‘You look refreshing,’ I said and kissed her on her cheek. Only a hint of stubble bit at me. She patted my hand. ‘She is a vision, isn’t she? Cloville does good Patsy.’
‘How’s Simka been doing?’ I asked.
‘Good! Really good! She’s barely ever in the cage any more. She’s doing a show most nights and they’ve really taken to her. Simka Deville was the name she’s chosen and it seems to fit. She really is a little firecracker. A demon of a dancer too.’
Deville. Go figure. I laughed. ‘He always did bring a bit of hellfire to the house, Jack did.’ I smiled and Jeffrey wrapped up his set with a dramatic bow.
I wolf-whistled the way Jack taught me when I was seven. I always managed to fuck it up and get more spit on myself than noise out of my mouth, but screw it. It was fun. ‘Go Patsy! You go, girl!’
Bubbles laughed and tipped a finger at Cherry Fondue behind the bar. ‘Cherry girl, give Merritt another drink. On me, darling. She is possibly the best sister to grace our humble bar.’
‘Aw,’ I leaned in and kissed Bubbles on her cheek again and thanked Cherry when she set my drink in front of me. Cherry was six three out of heels, so she was six six behind the bar. Her dress was white like a barmaid, her apron red with cherries all over. Her hair was the red you see in a crayon box and her lips matched. Big green eyes and earrings like her namesake. Cherries hung from her big lobes and she wore a necklace that bore her moniker in gold. She was stunning.
Next came my brother in his female form. Belting out Dolly and working everyone up. I grinned the whole time. I couldn’t have been prouder if he’d won Miss America. I gave another sloppy wolf whistle when he finished and when he bowed he held his Dolly wig on good and tight. His falsies barely moved. He had those puppies strapped for war.
‘So this is where you are?’
I turned and found myself face to face with Matthew. Handsome, sweet, hair fetish, oblivious Matthew. ‘How did you–’
‘You were all together the night we met, remember? The girls told me where they worked that night. I thought I’d come check it out. Didn’t figure you’d be here.’ He ordered a beer from the bar, extra lime and turned to the show.
‘Year. My friend Jeffrey – aka Cloville Yum-Yum – was the ... well, yeah. Here I am!’ I said, my voice high like I was nervous. Because I was!
‘I hope you don’t think I was checking up on you,’ Matthew said over the din. ‘I mean, I hope you don’t think that–’
‘No, no!’ I had seen the real surprise in his face when he found me and I heard the real worry in his voice now. Matthew was a lot of things, handsome, nice, sexy, but he wasn’t a stalker dude. ‘I totally do not think that.’
‘Sweet boots,’ he said. ‘In fact, I am digging the whole good girl in dirty dress thing.’ He leaned in, kissed my bare shoulder and then my neck.
My body responded immediately. My nipples pressed my lace bra and my panties grew damp in the space of a few heartbeats. This current man, I want you to have him out of your system by the time I get back ...
‘You don’t think it’s too much?’ I practically gasped.
‘Nah. The longer denim shorts take the slut factor away from the knee high boots on bare legs,’ he said. ‘Not that I’m a fashion guru by any means.’
I snorted. ‘Maybe not, but you are right.’
‘Hey, I try,’ he said. ‘And on top of it, Merritt, you are at a drag bar. It’s not as if understated is required. Hell, it’s not as if it’s even expected.’
I laughed and sipped my drink. Cherry Fondue raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me. Then he looked pointedly at Matthew then at me and fanned himself like he was menopausal.
‘True story,’ I said. I chewed my cocktail straw. I had smoked briefly in college, mainly during finals and nights out drinking. Which turned out to be most of the time. But I stopped when I graduated. And I’d never gone back. Right now I would have given a bazillion dollars for a cigarette.
Matthew leaned in and his chest pressed my arm. He put his lips in my hair and kissed me. ‘So I really missed seeing you last night. Your friend, is he OK now? Can we maybe get out of here after this set? Spend some time together?’ His jeans brushed my bare thigh and I felt his hard cock right there, waiting for me.
And despite my feelings, that very much confused me, by the way, for Penn, I wanted it. I wanted him again. I wanted to fuck him one more time and get him out of my system. Maybe to get the last six months of intoxicating but dizzying chaos out of my system. And then I could figure out what Penn Fratila really meant to me.
‘Sure. I think he’s good. Let’s go.’
‘Now?’
‘Yes, now.’ Before I change my mind.
I took his hand and said to Cherry. ‘Tell the boys I’ll call them. And tell them they were to die for.’
He nodded, winked, looked at Matthew and gave me two thumbs up like I’d scored a winning goal in hockey. ‘No prob.’
There we were in my foyer again. This seemed to be our place, Matthew and me. Only now my ass was pressed to the foyer table, my long denim cut offs on the floor. Matthew pushed his condom-sheathed cock to my pussy and teased me. Testing me by putting only the head in, pulling out, running the slick cap of his hard-on along the wet slit of my cunt. I pulled at him, but he was stronger than me and he only laughed.
‘Patience is a virtue,’ Matthew said.
‘I’m not very virtuous,’ I said, honestly.
More soft laughter. I pulled at him with all of me, my hands, my legs, I leaned in to kiss him. Willing him to come to me – kiss me, enter me, fuck me.
‘Matthew, come on!’ I said. But again he made me wait, sliding his cock along my inner thighs so I jostled on the table like a bird on a wire.
‘For some reason I feel like I need to savour this,’ he said. His big light eyes finding mine and staring at me as he slipped into my body slowly. Slow enough to make me hold my breath. Slow enough that my heart pounded in my chest so hard I could see it under my red blouse. ‘Let me savour it, Merritt.’
I nodded. Did he know? Did he know that I was pretty sure this was it? We were done? Did this man sense it in me? It broke my heart a little, but the feel of him in me was too intense to think about all of that. All I could think of was how my body felt, crushed to his, open for his, taking his cock deep.
Matthew buried his face in my hair. His hands grabbed at my bottom, pulling me flush to him so he could rock into me with a rhythm that stole my breath away. ‘Right there,’ I managed.
He held me still, big palms pinning me to the red wooden table. My elbow banged the mail tray and it slid to the floor with a clatter. Neither of us laughed or even reacted. I spread my thighs wider for him, pulled at him, leaned in to him when he inhaled deeply. My hair smelled like lilacs and lemons. Even I could smell it. ‘Right there?’ he whispered, slamming into me faster, deeper still. Angling my hips just so, so that the pressure of his thrusts stimulated my clit with a sublime pressure.
A building pressure and need filled my womb and I leaned my head forward toward him even as I angled up to meet him. He grabbed my long ponytails and fucked me so that my ass slipped along the wood. He yanked me forward before I could slide back too far. Matthew’s mouth came down to find my bottom lip, nibbled. My shoulder, my collar bone, my nipple. He bit me there, slipping his tongue along that rosy flesh before clamping it between his teeth so that the pain resonated to my pussy like a lightning strike.
‘Oh, fuck.’ I came. Hard and fast, my body milking him until he caught the tip of one of my pigtails in his lips and tugged my hair so that it bit into my scalp. Matthew came, my hair firmly gripped between his white teeth, his strong fingers biting into my skin.
I panted, laid my head against the wall while the little flickers and twitters of orgasm worked through my pussy. He was still in me, filling me with a warm sexual presence. ‘Wine?’ I asked.
‘You betcha.’
We staggered, flushed and sated, into the kitch
en and I poured out two glasses of Syrah while he built a cheese and meat platter from my recently purchased Italian cold cuts.
‘You Italian?’
I laughed. ‘Nope. But one of my best friends is. Her grandmother taught me, growing up, the importance of keeping nice meats and cheeses on hand.’
‘Good woman,’ he groaned rolling some salami with some Provolone and shoving it into his mouth. ‘Good, wise, wonderful woman,’ he groaned and popped a pepperocini into his mouth. We went to the sofa and I curled up against him. His jovial, warm, sexy presence made me happy. I could feel guilty tomorrow.
We talked of the day and the reality show he found, the gaudy housewives with the huge problems of spending money or more money. We talked of Italian meats, drag queens, the best way to bread and fry rockfish and who would have the cheapest prices on bushels of crabs this summer. We talked. And we ate. And when I laid my head in his lap to watch the evening news and I felt his cock hard and ready all over again, I unzipped his fly and took him in my mouth.
‘Merritt ...’ Then he hissed. ‘You don’t have to ...’ Then he groaned.
‘Oh, but I want to,’ I said, my lips around his cock. I pulled back and tickled the head of his cock with the tips of my pigtails. He grew harder still in my hand and I smiled. He really did dig hair. ‘I like how hard you are. It turns me on,’ I said.
He pulled the bands from my hair and it fell around my face, crimped into waves from the elastic near the bottom. I brushed the hair around his lap and he thrust up into the soft tangle of my hair. ‘Merritt, Jesus, you’re driving me crazy.’ I cupped his balls and lowered my mouth to him again. My face lost behind a curtain of long brown waves.
‘Good, that’s the point.’ Then I was silent, working him with my mouth. Licking him, sucking. I stuck my middle finger in my mouth and wetted it and then I softly, gently, waiting for his body to give me permission, worked my finger into his ass. He let me, pressing down to meet me, making my entry easier. I pressed the pliant marble of his prostate with my finger and his cock jerked in my mouth.
Matthew put his hands gently on the back of my head, his fingers tracking in the fall of my hair. He held me there as he drove up to fuck my mouth in almost tender thrusts. ‘I’m not going to last long, baby. I’m not.’
‘It’s OK,’ I said. I sucked him harder, licking along the ridge of his tip. I lapped at the small glistening button of precome and smiled at how ready he was to go. ‘Come for me. Come in my hair, Matthew.’
Now he groaned like a dying man. But one dying of the most wonderful thing. One ready to greet heaven and feel the fleeting bliss of letting go. ‘Holy ...’ Then his words were lost again and he was a thrusting mad man, trying to bury himself in my throat until that precise moment where he breathed, ‘Now. God, Merritt, now.’
I pulled him free of my lips, working him with my hand, my fist a cupping, grasping blur. His soft flesh warming my palm. And he went. Coming hard in long pearlescent spurts that dotted my hair like small gems. Like rain drops. Like snowflakes. I wrapped his cock in my sticky locks and he continued to spasm, crying out, his hands on my back, my shoulder, my neck.
When I looked up at him, grinning and happy, he said, ‘Thank you, Merritt. You really are special to me. I’ll miss you.’
I paused. My throat tightening a bit, my heart breaking a little. But I nodded and kissed his flat belly. He knew. He sensed. He was being a gentleman. I could have some grace too.
When he buried his face between my legs, pinning my thighs wide and licking at me to wring just a few more orgasms from me before we went our separate ways, I let him. I let him and I cherished it and I came with a kind of dirty abandon only found in surrender.
When he left he said, ‘Good bye, Merritt.’ Not I’ll see you soon, or we’ll see each other again. He said good bye and I said, ‘Good bye, Matthew.’ And I kissed him.
Chapter Twenty-seven
I WOKE TO A POUNDING on my bedroom door. What day was it? Saturday. Thank God. The panic left me and I sat up, pushing my hair off my face. It was crunchy and for a moment I was confused. Until I remembered Matthew and my blow job and then I smiled. I pulled it up into a ponytail but didn’t pull it all the way through. So then I had a crunchy, mussed ‘paintbrush’ as Jeffrey calls it. I yanked a sweatshirt and leggings on and staggered to the door.
‘What is this about a ton of men? What is this about a man a month? What is this? When are you going to get your head on straight and go ahead and get back together with Drake?’ My mother stood in my front door with a box of donuts and a frown.
‘Mother ... what? Um, what?’ I had just woken up and had no idea what she was talking about. No coffee yet but the sugar and fat laden pastries sure did smell good despite her insistent barrage of questions. I yanked her in before any neighbours saw and ordered, ‘Come into the kitchen. For God’s sake, at least let me have coffee if we’re going to re-enact the Spanish Inquisition.’
She snorted but followed me, her subtle but flashy sandals whispering on the hardwood. She wore a festive summer dress that made her look ready for a garden party instead of a water board session with her very confused, very sleep deprived daughter. ‘Now, let me ask this, are you bouncing from kid to kid butting in? First it was Jack and now I heard you’re trying to get them to commit to each other. Now you’re back here demanding that I reconcile with my cheating husband who not only was cheating on mebut was caught rubbing peckers with another man in my very own house. So he was cheating with the opposite sexof all things. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay, it was just something I would have preferred to be let in on, oh say, beforethe nuptials?’
‘He was confused,’ she said, defending of all people my ex husband. Did everyone rate him but me? ‘He thinks he might like – you know – both now. Both boys and girls.’
‘Well, that’s great for Drake, Ma, but I don’t think that I even care anymore, let alone want to reconcile so that we can find out if he is indeed bi the next time he wants to wander. Bottom line is he cheated on me. With who is irrelevant. Whom?’ I asked, measuring out coffee into the machine.
‘Whom,’ my mother said. Then frowned. ‘I think.’
I waved a hand at her. ‘Whatever. Grammar aside, I don’t love him anymore. Why are you picking on me? Got bored with Jack?’
‘Jack and Jeffrey are wonderful together,’ she said and smiled. ‘I think they should commit to each other and adopt a baby!’ Then she clapped.
‘Ahhh, the much anticipated baby. Is that what this is all about?’
‘Well, no. But Merritt, I am not getting younger. Is it so wrong that I would like just one of my children to give me a grandchild?’
‘Of course not, but you cannot run around like some dictator trying to force them to mate in captivity either.’
‘I would never–’ my mother said, bristling.
‘But you are!’
I opened the doughnut box and browsed. Hmm. I was thinking the good old fashioned cinnamon cake doughnut was looking mighty fetching. My mother brushed back my long angled bangs and frowned. ‘Your hair is ... stiff.’
I blinked. ‘New hair product.’
‘I don’t like it,’ she said, wiping her hand on a napkin.
‘Yeah, I probably won’t be using that brand again,’ I said and had to suppress a laugh.
‘Well, I don’t want you to breed in captivity. But I do want you to be happy. So I ...’ Now she was fidgeting, looking suddenly nervous.
Uh-oh. ‘Ma, what did you do?’
‘Nothing big. It’s no big deal at all, really.’
‘Great. Then tell me what it is.’
‘I invited someone over for brunch. With you.’
‘Who?’
‘Drumph,’ she said, suddenly craving a doughnut so bad she needed to shove one in her mouth mid-word.
‘Who?’ I barked.
My mother wiped her mouth, sighed, and said, ‘Drake.’
Shit.
This was a
ctually a good thing, I told myself. After recalling Drake’s drunken visit not too long ago, I realised I might have to clarify for everyone,barring me and Jack and Jeffery, that there was no possibility for reconciliation. I did not want to be married to him, straight, bi or otherwise. I did not want to have babies with him. I wished him well but that was all. I did not hate him but I didn’t love him anymore.
And it was time I dealt with the hurt and betrayal that still seemed to haunt me when I wasn’t looking.
‘Now off you go. You really need to not be here. And, Mom, while we’re on the subject, you need to find a man. Someone to fill your time and float your boat and make your heart go pitter patter ...’
‘Merritt!’
‘Mom, trust me. You need it. It will make you pay less attention to me and Jack and our love lives and more to your own.’
‘Merritt,’ she said, but softer.
‘Ma, Dad’s been gone for a very long time.’
‘Too long.’
‘I know it.’
‘Merritt,’ she said and shook her head.
‘You know I’m right. Now go. I have to let down an ex in the best possible way.’
‘Are you sure there’s no–’
‘Nope. No chance. No making up, no little Merritts or Drakes. You’ll have to hope for that with the next one.’
She sighed. ‘Fine. But I’m taking a doughnut.’
It was rare that my mother made me laugh long and loud. This time she did. She kissed me goodbye and I hopped in the shower fast and pulled on some faded jeans and a wife beater when I got out. I pulled my wet hair up into a ponytail and shoved my feet in some flip flops. No reason to dress up for this.
‘Merritt,’ Drake said. He moved into kiss me and I backpedalled, patting his arm instead.
Calendar Girl - An erotic novel (Xcite Erotic Romance Novels) Page 19
