with a degree in social work.” I swear he grows another inch before my eyes solely from the pride in those words. It hadn’t been an easy road for Tim by any means. But he worked his ass off to get scholarships and jobs to help support himself through college since he refused to let us pay for it. “Figured you could use some help getting your crap out of my new room.”

  Casey waddles up beside us, giving Tim a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she laughs. “You came at the perfect time. This old man looks like he’s about to drop.”

  “Who are you calling old man? We’re the same age.” I sling my arm around my wife and kiss the top of her head. I can’t be this close to her and not touch her in some small way.

  “Semantics.”

  Tim smiles at both of us, so big I can see all the way back to the fake tooth the dentist used to replace the one his dad knocked out of his mouth that night he came to us. “It’s so good to see you two. In college, I was surrounded by so many meaningless hookups, it’s hard to remember that true love does exist out there.”

  Casey and I look at each other, that familiar warmth spreading through my chest.

  “It’s good to see you too Tim. We appreciate you taking over for us here. Couldn’t have asked for a better person to take on the role.” When Casey and I decided it was time to move our family out of the Safe Harbor House, we knew we would need someone special to keep it going.

  Thankfully Tim agreed to take the position of house parent. “Are you kidding, this is an amazing opportunity. I have so many ideas for programs we can start. Group counseling sessions and classes to help parents through the coming out process with their teens.” Excitement sparks in his eyes, and beside me, I knew Casey would be feeling the same sense of pride that fills me.

  “Simmer down, nerd.” Claire, the second LGBT teen we took in just months after Tim arrived on our doorstep, saunters up next, hugging her foster brother before turning to give us hugs as well. “Okay, put me to work. I have a manicure appointment for seven, so you only have me until then.”

  “You’re going to help us move?” Claire is the girliest girl known to humankind, but also tough. You had to be when you were a trans teen in an area of the country that didn’t typically take too kindly to anyone even a little bit different.

  “I didn’t wear yoga pants out of the house for my health.” She sneered down at the casual clothes as if they have personally offended her. “Besides, I brought some friends to help.”

  Casey and I turn in the direction of some movement down the street and gasp. Thirty people walk up the sidewalk in our direction. I recognize some immediately. The teens we are currently caring for, ones that had only stayed a short time bef
ore moving on or going back home. The ones that had stayed long enough they felt like our own children. But there are others as well, people closer to my age I don’t recognize.

  “Oh my god.” Casey sobs, her hand flying to cover her mouth as she tries and fails to control her emotions. I pull her in tighter to my side. “Zeke, Luther and Murray helped them.” She points to several of the people in the crowd, introducing me around as the group gathers. We both turn back to Tim.

  “How did you do this?” Tears stream down my wife’s face, and even though I hate to see her cry in any circumstance, I know these are the best kind of tears.

  With a casual shrug, Tim shoves his hands into his pockets. “When you got the official nonprofit sanction, you asked me to start a Facebook page. People started messaging, saying they used to live here with your uncles. So, I started a private group where we could all talk about our experiences, and the older generation of Safe Harbor residents could connect with the current generation. When they heard you were moving, I asked them to help.”

  A man may be a few years older than us, mid-thirties, I’m guessing, steps forward. “Both your uncles were great men. They saved all our lives, and now you’ve carried on their legacy. The least we can do is move a few boxes.”

  One by one, the crowd moves to the house, and all we can do is stand on the sidewalk mouths hanging open as they pack the truck in less than an hour. It takes a little longer to unpack at the new house two miles away, but by the time night falls and Zsa Zsa and Butch show back up with the kids, we’re all moved in and throwing a hell of a cookout in the backyard. Soon dancers from the Pink Pony show up as well. The neighbors probably have no clue what hit them.

  I may not have known my uncle, but being surrounded by the people they helped, the misfit band of family they put together, and my own family I’ve built with Casey, I suddenly feel like Murray is everywhere. I send him a silent thank you, for giving me this life.

  Epilogue Three

  Twenty Years Later - Casey

  “We’re going to be late.” I pant and writhe against Zeke as he peels the strap of the dress down off my shoulder, kissing each inch of skin as it is exposed.

  “And whose fault is that? You knew this would happen when you bought this dress.” That wild, hard tone has infiltrated his voice. The one that sets my panties on fire even twenty-five years later.

  And he’s not wrong. The minute I saw the slinky emerald green dress in the store, I knew it would drive him to desperate actions. It’s probably meant for a woman half my age but screw that. He loves the curves that have only become more defined since carrying our five children. I would never hide them from him.

  “Panties off, wife. I need to get my cock inside that wet pussy before we’re forced to behave for the next three hours.” He pushes the dress and bra down just low enough so that my tits pop out, his mouth attaching to one aching nipple as soon as they are exposed.

  “Zeke, we can’t be late for our anniversary party.” I can’t believe it has been twenty-five years since he walked into the Pink Pony and planted himself right in the middle of all that I held dear. “Our children, our friends, are waiting for us at the restaurant.”

  “Well, you should have thought about that before you put that dress on tonight. Don’t pretend you didn’t know strutting out of our closet like that wasn’t the same damn thing as dangling a pot of honey in front of a bear’s nose. I’m just following my instincts. Now slide your panties down those lush legs before I rip them off.” His teeth press down into the fleshy swell of my breast the slight pain zinging through my body to land heavy in my clit.

  “I’m not wearing panties, husband.” The room spins as I’m tossed onto the bed, and that show of unrestrained strength has my pussy weeping for his length. He might be fifty, but Zeke’s body is still a work of art in my eyes. I don’t miss the lingering glances women give him when we go out. The distinguished grey streaks in his hair and laugh lines around his eyes only add to his appeal. He’s only ever had eyes for me, though.

  “Now I know you were trying to goad me into attacking you. Unless you planned on walking out of this house with no panties.” Zeke hooks his hands around my ankles and drags my ass to the very edge of the bed. “Did you plan on me discovering your bare pussy while we were in public, so I would come back here and spank your ass?” He falls to his knees, roughly shoves my legs apart, so I’m spread wide and vulnerable for him. “Fuck. Look at how wet my woman is for me. I’m going to take a taste, then I’m going to fuck you until you can barely stand.”

  Following through on his words, Zeke swipes his tongue up my slit in one long stroke, before sucking hard on my clit just long enough to make me scream and teeter on the edge of the oblivion I’m come to crave and only he can give. Just as I’m ready to tumble off the edge, Zeke surges to his feet and frees his cock from the black suit pants he wore just for this occasion.

  “You’d think I would have learned some control around you after a quarter of a century together.” Lining himself up with my entrance, he surges forward filling me with one brutal thrust.

  “Oh god,” I moan, loving the way he fills me to the brim. “Don’t say it like that. It makes us sound so old.”

  Zeke huffs out a laugh as he fucks me in earnest. “We are old. But there is no one else on the planet I want to grow old with.” Cupping my ass in his hands, he lifts my hips off the bed, giving him better access to rut inside me. “Now play with that throbbing little button for me. I want to see you come all over my dick before we go celebrate our love.”

  Obeying his order, I slip my hand between my thighs and rub my clit in time with his frantic thrusts. It takes almost no time before I’m tipping over the edge, screaming and twisting on the bed while Zeke spurts hot ropes of cum into my pussy.

  We collapse onto the bed together, breathing harder than we would have two decades ago after a round of lovemaking like that. We may not be as young as we once were, but our passion and commitment has never waned for even one day.

  “Okay, wife, go put some panties on. And no cleaning up. I want to know my cum is soaking your panties all night while we celebrate the first time I laid eyes on you.”

  “Such a dirty old man.” I giggle as I go to the closet and grab the panties I picked out just for tonight.

  “Maybe, but I’m your dirty old man. And you love it.”

  “I really do.”

  With his hand in mine, we make our way down to the car and across town to the Pink Pony. We long ago sold the entire business to Zsa Zsa, or Justin now since he has hung up his wig in favor of his CEO status. Justin took the club places neither Zeke or I had the vision for. Justin franchised, and now there are Pink Ponies in New York, Chicago, Miami, Las Angeles, and Las Vegas. There are plans to expand into Europe in the next year as well.

  I think Murray and Luther would be happy with how Justin and Butch have taken the place farther than our wildest dreams. Plus, it gave Zeke and I the ability to concentrate on the Safe Harbor organization and our family.

  But for tonight, the Pink Pony isn’t a high-class strip club. It is an elegant event location for our twenty-fifth anniversary. The chandeliers are dimmed, with candles on every table. Gauzy materials has been draped around the room, and they even took the poles down for the night.

  With Zeke’s hand pressed against the small of my back, we glide into the club, only forty-five minutes late.

  “Well now we know why the happy couple is late, look at that dress my darling.” Justin sashays over to us, holding my hand as I do a twirl for him. “You two are worse than Butch and I.”

  Justin releases me just as the twins come over to greet us. This is the first time I’ve seen our babies, the boys responsible for most our grey hairs since they left for college two months ago, and I make sure to hold them even tighter than normal. “Mom, you’re choking us.”

  “I missed my babies.” I give them each a smacking kiss on their cheeks, and they groan predictably.

 
Jackson steps up next, his very pregnant wife glued to his side. I’m so excited to be a grandma and equally ecstatic that Jackson found a woman he cherishes just as much as his father does me.

  Willow struts toward us with her latest girlfriend tripping along behind her. If our daughter ever settles down, I’ll be shocked. She decided to work for the Pink Pony in the marketing department after college, and she’s had a steady stream of short relationships ever since. “Mom, you look beautiful. And I agree with Uncle Justin, it’s obvious now why you two were late.” She winks and steps aside to hug her Dad, letting her little sister step up next.

  “Justine, you look tired, are you getting enough sleep in med school?” I brush my daughter’s hair back from her face and can’t help the pang of worry that sweeps through me as I take in her exhausted eyes and pale complexion. Justine is soft-spoken but mighty. After spending most of her life around trans teens struggling through some of the hardest times a person can imagine, she decided to go to medical school and become a surgeon.

  “Not getting even close to enough sleep. But it will be worth it, so I don’t mind.”

  I watch as she takes her turn hugging her Dad and my heart swells once again. I’ll never understand how I got so lucky to have this life.

  A sudden sadness weighs on me. It isn’t fair that Murray and Luther can’t be here to see how the foundation they laid for us turned into just an amazing legacy. Also not fair that if it hadn’t been for their deaths, my life would not be what it is. I wouldn’t have met Zeke. Wouldn't have turned the Safe Harbor House it a national nonprofit organization. Wouldn't have my children.

  But somehow, I know they would give up their lives all over again to ensure everything turned out exactly like this. It may not take all the pain away, but it helps to take a little of my guilt away.

  Zeke pulls me back to his side now that our welcoming party has filtered back to their tables. “Happy anniversary, Spitfire. I can’t wait for the next twenty-five years with you.”