Boy Toy

by Sarina Bowen

“Hiiiiiiiiiii,” Ash says, drawing it out.

  I squint my eyes. Something is not right here. Not that they’re already in my house—they know where the spare key is—but it’s the way they’re just standing there and smiling. Ash is nodding with this smirk on her face. Brynn is rubbing her belly like she’s trying to make a genie come out. Who knows? Maybe she is. It is too hot to be pregnant right now.

  “Hi?” I ask and then, “Ash, could you?”

  She nods and walks to the stroller. I unstrap Amy and hand her to Ash who carries her like she’s a bomb about to explode if she jostles it too much. Amy wouldn’t explode; she’d just cry after being startled. Kate’s the one you need to watch out for.

  We quietly creep upstairs, tuck the girls in, and then I’m breathing normally again. I’m not even feeling Liam’s hot, supple lips against my own. Nope. Not one bit. Or imagining a different kind of kiss from him. One that’s a little lower? A lot lower? More intimate? Gosh. Can’t I just say it? One on my clitoris.

  “You’re all red,” Ash says, but she says it in this weird way, like she knows something.

  “It’s ninety degrees out and 99% humidity. And I just took the girls on a massive walk.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I don’t answer her. We just walk downstairs, careful not to make any noise. We need a Netflix and cheesecake night like nobody’s business.

  Or maybe that’s just me.

  Moments later we’re settled onto the sofa while Brynn opens a couple of containers. She pops something into her mouth and moans. “This is so good. I’ve outdone myself, I think.” She quickly swallows. “I brought an appetizer, the main course, and a dessert.”

  “Oh wow!” I say. “I wasn’t expecting a full dinner!”

  “Wellllll, technically it’s not dinner. It’s three different cheesecakes. The goat cheese and onion tart is the appetizer. New York-style cheesecake is dinner. And the dessert is chocolate cheesecake with strawberries and whipped cream.”

  Ash moans, too. “We’re really living the dream here, ladies.”

  We all nod.

  Once we’ve loaded up our plates and I’ve poured some kombucha—it’s really good for the gut flora—we collapse in the living room, ready to veg out.

  “What are you guys in the mood for?” I ask, bringing up the Netflix icon on my screen.

  “Hmmm…” Ash says. “I dunno. How about something sexy? Like, The Graduate!”

  That’s a little weird. Usually Ash asks for some kind of action flick involving explosions or car chases or both.

  “Nah,” Brynn says. “I’m much more in the mood for American Pie. You know, I think that’s the movie where the term MILF was invented. You know, a Mother I’d Like To Fuck.”

  There’s a massive scoop of New York-style cheesecake hovering just inches from my mouth when everything clicks into place. “Dammit!” The fork clatters to my plate. “What did you guys see?”

  They both collapse in hysterics. Seriously, they’re laughing so hard that Brynn might go into labor. I should’ve known when I entered the door and they were al oh, hiiiiiiii. And Brynn’s eyebrows were wagging. And Ash was all smirky. They must’ve seen Liam kissing me! They must’ve driven right past and I was so involved I didn’t even notice.

  “Just tell us if that runner boy is as good a kisser as I imagine him being.”

  And I get a little bit jealous all of a sudden when Ash says that. Like my inner goddess growls mine.

  “Please say there’s more where that kiss came from!” Brynn this time. “Please tell me there is boinking. I can’t boink right now. It’s just too much effort, but I’d love to live vicariously through you.”

  “No! There’s no...boinking.” I clear my throat, set the cheesecake down. “Or blowing. Or banging. Or anything. It was just a kiss.”

  Ash shakes her head. “I know what a just-a-kiss looks like, and that was not. That’s was just-a-foreplay. That dude wants you so bad.”

  “Liam,” I say, and I sort of sound all breathy and ridiculous.

  “Liammm,” they echo, mimicking me in the same voice.

  Fucking girlfriends.

  “So…” I should probably just tell them. They’re my best friends and they’ve always been my support system. They’ll tell me the truth and be real with me, and consider all the options. They won’t jump to conclusions and I know I can trust them.

  So why am I procrastinating? Why don’t I just blurt it out?

  “Liam wants to have a no-strings-attached sexual relationship with me to cure me of my sex drought and because apparently it will fulfill some inner fantasy he’s had of me since he was fourteen.”

  This is the part where my besties ponder the question with me. We’ll have an in-depth conversation discussing the pros and cons and the possible emotional complications, and…

  Ash says, “Do it.”

  Brynn says, “Yeah. Fuck him.”

  Ah. That was fast. “But aren’t I too…”

  “Short?” Brynn guesses. “Nah.”

  “Uptight?” Ash supplies. “Didn’t look like it a half hour ago.”

  “...Old,” I finish. “He makes me feel like a cougar.”

  “You can’t be a cougar until at least forty,” Ash says. “It’s a rule. So you have five years left. But in five years he’ll be thirty-four, and the differential between your ages will be inside of twenty percent. So you will have aged out of cougardom.”

  “You’ll be fully amortized,” Brynn adds.

  We both give her weird looks. “Do you know what amortized means?” Ash asks.

  “No, but it sounds like the Latin word for love.” She shrugs. “Let’s eat cheesecake and watch a kissing movie.”

  And that is why the three of us have never successfully completed a serious conversation. We have, on the other hand, successfully completed many a cheesecake.

  9 Nookie

  Sadie

  The rest of the week goes by way too slowly. Liam manages to be assisting other parents every time I turn up at daycare. But even if we don’t speak, I practically burst into flames every time we’re in the same zip code.

  Maybe it’s just my thighs rubbing together, causing extra friction.

  Nope. It’s the sight of Liam. That messy hair. Those shoulders. That firm chest. Those blue eyes.

  Gah!

  I honestly can’t picture myself leading him to my bedroom for a casual night of sex. I mean, how do I even do that? “Come here big fella? Come to momma?”

  Too much eww.

  Maybe the ability to seduce a man in bed just shrivels up after you’ve been off the market a few years. Like, I don’t know, how in science fiction movies someone gets their life essence sucked out of them and they’re left a desiccated sheath. Maybe that’s what I am. A desiccated sheath.

  Maybe all of this is moot anyway. Maybe he didn’t mean any of it. Maybe...

  Friday evening he texts me just after I’ve put the girls to bed. And the minute my phone lights up with his name, I feel a shimmy of excitement. Tomorrow is Saturday, and maybe he was serious? He means to water my sexual dry spell?

  He texts: Should I bring over dinner tomorrow? I’ll bet the girls would love my butter chicken.

  Hmmm.

  I can’t have the girls getting used to having Liam around. Also, they’d never settle down if he was there. And how can I do a no-strings thing if he’s cooking for me?

  This would have to be an after-bedtime kind of thing, I tap back. You’re too distracting.

  You’re pretty distracting yourself, he writes back. I’ve been on the same chapter of this book all week. Can’t seem to read, because I’m thinking about undressing you tomorrow night.

  Just reading those words gives me a crazy thrill. I can’t decide if I’m more excited or more terrified. It could really go either way. Dammit, though. I’m really doing this.

  I text: I’ll leave you a beer on the porch, and you can wait there until the coast is clear. The house will be quiet by 7:15 or 7:3
0. I can’t believe I’m actually working out the logistics, as if this is really happening.

  I’ll be waiting, he says.

  Three words, and I feel hot all over.

  Saturday only gets worse. It’s a hot, sticky day, which turns into a sultry evening. At seven o’clock I put two beers in an ice bucket and leave them on my front porch.

  At one minute past seven I have a nervous breakdown.

  Maybe that’s a slight exaggeration. But I feel jittery and wired as I supervise bath time, wrestle the girls into their summer pjs, and then read three picture books. The AC is on full blast, but I feel warm anyway.

  “Night night, sweetie,” I whisper to Amy. “Night, Kate.” I tuck the girls into bed, and they go down easily. It must be all that running around we did at the playground today. And the obstacle course. And the trampoline park. I wasn’t taking any chances.

  Still, I linger outside their door for a while, just to be sure.

  But ten minutes later I’m sure they’re asleep. So now I’m just stalling. I go into my bathroom and brush my teeth vigorously. As if that makes me more appealing. Younger. Less squishy in the midsection.

  Gah. This is too much pressure. I haven’t been naked with a man for the first time in… Wow. I’d need a calculator to count that high. A long time. As I run a brush through my hair, an involuntary shiver of fear snakes down my spine. What if Liam doesn’t really know what he’s in for? He might be picturing the twenty-year-old me. Once he sees the goods up close, he might recoil in horror.

  I sneak a peek in the mirror. Okay. Not bad, is my first reaction. I still have rich, wavy hair and a face that I’ve been protecting with sunscreen for thirty-four years.

  But. There’s a splotch of spaghetti sauce on my top. So I shuck that off and toss it into the hamper. Then I’m confronted with the real trouble—a body that gave birth to twins. I no longer have the tiny waist of my youth. And there are scars on my belly. If I take off my bra, my boobs will show signs of gravitational pull.

  So that’s settled. This bra is staying on no matter what. Not getting my breasts naked. Nope. Nope. Nope. On second thought, maybe all my clothes will stay on.

  Maybe Liam should go home. This is the worst idea I’ve ever had.

  My breathing gets all shallow and shaky as I look for a clean top in my closet. I choose a sleeveless thing that’s not trying too hard. I don’t want to look nervous.

  I’m fucking terrified.

  The best thing to do is to go downstairs, drink a beer with Liam on the porch, and then tell him very sweetly that I’m just not ready. He’s a good guy. He’ll respect that.

  Yeah. That’s the solution.

  I trot down the stairs and open the front door. And there he is, sitting on a wicker chair, the neck of a beer bottle between two of his thick fingers. He looks hotter than an August afternoon in khaki shorts and a polo shirt that’s straining to accommodate his biceps. He looks up at me and winks. “Hello, gorgeous.”

  Oh, my. I get a happy little shiver at the sound of his voice. He is the sexiest being I have ever seen. Which is why we can’t possibly have sex. “Liam,” I begin.

  “Yes, gorgeous?” He stands up, bringing his muscular self even closer.

  “We need to talk.”

  “I’ll bet.” He grabs the ice bucket and steps into my personal space. Then he nudges me back into the house with a smile. “You’re going to give me a little speech about how you’re not ready, right?” He shuts the door behind himself.

  “Um, well…” I let out a nervous giggle. “Something like that.”

  “I see…” He walks past me and into my living room. He sets the ice bucket on the floor beside the coffee table and sits down on the couch. “Here’s the deal. We’re going to talk for five minutes. And if you still feel that way, I’ll leave immediately.”

  “Five minutes,” I repeat slowly.

  “Sure. I’ll set a timer. Come here, okay?” He pats the sofa beside him and then taps his smartwatch a couple of times.

  I knew he’d understand. Liam is going to be a catch for some woman someday. I sit down beside him and let out a breath. I already feel a little calmer.

  And then the room spins. Or, rather, Liam has scooped me off the couch, turned me around as if I weigh no more than Amy’s Piggypoo, and deposited me onto his lap, where I’m now straddling him.

  “So let’s talk,” he says from way too close. I’m staring right into his endless blue eyes, and his kissable mouth is mere inches away. “Tell me what’s the problem?”

  “Well…” I clear my throat. “The problem seems to be…”

  Okay, I don’t remember. Because Liam dips his head until his lips find the sensitive skin just in front of my ear. He nibbles it with his lips. There should be a word for that maneuver. He nipples it.

  And now I’m thinking about nipples. Mine, mostly. My breasts are brushing against his tight body. Liam’s mouth finds my neck. He slowly places a hot, open-mouthed kiss there.

  I grab his big shoulders and gasp. Nobody has kissed my neck in a million years. It feels so good that I whimper.

  Liam chuckles, and the sound brings me back to reality.

  “We’re supposed to be talking,” I slur. But his lips… Gah. I’m turning into a liquid.

  “So talk,” he says in a husky voice. “I’m listening.”

  “I can’t get naked with you.”

  “Okay, fine.”

  Okay, fine?

  I’m trying to process this when Liam’s mouth takes mine in a hungry kiss. It’s a sneak attack, but his lips are so warm and firm that my eager body doesn’t miss a beat. I’m kissing him back like it’s my job. And I tilt my head to make sure we’ve got the best possible connection.

  Then his tongue teases the seam of my lips. When I open for him, he tastes of cold beer and youth and the kind of fun I haven’t had in a long time. Each kiss is a little deeper. And each one ends as another begins. Strong arms pull me closer to his body, and my brain clicks right off. Instead of thoughts, I hear static, like a dysfunctional baby monitor.

  Kissing Liam is the best decision I never really made.

  We go on and on until Liam makes a hungry sound deep in his chest. And that sound does some crazy things to my body. An electrical storm sizzles inside me, the current snapping between my breasts and my clenching legs. My hands begin to roam freely. They slide down the muscles of Liam’s chest, my thumbs grazing the wide, flat nipples I feel beneath the cotton.

  Then two things happen at the same time. Liam groans again, which makes my vagina contract. And his watch beeps.

  Liam breaks our kiss and tilts his head back, resting it on the sofa. I just sit there on his lap, quivering, trying to catch my breath. “What were you saying?” he pants.

  “No idea,” I admit.

  He smiles up at my ceiling. “I’ll go home if you want me to. But I’d rather explore every inch of your body. With my tongue.”

  A shocked little noise escapes from my throat.

  “If you want me to leave, you’ll have to climb off my lap. But if you don’t want me to leave, you can keep rubbing yourself all over me like that.”

  “I’m not…” I look down. “Oh hell I am.”

  “That would be even more fun without your shirt.” Liam’s hands wander up my back, under the cotton. “Couch or bedroom?”

  “Um…” It’s so bright in here. “Bedroom.”

  The second the word leaves my mouth, I’m airborne. Liam stands up suddenly, catching me with one arm under my bottom and one wrapped around my back. He pauses to kiss me. I wrap my legs around his waist and… Holy erection, Batman. Either Liam is really wound up or he’s concealing a beer bottle in his shorts.

  With his lips still tempting mine, he begins to thread his way around the sofa, heading toward the stairs. I have a brief moment of concern that he could trip on any number of toddler toys between the couch and my bedroom. But Liam has youth on his side, and he seems highly motivated. We arrive in my bedro
om less than a minute later.

  Liam deposits me on the bed and then whips off his shirt. “This is the best idea I’ve had in a long time,” he says.

  My mouth goes dry as I gaze up at the perfection that is Liam McAllister in all his shirtless glory. Then the view gets even better when he unzips his shorts and kicks them away. The only thing standing between me and Liam now is a very ambitious erection. It’s poking out of the top of a pair of tight black boxer briefs.

  “Holy mother of God,” I whisper. There’s a nearly naked sex god at the foot of my bed. And he’s grinning at me like I’ve just said something funny.

  “Your turn,” he says.

  I grip my cotton top in two hands and… That’s when it all comes to a crashing halt. I can’t do it. I can’t whip off my clothes like he just did, and bare my belly to Adonis here.

  “Sadie?” he asks gently.

  “There’s too many lights on,” I blurt out. “Hang on a second.” I leap off the bed, yank the curtains closed, and shut off the lights. I also lock the bedroom door. “That’s so much better,” I say, suddenly blind and stumbling toward the bed.

  I stumble into Liam, fall against him. He catches me with an oof sound, and stumbles backwards a step or too. “Have a seat!” I squeak, sounding not at all hysterical.

  “Okay,” he says and I think I hear a smile in his voice.

  What now? Almost-naked Liam is in my bed, waiting for me. It’s pitch dark but I can feel his expectations, and they’re all pointed at me.

  But. Decker is suddenly in my head telling me how my postpartum body resembles a cow’s. He literally said my lactating breasts turned him off.

  I cannot let Liam see me naked, but I still really, really want to have sex with him. Like, bad.

  “Sadie?” he asks.

  I want to climb onto that bed. Hell, I want to climb onto Liam. But my limbic system, that old lizard brain responsible for flight or fight reactions and cortisol and all that good stuff, has kicked into high gear, and I’m just not able to work through it.

  I’m only able to panic. But I do have one idea. “How do you feel about blindfolds?”

  “Um, sounds like fun?” Liam says.