Second Chance Baby

by Natasha L. Black

  I laid her gently on the bed, and she unclasped her legs to scoot back to the pillows. As she made her way there, she hooked her hands under the waistband of her pants and pulled them off. Lying there, her hair spread over a pillow and her slender, smooth legs parted and waiting for me, I marveled at the beauty of her. Taking my shirt off, I tossed it somewhere in the vicinity of the door and unhooked the button of my pants. As I slowly undressed, I kept eye contact with her, but when my boxers dropped down, her eyes wandered down with them, and she slid a delicate hand with long, thin fingers to her core. As my cock sprung out, thick and long, hard and straining, she touched herself.

  I placed one knee on the bed, grasping the base of my cock in one hand and stroked while I watched her. Seeing her pleasure herself at the sight of my body was exhilarating and only heightened the tension in the room. I made my way to her slowly, and when I reached her open legs, slid between them. She was writhing on the bed, her finger swirling over her clit, biting her bottom lip as she edged herself toward a climax before I even touched her.

  Sticking my thumb into my mouth to wet it, I pulled it away and pushed her hand aside. Pressing my thumb into her clit gently, I began to repeat the motion she had before, and she cried out. I settled between her thighs, and the head of my cock positioned itself at her opening. Pressing just a little so the tip went into her wet, pulsing pussy, I continued to rub her clit. Her back arched up as I slowly penetrated her, and when I was halfway in, she reached out, clasping me by my ass and slamming me into her.

  The sound of her climax was illicit and raw, and I held myself there, applying pressure to her clit while my cock sat deep inside of her, letting her pulse and stretch and vibrate around me. Her mouth opened, but no sound came forth, and I curled down to kiss her neck. The touch of her naked breasts on my chest as I smothered on top of her was soft and inviting. I managed to slide even deeper in her, and she cried out in a small yipping noise by my ear. I held her there, hands firmly grasped around her hips as I covered her skin between her collarbone and jaw with my kiss.

  Suddenly, she shifted under me, and I realized she was trying to turn me on my back. Amused, I followed the lead, and she giggled as she sat atop me. Reaching down to grab the sheets, she pulled them up and over us, so the world suddenly was pitched into darkness, and the heat and aroma of our bodies was all that was available outside of the sensation of our skin. She sat down more fully, and I moaned at the rocking of her hips, my hands sliding over her body, touching as much of her as I could.

  In the darkness I couldn’t see her, but I relaxed into the comfort of the mattress as she peppered me with kisses to my chest and neck, her hips rocking on me, my cock covered in her juices. We stayed there for some time, her curled on top of me, my arms around her as she rode me, our lips occasionally finding one another and our tongues tasting each other.

  Then her body began to rock faster, a determination in her movements belying a need, a desperation for release again. I clasped her by the ass and guided her movements as she rose up and slammed down onto me again and again. She was nearing another climax, and I wanted to be strong and ready for her. To please her. To take care of her.

  Yanking the sheets back off her, she sat up, her hips still rocking, but now more back and forth than up and down. The sudden reveal of light on her bouncing breasts and pink, puffy lips was nearly all I could take. I slid one hand up to her breast, and she clasped it, holding it over her nipple and encouraging me to squeeze. I let my other hand trail up to match the other side, and she dipped her head down, taking the index finger of one hand into her mouth. She sucked on it as she rode, and I moaned loudly.

  I was getting close, and so was she. The moment was near, and I was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to sit up. As I did, our mouths crushed together for a deep kiss, and her hips began to slam back and forth. Ava dug her fingers into my shoulders as she rode me hard, and the sounds that came from her got shorter, louder, and more desperate for release. I slid one hand down her backside, letting one finger claim space in the crack of her ass as I pulled her into me. I took one breast into my mouth again, sucking hard on her as she cried out in ecstasy and effort.

  Her legs began to shake, and she screamed out as she came, and my body responded, following her. I exploded deep inside her as she sank down hard on my pulsing cock. My breath came out in pieces, heavy and with a deep guttural sound beneath it. Her jaw was slack and her eyes clenched shut as her head threw back in the moment of intense pleasure. I pulled her hard into me as I came, pulsing and pulsing as her body milked me, stroked me until I felt I had none left to give, and I clenched her tight to my chest.

  Kissing up the center of her, I found her lips again, and we embraced once more, the tension gone and only the warm afterglow of the incredible orgasm surrounding us both. I pulled her as I fell backward, and she curled into the crook of my arm, cooing as she settled into place. I kissed the top of her head as she shifted, letting one leg drape over me, our bodies as close as they could possibly be.

  I didn’t want to go into work that night, but they insisted. When we got there, I led her into the office and told her to sit down.

  “Why?” she asked, laughing.

  “You shouldn’t be running around the bar and doing so much. You should be taking it easier. I can tell you’re still tired. Are you still feeling sick?” I asked.

  She smiled and cupped my face, kissing me.

  “I’m doing much better,” she said. “If I’m tired, I’ll sit down. But I want to work for as long as possible.”

  I grinned. “I can deal with that.”

  35

  Ava

  “You are the only person who could come up with bar as the theme for a theme night at a bar and somehow make it work,” Tyler said.

  I looked at him over my shoulder as I strung lights near the ceiling.

  “Is that an insult?” I asked.

  “No,” he said. “I really do think it works. I’m just amazed that you not only came up with that, but that you had the balls to actually go through with it and make it into our next event. That’s really impressive.”

  “Please don’t talk about my girlfriend’s balls,” Mason said, coming out of the kitchen with Jesse.

  “Actually, can we all stop?” I asked. “This conversation is getting a bit too weird for me.”

  Mason crossed the room and rested his hand on the ladder I was standing on. He looked up at me, and I could see the worry in his eyes.

  “Do you really have to be up there?” he asked.

  “The lights are important,” I said. “Remember, the whole point of the theme is to turn the bar into…”

  “Another bar?” Tyler asked.

  “I have had quite enough of your attitude, mister,” I said, and Tyler laughed.

  “Somebody else can do that,” Mason said. “You shouldn’t be up on a ladder like that.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “Does being pregnant suddenly preclude me from being able to stand on a ladder and hang lights?”

  “No, but what if you lost your balance?”

  “I could have lost my balance at any point during any of the times I have climbed up on ladders in my life,” I said.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Mason said. “But you weren’t pregnant during those times. Come on, just let somebody help you.”

  “I thought you liked how independent I am.”

  “And I thought you liked how much I want to protect and take care of you,” Mason said.

  “All right, you win,” I said. I reached down for his shoulders and let Mason pick me up off the ladder and gently place me on my feet. He then climbed up to the top and continued hanging the lights.

  I had arrived at The Hollow even earlier than usual to set up for the event that night. It had been a couple of weeks since Mason found out about the baby, and I was happy to feel like we had really found our groove again. That included hosting our wildly popular theme nights.

  After the tremendous s
uccess of the other events, I wanted to come up with something that was completely new and different. It had to be something nobody would expect, something that none of the other bars or clubs had thought of doing. That was when the idea formed in my head. We would actually become another bar.

  Rather than it just having an event meant to transport our customers out of the bar and into something else, like the black-and-white event or the country night, I envisioned putting them in a totally new bar environment. The twist being it would also be deliciously retro. Several screenings of the movie Cocktail later, I was ready to make my vision into a reality.

  Part of that vision was the “battle of the bartenders” competition we were staging between Miranda and me. It would give the guests the opportunity to interact, create some fun drama, and hopefully sell a lot of drinks as well. Miranda, Tyler, and I headed over to a corner so we could talk through the details of the showdown.

  “So, are you ready for tonight?” I asked.

  She nodded but didn’t look completely sure of the situation. “I am, I’m just a little nervous.”

  “Why are you nervous?” I asked.

  “I’m used to interacting with the customers on more of a one-on-one basis,” she said. “I’ve never really performed.”

  “Every one of those interactions is a performance,” I said. “This is just on a bigger scale. You are a fantastic bartender. The customers love you, and you make great drinks. You are going to do so well, and you’re going to have a blast, which is the most important part. Speaking of drinks, do you have yours planned?”

  “I’m pretty sure I do. I’ve been trying out a bunch of different recipes, and I think I’ve settled on the one I like the most. Do we get to name these things, or are we just describing them to the customers?” she asked.

  “Neither,” I said. “That’s the fun of it. They are just going to be two mystery drinks. Customers who want to be a part of the challenge have to try both drinks, then vote on the one they like the most. We are going to have smaller-sized versions of the drinks to purchase for the challenge itself, and full-sized ones for people who want to order more of one or the other once they’ve tried it.”

  “That sounds good,” Miranda said. “Have you settled on your recipe, yet?”

  “Well, I haven’t. I can’t exactly sit around and taste a bunch of cocktails right at this point in my life. But I’ve been using Mason, Matt, and Tyler as my guinea pigs. They’ve helped me narrow it down to the recipe they like the most,” I said.

  “Not Jesse?” Miranda asked.

  He had just come out of the kitchen with a platter of samples of the food he was making for that night. He set the platter down on the bar and lifted his hands up to show his innocence.

  “I respectfully abstain,” he said. “I’m not picking sides.”

  “Are you going to participate in the challenge?” Miranda asked.

  “Yes. But I want it to be legit. I can’t hear anything about either one of the drinks or see either one of them near either one of you. It would taint my objectivity,” he said. “I want to taste them just like everybody else and make my final determination.”

  He went back into the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but wonder which one of us he would be voting for if his objectivity really was compromised.

  “Okay, so this is how it’s going to work. Each of us is going to take the ingredients to our drinks and transfer them into separate, unmarked bottles. That way people can’t be unduly influenced by seeing the specific type of liquor we’re choosing. We are also going to be pouring the drinks into black cups. That way nobody can be influenced by the color of the drink.”

  “You really thought this all the way out, didn’t you?” Tyler asked.

  “Well, as you have so delicately and eloquently pointed out several times, this night is a little bit different than the other ones. But I want to make sure that it is just as successful. Which means we have to go all in on it. Self-awareness and total dedication to the atmosphere all the way.”

  All of us scurried to do the last-minute preparations for the event, and just like always, by the time we opened up the doors, there was already a line going across the patio and out onto the sidewalk. We had hired a guy to be a bouncer for the night, thinking it would be fun to add another element to the whole idea of us being in a different bar. As I watched him work, I wondered if adding security like that on a permanent basis might not be a terrible idea.

  I didn’t have much time to dwell on that. Before I knew it, the entire bar was surrounded, and Mason was shouting out to everybody, explaining the bartender showdown to them. Miranda and I looked at each other and giggled. We were both pumped. Even though we were supposed to be competing with each other, there was no animosity. We were both just excited to have fun together.

  I could still see how nervous she was, and after what she told me the day she apologized for spilling the baby news, I knew she was feeling worried about fitting in and being accepted. I wished she could see herself the way we saw her. When we watched her work, all we saw was confidence and skill.

  She had a bright smile and fast, efficient hands. She worked so seamlessly, it was hard to imagine she actually didn’t feel settled and secure. It struck me that she had probably spent most of her adult life trying to fit in and feel like a part of whatever group she found herself in. That touched my heart, and I found myself liking her even more. I wanted her to be one of us just like she did.

  Even if she was still nervous when the showdown began, Miranda quickly blossomed. She relaxed and started really enjoying herself. Soon we were mixing drinks, chatting up the customers, and exchanging silly, teasing trash talk. It didn’t take long for all of the allotted number of samples to be handed out.

  Mason took that as an opportunity to come behind the bar and call the attention of everyone who would listen.

  “We are going to take a few minutes to tally up the votes, then we’ll be right back here to announce the winner.”

  He jumped down from where he was standing and took my hand.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as he pulled me along behind him.

  “I thought we could get some air.”

  We went out into the back parking lot, and he immediately spun me into his arms for a kiss. I laughed. “I thought we were out here for air.”

  “Your kisses are like my oxygen.”

  I rolled my eyes and gagged. “Wow. That was really bad.”

  “Was it?” he asked, tickling me and nuzzling his face into the curve of my neck. “Was it?”

  I giggled and squealed, trying to pull away from him at the same time I held myself against him for more.

  “This was fun,” I said. “Maybe we should have little competitions like this more often. If people like it, of course.”

  “They’re having a blast,” Mason said. “I was listening in on people talking about the drinks and comparing them. It was awesome. I think you’re going to win.”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. Miranda is a really amazing bartender. I think at best it’s going to be a tie. I don’t even know what her drink tastes like!”

  “I do. I’ve tried them both, and I can tell you that I think yours is the best,” he said.

  “Thank you,” I said, hugging him close again. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too. Come on. Let’s go back inside. The votes are probably just about tallied,” Mason said.

  We went inside, and a few moments later, Matt came out of the back to announce the results.

  “And the winner of tonight’s Battle of the Bartenders is… Ava!”

  The bar erupted in cheers, and Miranda gathered me up in a hug. “Congratulations!”

  “Thank you,” I said. “But I’m sure your cocktail was delicious. And I want to try one just as soon as I can.”

  “Absolutely,” Miranda said. She lifted her voice a little to add a bit more show for the customers. “And I’m going to get you at the next one.”

  I sm
iled at her. “Bring it on.”

  36

  Mason

  Everyone was still buzzing about the theme night several days later. It had been enough of a success that we were already planning to do it again sometime soon. But for that night, we were going for something a bit calmer with another trivia night. I knew Ava loved trivia nights not just because she happened to be a fan of trivia, but also because it was a slower, quieter pace than the usual nights, and definitely calmer than the theme night.

  I was having a blast with the special events, and I was so amazed to see how much the bar was growing and succeeding on normal nights. But continuing to work as hard as she did while also getting through this pregnancy was harder on Ava than she seemed to expect it to be. That night, she was feeling particularly worn-out. I walked her up to the small stage we’d constructed at the front of the bar and sat her down on the recliner I brought in after last trivia night.

  I’d brought it in as a joke, but Ava was all about it. Running a trivia night just meant asking questions and keeping track of who gave the right answer. That didn’t require her to be any more active and engaged than sitting in the recliner and enjoying some downtime. If the crowd was particularly low, she could even recruit one of the us to be the score keeper so all she needed to do was read and pay enough attention to determine if whoever answered was right.

  Ava let out a deep sigh as she sank into the recliner. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes and seemed to be focusing on breathing.

  Worry jumped up inside me. This was not an unfamiliar sensation. In fact, it had become an almost daily experience. Every time I saw Ava look tired or like something was bothering her, I was immediately in a near panic. That was how I learned the interesting lesson at that you could be both over the moon excited about something, and completely terrified of it at the same time.

  I hurried back over to the recliner and crouched down beside her. I ran my hand over her head and leaned down for a kiss.