Getting Her Back

by Wylder, Penny

  The way he’s pressed up against me, it’s hard to argue with. “We’re supposed to keep some distance,” I say. “This isn’t part of the deal.”

  “So?” he smirks. “Audrey, we’re not dating. We’re fucking. I want you, and there’s no downside to this.”

  He runs his hand up my side and I shudder. “We can’t,” I say. “Not here.”

  “There’s nobody left, why not?”

  Teeth on my skin as he pushes my top off my shoulder. “There are people downstairs. The gallery—God…” The way he licks across my collarbone renders me speechless.

  “We can go to the apartment if you like,” he says, “and I can take my time with you. But I want you here. Now. And to sweeten the deal, you know that twice the sex means twice the chance you get pregnant. Though I’d be willing just to do it for fun.”

  Those words startle my eyes open. I’ve barely thought about that. This whole class and the way he pulled me in here, pregnancy has only just now passed through my thoughts. It’s been mostly him. What does that mean? He releases the top button on my shirt, mouth dipping down to my breasts, and I lose all the thoughts in my brain. “Christian,” I say, but I don’t know where I’m going with it. All I know is that I want more. “We shouldn’t.”

  “Then tell me to stop.”

  I sigh, relaxing into his arms, and reaching up to undo the rest of the buttons myself. Christian practically growls, catching up with me and undoing my belt, shoving my pants off my hips. I catch a glimpse of him, fully hard now. We don’t bother with the rest of my clothes, and Christian picks me up, pressing me against the door. I reach between us, fitting him against me and he slides in. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, moaning.

  Every bit of arousal I’d been pushing down during the class floods through me, and suddenly I’m so wet I’m dripping. Christian thrusts, hard and fast, fingers digging into my hips as he holds me against the door. We’re pressed so close, every movement of his hips grinds against my clit. So fast—I’m close, so quickly, it makes my head spin. I squeeze down on him and Christian groans, moving faster. The door behind us might as well be a headboard the way we’re making it bounce, and I don’t fucking care. Everyone in the gallery could be waiting outside the door and I wouldn’t care, I don’t want him to stop.

  I’m panting now, pleasure building to that moment where I hang on the edge and everything is perfect before the storm. It’s swirling in my gut and through my core and oh—

  I let go, break open, and I’m holding my breath so that I don’t scream. Christian’s there too, and he makes a low sound as he comes, heat filling me up and making me come again. This closet is dim but it’s brilliant behind my eyes. All I can see is light, all I can feel is light, and it burns for another fierce moment before abandoning me.

  I lean my head back against the door as we both come to stillness. Christian is still stiff inside me, and he doesn’t move. Holding himself in place so every bit of his sperm has time to sink into me. “That was nice,” I say.

  Christian chuckles. “I think we both know it was more than nice.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “You’re very impressed with yourself.”

  That smirk is back. “I made you come in less than five minutes with no foreplay. I’m very impressive.”

  “Asshole,” I say, and he laughs. “I do want to know though, if you were this horny how you kept from getting hard the whole class. You were worried.”

  “I kept counting backwards from 100. Over and over. For three hours.”

  I start laughing as he pulls out of me and sets me down. “And here I thought you were staring at me like that because you wanted me.”

  “Oh, I was,” he says, pulling on his pants. “Believe me. But it was also a little concentration.”

  We both get ourselves together and I wince as we open the door, expecting someone from the staff to tell us we’re banned from ever coming back. But there’s no one, and it makes me wonder how often stuff like this happens and goes unnoticed. Does that mean I should do it a little more? More of Christian’s little adventures.

  “Still hungry?” he asks as we leave.

  “Hell yeah.”

  13

  The next morning Ellen and I get breakfast before work. We used to do it every Tuesday, but less now since both of us have been so busy. Usually our brunches consist of Ellen spilling the details of her latest escapade—today included. Ellen likes to have her fun on weeknights because she feels like there’s less pressure. Both people have to get to work in the morning, so there’s no question of whether or not you’re going to spend your days off together or perhaps have a second night stand.

  “So,” Ellen says, shoveling a piece of omelet into her mouth, “we finish, and we both finished so everything was fine. Like, not great, but fine, right? But he’s giving me all those signs, like he wants to go again and go all night type of thing. And that wasn’t going to happen. I swear, Audrey, I think he almost cried.”

  I laugh. “Really?”

  “Literal, actual tears. I mean, I know I’m amazing, but this is the first time that my vagina has reduced a man to weeping.”

  “I can’t say that mine has done that.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re better off. It’s very disconcerting.”

  I raise my glass of coffee in cheers. “I actually have a story of my own.”

  “Oh?” Ellen freezes. “Audrey Robinson has a tale of debauchery to share? Please do.”

  “As debaucherous as you can be when you’re trying to get pregnant with the same man.” I fill her in on how I volunteered Christian to be the class’s nude model, and the little quickie we had in the closet.

  “Holy shit, girl. Way to go.”

  I clear my throat. “So we went to dinner, and basically gorged ourselves on pasta. And we talked a lot. Even though we didn’t talk about anything we actually need to talk about. It was…nice. It reminded me of when we were first getting to know each other.”

  “Is that good or bad?”

  “I’m not sure?” I say. I have so many things I need to ask him. Why he did what he did, and even more, why he never talked to me again. Never even tried. I think that might have hurt more than his words in the bar. Was I really not worth even reaching out to? But now, that hurt is contrasted by his kindness and all the pleasure. I’m definitely confused. “I never thought I would enjoy being around him again. Frankly, apart from the good sex, I thought this whole thing was going to be a nightmare. Basically, I said yes to prove to him that I could.”

  Ellen thinks for a second. “Well, I’m glad that it’s going better than you thought it would. But where does that leave you with him?”

  “I have more,” I say. “After the restaurant, we did end up going back to the place on the Upper West Side. It felt…perfect and natural. We had sex two more times.”

  “You’re fucking joking.” Ellen’s eyebrows rise into her hairline.

  “I’m not.”

  She starts to laugh, loud enough that the people around us in the immediate vicinity start to look. “Well damn.”

  I’m pleasantly sore after last night, and three chances for him to get me pregnant raises the chances by…some. I’m not ovulating, so it’s not likely, but there’s always a tiny chance. And I also had…fun. I liked that I was with Christian, and it was like going back in time to where everything was perfect between us. And it was easy for us both to ignore the reality staring us in the face, the chasm of unsaid things between us that we need to talk about. But why would we do that when we can ignore it in favor of pleasure and easy conversation?

  “I know, I have to talk to him about it,” I say. “But it’s nice to have a break.”

  “And you deserve that. It’s okay not to be broken up and a living tragedy all the time.”

  “I’m not a living tragedy.”

  Ellen laughs. “Of course you’re not. And that’s good. I just don’t want you getting in so deep that you can’t get back out again without goin
g through the same thing.”

  “I can’t say I haven’t thought about that.”

  “But have you?” she asks. “It may feel like it right now, but you’re not actually having a baby with him. Eventually you’re going to test positive and he’s going to disappear. You know I love you, and I’ve got your back. Just remember what you’re getting yourself into.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “I know.”

  She’s absolutely right. All the good times and the good sex, it’s hard to keep my focus where it should be: on me and my future child. I have to remember that Christian has made his choice, and he doesn’t want a family. Especially with me. I need some kind of mantra to keep in my head when I’m with him. I didn’t think it would be this easy to forget about what happened, but I can while he’s with me, inside me.

  We change the subject because it’s not exactly fun to talk about that aspect of what happened, even with Ellen. Instead we go back to talking about her bad date and rehashing a compilation of the worst of the worst of her one-night stands. I swear that Ellen could write a book on dating, and it would be both funny and frightening. She’s had guys try to get her to marry them, one kicked her out immediately after sex. A few that made strange and crazy sounds during sex, and a hundred other stories. We’ve cultivated our favorites, and they never fail to get us laughing. It works today, too.

  We’re about to leave, when Ellen gets quiet for a second. “Seriously though, Audrey. Are you going to be okay with this?”

  I have to stop and think. “I hope so,” I say. “I don’t get that gut wrong feeling that I sometimes get when I’m choosing the wrong thing. This feels…natural. I’m not sure if that’s because of our history or because of the way we’re interacting now. But I feel good.”

  “Good,” she says. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

  “Thanks. It really does make me feel better that you ask.”

  She finishes putting her tip on the table. “I’ve got your back, and I will kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

  I laugh and give her a hug. “Good to know.”

  We say our goodbyes and I head to work, but I won’t be there for long. I’ve got a busy day today, meeting with Ellen, and I’m also having lunch with my sister. We haven't talked in a while, and to be honest, we’re just not that close. There are plenty of people who say it doesn't make sense that we don't talk, but we’re several years apart and have always had different interests.

  My sister has always been a free spirit, and in the last few years she’s spent a significant amount of time overseas. That schedule, between time differences and whatever crazy and unique trip she was currently on, wasn't conducive to a close relationship. However, now that she's planning to spend some time in the states, and I'm helping to plan her surprise party, I thought it was time for us to catch up.

  We meet at a small Italian place close to my office. A new contract came in today, and while I do want to catch up with her, I have to get back to work before too long. Grants are often time sensitive, and sometimes they come in at the last minute. Unfortunately, this is one of those.

  When I walk into the restaurant, I see her immediately. She looks like me, standing about my height, but whereas I have dark brown hair, hers is a vibrant pink. If I'm honest with myself, part of the reason that I don't talk to Celia that much is because I'm a little jealous. Sometimes I wish I could care less than I did about my job or wanting kids and stability, or that I could be as free as she seems to be.

  She smiles when she sees me, jumping up to give me a hug. "Sis! It's been a while this time. How are you doing?"

  I hug her back. "I'm pretty good. Nothing that new to report, unfortunately."

  "That's not true," she says, stepping back and sitting down at the table. "Mom tells me that you're trying to have a baby."

  "Yeah," I say, trying to swallow the half-lie that’s about to come out of my mouth. "I'm working with a clinic. I decided to do it on my own."

  Celia gives me a look, like she knows what I'm saying isn't quite true. "You've got that look on your face,” she says. “The one where you're lying. It’s the same one that you used when we were kids and Mom never knew."

  "I do not have a look!"

  She laughs. “You totally do."

  The waitress appears and brings us glasses of water, and we order quickly. Me, fettuccine Alfredo, and Celia rigatoni with meatballs. “What exactly does this 'look' look like?" I ask once the waitress leaves. Celia shrugs. “You have this little half smile and you don't make eye contact."

  "What?"

  "Yeah," she says, “it's like you know that you're lying, so you make sure that you don't look the person in the eye so they can't tell. It's fine, and it works on Mom. But not me. So which part of that was a lie? The fact that you're trying to have a baby or the fact that you're working with a clinic?"

  I sigh. "I'll tell you, but only if you promise not to tell Mom."

  Celia grins. "You of all people know that I love to keep secrets from Mom."

  "And dad,” I say, “and everybody else in your life. Face it Celia, you just like secrets."

  She looks away, and takes a sip of her water. "I won't deny that.”

  “Fine,” I say, "I am trying to get pregnant. But I'm not using a clinic because I can't afford it."

  She raises her eyebrows. "Honestly, that's not the part I thought it was going to be a lie. I thought you had just told Mom that you're trying to get pregnant so she would stop asking about grandchildren."

  “You're not exactly wrong. I did tell her that to get her to stop asking, but I didn't want her to know how I'm actually doing it.”

  Celia gives me a look. “What? Are you using a turkey baster?"

  “Ew,” I say. "No. There's an app, for people who want to get pregnant. They vet the guys and it's kind of like Tinder, then you meet up with them and…”

  Celia starts laughing. “So you're hooking up with a complete stranger?"

  The waitress brings our food, and I wait to speak until after she’s gone. Even though the waitress doesn't have a clue who I am or who Christian is, I’m still mildly embarrassed by the whole situation. "Not exactly."

  "Then who?"

  “It was kind of weird," I say. "The person I matched with on the app, ended up being Christian."

  This only makes Celia start laughing harder. In fact, she's laughing so hard I think she might start to cry. "Mom is literally going to kill you."

  I take a bite of my fettuccine, thinking about that. She might. "She doesn't have to know."

  "You really think that you're going to be able to hide the fact that Christian is the father of your baby for that rest of that child's life?"

  I pause, hoping I could come up with some plan that would be solid, but the best I can come up with is, “Maybe."

  “Bullshit,” she says. "You'll never be able to pull that off. Not only is Mom the nosiest person on the planet, but are you seriously telling me that even though you're not together, you're not going to let Christian see his baby?"

  I hadn't thought about that. We had both agreed that this would be the status quo until he got me pregnant. And then we’d be done. But given our history, wouldn't I want him to see the child? Wouldn't I want my child to know her father? This is one aspect that definitely would've been easier had it been someone I didn’t know. It would be easy to dismiss a stranger, and make up some story for my son or daughter about why their father wasn't around. For Christian, I don't have that luxury. "Regardless of whether she finds out, please don't tell her right now. This is hard enough as it is without incessant phone calls asking why I've gone back to the loser who dumped me. Or who I dumped. Whatever."

  "Your secret is safe with me."

  "So,” I say, “I hear I'm not the only one with news."

  Celia grins sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess the cat’s out of the bag on that one."

  "What makes you want to go back to school now? You've never been interested before.”

  "
I'm not sure," she says, "I just knew while I was walking around all these amazing historical sites that I wanted to know everything there was to know about them. And there's only so much you can learn on your own. You need people who have studied it before, who have the resources to really dig in with you. So I figured now that I've got something I'm truly interested in, it was the time to come back and do it."

  "Well, I'm glad you're going to be back. Maybe we can catch up more often."

  Celia smiles. "I'd like that. Besides, you're gonna need somebody to run interference for you with Mom."

  I practically roll my eyes. "I don't know why you think it's going to be such a big deal. She's never going to find out. She has no reason to know."

  "I think you got off easy as the older child," she says. "Mom knows everyone, everywhere. Eventually, if you and Christian are ever in public together, someone's going to see. And somehow that's going to get back to Mom."

  "I think you're vastly overestimating her network, but okay.”

  “Trust me," she says. “There's a reason I was always in so much trouble in high school.”

  “Aside from your behavior?"

  She grins. “Aside from that."

  We move off the more serious subjects and just chat. We have a lot more to talk about than we thought. She tells me funny stories about her time in Europe, and I tell her about the art class with Mr. Prince. She thinks the story about Christian modeling naked is funny as well. It reminds me that tomorrow we have to do it all over again, and I take a sip of water to cool down the sudden heat. I’m not going to go into details of my sex life with my sister, and I’m having to fight off flashes of us in that damn closet.

  But Celia saves me from myself. She's excited about the fact that I'm going to have art in a gallery, and tells me something I never knew. "I always thought you'd be a really good artist. I hoped that you would go against Mom and Dad’s wishes and try to make it.”

  “I don't know if I loved it enough to do that," I say. "Besides, I don't really think I'm that good."

  Celia snorts. "If you're good enough to get into an exclusive workshop with Alexander Prince," she says, “you’re good enough to do almost anything."