Growing and Kissing

by Helena Newbury

  “And you can get it just right.” A statement, not a question.

  She nodded. Then blushed. “I mean, you know, the stuff I did in college gives me a big advantage. Most of the growers don’t have that background—they’re just fumbling around in the dark. It’s not me. I’m nothing special.”

  I just stared at her. She honestly believed that. She flushed again under my gaze, but I couldn’t look away.

  “I should start planting,” she said at last. “I’ve got a lot to do.”

  I moved back a little from the table and watched as she took the first pot, filled it with a carefully-measured mix of soils and fertilizers, and transferred the seedling into it. There was something incredibly restful about watching her work: the seriousness of her expression as she measured, the total joy in her face as she sunk her pale fingers into the dark earth. I could tell she was completely absorbed—I’d ceased to exist. And that meant I could watch her as much as I wanted. I could take in the hanging curls of her copper-colored hair as they bounced against her cheeks and the smudge of dirt she left on her nose as she brushed them out of the way. I could watch her creamy breasts bounce and sway in her scoop-neck top as she leaned over the plant and imagine running my hands over her ripe, curving ass through the tight denim of her jeans.

  I would have happily watched her all night but, after the fifth plant, she suddenly remembered I was there and said, “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be here for hours.”

  I nodded and headed for the door. I knew the smart thing to do was to leave—I was too into her, too close to losing control and doing something stupid. I put my hand on the door handle. And then, out of nowhere, I heard myself say: “Or...you could show me what to do and I could help.”

  Louise

  He looked as surprised as I felt, as if he hadn’t realized he was going to say it until the words were out. We stared at each other for several seconds.

  “Okay,” I said at last. I’d brought a couple of stools from my place just so we had something to sit on. I pulled up one for myself and sat down, then pulled up one for him right next to me.

  Sean walked around the tables and sat down. We were so close, we were almost touching.

  I slid a seedling and a pot along the table to him, the scrape of plastic on wood very loud in the silent room. “Start by measuring out the mix,” I told him. “One cup of this, half a cup of this, one cup of this.” I demonstrated. Why are my hands shaking?

  “Make a hole with your fingers,” I said, pressing two fingers into the cool, soft earth. Next to me, I watched him form two fingers into a probe. “You probably just need one finger,” I mumbled. “Your hands are big.”

  He eased his thick finger into the soil. I swallowed.

  “Is that deep enough?”

  “Yes. Plenty deep enough.”

  He stopped.

  “Now ease out your seedling and carefully clear most of the dirt away from the roots.”

  He lifted out his seedling and started to knock at its roots with a finger.

  “Gently! You don’t want to damage the roots.”

  He frowned. “I’m not good at gentle.” He turned a little and caught my eye. My heartbeat had turned into a bass drum boom that shook my whole body—slow, but gathering speed.

  “I’ll help you,” I said. I stood, scraping my stool on the floor, and stepped behind him, putting my arms around him so that I could guide him. But immediately, I realized my mistake: he was so big, I couldn’t easily reach around. Not without getting very, very close.

  Too late now. I stepped right up to him. My pubis grazed his back through my jeans and I caught my breath. As I leaned forward, my stomach and then my lower chest and finally my breasts made contact with his back. I slid my head next to his, our cheeks inches apart. I could smell the clean, outdoor smell of him, like the air after a storm, and feel his back rise and fall beneath me as he breathed.

  “Just brush at it,” I told him, trying to focus. The roots were like tiny hairs and I was staring at his thick, powerful fingers as they touched them. I stroked the roots with my own fingers to demonstrate. Every time I moved, even the slightest amount, my breasts shifted against his back. I could feel my nipples hardening, pressing out through my bra and top to rasp against his muscles. He tried brushing again and immediately, I was hypnotized by the sight of his two big fingertips stroking along the roots— “Careful,” I mumbled. “It’s really sensitive.”

  “Sensitive?” His voice was a rumble I felt through my whole body.

  I flushed. “Delicate.”

  He carefully put the seedling down.

  My voice sounded almost drunk. “Why are you—”

  He twisted around, his back and then his front sliding across my breasts. And suddenly his lips were almost brushing mine.

  Louise

  Even that almost-contact was enough to send ripples of excitement straight through my body, all the way to my toes. I hadn’t fully understood how much I’d been needing him—aching for him—until that second. My whole body stiffened against him and I felt the heat of him throbbing into my groin and breasts.

  I’m not sure if he leaned closer or I did. We were now so close I could feel his breath against my lips and with every slow exhale I sank deeper into an intoxicating darkness where anything could happen.

  And it hit me that I couldn’t let it.

  I staggered sideways, away from him. We stared at each other and I saw the dark, animal lust in his eyes.

  “I have to go,” I croaked. And ran.

  Sean

  Shit.

  I was still reeling from the almost-kiss. My whole body was coiled and tense with the need to grab her, hold her.

  Another half second and I would have been kissing her. Another ten and I would have slammed her down on the table and torn that scoop neck top right down the middle, baring her to me.

  But now everything had gone wrong. Before I could even get up, Louise had slipped out of the door and off into the night. The thought of her out there, alone, was what finally gave me enough of a jolt to shake off my stupor and jump up—so fast I knocked over the table. The seedlings we’d been so carefully planting crashed to the floor, spilling fantails of soil.

  Outside, I looked up and down the street but there was no sign of her. Shit! She didn’t have her car with her—I’d driven us here, today. What if someone had been watching the house and had grabbed her when they saw her alone? What if she’d run into some gang who didn’t know she was with me? What if—

  On my second check of the street, I finally saw her: walking on the dark side of the street where the streetlights were broken. Her natural reaction was to hide herself away, to disappear, not realizing that just put her in more danger. Out here in the darkness, her pale skin made her look even more vulnerable. We needed to talk...but first, I needed to make sure she was safe.

  I raced across the street and caught up with her. “Louise!”

  Her shoulders tensed but she kept walking. That’s when I grabbed her arm.

  She yelped, pulled up short and spun around, eyes wide with fear. My heart leapt into my throat. I didn’t want to be that guy—not with any woman but especially not with her. Both of us looked at my big, clumsy hand encircling her slender arm. I opened it, releasing her, but now there was a dirty mark on that smooth, milky skin from my soil-covered fingers.

  “You can’t walk home alone,” I muttered. “It’s not safe.”

  She was breathing fast, looking up into my eyes with an expression I couldn’t read. You’re safe with me, I wanted to say. I swear, you’re safe with me. But I’d just proved she wasn’t, hadn’t I? I’d betrayed her trust and tried to kiss her, and she’d run, just like I’d always feared.

  “I can take care of myself,” she said, her voice quavering a little.

  “Not in this neighborhood!” It came out harsher than I’d meant it to. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.” I took a step back towards the house but she stayed stubbornly where she was
. “For fuck’s sake!” I snapped, “Let me take care of you!”

  We stood there staring into each other’s eyes. I felt my gaze soften. She glanced away and then cautiously back at me, as if wondering whether she could trust me again. Jesus, I’m an idiot. What have I done? I wanted her more than ever, but seeing her out here in the street had brought back all my fears. What if she decided she needed to go it alone, after this? I thought of what was coming: meeting a dealer, protecting the crop as it grew. She’d last a week, without me. Just please let her come with me, I offered up to whoever was listening. I swear I’ll never try anything again.

  Louise let out a long breath...and started walking back towards the house. I fell in beside her, my legs shaky with relief. I was only just realizing how much I’d come to care for her—it overpowered everything else, even the need to kiss her, to touch her, to have that luscious body twisting and writhing against mine.

  I quickly locked up the house and we climbed into my car. We didn’t talk at all on the way to our apartment block, or on the way up the stairs, or even when we got to her front door. As she went inside, I opened my mouth to say something...but I couldn’t find any words. I was replaying the nearly-kiss over and over in my head. I’d thought she’d wanted it but then she’d run. Had I driven her away forever? Did she hate me?

  The door closed behind her. Fuck. I wish I knew what she was thinking.

  Louise

  I pressed my back against the door. I had no freaking idea what to think. God, I’d wanted him so bad. I hadn’t let myself admit how much until he nearly kissed me. It had been building for days and I was at least as much to blame for it as him. I’d done the one thing I’d been promising myself I wouldn’t. I’d jeopardized everything. I couldn’t get involved with someone like him. I was just a tourist in his world: six months and I’d be out, back to my normal, safe world with Kayley. I couldn’t bring him into my life...however good it felt. We needed to somehow get back to being just business partners.

  Then I looked down and saw the dark mark on my arm where he’d grabbed me. Something about it made the heat swell inside me and then plunge down to my groin. The essence of what he was, brutal and dangerous, was what kept me backing away from him. But it was exactly what drew me in, too. Jesus, what if I hadn’t pulled away? Would I have wound up on his lap, feeling the hard press of his cock through his jeans? Would he have tipped me back, my hair hanging down to the floor as he tongued my breasts?

  I pressed my ass hard against the door, imagining him kissing me...then his hands cupping my breasts and squeezing, then sliding down my body...one hand going under my jeans and then my panties like that, stroking through the hair and the sensitive skin beneath, leaving me gasping. And then further down, his thick wrist stretching out the front of my jeans, those strong fingers hooking underneath, finding me, parting me, like this—

  There was a loud knock at the door. Since I had my whole body grinding up against it like a cat in heat, the vibration went right through me. I jumped away from it, pulling my hand from my jeans and panting in shock. I put my eye to the door viewer and—

  Oh Jesus, he’s still there! He’d been standing there the whole time!

  I felt my face heating up. Had he heard? Had I moaned something? Had I been banging my hips against the door?

  I slowly opened the door a hand’s width, putting on my best poker face. But as soon as I looked into his eyes, I went weak inside. I thought he was going to push open the door and grab me right there. God, does he know what I was just doing?

  He seemed to wrestle himself under control. When he spoke, his voice was carefully neutral. “What time do you want to start, tomorrow?” he asked. “We’ve got a lot of planting to do.”

  I just stared at him.

  His eyes said please.

  He’d realized it had been a mistake. And he wanted me to know that he knew. He was trying to tell me that it was all going to be okay, that he would keep his distance.

  I nodded slowly. “Okay,” I said. Then, “Two. I’ll meet you there.”

  I saw the relief on his face...but I could see the frustration there, too, only just outweighed. “Okay,” he said.

  I closed the door. We were back to just business partners, exactly as I’d wanted.

  So why did it feel like I was having something ripped away from me?

  April

  Louise

  The days quickly became a routine. I’d visit Kayley at the hospital so I could be with her for her chemo. I sat beside her as the chemicals flowed into her body, trying to distract her with books and videos and chat. I held her hair out of the way and stroked her back while she threw up. I sat there silently raging, wishing I could do something, wave a wand, and magically make her better. And when the visit was over, I never wanted to leave. I had to keep telling myself that the most useful thing I could do was grow the crop, make the money, and get her to Switzerland. So I’d drive to work, do my shift, then drive to the grow house.

  There, I’d check every plant in turn. The seedlings were growing steadily, soaking up the light from the huge banks of lights and drinking in the filtered water and carefully-measured fertilizer I gave them. Monitoring them and adjusting the mixes took hours but I found I relished the challenge. I even rigged up sensors to send a text message to my phone if the temperature got too high or too low. This was the one thing I could do to really help my sister, the one shot she had. So, goddamn it, I was going to do it right.

  Then, about a week into April, the hospital called and told me I needed to get there now. I rushed over there, tires squealing, heart in my mouth.

  Dr. Huxler stopped me outside Kayley’s room. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think it would start this soon. Normally it takes at least a couple of weeks, but the treatments we’re giving her are so aggressive....”

  “What? What’s happened?”

  Then we heard a sob from inside Kayley’s room. I pushed past him and opened the door.

  Kayley was sitting up in bed, her eyes red and her lip trembling. She must have been crying continuously, all the time the hospital was summoning me and all the time I was racing across the city. I could actually see the wet patch down the front of her nightshirt where the tears had soaked through. And she was surrounded by—

  Oh Jesus.

  I ran to her and pulled her into my arms. Little locks of blonde hair bounced off the bed and onto the floor.

  “I look—” She was too upset to get a sentence out. She had to force the words out between big, gulping sobs. “I look like a freak! And—And the rest’s—It’s all going to fall out—”

  I shushed her and pulled her even tighter against me. What could I tell her? That it wasn’t so bad? That it was temporary? “We’ll figure something out,” I told her.

  “A wig? I don’t want a wig!”

  I hugged her close. “I know. I know you don’t.” I patted her back. “We’ll get through this. We’ll get you through this and go to Switzerland and everything will be okay.”

  But I kept thinking of the plants, still just fragile seedlings. Kayley’s entire future was locked up in those slender stems. One mistake, one disaster: a fire, someone robbing us, the cops—hell, even if I just got the fertilizer a little off. That was all it would take.

  I’d do everything I could. I’d spend every waking hour at the grow house.

  But that brought a new problem: the more I was at the grow house, the more I was around Sean.

  May

  Louise

  Sean stopped by every few days. Even though it was me looking after the plants, there was always something that needed doing: a leak in the roof or a faulty light, a sack of fertilizer that needed carrying in from the car. He kept to our unspoken agreement: he didn’t try to kiss me again.

  But that didn’t stop him looking.

  I’d hear the low throb of the Mustang in the street outside and my heart would beat faster. Then the heavy thud of his boots on the sidewalk and the creak of the
door. If I was busy checking plants, I wouldn’t even look up at first, but I was aware of every little thing he did. I could feel him staring at the tight denim stretched over my ass if I was bending over. I’d feel his gaze slowly stripping me, layer by layer, melting my clothes away and caressing my body in languorous sweeps. By then, I’d be so hot and jumpy that I couldn’t look at him, so I’d keep my eyes on my work, walking around the tables and checking plant after plant as his eyes ate me up.

  I knew he was thinking about what he wanted to do to me and I was imagining, too. Whenever I had my back to him, I thought of suddenly feeling his hands on my waist, skimming up the sides of my top, lifting it a little and then darting underneath and squeezing my breasts. He’d pull me back against him and I’d feel the hard outline of his cock between the cheeks of my ass, grinding against me as I writhed in his grip. Then, unable to restrain himself any longer, he’d shove me forward against the table, the wood digging into the front of my hips. A hand would press into the middle of my back, bending me over it, and then he’d yank my jeans down hard, ripping the buttons from their stitching. I’d have just a few seconds to process what was happening as I lay gasping and panting with my cheek pressed to the wood. I’d feel the cool air of the room on the damp folds of my sex and then the hot, weighty pressure of his cock and—

  Sometimes I’d whip around to face him, right at that moment in my fantasy. I’d look him in the eye as he penetrated me in my mind and I knew, knew he was imagining the same thing. We barely spoke, hours and sometimes whole afternoons passing without a word. But in my head he was growling and panting and finally gasping, my earlobe between his teeth, as he finished inside me.