Shine

by R. L. Jameson

  “No, I was purple and choking when you saw me last.” She shakes his hand. “I’m Jane’s best friend, Bethany Lazzarus. Jane’s the greatest, sweetest woman alive, and if you hurt her—”

  Chris holds one hand in the air in surrender, his other is still embracing me, now dangerously close to my ass. “I’d rather cut off my arm than hurt her.”

  “Promise to cut off your own dick before you hurt her and I’ll let you date her.”

  Chris laughs. “Deal.”

  Bethany turns to Sherman, pointing with a wave of her hand. “This is my boyfriend, Sherman. He’s also my boss and he’s married right now.”

  Sherman’s shaking Chris’s hand, gasping and turning purple himself.

  “Nice to meet you, Sherman,” Chris says easily. He doesn’t laugh. He just smiles.

  “I—yes, pleasure to meet you, Chris. I’m assuming you’re Jane’s boyfriend?”

  “I am now.” Chris pulls me even closer alongside his body. And I’m a tad shocked. Again. Further, I can’t help but remember that each time after Gabe came he whispered, “Mine,” in my ear.

  I’m worried what Gabe means and try my best to deny it means anything.

  Chris glances over his shoulder and hollers, “This is the girl I was telling you about.”

  In a blur of a few minutes, the other firemen come and I’m introduced to them as Chris’s girlfriend, while I wonder if Chris had talked about me as the woman who had sex with three men at once. But none of the firemen look at me with a wicked grin. They seem happy to meet me, saying how Chris is driving them crazy since he can’t stop talking about me.

  Through the buzz of men talking, Sherman trying his best to be manly with them, Bethany leans over. “You’ll be okay if I leave now, right?”

  I look at her. Really look at her. She’s scared. I am too. But I want to make her comfortable. I want to make her feel secure and happy. So I put on another grin, a wide one, and hug her.

  “Sure. You go fuck Sherman’s brains out,” I whisper.

  “Love the potty mouth on you, hon.”

  “Learned it from the best.”

  “Aw, that’s so sweet. I think I’m gonna cry.”

  We laugh and then she and Sherman leave. The firemen leave shortly after, and I’m standing there with Chris, who wraps his fingers between mine.

  I tip up on my toes, clasping him behind his head with my hands, his soft short blond hair tickling my palms. Bringing his ear down to my mouth, I whisper, “Fuck me.”

  He clutches at my hips and glances left and right, looking worried someone might overhear. There’s no one in the hallway. And at that minute, I don’t care if someone is passing by. I just need him. I need to feel normal. No, I need to feel something other than this overwhelming panic. And I know Chris can make me feel so good it’ll curl my toes.

  “I’m on the job, baby.”

  “I’ll make it fast.”

  He groans and sweeps down to kiss me. Lip to lip, touch to touch. My heart beats wildly. He pulls away too fast.

  “I can make it fast,” I promise again.

  “I don’t have a condom,” he whispers in my ear then takes a nibble. I swear to god the man knows that’s my weakest spot. He’s teasing me. Only, I’m not in the mood. I need him to make me feel…only him. I can’t stand feeling alone while Bethany has to wait for her biopsy, while she doesn’t want me as much as she wants Sherman to make love to her. He probably would be a better comfort to her right now. I’m half crazed out of my skull, worrying about that fucking word: cancer.

  “I’m on the pill,” I whisper, hoping my meaning is clear.

  He blinks down at me, his jawline kicks. “But what about the guys? They might be pissed I didn’t use one.”

  I’m so surprised he’s said as much that I know I don’t conceal my emotions, and he sees them.

  He shrugs. “They’re good guys. They’re my friends. I don’t want to do anything—”

  I nod. “They are good guys, Chris. But I need you. Right now.”

  While standing in the hallway, not caring about my dignity, I cup his crotch. He’s hard. He’s so beautifully hard. But he jumps away from me.

  “Jane, baby—”

  “Please.” And I hate myself because my eyes prick from instant tears. The moisture falls before I can stop it.

  He cradles me and whisks me down the hall, holding me close. Somehow he opens the door to the bathroom where we first kissed, and I cave in.

  “Bethany has a tumor,” I blurt. “She’s having a biopsy done Friday.”

  Chris grabs me in a tight embrace, caressing my hair.

  “But she doesn’t want me,” I sob into his firm chest. God, I loathe how I’m letting everything slide out of my mouth. “She wants Sherman instead of me. She doesn’t want me.”

  “I’m sure she wants you too.” Chris’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. Patient. Kind, like him. “She probably wants both you and Sherman to be there for her. I’m sorry she needs a biopsy. That’s tough.”

  I sniff and look up at him. “Yeah.”

  He smiles down. “I’m sorry. You’re having a tough day.”

  I sniff again. “What are you doing here?”

  “We just came from a car crash. Not bad, but one of the ladies might have whiplash.”

  “Oh.” I rub the back of my hand along my right nostril; although, thank god, I don’t have a runny nose. “I’m sorry about your whiplash lady. I hope she’s okay.”

  His grin widens. “I think she’s faking, you want to know the truth.”

  I smile at him. We quietly laugh.

  “You want to fuck me now?”

  He laughs louder and points over my shoulder. I glance in the direction he’s pointing. There, a shiny condom dispenser sparkles at me.

  I turn back and smile at him. “No excuses now.”

  He cups both my cheeks, his smile so…happy. “I like you, Jane.”

  “Even though I sound like a rapist? I’m sorry I’m so needy.”

  He softly chuckles. “I—do you like me?”

  I frown. “Of course, I do.”

  “I mean—god, I’m going to sound like a girl. Sorry.” He blinks, looking truly apologetic about the girl remark. “But do you like me for more than just sex? I know you have more in common with Paul. I’m just a simple guy, maybe simple headed. And you and Gabe seem to be connected in a way…in a way I’m jealous of. But—”

  I reach up and kiss him. I know that’s not an answer, but I hope it will add to my argument that I’m so glad it was him I saw after the bomb detonated about Bethany’s upcoming biopsy and her traipsing off with my boss. I want only him. I don’t want Gabe or Paul like I want Chris right now. Because I know, somehow, Chris will comfort me the way I need. Because I know he cares. About me. And I care so much for him.

  “I want you,” I whisper. “I only want you right now. I love how kind you are, how sweet you are to me. I love how—I don’t have to worry that you might think less of me for crying, for being a mess.”

  “I never would.” He caresses my cheeks. “You’re having a seriously bad day. Dealing with a biopsy and all that comes with it, as well as your best friend seems like she’s choosing her boyfriend—”

  “But I don’t blame her for that.” I sniff once more, knowing the tears are going to come back. Only, I don’t worry this time. Chris will catch them as they fall. So I continue. “I—my husband died from lymphoma.”

  He gently kisses my eyes. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

  “And I lost my f—my mother to cancer. Uterine cancer.”

  He kisses my cheeks. “I’m sorry. That had to be—so bad.”

  “I hate cancer, Chris. I hate it. I hate it in an irrational way. And Bethany—” I suck in a breath.

  “And the tumor might be malignant.” His voice is so warm and tender.

  I nod, allowing myself to cry on him, the big beautiful man that he is.

  He holds me close. I can hear his heartbeat. I say in
to his chest, “I don’t want anyone but you. You’re the one I want. I’m sorry I’m so needy. So sorry.”

  He tips my head up to look at him. “I’m not. I’m glad I can help you right now.”

  “Why?” I don’t know where this question comes from, but some dam broke and more insecurity pours out. “Why do you like me?”

  “You’re funny.”

  I roll my eyes.

  He softly chuckles. “And got a stubborn streak I really like.”

  I shake my head.

  “And I like your heart.” His voice—oh, it’s both soft and masculine, caressing me with his tender words. God, I love his voice right now. “I like your spirit. I knew it when I held you back from when we were trying to take care of Bethany. You fought me so hard. You seemed so…fierce. I felt like I was holding a little wild bird when I held you. Every time I touch you, I feel honored, like you’re—I don’t know—like you’re an angel or something that’s letting me hold you, caress you.”

  I lunge for his lips. What woman wouldn’t after he’d said that?

  “You’re not simple minded,” I whisper between our kisses. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, ever known. And if you ever call yourself simple minded again, I will kick your ass.”

  He smiles. “There’s my girl.”

  Then I feel it. I’m connected to him. He possesses me like I possess him. He’s mine. And he wants me to be his. He reminds me of Bethany with what he’s just said, but it’s his heart that makes me wonder if he might become my friend. Not just my lover, but soon he might become as close a friend as what Bethany is to me. I worry I might be falling for him.

  Or maybe I shouldn’t worry because I’m fairly certain I’ve already fallen.

  He’s holding my waist, but I pull him with me as I shuffle toward the condom dispenser. We laugh as we lock the door to the bathroom and buy three foiled wrappers and choose the black for him. He jokes that it could be slimming. I tell him only a well-endowed man would ever dare make that joke.

  “Too big?” he asks as his thick, thick blunt tip edges into my opening.

  He’s holding me against a wall with my pants down around one of my ankles. His pants are exposing not nearly enough of him, but I did somehow get his t-shirt off. My blouse is unbuttoned, my bra pushed up and over my breasts.

  “No.” I smile as he pushes so gently into me. “I love your beautiful cock. Just right.” He stretches me and we’re both smiling at each other.

  He’s slow. Gentle.

  “Ah, so good,” he huffs. “I don’t want to stop.”

  “When do you get off?”

  “Thanks to my job, I have to come in the next five minutes. Bah-dum-dum.”

  I laugh at his corny joke and the drum roll that accompanied it, even as he’s still thrusting into me.

  “I get off work tomorrow morning,” he answers more seriously. “Twenty-four hour shift.” He’s circling his hips around, making me close my eyes from the ecstasy of this minute.

  “Will you come to my house when you’re done?” I’m surprised I ask this from him. I never want to be needy, greedy, ask too much. But I want him. I want him all the time.

  “I’ll be sleepy and grouchy.” His circling is getting faster.

  “I don’t care. I want to feed you and fuck you and put you to bed.” I’ve gotten rather fond of this fuck word.

  He groans. “That sounds so perfect.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll come to your house only if you rub your clit right now.”

  I reach between us and almost come when I slide my finger over the course dark blond hair he has down around his cock. I almost come from feeling him.

  “God, you’re so tight, baby.”

  “Am I? Do I feel good to you because you feel so good to me?”

  “Yeah, baby. So good. So goddamn good.” He’s getting faster, harder. “I love being inside you.”

  “I love it too.”

  “I love—” he swallows, looking me in the eye warily.

  I think I know what he was going to say before he cut himself off. And there’s a part of me that doesn’t believe him. It’s too soon. Too soon for a man. They need reassurances that I’m perfect before they say something like that. So, on second thought, I don’t know what he was going to say.

  I smile at him, pretending my heart isn’t pulled in opposite directions and that I don’t hurt. I don’t know why I’m hurting. Maybe because I want him to tell me he loves me. But he doesn’t.

  “I love fucking you too,” I say.

  He smiles. It’s a tad forced. “Are we fucking?” He slows down, the clang of his belt buckle hitting the wall an erotic noise.

  I shake my head, too honest. I wanted to fuck Chris. I really did. But we’re not. “I love making love to you, Chris, Christian Michael Peters.”

  He smiles, hopefully liking his full name on my lips.

  “I love making love to you, Jane, beautiful Jane Elizabeth Emory.”

  We kiss and instead of rubbing my clit, I touch him, right where we’re joined. I have to feel him, the very base of him, as he’s inside me. I have to touch his pubic hair that’s a few shades darker than mine. I have to try to cup his balls. My arms aren’t long enough, but everything I do makes him hurry his pace. He’s harder now too.

  “Going to make me come, Jane, baby.”

  But I do first. I don’t care how loud I am. I’ve never come like this before. He’s so far inside me. He’s everywhere. He’s taken my very heart and he’s got to know it. I feel my orgasm from my core into my heart. Every part of me squeezes for him.

  With a grunt he follows, thrusting deeper, coming inside me. I can feel his cock pulsing. And a part of me wishes he hadn’t used the condom. I wish I could feel his hot seed pumping inside me.

  We kiss even more, shaking, smiling, laughing, caressing. Somehow, we disentangle ourselves from each other. The whole time we’re chuckling and we can’t seem to keep our hands from each other. Something happened in this bathroom. Something happened twice in this bathroom, where I’m convinced my life is forever altered. There’s magic here.

  I know it sounds odd. After all, I’m talking about a public restroom.

  But then I realize it’s not the place that’s magical. It’s him; it’s Chris.

  “Will you call me, if you can, while you’re working?” I kiss him while I button my pants.

  He’s tucking in his t-shirt and looks at me. “You want me to?”

  “Only if you have time. I don’t want to bother you.”

  He leans down and feathers his lips against mine. “You’d never be a bother, baby.”

  I’m scared I will be, because I want him so much.

  Something crosses through his eyes, and I have to ask. “What is it?”

  “This is good, isn’t it?” He points from his chest to mine.

  I nod. “So good.”

  “It’s not just sex, is it?”

  I tilt my head. “Although, that’s really good too.”

  He smiles. I love his grin. It’s so easy. It makes me wonder if the world ever gave him a bad day. I’m sure it did. It’s the world after all. But you wouldn’t think that by looking at him. And I, greedily, want what he has. I want to smile like him.

  I point at my chest then his. “It’s not just good sex, Chris, baby.”

  He smiles more when I mimic his pet name. “I don’t want to be a bother to you either.”

  I kiss him. “You could never be a bother.”

  Now he chuckles. “Seriously, I—I know we all left things up in the air when we left your house, and I don’t want to piss off the guys, but I—I want to be with you.”

  “I want to be with you too.”

  He smiles and nods. “Good, I’ll call the guys. Let them know.”

  “What? Why?”

  “So they can be at your house too.”

  18

  I teach my class in a weird blur—half too joyful to make any sense, half too terrifi
ed of the future. I know I can’t stop what’s happening with Bethany, and like I said to Chris, I know I might not be the most helpful or comforting right now. If I were in her shoes, I’d want my brains fucked out too. I’d want to only feel good, so good I couldn’t allow anything else to enter in my head.

  What I hadn’t expected was this bliss after seeing Chris. I’d wanted, like Bethany, to numb myself from my terror by having pure sex. I’d wanted that so much. But I didn’t get that. There’s something happening between Chris and I. Something beautiful.

  Having watched chicks crack free from their eggs, I feel something similar is happening to my heart. I know I put guards around it to protect myself from surviving my past. There’s even stronger barricades when I discovered Tim was cheating on me. And I reinforced them when he died. But even with those reinforced steel guards, Chris is cracking through. No, he’s already inside me. He’s breaking the shell interiorly.

  I know it’s too soon. I know I need to get to know him better. Yet, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve somehow fallen in love with him. Well, who wouldn’t? It’s not his size or rugged handsomeness that has me falling. Although, I won’t complain about that. But really, it’s his warmth. It’s his kindness and thoughtfulness. It’s his appreciation of me that has me wondering about these love thoughts.

  It’s silly, isn’t it? Falling in love with a man who’s seen me have sex with two others? I’m being ridiculous.

  So while I’m teaching my class, I keep leading myself on tangents about love in historical societies. Romans and Greeks defined the different loves: platonic, patriotic, romantic, erotic, familial, etcetera. It’s odd that in English we only have one word for love. It seems too simple. But maybe love is just that. I don’t know. Oh, yes, I felt it from Anne and Bethany. But it’s hard to allow myself to feel it. I worry I don’t deserve love.

  In my deepest, darkest thoughts, I wonder if I deserved Tim’s infidelities and the constant worry that he never loved me. On good days, I realize in Tim’s narcissistic way he did love me. On bad days, I think I can’t possibly be worthy of love. I’m too odd. Too different. Too broken. So of course Tim cheated on me. I had emotional garbage escorting me through life, making it so I couldn’t sleep with a light off until I was twenty-six years old. I couldn’t sleep alone. I was too needy, and Tim sought the company of other women because I was just…too much.