Samuel snickers. “Well, if any two people can understand that, it would be the two of us. So we’re not going to lecture you. What Cheryl just said is the only real problem we have with what you’re doing. We don’t like having to hide either; our partners aren’t crazy about it in their own right. But in order for all four of us to keep our jobs, this is how it has to be.”
“I understand. And I’m sorry it’s like that for you,” Lance says with a sad smile. “I hope someday we can all be who we want to be, need to be, without fear of retribution.”
I smile and nod. “Me too. That would be a wonderful thing, but it’s not here yet.”
“So thanks for talking to me. I guess I should let you go, and my wife’s going to wonder where I am. But thanks again.”
“You’re more than welcome. And don’t hesitate to call on us if we can do anything to help,” Samuel tells him. We watch him mope out of the dressing area, and when he’s out of earshot, Samuel says, “He’s a nice guy. Pity.”
“Yeah. Pity us all.”
“That’s it, baby. Take it down.” I’m wearing a simple strap-on and Megan’s riding me cowgirl style. She’s so beautiful there, her breasts bouncing with every stroke, head thrown back in ecstasy.
“God, this feels so good. Cheryl, tell me that you want me.”
“Oh, angel, I do. You know I do. I want you for forever.”
“Oh, oh, oh god!” she cries out and shudders, falling to the base of the latex cock and grinding her pussy against my mound. “Oh, yeah, babe. Shit, that was good.”
“Yeah?” I grab her hair and pull her face down to mine. “As good as this?” My tongue goes straight into her mouth and, next thing I know, I’m on top of her and pressing my mound into hers. She moans out and pulls my hair. That sends me into a frenzy, and I find myself straddling her face, hands on the headboard, so I can drop my cunt onto her face. She makes a meal of me, the sounds of her licking and sucking almost as wild as the sensations she’s giving me. One of her hands slips up my leg and her fingers find their way into my slit, then slip into my wetness while she tongues me. “Do I taste good?”
“Um-hmmmm,” she groans around my flesh.
“Good. Give it to me, Meg. I mean it. I wanna come until I fall over. Don’t stop even if I tell you to, hear me? Please? Oh, god.” Every muscle in my body is tensing and I want to drop into it and ride it forever, and I know Megan―she’ll make me sorry that I told her not to stop. I can feel it swelling inside me, growing and burning, all the blood rushing to that tiny piece of real estate, and in seconds I’m a writhing mess, screaming and shaking and begging her to stop. True to my request, she won’t. My fingerprints will be permanently embedded in the headboard, but I don’t care. Her tongue works me mercilessly, pulling more excitement out of me, coaxing my body into more spasms, and when she finally does stop, I’m exhausted.
I slip into my Sunday afternoon nap with our arms around each other, gripping each other so tightly that I don’t know how either of us manages to breathe. I don’t want to turn loose or let go; I want this day to go on forever. But it can’t, and I know it.
My eyes eventually flutter open to find Megan staring into them, and she smiles and sweeps the hair back from my forehead. “Cheryl, have you given any more thought to the kid thing?” That question lets me know she’s obviously been dwelling on it.
“Not much. I’ve been too busy trying to think of ways to deflect the she-devil down the street.”
“Yeah. I guess so.” One of her long, perfectly-shaped nails traces around my nipple and I almost howl with longing. “Kiss me, please, and let’s not talk about stuff like that. Let’s just make love and enjoy ourselves.” Our lips no more than touch when she says, “Wait. Be right back.” I watch her lovely, heart-shaped ass as she crosses the room to the dresser, opens the appropriately-naughty drawer, and pulls out my favorite―good old Priscilla.
“Ohhhh, yeah. That’s good. That’s really, really good,” I can’t help but moan as she comes back toward me, strapping it on as she does. “You know how I love that.”
“Yes I do. That’s why I got it out. Knees and forearms, love.” I drop into position and she moves in behind me and between my legs. “You have a lovely ass, my dear,” she purrs.
“And you have a lovely cock, my dear,” I giggle back.
“I’m glad you appreciate it.”
“Oh, I so do.” I hear her flip open a lube bottle. “Are we in need of that today?”
“Yes. I’d think so if I’m going to ply your sweet little back door.”
There’s a sudden gush of wetness from between my legs and my knees feel weak. She never does this. “Um, I didn’t prepare.”
“Don’t worry about it. We can clean up later. It’s fine, baby. It’s all fine.” I feel her hands, satiny and warm, against my skin. “God, your ass is beautiful. It’s so, so beautiful, baby, so beautiful. Use your hands to open yourself and show me.”
I rest my forehead on the mattress, reach back with both hands, and pull open my cheeks. I feel the cool lube drizzling down on my skin, then her finger pressing into my asshole. In a few seconds I feel the pressure of the dildo against my sphincter and I close my eyes and moan.
“Let me in, sweets,” she whispers, and I do my best to relax. In seconds, she’s got it buried inside me. The stroking starts, and I feel things I haven’t felt in a quite some time, things that make me crazy with want for her, that make my nipples harden and my clit swell and my pussy weep. It’s warm and wonderful and fun and exciting and damn, damn erotic all at the same time. “Sometimes I wish I had a real dick so I could fuck you like this all the time, you know?”
“Mmmmm. Yeah. Me too.” She starts to really work me over, and I hear myself crying out, almost like I’m listening from outside myself. When she slows, I cry, “Oh, no! Please, let me come? Please?”
“Not yet. On your back.” Crawling across the bed to me on her knees, she lifts both my knees and slides the end of the dildo into my pussy. When it hits bottom, she cries out, and I know it’s hit her too. “Shit! Oh, god, that’s good!”
The fucking she gives me is beyond awesome. I haven’t felt this full in a long, long time, and I can see from the look in her eyes that she’s overwhelmed too. A feeling like a trailing fuse being lit travels under my skin from my pussy up my stomach to both nipples, and I reach in and begin to pinch and twist them to heighten the sensation. Then I turn loose of one and reach for hers, doing the same to it that I’m doing to my own, and she cries out, “Oh, yeah, Cheryl, oh, god, I need to fuck you.”
“I need you to fuck me too, angel,” I whisper back. “Please, please, just cut loose. Make me scream, Megan, I want to scream with it.”
And I do. There’s nothing held back, and we’re both working up a sweat and crying out by the time she finishes with me. Every muscle in my body is loose and relaxed from the orgasm that burns through me, and I’m sated and happy. She’s my soulmate. She’s my everything. And I’m hers.
Her lips breathe into my mouth, “Cheryl, I want to marry you.”
That’s it. I start to cry. Why can’t we just be who we are? Why can’t we just love who we want to love? Why does everything have to be so complicated? My teary eyes look at her beautiful face there, a slight smile on her lips, and I whisper back, “Oh, baby, I want to marry you too. But how can it ever happen?”
“I guess it’s what you always say.”
A tear rolls down my cheek. “What?”
“Have faith.”
16
Gloria
I’m trying to figure out what to do to make Russell believe me, and so far, I’m coming up empty. He never believes me, so what’s the point?
But you just wait. I’m going to catch them. I don’t know what’s really going on there, but I’ll figure it out, I’m sure. I just have to be in the right place at the right time.
Just another Friday night, and I see the Gholsons’ car pull up over at the Danvers’ house. Well, here we go ag
ain. I’ve been trying to decide what to do, and I got an idea that I think will work.
See, I walked between their house and their neighbor’s yesterday, and there’s a place where the neighbor doesn’t have a window, but the Danvers do. And if I stand in just the right spot, I can see between the window facing and the blind. It’s not a very big sliver of window, but it’s enough. I could see Cheryl moving around in there, so I might be able to see something.
And now that it’s dark enough outside that no one will see me, I know it’s time to begin. Once I’ve had a little tropical fruit vodka and lemon-lime soda to make me a little bolder, I put on my navy blue sweatshirt, my darkest jeans, and a pair of athletic shoes and start out. I’m just meandering along, minding my own business, out for an evening stroll. When I get to the space between the houses, I just slip in there and behind this bush that I found. And I wait.
Sure enough, in about twenty minutes I see someone. Reverend Samuel and the Gholson guy. I have no idea what his first name is; if I was ever told, I’ve forgotten. Anyway, they’re in the bedroom, and I can see them sitting on the bed, talking. Reverend Samuel is on the edge of the bed, and the other guy is sitting cross-legged in the middle of it. Then Reverend Samuel stands up and so does the other guy. And …
They start undressing. Oh my gosh. Are they changing into pajamas? I just keep watching, hoping I’ll get some clue about what’s going to happen. Reverend Samuel takes off everything, and the other guy does too. And they start to kiss. Oh, this is so not what I thought was about to happen, not at all. I mean, I thought it would be something weird, but not this weird. It looks like they’re gay people, and I can hardly believe that. Reverend Samuel turns and sits down on the bed and his, um, thing is, well, and then the other guy gets down on his knees and he … before I even realize what I’ve done I scream out, “OH MY GOD!”
Both of them turn and look at the window. On no―they heard me! What do I do now? I decide running would be too noisy, but I’ve got to get out of there, so I head back to the sidewalk. There’s a big bush out front and I crouch behind it just as the front door opens. I see a beam cut across the front yard, I think from a flashlight, and it moves around a bit.
And then it comes to rest right on me.
“Mrs. Livingston? Mrs. Livingston, is that you?” I hear Reverend Samuel call out.
Great. Now what do I do? He knows it’s me. Think, Gloria, think. How can you save this? So I just pop up and say, “Oh! Reverend Samuel! How are you?”
I can’t really see his face because the flashlight is shining right in my eyes, but he answers, “I’m fine, thanks. What are you doing out there in that bush?”
“Oh, nothing. I thought I heard a cat, that’s all. Here, kitty, kitty. I don’t know where the precious little thing went.”
He doesn’t say anything for a little bit, and then he says, “Mrs. Livingston, it’s dark out here and not really safe for you to be out wandering about. I think you should probably go home where it’s safe. And have a nice evening.”
God have mercy. I’m a nervous wreck. I head back to the house and I try to just mosey along, not get in a hurry, because if I run it’ll seem like I was doing something wrong. And I wasn’t. I was just trying to figure out what’s going on in my own neighborhood.
When I get back, Russell meets me at the door. “What?”
“I got a call from the Danvers. Gloria, what in the hell are you doing?”
Fumbling around, I come up with, “I was just taking a walk, that’s all.”
“In their bush out front?”
“I saw a kitty!” I know he won’t believe that.
“Yeah. Right. What else did you see?” His arms are as crossed as his expression.
“I’ll tell you if you really want to know.” I wait.
Finally he says, “Well?”
“Well, I thought I saw a kitty. It ran down between their house and the next door neighbor’s.” He groans at that. “I couldn’t find the cat, but I saw some kind of movement. And they’d left the blinds where I could see in.” Well, that was sort of true. Didn’t they know there was a crack between the facing and the blinds? You’d think they would. “And I looked up and, well, Reverend Samuel and that man were kissing.” Russell still doesn’t look convinced. “And then Reverend Samuel sat down on the bed, and that other man knelt in front of him, and he, well, um, he―”
“Spit it out, Gloria.”
“I would if I did that to someone. Spit it out, I mean. He was, um, well, you know what that Monica woman did to that president?”
“What? Tried to get fortune and fame by going public with her own sins?”
“No. You know, it’s not sex, but it’s kinda … gross.”
“You mean the Gholson man was giving Reverend Samuel a blow job?”
My eyes and mouth both fly open and I scream, “My gosh, Russell! Do you have to be so graphic?”
“No. If I were being graphic, I would’ve said sucking his cock.”
That’s it for me. I can’t take any more. “Russell Livingston! This conversation is over!”
“I’ll say. No more snooping for you, and you’ll not spread these rumors around, you hear me?”
“But it’s the truth! It really happened!”
I see Russell’s face go dark and now I know I’m in trouble. “You know what, Gloria? Even if it were true, it’s none of your business. You should be ashamed of yourself, spying on people like that!”
“But I wasn’t spying! I was just out for a walk, and there was this cat, and―”
“Oh, cut it the hell out! I don’t want to hear another word about this, you hear me? Not one word. Just leave it alone. And don’t tell anyone what you think you saw. You could ruin two people who’ve never done anything to you. Understand?”
Oh, I understand all right. Cover for the bad guys while the good guys get scolded and called liars. Yeah. I think my husband must be a politician and I don’t know it. I feel like I must live in Washington, D.C.
Life’s just not fair. They do these perverted things, and I’m the one who gets punished. Where the heck is my scotch?
17
Cheryl
“So what do we do now?” Samuel is pacing in the living room.
“What can we do? Anything we do is going to make us look even more guilty. I say we just keep our mouths shut and hope she does the same.” I really have no better suggestion.
“Cheryl’s right,” Daniel chimes in. “Anything you say or do is going to make you look suspicious. Both of you. And us by attrition. So we’re stuck.”
But something runs through my mind. “Maybe not. Maybe there’s some way to fix this. I think I have a plan.”
By the time I explain it all, they all agree that it just might work. And if it does, at least we’ll have the upper hand.
The invocation has gone by, the congregational singing, the choir special, and Mrs. Flannery sang a different version of “There’s Room at the Cross” than I’ve ever heard. Problem is, I don’t think she intended for it to be different.
And now it’s Samuel’s time. He rises and I give his hand a tiny squeeze before he makes his way to the lectern. He grips it with both hands and starts in. “There are five instances in the holy scripture of the latter portion where we are instructed to greet each other with a holy kiss. What does this mean?”
He launches into what has to be the most brilliant sermon he’s ever delivered. Oh, the look on Gloria Livingston’s face as he preaches. It’s priceless. She looks like someone just goosed her with a potato peeler. Samuel goes on about what a holy kiss is, what it was about, who was supposed to kiss whom and how, and everything in between. After twenty minutes of sermon, he announces, “I think we should all greet one another with a holy kiss this morning, shall we?” He heads down the aisle, as do I, and we proceed to lead by example. Other parishioners follow suit, and pretty soon everyone’s doing it―everyone except Mrs. Livingston. She’s standing there looking dazed. Samuel is on h
er side of the aisle, and when he gets to her pew, he starts at the end, hugging people and kissing them on the cheek. And when he gets to her, I have trouble continuing with my greetings because I want to watch and listen. And then I hear it.
“Why, Mrs. Livingston. Please. That was a bit of an inappropriate touch, don’t you think? I hope you’ll refrain from that when you issue another holy kiss, because that was totally uncalled for. I’m a married man!” With that, he backs away and heads back up the aisle toward the platform. I try to appear confused and flustered and follow him hurriedly. When he takes the lectern again, he says, “I do want to say that if you engage in a holy kiss with someone who is inappropriate, you should report them to your ministerial staff immediately and we’ll deal with them.” He’s glaring at her the whole time, and I watch her turn red and shrink. Her poor husband is staring at her like she’s turned into Medusa, and I wonder what’ll happen when she gets home.
And, in truth, I don’t care.
“That was absolutely brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, my friend,” Megan says and pats Samuel on the back. We’re in the car, headed to the restaurant, and we’re all laughing and talking about what just happened.
“Thank you. I do think it was my finest performance!” he laughs back. “I wonder what life is going to be like for her for the rest of the day.”
“I don’t know and I don’t care,” I grin back. “Let’s try to have a good afternoon before you guys go home,” I say and pat Daniel’s arm.
Lunch is excellent, and the drive home is sweet and peaceful. When we get there, everyone starts to scatter for our nap, but I tell them all, “Stop. Let’s talk for a few minutes.” Once we’re all seated, I say, “I have something I want to talk about.” They wait hesitantly until finally I say, “Megan and I would like to get married.”
Cheryl and Samuel at 323 Harper's Cove Page 6
