by Dani Wyatt
I’m not sure you are being entirely truthful about thinking my job is sexy, but I’ll take it. Just seeing you type that word has me a little off balance to be honest. And speaking of honest, since I’ve only got a few minutes, the first time I saw you I thought you were the sexiest, most stunning woman I’d ever seen. You knocked me straight out of my socks and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since. I hope I’m not scaring you, but I don’t want to waste words. I feel like I’ve already lost time with you, and I don’t want to make that mistake again.
Another thing, since I’m feeling brave and I want to lay it all out on the table for you. Since the night we met, when I gave you my email address—the day after when I realized you were gone and I had my obligations here—I’ve been writing to you. I guess somewhere deep down I wished so hard that someday I would hear from you. I just wanted you to know I’d been thinking about you every day. So I wrote to you. I kept a notebook with me and I jotted down everything throughout the day, then I put it all down in an email just like we are now. Sharing things about my life, asking you about yours. I’d like to start sending you those messages, so you can read what I wrote to you every day for the last few months. You can answer them if you like, or just read them. It’s up to you.
And just so I’m clear, when I said it’s a bit lonely here, I want you to know I don’t date here. I don’t go out much at all. I’m a runner, so I run a lot to keep myself in shape and my mind clear. And you? What do you do for fun? (That’s my pathetic attempt to find out if you are dating anyone. If you say yes, I can’t promise I won’t quit my job, fly home immediately and punch him in the nose)
So, are you staying alone in your family’s house? If you are, I don’t like that. Do you have deadbolts on the doors? I remember you have a fence around the property and that’s good. Keep the padlock on the front gate, okay? Maybe we can work out a system that you message me whenever you get home at night and let me know you are safe. Do you work? What time do you usually get home?
I know it sounds strange, but I need to know that. I am going to look into having a security system installed in the house. I’ll pay for it, don’t worry about that. It’s not safe for you to be all alone in that big house on that deserted road. Even if you are there with someone, still, I need to know you are safe. I know I’m being a bit pushy about this, but I’m willing to irritate you a bit in order to make you as safe as I can while I’m so far away.
Oh and as far as the puppy? I think that is great. You are sweet and kind and I’m sure you will raise a proper, polite puppy. Can I ask you one favor? I’d like you to tell me all about him (or her). Keep a puppy raising sort of journal. I don’t know why, but I’d like to be part of that with you somehow. You probably think I am a complete nut by now, but as long as you keep writing me back I don’t care.
Okay, unfortunately I’m in the middle of a huge project at work which is incredibly time sensitive. I’m going to start sending you those emails I wrote to you from the day I got here, okay?
Send me pictures of the puppy (and if I’m incredibly lucky, you will be in them as well). Maybe I can call you sometime? I’d love to hear your voice and I will need your phone number so the security company can contact you about getting the system installed.
Sweet dreams,
Griffin
P.S. I have to know everything about ukuleleprincess. You intrigue me more every day. So, spill it about this ukulele...
I’m not sure how to sign off. I almost wrote, ‘Love, Griffin,’ but I’m already afraid she will run scared from all the innuendo and other craziness she’s bringing out in me. I hate being so far away. I feel possessive of her. I want to make sure she is safe when she goes to bed at night. Make sure no one is watching her or getting too close to her. I’m not sure what exactly, but I want to protect her.
That thought, that another man might be putting his eyes on her, has my heart slamming around in my chest as I slap my laptop closed. The sooner I get a security system installed, the better. A moment later I’m running back into the building and up the steps. I hate being so far away. I feel so out of control and it’s burning me up inside.
When I do get my hands on her, I’m never letting her go. My dick is throbbing and the ache inside of me reminds me how long I’ve waited for this. I want her, all of her. I want her bound to me in every way possible, even if it means getting a baby inside her as soon as possible.
And that thought has me shaking my head as I drop down into my desk chair gasping for air. I’ve never thought of anything like that before, but now that I have, my mind is swimming with thoughts of sinking inside her, thrusting until she’s filled with me. My cum spurting into her until her belly is round and everyone knows I’m the one that made her that way.
Rodrick looks at me for a long moment as I settle back in and tap my password on the keyboard.
“You okay?” He laughs at my exasperated state.
“I’m good. Let’s do this. I need to get home.”
“Dude.” His eyebrows are raised.
“What?” I’m panting, staring at him as he looks back shaking his head.
“You don’t have my coffee.”
C H A P T E R T E N
TALIA
“Another party of ten?” My feet are numb and I’m ready to fall over backwards. Highland House is jam packed tonight with rich people enjoying the summer, and I was up until three in the morning talking to Griffin as usual, then I couldn’t fall asleep. He’s been working on some sort of secret project, and over the last couple weeks our conversations have moved from mostly email to more and more phone calls. He’s also managed to get me on Skype once, but my internet connection at the house is not great, so it was an epic fail but we had a good laugh at my lack of technical skills. But, during our phone call last night, for the first time, the conversation turned a corner and he ended up telling me some of the things he thinks about. Things he wants to do to me and it got steamy.
A lot steamy.
What do you like? I mean, when you touch yourself.
I don’t really know.
I can’t wait to help you find out. Let me tell you what I’d like to do...
Our very first phone call was about a week ago. He was so sweet and I was so nervous. I’ve played it over and over in my mind a thousand times already.
After our initial nervous greetings, I remember the way his voice had lowered, he’d cleared his throat three times then finally spoke again.
“So, I need to get something straight.” He’d said as my pulse raced.
“Okay.” He sounded so serious, my stomach turned up and over, sure there was bad news ready to be delivered.
“I’m not just playing pen pal here. I need to tell you, first, I’m fucking serious about us. I know, I know that maybe this is unconventional and moving fast, but from the second I saw you, I knew you were meant to be part of my life, Wildflower. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I think so.”
“And the other thing, just because I do not like to leave anything to chance. You are exclusively with me. If there is another dude that is looking at you more than a glance, I want to know. If any motherfucker,” He’s talking faster, a hardness in his voice makes me shiver, “touches you or fucking talks to you in anything other than a professional polite manner, you tell me, yes? I can’t stand thinking of anyone else even looking at you. And I’m so fucking far away. You’re mine, do you get what I’m saying?”
I’m stunned by his words. “I get it.” Part of me thinks I should tell him I’m no one’s property, that I can take care of myself and I don’t appreciate his assumptions about to whom I may belong. But I don’t. Because I’m listening to his words and they are hitting me in all the right places. Places that are not incredibly wet.
“Good.” I hear him taking a deep breath and a smile spreads across my face and down into my heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize this, but I’m one jealous motherfucker.”
“I need to tell you something.” It might be too much information and I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”
“What? Jesus, Talia, what?” Desperation covers every word.
“It’s just, you just made my panties very wet.” Even I couldn’t believe it when I said it, but something about him makes me lose all my inhibitions. And his reaction was more than enough reward.
“Talia?”
“Yes,” I whisper, tense and unsure that was the right move.
“You just made me the happiest man in the world. Tell me again, tell me a thousand times I just made you wet...”
That was our first phone call, and although they’ve not been occurring every day, when we do talk the conversation eventually turns a bit steamy and I have to say, I look forward to those parts of our talks very, very much.
I’ve been sending him pictures as well—nothing seedy, just casual snaps. Okay, a couple with some skin, not much, but he begged and honestly, I loved it. It’s exhilarating, the way he sounds so rapt. A girl could get used to this sort of attention.
I’ve sent him recordings of my music too. Katie had to show me how to do that, but once I explained ukulele princess to him, he wanted to hear my voice and hear me playing. He was fascinated when I explained I’d taught myself to play. For me it didn’t seem like a big deal. I have acres of sheet music and my mom taught me piano, and it just translated to the ukulele. He says I have a gift, but I’m not so sure.
When I told him I adopted a little terror whom I named Zeus, as he seems to think that he rules the world, I sent Griffin the first picture the day I went to the shelter. That night his email reply was a picture of him clutching his chest with the caption.
“My heart can’t take it. You are absolutely perfect. I barely noticed the puppy, but he’s pretty darn cute, too. You’ve got me captivated, Wildflower. Send more, it’s the only cure for this pain in my chest (to be honest, you are causing me some significant pains in other parts of my body, but I’m fairly certain if you send more pictures I will feel much better).”
I’m not really sure what the ‘Wildflower’ nickname is all about, but somehow it seems to just fit. I can’t explain it, but I’ve accepted that it’s his name for me. It feels special, like it’s something just for us.
I’m so lost in my thoughts, I jump a foot when Katie’s dad, Larry, leans close to talk in my ear over the voices and general loudness of the restaurant. “Sorry, Talia, it’s just your section has the only open table big enough. You can handle it. Besides, big table, big tips.” Then leaves giving me a sympathetic wink.
I pull up my shoulders and suck in my stomach. The skirt I’m wearing is digging in and I knew when I put it on before work that it was too small. I wish I’d just stuck with my black stretch pants. But old habits die hard, and after wearing skirts from as far back as I can remember, there is still a twitch of discomfort when I wear any sort of pants, especially out in public. My father’s stupid voice still bounces around inside my head, shaming me for things that are not shameful.
Speaking of shameful, since Griffin and I have been exchanging emails, and now phone calls, I’ve discovered some new feelings and I’m fairly sure they would fall on the shameful side of my father’s scale. Although, for whatever reason, I don’t feel ashamed. But I sure know my father would be horrified.
Especially last night, when Griffin asked me if I ever touched myself when I think about us. Much to my own surprise, I was honest and told him yes. He immediately gave me some insight into his own self-pleasuring activities, and I have to say I was turned on. So turned on, in fact, I ended up with my fingers playing between my legs while he said some very racy things to me over the phone.
But orgasms have proven elusive by my own hand. Griffin is intent on solving that little problem and if his enthusiasm is any indication, I trust he will follow through on his promise.
I grab the plates of food off the ready counter above the cook’s line and grunt as I lift the tray to my shoulder. Who knew waitressing would be such a workout? But, I think I’m actually good at it. I like being around people. I’ve got eighteen years of not being around people, so this is fun for me. Even the grouchy patrons, the ones that no matter what I do they don’t seem to smile and I can’t make them happy – even they don’t bother me. I’ve been walking around with a perpetual smile on my face and it matches the warm glowing feelings that have invaded almost all of my girl parts as well as my heart.
I make my way through the crowd and serve the table, smiling and chatting about this and that, making sure they have everything they need before making my way to the new full table of ten to take their drink orders.
I tug at my skirt, absently reaching behind to undo the top button because I can hardly breathe. Just as I manage that, I look up and find that the table is filled with a group of young men and women around my own age. I work my way toward the head of the table, standing behind a young woman with her back to me, grab my pen and order pad and start to ask for their drink order when I hear the snicker and my name.
“Well, hello there, Talia.” Amanda smirks up at me, leaning back and to her right so she can look up into my face. “I see you’re back in town. How nice. I heard you left in a hurry.”
She turns to the other girls that I now recognize from that night. My face burns hot, and I expect to feel embarrassed, but to my shock and surprise I don’t. Instead I’m just pissed, so I ignore her and turn to my left to the guy sitting at the head of the table.
“What can I get you to drink?” I ask, syrupy sweet, turning my rear end right into Amanda’s direction. Let her look at that for a minute.
I get the drink orders from the rest of the table, even smiling at Rebecca and Sonja, the other two girls from that night, when they order rum and Coke. I ask for their IDs, and watch their faces turn red as they change their orders to just Coke.
“And for you, ma’am?” I look at the wall in front of me instead of at Amanda, but she knows it’s her turn for me to take her order anyway.
“Just water,” she says with disdain peppering her words. “How do you like working for tips?”
I’m still a bit confused that she puts so much energy into disliking me. Honestly, something must be wrong with her. How could one little incident like the one we had in choir elicit this sort of negativity. I get it; I’m the girl that seems to draw that out in people, but come on, we’re not twelve years old anymore. I’m proud when I let out a disinterested sigh and answer her.
“I like it just fine. How do you like your water? Icy or lukewarm?” She needs to know her snide remarks don’t bother me.
Because I plan on pouring it over your head.
I don’t wait for her answer before I walk away. Larry is already looking at me from where he’s standing near the kitchen.
“Hey.” He tips his head to come toward him. “Why don’t you trade tables with Margaret? She just got a six top over in section C; she can finish with the ten and you can have hers.” He knows Amanda and he knows all about what happened that night. He’s always been kind to me, and now that I’m on my own and working here, his paternal nature has broadened.
“No. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” I smile, because what I said is true. I’m not letting her get to me.
“You’re tougher than you look, Talia. I’m proud of you. If they give you any trouble though, you come and tell me, okay? No reason for you to take abuse from anyone, I don’t care who their families are.”
I smile as he gives me a quick squeeze on my shoulder.
The rest of the night goes off without a hitch. Amanda tries to get a few digs in, but I just ignore them. It’s only when she finally brings up Griffin that I stiffen.
“Griff texted me last night,” she says across the table to her friends as I set down her plate of grilled sea bass and asparagus. She’s looking their way, but I know she’s talking to me. “Said he’s having an absolute ball in Berlin. Said the German girls are very, very friendly, if you know what I me
an.”
My stomach does a flip as she taps the front of her phone and up comes a picture on the screen. Griffin and a tall, smiling blonde, outside a bar with a German sign. Griffin told me after that night at Amanda’s house, he’d gone in and given all those girls a piece of his mind, but from what I’m seeing, he’s still in contact with Amanda at least. How else would she have that picture of him?
“You know how he likes to string them along, the dirty boy. He plays the part so well. It’s almost a sickness with him. Derrick told me he’s been playing his little games even more since he left. Seems he has women hooked onto his smooth talk on two continents now.”
I swallow hard, finish serving the dinner orders to everyone and slip away with a growing sense of panic. My ears are ringing. Just how little I know about Griffin and what he is or could be doing floods over me. Who am I fooling? Is this some sort of sick game he’s playing?
The rest of the night is a blur. I just want to go home, but I don’t want to either. Griffin’s email will surely be there waiting for me and for the first time since we started emailing each other, I don’t want to read it.
I’ve even been sending him my journal entries as well. After he told me he’d been writing me emails every day since he left, I couldn’t believe it. I told him about the journal I had been keeping, explained that I’d started it that next day after my dad moved us away. We both said it was some kind of sign. I thought it was. I thought we were meant for each other. But now, I’m shivering, wondering if I’m just the butt of some other sort of sick joke.
By midnight I’m home, my palms sweating. I know now what heart palpitations feel like. I got off at the restaurant around eleven and I’ve become quite a night owl like Katie said I would working this job.
For the fifth time, I pull the top upward on my laptop, then click it closed again with a groan. My fingers knead though my hair as I hold my head, elbows on either side of the computer, rocking slightly back and forth.
