by L. M. Carr
With a hard dick and a smile on my face, I watch her ride away before I run through the busy streets back to my apartment and take matters into my own hands.
“SHANE, I HOPE you meet someone nice there. You need to forget about her,” my sister Leslie rambles on and on. “Let her go. I’ve heard he’s back and they’re working it out…I think she’s pregnant.”
My forehead hits the door with a loud thump as I think about how he treated her. He left her broken-hearted and now she might be having a kid with him. I wonder if he’s going to stick around or leave again. What an asshole!
I clear my throat. “Les, I’m over her. I just hate to see her sad. She deserves so much more. You don’t know all the shit she’s dealt with over the years. Seriously, I just want to see her happy.”
“I know little brother, I know.” A moment of awkward silence passes by. I don’t think my sister truly believes I’m over her. “When are you coming to see your nieces?”
“When the stomach bug is gone!”
“Turns out Dale accidentally gave them old yogurt. They’re fine now.”
“How did the idiot not know it was old?” I grind my teeth thinking about how irresponsible and useless the man is.
My sister ignores my question. “You wouldn’t believe how fast the baby is growing.”
This is typical of my sister. She talks about all the happy stuff and forgoes all the crap she’s dealing with because of her loser husband.“What’s he up to anyway?”
“The same. He’s fighting the divorce. He said he’s sorry and that he won’t do it again.”
“And you believe that load of shit?” I pace the floor and stop when there’s a knock on the front door. I walk over and see Collin standing there, carrying a small bag of groceries and a gallon of chocolate milk. “Well, don’t believe him. You know what they say, ‘Once a cheater always a cheater.’” I take the gallon of milk and put it away. I think about the advice I’ve given my sister. That saying might be true for most people, but I learned from my mistake. I will never cheat again. It wasn’t worth what I lost or the pain I caused. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Collin and I spend the rest of the day shooting the breeze, reminiscing about our days as soldiers and the girls of Boston. Everything was good until he said there was something about Remy he thought was off. He called it a gut feeling; he didn’t think I should trust her.
Shortly before seven, I leave the train beneath the city, climb the flight of stairs and walk the few blocks to the diner. I spot an older woman selling flowers out of a five gallon bucket.
“I’ll take these.” I pick out a small bouquet wrapped in clear cellophane before I hand her bill.
“Ahhh…the color of sunshine,” the woman says with a wide smile. I can’t help but look at the gaps where teeth should be. I don’t understand how people in America don’t take care of themselves. All you have to do is open your palm for a handout. It’s the American way for some.
“I hope she likes them,” she calls out as I turn to leave.
From across the street, I see Remy immediately. She looks beautiful dressed in a coral sundress that stops just above her knees. She looks down at her phone as she switches her bent leg and leans against the brick building. She glances up and then turns away. She does a double take when she realizes it’s me. Her glossy lips pull into a wide grin that spreads across her face even though her eyes are covered by large dark sunglasses.
There’s something about the way she looks just standing there, waiting for me which surprises me. With an extra bounce in my step, I take a deep breath, feeling taller and more confident than I have in a long time, and press the button several times. Anxiously with some eagerness, I wait for the walk signal and cross the busy street with a group of Chinese tourists. I break away from the pack and peek into the closed diner before looking at her.
“Excuse me. Can you help me? I’m looking for a petite blonde about this tall with a killer body? Have you seen her?”
“Haha! Very funny!” She slaps my arm playfully. “Dress or no dress I’ll kick your ass!”
“Whoa! You look great!” I offer a huge grin as I decide to take a chance by leaning in and kissing her soft cheek. I inhale the skin at her jaw line. She smells fresh and clean. And I’m sure she tastes even better.
“Thank you.”
“These are for you.” I hand over the bouquet of flowers.
She lifts her glasses and sets them on top of her head, looking at me incredulously. “Wow! Thanks. That was really… sweet of you to get me flowers. Sunflowers are my favorite.”
“What?” I shriek with mock devastation. “Oh no! I can’t have you thinking that!” I wink at her. She rolls her eyes and begins to walk away toward the subway station. Of course, I follow her.
When we arrive at the Sushi Bar, we are greeted and seated within minutes even though the line is out the door. I’m glad I made reservations. We decide to order a few different things and share them. I look at her questioningly when only after four rolls she pats her flat stomach and declares herself to be full. Immediately, I think of her and her huge appetite. I think about the times we would drink a pitcher of beer and share a whole pizza.
“You hardly ate anything,” I argue, feeling annoyed that she’s one of those girls who worries about what she eats. If you’re hungry, then eat.
“One moment on the lips, forever on the hips.”
“What are you talking about?” She’s got a beautiful body with curves in all the right places and perfect tits.
“I had food issues growing up,” she states seriously before her mouth slips into a grin.
“Oh,” is the only thing I say because I can’t tell if she’s joking or not so I don’t push the issue.
“How about we split the last one?” I pick it up, carefully trying to keep the rice in as I dip it into the sauce.
She looks at the roll, nods and takes it out of my hand. With one quick move, she bites almost the whole thing, leaving just what’s in between her fingers.
“Here,” she offers.
I lean across the table and open my mouth, wondering if she’ll play along.Her eyes dance with mischief as she smiles and places the tiny piece on my tongue. I close my lips around her fingers and let my tongue glide around her fingertips.
I grin as I swallow the miniscule bite. “That wasn’t half.”
“I was never good at fractions,” she says as she pops her fingers into her mouth and slowly licks off the remainder of the tangy sauce.
After our bill is settled, Remy excuses herself to the restroom. I wait by the hostess stand for her. I see her side step a big guy who’s just left the bar as he barrels down the hallway toward the men’s room. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I see him push his body into hers, pinning her against the wood-paneled wall. I hear his menacing laughter and my blood begins to boil. With fire in my heels, I rush to her and shove the guy away from her.
“Get your fucking hands off her.”
“Yo, chill bro.” He raises his arms in surrender. “I thought she was someone else.”
“She’s not whoever you thought she was. And even if she were, she didn’t look to fucking happy to have you on her.” Adrenaline spikes in me, my words spit like venom.
“Shane,” her panicked voice brings me back to reality. “I’m fine. Let’s get out of here, okay?”
“Keep your fucking hands to yourself. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?” I glare at him, taunting him so I’d have an excuse to punch him in the face. Another guy comes over and asks if there’s a problem. I wait for his response.
“Nah, it’s all good. White boy here’s got a little temper. ”
I stare after him until he’s behind the restroom door.
I feel Remy’s hand slide over my arm as rests in the crook of my elbow that’s exposed by my polo shirt. Immediately, I’m soothed.
“You’re trembling.” Her free hand rubs along my other arm as we face each other.<
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“It’s okay. I’m okay.” I hear her reassuring words on repeat, but I can’t stop the pounding in my chest. I lift my hand to caress her face. “I thought he was going to hurt you.”
She smiles. “I’m not as fragile as you think.”
A single eyebrow shoots up, challenging her.
“I fight dirty.” She laughs as she links her arm in mine and leads me out of the restaurant as the late summer sky turns shades of orange, pink and purple. It reminds me of long, hot days in the desert.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Where to next?” I ask when I’ve gotten myself back under control.
“This way,” again she leads me in an unfamiliar direction, away from the hustle and bustle of the theater district. She brings the flowers to her nose and inhales.
“Did Jenna tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That I love sunflowers.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
Soft sounds of acoustic music floats through the air when we pass a small park where a few young musicians have gathered to play. She closes her eyes and nods her head keeping in rhythm with the music as she moves from side to side. She’s mesmerizing and I find myself fascinated by her. It’s as if she’s the only one here, alone in her own little world.
“You like to dance.” I state, thinking how sexy she is.
Her eyes flash open, “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘You like to dance.’”
“No, I don’t.” She answers matter-of-factly, but then she whispers, “In fact, I hate it” so softly that I’m sure I’ve misheard.
“That’s too bad. Looks like you’ve got some really good moves,” I look behind her and appreciate her ass.
“What are you doing?” she inquires, pursing her lips tightly.
“Checking out your moves.”
“Well, just so you we’re clear I’m not dancing. I’m swaying.” Her laughter makes me laugh, too.
We lower ourselves on the concrete curb that divides the walking area from the grass. Her tanned legs jut out as she kicks off her flat shoes, revealing cute toenails painted a shade of blue my five-year-old niece would like. She sets the flowers down and reaches back to rest on her extended arms. The thin straps on her shoulders stretch to accommodate the swell of her chest. I feel like a thirteen-year-old looking at his first Playboy magazine as I peek over every few minutes to catch a glimpse of her cleavage. She’s either oblivious or doesn’t mind my roaming eyes.
“So tell me again how you ended up in Boston?”
“For work.” I blink a few times, wondering how much she really needs to know. How I tried my hardest to get a job at the elementary school in my hometown just so I could be close to her? Or that when I realized my ex was never going to give me a second chance, I started looking around at other districts and even out of state? I wouldn’t be surprised if Remy is going to think I’m some fucking pansy who has no balls.
“I know that, but why Boston?”
“I really wanted to get into administration and this is where I was offered a position.”
“Cool. You like being in charge?” She grins deviously at me as she leans forward, scratching her ankle and then dragging her fingernails along her calf.
I smile at her words, wondering if she’s just talking about my role and responsibility as assistant principal. “I do, but I don’t mind giving up control every once in a while. It’s kind of nice when someone else is in charge sometimes.” I smirk. She grins.
“How about you? What exactly are you going to school for?” I nudge her arm with my own. She pulls away and fidgets like she’s suddenly nervous.
“I told you I’m a grad student at BC.”
“Why Boston College?”
“I had to stay close to home.”
“Makes sense. What’s your major again?”
“Mental Health with a minor in Child Psychology. I like to study the brain, I always try to figure out what makes people tick. Why we make the decisions we make. You know the whole ‘nature vs. nurture’ thing.” She squirms again, crossing the opposite leg to rub her other ankle.
“You okay?” I ask just as she jumps to her feet and swats the back of her dress.
“What the hell? Ouch!” Quick slaps to her ass and legs have me laughing and questioning her.
“Ants! There are freaking ants everywhere!”
I look down and sure enough red ants are crawling around in a mad frenzy. I reach forward and slap the ant crawling up her calf.
“Hey!” she practically barks.
“You had an ant on your leg. I swear to God!” I throw my hands up defensively.
When she lifts the hem of her dress, I catch a glimpse of her lace thong fitted perfectly against her curves. I look at her with lust in my eyes and silently tell myself to calm the fuck down.
“Oh my God! Those little suckers bit me!” She laughs. “I’m itchy everywhere.”
“Want me to scratch anything?” I tease even though I’d love nothing more to run my hands all over her.
“Don’t make me change my mind about you, Shane Davis!”
I freeze, knowing I never told her my last name. “How’d you know my last name?”
She looks slightly embarrassed as she shrugs her shoulders.
“Remy,” I chastise her.
“What?” she laughs. “It’s called research.”
“Oh no, I think it’s called stalking.” I grin at her, loving that she took the initiative to find out more about me. I just hope her research ended there.
“That’s it. I’m going home.” She bends to pick up the flowers and her shoes, choosing to walk barefoot through the grass. “I have to stop at the pharmacy to get some cortisone or something.”
“Where’s your phone?” I look back but don’t see it.
“I have it.” She pats her chest, smiles and then waggles her eyebrows. My dick wants to waggle back.
Fifteen minutes later we arrive at the pharmacy. She pulls a thin roll of dollar bills out from her bra, purchases a tube of anti-itch cream and steps onto the sidewalk. Two things happen simultaneously as she gasps loudly and shoves my body back, spinning me around so she’s pinned underneath my chest. What the hell? I look to my left and then to my right, but I only see a dark sedan pass by, a few people walking together and an old homeless guy digging through a garbage can.
“Hi,” she whispers as she looks up at me. I have no idea what expression is on my face but surprise has to be at the forefront.
“What’s going —”
My words are silenced when Remy’s hand reaches across the back of my neck, pulls me down and crashes her lips onto mine. Never in my life has a second kiss felt as good as the first. Not even with her. Remy’s soft lips are warm and welcoming. I slip my hands around her tiny waist and hold her close. My erection presses into her belly as she continues to devour my mouth, driving me wild with every swirl of her tongue against mine. I don’t know how long we stand there kissing on the sidewalk, but it ends too soon when her hands slide from my neck to my face as her fingertips smooth over my skin. She bites my lip playfully, bringing the abrupt, heated kiss to a close. I pull back just in time to see her shut her eyes and spread her mouth into a small smile. She moans when I kiss her forehead and I enjoy the moment as I memorize they way she feels in my arms.
“Shane,” she whispers quietly. “I like you.”
This beautiful, incredibly smart girl feels something. She feels something for me. I want to tell her that I’m becoming, if I’m not already, infatuated and obsessed with her, but I know that will just scare her away. I’m done abiding by society’s rules, playing the waiting game of telling someone how I feel. When I graze my fingertips along her cheeks then across her lips, she closes her eyes and breathes softly the words, “Maybe too much.”
My interest is heightened because her words mirror what I feel. “Too much, too fast, too soon” says the little voice in my head. I squeeze her in
to my chest and rub circles into her back, comforting her, comforting myself.
A deep, ragged, perhaps cleansing breath escapes as she relaxes in my arms.
Needing to lighten things up, I smile, press my tented pants into her belly.“I really like you, too.” I joke with a chuckle.I hope it serves as a reminder of what I whispered in her ear at the diner.
She tilts her head while her green eyes become sober and her lips tighten. “You like me or my body?”
“Both,” I answer honestly. “You’re beautiful and sexy as hell.”
Embarrassed by my words, she looks away until I draw her attention back to me with additional words. “Remy, I love your tenacious spirit, your sense of humor, your smile, your lips…God, I love your lips.” I kiss her lightly before continuing. “These little hands work so hard, writing papers and serving others. I see the way you treat people like Mr. Johnson from the diner. It’s obvious you care about others. You’re very selfless; you put others first, don’t you?”
She opens her mouth to rebut, but I silence her with my index finger. “You’re the complete package. Smart, sexy and gorgeous.”
“You make me sound like Mother Teresa.”
“Yeah, but a hell of a lot sexier.”
“Believe me, I’m no saint.”
I bend down and scoop up the small, plastic bag she dropped on the ground when she kissed me. “Come on. Let’s go.”
We walk hand in hand, her small hand fits perfectly tucked in mine. If she thinks I don’t notice the subtle glances back, looking behind her, she’s seriously mistaken. I was trained to keep my eyes open and survey the surroundings to seek out and extinguish threats. As we pass the storefronts, I purposely stop and look at the displays in the windows, giving her the opportunity to silently confirm that we are, in fact, alone. I’m not sure what spooked her, but I’ll be damned if I don’t keep my eye on her. I take care of what’s mine. I protect what’s mine and Remy is mine even if she doesn’t realize it yet. When we reach the train station, the words begging her to come back to my place almost tumble out not only because I am hard as a rock, desperate to take her to bed and make her mine, but truthfully, I’m not ready to say goodbye. Being with this girl does something to me; she makes me feel alive, she’s the spark that ignites the fire deep within me.
