The Miracle Girl

by T. B. Markinson

  “Why? I’m paying for his classes. And you’re paying for his football. I don’t need your permission to spend my money.”

  “You do when it involves my son.”

  “Oh, really.” Her voice told me she was ready to battle him to the end. “Do I need to call you every time I run to the store for food? When I take him clothes shopping? You are being completely ridiculous and a fucking asshole, I might add.”

  I wanted to high-five her. Actually I wanted to lick her. Her robe billowed around me and her legs were spread wide open in my face. I could smell her, and it was intoxicating.

  “Claire,” Darrell whispered. “Think about what you’re doing.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “We don’t want to encourage certain types of behavior.”

  “Dancing.” I couldn’t see her face but was fairly certain she was staring him down, daring him to say what he really meant.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes I do, and it’s asinine. Are you implying if Ian was gay you wouldn’t love him anymore?”

  “What?” He paused. “Of course not. But I don’t think we should encourage him to be … that.”

  “Encourage.” She laughed. “It’s not something you can foster, Darrell. People are born straight, gay, bisexual, transgendered … Signing Ian up for ballet won’t turn him gay.”

  “Bisexual,” he scoffed.

  “What? You don’t think people can be attracted to both sexes. You know I’ve been in relationships with women.”

  I thought I could hear him grinding his teeth. “I wouldn’t consider you bi, though.”

  “Really? Why? Because we have a son together?”

  I was tempted to jump up and shout “Surprise!” Claire squeezed her legs against my head, and I wondered if she knew what I was thinking. But all thoughts of Darrell left my head and I licked her clit. She knocked my head with both her knees and kept them in place, preventing me from trying anything further. However, she quickly glanced down, and I saw she couldn’t wait for Ian’s father to leave. Did fighting turn her on? I made a note to remember that for the future.

  “Listen, I came to discuss Ian and ballet. I won’t stand for it.”

  “Too late. I paid for the classes in full, and Ian likes it. Besides he has a crush on one of the girls in his class and has asked her out on a playdate for next weekend.”

  “Really?” The hopefulness in Darrell’s voice annoyed me. “His first date.”

  “I don’t think we can really call it that. They have plans to fly kites together.” Claire leaned toward the counter again, and once again my face was right in her honey spot. “Did you ever think your son was smarter than you? He’s the only boy in the whole class and already has one girl gaga over him.”

  Darrell giggled, and I wanted to puke. That man should never giggle. And he was worried that his son was a fag?

  “He’s a regular Casanova,” he said.

  I felt the smile in his voice.

  “Now, can you please apologize and go. I have things I need to do today.”

  I heard him stand. “Fine, whatever. Have a nice day.” The sound of his retreating footsteps and then the closing of the front door was a relief.

  “What an ass!” Claire gripped her coffee, and I saw the whites of her knuckles. Her nostrils flared.

  “Do you two fight like that all the time?”

  She shook her head. “No, but when we do, it involves parenting Ian. He thinks I’m too liberal, and I worry he’s too much of a stick-in-the-mud. Darrell’s not always like that. He didn’t throw a fit when Ian wanted a Barbie.”

  “Really?”

  “He actually bought Ian a Barbie Dream Car. Of course, Darrell also got him a G.I. Joe.”

  “Then why is he throwing a fit about ballet, then?”

  “If I had to guess, it has something to do with his ex-wife. She still pops into the picture, and when she does, Darrell lashes out at those he can. It can be infuriating.”

  I leaned against the far counter, sipping my coffee. “You may not want to hear this right now, but you’re damn sexy when you’re mad.”

  The color started to return to her knuckles as I watched the strain ebb from her body. “Really?” She quirked an eyebrow and brushed some hair out of her eyes.

  “What things do you have to do today?” I asked.

  “What?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “You told Darrell you had things you had to do today. What?” I shrugged.

  “You.”

  This brought a smile to my lips and a warm sensation down below. “You have to do me?” I made my voice as appealing as possible. It worked. With a simple hand motion she undid the ties of her robe. I could see the wetness on her legs glistening from my earlier efforts.

  I moved to kiss her, but she placed a delicate finger on my lips, pushing me back. Shaking her head, she said, “I’m in charge, now.”

  Her confidence made my clit ache for her. “What do you plan on doing to me?” I whispered in heady excitement.

  Not saying a word or letting any emotion cross her face, she grabbed my hand and led me upstairs to her bedroom. The sheets were a tangled mess from our earlier escapades, and the room smelled of blissful sex.

  She turned me so my back was facing her and reached around to undo my robe, letting it flutter to the floor. “On the bed,” she demanded, but before I could respond, she pushed me gently onto my stomach. I felt her wetness on my ass and let out a whimper of desire.

  Claire traced the outline of my tattoo, and it took me a second to realize she was using her erect nipple. Her hair cascaded over my back, and it was like her silky strands had a direct connection to my pulsing bud, sending shockwaves. No woman had ever turned me on this much through the simple act of touching.

  Delicately she kissed my back and moved up to nibble on my ear. I turned my head, and she sensed I needed her lips on mine. She kissed me frantically, plunging her tongue deep into my mouth and just as quickly she stopped, focusing on my tattoo again. Every lick and nip sent a new wave of emotion. This wasn’t just an orgasm in the making; she was helping heal my soul.

  She continued to focus on my back, so I wasn’t expecting it when I felt her fingers spreading my lips, pleading for permission to enter. I could feel my wetness envelop her, and she plunged in deeply.

  I let out a gasp, which excited her more. Frantically, she moved her fingers in and out, bringing me to the brink. The fireworks started to form behind my lids, and I squeezed my eyes tightly not to miss the show.

  That’s when Claire decided to stop the performance and rolled me over onto my back. Straddling me again, I felt her juices mixing with mine. She lowered her clit onto mine and moved ever so slightly. Sighing, I reached up and traced a finger along each breast before teasing one of her nipples. She reached down with her hand and started to rub her own clit.

  “Oh, fuck,” I moaned.

  Overcome with desire I tried to enter her. Slapping my hand away she raised an eyebrow, commanding me to watch. With her free hand she slid two of her fingers into her own pussy. I cried out as if she had just entered me.

  My eyes bulged, and I had to grip the sheets tightly with both hands to stop myself from interfering. Claire wanted to be in charge, and I didn’t want to mess with her plans. She arched her back, tossing her head even farther back and groaned loudly. Her hand moved in and out forcefully as she bounced up and down on my pelvis. Opening her mouth she let out the most satisfying shriek I had ever heard any woman belt out, and her body pulsed. Wave after wave. Yet she didn’t let up. Her stamina was astounding, and my restraint melted.

  I practically threw Claire onto her back and climbed on top. This time she didn’t stop me. Covering her mouth with mine as if I wanted to consume her orgasm, I slipped my fingers inside her. She was still in the middle of coming and squirted all over my hand. The warmth pulled me in deeper, and I felt her legs tightening, holding m
e in and not wanting to let me go.

  I never wanted to let her go.

  Never.

  Claire’s entire body rocked, and her fingers dug deep into my back.

  Not wanting this to be the end, but to be the beginning, I moved down and took her swollen lips into my mouth gently, making sure she wasn’t over stimulated. I wanted her to come again, but not too quickly or hard. Her moan told me to proceed, slowly. That was perfectly fine with me. I could spend a lifetime between her legs and not feel completely sated.

  My tongue slid along the inside of her lips, and I entered her a little. Her taste was sensually overwhelming; I had to move down to explore her inner thigh so I wouldn’t come just from swallowing her juices. I kept moving down as my mouth explored her lower legs before I sucked on each of her delicate toes. Claire watched me with such fervent intensity that I decided to tease her some and placed her foot near my clit. With her big toe she circled my bud, bringing me back to the brink quickly. Stopping her with my own commanding look, I dropped her foot and entered her with my tongue again.

  Deeper and deeper I went.

  Her back arched, and her hips urged me further inside.

  I knew she was close and needed release. I lapped her clit and entered her with a finger.

  “Please,” she begged.

  It was time. I pushed inside as far as she wanted and concentrated on her clit. Her fingers clutched at my hair, and she scored my scalp with her nails. When she started to come her upper body bolted upright, and she gripped my back with both hands. It took everything I had not to stop and scream out in ecstasy. I held my finger and tongue in place as the orgasm coursed through her body. Her convulsions shook the bed, and she collapsed back.

  For several minutes I kept my face buried in her pussy, inhaling her smell. Finally, I was home.

  Eventually, she pulled me up and I lay on top of her. Running her fingers through my hair, Claire said, “I’m sorry.”

  “What are you sorry for?” I was too spent to look into her eyes.

  “I think I drew blood on your back and ruined your tattoo,” she whispered.

  “Trust me, you wouldn’t be able to ruin it or anything. Never.”

  Her body stiffened. “But I did. God, I did.”

  I pushed up and propped my head on my hand. “What are you talking about, Claire? This was wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”

  “But I pushed you away that night.” She closed her eyes, squeezing out one tiny tear.

  “What? Oh, that night.” I placed my hand tenderly on her cheek. “Don’t think of it like that. We’re together now. That’s all that matters.”

  “You scared me that night. Never before had I felt so loved.” She let out a sad laugh. “You’d think that would be a good thing. But you loved me completely, and that scared me. I was so young. And stupid. All those wasted years. So many years.”

  “Shhh.” I rested my finger on her velvet lips. “Don’t think of it like that. Besides, you’d never want to go back and change it. Ian. You love your son. You’d never want to change that.”

  Her eyes agreed.

  “We can torture ourselves to the end of days thinking what if. Let’s not do that to each other. Now. That’s what matters.”

  She answered by kissing me sweetly. “I have always loved you, even when you were so far away.”

  “Me too, Claire. Me too.”

  Claire made love to me like someone determined to show through her touches that I was the only person she wanted or ever wanted.

  By mid-morning we both drifted off to sleep, with her in my arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  My morning didn’t start off well. First, I slept through my alarm. So did Claire. However, both of us liked to get to work early, so sleeping in meant I didn’t leave her house until a little after seven. The nights I spent at her house, I rode my bike instead of running to avoid anyone noticing the same car parked outside. Claire offered to give me a lift, but it was one of those stunning Colorado mornings. The sky was a brilliant blue, yet the air was brisk. Just what I needed to jumpstart my brain.

  As I locked my bike up outside of the office, Darrell rode up next to me on a Trek. From the looks of the bike, it was brand-spanking new.

  “Morning, Darrell.” I tried not to think of the last time I saw him so I wouldn’t get a goofy grin on my face. Actually, I hadn’t seen him since I was between Claire’s legs.

  “Morning.” He busied himself by locking up his Trek.

  “New bike?” I asked.

  “Yeah.” He looked up after snapping his U-lock. I saw him eye my Specialized Vita Pro that I’d dropped a couple grand on soon after moving to Denver. His Trek wasn’t cheap by any means. “My son wants to go riding in the mountains this summer.”

  For a moment, I forgot all about our troubles and smiled at Darrell. “Sounds wonderful.”

  He shrugged. It wasn’t the most heartfelt exchange, but it felt good not to have an acrimonious discussion for once.

  “Catch you later, Darrell.”

  From inside the glass door, I saw Darrell pull out his cell phone. I was able to catch the beginning of the conversation after I edged the door open some.

  “Guess what your old man just did, Ian?” Darrell was smiling broadly.

  With that, I left, not wanting to intrude on the father-son moment. Maybe he wasn’t such an ass.

  After showering in my private bathroom, I sat in my office with wide-eyed and crazy-haired Brenda and Avery. “I put this …” Brenda waved a paper in the air and then held it close to her face, scrutinizing it with squinted eyes. I wondered if she knew she was holding her glasses in her left hand. “What is this?”

  “Report?” I offered, tilting my head, baffled by this woman.

  The crazy woman shook her head. “No. This?” She tapped the paper with her glasses.

  “Spreadsheet,” said Avery, unsure if she was helping or insulting Brenda.

  “Spreadsheet. Yes, spreadsheet!” Brenda looked up triumphantly.

  And this was the woman in charge of circulation. No wonder our subscribers were fleeing faster than rats on a sinking ship.

  My phone rang. “JJ Cavendish.” Usually I didn’t answer during a meeting, but I needed a diversion from the Brenda circus.

  “JJ,” Claire whispered. “I need you.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes!”

  I set the phone down. “I’m needed in the pressroom. I’ll be right back. Carry on.”

  Brenda and Avery nodded, not caring. Brenda was usually clueless about her surroundings, and Avery was studying the woman like she was trying to determine if Brenda was for real or if she was putting on a show.

  I rushed down the back steps and knocked on Claire’s door.

  “JJ?”

  “Yes,” I responded, baffled why she didn’t say come in.

  “Come in, but make sure you close the door.”

  I followed her directions. “What’s going on?”

  “I had a little accident.” She turned around and her boobs were bulging out of her bra. Her shirt was completely unbuttoned.

  “I was in a meeting.” I was tempted to cancel the meeting and whisk her off to a hotel.

  “I’m not trying to seduce you,” she whispered. “I tore my shirt on the file cabinet.” She looked around like she expected some of our photographers to pop out and say cheese.

  I burst into laughter.

  “It’s not funny.” She tried not to laugh. “Okay, it is. But I can’t go out there like this.” She pointed to her tits. This wasn’t the type of office one could strut around in a red lace bra. I tried to imagine an office where you could. Paris, maybe? Amsterdam?

  I had to sit down. I was laughing so hard. “This would only happen to you.”

  Darrell burst into the room. “Claire, you can’t have page three in the local sec—”

  It took him that long to notice that her shirt was ripped
open. I jumped up to block his view.

  “Shut the door, Darrell,” ordered Claire.

  “What in the hell is going on in here?” He looked to me and then tried to see Claire over my shoulder.

  “I called JJ to help me. I tore my shirt on the file cabinet.” She covered her breasts with her arms but held them too tightly, and it made them bulge out even more.

  “And you called JJ? Not Brenda?” he asked, dumbfounded.

  Claire gave him a not-right-now shake of the head.

  I yanked my sweater off and handed it to her and motioned for Darrell to turn around. He did. Even the back of his neck was red from embarrassment. How in the world had these two ever slept together? Immediately, I regretted thinking that and had to think of my happy place on the beach to erase the image.

  With more dignity than I would have been able to muster in the situation Claire said, “I need B3, Darrell.”

  “Put the ad on four in the main section,” he demanded.

  “I can’t. The ad is full color and three is the designated color spot, which already has a half-page full color. It can’t go on two, four, or five‌—‌they only support spot color, not full. The front and back pages are full color but are out of the question, obviously.”

  “Dammit, Claire. Advertising doesn’t dictate where we put the news.”

  “Actually, it does. Our diagrammer lays out the paper every day, and you work around the ads. Tomorrow’s paper is no different.”

  “Not this time.”

  I was amazed by their back and forth. Claire obviously wasn’t disturbed that Darrell just saw her tits.

  “Put the color ad in the sports section.”

  Claire rolled her eyes. “There’s a full-page car ad in the sports section. I can’t put a furniture ad in the fucking sports section. The advertiser would have a shit fit.”

  “All right. The classified section then.”

  “Can’t.” She didn’t even bother to explain why. Not that it mattered. From the look on Darrell’s face he wasn’t listening to her.

  “Why do you need B3?” I asked.

  “We have a local expose that needs an entire page, and it needs to go in the local section. Page two is out with the obits and everything, and four is half-filled with ads.”