Rock & Roll Girls

by CL Rowell

  I met his eyes, letting him see the emotions swirling inside of me—emotions he’d awakened, first, in a photograph, then more powerfully, in person, with the passion in his music. “Maybe I don’t want to be a good girl tonight.”

  “Callie—“

  “No. You’re leaving in the morning. I may never see you again.” I blinked through a hot blur of tears I refused to let fall. “This may be our only time together. I don’t want to look back, years from now, and think about what could have been. I don’t want to wish I’d acted—I want to just do it…live in the moment—no regrets.”

  “It definitely won’t be our only time together, not if I have any say in it,” he assured me.

  “I hope not,” I whispered, my voice so low I barely heard me.

  “It won’t.” Squeezing my hand, he added, “Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to…I can wait.”

  I felt the sting of a solitary tear as it escaped and tracked down my cheek. My heart melted inside my chest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

  I couldn’t tell you who made the first move toward who. All I know is that mere moments after the words left my lips, I was in his arms, my mouth pressed to his, our tongues dueling like the world was going to end at dawn. We rolled back and forth across that huge bed, from corner to corner, edge to edge. Shirts were shed, and my bra followed soon after. A knock on the door froze us in place.

  “Room service.”

  He stared at me, questioning, so I raised my voice. “Leave it by the door, please.”

  As if I’d said the magic words to release him from his frozen state, he was all over me. His hands were on my breasts, my back, my ass; his lips were on my neck, his jeans-clad leg pressed to the weeping juncture of my thighs. My fingers were buried in the silky warmth of his shoulder length brown waves, and I squeezed my thighs together around his, rubbing the area of my greatest need against the smooth denim material.

  When he cupped my breast and I felt the liquid fire of his mouth engulf the pebbled tip, I came unglued, arching off the mattress in an attempt to place more of my starved flesh against the heat of his hungry lips. I wanted less, but I wanted more at the same time. I wanted the feelings he inspired in the center of me to never end, to go on forever in a universal glitch that would hold us here, body to body in an endless loop of time. We wouldn’t starve, couldn’t die, because this few seconds would repeat over and over throughout infinity. Or that was what I wanted until his trembling fingers slid up the soft skin of my inner thigh to creep beneath the elastic leg of my bikini panties. As he started to explore, sliding deeper into the hidden recesses of my untried body, my legs parted of their own free will, spreading wide to encourage even more exploration.

  After taking my hand and pressing it to the hard bulge behind the zipper of his pants, he returned his attention to removing the last of my clothes. I froze. Unsure of what to do, but unwilling to admit it and risk ruining the moment, I thought back to late night sleepovers with my best friend and whispered conversations in the privacy of her bedroom. Lucy kept a steady boyfriend all through high school, and had had no compunction over sharing play by play descriptions of her adventures with her curious best friend.

  Noticing my lack of movement, Jessie leaned back to meet my eyes. His were filled with a mix of concern and passion. His voice low, he asked, “What’s the matter, baby? Do you want to stop?”

  “No!” I shook my head hard enough to tousle my hair, my earnest eyes wide. “I, uh, I was waiting for you to undress, too.”

  He grinned, a wicked glint in those gorgeous eyes. “You don’t want to undress me?”

  “I can, but you’ll have to let me up…”

  Blinking, as if just realizing I was on my back, his hand busy between my widespread legs, he debated for several seconds. Then holding up a damp finger, he pulled away just long enough to shed everything but his socks. “There.”

  “Wait!” Stopping him in mid-lunge, before he could climb back in beside me, I let my eyes roam across his toned, muscular body. I visually worshipped his broad shoulders, his bulging biceps, his well-formed pecs, topped with flat, tan nipples. I drooled over his lightly defined six-pack, and licked suddenly dry lips at the sight of his sex—jutting tall and proud from a neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair. Was he big? I wasn’t sure, having no experience to compare with, but his measurements looked impressive to me, standing tall enough to almost hide his navel from my view. I dropped my eyes to sleek, muscled thighs and calves to finish my perusal, then cleared my throat and whispered, “Turn around.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I met his eyes. “I might not get another chance to see you naked. I want to burn the memory into my brain, never to be forgotten—so yeah, turn around…please?”

  “You’re worried about forgetting me before I come back? Take a picture. Grab your phone and take a picture—hell, take two. I’ll turn around and you can get both sides. But hurry—please—the expression in your eyes…you’re killing me.”

  I no longer needed to pull up the words of my friend to give me ideas. Having seen his body, I had some ideas of my own. I knew what I wanted—needed—to do. I was dying to kiss, nibble or lick every inch of his flesh I could reach. I wanted the taste of him engraved on my tongue, the honeyed sweetness of his kisses, the salty tang of his skin, the earthy taste of his seed. Moving fast as I could, I snapped the pictures. I even allowed him to take a few of me—not wanting him to forget me while he was gone, either…on the off chance that he meant what he said about coming back. Then, tossing the phones aside, I held out my arms.

  Rolling him onto his back as he came down on top of me, I took control. I kissed him with all of the pent-up passion bubbling up in me. I kissed his lips, his eyelids, his cheeks. I nibbled his ears, bit a trail down the cords of his neck, licked across his chest to suck and bite his flat male nipples. When he attempted to flip me onto my back, I straddled his hips, licking and biting a path down the muscles of his stomach, sliding my tongue down his happy trail, then licking up and down his weeping shaft, sampling the salty flavor if his pre-cum wherever I found it.

  As I closed my lips around the tip of his hardness, he won the battle and, seconds later, I found myself flat on my back beneath him. I pouted up at him. “I wasn’t finished.”

  “Well, that’s too freaking bad, because I damn sure almost was.”

  I blinked at him, nonplussed. “You don’t want me to make you cum?”

  “Hell yes, I want you to make me cum—when I’m buried to the hilt inside your sweet, slippery walls, unable to work my way in any deeper…and ideally after you’ve cum more times than I can count, and I’m about to go out of my mind with need—then, and only then, I want to cum.”

  “Oh.” My eyes widened when he captured my wrists in one hand and slid lower, kissing a ticklish line down the goose bump coated flesh of my tummy, headed south. The few seconds of video I’d watched earlier flashed through my mind. The reality, when it happened, was so much more intense than I ever dreamed it could be. I writhed under the attentions of his skilled lips, tongue and fingers, whimpering his name as I peaked again and again.

  When I could no longer think straight, my brain oozing orgasmic mush, he retraced his trek back up my body to my lips and shared the salty sweet flavors of my passion with me. As he did, he entered me with one fierce roll of his hips, burying himself inside me before I even registered the pinching sting of his claiming. I’d been expecting excruciating pain, and had intended to tell him he was my first so he’d go slow—so I was pleasantly relieved to find it nothing like I thought it’d be. My worries fled my mind, along with my intentions to tell him I wasn’t on birth control, as soon as he started to move, pulling almost all the way out and plunging back in, setting a pounding rhythm that had me dancing to the tune he played on my body. By the time we finished, an unknown amount of time later, I was kneeling on my knees at the edge of the mattress with him standing behind me, pounding into me as I sc
reamed his name. Exhausted, I collapsed across the bed with him cuddled close behind me, and we slept.

  3

  **

  My phone vibrating against my cheek woke me in the early hours of the morning, only two or three hours after I’d fallen asleep. It was my mother, wondering where I was. I sent a quick response that I was on my way, and eased out of bed. Quiet as a mouse, I dressed and found my purse and shoes. Reluctant to disturb him so soon after we’d passed out, I wrote a note explaining that I had to get home and hadn’t wanted to wake him, and tucked it just inside the toiletry bag on the tank of the toilet, so he’d find it later. I included my number, letting him know he could call me anytime. Taking one last look at his sweet sleeping face, I let myself out, dodging the food cart we’d forgotten, and hurrying down the street to retrieve my car.

  When twelve hours passed without a phone call, it stung, but I still hoped he’d call. After twenty-four hours, I shed a few tears, and told myself he was a busy guy, but he’d call when he could. After a week, I admitted it looked like it had just been a one night stand. I tried to put it behind me—until I missed one period, and then two. Uncertain of how she’d react, I told Mom of my suspicions and she brought home a pregnancy test, her eyes heavy with worry. Her concern was well placed. The test came up positive—as did the second one, and the one at the health department a few days later.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked me, after the third test confirmed what we already knew.

  I met her eyes, my head high and shoulders back. “You’re going to be a grandma.”

  “Are you sure that’s wise? What about college? What about your plans? It’s going to be so hard to chase your dreams as a single mom.”

  I stood strong, determined to do it my way. “I won’t abort this baby, Mom. Maybe Jessie doesn’t feel for me what I feel for him, but this child is part of both of us—and I’ll shower it with so much love, it’ll almost be like it has both of us. Plus, it’ll have you—the bestest grandma in the entire universe.” I cradled her hand in both of mine. “And I can still go to school—without putting everything on your shoulders, so don’t worry. I’ll attend the community college in Natchitoches and get my ADN. They have a daycare there. And after he or she is a little older, I’ll get my BSN at the university, and then maybe, eventually, my CNP, too.”

  “I didn’t think you’d put everything on me. You aren’t like that. It’s like you think I don’t know you at all.” She scowled, nothing if not persistent. “You can still pursue your medical degree, and I’ll help with the baby when your schedule is full. I love kids. I don’t mind.”

  “I’m going to become a nurse.”

  “But you had your heart set on being a pediatrician.”

  “And now I have my heart set on being a mother. The study requirements to get a nursing degree aren’t as tedious as the ones on the path to become a doctor. I can make good money, and I can find work around my child’s schedule a lot sooner—and easier.”

  “Aren’t you going to tell him? It’s his child—and partly his responsibility, too.”

  “I don’t know how to reach him. He never called me.” I explained how I’d left him sleeping and wrote a note with my number on it.

  “Maybe he didn’t find it. Murphy’s Law plainly states—“

  “Mom, chances are slim he didn’t find it, and you know it. Besides, if Murphy’s Law threw us off track, maybe it just means we weren’t meant to be.”

  “Your logic is faulty.”

  “Then it’s faulty. I’m going to Lucy’s.”

  “Drive safe.”

  “Always.”

  Talking to Lucy, I let myself shed the tears I refused to release in front of my mother, consumed a couple of organic chocolate lattes, and felt a bit better until—

  “Your mom could have a point about the Murphy’s Law thing—and don’t try to give me that bullshit about it being meant to be. It isn’t meant to be until you hear it from the horse’s—or jackass’s—mouth. What the hell were you thinking, leaving it in his toiletry bag, anyway? Those fuckers stay wet inside. I replace the one I take to the gym every three months when I replace my shower scrubby. If that piece of paper got buried under his body wash, shampoo, shaving cream—razor—it probably became at least partially unreadable. What if your signature and phone number got drenched and became impossible to decipher? How the hell is he supposed to reach you, then? Hmm?”

  “I don’t know. You could have a point…”

  “Could have a—bitch, I will slap you into the next century…just as soon as you pop out that baby. You know good and damn well I have a point. I can’t believe I shared my organic lattes with you and you gonna go disrespecting me like that. You have any idea how much organic chocolate costs? We won’t even talk about organic coffee beans—“

  “I’m sorry.” I hugged her, fighting a losing battle to hold back my laughter. “I’m sorry. Don’t kill me. I won’t do it again.”

  “I forgive you…this time. Don’t think that lets you off the hook, though.” She held up her perfectly manicured fingers and started counting off my sins before I could ask what they were. “You went to what sounds like an amazing concert without me, you went back to his motel and cashed in your v-card after meeting him two, three hours earlier, tops, and didn’t dish after—and you suffered in silence waiting for him to call, when you know I’m always here for you. Hell, the only reason you came here today, far as I can tell, is cuz your momma pissed you off and you wanted to rant.”

  The hurt in her eyes killed me, and I rushed to explain, “It wasn’t like that, Lucy. I didn’t say anything to anyone—not even my mom. I was afraid I’d jinx it, that the universe would realize it screwed up by pairing us together, and would take him away—which, apparently, happened anyway, without me saying a word.”

  “Aww, baby,” she murmured, hugging me close, “No, no, no, you’ve got it all wrong. You totally deserve a great guy, and there has to be a reasonable explanation for why he hasn’t called. Maybe the universe has someone even better in mind for you.”

  My mouth drooped at the corners, “I don’t want anyone else, Lucy.”

  “Then you have to have faith that everything will work out.”

  The pregnancy seemed to pass by in a flash, but both Lucy and my mom were by my side every step of the way. Lucy set up my reveal party after the sonogram appointment. I was thrilled to discover it was a boy, and hoped he’d have his daddy’s eyes. Mom, with Lucy’s help, threw me a baby shower, ensuring I’d have everything I’d need for my son’s first several months—and both of them were with me at the hospital, even after my doctor decided to give me an emergency cesarean surgery when the baby, who I decided to name James, seemed determined to come into the world bottom first.

  As the months, and then years, passed, with James learning to crawl and then walk and nursing school and, later on, my job, to keep me busy, I stayed distracted enough that I rarely paused to wonder how Jessie was. But, there were moments when a certain expression would flit across my child’s face, and the feelings and memories would flood my mind, dragging me back to that October night when he was conceived, and sadness would weigh me down all over again.

  Then, one day, it happened. My phone vibrated. It was Lucy.

  Come over when you get off work.

  Mom expects me to pick up James as soon as I’m off on Wednesdays. You know she has her church group.

  Fine, pick him up, and then come over.

  Okay. Are you alright?

  Yes, but I found an article you need to see. It’s about Jessie.

  Jessie…my heart clenched. I pictured his face in my mind. My head told me I should tell her to forget it, but my heart…my heart wouldn’t let me. Pulse racing, I texted back: I’ll be over as soon as I can.

  4

  **

  I was worthless after those texts. As hard as I tried to put the exchange out of my mind, it kept creeping back in, and I was relieved when my shift ended. Then the
butterflies set in. What if it was an article about his engagement to a gorgeous young woman…even worse, what if—as I pulled into my mom’s drive, I slammed the gear shifter into park, and fired off a quick text before heading inside:

  Please tell me it’s not an obituary or a wedding announcement.

  Would I do that to you? Hell no, it isn’t anything like that.

  Thank God.

  You on your way yet?

  Just got to Mom’s.

  Well, hurry.

  I tried to hurry, but James and I have a ritual—and if I deviate from it, I’d better have a very good reason, so as I entered the front door, I knelt down and held out my arms. “Where’s my favorite guy in the whole wide world?”

  “Just the world?” He peeked at me from around the corner. As it always did, the combination of those sparkling green eyes, dimple-filled chubby baby cheeks and mop of brown curls wrapped around my heart and squeezed.

  “The universe?” I tipped my head to the side. “The galaxy?”

  “Mommy!” He threw himself across the room and into my arms.

  “My baby!” I cuddled him close and rained kisses across his plump cheeks.

  “No, Mommy!” He struggled free and put his tiny fists on his hips. “It’s James—I’m not a baby…I’m a big boy. I’m four, now.” He held up four chubby fingers.

  “Does my big boy want to go for a ride?”

  “Where?” He eyed me with suspicion.

  “Wanna go see Aunt Lucy?”

  “At her house?” His little eyes narrowed.

  “Yes, at her house.”

  “Promise?”

  I held up my fingers, “Scout’s honor.”

  “No shots?” He scrunched up his little face, the threat of tears lurking at the corners of his eyes.

  “No shots,” I agreed, regretting tricking him the last time we went for vaccinations.