by Lexie Ray
I bit my lip before nodding. I wanted Ben, and wanted him to like and accept me, but I also truly cared for him. I didn’t want to lie to him.
He stared at the swell of my breasts beneath my shirt before cupping one of them in my hand. The simple touch was electric, and I arched my back, wanting more of him.
“You?” I asked.
His too-quick nod told me that he was a virgin. Even with his popularity at school, I could understand why he hadn’t hooked up with anyone before this point. The majority of our classmates were low-income, like me. Girls might try to use him if they knew how rich his family was, or they might not understand him.
Even more interesting was the thought of his parents. I still hadn’t had a chance to meet them, but they sounded overbearing. If they wouldn’t let their own son pursue his dream of playing basketball, I could only assume that they’d forbid him from having sex with someone who was beneath his social status.
And I was definitely beneath his social status.
“I want to be with you,” I said, my voice thick with desire. I liked sex with the guys I’d picked as partners before, but I’d never experienced anything remotely close to what I was feeling for Ben right now. I had spent so much time pursuing him, thengetting to know him, then changing things about myself for him that the culmination of all that—this moment in bed, his fingers seeking out my nipple, his eyes hungry—was more sexual than any of my other experiences.
Without saying a word, Ben undressed me, slipping my shirt up over my curls, fumbling at my bra for so long that I took pity on him and released the clasp myself. He managed to unfasten the zipper on my skirt, and I kicked it down to my ankles. My panties were all that remained, and Ben worked them down my body slowly and with obvious relish.
When he worked his finger between my two soft lips, the ones that were usually concealed between my legs, it came away wet.
“I’m wet for you,” I murmured as he examined his finger with unabashed wonder. “I want your cock inside me.”
He kissed me hard, pushing his tongue into my mouth with an aggression that I hadn’t seen with him before. It was a complete turn-on.
Soon, I tore off his clothes, Ben only halting his kisses to help me with the stubborn buttons on his shirt, or the vexing belt keeping me from his cock.
His cock was perfect, hard and strong, a width I knew I could handle and then some. He rolled a condom onto it after pulling the foil package from his bedside drawer, and I smiled. Maybe he had just been waiting for the right girl to come around before having sex. I drew his latex-encased cock to my body, positioning it between my legs as we kissed, not caring if we had to slow it down because of his inexperience.
Ben had no such plans, plunging into my body, finding his way home at first thrust. I gave a long, low moan, encouraging him, wrapping my legs around his muscular waist. He couldn’t decide what he wanted to grab on to—my hair, shoulders, neck, jaw, tit, nipple, waist—so he kept his hands on rotation, slipping through my curls, caressing my shoulders, drawing lines down my neck, grasping my waist, hefting my tits one at a time, tweaking my hard nipples until they stood out, stiff and straight, squeezing my waist until I cried out from all of the constant stimulation.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked, breathless from thrusting.
“No,” I said, shaking my head quickly. “It feels so good. Don’t stop.”
He didn’t, driving into me again and again. I put his hand between my legs, helping him find my clitoris and showing him just how I liked him to rub it. Once he found it, he didn’t forget it, rubbing and rubbing until I had no choice but to tumble into orgasm.
Once he realized what he’d done, Ben threw his head back, all of his muscles clenching as he came with me. He thrust so hard and so deep that it almost hurt, but I wasn’t about to complain, using my legs to draw him closer, encourage him to squeeze out every last drop of pleasure that he could.
When he pulled out and looked down, his eyes widened.
“Oh, shit,” he said. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“What?” I asked, hoping I hadn’t started my period. I did feel awfully wet.
“The condom,” he said, pulling a shredded latex circle off his shaft and holding it up for me to see. “It broke.”
“Oh,” I said, sitting up. “Here. I’ll go to the bathroom and shower. It can’t have gotten far.”
Ben cracked open his door and, once determining that the coast was clear, ushered me to the bathroom down the hall. We hopped in the shower together and Ben turned the water on to practically scalding. I scooped the water from the faucet with one hand and dashed it against my pussy, feeling the water slide down my legs along with something thicker and stickier.
“Is it coming out?” Ben asked worriedly, trying to look around me.
“Yes, it’s fine,” I assured him. “Your cum wasn’t in me for more than a minute, you know? We’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know,” Ben said, staring at me like I was dangerous. “Maybe we should go to a doctor or something.
I laughed him off. “Really, it’s fine,” I said. “You’ll see. I heard that it was actually really hard to get pregnant. Some girls have to keep the cum in them for a long time to even have a chance at it. I’m definitely not going to get knocked up, Ben.”
Still spooked, Ben steered clear of me for the next few weeks. It hurt my feelings, but I sort of understood. It had obviously been his first time at sex, and to have such a thing happen could shake a person up.
Then, I missed my period. I shook it off at first, since my period had always been notoriously capricious. But I couldn’t ignore the second time in a row that it happened with not so much as a red spot in between.
As much as I hated to do it, I cornered Ben at his locker.
“We need to talk,” I said, keeping my voice light so no one would think anything was wrong.
“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you,” Ben said, his eyes wary. “I’ve been really busy with family stuff.”
“Well, you might be about to get even busier with family stuff,” I said bluntly, more than a little irritated at him.
He paled and looked like he was going to drop to the floor, fainting dead away.
“You’re pregnant,” he whispered.
“It’s possible,” I said. “I missed two periods. That means it’s almost been two whole months since you’ve even said a word to me, Ben.”
“I told you,” he said, his grip on his locker looking like it was the only thing that was keeping him upright. “My family’s been keeping me really busy. I haven’t been able to see you.”
“You’re seeing me now,” I said sassily. “And I’m telling you that we need to start talking options. And get a pregnancy test.”
We skipped the rest of school, walking silently down to a convenience store near school. I felt sick to my stomach. I didn’t want to be pregnant, but I wanted for Ben to be supportive of me. The fact that he was so apparently horrified made me angry. It wasn’t his body that could be possibly growing a baby right now. It was mine.
We purchased a pregnancy test, the clerk looking at us back and forth, bemused.
“You know, there’s a restroom in the back,” he said, handing me a key on a long piece of wood.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it and the pregnancy test, not stopping to see if Ben was following me.
The directions were easy enough to follow, but the wait was a nightmare. I took as long as humanly possible to pull my jeans up, zip the zipper, fasten the button, and rearrange my shirt.
A knock came on the door.
“Occupied!” I hollered, looking at myself in the mirror. Was this the face of a mother? I looked like a little girl, terrified that she was about to get caught doing something bad.
“It’s me.” It was Ben standing on the other side of the door. It warmed my heart a little that he hadn’t fled, but I was still angry at him for ignoring me for so long.
“What do you want?”
&nbs
p; “Well … how’s it going?”
“I pissed on a stick,” I said. “Now I’m waiting.”
“Oh.” Ben was silent for a little while before clearing his throat. “Want some company?”
I unlocked the door and let him sidle in, careful not to jostle the pregnancy test that was resting on the sink.
“How much longer until we know?” he asked, eyeing the plastic device that would foretell our future.
I shrugged. “It said two minutes. I’m just waiting for something to happen in that little window there. It’ll say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’”
“And we want it to say ‘no,’” Ben said confidently.
“That would probably be for the best,” I said, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice. He was here now, and that was all that mattered. I couldn’t keep being mad at him for not being around. This was the father of the possible child in my belly. I had to be good.
The little window started to darken and we both gasped, putting our heads together to see what it’d say. Both of us sagged at the results.
Yes.
Yes, I was pregnant.
“What are we going to do?” Ben groaned, holding his head in his hands.
I blinked, then blinked again. Maybe if I blinked hard enough, I’d wake up.
“Shimmy?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I don’t know what we’re going to do.”
Ben put my hand in his and squeezed it. I was pretty sure I witnessed the second that he became a man, made the leap from boyhood helplessness to grown-up purpose.
“We’ll tell our parents together,” he said, his voice strong and sure. “Today. Right now. Bring your parents to my house. We’ll work through this.”
“All I have is my grandma,” I said, groaning inwardly at everything Ben didn’t know about me. My grandma had raised me, neither of my parents were good for anything, we were so poor that I sometimes went hungry at meals to make sure that Gran got enough and suspected she did the same thing for me.
“That’s okay,” Ben said, keeping his hand on mine. “We’re going to be okay, Shimmy. We’ll figure this out.”
A sudden heavy knocking on the door made us jump with fright.
“You kids better not be fucking in there,” the clerk warned on the other side of the door.
We parted ways outside the convenience store, school still in session.
“I’ll see you back at my house,” Ben said, kissing me firmly on my forehead.
I shook my head and watched him go. I was glad that he was so confident in his plan. Gran would probably strangle me to death once I told her what I’d done.
When I got back to the apartment, she was watching a talk show on the crappy, snow-speckled television.
“Shonda?” she said wonderingly, squinting at the clock. “My programs are still on. Did they let you out early today?”
“Not really, Gran,” I said, staring at the floor.
“Well, then? What are you doing out of school?”
I sighed heavily. This was much, much harder than I thought it would be.
“The thing is—I have to talk to you about something.”
“Well?” I could see that Gran was losing patience with me. “Out with it.”
I wanted to ask her to promise not to be mad at me, but I knew that would probably be impossible.
“I’m—I’m pregnant, Gran.”
I wish she would’ve hollered at me, maybe even smacked me around a little. But the way Gran’s face caved in so carefully, as if it were some kind of controlled explosion, hurt me more than anything. She was crushingly disappointed, making me feel like I was a terrible human being.
“Who’s the father?” she asked after what had to be five whole minutes of silence. “Do you know?”
The question stung, but I didn’t let it show. Gran deserved any jab she wanted to make.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s a guy I know from school—Ben Paxton. And he wanted me to take you over to his parents’ house so that we could talk this through.”
“Talk what through?” Gran asked, sounding incredibly weary. “You’re with child. What more is there to talk about?”
“I don’t know, but I’d like you to come. Please, Gran.”
She looked even frailer than usual as she gathered a cardigan around herself and hefted her purse.
“I can get that for you, Gran,” I said, reaching for the monstrosity, but she shrugged me away.
“I can do it,” she said.
The walk between the apartment and Ben’s house was nothing for me, but Gran was getting older every day. I felt terrible when she reached a gnarled hand out to hail a taxi, and put her trembling fingers inside her wallet to draw out some precious bills to pay for it. What had I been contributing to this family? Nothing but drama. I wished hard to simply shrivel up and die, but my body didn’t oblige.
And now, it wasn’t only my body. My baby—the baby that Ben and I created—was growing inside me.
Gran was silent in the taxi, and I was a little thankful that the driver was playing music. We arrived after what seemed like an impossibly short ride, and Gran accepted my help to get out of the taxi.
Ben’s house loomed over us, and Gran made a noise of appreciation.
“You don’t see fine old houses like this much anymore,” she said, peering up at it.
“Ben’s folks are quite wealthy,” I offered, glancing over at Gran to see if that bit of news might please her, but her wrinkled face was inscrutable. The best thing to do would be just to get this over with as quickly as possible.
Miles, the butler, was there to greet us at the door.
“Ah, Miss Shimmy,” he said. “You and your grandmother are a little earlier than expected.”
His face flinched at shouting from somewhere deep in the house behind him, and he gave an apologetic smile.
Faintly, I could hear what sounded like a woman’s voice, railing against someone.
“What did you think was going to happen?” it demanded, floating on the air all the way to my ears. “What did you think we were trying to protect you from?”
“May I get either of you ladies something to drink?” Miles asked.
“Some water would be appreciated,” Gran said, her voice soft and almost cowed in the face of such wealth. It hurt me to see her like that. Gran wasn’t a vain woman, but she had her pride.
“Wait here, please,” Miles said, turning sharply on his heel and marching back toward the kitchen.
I had no choice but to stand there and listen to what I could only assume were Ben’s parents, eviscerating him over what had happened.
“Completely irresponsible …” a man cut in.
“Totally unthinkable …” the woman rejoined.
But suddenly, they fell silent. I heard murmuring, a soft curse, and then Miles was back, holding a tray with two glasses of water on it.
“Please,” he said. “Follow me to the den. The Paxton’s are waiting.”
Gran took one of the glasses of water from the tray and sipped from the glittering crystal.
“Please, Miss Shimmy,” he said, offering me the other glass. “For the baby. Drink.”
I knew that I was going to start having that mindset—for the baby. I was going to have to be mindful of my diet and my health, and put the life growing inside of me first. I took the crystal glass and drank before setting it back on the tray. Gran and I followed Miles back into a den, someplace I’d never set foot in before. The house was enormous, so I was sure there were plenty of other places I hadn’t laid eyes on.
The den was furnished with several leather couches and chairs, all of the same fawn color. Ben was slumped in a chair, his face in his hands, and who I could only assume were his parents were both perched on the edge of the same couch, humming mad even if they were doing their best not to show it in front of strangers.
“Mr. and Mrs. Paxton, this is Shonda Crosby and her grandmother,” Miles said formally.
“Please,�
�� I said, my voice small in the room. “Everyone calls me Shimmy.”
Mrs. Paxton gave a sharp laugh. “Of course they do.”
“Mother, please,” Ben said, grinding the words out. “Please behave yourself.”
“Very rich, coming from you,” she snapped, but crossed her arms and looked away.
Gran and I sat down on another couch and I studied Ben’s parents for a bit. Mr. Paxton looked like he’d just walked off the golf course, his argyle sweater vest and its pastel colors looking cool against his dark skin. Mrs. Paxton’s smooth skin was just a few shades lighter, and she had on a fine black cocktail dress and a string of pearls around her neck. These were two classy individuals, and I tried not to look askance at Gran’s years-old cardigan. Much of the material had balled up after use and time, and it looked third rate.
Gran cleared her throat, and I slumped forward, staring off into space. I tried to catch Ben’s eye, but he never looked up.
“I wasn’t so sure on the way over here, but now I do think it’s a good idea to talk about what to do about our two young people,” Gran said, her voice strong but a little quavering.
No one had anything to say to that, so Gran simply continued.
“I think I’d like to say up front that I don’t believe abortion is the answer,” she said.
Mr. Paxton hissed between his teeth—an unpleasant sound. “I’d say you’re right,” he said. “If what my son’s saying is true, your granddaughter is carrying the heir to this family.”
Gran blinked a couple of times, evidently not sure what to think about that.
“Well, all human life is precious,” she said finally. “We’re going to do the right thing and raise this baby correctly.”
“The correct thing to do is to take good care of yourself for the entirety of your term,” Mrs. Paxton said, looking at me coolly. “No drugs, no alcohol.”
“I don’t do that kind of stuff,” I said defensively.
Mrs. Paxton’s mouth twisted and she looked like she wanted to say something, but Mr. Paxton laid his hand on her arm to stop her.
“And once you’ve brought this baby to term, we’d like for you to renounce any claim you might have to it,” Mr. Paxton said.
