by Ws Greer
“Wow,” Will says, laughing again before sipping his drink.
“What, you don’t believe me? You think I’m exaggerating? Because I'll show you how terrible it is. Well, I’ll probably have to hail an Uber because I’m pretty drunk, but once I get a ride, I’ll show you how shitty of a place it is. Don’t think I won't, Will with the magnificent beard and sexy cologne.”
Will laughs again. “Wow, okay. Then show me.”
“What?”
“Show me where you work. I’d love to see it, because I don’t think it can really be as bad as you say.”
I frown, pausing for a minute and hoping my brain will talk itself out of this, but all I feel is the alcohol flowing through me, and my inhibitions crashing to the floor.
“What about your girlfriend?” I ask.
“We’re on a break, remember? Haven’t you ever seen Friends?”
I smile like a kid on Christmas, because I fucking love that show.
“All right then,” I say, pulling out my phone to book an Uber. “Let’s go.”
Ten minutes later, Will pays both of our tabs, and the two of us walk out of the restaurant together.
Chapter Twenty-Five
~ Tessa ~
“See?”
Will walks into the clinic behind me, both of us on wobbly legs, and he takes in the sight of my place of employment and annoyance. When I see the room, it’s nothing more than a shapeless box where I’m judged, which is why I compared it to a courtroom. Judy Milton is the authoritative judge and my father and Missy are the onlookers in the Gallery, witnessing it all take place for their amusement, while I'm berated on the witness stand day after day.
While I wallow in the emotions I feel every time I step into this place, Will walks in and looks around. He doesn't look affected by being here at all, like he has no clue how terrible it is to work here for my mother. He shrugs before turning and smirking at me.
“What?” I ask, feeling annoyed.
“I don't see what's so bad about it, and I don’t think I smell any dog shit,” Will answers.
“Ugh, I should've known not to trust a stranger,” I reply as I lean over the counter and lay my face on it. The cold countertop feels good on my hot skin. “It’s a terrible place… wait. What's your name again?”
The room is silent for a beat before he speaks again.
“Wow, really?” he replies, just as his name snaps back into my mind.
“Will!” I bellow, popping my head off the counter. “I was just kidding. Of course I knew that.”
“Yeah, right. Anyway, Tessa—I didn't forget your name—if you see this place as being so horrible, maybe you should really consider working somewhere else. I know you don't want to hear that, but when I walked in here, it didn't feel like a shitty courtroom, or whatever you called it. So, maybe it’s just the way to you.”
“Oh, god. What, are you trying to be my therapist now? I already have one of those.”
“No, I’m not trying to be your therapist. I don't even know you,” Will replies, frowning. “I’m just saying you should leave a place if all you can associate it with is unhappiness. At the end of the day, you're going to do whatever you want. I just hope that whatever you choose makes you happy, because I get the feeling that maybe you're not.”
Combining whiskey sours with the words of a complete stranger has filled me with a rare combination of emotions. I’m sad, stressed out, and annoyed all at the same time. Will is right, Missy is right, and even Scott was right. Working here with my judgmental mother wreaks havoc on my state of mind. She destroys my confidence with her every word, which I’m starting to think is her main objective. I don't even know why I’m still listening to her at this point. I guess I’m just used to it, and I’ve been doing it my entire life. Some forms of brainwashing are nearly impossible to break away from.
I let out a cheerless sigh, which is followed by tears filling my eyes and sliding down my face. I know this is being spurred by the alcohol, but the tears that fall are real, nonetheless.
“Oh, wow,” Will stammers. “Hey, I wasn't trying to be mean or anything. I’m sorry. Please don't cry.”
I take a deep breath, trying to gain control of my rampant emotions. I’ve been down this road too many times. I have to fight it, even if the liquor is giving my mother's influences newfound strength.
By the time I’ve pulled myself together, Will is next to me, wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I feel a strong urge to lean over and cry into his chest, but I resist. Instead, I look up and see Will’s brown eyes looking down at me. Through all the bullshit, I’d forgotten how gorgeous he is. When I went to sit next to him, it certainly wasn't because I was looking for a shoulder to cry on. Now that he's close to me, I remember what I wanted when I first laid eyes on him.
“You okay?” Will asks, staring down at me.
“Umm, yeah,” I say. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
We look at each other, both of us stuck in a trance. Thoughts of what it’d be like to fuck Will flow through my mind like a dam has broken within me, and when I lift myself to my tippy toes to kiss him, I have no desire to restrain myself. For a moment, I think Will is going to push me away, but when I feel his tongue slide into my mouth and the strength of his hands pulling me closer, I know he wants it, too.
Our kisses are fueled by a strong combination of alcohol and lust. It doesn't matter that we’re in the dark lobby of the clinic, or that Will is only on a break from his girlfriend. We move like we can't get our clothes off fast enough. Both of us know exactly what we’re after, and we act accordingly.
My hands find Will’s belt buckle and clamor to get it undone, while he leans forward and kisses my neck, letting his hands fondle my breasts. Both of us breathe hard like this is the end instead of the beginning, and when my hands finally find his cock, my eyes bulge.
Every experience I’ve had since Brandon dumped me has been a bad one, but Will is off to a great start, because his cock is as thick as a cucumber. I stroke it with my hands while Will moans into my neck.
In nearly an instant, I can feel how wet I am. I’m actually shocked by it. Will’s murky relationship status, the fact that he's a complete stranger, and being in the clinic are all reasons that this is “wrong,” but they're also the reasons I want it so bad. And I do want it. I want it so fucking bad.
“Condom?” I ask, still stroking his cock and praying he says yes.
Will doesn't answer with words. He simply reaches into his pocket and removes the red latex wrapped in see-through plastic. When I see it, my first thought is that it actually might not fit over his thickness, but my second thought is that he needs to slip it on right this second and fuck me until I forget how annoyed I am with life.
Instead of letting Will fumble with my pants, I reach down and unfasten them myself, while Will pulls his pants off and slips the condom over his shaft. Just watching him makes me even wetter, and once my pants are off, I don't want there to be another second before he’s inside of me. It’s like I need it, and my body takes over. I turn around, lift my blouse over my hips, and place my elbows on the counter. Will doesn't wait either, immediately slipping himself inside my dripping pussy.
My breath catches in my throat when I feel how thick his cock is. It’s slightly painful for the first half a second, then it morphs into the most intense pleasure I’ve felt in a long time. Poor Eric was like a limp noodle compared to Will, and when he starts pounding into me, there's no question about whether or not he’s in me. I feel every inch of it, and moans climb out of my throat, demanding to be heard.
Will fucks me the way every husband should fuck his wife—like she's a complete stranger and he’s fueled by lust and a desire to be impressive. His strong hands grip my hips, and he pounds into me. I hear our skin smacking together and echoing off the walls of the empty and dark clinic. It’s so intense, I put my head down and squeeze my eyes shut, enjoying every moment.
This is what I’ve been hoping for the entire time.
From the moment I decided to go against my mother’s wishes and do whatever I want, I’ve been waiting to be fucked like this. I wanted to be fucked, not made love to, and I wanted it to feel better than good. I wanted it to be intense and raw, painfully full of pleasure so satisfying that it lasts for days. From the way Will is fucking me, I know I’ll be sore tomorrow and probably the next day, and I’m totally fine with that. I realize here and now that this is what I’ve been missing from my life. Lust.
Brandon was never capable of this. He was always trying to be gentle, which is fine some times, but I could tell he did it that way because he didn't have it in him to fuck me like this. He’d come too fast just from trying. Brandon couldn't love me while still lusting after me.
Not only did he not lust after me, I didn't lust after him either. I didn't fantasize about Brandon’s cock inside me, making me wetter and wetter with his every stroke. I didn't crave having his cock in my mouth or to have his tongue slithering over my pussy. I realize now just how important that is.
Lust is hot. It’s powerful enough to overtake a person to the point that they cheat if there isn't enough of it in their relationship. It’s seductive and nearly impossible to resist, and since this is the first time I’m feeling it in its entirety, I realize just how potent it is. Now that I have a taste for it, I can feel my addiction for it growing with Will’s every thrust. This is what I’ve been missing. Pure, unadulterated, uninhibited lust. If I ever find myself in a relationship again, this will be a requirement. I have to know he feels it for me, and I must feel it for him.
Neither of us says anything while it’s happening. Will’s cock continues to pound into me, and all I hear is the sound of our breathing. It feels incredible, and I suddenly feel a strong desire to come. I’ve been making myself come plenty, but I want something stronger than that. I need it to happen so I can know just how intense an orgasm is supposed to feel.
My craving for it sends my hand between my legs, where my fingers find my clit and begin to rub. All that masturbation has paid off, as I know exactly how to rub it on my own, so the added sensation of Will’s dick thrusting into me is more than I can handle and certainly more than I’m used to. I rub hard circles over my clit while Will works from behind me, and I instantly feel hot prickles reverberating throughout my body as the orgasm draws nearer.
“Oh shit,” Will exclaims. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come. Fuck.”
Will releases a guttural growl into the air, and the sound of him coming gives me the final push I need. I’m slammed by an intense orgasm that grips my entire body like a vice. I squeeze my eyes shut so hard I see stars behind them as Will and I fill the clinic with our blissful screams.
When it’s over, the only sound left is our heavy breathing. We pant like we’re in competition with each other, and I smile when Will pulls himself out of me to remove the condom.
That was amazing, and for the first time in far too long, I feel satisfied. All the stress of Brandon, Eric, and Scott has been washed away, and although my legs feel weak and wobbly, I’m stress free. I feel as light as a feather and ready to tell Missy what I know she's dying to hear.
Everything is perfect, until I hear keys clattering outside.
Will and I snap our heads towards the glass door, and everything good I felt is erased by the sight of my mother pushing through the door and flicking on the light switch. The darkness is overtaken by the light, and Scott and I are both literally caught with our pants down.
When she sees us, my mother freezes at the door, her eyes bulging. “What the fuck is going on in here?”
Chapter Twenty-Six
~ Tessa ~
I’ve never seen fury on my mother’s face the way I see it now. She stands there silently, wearing black and white pajamas covered by a red robe hanging loosely over her frail body. Her hair is tied back, and her face is twisted into a scowl that sends a cold chill down my spine. She is absolutely livid.
Will and I immediately start to scramble for our clothes, both of us leaning forward to pull our pants up from around our ankles. Before Will can even fasten his pants, he starts to scurry towards the door, shuffling his feet. I can see the embarrassment smeared across his face like egg yolk he can't get off. While Will scrambles towards the door, my mother doesn't take her eyes off me.
As Will scoots his way past my mother, she doesn't glance at him once, and I finish buttoning my pants just in time to hear the door close behind Will. Through the glass I see him speed-walking back to his car, trying to button his pants as he scampers away. He’s gone without a word, out of my life for good. Now, there's only Judy and me.
“Tessa Louise Milton, what the hell has gotten into you?” my mother begins, throwing in my middle name for good measure. Her feet are firmly planted in front of the door, and it looks like she’d try to tackle me if I attempted to leave.
I swallow hard, focusing on standing my ground, but I struggle to stay upright against the pull of my mother’s influence. “Nothing,” is the only answer I’m able to come up with, which sets my mother off.
“Nothing? Nothing?” she barks, taking two steps towards me before stopping and pointing her finger. “You are so unbelievably disrespectful, Tessa. How dare you bring a man into our place of business and have sex in the lobby! I stand here every single day. I put my hands on that countertop. You’ve defiled our place of business with… who the hell was that?”
I let out a breath so I can speak coherently. I’ve been going to therapy, talking to Dr. Colson to prepare for this moment. I can't back down now, but the room feels like it has extra gravity in it and I’m being weighed down. I feel heavier and slower.
“That was Will. I met him at the bar earlier tonight,” I say, and just hearing it out loud makes it sound bad.
“You met him tonight, and you already slept with him, Tessa?” My mother asks, and I can hear the disgust wrapped around her every word. “What has gotten into you? Ever since Brandon left, you seem to have lost your way. First, you make jokes about sleeping with our customers the other day, and now you bring a stranger to your job to have sex in the lobby? Explain yourself, Tessa, because I’m appalled.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumble, putting my head down.
“Sorry? Sorry won't cut it, young lady! You owe me an explanation. You made a decision, now live with it. Take responsibility for your actions.”
As she talks, I feel heat creeping up my throat from my belly. I’ve been taking this shit for so long, I’ve gotten used to just putting my head down and waiting for it to end. Today, however, has to be different.
“What if he would’ve raped you?” my mother goes on, fueled by my silence. “You wouldn’t have been able to stop it, would you? You know what that means? It would’ve been your fault, Tessa. When you act that way, giving men the impression that you're easy, it makes them think they can do whatever they want with you, and it's your fault for giving them that impression. I taught you better than that. Now, lift your head up and tell me what the hell has gotten into you, because your father is going to be livid when I tell him. Answer me, Tessa!”
The heat from my stomach builds up until it feels like I have heartburn from holding it in so long. I can't take another second of this shit or my head will explode, and before I can even think on it any further, the words just come out.
“Fuck you.”
My mother gasps.
“Excuse me?” she says, and I can tell from her tone that she expects me to backtrack. Both of us are used to me giving in. But I’ve officially had enough.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, or anybody else, Mom,” I snip. “I’m a grown woman, and I can do what I want with who I want. This is my life, not yours.”
My mother’s eyes bulge to twice their size, and I watch her glance around the room like she’s wondering if it’s real or not.
“Tessa,” she starts to say, but I cut her off.
“No, don’t say another word. All you do is put me down. You sit there atop yo
ur goddamn high horse, judging every single move I make, constantly telling me how no one will want me. You go out of your way every single day to make sure my confidence is in the dumps. You live in this outdated fantasy land, where a woman isn't allowed to be a woman unless a man says it’s okay.”
“I do no such thing!”
“Bullshit!” I bark. “You just told me that if a man raped me, it would be my fault. Who the fuck would say that to their daughter?”
“I’m just trying to protect you, Tessa.”
“Protect me by blaming me for my own hypothetical rape? What a load of shit. If a man rapes me, the only person who deserves blame is the fucking pig of a man who committed the crime. It doesn't matter how I made him feel, or what I’m wearing, or how many men I’ve slept with in the past. If I don’t give consent, or even if I take it away after I’ve already given it, a man is not allowed to touch me. Consent is my choice, and mine only. That also means I can give consent to whoever I want, including a man I just met at the bar tonight. It’s my body, and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. If you can't take that, I suggest you don’t even ask me about what I have going on in the relationship department. Either that, or just don't talk to me at all, which would be fine by me after everything you’ve put me through. Maybe I’m wrong for getting drunk and having sex in the clinic, but the choice to have sex is mine to make, so fuck you, and fuck your judgment. I don’t want to hear anymore shit about my goddamn hair, or the clothes I wear, or fucking Brandon. I refuse to live my life by your patriarchal rules.”
My mother stands in front of the door with her mouth agape. The sight of it makes me want to smile, but I’m too mad to force a smirk onto my face. Finally being able to speak my truth to her is the most uplifting thing I’ve ever done. I could have another orgasm just from the satisfaction I feel right now.
“You're right,” my mother mutters, her tone suddenly changing to something much more solemn. “I’ve forced my beliefs on you, and I shouldn’t have. I just didn't know it affected you this way. We’re different people, and I can't expect you to see things the way I do. But, at the end of the day, Tessa, you have to have some semblance of self respect. How are you okay with sleeping with random men you just met?”
