Peaks of Passion: Pleasure Point Series Book One

by Jennifer Evans

  “Of course not.” He cradled his face in his hands, then after what seemed like hours, he peeked out at me. “So what’s it like?”

  “What’s what like?”

  “You know … sex.”

  I broke into a grin. “Pretty unfuckingbelievable.”

  “This is unreal.”

  “C’mon, bro, you’ll see what it’s like when you meet somebody you feel this way about.”

  He exhaled. “You better be careful.”

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.” I sat next to my brother, putting my arm around him. “It’s going to be okay. I’m happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be. Now I get what the big deal is all about. Pinkie swear we don’t tell?”

  He gave a reluctant grin and held out his pinkie. “Pinkie swear.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding, pinkie swore, and then gave my big brother a hug.

  Rosalyn

  Palm Springs is a desert city in California known for its hot springs, retirees and golf courses, but for Carissa and me, it was a place we’d agreed to meet for a girl’s weekend to work on creative projects and partake of a little sacred herb.

  Jax and I had been doing our thing for almost four months the day I pulled Ol’ Betsy up to The Paradise Inn. The place looked like a refurbished Bates Motel, with its rooms neatly lined up to one side, the swimming pool with an assortment of lawn chairs with plastic webbing underneath the shade of massive palm trees.

  After I checked in with the front desk, I waited for Carissa to arrive while sitting in the over air-conditioned lobby and thumbing through a back issue of Desert Life magazine. I learned that should I decide to grow an herb garden in the desert, I’d need to water it twice a day.

  “Rosalyn!” Carissa shrieked when she sashayed into the lobby, loaded with a square train case in one hand and a suitcase in the other. The train case had two bumper stickers affixed to it. One said, “I Brake For No One” and the other advised me to “Give Peace A Chance.” Her flaming red hair cascaded behind her. She dropped the bags at her feet and ran to me. “Give me a hug.” She embraced me tightly as I inhaled the scent of Patchouli mixed with sacred herb. “Let me look at you,” she said. “Being back here agrees with you. Damn girl, you’re glowing.”

  I laughed. “Guess I’m settling in okay.”

  We collected her bags, she connected her arm through mine, and we made our way to room number seven. “Did you bring your paints?” I asked.

  “Of course I did. We’ll work on a desert landscape. Hot damn, driving through the desert, I got all kinds of inspiration. The colors here are un-flippin-believable.”

  We got settled into our room. Carissa pulled off the cheap bedspread and replaced it with a feather comforter she’d brought from home. “This thing’s gross. God knows the last time they changed it,” she said. “I don’t even want to know who came on this thing.”

  I laughed. “Stop. That’s disgusting.”

  “Well, you know I’m right. Oh my God, Roz, wait until I tell you about this groovy musician I met down at the local watering hole last week.” Her eyes glazed over. “Wouldn’t mind spending a few nights in a hotel room with him.” Carissa was exactly the way I remembered, full of energy, ready for a party or creative project, and eager to discuss her sex life. “What about you? Met anybody in Point Loma yet?”

  I became extra busy with emptying the contents of my suitcase into the particle-board dresser. “Nope.”

  “Well, why not?” She stopped unpacking and stared at me. “There’s all kinds of hip surfers down at the beach.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Or maybe there’s somebody at work?”

  “Why’re you so intent on me getting laid?” I didn’t feel comfortable lying to Carissa, but didn’t think she’d understand.

  “Because that’s what we do.” She picked up a pair of jeans and swatted me with them. “Or at least we wish we were.” She smoothed out the feather comforter then jumped on the bed. She patted the bed and said, “Come, sit. Let’s get caught up. Grab my bag, will you?” I handed Carissa her purse and she extracted a small bag of pot, filled her metal pipe and lit up. She took a long toke then handed me the pipe. I took a quick puff and handed it back. Throwing her head back against the wall, she said, “It’s lonely without you in Santa Fe. But I’m super happy you decided to go back to school.” She took another toke. “There’s so much more here in California. Jobs, school.” She sat up and tucked her legs underneath her. “Hey, how’re surf lessons going? Lydia’s son still giving you lessons? His name’s Jax, right?”

  I took the pipe out of her hand, taking an extra long toke. “Yep.”

  She clapped her hands together. “Oh, I love that name. If I ever have a boy, I’m going to name him Jax.”

  I swatted her. “You’re not having a kid.”

  Carissa’s eyes went wide. “Why not? Don’t you want kids one day?”

  I held the pipe in front of me, studying the swirly design of the shaft. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Carissa removed the pipe from my hand. “Roz, we’ve got to start thinking about this stuff. When are we going to settle down?”

  I crossed my arms. “I don’t want to settle down.”

  She eyed me. “Why not?”

  “Because.” I picked at the hem of my skirt. “I’m not ready.”

  “But one day you’ll want that, right? I mean, I know you and I have been free and easy for a lot of years, but I gotta tell you, since you moved and went back to school, it’s got me thinking about my future. We can’t keep on acting like teenagers forever.”

  I grabbed the pipe away from Carissa, took a satisfying toke and handed it back. “You know I haven’t done well in the relationship department.”

  Carissa patted my thigh. “I know. But there’s got to be good men out there. Just because you’ve dated your share of losers, doesn’t mean—”

  I folded my arms. “Do you have to remind me of those bums?”

  She took a drag and held the pipe, gazing at the swirling smoke. “Remember that guy who followed you around and looked through your windows? And the one who left so many messages on your machine he ran the tape out?”

  I snatched the pipe away. “Stop. It’s not funny.”

  She giggled. “You know what was funny? The dude who called on your birthday and left a long message saying how much he loved you, then sang happy birthday in that high pitched voice like he was training for the opera.” In a screechy voice, Carissa affected her best impression of my beloved’s botched rendition of the song.

  I slapped my thigh. “We just about peed our pants listening to that message. Then he told me he got high on mushrooms every single day. That was after I’d already been dating him for a few weeks.”

  “I suppose you could’ve had a life with him where he collected the mushrooms and you made the tea.”

  I fanned myself with a magazine. “Yes, darling, I’m ready to trip again. For the hundredth time this year.”

  Carissa and I looked at each other and burst into laughter. When the laughter died down she said, “So you’ll find somebody better next time. Somebody you don’t have to take to court for a restraining order like you did with Devin.”

  I sat up straight on the bed and pointed an index finger at Carissa. “That is exactly what I’m talking about. I’m terrible at picking men. Can’t we just have a fun weekend and not talk about serious stuff?”

  She smiled. “You’re right. Live in the moment?”

  “Right.”

  Jax was different than all those other guys. I missed him already. We’d been seeing each other about three times a week, making sure that when he came over his mom and dad would be safely at work. He’d show up at my place, his skateboard skidding to a stop at my front door, and when I heard the sound of him popping the skateboard up into his hands, my heart beat so wildly it made me dizzy. Then, we’d lock the door behind us, and I’d rip off his T-shirt and unzip his jeans. Sometimes I’d get on my knees right
there in the living room and suck him off until he came in my mouth, his eyes closed, his head thrown back, his moans so deep and sexy that I almost came myself, just from feeling his legs tighten as he jerked and spasmed in my mouth.

  Then, we’d kiss, and he’d look me in the eye and say, “C’mon baby, let me take care of you now.” He’d lead me by the hand into my bedroom, and just the way I taught him, he’d undress me, lay me on the bed, spread my legs and gently work his tongue and hands all over my body, teasing, tugging at my pubic hair, making slow circles with his warm hands until he zeroed in on my sweet spot. Then he’d work his magic until I screamed.

  I knew what I was doing was wrong, but I also knew that Jax wouldn’t tell anyone. He was mature for his age. I trusted him. Then there was the crazy hot turn on of having a sexy young man who was eager to try anything I wanted. I’d had my share of partners, and was weary of the male ego that always needed stroking. Then there were those guys who could barely get it up unless they were watching porn. That got old fast. Jax was always ready.

  I’d known Jax for around ten months by then, and maybe it was unrealistic, but I thought I was in love with him. Jax took care of me. When I was with him, I felt safe. I know he was just a teenager, and that thought made me feel queasy. But he was my best friend. He was the first man I’d met who honestly cared about my welfare, he was easy to be with, never judged me, and our sexual connection was red hot.

  Carissa and I spent the weekend taking early morning hikes in the hills of Palm Springs. We set up our easels poolside, making sure to put down a drop cloth so the grouchy manager wouldn’t yell at us for dripping paint onto the cement. We drank iced-tea and took refreshing dips in the sparkling swimming pool. In between our painting sessions, we’d steal away to our room to smoke some sacred herb. By Sunday afternoon, I felt pretty mellow. I had intended to keep my secret. I wasn’t going to tell anyone about Jax, but I needed to confide in someone.

  The sky was a particularly gorgeous shade of purple. As the shadows grew longer, the desert birds made their way to their nests while we relaxed on the chaise lounges by the pool.

  “Carissa, do you think you’ve ever been in love?”

  “Lots of times,” she said.

  “What I mean is, do you believe in soul mates?”

  “I believe there are many soul mates out there.”

  “But do you think that maybe there’s one person that we’re meant to be with?”

  “Not really. If that were true, then what would happen to widows?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why’re you thinking this stuff? Did you meet somebody?”

  I longed to smoke another joint to quell the uneasiness that oozed into my system. “It’s just that … I’m kind of seeing someone right now.”

  Carissa sat up and clapped her hands together. “You are? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I looked away. “It’s not that great of a situation.”

  “Why not? Is the guy married?” she said.

  “No.”

  “Is he long distance?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to make me sit here and guess all night?”

  My jaw clenched. “You promise you won’t judge me?”

  “Of course not. We’re friends, right?”

  “Remember when I told you about how Lydia’s son was giving me surfing lessons?”

  “Is it somebody you met surfing?”

  I studied my manicure. “Kind of.”

  “For Chrissakes, tell me already.”

  “Please don’t be mad at me but I … it’s Jax.” I looked down at my lap. “We kind of were hanging out a bunch and then one day it all kind of happened and …” I glanced at Carissa. Her mouth hung slightly open.

  She said, “Oh honey, what are you doing? How old did you say he was?”

  My voice came out as a whisper. “Eighteen.”

  “I’m sure he’s super cute, but Roz, you’re planning on cutting this off, right? He’s so young.”

  I sat up and faced my friend. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. He’s sweet and caring and funny, and he helps me with all the stuff I can’t handle in life. He’s really good with a tool box, and he …” I collapsed back on the lawn chair.

  “And the sex is great, right?”

  I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

  Carissa was quiet for a while. “Sweetie, I know you think this was a fun thing to do. God knows I’ve certainly had my share of bad boys and guys that were wrong for me, but you’ve got to cut this off now.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Why not?”

  My voice was shaky. “Because, I think I’m in love with him.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “In love? What is the matter with you? You can’t mess with his head.” She smirked. “And what would he know about love? He’s still in high school, right? Is he going to ask you to the prom?”

  I sat up so fast that Carissa flinched. “Don’t make fun of him! He’s a good person. The nicest man I’ve ever met.”

  She touched my arm. “Honey, he’s not a man yet.”

  I stood up, my back to Carissa, and stared at the verdant hills where the palm trees gently swayed in the breeze. “I know he’s not. You’re right. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” I turned and sat on the edge of her lounge chair, looking her in the eye. “But what if we keep it all real quiet until—”

  “Until what? Until you get caught?”

  “Nobody has to know.”

  “Has anyone suspected yet?”

  I looked down. “His brother knows.”

  Her breath was a sharp intake. “Oh no. Is he going to tell?”

  “He’s totally cool.”

  “You hope.”

  “I know I’m playing with fire. But it’s just fun stuff right now. We won’t get caught. Besides, ten years from now nobody’s going to care.”

  “Ten years? Are you really thinking that far ahead? What’re you doing for protection? You ready to have a kid?”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  Carissa took my hand. “Sweetie, I know you and I have done some dumb things in life, but this is dangerous. What if his folks find out?”

  “We only have sex at my house, when we know nobody’s around.”

  “You’ve gotten lucky. You can’t hide this forever.”

  I pulled my hand away from hers. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’d better think hard. You’re going to break a lot of hearts. Look at you, you’re young, beautiful, talented, and you’ll find a man, somebody your own age.”

  “I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, right?”

  “Right. Rosalyn, look at me.” I faced her. Her eyebrows were drawn together. “I’m your friend. Just chalk this up as another life experience, and move on.”

  I dropped my chin to my chest and nodded my head, a small tear falling on my lap. “I know, you’re right.” But I didn’t want to believe her.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Carissa and I stood next to our cars, ready to drive home. She hugged me tight then said, “You’re going to be fine. You’re doing the right thing cutting things off with Jax. You are planning on cutting things off, right?”

  I looked down and nodded, then met her gaze.

  She stared at me extra hard. “Call me if you need to talk.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I put Ol’ Betsy in gear, heading west to Point Loma. I wasn’t even a block away when I let out a huge exhale. I hadn’t promised Carissa anything. We’d be careful. We wouldn’t get caught.

  Rummaging through my bag, I extracted a joint, and smoked it as Carissa and her judgmental attitude faded into the distance. I honestly thought I was smarter than everyone else. I thought I had the situation under control, thought we’d be fine. We’d be cautious. And I really did think I was in love with Jax. I turned up the music, Robert Plant screaming about good times and bad times. I sang along, loud and off key, pressed my foot down on the accelerator, dust pluming u
p behind Ol’ Betsy as I drove back to Jax.

  Jax

  Things were freaking fantastic between Rosalyn and me. I could hardly believe how lucky I was. She’d been gone all weekend, and it made me realize even more how I’d become used to being around her. Even if we didn’t see each other, I liked knowing she was only a few blocks away.

  On the Monday I expected Rosalyn back, my dad asked me to help him fix his board. He’d been surfing over the weekend on a big swell, lost control of his surfboard, and it got nicked pretty good on the rocks.

  “Am I going to have to teach you how to surf all over again?” I smiled.

  He winked. “Yep. Guess so.” My dad was almost a better surfer than me. Almost.

  “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as your favorite son.”

  I bounced into the garage with Dad. He had all his cool junk set up: a sawhorse for laying surfboards out, a work table with a shitload of tools and surfboards piled against every available inch of wall—some suspended overhead by specially made slings. I inhaled the scent of primer and smiled.

  Dad laid his longboard on the sawhorse and ran his fingers across the nose where there was a ding about the size of a silver dollar, the fiberglass showing through. “Not too bad. But this calls for a brewskie.” He sauntered over to the small fridge he kept in the garage and pulled out a cold beer, popping the top and taking a swig. “Get the sandpaper, will you?”

  “Yes, master,” I said with a salute, clicking my heels together. I got the sandpaper, turned off the fan he’d used to dry the board, and then began sanding. Dad turned on the radio, and the harmonizing voices of the Beach Boys singing “Good Vibrations” came to life. I sang along, humming and dancing a little jig as I sanded.

  Dad folded his arms and leaned against the worktable, his blue eyes twinkling. “What’re you so happy about?”

  Happiness filled my body because Rosalyn and I were in love. Well, she hadn’t actually said those words, and neither had I, but that didn’t matter. What we had was real, and it blew my mind every time I thought of her naked body. “Just … nothing.” I sanded furiously, ran my fingers along the ding until I thought it was perfect, then held the wadded up sandpaper over my head and executed a perfect throw right into the wastebasket that stood on the other side of the garage. “Three points!” I yelled and high-fived my dad.