Free to Dream

by Tracey Jerald

  “Nothing is ever really my business, Cassidy. It’s never stopped me from protecting those I love before,” he fires back quickly, way more experienced at this game in our present roles than I. Oh, good play, Phil. The big brother card, trying to use my emotions to get me to spill my guts.

  “What makes you think I need protecting?” The heads swirl from me to Phil. Wimbledon ain’t got nothing on us when it comes to the speed of heads moving back and forth.

  He leans back in his chair, knotting his fingers over his washboard abs. “Maybe because the last time you had a date it was with me for your senior prom, when I was still lying to myself that I wanted pussy as well as dick?” Looking over at his husband, he says, “I’m certain of which I want now.”

  “I’d hope so,” Jason says mildly. Not helping, Jason, you damn traitor.

  “Don’t you want advice, Cass? From the people who know you best and that you trust the most?” Phil pushes.

  The thought of trusting Caleb flies through my mind. I hold onto my silence stubbornly. Okay, so what if the last time I had a date was something like ten years ago? While that part is true, I don’t need to share my entire dating experience to be dissected. Most of what Caleb and I shared was private, from the deepest parts of our souls. Doesn’t he get it? When he was falling for Jason, there was so much he didn’t want to share, so much he held back because…my thoughts slam into a wall.

  Oh shit, I’m falling for Caleb Lockwood.

  I literally feel the blood drain from my face. My mouth opens and a choking gasp comes out of my mouth. I vaguely hear Em telling my other sisters to shut the fuck up as they start demanding answers on top of each other. My hand, now shaking, reaches up to touch my mouth. My eyes don’t leave my brother’s.

  Phil stands, comes next to my chair and pulls me up into his arms. “I got you, Little Girl,” he croons softly into my ear. It’s what he’s always said since the day he met me and was trying to get me to hold it together. My arms tighten and I bury my face into his neck. For how my brother comes across now as a self-absorbed drama queen, he has always been my rock. “I should have known you were just waiting for Prince Charming to come riding in,” he whispers in my ear, reminding me of the many nights he’d read me fairy tales, well into my teens, when I just couldn’t keep the nightmares at bay any longer.

  I giggle into his neck. Phil stands to his full height, leaving my feet dangling off the floor. I grip his shoulders tighter. Suddenly, I feel another set of arms wrap around me and the scent of rosemary mint. Em. A kiss on the top of my head and a whiff of Chanel, Ali, followed by kisses on each cheek from Holly and Corinna, before each of their arms surround me in a cocoon of familial love.

  Suddenly, I feel a wet lick on the back of my thigh as Mugsy joins in the family circle, not wanting to be left out. I let out a squeal in Phil’s ear, who immediately drops me.

  “Dammit, Cass”, he curses me. I stumble backward into Em, and we both tumble to the floor laughing. We continue to lie there as our sisters collapse on each other. Jason laughs into his wine and Phil glares at Mugsy, who tilts his head in confusion, tongue lolling to the side.

  “The best thing you ever did was adopt that dog,” I tell Em.

  She’s still clutching her stomach. “Oh my god, Cassidy. Here we are, about to have a full out sob fest and in comes Mugsy.”

  We both break into laughter again.

  Phil, back to his normal self, is more aggravated that his rare emotional moment was ruined by a dog. “Well, I see what happens when I try to be supportive, so get off your ass Cassidy and start talking about the hotness that is Caleb Lockwood.” At Jason’s mild look, Phil retreats slightly. “What? He is hot for Cassidy.”

  Ali reaches down a hand for Em and I, pulling us to our feet. I search Ali’s face questioningly, wondering what it was about Keene Marshall that attracted her to him.

  She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow. “Something on your mind, Cass? Other than Caleb?” she smirks.

  I open my mouth to ask her about Keene as we sit back down and resume dinner, but decide to save that for a later time. Really, it’s none of my business, and besides, I do have something else I want to ask.

  “What’s sex like?”

  A hushed silence falls across the table, with all eyes on me in some state of shock. Mentally, I note this topic for the next time we’re having an argument at the office. It’s an effective way to get them to shut up.

  Em is the first to break the silence. “What do you mean, Cass? You’ve had sex since…”

  I slowly shake my head from side to side.

  “Cass, despite my earlier attempt at prodding you to talk about Caleb,” Phil says, exchanging a glance with Jason to make sure he isn’t being too invasive, “you’ve had what some who laughingly call “dates” since high school. You mean to tell us you haven’t had sex?”

  Leaning back in my chair, I pick up my wine and stare at the ruby liquid. “I needed it to mean something,” I say into the depths of the glass. Realizing how that might sound to all my sexually active siblings, I continue. “I’m not judging the rest of you for living your lives so, please, don’t think that. But it wasn’t like I could stand to be alone in a room with a man. I still can’t handle certain situations where I know I’m all alone. When I could function enough to be able to accept the occasional escort it was usually you, Phil. Otherwise, I was never interested.” Swirling the wine around, I take a sip. “One thing I realized quickly during therapy is that for me, sex equates to trust, and being able to share everything about who I am. And essentially means it isn’t just sex but making love.” I look at the enraptured faces around the table. “I have to be in love.” Taking a deep breath, I let it all out. “He knows everything about me, and I do mean everything. And he doesn’t care. It’s almost impossible to believe.”

  “And it’s scary as hell,” Phil murmurs, reaching for his husband’s hand. Jason lifts his hand to his lips.

  All the girls sigh, myself included.

  “The idea of us makes his friends nuts, by the way,” I continue, watching sappy faces turn into identical thunderclouds. “I’m not sure what it makes Ryan and Jared feel. It could cause a problem for the business if this doesn’t work out.”

  “What do you mean his friends have a problem with it?” Holly demands.

  “Screw the business,” Corinna mutters simultaneously.

  I recount what happened at Molly Darcy’s. With a silent apology to Ali, I retell the part where I smacked down Keene. Her cobalt blue eyes flash in anger, but then an evil smile erupts on her face when she says, “Good for you, sister. I just wish I’d been there to do it myself.”

  Phil slams his fist on the table, making the plates jump. “Fuck his friends.”

  And that’s all it takes for me to regain myself. “Didn’t I just explain that Ali already has and I’m not into Keene? Keep up, Whirlpool.” Em’s wine ends up in Phil’s face for the second time in one night.

  “You did that on purpose,” Phil accuses, letting go of Jason’s hand to wipe his face.

  My lips tip up as I shrug. It’s a gift.

  “Just for that, I refuse to show you how to grab a cock,” Phil taunts. Jason puts his head in his hands, knowing this is going nowhere good, fast.

  Ali snorts. “Please, Phil. She can get that down easy enough. It’s not as if she has to go hunting for it each night like Jason has to for you. It’s sucking cock that might get interesting.” Ignoring Phil’s indignant sputtering, she turns her laser stare on me. “I take it you have no idea yet how big he is so we can recommend items to practice with?”

  Practice items? What in the hell?

  Ali continues. “Same with nipple play. Cass has quite the rack, and she should practice feeling herself up so she doesn’t jump through the top of that sexy Porsche if they decide to get down and dirty in there.” There’s a round of agreement at that statement. Suddenly, the table is filled with comments like “choking the chicken” and “two-finge
r tango,” and a very disturbing discussion between Em and Jason about the best places to purchase sex toys.

  I didn’t need to know they agreed on that. Ever.

  “Enough!” I finally yell to get my siblings attention again. “I’ll figure it out.”

  Phil, never one to keep his mouth shut, leans over to say, “Sweetie, if you haven’t done it, it’s all going to be a shock to you. A man like Caleb has probably done it a lot.”

  While not wrong, I really didn’t need that mental image. Sending a mental fuck you over to my brother, I also know Caleb would never place any expectations on me. “I appreciate the… insight you all have provided about your sex lives. There are things I will never be able to quite…forget. But seriously, I just wanted to know what sex was like. What does it feel like when it’s good?”

  “There’s so much more than that, Cass,” Em says patiently. “That’s what we’re, in a roundabout way, getting to.”

  I think quickly. “Okay, how about this. Give me something to do right now. I pass it, we stop this discussion.”

  They all burst into laughter.

  “I’m serious! Give me something to. How did Corinna put it…deep throat? If I can do that, then let’s assume that I’m not going to be completely inept and need Sex for Dummies, the deluxe edition delivered to my Kindle.”

  My sisters are leaning on each other in a heap of laughter, while Phil jumps up and runs for the kitchen. “You better not make it anything like a jalapeno or something, asshole,” I call over to him.

  “Noted,” he calls over his shoulder, already at the fridge.

  “This should be interesting,” Jason muses. Phil comes back with an assortment of food that no one in their right mind would eat together. Mushrooms, Brussels sprouts, pepperoni, summer sausage, leftover bratwurst, cream, and a jar of pickles. Pushing aside his plate, Phil begins to construct varying edible sculptures that when he’s done, all remarkably resemble penises.

  It’s almost scary at how adept he is at this.

  By the time he’s done, food is everywhere and he moves them to be on display in the center of the dining room table. Holly has her phone out, snapping photos. Thank God. While I may want to block this memory from my mind for the immediate future, you never know when a good holiday present requires these images on a family T-shirt.

  “No one expects you to be able to deep throat this one,” Phil says, pointing to the pepperoni with the mushroom cap and Brussels sprout ball sac. “This is merely a display of what he could be packing in length, but it’s highly unlikely. Most men lie about being this long.” Dismissively, Phil moves to the summer sausage. “Now some men may have this kind of girth, but again, it’s a rarity, so while a visual stop in our demonstration, it will not be what we practice on.”

  I look at the summer sausage and imagine that fitting down below. I think my vagina closes up tighter than it already is at the thought. The idea that Caleb might be packing something that thick actually worries me a little.

  “Now, let’s talk about what I suspect Mr. Lockwood might be packing in his pants.” Jason, now not dissuading Phil, but fully participating, is staring at option three with interest.

  Phil continues. “The brat is not only best for this because it has a soft but supple over skin, but it also curves. Something, Cass, most men will not admit their cocks do. The length is a little long because most people can’t deep throat that amount, but then again, some can.” Jason can’t keep the smirk off his face.

  Yeah, screw blacking out memories in my immediate future. Where’s the zapper thingie to erase this entire evening?

  Phil turns his Machiavellian gaze on me. “If you, sister dear, can remotely deep throat the brat, we”—he gestures broadly around the table—“will leave the functional topic of sex alone for the evening.” Just as I’m about to agree to the challenge, Phil walks over to the bar and pulls out a shot glass. Filling it halfway with a concoction of cream and pickle juice, he then says, “And once you’re done playing with your toy, you have to do a shot of this.” He nods down at the glass.

  I look at my sisters and they’re all solemnly nodding. “Did he make you do this bullshit?” I demand.

  Em raises her hand. “Melted vanilla ice cream with pickle juice.”

  Ali nods. “McDonalds vanilla milkshake while munching on the pickles. Which was really gross because they still had mustard and ketchup on them.” She glares at Phil. He smiles back beatifically and gestures to Holly.

  “Brandy Alexander and olive juice,” she confirms to a round of “Ewws” from my other sisters. “What the hell, Phil?” Em exclaims.

  Jason puts his head in his hands as he asks, “Were you trying to kill her?”

  “We were at a bar. I had limited items to work with,” he protests, affronted. We all shake our heads at him in disgust before turning to Corinna.

  “I heard the stories from Ali and Holly. I decided to go for the real thing and then talk to him about it afterward. I figured I would rather spit it up on a guy the first time than gag with any concoction Phil could make up. He seemed to be getting worse as we all got older,” she admits.

  We all burst into laughter. Some of my stress dissipates realizing this wasn’t some disgusting hazing ritual. In his own warped way, Phil really was trying to support his baby sisters.

  “So, do you need a little mood music for your debut, Cass? Or are you going to just grab the wiener and give it a go?” Phil’s eyes are sparkling with mirth, and some other unnamed emotion.

  Just then, Luke Bryan’s “Move” starts playing over the sound system. I remember the heat of Caleb’s body pressed against mine as we were dancing. His arm was low and tight against my hips, pulling me against him, feeling the tight hard ridge of his cock pressed against me. I close my eyes. I feel no fear, just a hot burning want pulsing through me. A need to be able to be with this man.

  To be whole.

  Eyes fluttering to a slit, I stand and reach across the table for the brat. Briefly grateful Phil left the raw mushroom head off, I open my mouth slightly. The tip of the bratwurst slides between my lips. My mouth widens naturally as I start to feel the fleshy meat move toward the back of my throat. Pulling it out slightly, I lick around it, trying to get some of the meaty flavor away. In the distance of my mind, I can hear the demented sounds of my sisters whooping it up, cheering me on, and Phil saying “holy shit” over and over.

  I must be doing it right.

  I figure if someone was spying in on us, there would be no doubt about how obscene this is. We look like we’re playing a crazy bachelorette party game we found on the Internet.

  Tipping my head back slightly to open my throat a bit more, I manage to suck the brat down to where Phil has pinned in the Brussels sprouts. Holding it for a few seconds, I pull it gently out of my mouth and lay it on the table next to the shot. Right as I’m about to shoot it, Em yells, “In three or four parts to make it real.”

  Fine.

  The first pull tastes like over-salted béchamel. Second, more of the same. By the time I hit the third and fourth parts of Phil’s “cum shot,” I’m not really tasting anything. I put the glass down and open my eyes fully to a round of applause. But the moment to top them all is when Jason turns to Phil and says, “I don’t even think you did that well the first time with mine.” That causes Phil to choke on his wine, echoed by the hysterical laughter from the women at the table, myself included.

  When we all calm down, Jason turns to me and asks, “Now, what is it you want to know, Cass? What it feels like to realize you’re in love, or what it feels like to have the physical connection with that person?”

  Phil, serious now that fun time with food is over, reminds me gently, “Cass, technically you’re not…”

  “I know that I’m not technically a virgin, Phillip. But not since I was nine has anyone or anything ever been close to…you know. Besides, that has nothing to do with this.”

  “Cass, it has everything to do with this,” Phil disa
grees gently.

  Sighing, I acknowledge his comment with a nod. “I understand your concern, but it doesn’t fit here. Truly. I don’t feel the same with Caleb. The fears are just silent.”

  “You’ve only known him such a short time, Cass,” Ali argues.

  “How long did it take Phil and Jason?” I counter. Standing, I pick up my wine and meander around the great room. “He knows everything already. There’s no need to hide who I am and play games.”

  “But what about him?” Em asks. Holding up her hand, she declares, “I’m not arguing against this. I’m just wondering where his head is at.”

  “I’m not saying I’m going to jump his bones tomorrow, y’all.” I’m exasperated. I lean my back against the bar. “If it makes you feel better, he let me in, and, no, I won’t share what we talked about,” I say before Phil can open his mouth to ask. “No amount of your badgering will make me tell you, Phil. That’s between Caleb and me. But let me just say by doing so, I felt comfortable enough being alone with him, waking up with him in my bed with my back to him.”

  They all suck in a breath, knowing for me what that means. When I was a young girl, even school pictures were a traumatic experience knowing someone I didn’t explicitly trust would be at my back. All my school pictures show me with a glistening of tears in my eyes.

  I’m still not thrilled when I have a stranger at my back to this day, but I cope. But out-and-out trust, like I gave Caleb, is reserved for only those who hit the core of me.

  I have no idea how he managed to navigate past my barriers so quickly.

  “That’s right. I. Trust. Him. Who knows? He may end up being an ass and doing something to break my heart.”

  Phil interrupts, growling, “I’ll kill him if he does.”

  Waving his drama aside, I continue. “You told me, Phil. I couldn’t plan for this. There’s no way I could have. Hear me though. I feel unburdened and weightless when I’m with him. His arms give me strength and his smile gives me hope. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to feel?”

  My eyes scan around the table, where my sisters are reaching for each other’s hands. Phil falls back in his seat, mouth agape. Jason’s smile is both knowing and proud at how I’m taking my stand against my past, against my fear, and against my family.