Julie sounded pretty relaxed when I called her. She was definitely happy to hear from me, but she didn’t come at me like a wild dog for information, like I thought she would. She was a reporter, after all, and she was generally nosy, so I was expecting her to have a million questions for me about J.R. and Tommy—and, truth be told, I was kinda looking forward to talking with her about those things.
But, instead of being all up in my grill, Julie was just mildly inquisitive. With all that was going on in my life, I really didn’t know what to think of it, and I really didn’t want to beat around the bush. Who needs to waste time, when there’s so much that can happen any minute?
“Is everything okay?” I asked Julie. “You seem kinda disinterested. What’s going on? Are you mad at me or something?”
After a brief pause, Julie replied. “Well, yeah, I am,” she said, making her point quickly. “Ever since J.R. joined up with us, things have been different. You have been different. You’ve been keeping secrets from me and not telling me the full story. And this shit with Tommy? Thanks for letting me be the last one to hear about it… Really, Trish, you want me to be excited to talk to you? I’m more concerned about what you’re not telling me, not what you are.”
Apparently Julie didn’t feel like beating around the bush either! I figured she was a little upset with me, but didn’t know it extended so far. I had no idea how badly I’d hurt her—and it was hurt, more than anger, that I’d heard in her voice.
“Jeeze, Julie,” I answered. “I’m really sorry…but, trust me, it’s not that I wanted to keep you in the dark or anything. It’s just that everything happened so fast with both J.R. and Tommy, and it was hard for me to keep up with it all, let alone update you on it… And as far as the shit with Tommy goes, as you can see, it’s pretty ugly and dangerous. I didn’t tell you—or J.R.—about it earlier, to protect you and to try and keep you from getting any deeper into this mess that you already are.”
“I’m a big girl, Trish,” Julie shot back. “When I agreed to help you with all of this, I knew that there were some risks involved, and I accepted those… And, in exchange for all of that, for putting myself at risk, all I expected in return was one thing—honesty. I expected you to keep me in the loop, and, really, I don’t feel like you have.”
Great, I thought to myself. On top of everything else, you’ve gone and pissed off your best friend!
“Julie,” I said, with resignation in my voice. “I’m so sorry, and all I can ask is that you please forgive me. Anything you wanna know, I’ll tell you. Ask me whatever you want, or sit back, and let me start from the beginning. I never meant to hurt you or piss you off.”
“Listen,” Julie said, with resignation in her voice also. “I forgive you, and you don’t need to fill me in on everything that’s already happened...but don’t let it happen again. From this point forward, I want the truth, the whole truth, or, so help me God, Trish Williams, I’m done with you and all your nonsense forever.”
“Fair enough,” I said firmly, without waiver. “From here on out… You have my word.”
“So,” Julie went on, shifting the tone of her voice again. “Tell me… What’s the deal with you and J.R.?”
I was relieved that she wanted to change topics. The new one was something I wanted to discuss, and the old one reminded me of the fact that I was, yet again, lying to my friend.
I was almost through telling Julie the NC-17 rating of my XXX encounter with J.R., I heard phone-1 vibrating on my desk. I went over and saw a message—from Tommy, replying to the earlier one I’d sent him.
Dinner sounds good, it read. Hope you feel better, tty tomorrow. :)
Another piece of the puzzle had just fallen into place, and it became hard for me to concentrate on talking to Julie. She was able to tell that I was distracted—I wasn’t doing a good job of covering it up—and, when she asked me what was wrong, I decided to tell her the truth, but not the whole truth.
“I got a message from Tommy on my other phone, telling me that he hopes feel better, ‘cause of how I stormed out of his apartment this morning,” I said, conveniently leaving out the part about dinner tomorrow night.
“That creep,” Julie responded. “You aren’t still going to talk to him are you?”
“I have to,” I answered. “I mean, it’d be pretty damn suspicious if I just ignored him.”
“Yeah,” Julie replied. “You’re right, but be careful… Keep it all talk—and keep it simple.”
“I will,” I said.
Oh what a tangled web we weave…
~ Chapter 9 ~
Hope you’re feeling better today, Tommy’s text read. And hope you’re still up for dinner later. I am! :) HMB with details.
Tommy wasted no time in messaging me the next day. His text was the first thing I saw when I woke up in the morning. I was amazed, by the way, by the fact that I’d slept in until around 8 a.m. that day, and I feared not having a job was starting to catch up with me.
Feeling much better, actually, I wrote back. And very hungry! Definitely still up for dinner. I’ll be downtown today running errands, so let’s meet somewhere around 5:30. I’ll text you once I figure out where.
I knew exactly where I was going to tell Tommy to meet me for dinner, but I wasn’t going to tell him just yet. The less time he knew out destination, the less time he had to think about and/or research it.
Sounds good, Tommy replied a moment later.
Just as I set phone-1 down, I heard a strange noise coming from the other room, and it took me a few seconds to realize what it was… It was phone-2, ringing. Living a double life was proving to be a challenge—and the hardest part of it was managing two cell phones!
I jumped out of bed, figuring it was J.R. ringing my other line. I figured he must have called Julie and gotten my number—and I figured I had about fifteen seconds to answer before he hung up, and I didn’t want to miss his call, since, after all, he called from “Unknown” numbers, and missing his call meant I’d have to wait from him to call back.
Surprisingly, when I got to phone-2, instead of seeing “Unknown” flashing across my screen, I saw a full, local phone number. It wasn’t Julie’s number, and I hadn’t given this number (or planned to give this number) to anyone else—so I was half-expecting to hear some type of residual caller when I answered. You know—when you get a new cell phone number, there are usually some “residual” calls the first few month, where people—usually collectors, telemarketers, or doctor/dentist offices—are trying to contact the person who had the number before you did.
“Hello?” I asked when I answered, waiting to see what I’d won, where I had an appointment, or how much I owed.
“It’s me,” J.R. replied. “I decided to follow your lead and get a throwaway phone. I picked this one up at the grocery store earlier this morning.”
Ah, the grocery store! I cursed myself for going to a cell phone dealer when I could have just picked up a phone at the market. I could have avoided all that hassle with the clerk! I also cringed a little, though. I was disturbed by how easy it is to be sneaky these days.
“Good thinking,” I said.
“I decided you really should have a way of contacting me at any time, if you have to…and that’s what this phone is for. Your new number is the only one on it—the only one I’ll call or answer from this line—and you can call it whenever you have to,” J.R. went on. “But, right now, enough about that… I was wondering if you were up for some coffee?”
“Coffee?” I asked, still trying to swallow all the info J.R. had just dished re his phone. “Well, I could definitely use some coffee. But I just woke up—and do you think it’s really a good idea for us to go out in public?”
“Who said anything about going out in public?” J.R. replied. “Answer your door.”
Just then, I head a light rapping on my door. Even though J.R. had prepared me for the knock, it nonetheless alarmed me a bit, and I jumped slightly at the sound of it. Without so much as an
other word, I hung up phone-2 and went to the door, where I found J.R. standing. He was holding a trolley of coffee cups in his hand, and still had his phone on, resting, nestled between his ear and his neck.
“Good morning,” I said once I saw him. “Need a hand?”
“If you don’t mind,” he responded, extending the tray of cups. “I didn’t know what you liked,” he started, but then I interrupted.
“So you got one of everything?” I asked. “Where’s your backup with the rest?”
“I didn’t know what you liked,” he picked up, going on as if I hadn’t said a word, “so I got a few different things, to cover the bases.”
I looked down at the four cups and tried to read what the barista had scrawled on the side of each. I was having an unnecessarily hard time reading her fancy writing, but, I figured, whoever had ordered these drinks probably would’ve been able to decipher it.
“A mocha, a cappuccino, a latte, and a chai tea,” J.R. said, perceiving what difficulty I was having. “I figured those four were pretty good choices. Nice variety, for whatever suits your interests.”
J.R. had grabbed his phone and put it in his pocket by this point, and we were both on our way over to the couch. I set the drinks down on the coffee table, then ran my hands over my wrinkled shorts and T-shirt. I felt a little vulnerable and worried about my appearance. I only just woken up and had no idea what I looked like, and I couldn’t help but think it uncanny that J.R. had a penchant for showing up when I was without all of my bells and whistles on.
“So which one is it?” J.R. asked. It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. I looked at the four cups in front of me.
“Actually,” I said, eyeing each of the penned labels, “I take regular, good, old-fashioned coffee—black, with two teaspoons of sugar.”
J.R. looked at me and laughed. “Of course you do.”
“But, since you went to all this trouble,” I swiftly added, “I’ll take one of these… Which one of these is the cappuccino?”
J.R. reached out and fussed with the cups for a bit, then passed me the correct one as soon as he found it. I took a sip of it, and looked at him… waiting.
“What?” he asked.
“I’m waiting to see which you pick,” I answered.
“Oh,” he said, leaning back on the couch, putting his arms out behind him. “I don’t drink coffee—or tea. So, none for me.”
I don’t know what came over me, but something did—and it was powerful and moving. I realized what J.R.’s gesture meant beyond the showmanship of it, and, for the first time in a long time, I felt as though someone actually cared about me in that quirky, cute kind of way that little girls dream of.
In other words, he was wooing me, and it made me want him.
The next thing I knew, I’d set down my cappuccino, stood up, and held out my hand, palm up, toward J.R.—“Come with me,” I said. “I have something else you might like, then.”
~ Chapter 10 ~
“Sorry,” I said. “But I haven’t had time to clean up yet.”
I was apologizing for the fact that my bed was still unmade from me having recently slept in it. J.R. had called on me so early, and, like me, my bedroom was something I hadn’t had time to attend to before he got there.
“It’s okay,” J.R. said. His hand was still locked with mine, and he squeezed it as he brought his other arm around to embrace me. “Things are about to get a lot messier anyway,” he added, pressing himself against me. He was already rock hard, and I’d barely touched him yet.
His words—and his hardness—sent shivers all over my body, and I felt a gush of wetness flow from me. I pressed back against J.R. as firmly as he pressed against me, and moaned at the thought of our bodies melting together into a writhing lump of pleasure and passion.
J.R. leaned forward and run his tongue over my neck, up to my chin. Then he ran his teeth over the edge of my face before bring his mouth to mine and kissing me. His kiss felt like a burst of sunshine in the middle of the night, and it made me forget that it was morning, that I was still in my pajamas, and that I was about to fuck him in my unmade bed.
I felt J.R.’s hands moving all over my body. He was teasing and taunting me, touching everywhere except where I longed most to be touched. Perhaps he was simply appreciating my body, and, perhaps, at some other time, I would have appreciated it more—but, right then and there, I wanted his hands on my tits, ass, or pussy so bad… and, if he didn’t do it soon, I was gonna beg for it.
Every time J.R. got near my most sensitive spots, I panted and pulsed a little—and he’d pull away just as I pushed into him. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was driving me crazy.
We were still standing, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I turned my body just a bit, to get better standing ground, and then I pushed J.R. back onto my bed. As he fell against the soft, untamed surface, I started removing my clothes—first my T-shirt, then my shorts, then my panties. I wasn’t wearing a bra, luckily, and, therefore, had to deal with one less piece of clothing.
J.R. kicked off his shoes and started fumbling with his button-down shirt and trousers as he scooted up on my bed, finding a more comfortable, stable position. Once he was naked and seated near the top of my bed, I slid down beside him. No sooner than my body hit the bed, his hands were on it.
“Turn around,” he said as his hands grazed my thighs.
Without hesitation, I followed J.R.’s instructions and turned. As I was turning, he kept running his hands over my skin, and he guided me more gracefully into the position he wanted. He had me on my stomach and knees, leaning over my bent elbows, and as he cupped my ass, he got onto his knees beside me.
J.R. continued to caress and tease my body. He could tell how badly I wanted him, and his cock was dripping in anticipation.
Finally, his hand went between my legs, and he glided his fingers along my creases, which, by this point, were as slippery as they were aching. He stopped for just one more bittersweet moment, drew his fingers to his mouth, licked them, and then brought them back to my waiting pussy.
I groaned rather loudly as he shoved his fingers hard and fast inside me, then slowed down and took on a “come hither motion.”
While his fingers were still working inside me, J.R. moved his body over, positioning himself behind me. He leaned over and pressed his manhood against me as he kept playing with me, running the swollen head over my wet folds and tender love bud. I was in ecstasy from his moves, and I longed to have his dick inside me.
Smoothly, seamlessly, J.R. replaced his fingers with his mouth. He slid down beneath me and brought his face up underneath me, licking and flicking me with his tongue. My body caved on top of him a little as he wrapped his arms around my thighs and pulled me closer to his mouth. I felt as though his tongue reached all the way up inside me and tickled my heart.
I couldn’t hold back any more and wholly surrendered to J.R.’s efforts. I wriggled on top of his face as he went at me with even more fervor. The earth moved for me in no time, and while I was still quaking from the tremors of an intense orgasm, J.R. acted smoothly and seamlessly again—only, this time, he went back to a kneeling position and immediately slid—perhaps slammed—his cock into my pussy. The intensity of his thrust caught me off guard and delighted me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.
J.R. gently massaged my ass cheeks as he slapped his body against them. When his hand trailed up to the small of my back and pressed down firmly, I felt the union between us grow even tighter and stronger, and I clenched down with my own muscles, to make it even more so.
The pleasure at that point was so unbearable for us both. J.R. and I started puffing and moaning at the same time, grinding our bodies together in the most primal fashion. I felt myself get even slipperier and wetter, and I buried my face in my pillow as every inch of me was overtaken by an insanely high climax.
My mind spun, and I could hardly breathe. The next thing I felt was a hard spurt of something hot on
my backside, and I felt J.R.’s thighs trembling just behind me. J.R. sat back, still panting, and I turned my head to look back at him. We exchanged what had to be the most endearing post-coital smiles of all time, and something somewhere inside of me fluttered.
I laid my body flat on the bed and asked J.R. to hand me my T-shirt. I used it as a towel, not as a garment, before turning over, sitting up, and gazing at my partner.
“If you don’t mind,” I said coyly, “I’m gonna hop in the shower, then go finish my cappuccino.”
“I don’t mind at all,” J.R. said. “But, to be honest… I hate to cum and go, but I really should get going anyway. I am due in at the office. I hope you understand.”
“I do,” I said, not knowing whether J.R. was done talking or was going to continue. “No problem. I know you have to go about your day…and I’m glad you stopped by.”
I stood up, and J.R. stood up beside me. He gave me a hug and kissed me on the cheek. “Me too,” he said. “We’ll catch up later.” I hugged him back and held on for a moment, then smiled and walked to the bathroom.
I took my time in the shower and enjoyed every moment, and aspect, of it, from the way the water felt on my skin and the way the suds pooled in the corners of my body to the way the soap smelled and how the steam seemed to suspend, not just surround, me. It was the kind of shower a person takes at the end of a long, long work day, with the kind of reveling that can only happen when a person has known true release and freedom.
I didn’t deserve a shower like that, but I took one because I needed it. My life was in such flux—and was so fucked—that I really, really needed it.
Blast From The Past 3 Page 4
