Tinfoil Heart

by Daisy Prescott

  I’m a terrible hostess.

  I jog down the hall to the bathroom. With a sigh, I realize I’m wearing nice black underwear that even matches my bra, and won’t have to make a quick switcheroo in my room. In the mirror, I notice my face is flushed and my eyes are extra bright. I look like I’m high, but in a good, happy way. A quick refresh and fluff, and I’m as good as I’m going to get without a full shower or spa day.

  As I feared, Boone is perched on the settee. He’s holding a book in his hand, which he returns to the shelf when I approach.

  “Is it me, or is this thing small?” He stretches his arms along the back and can touch both ends.

  “I think people were smaller when it was made.” I stand in front of him, not sure if I should squeeze next to him or sit on one of the kitchen chairs.

  He makes the decision for me when he slides his hands around my thighs and pulls me forward. Guiding me to straddle him, he stares up at me. The lust I saw spark in his eyes at dinner is a brush fire now. He moves one hand to the back of my neck, bringing my mouth down to his.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs right before pressing his lips to mine.

  My heart is a hummingbird, beating so quickly everything blurs. The combination of his words, hands, and mouth should require an adult warning. The man knows how to kiss. He’s not diving for lost treasure behind my tonsils or thrusting at me like an excited rabbit. His kisses are deep, long, and full of promise. I’m not sure I won’t combust before we get naked.

  Boone takes his time exploring my mouth while his hands roam over my body. He’s a man with all the time in the world.

  It’s sexy as hell.

  He may be taking his time, but my body is impatient for what comes next. It remembers how his bare skin feels and wants more.

  Last time we made out, he was ninety-eight percent naked. Tonight, I want to go for a perfect score.

  “Lucy,” he whispers against my mouth, “I think a spring in your tiny couch is trying to violate me.”

  His words don’t make sense to my sex clouded mind. I lean away and ask, “Violate you how?”

  “I’m being poked in the ass by something. Did you grow an extra hand?”

  I wiggle my fingers where they’re twisted in his messy hair. “Nope.”

  He shifts and then grimaces. “We need to get up.”

  In a smooth motion, he grips my ass and stands. I wrap my legs around his hips, then peer over his shoulder.

  A small silver coil of a spring has penetrated the velvet. “You weren’t kidding.”

  He spins around and glowers at the violator.

  I so want to make a joke about little green aliens and their probe obsession, but I’ve made myself a promise to avoid all things aliens.

  “Where’s your bedroom?” He walks toward the hall that leads to my room and the bathroom.

  A few steps later he lowers me down to the bed. I pull him over me, craving his weight on top of me. My thighs open to make room for his hips, and when he settles against me, I moan. Loudly.

  He chuckles as he drags his scruffy face along my jaw.

  The scrape of his one-day beard inflames my skin, but it’s not the kind of friction I want.

  I tip my hips up to meet him, slowly rocking against him. Now it’s his time to moan.

  He catches my grin with his mouth, kissing me until I’m breathless.

  My hands slip beneath his T-shirt, and skim over his warm skin. After the caverns, I returned his shirt and now I curse the extra layer of fabric. I give up exploring his muscles to undo the buttons. He sits back on his haunches, allowing me better access. As soon as the last button is loose, he shrugs off the chambray and then pulls the white tee over his head.

  “Your turn,” he says, sneaking his own fingers beneath the hem of my shirt.

  My bra is simple black satin, nothing fancy or sexy, yet Boone’s eyes widen as he stares down at me. Guess he likes what he sees. Bending lower, he skims his lips over the peak of my nipple through the thin fabric. The warmth and pressures makes me arch my back in a silent plea for more.

  Shifting back, he frowns.

  “What?” I whisper, nerves sinking like rocks in my stomach.

  “It’s a beautiful bra, but I want you naked.” He arches an eyebrow while he traces a line down to the button of my jeans.

  A moment of shyness makes me hesitate. I have a squishy belly and my hips are too wide. He’s perfectly proportioned and all muscles. What if he sees me fully naked and doesn’t find me sexy?

  “Lucy?” Softly saying my name, he cups my cheek to get my attention. “Are you having second thoughts?”

  “No. Are you?” Waiting for his answer, I hold my breath.

  “No, I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you naked since the afternoon at the lakes. I love that bikini but it’s been torturing me for weeks. You’re so sexy.” His hand drops to my chest and he drags a finger over the arch of my bra, between my breasts, going lower until he traces a circle around my belly button.

  Standing, he unbuttons his jeans and lets them drop to the floor. He’s wearing dark gray boxer briefs and there’s no way to ignore his erection tenting the soft fabric.

  “In case you were having doubts about me finding you sexy, I think this is proof.”

  I love his shy but confident smile.

  Lifting my hips, I shimmy out of my jeans and underwear. He pulls them off my body before dropping his boxers. My bra is the last to disappear.

  Like the rest of him, his cock is beautiful. I reach out to stroke the hard velvet of him. He groans and twitches beneath my touch.

  “Condom?” I ask.

  “Not yet.” He slowly crawls up my body and then drops kisses as he moves back down. A kiss to my belly button. A kiss to my left hipbone. When his mouth skims over the apex of my legs, I part them slightly in invitation. I feel him smile against my inner thigh before he places soft kisses over my center. His tongue presses against my clit and I arch my back.

  Like his kisses earlier, he’s not in any rush. Kissing and licking me in a slow, intentional rhythm until I’m a twisting, begging mess.

  With a soft nip to the soft crease near my thigh, he slides in a single finger, then pulls out, before adding a second. His other hand finds my breast and teases my nipple. The combination of his mouth and fingers pushes me closer to the edge. I want to yell out how much I love his manual dexterity but bite my knuckle instead.

  My hips rise to match the rhythm of his fingers. So close to breaking apart, I buck and squeeze my legs around his head. He flattens his hand on my sternum, stilling me. When he licks my clit, I explode. This is what a new star forming must feel like. Stars sparkle their light behind my eyelids as pleasure ripples through my body in waves.

  His fingers still inside me as he guides me back down to earth.

  “You’re a dangerous man,” I whisper, pulling him up to my mouth.

  He’s chuckling when I try to kiss him, but doesn’t ask for explanation. “I’ll be right back.”

  I’m not even sure what I mean. Sure, I could become addicted to the things this man can do to my body. But he’s a bigger threat to my heart.

  He returns with a condom and opens it.

  “Let me,” I ask, taking it from him. Stroking his length, I slip the condom on.

  I fall back to the pillows and he follows, settling his body between my hips. I love feeling the weight of him. He brushes the head against my slick opening, once, twice before thrusting an inch inside. It’s not enough. When he stills, I open my eyes.

  “I’m already on the edge. Give me a second.” His lids are closed and he moans, slipping in another few inches.

  He couldn’t have said anything sexier. Knowing I turn him on to the point of almost losing it within seconds gives me a heady rush. I don’t want this be over, so I still, waiting for him to regain control. I’m rewarded with a deep thrust and a sexy groan from him once he’s all the way inside.

  “Fuck.” The word rushes out
on an exhale.

  Finding a rhythm, he begins to thrust deep and hard. I wrap my arms around him, holding on as our bodies rock together. Still sparking small flashes of pleasure from my first orgasm, my body quickly builds up to a second one.

  “You’re close again?” he asks, slowing down, sliding almost all the way out.

  “Don’t stop. Please,” I beg.

  He thrusts in deep, and at the same time presses his thumb against my clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “That. Do that again.”

  With a muffled grunt, he does.

  It’s all too much and I feel my body coil in anticipation of another release.

  When I tighten around him and pulse, his rhythm falters. With two quick, deep thrusts he buries himself deeper. I open my eyes when he tips his head back with a deep moan. Watching him lost in pleasure is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed.

  Falling forward, he rests his head on my shoulder—his heavy weight a welcome crush that grounds me back in reality. “You okay?” he asks, placing a kiss against my collarbone.

  “Mmm,” I mumble. “When can we do it again?”

  He laughs and gently rolls his hips. “I’m still inside of you, but I’m going to need a few minutes.”

  I kiss him before he slips out of bed to deal with the condom. When he returns, I stand and kiss him again, slipping by him to use the bathroom.

  When I return, he’s propped up on the pillows in my bed, looking comfortable.

  “Come back here,” he commands, patting the spot next to him.

  “How many condoms did you bring?” I crawl beside him.

  His chest rumbles with his amusement. “Two.”

  “I like your optimism.” I kiss his pec.

  “I like your optimism better.” He strokes his hand down my back.

  “Huh?” I ask, drowsy and confused.

  “I saw the new box in the bathroom,” he whispers and pinches my butt. “We should pace ourselves.”

  I don’t tell him I’ve had that box for months, never having a need to open it. Instead, I straddle him and begin kissing a path down his chest.

  He’s more dangerous than I first thought.

  I’m going to need a tinfoil hat for my heart to protect myself from Boone Santos.

  Four.

  That’s how many condoms we use.

  I’m impressed with myself. Four is definitely a new record for me.

  Twice last night, once at dawn, and one in the shower. Boone nearly cracked his head when he slipped on the wet floor getting the box.

  If he wasn’t already standing by his truck kissing me good-bye, I’d have to come up with some excuse to kick him out. My body is a tender buttercup after four rounds of sex with Boone.

  The man has stamina. He must be part cyborg.

  And I’m out of sex shape.

  He’s hard again as we make out in the parking area. My horny brain is suggesting I invite him back in for round five while my poor vagina is waving a white flag and calling for a time out.

  I don’t listen to my head.

  “I need to go before I throw you in the truck bed and have my way with you again.” His hand cups my breast underneath his shirt I’m wearing. Yes, I stole it again and I have no plans to give it back.

  Twisting away from him, I peer into the back of his truck “I’m going to pass. Looks dirty and thorny.”

  He stares into the bed. “Yeah, that’s a terrible idea. I forgot what a mess it is back there from driving on the dirt roads.”

  “Is that why your truck’s always filthy?” I swear he has half a tumbleweed back there.

  “Probably. I spend a lot of time on unpaved roads out in the desert. And honestly, I couldn’t care less if my rig’s clean on the outside as long as I can see out the windows.”

  I wonder what his place looks like. If he’s a neat freak inside with a yard full of weeds. There’s so much I don’t know about him.

  “When can we go on our second date?” he asks, kissing my cheek. “When’s your next day off?”

  “Saturday, and you’re in luck because I have no plans.”

  “You do now.” He lets his mouth linger over mine, not really kissing me until I press my mouth against his.

  I hum into the kiss, but press my hands against his chest. “Be gone with you.”

  “See you in the morning for breakfast.” He slowly releases me.

  In my post sex haze, it takes me a minute to realize he means at the diner.

  MONDAY MORNING TAKES a decade to arrive.

  When I walk into the kitchen, Tony greets me with a extra big smile.

  “You’re late,” he tells me, pointing at the clock.

  “It’s five-thirty. On the nose.” I hold up my phone to prove the time.

  “You’re not early.” He pretends to admonish me.

  “If you want me here at five, pay me to show up at five.” I rub my fingers together in the universal gesture for money.

  “I’m paying you now.” He taps his giant spatula on the grill before flipping some home fries.

  “I’ll bring you coffee when it’s ready.”

  I drop my bag and pull on my apron. Silly me believes I’ve avoided him teasing me about my date on Saturday.

  When I return with a mug of coffee, he grins at me. “You like Las Chicas?”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Best chiles rellenos I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Handsome date enjoy them, too?” he asks, too innocently.

  “He did.” I give him nothing. “What happened to not wanting to know about our love lives? Should I stay after closing so we can braid each other’s hair and gossip about boys?”

  His spatula freezes mid air as he stares up at the exhaust hood. “Hell no.”

  “Didn’t think so.” I set his coffee on the shelf near the stove.

  Wanda strolls through the back door, all frosted mauve smiles and extra high hair.

  “Someone had an overnight guest,” she announces to the room.

  Tony mumbles something in Spanish and makes the sign of the cross over his chest. “Why am I the only one working this morning? Wanda, don’t tell me why you’re late. Get to work.”

  “Oh, I wasn’t talking about myself. Lucy’s the one with the truck parked in her guest spot.”

  Parking in her guest spot sounds like a terrible euphemism for sex. Leave it to Wanda.

  Tony’s eyes flick to me and then he shakes his head. “What you do on your own time is none of my business. Now will someone please set up the dining room before the customers have to do it themselves?”

  Wanda opens her mouth to speak. Grabbing her by the arm, I pull her out of the kitchen.

  “Tell me, tell me, tell me,” she whispers excitedly.

  I really don’t want to and contemplate lying to her.

  “I’m so happy for you.” She hugs me before I can say anything.

  Briefly, I hug her back.

  Squeezing me tight, she starts to jump up and down. “I recognized Boone’s truck.”

  I have no option but to bounce with her or have my shoulders pulled out of the socket.

  Once I manage to escape her hold, I tell her, “Please don’t make a big deal about this.”

  Her smile falls. “Oh, no. Was it bad?”

  Wrinkling her nose, she holds her fingers about an inch apart.

  “No, not that.” Laughing, I avoid looking at her. “I just, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Are you two gossiping out there?” Tony’s voice carries through window.

  As soon as we open the doors, the diner is packed with visitors for the alien festival in addition to the regulars. I barely have time to say hi to Boone and take his order.

  When I pick up the plate of pecan pancakes, Tony jerks his head, indicating I should look behind me. I turn around. At his new spot at the counter, Boone’s quietly smirking while tapping away at his phone.

  “Tell him if he makes you cry at work, I have a baseball bat back here.
” He points to the corner behind him.

  Lifting the plate, I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to tell him you’re threatening paying customers with violence.”

  Unaware of Tony’s ridiculous threat, Boone smiles and licks his lips when he sees his pancakes.

  He pours syrup around the edge, then sticks his finger in the puddle and licks off the sticky liquid.

  I want to suggest we meet up in the walk-in fridge for a quick make-out session, but Tony would probably fire me on the spot and chase Boone around with his baseball bat.

  Playing tourist with Boone has been a fun distraction. He’s already made plans to take me away this weekend for some sort of super secret adventure.

  All week I’ve spent barely any time reading blogs or watching videos online. I’ve skipped going to the Center, making excuses to Zed about taking extra shifts at the Burger Joint in the afternoons. The lies are piling up all around me.

  To make amends for being sucked into the Boone vortex, I buy the ingredients to make cookies for Jim. In my little kitchen, which is just a wall in the living room, I mix up a batch of oatmeal dough while listening to one of my favorite podcasts. This episode is about the uptick in UFO sightings around the country.

  I save a small amount of dough for myself that won’t be sullied by raisins.

  Once Jim’s cookies are in the oven, I sit down and eat my dough with a spoon. Salmonella be damned.

  The podcast’s host, a guy named Bert, has a lovely soothing voice as he retells various stories about unidentified lights in the night sky. He reminds me a little of Cecil Baldwin, the narrator of Welcome to Night Vale, my all time favorite fiction podcast. At times, living in Roswell feels like a real life version of Night Vale. While Bert talks about orbs and triangular light formations, I open my laptop and find my bookmark for the Hudson Valley UFO site.

  Years before I was born, small towns in upstate New York were inundated with UFO sightings over the course of one summer.

  According to the debunkers and skeptics, the massive ship was a group of small airplanes flying in close formation over the rural areas at night. The same explanation has been used for other reported UFOS over Death Valley and in the Pacific Northwest.