by Scott, Gigi
“Oh, Frank, you’re such a stickler. One dinner wouldn’t hurt. Besides, who’s to know?”
Frank chuckles. “Well, Penny, you’ve basically announced it in front of the entire condo.”
Penny laughs, too. “Okay, I won’t force you. But I could bring you something over if you wish.”
“No thanks. I’m going to cook for Meg.”
Penny pouts and says, “Okay, another time, then.”
Before returning to her house, she glances at me. Although she’s smiling, I can still feel the hostility. There’s little doubt that Penny has the hots for Frank. Maybe they’ve been seeing each other already.
“Your neighbor is very nice,” I say to Frank hoping to find out more about their relationship.
“Oh, she’s all right. We’ve been neighbors for many years.”
I have no idea what it means.
Although I am disappointed that we can’t have barbeque ribs, I’m also flattered that Frank wishes to cook dinner for me.
Frank makes seafood spaghetti using shrimp, scallop, and tomato sauce. He also makes a Greek salad.
His kitchen is huge, and the stove is on the island in the middle. I stand next to him, watching him cook. I used to think cooking made a man unmanly because my dad seldom cooks, but I’m not sure that’s true anymore. Frank looks very sexy in an apron. His biceps ripple when he chops and dices the onion. When he dips a finger into the pot, and then sucks it, I nearly gasp.
“Let me help you stir the sauce,” I say as I reach for the ladle, eager to offer help.
“Sure,” he says and passes it to me.
His arm brushes against my boob by accident as I take over the ladle, and I gasp. His eyes darken right away, making me tremble. Jeez. I didn’t know cooking could be so hot.
Frank goes around to the other side of the island to make salad. Since we face each other, I feel his eyes on me from time to time. I realize my breasts are bouncing each time my arm moves. I become so conscious of his gaze that my imagination goes wild. Every time he steps away from where he is I have the wish he’ll come to me, hold me from behind, and cup my breasts in his hands. Just the thought of it makes my girly bits ache.
An hour later we sit down to eat dinner. Frank has a glass of wine and serves me coconut water.
“Mmm! This is so yummy,” I say after swallowing down the first bite. “Frank, you’re a better cook than my dad.”
Frank laughs. “Thank you, sweetheart. I agree with you. John was never into cooking. He always preferred to eat out.”
Frank and my dad were roommates in college.
“He told me he was lucky to have a roommate who cooked,” I say as I glance at him.
“He did?” Frank smiles.
“He said you were the second best cook in the world,” I inform him. “My mom being the best.”
Frank was gulping down the wine when he heard me. He almost chokes on it as he laughs. “John is a lucky bastard,” he says after he clears his throat. “Many girls were after him.”
My mouth falls. “Really? I didn’t know that!”
He chuckles. “He wouldn’t tell you, would he? But he was a popular guy. I was surprised he settled down so soon and for so long!”
I smiled, please to hear that. My dad and my mom have a great relationship and I’m always grateful for that.
But when I glance at Frank, I see a trace of gloom on his face. I become curious. “Are you happy being a bachelor, Frank? Do you want a family, too?”
He looks startled for a moment, and then he says stifling a smile. “Jeez, Meg. You sound like an adult.”
“I am an adult,” I say indignantly. “I’m eighteen!”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Frank apologizes. “Of course I would like to have a family, but a person doesn’t always get what he wants.”
I’m puzzled by the comment. Dad says Frank is a billionaire. He worked in the IT industry for many years and now owns a business with multiple offices in the state. Since he’s wealthy and hot, he can have any woman he wants, right?
“What exactly do you want?” I ask curiously.
He gazes at me for a moment, his hazel eyes twinkle. He reaches out his hand and strokes the bridge of my nose, “I can’t tell you, little girl.”
“Hey!” I protest. “I’m not a little girl.”
After a shower in the luxurious bathroom, I join Frank in his media room to watch a movie. He lets me pick one from the Prime channel. It feels awkward to watch anything romantic with Frank, and I don’t care for actions or sci-fi, which pretty much leaves us with horror. I browse among the titles and click on Psycho. I’ve heard so much about this movie, the best film by Alfred Hitchcock. Now is the perfect time to watch it, since I’m next to a strong body that I could curl against if it got too scary.
“Are you sure?” Frank says with amusement.
“Yep,” I say. “I always wanted to see it. Is it okay with you?”
“Sure. I’ve seen it before. But it’s a good movie. I don’t mind seeing it again.”
Sure enough, in less than thirty minutes I’m hugging the cushion and screaming at the shower scene.
I pretty much hide my face behind the cushion for the next thirty minutes. I can’t even look at the screen when Lila gets down to the basement.
“You’ve got to see this, Meg,“ Frank says chuckling. “It’s the most famous scene of the movie.“
I’m reluctant but also curious, so I venture a look when “Mrs. Bates” turns around on the chair. And as I scream, I feel Frank’s arm around me and pulling me to him.
I cuddle against him for the rest of the film, and when it’s over, I don’t stir.
“Are you all right, Meg?” he asks and I can hear the laughter in his voice.
“Y…yes,” I say. I should really pull away from him, but I don’t want to. It feels so comfortable in his arms. “I’m…err…sorry. I’m not as brave as I thought.”
“It’s okay.” Frank smiles and rubs my back.
I relax into him, sniffing his t-shirt. It smells mint and parsley he used for the pasta sauce and it’s the sexiest scent I’ve known. I hear myself coo and feel his hand moves lower to my waist, nearly touching my butt.
I’m so aroused I put my arm around his neck and sit on his lap. I press my boobs against his firm chest and kiss his ear.
Frank’s breath hitches and his cock twitches in his jeans. His hand is palming my butt through my shorts.
I trace my lips along his jaw, feeling the prickling of his stubble. I suck on his firm, chiseled lips, and he sucks me back.
As he claims my mouth with his skillful tongue, Frank’s hands are under my t-shirt and roaming on my back. He reaches to my front and cups my breast from below.
I moan, liking the touch of his rough hands.
As soon as he lets go of my mouth, I move slightly away from him and lift my t-shirt, showing him my silver-star Nippies.
Frank’s pupils dilate as he inhales sharply. “Shit, Meg. I thought they were hearts.”
“I changed them after the shower,” I say in a husky voice. “I’m glad you noticed them.”
“You’re such a naughty girl.” He strokes the stars and presses them between his fingers.
I whimper. “You can take them off me if you want.”
He peels them off me promptly. As soon as the stickers are gone, he presses his lips on my harden tips and sucks me hard.
“Ahh,” I cry as I watch my glistening pearls going in and out of his mouth, more swelling each time when they’re out. This is so hot. I’m burning between my thighs and my panties are melting with desire.
Without hesitation, I take off my shorts.
“Jesus, Meg,” Frank rasps. “Do you always wear such sexy underwear?”
I giggle. “It’s just a thong, Frank. And it isn’t even crotchless.”
“Crotchless? Jesus Christ,” he says as he slips a finger into the strip of fabric, and then he groans. “Why’re you so wet, Meg?”
“Mm
...I’m not sure, Frank. I guess I’m turned on,” I say in a seductive voice. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m not a slut, but I’ve turned into one ever since this morning. I’m aching for Frank’s touch. I want his finger inside me, or even better, his hard rod.
Frank curses again but doesn’t speak. He strokes my petals up and down and rubs circles around my nub, sending delicious shivers down my spine. I’ve touched myself often, but Frank’s fingers are definitely more skillful and experienced. He alternates between circling and strumming across my naughty bit. He presses it hard for a minute and strokes it softly in another. He’s unpredictable and masterful. I squirm on his lap like a crazy woman.
“Stop teasing me, please, Frank,” I beg in a croaky voice, feeling the tension building inside me. “Make me come!”
My girly bits are so excited I have to pinch my own nipples to release the aching. Frank bends down to claim one of them in his mouth and drives me even madder. My breathing becomes rugged and my heart pounds against my chest.
When Frank pinches my bud in his fingers and tweaks it a bit, I scream. A dam breaks inside of me, and a river floods onto my thighs.
“Holy shit,” Frank closes his eyes and continues to feel my wetness. And then unexpectedly, he thrusts a finger inside me and gyrates it along my walls. “You’re so tight, baby, tight as a virgin.”
I moan again, liking his finger. And then I make a slip of the tongue, “I am a virgin.”
He pauses for a moment, and then he pulls out his finger. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Meg. But you really fooled me.”
“Why?” I’m pissed. “Do I look like a slut to you?”
“Not at all, but you don’t look that innocent, either.”
Shit. I can’t blame him for that. “I’m not normally this way, Frank,” I say, hoping to change his perception of me. “I don’t flirt with guys.”
He blinks. “Are you saying I’m making you naughty?”
“Kind of,” I say. “I want you.”
His eyes darken again, but only for a second. He lifts me off his lap and puts me back onto the couch. “You shouldn’t, Meg,” he says as he stands up. “I’m your dad’s best friend, and I’m twenty years older than you.”
I pout. Damn. I ruined it.
Frank says good night to me and goes upstairs promptly. I sulk for a moment and follow suit. But before entering my room I hear faint noises coming from his room and I put my ear against his door to listen. At first I hear a groan, and then pounding noises as if his elbow is hitting the bed. The pounding gets faster and so do the groans. The final note is a loud grunt followed by what sounds like “Meg!”
Holy shit. Did he just call my name when he came? I cover my mouth as I quickly retreat into my room. Lying in bed, I touch myself while replaying what Frank did to me earlier and what I heard him doing, and I come hard within a minute.
The next day, Frank takes me to a boat ride as he promised. The moment he uncovers his Regal 2800 my mouth falls. It is truly a beauty with sleek lines and fluid curves. Frank says he’s owned it for five years already but it looks brand new because he’s been taking good care of it.
The boat has a wide beam and the interior is roomy, enough for five or more people.
Frank wipes the windshield with a piece of cloth and adjusts the steering wheel before sitting down at the helm. I take the seat right next to him. He’s wearing a black windbreaker over jeans, and a pair of Wayfarer with rectangular frame and dark lenses. Even without a cap, he’s the handsomest captain on earth.
Taking Frank’s advice, I wear a long-sleeve cotton shirt over shorts. The morning air is a bit chilly and I sneeze soon after I sit down.
“Are you all right? Are you cold?”
“I’m fine,” I say. “It’s just the allergy.”
He reaches the sundeck and lifts the cushion, pulling out a blanket. “It’ll get windy,” he says as he covers my bare thighs with the blanket.
“Thanks,” I say, feeling warm right away, because of his caring gesture rather than the blanket.
“All aboard!” Frank declares playfully before he steers out of the slip.
I giggle and respond, “Aye, aye, captain!”
We’re going up north all the way to Redding and then back down. It would take us a day.
Frank turns on the stereo and plays a song on his iPhone. It sounds like one of those from the eighties that my parents like to listen.
“Sailing on the Seven Seas, OMD,” he explains. “From my sailing playlist.”
“Oh,” I say, liking it already. “Nice!”
Soon we pass through the residential area and farms and sail into the wetlands. I’ve had a boat trip with my roommates in fall along the river in the metro area, and I loved the experience. But the upper part of the river feels very different. It has more natural scenery and no man-made buildings around. It’s also a lot less crowded. We pass a couple of fishing boats, and no sight-seeing boats at all. It might also have something to do with the home-staying order.
“Look, Megan, herons,” Frank suddenly speaks to me, pointing his chin toward the shore ahead of us.
A flock of wild birds with white feathers and large bills are bathing or feeding on a patch of grassland.
Frank steers his boat closer to the birds and they flap their wings at us. A few of them take off instantly and fly above us, looking like they were going to attack us.
I duck my head laughing and shrieking.
“Don’t be afraid,” he reaches to pat my arm. “They don’t bite. They’re just being friendly.”
Soon the herons leave us alone and we’re into a nearly secluded area covered with dense shrubs along the shores and tree branches extending to the middle of the river.
“Wow,” I exclaim. “This is nice!”
Frank idles the boat toward the shore and then turns off the engine.
“Let’s rest here,” he says, moving out of his seat. He stretches before reaching for the storage compartment.
He passes a bottle of lemonade and a bag of potato chips to me and grabs a bottle of water for himself.
As we’re resting, I see movements under a tree near us. An animal is gnawing at a twig. “Is that a squirrel? What’s it doing?” I ask.
“No, it’s a beaver,” Frank says with a laugh. “It’s chewing wood.”
“Oh!” I giggle. It’s the first time I ever see a beaver. “Do they just chew it or do they actually swallow it?”
“They eat the bark and leave the actual wood alone.”
“Why? That’s so weird.”
“The bark has more nutrients and less tough.”
“I see.”
We watch the beaver as it holds the stick in its mouth, sucking it and licking it. Oh, my. Suddenly my imagination goes wild.
There is a certain stick I would love to do similar things to. I recall the other meaning of beaver and squirm in my seat, suddenly feeling hot. I remove the blanket from my thighs and undo the top buttons of my shirt.
Frank must feel the same because he takes off his windbreaker and places it on the seat behind us. He wears a white cotton t-shirt below.
He must be checking me out under his sunglasses, but I can’t tell. I feel nervous because I can’t read his expressions, but he can see mine. All I know is his jaw is tightly clenched as if he’s fighting against something.
I glance down on his crotch and notice the bulge—his wood. It’s very large and rigid, and I want to taste it. I want to be a naughty beaver. My mouth becomes dry, and I lick my lips.
Frank takes a sip of water and smirks. “What’s on your mind?”
“Nothing,” I say, quickly unscrewing my bottle and drinking from it. The boat sways a bit and the pink juice runs down on my chin and drips onto my cleavage.
“Oops!” I quickly wipe it with the back of my hand.
Frank inhales sharply as he watches me, crushing the plastic bottle in his hand.
I’m suddenly possessed with a wicked idea. I undo one more bu
tton of my shirt and reveal two pairs of red lips, my Nippies of the day to him.
A drop of lemonade is rolling down on the left sticker and I use my thumb to rub it. The lips pucker because what’s beneath gets so hard.
Frank growls. “You’d better stop what you’re doing, Megan.”
He sounds so threatening that I pause right away, but my desire to tease him wins over. I squeeze the lips. “Why? Otherwise, what would you do to me, Frank?”
“Things you can’t imagine.”
I shudder as a shiver runs down my spine. “Sounds dangerous,” I say, but I don’t stop what I’m doing.
He grabs my elbow and pulls me to him. It’s so unexpected that I nearly fall right into him, but he steadies me by placing a hand on my hip. His nose touching the peak of my mound and his breath tickles my skin. My thighs tingle and a warm current rushes down in between.
“Don’t tease me, little girl,” he warns me in a low voice. “Unless you want me to take you right here in my boat.”
I gasp. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
He grinds his teeth. “I never said that. I wanted you the minute I saw you yesterday. My mind is filled with dirty thoughts ever since. I was eating you out even when I was dreaming. Do you know how difficult it is for me? Your parents want me to take care of you, for God’s sake!”
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make it hard for you,” I say, eying his bulge again, thinking how good it would feel. It’ll release the aching in my center.
“Jesus, Megan.” He lets go of my hand and takes off his sunglasses. His eyes narrow as he stares at me intensely. “Behave yourself!”
“What do you mean?” I ask. Gosh. He’s so hot when he’s mad. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Why do you keep checking me out? Do you seriously want an old man to pop your cherry?”
“You’re not an old man,” I say. “But I’ll sit in the back so I can’t look at you.”
I turn to go, but he pulls me back. This time I lose my balance and fall on my knees. My hands are on his lap, inches away from his tent.
I lick my lips again and peek up at him.
