by Ashley Lyn
“You would assume correctly.”
“What can I help you with?”
“You can start by staying away from my brother. Your background checks out; however, I found some unfortunate information about your adoptive and biological mother—”
I hang up again.
When she calls back, I let it go to voicemail a few times before I answer.
“Do you believe that children should be punished for the sins of their mothers?”
“Well no, but I—”
“You had no right to look into my past, and FYI, I’ve already told your brother everything there is to know about me and my life. Hell, he’s already met my moms, but not the biological one, and neither have I for that matter. He didn’t have to go behind my back because I offered that shit up—I have nothing to hide. I’m gonna give you a pass, because he warned me that his sisters tend to go too far, being bitches and all. I really really like your brother, and I refuse to let you girls meddle in our lives. Now, was there any other reason you called, besides trying to sabotage yet another relationship of his?”
She’s silent for a moment. “Well, this did not go how I expected it to.”
“I’m sure. I’m not a doormat, and I refuse to be treated as such.”
“Wonderful. I can’t wait to see you in a month.”
She ends the call this time. What a great first impression.
I call Luke. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Your sister Savannah just called to inform me of what she knows about me.”
“Son of a bitch! I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
“No worries. You might say I gave her a verbal smackdown. She said she looks forward to meeting me in a month, so I think we’re good. Thought I’d give you a heads up in case she calls you.”
“You’re amazing, seriously. Even I have a hard time putting her in her place.”
“Well, this amazing girl is heading down to the beach, hoping she doesn’t have to see Bruce’s low hangers this time.”
“All right, baby. As soon as I’m done working, I’ll meet you there.”
***
I’m laid out on my towel, soaking in the vitamin D when I hear the unmistakable sound of clothing moving around.
Looking over my shoulder, I see my friend, Amy Rain. She’s my age and a recluse, to say the least. She lives…well, I’m not sure where she lives exactly. She started coming around when she was sixteen. It took a couple times inviting her to play with us when Roger and I were kids, but we finally managed to get her to stick around for longer than a second. After her mom passed, she stuck around longer and longer, getting into trouble with Roger and I. But after her father died, she stopped coming around, choosing to withdraw into herself and stay somewhere in the woods.
She sits down directly behind me, and I know better than to turn around. So I act like I don’t know she’s there, and I get back to reading.
“You have a new neighbor.”
“Yes, his name is Luke, and I licked him first so he’s mine.”
In an even quieter tone, I hear, “Do you mind if I use your shower?”
“Amy, I don’t know where you’re staying, but if you need someplace to crash, I have an extra bedroom.”
“I’m fine. I just…I just need to use your shower.”
“Yeah, of course. The house is unlocked. And Amy, if you ever need anything, just know you can always come to me, whatever it is. Okay?”
“Okay, and thank you.”
As she heads towards my house, I pull out my phone to send out a group text. I don’t want anyone barging into my house while she’s there.
Steven: Who’s Amy, and why is she using your shower?
Roger: Got it.
Luke: I second Steven’s question.
Me: She asked if she could use the shower. I have never gotten a clear answer from her as to where exactly she lives, but I remember her dad was way off his rocker. She used to come to town and hang out a lot, but after her dad passed away a couple years ago, I see her less and less.
Margo: That poor girl. Let me know if there’s anything we can do to help.
Luke: I’m coming over in half an hour. Be ready. I’m going to divide those thighs. I’m ready to conquer and plunder your lady garden.
Me: LUKE! THIS IS A GROUP MESSAGE!
Margo: I love you daughter, but I do not need to see the sexting.
Roger: Get ya some, Ali girl.
Luke: SHIIIITTTT!
Me: LMFAO.
***
Amy
I’m having a bad day.
It’s not often that I curse, but when that F-bomb flew out of my mouth, I swear I ducked, thinking my mother was going to come back from the dead and wallop my backside.
I was born in these woods, in a tent, my parents living “off-grid.” I loved it as a child, but didn’t in my teens. I loathed it when I lost my mother, and my dad mentally checked out. I hate it now that my dad’s passed.
I’m stuck, and I have no clue what to do now. I’ve been moving my camp, just like my dad taught me, living off the land. The problem is, I’m alone.
When I got up this morning and started making the trek to a nearby lake, things just fell apart, like my boots. The duct tape I had holding them together finally gave out. No big deal, since I’ve got more duct tape back at camp.
In my muttering rant, I’m not paying attention to where I’m going and come upon a hill. It surprised me as I rolled and tumbled the whole way down, cussing up a storm—in my head, of course. Because let's face it, my clumsy ass is always falling either down or up. How I manage to fall up, though, is beyond me.
Bears. I hate those stinking animals. They scare me, they stink, and they get into everything, like my lake, the one they were playing in when I arrived. I’m covered head to toe in dirt. Possibly even dead animals, and poop.
My walk back to camp is long, and I can’t stop the tears from falling.
This life is not for me.
I don’t like living like my parents. I like showers, refrigerators, washing machines, and toilets. As soon as I was old enough to venture out on my own, I met Ali. I was sixteen, and she invited me to play in her backyard with her friend Roger. I was so embarrassed when I took in their clean clothes and fancy sneakers that I ran off, ashamed
Over the years, I would hang out with Ali whenever my parents would let me explore on my own, which was very rare, and occasionally after she moved into her house by the ocean. She’d even let me use her shower the few times that I’d asked.
I was taught to be independent, and that to ask for help was a sign of weakness. How the hell I’m going to get a house and stuff is beyond me. If I’m going to think seriously about moving into town, I think Ali is the one to help me, show me what it takes. She’s the only person I can call a friend, the only person I trust.
My mind touches on Sheriff Parker, who came back to camp with me after my father passed.
It was the single hardest thing I ever did, walking into town to tell the sheriff that my father took his life. When my mother passed it was quiet and so, so hard, but not messy. I suspect my mother had cancer, because it was slow and painful for her, in both body and spirit, until the day she passed.
Sheriff Parker tried so hard to get me to come home with him. The thought of me staying in the woods after everything that happened seemed to bug him on a level I didn’t understand.
He doesn’t scare me in the physical sense that my body is in danger, but more like my heart and other parts that have never perked up and spoken to me.
I shy away from that thought, because the birds and bees talk with my mother was all euphemisms and comparisons; nothing of fact. Ali gave me a book she stole from her moms when we were, like, sixteen.
I read it away from my parents and buried it. It was shocking at first; my cheeks were so hot, I thought my skin was burning away. I still borrow books from Ali, but I don’t bury them anymore. Parker makes me feel the same way the books do, and I’m not qui
te certain what to do about that just yet.
First, I think I’ll shower, then sit and contemplate what to do next.
***
Ali
Tears are coursing down my cheeks as I close the cover of yet another tearjerker, Pepper Winters book. I draw my knees up to my chest and look out at the ocean, and my jaw hits the deck. There’s a freaking pirate coming out of the ocean.
He’s wearing an eye patch, and a scarf wrapped around his head, a vest, and what looks like cut-off pajama pants. He has a tiny sword and is heading in my direction. I gasp like a scared maiden and clutch my chest with flair.
“Why, sir, you scared little old me. Where is your ship?”
“A’hoy, wench. Don ye be worried ’bout me ship. I’m here to plunder ye lady garden. Be a kind wench and make this easy. Spread dem thighs.”
I giggle a little bit, because this is funny. “Why good sir, I’m a lady, not a wench. I’ll not be spreading anything for your plundering, without a little bit of a fight.”
“Have it yer way, wench.” Next thing I know, he throws me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Can’t say I mind the view. My hands stretch down and caress his bountiful butt cheeks.
SMACK!
“Motherfucker, that hurt.”
“Don ye be touchin’ me arse, wench.”
I slide my hands down the back of his pants, and his steps falter. Then he’s running, with me bouncing around on his shoulder. I swear he’s going to make me puke.
In the house, we go down the hallway, and my world spins as he lifts me off his shoulder and throws me down on the bed.
“Aye, Lass, dis pirate is gonna plunder ye lady garden with me mouth ’til ye come on me face, but when ye scream, scream da right name…Captain Luke.”
My bikini bottoms go sailing through the air, then my pirate is between my legs. His lips land right on my clit, giving it a sensual suck that has my hips rising.
He pushes my legs up and dives in. His fingers penetrate me and I detonate. The orgasm explodes out, and my legs lock around his ears. My hands grab a handful of hair and I ride his face, taking every last bit of pleasure.
He comes up on his knees and jerks off his eye patch and scarf before pulling a condom out of the pocket on his vest. He rolls it down his beautiful length, and the head of his cock kisses my entrance.
“Ye ready, wench?”
“Yes. Fuck me, Captain Luke “
In one smooth stroke, he bottoms out and we both moan. We’re connected, and looking into his eyes, I see my future. It sounds cheesy as fuck, but there it is. I’m falling ass over tea kettle for this good-looking, sexy man.
Pulling back, he looks down to where we’re joined, then thrusts back in. I pull down my bikini top and my tits bounce up and down, his eyes tracking their movement as he begins to slam into me, harder and harder. My legs begin to shake.
“Come with me, Luke. I need you to come with me.”
His pace quickens and his fingers pinch my clit, adding a little pain to my pleasure. There’s no holding back. This one sweeps over me like a tidal wave, completely drowning out all reason. Four quick thrusts and he’s right there with me.
He pulls out slowly, and I moan at the loss. He pulls off the condom, knots it up, and chucks it somewhere not close to the trash, but I can’t seem to care.
He pulls me close and spoons me. Kissing the back of my neck, I close my eyes. It’s so lame, but I feel like crying. Everything is so perfect right now.
“I’m falling in love with you, Ali. Nothing in my life has ever felt as good as this.”
“I’m falling for you too, Captain Luke.”
He laughs into my hair, and rolling over, I stick my nose into his chest and inhale our combined scents. I feel a sweet kiss on my forehead that makes me smile, then I fall asleep in his arms.
par·ty1
Ali
I’m at the bar today, and it seems like the whole town is here. Luke’s at home working, said he’d be in later.
At the end of the bar, sipping on a warm beer, is Shamus. Why he likes warm beer I will never know. He’s probably Luke’s age, and cranky, with a very slight Irish accent.
We took Bruce off the “No Fly” list, so he’s drinking watered-down whiskey. Thankfully, he’s fully dressed today. The mood in the bar is oddly quiet; usually everyone is talking, chattering on like magpies.
It has me off-kilter. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I feel like things are changing around town. Maybe it’s just me. Since I met Luke I feel different—happier.
The door opens and I groan when the resident nudist Paul comes through the door. Paul is the only single man over the age of seventy in this town; his intense dislike for clothing is legendary. I’ve seen Paul’s pecker way too many times for my liking.
“Paul, what did Sheriff Parker tell you about walking around town in your underwear?”
“I’m not in my underwear. I have shorts on.”
“Those are not shorts, those are boxer briefs.”
“I got my tighty whities on underneath. After seeing Bruce’s nuts the other day when he was doing yard work in that slingshot he seems to think is clothing, I didn’t see an issue with my attire. These were the only “shorts” I had, so deal with it.”
He plops his ass down on the stool and gives me the stink-eye. “Heard you’re shaking things up with that new fellow.”
“That I am, Paul. His name is Luke,” I confirm.
“Also heard someone say we had a pirate problem on that beach in front of your place. Heard that pirate abducted you too.” The ornery bastard is smiling.
I grab his glass and chug half his beer before setting it back down, then head down to Shamus to make sure he’s all good.
“You good, Shamus? You need any more warm horse piss?”
“Fuck off, Ali.”
“Good.”
“To my fine patrons in the back, raise your hand if you need a refill.”
None go up, so I sit back down on the stool and pull up my phone to read a bit. The quiet is killing me, so I head over to the Jukebox and throw a five in, choosing a ton of happy classics.
Respect by Aretha comes on, and I dance my way back to the bar. I swear Shamus even cracks a smile. My singing skills are way better than my dancing skills. I look like a cross between Elaine from Seinfeld having a seizure and Carlton from Fresh Prince. But I don’t care. This depressing air is wrecking my life high.
I grab the tongs from the lemon bucket and start singing and dancing around the bar. Next thing I know, Bruce, who can’t help himself, gets up and starts dancing too.
Twist and Shout starts to play, and Paul gets up to shake his a bony old ass. I look over at Shamus, and he’s trying to hide his grin in his nasty mountain man beard.
Throwing open the doors, I almost take little Miss Lucy out. Lucy’s real name is Pearl, but she’s under the impression that she’s Lucille Ball reincarnated, so we all play along. She walks in and sees the dancing and she joins in, snapping her fingers and shaking her ass.
“Hell yeah! Lucille, my love, shake that fine ass!” This comes from Paul, who sometimes pretends to be Desi Arnaz just for her.
The geriatric bump and grind is in full effect, and this is why I love this town. I jump back behind the bar and start slinging drinks, as more and more people start to make their way inside. The place is hopping, and even the folks walking down the sidewalk past the door are dancing.
Margo and Cleo come in with Luke, and the moms head behind the bar. I make a beeline straight for Luke and jump into his arms.
By the time I sit down, I’m a sweaty mess, but the sad air is gone. People are bringing in food, and an impromptu party is in full swing.
Sitting on Luke’s lap, I look into his smiling face, thinking life could not get any better.
Leaning forward, I plant one right on the kisser, slipping in a little tongue. I’m feeling a bit naughty, and the entire bar starts oohing and aahing. Some people even whistle.
<
br /> “Babe, this town…it’s magical. It’s like a big crazy family, but it’s made about a hundred times better because of you. I’m so glad I moved here.”
Looking around, I think the same thing. Spartan town might be low on populace, but the ones who do live here are just about the coolest people on Earth. You need help, they’re there. Turn up the tunes and people come out of the woodwork to dance, sing, and party.
Settling down with my man, I can’t help but smile, thinking of how great life is. But I should’ve known better. The universe is a bitch, and apparently my overwhelming happiness needed to be tempered a bit. Because just a week later, hell comes to visit.
dev·as·ta·tion
Ali
One week later
I jump up to grab the door when the doorbell rings. When I open it, I work hard to hold in my laugh.
“Hello, ma’am. I heard your sink is leaking and I’m here to fix your plumbing.”
Luke is standing there in Timberland boots, cut-off jeans shorts, a tool belt with my vibrator in the pouch, condoms, handcuffs, and lube. A plaid button up shirt, unbuttoned and hanging open, and a backward baseball cap completes the ensemble.
“Yeah, I called ages ago. Took you long enough. My plumbing needs some work.”
“All right, lady. I don’t got all day, so let’s head to your bedroom and check it out.”
“My bedroom? What does my bedroom have to do with my plumbing?”
“Gotta check it all out.”
I lead him back to the bedroom and he stops me, moving his hands up to cup my breasts. “Mister Plumber, sir, I don’t even know your name?”
“Luke.”
I moan as his fingers start to play with my nipples. He walks me forward, keeping hold of my nipples until we get to the room, then pushes me face first onto the bed and smacks my ass for good measure.
He flips my sundress up and both hands grab my ass before he leans down to kiss both cheeks. His teeth take hold of my thong and pull them down, his beard scraping the back of my legs. It’s fucking delicious.
