by Pratt, Lulu
I shook my head, and launched into a speech that had been bubbling up in the back of my mind the entire car ride, a song of my heart that I needed to sing.
“Cash,” I began. “I know we haven’t known each other for long, that on paper, this is a terrible idea. But I also know that when I look at you, every part of me wants to be with every part of you. And that we’re different, so different, sure, but our differences make us stronger, not weaker. And I know that I fucking love you.”
He interrupted, stammering, “Cybil, I… I feel the same way, but, listen, the tattoo shop is failing. My family needs the money.” He stopped, then whispered, “I don’t want to do this either, but it’s what’s right.”
I shook my head, not allowing this argument. “I already talked with your parents.” I rocked back on my heels, preparing for a fight.
“You did what?” he blustered.
“Yeah. I don’t play around, not with something like love. I covered my bases. And they explained all about the shop, and why you think you’re doing this, and I’m telling you it’s not right. They just wanna spend time with you. They could give a damn about the shop. That’s your dream. Their dream is seeing their son get home safe every night.”
“But—”
“No buts, I’ve got full clearance from them on this message. You have to come back to your family, Cash. Your real family.” I paused. “And me. You need to come back to me, so we can figure out what this thing is between us, because I think — no, I know — it’s the real, honest-to-God deal. And so few people get that, it would be, it’d be an outright crime not to at least give us a try.”
He swallowed. “Cybil, please, don’t make me say this again, it hurts more every time. I love you, but I have a responsibility. I need to be the breadwinner. My parents don’t always know what’s best for them. Please, just let me take care of this my own way. I wanted to let you go peacefully. I see that I didn’t do it well enough.”
I wanted to slap him — and, yes, still fuck him. And then, somewhere between my rage, my horniness and my love, thinking about our first time having sex together, I found an idea.
“What if,” I began slowly, “what if you could find a way to make the shop profitable again?”
He snorted. “Fat chance. We’ve already tried everything.”
I shook my head. “No, you haven’t.”
Cash rubbed his head, a familiar gesture by now. “I mean, by all means, pitch me, but don’t get your hopes up.”
Good enough. “What if,” I said, “you turned that back room into a… a performance space? It’ll give you more foot traffic for tattoos, and bring in some extra revenue from upfront space reservation money. Not much, maybe, but enough. And you could serve a little booze in the back, like it’s Prohibition, since I know you don’t really care about the, uh, law.”
He looked surprised, but quickly found a counter argument.
“I don’t even know a show that would want to go up in there,” he said. “It’s tiny, nice, I guess, but still a little bit of a dump. It wouldn’t work.”
I was ready for this debate. “My friend Blaire puts up a weekly comedy show in the worst bar in town. I’m pretty sure I could convince her to do it at Bills for at least one night, like as a test run.”
Cash went silent, and my heart beat loudly while I waited for his face to resolve into some kind of sign.
Slowly, he murmured, “You’d do all this, just for me?”
I nodded vigorously. “I’d do more, Cash.”
His piercing eyes met mine. Our lips were now a hair’s breadth away. Without warning, he said those magic words.
“Fuck the military. I want to be with you, Cybil. You’re willing to do all this, just to try to make this thing between us work… I’d be an idiot to let you get away. I’d spend the rest of my life wondering what happened. And I don’t want to do that. My family doesn’t want me to do that. I think, with your faith in me on my side, I can make anything happen, even pulling the shop out of debt.”
I breathed deeply. I was getting my fairy tale.
“So what now?” I asked.
“Well, first, this.”
He scooped me up into his arms, pulling me in close for a long, deep kiss. Our breaths moved in sync as his perfect mouth, for once not grinning, gripped mine, clinging as if for dear life. We broke apart moments later, remembering we were technically in public.
“I just have one thing to take care of,” he said. With that, Cash let me go. The absence instantly ached, and he took my hand, escorting me out of the room, then out of the building, where a man loitered nearby.
Cash signaled the man over. Once in front of us, the guy’s eyes fell onto Cash and me clutching hands.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
Cash grinned. “Everything’s perfect. I’m not coming back to the military. Good luck. Pass my regards on to the General.”
The man stammered, “W-wait—” but we were running together, Cash pulling me along, before he could finish the sentence. The wind raced past my face, curling through his hair and within minutes, we’d arrived at his car. He took a set of keys out from under a nearby wheel well.
Off my quizzical expression, he explained, “I plan for emergencies.”
“What’s the emergency?”
His smile widened. “I need to get the hell off this base. Oh, and make love to you.”
I laughed, “You’re right. That is a damn emergency.”
Moments later, we were in his car, tearing out of the base, pausing only for a moment so Cash could tell the base guard to ship his duffel home. He turned to me and added, “But if it doesn’t come, I don’t care. I’ve already got everything I need.”
He drove through the gates and up one hill, then another, until we were at the very top of a mountain, our hands interlinked and our faces glowing with young love.
He parked, and the sun beat down overhead, illuminating us.
“Do you love me?” I asked, needing to hear it one more time.
“More than life itself.”
My heart raced as I, the new Cybil, lunged across the middle console to kiss Cash square on the lips. He tugged me closer and closer, his hands around my head and his body calling out to mine. Suddenly, I was in the driver’s seat with him, straddling his sturdy legs, my lips trailing his neck and my breast heaving with desire.
“I love you,” I repeated into his ear. “And I’m going to tell you that every day, okay?”
He laughed. “Only if I can tell you too.”
“You’ve got yourself a contract.”
My hands pressed against his hard chest, where I felt his heart fluttering in time with my own. Cash growled and ripped off my shirt before fumbling in back with my bra.
“Fuck the bra!” I cried out, laughing. “And fuck me!”
He chortled through heavy breaths as he strained against his own arousal. My fingers found his zipper and undid the pants in moments, moving with, ironically, military precision, even as anxiety threatened to render them useless. I needed Cash to finally feel my pussy wrap around his dick, curling and uncurling with abandon and heat.
I ripped his underwear off and laid eyes on his perfect dick. The wetness between my legs grew as my body prepared itself for his long, thick cock.
“How are we gonna get your pants off?” he asked, his grin not moving for a second.
“Like this,” I said, and contorted into a crazy yoga pose to maneuver the pants off my body. I threw them into the back seat, leaving my bare private parts exposed right atop Cash’s dick.
“Are you ready?” he whispered, his teeth nipping at my neck.
“Baby, you know I am.”
Cash grabbed a condom from the glove compartment, rolled it on and grab me by the ass cheek and lifted me up until the edge of my pussy touched his tip. He hovered me there, tempting me with the prospect of his cock, but I was having none of it. I needed him, now. No time for idle teasing.
I thrust myself
down onto him and he groaned with pleasure.
“Ride me,” he pleaded.
I didn’t need to be told twice. My thighs locked around his, and I began to buck up and down, up and down, feeling him shiver inside me, feeling the way his tip curved to hit my g-spot. Pleasure was too simple a world. This was ecstasy.
The sun played across his cheekbones as his face tightened with delight. I rode him harder, loving his expression, knowing it mirrored my own. My breasts bounced up and down between us, and he gripped them fervently, a worshipful grasp. This was a fuck between two people who saw each other for exactly what they were, and loved everything in their view.
I could feel the wave beginning to build. Cash looked me in the eyes, and I knew it was rumbling in his chest as well. I flung an arm around his neck, pulling his face down to my tits as his arms came to press the small of my back in closer. We couldn’t have held each other any more tightly without collapsing into a single person.
“Come,” he said, more of a request than a demand. “I love watching you come.”
“Okay,” I breathed. “Okay.”
I bounced harder on his dick, frantic, desperate, pleading until suddenly, I felt his tip hit my g-spot in just the right place, just one more time, and I burst open, a hothead flower in bloom for him and him alone.
My orgasm came hot and fast. Every muscle in my body relaxed as I let desire control me, run my mind, my pussy clenching as I rode out the lasting sense of freedom. From a distant plane, I saw Cash’s delight at my own, and within moments, he too was reaching completion, shooting hot loads as he cried out my name.
“Cybil… Cybil… Cybil…” his every word encapsulating more than love than I’d ever known.
We were empty, and yet so full. We held one another tight, our half-naked bodies draped around one another, struggling to catch our breaths in between laughing. It was perfect. We were people, and people aren’t perfect — but together, as one larger, greater being? I’m telling you — perfect. The look in his deep eyes told me he felt the same.
Epilogue
Cybil
OKAY, SO even after we left the base, totally blissed out, it’d taken some convincing to get Cash to agree to the comedy show and Blaire wasn’t sold on the idea either. But I had to go out on a limb and try something, you know? Of course, they both fully came around to it in the end, thanks to my great and storied ability to be a pest when necessary.
That’s how, on a Saturday night approximately three weeks after my great heist of valuable military personnel as I now like to think of it, Cash’s parents, Cash and I had come to be hanging thousands of fairy lights across the backroom space, while Cash and I snuck kisses in between various tasks. Hang a light, get a kiss. Store the beer, get a kiss. Do… anything at all really, get a kiss. The only thing more shocking than our intrepid kissing was his parents’ total disregard for it. Or, rather, they seemed so delighted by his happiness that they were willing to overlook the constant smooches. It felt like I’d been instantly welcome into the family.
Cash had told me that his night terrors had lessened since the start of our relationship. We felt that the stresses in his life were smaller now that he had more support than just his parents. I also thought that the yoga we were doing together was helping, but he wasn’t quite willing to admit it just yet.
I’d spent the last three weeks almost exclusively with Cash, in that young love, honeymoon phase. But ‘phase’ doesn’t seem appropriate. This love could last a lifetime. Would last a lifetime. I was almost anxious for the honeymoon to be over so that we could settle down together and then have an actual honeymoon. Shit, did I just say that? Ugh, I know girls aren’t supposed to be thinking about marriage, that it makes us look desperate or whatever, but — sue me! I wanted to be with Cash, forever and always.
I was in the middle of moving some chairs when his arms wrapped around me from behind, interrupting my revealing thoughts, and I could tell from just how tightly he squeezed that he was nervous.
“What’s up?” I asked, my hand resting on his forearm, stroking the light hairs.
“Nothing,” he mumbled into my shoulder.
I turned to look at him in the eye, my brows arching with a question. He sighed, knowing that my inquisitive gaze would eventually tug answers out of him whether he liked it or not, and that it was generally easier for all parties involved if he just spilled it now.
With a groan, he admitted, “Okay, so I’m nervous!”
“You have nothing to be nervous about,” I reassured him as I stroked his cheek. “The place looks amazing.”
And it did. We’d covered the entire room in lights, brought in a mountain of throw pillows, and turned on one of his record players. Between all that and the beer that was stored away in a secret, built-in cupboard Cash had built by hand — yes, I’m bragging. It gave off an awesome vibe of somewhere in between your best friend’s house and a speakeasy. Blaire would love it, I felt confident.
“I know it looks good,” he agreed, “but is it perfect? Cybil, everything’s riding on this. If we get this show, then we can get clients, maybe other shows, and—”
I nodded, having heard this line of nervous, chatty dialogue before. “Yeah, and it’s gonna go great. You can worry all you want, but I’m telling you, there’s nothing to worry about.”
His hands curled around my back, briefly squeezing my butt. Although not too long, as his parents had only stepped out for a moment to grab more beer.
Cash leaned to my ear and whispered, “Now what would I do without you?”
I grinned. “Join the military.”
That got him. He doubled over with laughter, and it took him a full several minutes before he was able to stand up again, wiping the tears from his eyes.
“You’re funny,” he said at last.
“Thanks,” I replied wryly. “Not bad yourself.”
“Okay, you kids,” a voice said.
I looked across the room and saw that Cash’s parents had re-entered. We quickly disentangled ourselves, which caused his mom to roll her eyes.
“Oh please, don’t stop on my account,” she snorted. “I like young love as much as the next person.”
I took Cash’s hand in mine, glad for her blessing, but he still blushed. It always amazed me how he could be so tough but so caring, so sensitive to his parents’ needs.
“Anyhow,” she continued, a twinkle in her eye, “isn’t your friend due any minute to go over everything? Y’all ready?”
And we were. Blaire arrived first. We’d patched things over since our fallout at her comedy show. I’d explained what had been going on, and after promising I’d never keep something so big from her again, Blaire forgave me. We hugged quickly before I led her into the back room, which she’d never seen before.
“Now this,” she said, inhaling, “is where you host a damn comedy show.”
She moved away to go check on some mics and I ran to Cash to whisper, “She loves it.”
His eyes lit up, and I knew in my heart of hearts that this harebrained scheme was going to work.
Slowly but surely, the regulars began to trickle in. Blaire tried to play it cool by lounging around on one of the couches, in lieu of her usual lounging by a standing table, but Cash, his parents and I greeted every person who walked in, many of whom recognized me, some whom didn’t. Apparently, the proposition of a new venue had attracted along with it new comedy-goers, people who might not have done well in the previous dump, but who looked quite at home in our swanky new set-up.
Sheila and Morgan arrived with their husbands and accompanying squeals. They were perhaps most emblematic of the group that seemed to fit in better here. It was just more… Instagramable. They fawned and fussed over Cash and me for what ages.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Morgan pressed.
“Tell you what?” I replied, glancing sidelong at Cash, who had a bemused, knowing expression on his face.
Sheila leaned in to hiss, “That he’s so fucking
cute!”
We all laughed and Cash pulled me closer as I thought that, for the first time, I wasn’t the odd one out. Everybody, me finally included, had their significant others here to see the show. Maybe now I could focus less on throwing myself a pity party, and more on supporting my friend.
Spoiler alert: the show was a huge success.
Every comedian was on their A-game, perhaps because the new venue felt less aggressive, and more supportive — almost like a yoga studio, I thought to myself. Usually there’s at least one dud, but no, everyone performed above and beyond the call of duty. People cheered and passed drinks and generally had a good damn time. Cash was by my side for every minute of it, gripping my waist, gradually finding his confidence as the night ran on and it was clear that things were going well.
The last comedian performed at two in the morning. For the first time I could remember, not one audience member got up and left before then. They were all too damn cozy. And even at two, they were slow to leave, with many of them heading to the front of the store where Cash’s parents sat to sign up for tattoo appointments and consultations. One person had even asked if the venue was available for rentals as he felt the spot was perfect for a writers workshop.
As the people milled around and chatted, Cash murmured, so low only I could hear it, “You did this. You saved me, and you saved my family.”
I looked to him and beamed, my face a mask of love.
“You chose to stay,” I told him. “That’s half the battle.”
He opened his mouth, about to say something more, when Blaire and her fiancé crossed the room and interrupted us.
“Hey,” Blaire began.
Cash and I leaned in, anxious to hear her proclamation.
After a long moment, she finished, “It’s perfect.” I squeezed Cash’s hand tighter as she continued, “Cash, if you’ll have us, we’d like to move the show here permanently.”
I didn’t have to look at his face to know there was an enormous, relieved grin.
“I think we can arrange that,” he said mildly.
