by Lisa Ferrari
“What? No. No, I’m not saying that at all. I’m saying the exact opposite of that. Look, last night was phenomenal for me. But I know we went kinda fast. We went from our first kiss, our first real kiss, to almost having sex in about three hours. I don’t want you to think that I think we shouldn’t have done what we did, or that what we did was insignificant, because it was significant. Very significant. Look, I just…I want…”
It’s cute to see how tongue tied Kellan is.
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I had one of the best nights of my life last night and I don’t know what you’ve got going on on your end or if you’ve got any other suitors or if you’re also married for all I know, but I hope we can do this again, because I’m really having fun and I’d like to see where this goes. And I know I’m breaking just about every rule of guy code or whatever in that stupid Rules book, which I never read because I think all that stuff is completely stupid and I don’t play games. But I was thinking about it this morning during my cardio and I decided to just tell you how I feel and if you split then so be it.”
I can scarcely believe what I’m hearing. He wants to see where this goes? Holy schnikes. “I don’t want to split.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I love being with you. At the gym, at Mel’s, here at your house, in your pool, on your couch, on a plane in first class, or in your green Lamborghini. Or your white Mercedes. Or your black Corvette. Or on the back of that motorcycle.” I’ve always wanted to be the chick on the back of a sport bike. They’re usually 4’10” and about 90 pounds. Which I’m not. I’d probably break the damn thing. “Look, as long as we’re baring our souls here in light of last night’s fireworks in the Jacuzzi and on the couch, last night was one of the best nights of my life, too. I know for a lot of people sex is like a friggin handshake. They can meet someone, go have wild, noisy sex, be perfectly comfortable doing it, and never see each other again. Denise has that ability. She’s like a guy. But I’m not like that. I’m just…not. And while you’ll probably never know exactly what it’s like to be with you, and to be naked with you, and to, I guess, be the one who is with you, I can tell you that…” My courage fails me. I feel stupid; I’m not sure what to say.
“That what?” Kellan encourages.
“I don’t know exactly. I feel stupid now.”
“Claire, what? Talk to me. Remember last night in the pool when we kissed and you were shivering and you laid that Say Anything reference on me?”
Wow. Points to Mr. Kearns for getting my obscure 80s reference. “Yeah.”
“Impressed, aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Liar. Well, remember when Diane’s well-meaning but slightly douchebag, embezzling father told her that she could still say anything to him? Remember that?”
“Sure.”
“That’s how I feel. You can say anything to me. If you want, I can go out in the garage and get my old boom box and dig an old trench coat out of my closet and stand here holding it over my head playing Peter Gabriel. If that’s what it takes for you to feel comfortable speaking your mind. Please don’t sit around trying to figure out what you should say and then trying to predict how I’ll react and what I’ll say, which will then determine how you’ll react and what you’ll say. Because then it’s not a relationship, it’s litigation.”
“Like in court?”
“Yeah. Like lawyers questioning a witness, asking questions they already know the answers to in order to set up other questions in order to incriminate them and make an otherwise innocent person look like a complete asshole.”
He’s really fired up, and, again, very specific. “Is that what Stacy used to do?”
“That’s exactly what she used to do. I got so sick of it. I’d be all like, ‘Hey, I like these strawberries.’ And she’d be all like, ‘Oh? Really? Are they as good as the ones you ate out of that hooker’s asshole down in Ensenada?’ ”
“Did you really eat strawberries out of a hooker’s asshole?”
“No! I’ve never even been to Ensenada. It just shows how crazy she is.”
“Women can be that way. I don’t know if it’s hormones or estrogen or the female crazy equivalent of roid rage guys get in the gym or what. But it’s the main reason I don’t have very many friends. Besides Denise. And it’s like you said earlier, I don’t play games either. And I don’t do drama. I’d rather sit and read a book on a Friday or Saturday night if it means avoiding all that catty jealous crap. My friends are Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Harry Potter. Expecto Patronum, motherfucker.”
Kellan bursts out laughing. I immediately follow.
Once we’ve recovered, I place my coffee on the night stand and skootch closer to Kellan. “So, what are we saying? That we’re exclusive? That we’re dating? That we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” Holy crap; I can’t believe I just said all that.
“Well, putting labels on it sort of scares me, to be perfectly honest, because we’ve only known each other about a week–”
“Eight days.”
Kellan laughs. “Right, eight days. And I don’t want to sabotage anything by putting pressure on us or trying to make us something we’re not. But yes. I want to continue seeing you. Hopefully naked. I want us to spend time together. Hopefully naked. And I won’t date anyone else. I won’t go out with any other women. Or men.”
“So, can I ask you a question?”
“I get the feeling something is coming, but yes of course you can. You can ask me anything.”
“It’s kinda stupid. And it’s probably just more meaningless catty girl-crap. But the other night at the Turtle, it seemed like you and Stacy arrived together. You were in different cars, but you got there at the same time. It’s not really any of my business, especially since you just told me you are interested in me and that you and she have been over for a while–”
“A long while.”
“I was just wondering.”
“I can tell you. It’s an astute observation. You’re very astute. You have a keen eye. I’ve noticed that about you. You’re very detail oriented.”
This makes me positively soar inside. I’ve always prided myself on being a detail-oriented person.
Kellan continues, “We were at her clinic going over some numbers with her accountant when you texted me to come to the Turtle. I made the mistake of opening my big mouth about it and she basically invited herself along and I didn’t have the heart to be a dick and tell her that I didn’t want her to come.”
“That’s the truth?”
Kellan squints, affronted by my doubt. But I can’t help it; I’ve been lied to in the past. And I’m always gullible enough to believe what I’m told. I’ve always believed in honesty but not everyone else does.
“Of course it’s the truth,” he replies.
“You’re not doing her?”
Kellan laughs. “No, Claire. I’m not doing her.”
“But she wants to do you.”
Kellan squirms a little but finally says, “Yes. I would have to agree that that is a fair assessment. But if it makes you feel any better, I’ve set her up with three of my guy friends. No takers, yet. But we’ll keep trying. Maybe we can get her married off and she’ll move to Vermont or something.”
We both laugh.
“The other thing,” Kellan continues, more serious now, “is that I need to ask you a question. Who is the girl sitting here in my bed right now, naked, with her spectacularly beautiful breasts staring me in the face?”
“You really think they’re beautiful?”
“Uh-huh. I mean, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Everyone has their preferences. You know how much Stacy’s implants cost? Ten grand. They’re good, too. Really good. We went down to a top plastic guy in Beverly Hills. But you know what? They’re not as good as yours.”
I don’t like talking about Stacy, but I know Kellan is simply trying to prove a point. And I don’t want to come off as insecure (which I could quickly let myself
feel), so I keep my mouth shut and focus on the fact that he’s complimenting me.
Kellan leans back, studying my breasts through the soft white bed sheet.
“I could eat them all day.”
I lean back and push the sheet down around my hips and cup my breasts, one in each hand, hoping I look sexy. “Why don’t you?”
Kellan crawls toward me.
I can see his erection inside his little red surfer shorts.
My heart begins to flutter at the possibility of what’s about to happen…in his bed…during the day…when there is light…a lot of it.
Kellan’s phone rings. He looks at it to turn it off but his eyes get big. He answers. “Hello? Really, you’re out front? Okay!” He hangs up. “The Mister Beaumont is here! Get dressed.”
Kellan leaps out of bed, then comes back and kisses me.
“Where are my clothes?” I ask.
“I have no idea.”
Kellan runs out of the room and comes back a moment later with my gym bag. He upends it and dumps its entire contents onto the bed. “Panties. Iron Born tee shirt. Blue jeans. Socks. Shoes. Sundress.”
We hear the rumbling of a diesel engine, followed by the hiss of air brakes.
“There’s no time! Put on the dress.”
I pull my sundress over my head. Kellan takes a moment to admire me in it, especially since I’m going commando. I slip on my flats and he takes me by the hand and leads me outside.
There is a huge semi-trailer truck.
The back lowers and the driver reverses the icy-blue Aventador down the ramp. Slowly. Carefully. There are two pieces of plywood on the ground at the base of the ramp that Kellan says are to prevent the nose of the car from scraping when it backs down onto the street.
Kellan and the driver make a careful inspection of the car.
The car looks crazy.
It looked good in the showroom. It looked good parked in front of the showroom.
But now that it’s here in front of Kellan’s house, it’s even more beautiful than I remember.
Kellan signs some paperwork and gets the keys. The car is officially his. Wow. I feel physically nervous and afraid for Kellan, for having purchased such an expensive and totally outlandish object.
But I love it.
I love the car, I love the fact that Kellan was true to his own conviction and bought the car he truly wanted.
And…I daresay I’m beginning to love him.
I know it’s been eight days and it’s ridiculous.
But after last night and our long talks and what we did in the spa and on his sofa…I already know in my heart that I would agree to marry him if he asked. I would.
The driver asks Kellan for a selfie with the car and Kellan obliges. The driver is so happy and grateful. He’s all smiles as he climbs up into the cab and drives away.
Kellan turns to me with a HUGE smile on his face. “Ready to go for a drive?”
WE SPEED DOWN Auburn Folsom road, going nowhere fast.
Kellan has the Aventador up to 90.
It feels like 40.
He slams on the brakes, slowing us down to the big “45” on the sign just as we pass by it.
We have the removable tops stowed in the front trunk of the car. The sun is shining down, dappling the twisty road with shadow and light, beneath a canopy of green leaves. The wind tosses my hair. It’s exquisite.
“Where are we going?” I ask.
“Anywhere we want, baby.” Kellan flashes his megawatt smile. I can’t see his heavenly blue eyes behind his sunglasses, but he looks so cool behind the wheel, surrounded by the cream-colored leather.
This is all making me horny. Hornier, given how things were just getting interesting when the car arrived.
I reach over and stroke Kellan through his shorts.
He immediately gets hard. He lays that gorgeous smile on me again.
I unzip his shorts and pull him out. Wow. I begin stroking it while he drives.
Kellan reaches over and hikes up my sundress. I spread my legs for him. The sunlight feels so good on my skin. Kellan begins petting the insides of my thighs.
“Okay,” Kellan says, “we have to go home immediately and go for a very quick swim because I want us to get it on beside the pool, in the sun.”
“Sounds good to me, cowboy.”
My phone begins making boop-BOOP-boop, boop-BEEP-boop noises. It’s Skype.
“Who’s that?” Kellan asks.
I pull out my phone.
“Denise is calling.”
“Answer it.”
“Really?”
“If this isn’t a worthy adventure, us driving the Mister Beaumont with our genitals exposed, I don’t know what is. You look gorgeous, by the way. Here, let me put my dick away.”
“Leave it out.”
Kellan flashes his smile at me once more.
I answer and Denise pops up. She’s in her office at work.
“Hi, Deni, what’s up?”
“Oh not much. Just spending my lunch hour going blind on paperwork as always. Where are you? Are you driving?”
I extend my arm so Denise can see both Kellan and me in the car. I angle the phone up to make sure she can’t see his penis. His long, thick, perfect penis that is in my hand at that very moment. I want to suck on it nonstop for about a year.
“Holy shit,” Denise exclaims.
Kellan says, “Hi, Denise. How’s the new ride?”
“It’s good. It seems I ought to be asking you the same question. That’s not the green one.”
“No,” I say, “it’s an Aventador L-P Seven-Hundred-dash-Four. We picked it up down in Newport Beach over the weekend. We were having breakfast in bed when it arrived on the truck a little while ago.”
“Clarice, you little minx. Come by my office. I want to see the car.”
“We can’t right now,” says Kellan. “I’ve got to get home to take care of some business. But how about dinner tonight? Claire and I can squeeze you in before we train. How about Ruth’s Chris at 6:30?”
“Deal. See you guys then. Bye, Claire bear!”
The Skype call ends.
Kellan and I share a look.
“Was that awesome or what?” he asks.
“That was awesome. She’s shitting in her Victoria’s Secret thong right now.”
I get a text from Denise.
Am I crazy or was that his boner?
Because, either that or he has three forearms.
Oh crap. I guess I didn’t tilt the phone up fast enough. I show the text to Kellan. He just laughs.
“What should I write back?”
“Don’t. Let her stew on it for a while. By the time we see her at dinner she’ll be completely freaking out.”
I like that idea. It makes me feel as if I’m on par with Denise, perhaps for the first time ever. Or since she got her J.D. and started making buckets of cash while I hustled for rent money.
But more importantly, it makes me feel alive; it makes me feel sexy; it makes me feel…wanted, and that I’m with someone; really and truly with someone. And I love it.
WHEN WE GET back to Kellan’s house, he opens the garage door with his phone.
“Uh-oh,” he says, “the garage is full.”
“So you have to sell one of your cars? Or park outside?”
“Or get a bigger house.” He leaves that comment hanging in the air, pregnant with possibilities.
We park the new car in the driveway and Kellan leads me by the hand…through the great room…and out to the pool. He pulls me close, pressing his body against mine.
“Now. Where were we?” He kisses me, first with warm, soft lips, and then with a mouthful of tongue. Wow, he’s excited. His erection looks like a big fat cucumber inside his snug red shorts.
He lifts my dress up over my head. I kick off my shoes. I’m naked before him once more. In the full light of day. No possibility of hiding under the purple water like last night.
“Fair’s fair,” I say. I
unbutton his short red board shorts, unzip the zipper, and push them down over his perfect bubble-butt and they fall to his feet. His penis is right there, pointing at me, thick and fleshy.
“Yes it is, Billy Jean,” he says.
I erupt into a huge grin. How did he get that? “I just love that you get my cheesy, ultra-obscure movie references. Who the heck is able to pick out a line from The Legend of Billy Jean?”
“I did. I remember it being an important movie for some reason. I don’t really remember why. Maybe because Christian Slater was in it and he was like a new, sexy, young Jack Nicholson and Heathers and Pump Up the Volume were popular.”
“But didn’t they come out later?”
“Not sure. We can check on IMDB later. Ready to get wet?”
I have no idea what that means but I like the sound of it. I think I’m still wet from last night. Plus, I can’t stop staring at his penis. “God yes.”
Kellan picks me up. “Hold on tight.”
I wrap my arms around him and he jumps into the pool.
We come up laughing and immediately start kissing.
French kissing.
Soul kissing.
Desperate-to-have-one-another kissing.
I love it.
I can’t get enough.
Kellan paddles us over to the diving board. He reaches up and grabs it with both hands. I wrap my legs around him and we kiss for another 20 minutes.
I feel his erection against my vagina. It would be so easy to maneuver him inside me. “You are so hard.”
“You are so wet.”
“Is the no-penetration rule still in effect?” I so do not want it to be.
“Well, we still don’t have any condoms and you’re still not on the pill so, yeah, it would seem that it is still in effect. Is that okay?”
“Absolutely. Actually, I kind of like it. You were right; it does take the pressure off. There’s none of that should-we-or-shouldn’t-we and when-and-where pressure to make it be the most perfect, romantic, mind-blowing sexual experience of our lives.”
“Yeah, because we wouldn’t want the most perfect, romantic, mind-blowing sexual experience of our lives.”
Kellan glances at his designer watch. “I hate to say it but I’ve got some clients to attend to. I’ve got a Skype session in six minutes.”
