“Did I mention, I’m wearing those purple sheer panties and tank top?”
“No you didn’t,” I remark, already kicking off my shoes. “Give me a sec,” I say, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it to the floor. “All right.” My voice soft while positioning myself on the bed.
“Dex, you have to talk louder. You know what gets me going.” I hear the muffling of her own bed. Squeaks I know all too well.
“I’m pretty sure I can get you there whether I’m whispering or not.”
“But I have the house to myself. I can be as loud as I want, and I know you like that,” she coyly says, making me shift my lower half. “Come on, Dex, make me come,” she begs in the most innocent school girl voice. My hand rushes to unbutton my jeans. Lowering my zipper, I stuff my hand in my pants, freeing junior for some playtime.
“You know I love to hear you scream my name,” I tell her, keeping my voice low.
“I’m not going to scream unless you at least talk in a normal voice, Dex,” she says, with frustration evident in her tone.
Debating in my head, I contemplate if I should end the call or not. It seems—awkward with Chrissy right through the bathroom doors. But having her around and not being able to touch her has been frustrating, in more ways than one. Figuring she’s probably barely coherent with the amount of alcohol she consumed, I place my hand around myself and begin sliding it up and down.
Clearing my throat, I begin talking normally. “All right, girl, let’s get this going. Stick that hand down those panties. Do not, and I say again, do not take them off. I want to imagine your hand buried in the between the wet fabric and your soaking pussy. It is soaking, right?” I ask her, getting only a moan back.
“Yeah, my fingers are sliding,” she informs me, and my palm starts stroking faster.
“Like a damn Slip ‘n Slide. Come on, Sam, stick those fingers inside. How warm are you?” I egg her on, and her heavy breathing muffles across the line.
“I wish it was you that was feeling how warm I am.” She says the same things every time. Her wanting me there, but that lasts until my dick is out of her, then she’s onto something else.
“Your fingers are me,” I command. “In and out, baby … in and out. Push up that tank top and show me your tits.” Her breathing hitches, and I hear the muffled movement of her body shifting. “Pinch those nipples and squeeze,” I instruct.
“Dex,” she moans loudly over the phone, making my dick harder. My own arm quickens its movement as I close my eyes, imagining her naked body.
“Do I feel good?” I ask her.
“Always,” she stutters, and I swear I can envision her back arching up, pressing her tits into her hand.
“Move your thumb and rub that swollen clit,” I say, and her erratic breathing flows over the phone. “Faster.” I use a more demanding tone that I’ve already discovered gets her off.
“I am. God it feels so good.”
“I feel so good,” I remind her.
“Yes, you, Dex, always feel so god damn good.” Her words have me gripping harder at myself. “Fuck,” she moans. Crap, I may not last.
“Come on … scream my name … make us come.” I keep her going through groans, grumbles, and moans on both sides of the receiver.
“DEX!” she screams, and her voice begins to lower as one whimper squeaks out. “Fuck, you’re good.” My fist beats faster. She knows I hold out until she’s done. “Keep going. I’m so damn wet, you’d slide right in me,” she adds. “Come on, Dex, get in me. Feel how warm I am, touch my tits and feel how soft.” I can barely think of anything other than her naked body below me as I thrust into her. Pretty soon, I can’t hold it any longer.
“Shit, Sam,” I say loudly, releasing all of that build up.
“That a boy.” She laughs, and I chuckle back into the receiver. “God, I need to make a trip out there,” she remarks, and my whole body stiffens with the thought of Chrissy in the next room, leaving me with guilt of what I just did.
“You coming when Jessa has the baby?” I ask, calculating the math in my head of how many weeks I may have to get this Chrissy thing handled.
“You know it, and I only have two places I want to go. The hospital and your bed.” Her footsteps echo over the line, and I realize she’s already done like usual. She’s more of a get her pleasure and leave than I am. Before she says the words, I sit up to get myself together. “Well, big boy, I gotta go.”
“Talk to you soon, Sam,” I say back, grabbing my towel.
“Bye, Dex. It’s been fun as always,” she finishes, in a much more hyper mood now. I’m glad I can make her happy, but it’s odd being the one wanting a little more than a quickie phone sex call. Not to say that didn’t always fulfill my needs—it did, but now that Chrissy’s come back, somehow it all feels empty and senseless.
The phone goes dead, and I place it on my nightstand. My time with Sam was a good distraction from the problem in the next room, but now that’s it over, it occupies me again. Shrugging off my jeans, I step out of them and into the bathroom. Turning on the water, I step in and allow the hot water to cascade down my body.
Once I’m done, I wrap the towel around my waist and brush my teeth. Tossing a pair of basketball shorts on, I go downstairs and fold her laundry. Opening the door to Trey’s old room, Chrissy is curled up in the fetal position under the sheets. Hearing her light breathing assures me she’s okay, so I quietly place the stack of clothes on the chair and shut the door.
Climbing into my own bed, I hear laughter from Sadie and Brady’s return home. I listen to their happiness and carrying on as they take each step to their bedroom. Then Sadie’s laugh somehow knocks me right in the heart. A sense of loneliness washes over me. Shaking my head from the absurd thought, I grab my ear buds and listen to music until I eventually fall asleep.
STRETCHING MY BODY, I scan around the foreign room that only consists of a bed, dresser, and nightstand. I’m surprised it has sheets and pillows because the rest of the room is bare as a jail cell. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and look at my horribly dirty feet. Then I spot my broken sandals by the door, I guess they’ll be tossed in the trash. Standing up, I open the door, revealing the empty hallway. Walking by a stack of my clothes neatly folded on the chair in the corner, I stop. I pick up a shirt and bring it up to my nose, smelling the fabric softener. “Dex,” I sigh, because the familiar scent of him is similar to a blanket warming me in the dead of winter. I could recognize that smell anywhere since the age of eight. I’m elated that he must have grabbed my clothes from my car and washed them for me last night.
Venturing to the other door, I peek in through a sliver of an opening and spot the bathroom, jackpot! I do my business and then scour the drawers for toothpaste or anything to brush my teeth. Remembering my suitcase was in the room, I go back into the vacant room and grab my toiletries bag. After I floss and brush my teeth, I down two aspirin for the splitting headache and decide to take a shower. Before the scum of those pieces of shit last night and that crappy establishment are permanently embed in my skin.
I lean my forearms against the tiled wall, so the water beats down my back. Flashes of last night go off in my head like booming fireworks from a dark sky. What the hell am I thinking by gambling with the little amount of money I had? Regardless of the consequences I left behind in Akron, I can’t do that. It’s everything I hate, everything I despise. Fast money isn’t the way to get what I need. A ‘blessing’ isn’t going to help me.
As my plan slowly comes into shape, I turn off the water and begin drying the beads of water off my body. When the door flies open, I back up against the shower wall, throwing my arms over my personal parts.
“Shit. Sorry, Chrissy,” Dex apologizes, retreating back the way he came. Right before he shuts the door, he pops his head in one more time. “Good morning.” Dex winks and then shuts the door.
“Dex!” I screech, and I hear his chuckle as the door clicks shut.
I step out so fa
st, my feet almost slip on the tile floor. Holding myself steady, I wrap the towel around my body and depart to my one night room. I scurry directly to the other door to make sure it’s locked, and then I notice the bathroom door has a hook on it, so I flip that over. Finally, feeling secure in the space, I drop the towel and dry myself off the rest of the way.
“Crap,” I mumble, remembering my toiletries are back in the bathroom. The room I now hear water running in, meaning Dex is in there, naked with a soapy body. The image alone ignites a tingling sensation from my head to my toes and then back again. God help me.
FORGOING THE LOTION, I put on the most designer outfit I own. A skirt and a cotton peasant shirt. If memory serves me right, the girls Dex hangs out with are pretty trendy with their clothes that I’m positive cost a lot of money. Lucky for me, whoever occupied this room previous, left a mirror. I judge myself in front of it, positioning my clothes and finger combing my wet hair.
A small knock on the door distracts me from critiquing every minor detail of my face, hair, and body. I reach over, unhook the latch, and open the door to the bathroom. Dex stands in the doorway in shorts and a navy t-shirt that has small wet circles indicating he didn’t dry himself completely off. Was he as anxious to see me as I was him? A clump of his longer, wavy, golden-blond hair lays just above his eyebrow.
“Sorry about earlier,” he says, stepping into the room. I watch him make his way to the bed, and it sinks at the edge from the weight of his body. “Let’s talk.” He pats the spot next to him. A rush of regret that I’m here, causing more trouble in his life loathes inside of me. What did I think was going to happen?
“There really isn’t much to say,” I tell him, keeping my distance across the room.
“Why were you there? You hate that scene,” he continues, and my eyes roll up and around his head, not making any contact.
“I made a mistake. Thought I could make a quick buck,” I lie.
“Chris—you hate everything and everybody that gambles. Something more must be going on.” He leans forward, placing his elbows on his thighs and looks at me from the corner of his eye.
“Can we please let it go? How much do I owe you?” He must have paid Len; otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d still be there, passed out on some stool like the other fools.
“It’s nothing. I took care of it, and I don’t want you to pay me back.” His blue eyes are filled with so much concern, I wonder if things could have been different for us. Could we have made a go of it? Then another memory of last night flickers to life. Him loudly making noises.
“Was your girlfriend over last night?” I ask him, great defensive mechanism to veer away from the current conversation.
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he says, standing up.
“I swear I heard you—”
He places his palm on the back of his neck. “Let’s just go get breakfast.” He interrupts me and holds the door to the bedroom open for me to pass through first.
“Dex, it’s okay, is she still here?” I press the subject even with the knots forming in my stomach, and he deeply sighs.
“I told you, I don’t have a girlfriend.” The finality in his voice tells me there is or at least was someone. I think I may have gotten off by the sounds of his pleasure coming from his room last night. Drunk check. Horny check. Yep, I’m pretty sure I did.
“Are your roommates home?” I ask, stepping into the hallway, like I’m checking the temperature of the pool before getting in.
“Yeah. You’ve met them all back at Trey’s. Well, not Rob.” He places his hand on the small of my back, nudging me forward. My feet stumble slightly because I don’t really want to see his roommates. The thought of leaving the safe confines of a room I have no attachment to frightens me. His friends will judge and make assumptions, probably truthful assumptions, about me. “Come on,” he urges, grabbing my hand in his.
We walk down the stairs, and as soon as my bare feet hit the hardwood floors, I can hear laughter mixed with pans and plates clanking on the stovetop and counter. My heart races, and I bite the inside of my cheek with the anticipation of all their eyes on me when they find us in the doorway. Quickly, I take my hand out of Dex’s, and he sharply turns in my direction with question.
Ignoring him, I focus on my first obstacle. Get through breakfast, get my shit, and then get out. Plan noted. Dex saunters into the room without a care or worry, while I take a few steps and stop. He grabs the orange juice from the fridge and two glasses from the cabinet before anyone even notices I’m there.
Sadie is the first. Dislodging her arms from Brady’s waist, who is at the stovetop flipping bacon, she begins to turn. “The grease is splattering,” she whines, shaking her one hand. Once her eyes meet mine, she stops mid shake. I avert my eyes to Dex and then the wall. “Hi, Chrissy.” My name slowly leaves her lips, making Brady’s head rotate toward me.
“Hi, Sadie … Brady.” I give a shy wave.
“Hi.” Brady greets me and then a huge pop from the bacon grease diverts his attention back to the stove.
“Glad you all remember each other. Want some orange juice?” Dex interrupts the awkwardness of the situation.
“Sure,” I accept and make my way to the vacant chair next to him.
“Are you guys hungry? We’ll have plenty,” Sadie asks, placing paper plates and forks on the table before retreating back Brady’s way. I couldn’t be happier that my back is to them. I would never want to see the shared snide looks to my re-appearance.
“That’s okay—” I begin, but Dex overrules me.
“Sure,” he says standing up. Please don’t go. Coming back a second later, he hands me a piece of bacon. “Here. It does a hangover good,” he jokes, and I roll my eyes, snatching it from his hand.
“Oh, did you have too much to drink last night?” My head rises up, finding Sadie sitting next to me.
“Yeah,” I mention. “I popped some aspirin this morning though, so I’m feeling better.”
“That’s good. Well, Brady’s breakfast will help.” She smiles, easing my anxiety a little.
“It’s a miracle worker,” Brady adds, bringing over plates overfilled with food.
“Do you always make this much?” I ask him while Dex grabs the plates, spooning piles of each food onto everyone’s plates. “Thank you,” I say, but Dex doesn’t respond. Instead, he picks up his fork and starts eating.
“It’s either that, or I just end up making more if the guys are home,” Brady says, just as the back door swings open.
The guy’s footsteps halt at the door and he peruses the scene in front of him. Mostly likely noticing someone isn’t like the others. He eyeballs me, and I keep my focus on him. He’s tall, lean and muscled with dark spiky hair. Tattoos cover the majority of his arms, leading up past the sleeves of his shirt. A creepy smirk crosses his lips once my eyes reach the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. I always thought Dex’s were like glass, but this guy’s resemble the waves in an ocean. Where the tip of it is almost see-through, except for the smallest hue of blue.
“Who’s this?” He nods his head in my direction and then officially enters the room. Flipping a chair around and swinging his legs over, sitting down, eyes on me while he shovels food onto his plate.
“This is my friend, Chrissy.” Dex introduces me, and I wipe my hand on my napkin before holding it out to him. He shakes his head and picks up his fork.
“Is that what we call it these days?” He cocks an eyebrow to Dex, who shakes his head.
“It is possible to actually have friends of the opposite sex.” Sadie comes to our defense, although I don’t really care what he thinks.
“No, it’s not,” he blatantly says, shaking his head while chewing his eggs.
“Yes, it is,” Sadie continues, and Brady shakes his head at their banter.
“If that was the case, I’d be friends with Jessa.” He cocks that eyebrow again.
“That is completely different circumstances, Rob.” Oh, so this is Rob. I had
assumed, but it was now confirmed.
Then his eyes dart to Dex and I. “Have you guys ever hooked up?” he asks, and I itch my neck, trying to divert the topic.
“No,” Dex answers.
“Have you ever wanted to? You know one of those almost kiss moments the movies like to do so much.” He actually places his fork down and focus completely on us.
“You going soft and watching romantic comedies now?” Brady asks, chuckling along with Sadie.
“No, you watch enough of those for all of us. Pussy-whipped,” he coughs, and then his attention comes back to us. “So?”
I concentrate on my meal, not wanting to be the one to answer. I’m not sure if I’ll be offended if Dex denies it, but, then again, if he admits it, it proves the asshole right.
“No,” Dex answers again and then buries his head into his food.
“Bullshit,” Rob says, and Dex’s head flies up. Their eyes peer into one another’s, until Rob gives a slow nod of his head and lets the whole subject go.
“How long are you staying?” he asks me, and this is a question I can answer.
“I’m leaving right after breakfast.”
Dex’s eyes look at me from the corner and then back to his plate.
“Why don’t you stay for a little while? It’s Sunday. Do you have to go to work?” Sadie asks me, and I can see Dex’s eyes land on me, anticipating my answer.
“Um … no, but I should go home.” I fight every urge telling me to stay. Dex has his life and I’m not a part of it.
“Brady and Sadie always take in the misfits,” Rob chimes in, and I narrow my eyes his way.
“Come on. We were going to have a cook-out tonight. The weather is starting to change, and we want to use the grill before it turns cold outside. It will be fun,” Sadie begs me, and, for some reason, I agree. It’s only one night.
“Okay, but I insist on making something,” I say, thinking about how on earth I’ll afford the ingredients. The two hundred dollars I have tucked away won’t last long.
“Sure. What’s your favorite dish to prepare?” she asks, and I bite my lip thinking. Having a dad not around, I learned to fend for myself but it’s not like I make gourmet dishes.
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