Summer Fling

by Tarrah Anders

  I need Em to pick up her phone; that’s what I need more than anything right now.

  12

  HER

  You know what really sucks? Dropping your phone in the toilet.

  You know what sucks even more than that? There being urine in said toilet bowl.

  Yesterday afternoon, Willie and I talked Effie into day drinking, since it was still technically our day off. During one of my many bathroom breaks, my phone took a dive and, in response, I got further shit-faced.

  The drinking wasn't due to a celebration, but rather a reaction to a run in with him. I felt like I was twenty all over again. He looked the same: tall, athletic, gorgeous. This time, his hair was slightly gray around his temples and he was wearing his wedding ring. On his arm was a beautiful redhead, about my height, and very pregnant. Our eyes connected and when recognition hit the both of us, we both stopped in our tracks, unable to move. We stood stoically, staring at each other as if, right in that moment, we were reliving that summer we spent together all those years ago. Both his wife and Willie initially look confused as they look back and forth between us. Willie quickly connected the dots as to who he was, but the redhead remained confused. She said something to him and got no reaction, then shook his arm and repeated herself, but he paid her no attention. His gaze was locked on me and vice versa.

  Right when his wife looked like she is going to blow her lid, he shook his head and then finally acknowledged her. They spoke heatedly. I couldn’t hear their words, but she was clearly upset and she kept motioning in my direction. With one final word, she turned on her heel and stormed away. He looked back at me, shook his head slightly and then dashed away in her direction. He looked back once more before they got into his convertible and took off.

  Several summers had come and gone since our tryst, but that was the first I’d seen of him. Once I found out he was married and confronted him, we’d gone our separate ways. I remember thinking at the time I was falling in love with him.

  No, I did love him.

  The heartbreak and betrayal I experienced that summer is the reason I never date tourists. Then along comes Royce, the tourist-yet-not-a-tourist, and we've been dating all summer. I've been helping him with his business and with his home, and we’ve been sharing food, fun, and more orgasms than the law allows. I'm definitely falling for him, and each and every time we see each other, I fall a little deeper. Though I intended this thing with Royce to be a summer fling, I’m not sure it can be called that anymore.

  From the chance sighting of him, to the worry induced by my thoughts of falling in love with Royce, I took to the alcohol. And, of course, when I really wanted to drunk dial Royce, my inebriated ass dropped my phone.

  I'm dragging ass all around the house this morning while getting ready for work. The shop doesn't open until ten, but I didn't go to bed early and, by the looks of the trash in the kitchen, a lot of drinking went on last night.

  An hour later, I'm unlocking the back door and walking into the shop. I drop my bag off in the office and then weave through the aisles to the front of the store to make sure everything is in place. I’m more than a little surprised to look up and see Royce standing at the front door, his back to me and his hands in his front pockets.

  I flip the sign and unlock the doors.

  "What are you doing here so early?" I ask, holding the door open for him.

  "You haven't been answering your phone, I got worried. I need to talk to you," he says, rushed.

  "I dropped my phone in the toilet and then continued to pee in the toilet, directly onto my phone," I explain, looking at my feet.

  A smile spreads to his face as I look up. "So, you weren't purposely ignoring me?" he asks.

  "No, why would you think that?" I ask, for clarification.

  "My ex was in town."

  "That makes two of us," I mumble.

  "Wait, what?" he says.

  "I spotted my ex last night. But wait… Sylvie is in town?" I ask.

  "Sylvie? She was, but she isn't anymore."

  "Oh shit, you saw her? What happened?"

  "Well, she signed an agreement to do business with my girlfriend for starters," he says, giving me a meaningful look. It’s clear he means I’m his girlfriend, but I didn’t sign any—

  My hand flies to cover my mouth and two things occur to me at once.

  "You called me your girlfriend!" I say against my palm.

  "You focus on that?" he asks.

  "Let me get this straight: Ms. Callaway is your ex, Sylvie?" I ask for further clarification.

  "Callaway is her maiden name. But, yes."

  "Her jewelry line is called S. Callaway. I can't freakin' believe this. What the hell am I going to do? I cannot do business with her. How do I get out of it?" I look to Royce with panic filled eyes.

  "Well, we can call her to cancel the agreement that you guys signed for business. I can have my lawyer draw up some contract cancellation requests, if she gets technical with the situation.” he replies.

  "Ugh, this sucks." I run my hand over my eyes. "Not what my hangover needs right now."

  "So, you saw your ex? What happened?" he asks.

  "Nothing. We stood there staring at each other. It was awkward, especially since the last time I talked to him; I was calling him all sorts of names." I wave my hand dismissively.

  "What happened?"

  "Then or yesterday?"

  "Both?" he asks.

  "Then, I found out he was married. Now, he's still married, with a kid on the way. His wife was trying to talk to him, but he wasn't reacting. Then when he finally did, they turned and left."

  "Wow. Do you think she knows?" he inquires.

  "I don't know. I can't imagine that she would. Why would she knowingly come with him back to the scene of the crime, you know?"

  "And your phone is now…?"

  "Full of piss." I laugh. "We got drunk last night. It's still sitting in a bag of rice in the kitchen. I need to disinfect it, but I think I’d rather just order a new one."

  The bell chimes over the store door as he walks into the open space. He stops short when he notices I'm not alone.

  "Hi, um, I need to speak with you," he says softly.

  "Who's this?" Royce looks between us. He clearly notices my posture went tense when the man approached.

  "Pete. This is Pete, the ex." I use my fingers to make quotation signs.

  "Would you like me to stay?" Royce looks to me. I shake my head and mouth ‘it's okay.’

  He nods and smiles. "I’ll come back later. I just wanted to check on you, let you know about Sylvie and… yeah." Royce looks nervously back to Pete, who stands stiffly, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Royce leans in kisses me on the cheek and says, "I’ll give you two some privacy. I'm going to call my lawyer, see if I can get those requests drafted up just in case Sylvie gives you a hard time."

  Royce gives the other man one more assessing look and then I'm left alone with Pete.

  Busying myself folding merchandise on a table, I muster my best calm, unaffected voice. "I don't know why you need to speak with me. I think I said all that needed to be said years ago."

  "You did. And I know that what I did then was inexcusable. I just wanted to apologize," he says. "I was a dumbass then. The marriage was still new and I was struggling with my new role. While I was here, it felt like a completely new world and yet, somehow like my old single life. I liked you. I really liked you," he tries to explain.

  "You made me like you too. Nevertheless, you were married! You knew it couldn't go anywhere," I return.

  "I know." He hangs his head. "I was being stupid and selfish.”

  "That woman yesterday, is she the same wife?"

  "Yes."

  "She's pregnant." I state the obvious.

  "I'm aware. It's our third." He smiles tentatively.

  "Then why are you here, Pete? Really, you didn't need to come and apologize. You are inconsequential to me now," I lie to him. He's colored every relationshi
p I've had since.

  "I saw you, and I went back in that moment. Memories of our relationship rushed before my eyes the second our eyes connected, including the messy ending. I felt like I needed to talk to you, to say that I'm sorry for lying to you and leading you on."

  "Does your wife know?" I ask.

  "She does. She was with me when you called me that night. Then yesterday, she put two and two together."

  "I wish I could say I'm sorry, but I'm not."

  "I wouldn't expect you to say anything."

  "You’re the one who fucked up," I state.

  "I did. Trust me, I know that." Pete nods.

  "Do you need to say anything else? I have work to do and a hangover to get rid of."

  "I guess that's all," he shrugs.

  "Then have a nice life, Pete."

  "The same to you too, Em. You look good. And I hope that man” — Pete tilts his head toward the front door — “treats you right."

  "What about him?" I ask.

  "He was looking at you like you hung the moon, I’m happy for you. Anyways, it was nice to see you," he says and leaves. “Thank you for letting me talk to you for a few minutes.”

  I blow out an exasperated breath. What the fuck else will happen today?

  HIM

  What are the odds that both Emma’s ex and my ex were here in Sweeny on the same day? It's a Twilight Zone type of day. Then her ex comes into her shop. I wanted to pound the guy into the ground, but he’s not worth it. He doesn’t have her now — I do. Still, I wanted to punch him for hurting her once upon a time. I know she wanted me to stay, but I needed to call my lawyer as soon as I could to get the necessary paperwork drawn up to cancel the contract. I am just hoping Sylvie won’t cause any further problems.

  I walk into the clinic and run directly into Jackson. I haven't seen him for a few weeks and figured he went on with his nomadic ways.

  "Hey, bud," he greets me.

  "'Sup? How have you been?" I return.

  "Good, good. I shacked up with some honey outside of town, so I've been chilling a lot with her. You know how summer flings go." He shrugs nonchalantly.

  I don’t, not really. I've never had a fling that didn't develop into more, so they were never classified as a fling. I’m a commitment guy, so flings are out of the question.

  "Anyways, I think she and I have one more week and then I'm heading out."

  "Where to next?" I ask.

  "I'm contemplating backpacking my way around Europe or something. I have some cash saved up that will at least get me started. I can pick up odd jobs while I roam around." He smiles lazily.

  I clasp his shoulder and shake it a little. "Good on you. We should gather the posse for BBQ and have some beers. Invite your girl maybe?"

  "Yeah, sure. I'll check with her. This place looks awesome by the way," he notes, looking around.

  The furniture is placed where I wanted it, the reception desk is stocked with supplies, and each room is ready to start seeing patients.

  "You sure you don't want to stick around, set down some roots? We're holding interviews starting today for staff. You always have a ready job here," I offer him.

  "Nah, I've been here too long as it is. I'm getting itchy," he explains.

  The door behind us opens and in walks, a young woman I've never seen before.

  "Hi. I'm here for the interview?" she says nervously.

  Jackson looks back to me and smiles. He hitches his thumb toward the street indicating he's gonna take off. We shake hands before he leaves. I ask the applicant to sit, while I grab Cyrus from the back.

  We interview technicians, receptionists, and office managers throughout the day. By the end the day, we’re sitting on the floor in the middle of the clinic’s entryway surrounded by resumes and our notes from the interviews. We should have done group interviews for each position, rather than back-to-back interviews with individuals, because that took all darn day. But, after some debate, Cyrus and I feel satisfied with the three chosen resumes in front of us.

  I kiss her behind her ear as my hips pump slowly into her. I have my hand on her ass cheek gripping her as her pussy milks my cock. She's panting, pressing her ass into me as she reaches her orgasm with a breathy moan. Once she comes down, I roll her onto her back and situate myself between her legs. I hold her by the hips, angle her up slightly, and pound into her.

  Sweat drips from my brow and falls onto her chest as I fuck her. Pleasure races up my spine as I start to come, while a hiss of satisfaction escapes through my clenched teeth. Her pussy pulses as I finish.

  "There's a million ways I want to sex you," I say my voice thick with desire and a bit of exhaustion.

  "Sex me?" she asks with a giggle.

  I pull out, remove the condom, and toss it into the wastebasket. She rolls onto to her side to face me.

  "Fuck you, do you, make love to you," I whisper as I lean down and crawl back into bed beside her. She hitches her leg over my hip and slants her mouth over mine, kissing me passionately. In just moments, my cock is at her entrance, ready again, and eager to dip back inside. I lightly press into her with just the tip of my cock and groan at how wet she is, how amazing all the nerve endings on my cockhead feel to be surrounded by her. I'm playing with fire, by inching my way back into her without a condom, but she feels so inviting, so warm. When she moans loudly and arches her back, my cock presses another couple of inches inside. I push her onto her back and hover over her.

  Fuck! This feels too good. My cock feels amazing being wrapped in her, skin to skin. I could blow my load any second now. It's been years since I've been bare with a woman.

  She moves her hips in a circular motion as she fucks me from below.

  "Fuck. Babe, as good as this feels right now, I'm not wearing a condom," I say, grinding my jaw.

  "I'm clean," she breathes out. "I want you. I need you."

  "Fuck, so am I."

  I start to move and my hips begin to thrust against hers. She writhes underneath me as my hand slides underneath her ass and I pull her body up a little. Her pussy squeezes and contracts as I hit her in the right spot with my cock. She's breathing in short, quick breaths, and then throws her head deeper into the pillow as she squeezes my cock like a vise. Every pull I make feels amazing. All my resistance evaporates and my movements become uncoordinated as I chase my release. I pull my cock out and stroke it twice, releasing my seed onto her stomach. My jaw goes slack as I watch myself paint her flesh with creamy streaks. I find that I fucking love that I just marked her.

  I have cuddled exactly one person in my entire life, and that was my mother when I was a child. I never cuddled with Sylvie; she didn't like to be touched while sleeping, which never bothered me. I figured I wasn’t a cuddlier. But that has changed. Last night marks a ceremonious event: the inaugural instance of cuddling the fuck out of Emma. I think it's my new favorite thing to do. I enjoy all the moments we’ve spent together so far, but cuddling now ranks high on the list.

  I wake up spooning her with my cock fit snugly between her ass cheeks, hard as a rock, with my arm around her middle and her head on my other arm. This feels perfect; this is heaven, I declare to myself silently.

  She shifts in her sleep, wiggles her ass against my cock, and then turns her body to face me. Her arms wrap around my middle and her knee slides between my legs. She hums softly as her head nestles into my chest.

  Yes. This is perfection.

  My eyes close and I continue to enjoy the feeling.

  13

  HER

  I wake to the sound of glass breaking somewhere in the house. I jolt up immediately at the same time Royce does.

  "Stay here," he instructs, holding his hands out.

  He quickly throws on a pair of shorts and leaves the bedroom. I hear more glass breaking and then Royce yells something from downstairs. I quickly put on my clothes and run downstairs. He's not on the main level of the house, so I go down one more level and find him standing on the patio. The entire inside of
the downstairs is covered in glass from the sliding glass doors and the windows. I'm not wearing shoes, so I stop where I am.

  "What the hell happened?" I shout.

  He looks back at me. "I have no idea." He shakes his head and grips the back of his neck. "Stay there. There's a lot of glass and I don't want your feet to get cut."

  I go back upstairs and open the front door. There's a knife stabbed into the door. It holds a note.

  I scream for Royce.

  "And sir, where were you when you heard the glass breaking in the bottom level?" the deputy asks Royce as he sits beside me.

  Motioning to me, he replies, "My girlfriend and I were sleeping. The sound of glass shattering woke us up."

  "What did you do after the noise woke you up?" he asked. “Did you call 911 after or before you went downstairs?”

  "I wasn't sure what happened, and I wanted to see if I could get a look at whoever did this to my property first, but I called immediately after."

  The deputy nods, jots down a note, and then looks at me. "And ma'am, you found the threatening note on the front door, correct? Were you looking for something specific?"

  "Yes, I found it. No, I wasn’t looking for anything. I was going to go around the house to Royce, since the downstairs was covered in glass. I opened the door and was about to walk out when the knife caught my eye," I explain calmly.

  “I see. And where is this note, and what did the contents say?” the deputy asks.

  “It basically said to ‘watch out’, not sure exactly what it’s implying.” I reply.

  "Do either of you have any enemies?" he asks, looking between us.

  One or two faces pop into my head, but surely, none of them are capable of this. "I wouldn't say enemies. There are people who may dislike him or me, but I don't think it’s to the level of vandalizing property."