by Penny Wylder
I take a deep breath to clear my head, pressing down my anxiety and focusing on what I want. “I decided being nervous wasn’t in my best interest. Especially if I want to learn.”
“I think you could be a good student,” he says, gently pressing me against the wall. “I’d be willing to give you a private lesson. In whatever carnal subject you want.”
I feel the brush of his fingers against my hand, and he raises my wrist to his lips, sucking gently at my skin. I realize just how wet I am again as it feels like he’s sucking directly on my clit. A small sound comes from me, in the back of my throat, and Philip smirks at me. He knows just how much I want him right now, and I don’t care. I need this, I want him to fuck me senseless, just so I can forget.
I can feel his cock against my leg, hard inside his jeans, and I’m glad I wasn’t wrong about him wanting me too. “I think you could be a good teacher,” I say, “and I’ll let you choose as many subjects as you like.”
His eyes flare, and he slips a hand around the back of my neck. Our faces are so close that we’re sharing breath, and I know he’s about to kiss me. God, I want him to kiss me. It’s been so long since I kissed anyone but Bryan, the guy I’m not supposed to be thinking about. “I just hope I don’t need too many lessons,” I say. Maybe if I make that caveat he won’t be as horrified by my lack of sexual skill.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “You don’t have to worry about a thing with me.”
I feel like a bucket of ice has been dumped over my head, and I’m no longer in a sex shop in L.A. I’m one year in the past, at a bar in San Francisco, dancing with a guy on our third date—Bryan. He’s a flirt, and a terrible dancer, but I already like him. Earlier I’d seen him chatting up a waitress, smiling brilliantly. I knew that smile. It was the same one he used on me. “You’re not going to ditch me for some waitress tonight, right?” I asked him.
“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, kissing me. “You don’t have to worry about a thing with me. I’m all yours.”
And he was. Until he wasn’t.
I put a hand on Philip’s chest, suddenly exhausted and heartbroken. “This is stupid,” I say. “I know you. I know your type, and I thought I could do this, but I can’t.”
Pushing past him, I practically run out of the store. I hustle down the street to my car before he gets any heroic notions about coming after me. This sucks. All I wanted was a night of fun. One thing that wouldn’t remind me of Bryan and his betrayal and his words. Go figure the guy I chose would be just like him. Maybe I just have a type. Maybe I’m just destined to be the girl who falls for the terrible guy.
Either way, this is for the best. I can’t go through what I went through with Bryan again, so it’s better that I know about Philip now, before everything goes to shit. Instead of a one-night stand I’ll just go back to the coping mechanism I’ve been using for the past three weeks: ice cream and bad TV. Given how bad at sex I am, Philip probably dodged a bullet by not being able to sleep with me.
He should consider himself lucky.
5
Philip
What the fuck just happened?
I watch through the glass door of the shop as Mayra gets in her car and drives away, my hard-on painful against my jeans. I didn’t see that coming. One second she was practically begging me to fuck her, and the next she’s telling me she can’t. It’s like a switch flipped. Did I do something?
I go over everything I said, and I can’t find anything in my words that I think might be offensive. Maybe I pushed too hard. Maybe she wasn’t actually ready. I adjust myself in my jeans. Well, my cock isn’t going to get the workout it thought it was tonight. Good thing I had so much practice jerking off in class, because it looks like that’s all I’ll be doing. After checking in with the guy closing the store, I head to my car. I can already tell that Mayra is going to be on my mind for a while. It’s been a bit of time since I tried to pick someone up, but damn, I didn’t think I’d gotten that bad.
I head to a diner nearby. I know Christa goes here a lot, and I’m starving. Plus, I think that the patient could probably use some food. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive and I want to ask her if Mayra has ever been to a class before. Maybe get a clue as to why she ran, get a clue as to if she’ll come back. I order a burger for myself, and the biggest chicken noodle soup they have for Christa. I also get some of the toast I know she likes.
I thought it might be too awkward or too personal to tell everyone in class, but Christa is my best friend’s girl. Sean has been my best friend for years. He owns the gym with Morgan and me, and he and I served together. He’s off leading a two-week hiking trip in Colorado, a mixture of amateurs and rich people who are more interested in taking pictures than climbing actual rocks. He and I have an unspoken understanding—I’ll make sure Christa’s okay while he’s gone. If I had someone in my life, I know he’d do the same.
So even though I know she’ll probably be annoyed with me for fussing, I dial Christa’s number while I’m standing outside.
“Hello?” Her voice is stuffed.
“I’m outside with food. Do you want to let me in or should I use the key?”
She groans. “Use the key mother hen.”
I laugh as I find the hidden key behind a brick near the door. Christa is flopped on the couch, some terrible Lifetime movie playing. “I thought I’d call first so you didn’t think someone was breaking in.”
Sniffle. “I doubt I would have thought someone was breaking in if I heard the key in the lock.”
“I suppose that’s fair,” I say.
“How was the class?”
I put the soup down in front of her. “As good as can be expected given I know nothing about how to give a blowjob.”
“You have a penis. And you’ve had what I’m sure is an astonishing number of blowjobs in your life.” She laughs, and it sounds painful. “I’m sure it was fine.”
“I did want to ask you though, has a woman named Mayra ever come to one of your classes before?”
Christa’s face wrinkles, and she sneezes into a tissue before answering. “Doesn’t ring a bell, why?” I give her a sheepish grin and she rolls her eyes. “You were going to fuck one of my students, weren’t you?”
“Before you say anything, she’s not like that.”
“Not like the parade of women that regularly throw themselves at your feet? Philip, the whole class probably wanted you.”
I laugh. “You’re not wrong. But she didn’t, at least not at first. She barely looked at me, and she seemed so nervous she was going to throw up. I tried to talk to her after class—”
“And by talk to her you mean overwhelm her with your manliness.”
“I thought she was into it. But then she pushed me away. Said she knew my type, and ran out of the store.”
Christa pushes herself up into a sitting position, reaching for the container of soup. “So you want to know if I’ve seen her before so you can track her down? Even if I did know her, I wouldn’t help you do that.”
I unwrap my burger and bite into it. “Not track her down. But I would like to make sure she’s okay. She seemed really rattled all of a sudden. And maybe I can ask what got under her skin.”
“Mmm.” Christa takes a sip of the soup. “I was going to scold you for going out of your way to bring this over, but damn this is good.”
“Does Sean know you’re sick?”
She dunks a piece of toast in the soup and takes a bite. Doesn’t seem like it would be that good to me, but whatever. “He knows.”
“Really?” I narrow my eyes at her.
“Yes he knows I’m sick.”
“Probably a better question, does he know how sick?”
She gives me a look, “You know as well as I do that if he knew how sick he’d jump on plane and come back. I’m fine. He can finish the rest of the trip. Besides, if you keep bringing me soup I’m sure I’ll be better in no time.” I’m about to protest when she jumps in again.
“Do. Not. Tell. Him. Even sick I can take you down, Philip Crew.”
I grin at her, enjoying her bravado even though we know that’s a bald-faced lie.
We eat in silence for a few minutes before Christa looks at me. “It’s been awhile.”
“What?”
“It’s been awhile since you’ve actually been with someone.”
“Checking up on me?” I ask, trying to get her off this course.
She puts the lid back on the container of soup, only half finished. “It’s not exactly a secret. Are you okay?”
“Christa, just because I’m not in a relationship doesn’t mean I’m broken.”
“I’m not Sean,” she says. “You can’t fool me with this macho bullshit. I’m asking if you’re okay. Not because of the fact that you’re not seeing anyone, but because I know where you came from. I know it wasn’t easy to get as far as you have, and I know it’s just as easy to slip back there.”
I wrap up the rest of my burger, my appetite gone and my stomach suddenly roiling. Sean and Christa have been together a long time, and I knew that she knew, but I guess I hadn’t realized how much. When I came back from overseas, my mind was so blasted from the war that I was turned inside out. I couldn’t walk down the street without thinking someone was going to jump out, I couldn’t breathe without smelling smoke and fire, I couldn’t sleep without dreaming about screaming and blood. Sean, Morgan, and sometimes Christa were the ones who got me back on track. They brought me in as a partner in the gym, they gave me tasks, they helped me focus on the world around me as it actually was and not as it had been. Made me see someone until I could admit what was really wrong with me.
Slowly I got better, but it’s never really gone away. I got to a place where I would bury the pain. Bury it in my climbing, in my odd jobs, in the women I would fuck for a night and then leave. But those things don’t really mask it, what I’ve gone through. I pretend they do, and I pretend I’m fine. No one’s noticed that I’m not until now. The nightmares were gone for a long while, but they’ve started making an appearance again. It’s why I’m so tired, why I want intimacy instead of just a sex. I would go out, and find myself uninterested in the same kind of women I had been sleeping with for the last year and a half.
Then I walked into that class and I saw Mayra. For the first time in a really long time, my body saw something that it wanted. I’m not sure what that means, but it makes the fact that she pushed me away even more confusing, even more of a letdown. Christa is still looking at me expectantly.
“I’m not great,” I say. “But I’m okay.”
“How bad is it?”
I shrug. “I’m not jumping at shadows.”
“But…”
“What do you want me to say?” I clear my throat. “I’m in a downswing. It’ll get better. It’s bound to.”
She nods. “Okay. I’ll let you be. But you know we’re here for you, right?” A coughing fit bursts through her words, but I get the gist.
“Yeah.”
I pack up what’s left of my food to take home with me, standing and stretching. “You should rest,” I say. “You want to be better by the time Sean comes home and is furious with how sick you were.”
She groans. “All I’m doing is resting.”
“Finish the soup. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She grabs the remote for the TV, snuggling back down into her blankets. I’m halfway to the door when she calls after me. “Philip. If I see this girl. What was her name?”
“Mayra.”
“Right,” she says, blowing her nose. “I’ll put in a good word for you.”
I laugh a little. “Thanks for that. And for the other thing.”
“Anytime.”
I lock the door behind me, putting the spare key back behind the brick it came from. Mayra. The thought of her clears up the darkness lurking in my head. It’s like seeing a sliver of blue sky on a cloudy day. Just a glimpse of hope—a reminder that things aren’t necessarily as bleak as you think they are. I let her fill up my mind—her golden blonde hair, and the way her curves pressed against me. I didn’t have a chance to explore her body, but damn I want to have my hands full of her.
My dick agrees, roaring to life, harder than I’ve been in a long time. It’s a short drive to my house, and I’m grateful. I can’t stop thinking about what would have happened if she hadn’t stopped, if I had kissed her, and if I don’t get inside I’m going to be jerking off in my car for all my neighbors to see. As it is, I barely make it inside, dropping everything, I lean against my front door with my cock in my hand, thinking about what might have been.
I might have kissed her, caressing my tongue against her lips, feeling her open to me, her back arching and breasts pushing against my chest. Her nipples would be hard enough for me to feel through our clothes, and her breath would be shallow, panting for me. I might have run my hands underneath her shirt, reveling in the first touch of skin. I might have said Come with me, and she would have said yes, an answer so soft and breathy it would make my cock even harder.
I would have pulled her with me into the back room of the Pleasure Chest, finding a small amount of privacy among the shelves of sex toys—ignoring the fact that I wanted to use every single one on her. She would have pulled my face down to meet hers again as I undid the buttons on her jeans. I would slip my fingers down, running them through her folds, savoring her wetness before slipping them into the slick heat of her cunt.
My hand moves faster on my cock and I’m so close to coming that I can’t even stand. I lower myself to my knees, never letting go of that image of her. I imagine her sliding her pants off her hips, helping me get my belt open, fumbling with the anticipation. I would have fit myself against her, plunging inside in one long, smooth stroke. I can hear the moan she would make as I entered her, imagine the heat surrounding my cock on all sides, the feeling as she squeezes me with her pussy—
My balls tighten, and lightning thrums through my nerves as I come over my hand. I groan as the sweet release of orgasm rushes through me, releasing tension I didn’t even know I was carrying. My eyes are closed as I let the waves of pleasure pulse through me, spill out of me.
When it’s over my body is filled with tremors. Delicious little signs of weakness from something that was amazing. I can’t remember the last time I came like that. I selfishly hope that Christa sees her, that I somehow have an opportunity to see her again. I don’t want to upset her more than I already have, but I can’t imagine never seeing her again, never having the opportunity to live out that fantasy I just painted for myself.
I lean back against the door, spent. One things for sure, even if I never see her again, today’s one of the best days I’ve had in a long time.
But damn, I hope I see her again.
6
Mayra
I turn over in my bed for what feels like the millionth time. This bed is too hot, even with the air blasting and the covers thrown back. It’s because it’s L.A. in the middle of summer, and is not because every time I close my eyes I see Philip Crew. It’s most certainly not the dream I had where his head was settled firmly between my legs, tongue driving me mad with pleasure before he gave me exactly what I wanted. In that dream he fucked me breathless into more than one of the best orgasms of my life and I woke up wet and panting, cursing the universe that he’s a player and that it can’t be real. Even my fingers and imagination aren’t enough to get rid of the sexual energy clinging to me—I tried. Multiple times.
Now I’m tossing, trying to get a couple hours of sleep before the day. It’s Saturday, so I have nowhere to be. It’s fucking unfair that I can’t sleep in because of a dream. I roll over again, adjusting my pillow and closing my eyes. I will myself to go back to sleep. Dreamless, peaceful sleep. Instead, I feel the way his lips pulled at the skin of my wrist. I remember the press of his hard cock against my leg. I’m face to face with those dark blue eyes, melting with want, waiting for him to kiss me.
/> Damn it. Damn it all to hell.
My body clearly doesn’t understand the impossibility of this situation, warming at just the thought of touching Philip again. My pussy is wet again—hell, that’s been its natural state for the last twelve hours. I grab blindly for my phone, checking the time. It’s barely six a.m. I groan, pulling a pillow over my head. Am I really going to be defeated by my own body? No. It’s my day off. For once, everything in the land of public relations is quiet. There’s no terrible celebrity blunder to fix, no fire to put out. I’m free, and I’m going to sleep. That’s that.
As soon as my eyes close I’m confronted by the feeling of his hands on mine as he guides me in how to jerk someone off. You own his pleasure.
I sit up and fling the pillow across the room in frustration. That doesn’t help. That is the complete opposite of helping. I get out of bed, resigning myself to the fact that my body is not going to let me sleep right now. I pull on the closest workout gear I can find, because the only thing that is going to help me right now is to force my body into submission, and that means getting out every ounce of energy that I possibly can.
I grab my gym bag and purse and head out the door. My gym isn’t far, and I decide to walk. One more thing to expend energy. Even though it’s L.A., and everyone is more than a little gym crazy, it’s still Saturday. Only the most dedicated people—or the insomniacs like me—are at the gym this early on a Saturday, so it’s pretty empty. I have no problem getting a good treadmill. I set the channel on the TV to the food channel, only to change it to the news because they’re making some kind of dessert with chocolate drizzle and all I can think about is Philip licking it off me.
I don’t understand what’s happening. It hasn’t even been a month since I’ve had actual sex, I shouldn’t be in this kind of frenzy. It doesn’t matter why it’s happening. I can beat it. I turn up the speed on the treadmill and focus on the story of the wildfires in the hills surrounding L.A.
