Confessions of a Reformed Tom Cat

by Daisy Prescott

  Her phone vibrated and rang from the floor. We paused in our kissing, and I waited for her to say something.

  “Ignore it. Nothing good comes from late night phone calls.”

  I shifted to release some pressure where the zipper of my open fly ground into my skin.

  “Take your pants off,” she commanded.

  I paused. “Bossy much?”

  “We’re going to end up naked eventually. Why wait and prolong the inevitable?”

  “The inevitable sounds like the ice shelf melting or polar bears going extinct. Doomsday and disaster. Not hot sex.”

  “Who said the sex was hot?” She smirked at me.

  I nipped her shoulder. “I believe you did less than an hour ago. Isn’t that why you’re here?”

  With a gentle shove, she encouraged me to roll to my side. She shifted to the edge of the couch and said, “Actually, I only needed to use your bathroom.”

  Laughing, she moved out of range before I could pull her to me. With a few quick movements, she dropped her jeans and stepped out of her underwear. I sat up fully to watch her, attempting to figure out her next move. She both confused and intrigued me.

  Before I could stand, she dashed over to the stairs and up the first few steps. I nearly tripped over my own jeans trying to catch up to her, and then face planted on the first stair, barely bracing myself with my hands in a semi-pantsless push-up. After an awkward struggle, I kicked off my jeans and boots, following her upstairs in only my boxers and socks.

  Both the bedroom and bathroom doors were closed. I peeked into the bedroom and found it empty. Waiting for her, I propped myself up on the pillows and stripped off my remaining clothing. The house was cold, but my skin felt flushed when I took myself in hand and stroked. Running water and the faint squeak of the door opening announced her return. She strode into the room and studied me for a few seconds before flopping on the bed next to me.

  “Here, let me.” She moved my hand out of the way, and again, her cool skin contrasted against mine.

  “Shit, why are your hands always so cold?”

  She paused and loosened her grip. “Want me to stop?”

  “No, but you should get them checked out. Maybe you have a heart condition.” I pulled her toward me and kissed her. Her hand set the rhythm and our mouths echoed it. I slowed down the pace and touched the tops of her thighs, dragging my hand slowly up and over her hip before settling in the space between her legs. My fingers met with smooth skin below a small patch of hair. I paused. Hailey had waxed since our last meet-up. She was definitely a single girl now. I briefly wondered if she had other men besides me.

  I stretched my arm to reach the top drawer in the nightstand, but she leaned over me to grab the condom. She pulled out a long row of them and gave me a sidelong look. “Jeez, do you buy them in bulk?”

  “Of course. Those things add up.”

  Her eyes flashed to mine and I shrugged. We’d already been over this. Without breaking eye contact, she tore the edge of the wrapper with her teeth.

  That was hot. I loved when a woman took charge. Sometimes. Better than lying there like a log and making me do all the work. Where was the fun in that? Sex, after all, was about fun, not work.

  She straddled my hips, beaming down on me. I matched her grin and gripped her thighs, urging her up, wanting to be inside of her.

  Her hands covered mine and she whispered, “Patience.”

  “Patience is a virtue and I’m not feeling particularly virtuous right now. Don’t tease.” I flicked her nipple.

  With a smooth movement, she impaled herself on me until there was nothing left of me outside of her. She paused and I felt her open further to accommodate me. I fought the urge to thrust and grind myself into her, seeking a way to feel more of this amazing sensation. I wanted to feel her without the condom. Would she feel like silk or velvet?

  I stopped. I never had sex without a condom. Ever.

  Well, not since high school and the pregnancy scare. After, I ruled I’d never trust a woman when she said she was on the pill.

  “Tom?”

  I still hadn’t moved. I opened my eyes to meet green ones.

  “Did I do something wrong?” She shifted her position as if to climb off me.

  I held her in place and thrusted. “No, nothing wrong. Everything right.”

  Holding her lower back and hip with one hand and the other on her boob, I moved her above me. She arched her back and tossed her head, tweaking her nipple.

  “You’re beautiful.” The truth slipped out without thought.

  Her eyes flashed open and she leaned forward to kiss me, bracing her arms near my head. It changed the angle and I went deeper. I wanted more.

  I rolled us over and lifted her legs to my shoulders. Ah, there it was—the sensation where I couldn’t tell I ended and she began. So deep I wished my dick was bigger, longer, thicker to feel more of her. Not that I had a small dick.

  She closed her eyes, and I studied her face, prolonging this feeling. She had a small dark freckle on her cheekbone near her left eye. Her lips parted and I noticed the bottom one was much fuller than the top. Her front teeth bit into the plump flesh and I envied them. I leaned forward to claim it for my own, causing her to moan and tighten her arms around me. My hand snaked between us and I stroked her clit. Her palm lay on top of mine and she showed me how much and where, releasing me when I figured it out.

  This was different than the first night. Last time, I didn’t feel I had to prove anything. I knew I would show her the time she wanted, even if she believed she was using me for sex. Tonight, she took charge, but I won.

  Her teeth found her lip again when I pinched her nipple and pressed against her with my thumb. She tensed and tightened around me before she came. I stared at her face, gorgeous in ecstasy, and felt myself near the edge. I paused and pulled out for a second. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Did you come?” she asked.

  I shook my head. “I need a break before you go for seconds.”

  A slow, blissed-out grin spread across her face. “Pretty cocky, aren’t you?”

  I raised a shoulder and stroked myself. “Roll over and we’ll see if it’s cockiness or confidence. Or both.”

  She lifted on all fours like a good girl with her face peering over her shoulder as I stroked her ass. “What are you waiting for?”

  “Simply admiring the view.” I gave her cheek a slap and she replied with a soft moan. When I slapped the other one she moaned louder.

  “I like that.”

  “Which part?” I spanked her at the bottom of the curve of her ass.

  “That. And when you take charge.”

  “I know. Ready?” I plunged into her again, quickly finding our rhythm. As much as I loved this position, I wasn’t sure if I could keep my promise of another orgasm. Bracing on one arm, she reached up to stroke herself, arching against my thrusts.

  Good old-fashioned teamwork brought her another orgasm before I felt myself tip over into my own. I lost myself, pulled under by pleasure, as I grunted and moaned. Exhausted, I fell on top of her and she collapsed beneath me. Our chests heaved and a fine layer of sweat sealed our skin together. I moved her hair from her neck and lightly bit her shoulder.

  “Hi,” she whispered. “You’re crushing me.”

  I stretched, my arms and legs taking up the middle of my king bed. A slight ache reminded me of the sex last night. Blinking open my eyes in the bright morning light, I listened for sounds of water in the bathroom. Normal stillness in the house answered me. I lifted my head and studied the space for signs Hailey was still here.

  “Idaho?” I called out.

  Nothing.

  I located my boxers on the floor and stepped into them. The floor was cold and I hopped around to avoid making prolonged contact on my way to the bathroom. I didn’t smell coffee or breakfast cooking on my way down the stairs. Her clothes were gone from the coffee table and floor. The couch cushions had been fluffed into their normal po
sitions. I threw on my shirt from last night that smelled of smoke from the bonfire, and padded over to the kitchen to make coffee. No note on the counter either.

  Huh.

  I spun around and studied the rooms. No sign she’d ever been here at all.

  Little did she know, I’d planned to make her breakfast.

  Oh well.

  Her loss.

  I found my phone and scrolled through to see if she’d texted.

  Nothing.

  I realized I didn’t have her phone number. Why would I? I had no need to call her before. I guess I could get it from work on Monday. Not that I needed it. I wasn’t going to chase her.

  I smirked, confident there would be a next time. Sex with Hailey was different, better.

  HOLIDAYS COULD BE torture for the single man, or they could be prime time to fill the needs of lonely women. Thanksgiving meant a day of football and eating at the farmhouse. A day when men could be men and sit around watching other men play sports, with a never-ending supply of snacks¸ beer, and sanctioned post-meal naps. Dad and Pops claimed the two recliners in the family room while I stretched out in the corner of the couch and rested my feet on the coffee table next to the bowl of chips.

  My phone chirped with a message. A local number flashed on the screen, but I didn’t recognize it. I punched in my code to unlock the phone—couldn’t be too careful—and opened the message.

  *Happy T Day. ~H.*

  Ducking my head, I smiled to myself. Nick sat next to me, but he leaned forward, intent on the game, shouting at the coaches and arguing with the announcer’s take on the last play. I quickly typed a message.

  *Hank, is this you?*

  I smirked and waited.

  *Who’s Hank?*

  *Sorry, Howard.*

  I drummed my fingers on my leg.

  *You know a lot of men with names beginning with H. Guess again.*

  I tapped the phone against my cheek, trying to think of another guy’s name with an H.

  *Hector, sorry man. Or is this Horatio?*

  *Hector’s going to be pissed you don’t have his number saved. Js*

  *Damn. I’m out of guys. Heidi?*

  A full play went down on TV and a commercial break aired before my phone lit up with another text.

  *Har, har.*

  I’d gone too far. Time to confess.

  *Hailey, I knew it was you. You at your folks?*

  She replied right away. *Yep. You?*

  *Not at your parents. Sitting on the couch with the men while women make us a feast.* I knew it would rile her up, but I couldn’t stop the teasing if I tried. I was having too much fun. Around me, cheers and high fives erupted for a touchdown. Or a field goal. I’d completely missed it.

  “Woot,” I shouted, lamely after the fact.

  Pops shot me a dirty look. “You going to watch the game with the rest of us or play on your gadget?”

  “Ooh, busted,” Nick said next to me. “You making plans for a hook-up later?” He leaned over, trying to see my screen.

  I turned my phone against my chest in case he recognized Hailey’s number. “No, just a friend.”

  Another text arrived.

  *Sounds like a classic sexist set up you’ve got going there. Dinner’s ready. Thanks for the chat.*

  I frowned. I didn’t want our conversation to end even if I got teased.

  *Maybe if you’re bored, we can hang out this weekend. Happy Thanksgiving.* I hit send before I talked myself out of it.

  No immediate response, so I tucked my phone under my thigh and got into the game, shoveling chips and crab dip into my mouth.

  “Slow down, Tom, your mother’s going to be mad if you can’t have seconds and thirds at dinner,” Dad chided.

  Something about being in this room with Dad and Pops brought me right back to being a kid. Feeling chastised and annoyed, I got up and walked down the hall to take a piss. Female voices carried from the kitchen and I paused. Normally, I couldn’t care less what they gossiped about, but I thought I heard a familiar name.

  “Hailey said it was completely over. Kurt became more and more controlling after he proposed. She returned the ring right after Halloween.” Lori continued their conversation.

  Like a creeper, I crept down the hall to hear more.

  “Oh, that’s a shame,” Gramma said. “And at her age, it’s not as easy to find a nice man. The good ones are all taken.”

  I frowned and crossed my arms.

  “Tom’s still single,” Mom said, defending me.

  I could always count on Mom to take my side. A burst of laughter followed her words.

  “Right. And for good reason, Mom.” Amy’s voice joined the conversation.

  Cara was still laughing.

  “What’s wrong with Tom?” Mom asked.

  “Um, how to say this in front of Gramma.” Lori’s voice hesitated. “He’s not a bad guy, he’s just a—”

  “He’s one of those bachelors, honey. You know, the kind you call for a good time and a little hanky-panky, but don’t introduce to your parents.”

  My grandmother had called me out.

  Amy, Cara, and Lori cackled in unison.

  “Oh, that’s not true.” Mom chuckled. “He hasn’t met the right woman yet.”

  “Yet? How many women does he have to try out? He’s running out of females on the island. Plus, he’s not twenty-two anymore,” Amy said.

  “You know, Pops was a real ladies’ man when I met him. I think your mother is right. It takes a special kind of woman to tame a Donnely man.”

  “I have to agree with that,” Mom said. “Your father—”

  “Mom, do not say anything about Dad. Please!” Lori screeched. “La la la la.”

  I could picture her standing with her fingers in her ears like she did as a kid.

  Cara’s voice spoke over Lori’s singing. “I guess time will tell with Tom. I’d never set him up with any of my friends. That’s for sure.”

  Gee, thanks, Cara.

  I’d had enough and went into the bathroom. Staring in the mirror, I cocked my head and rubbed my beard. Who were they to label and judge me? Their words stung. Screw them. I never told them how to live their lives.

  Getting married, having kids, and settling down wasn’t for everyone.

  And definitely not for me.

  I thought about texting Ashley to meet up later, but after her “special” party, I wasn’t sure it would be a good idea. We hadn’t spoken or been in contact since.

  “Dinner’s ready,” Mom called from the dining room. I popped my head through the doorway from the hall and she gave me a guilty smile. “Tom, mind calling the kids in from outside?

  The family poured into the room and as people took their seats, it became apparent we were a chair short at the grown-up table.

  “Mom? We’re missing a chair for Tom,” Cara pointed out as I entered the room, kids shoving past me to their table in the kitchen.

  Mom’s face dropped. “No, that can’t be right. We’re always ten. Oh! I forgot to adjust for Nick.”

  “It’s fine. I can sit at the kids’ table.” With a hollow laugh, I walked toward the breakfast nook. Sitting around the kitchen table were my five nieces and nephews, each with a pre-made plate of food and a glass of milk. One chair sat empty at the head.

  Squeals of “Uncle Tom” greeted me when I sat down among the Lilliputian Donnelys, the future of the family.

  “Did you know the turkey’s name was Tom, too?” Sam the smartass asked me.

  “I’m pretty sure this one was named Butterball.” I stole Sam’s roll and he kicked me.

  “Mom!” the little bugger yelled. “Uncle stole my roll!”

  “Don’t be a tattle-tale,” Amy shouted. “Tom, give back the roll.”

  I took a bite and put the roll on his plate with a smile. A small shoe made contact with my shin again. “Ouch,” I mumbled through gritted teeth.

  Pops’ deep baritone rang out with the words of prayer and a blessing for
the food while I rubbed my leg, and gave my nephew the stink-eye.

  After grace, I took a plate and filled it in the dining room. Lori and Cara gave me looks of sympathy, going so far as to offer their chairs at the table.

  “Nah, you two need the break. I can handle the kids.”

  It would never be clear how or who started the great mashed potato fight at the kids’ table. My money and version would always be that it began with little Lily with her blonde curls and cherub cheeks. Yes, she was under two, but had a mean arm and a spoon she knew how to use. In the aftermath, it became clear I’d borne the worst of the attack. My hair and beard were covered in gravy laden spuds and melted butter.

  Perhaps there was a small part of my brain which felt smug over the potato incident. The disapproval and tsking from the sister/mom brigade made me chuckle, earning me dirty looks and threats of having to bathe all five kids. Dad laughed and threw me a kitchen towel while Pops reminisced about a food fight in the Navy, which earned him a short stay in the brig. While my sisters cleaned up their various children, I wiped down the table, chairs, ceiling light, wall, along with a framed watercolor of a pig, and a spot on the ceiling ten feet away that I blamed on Lily, aka future champion softball pitcher.

  We adjourned to the family room to stretch out and rub our swollen bellies before dessert. My phone laid abandoned on the couch cushion where I’d left it. It flashed with a notification. Not wanting to get my hopes up, I stuck it in my shirt pocket and waited.

  Uncertainty weighed heavy in my chest where my phone tugged at my pocket for the next five minutes. Unable to wait any longer, I pulled it out and saw two new text messages. One was from Ashley, which I ignored. The other was from Hailey.

  *Sure.*

  One word.

  Four letters.

  A whole world of possibilities.

  FRIDAY DAWNED CLEAR and blue. The brisk air snuck through leaky windows and gaps in the floor. Sunny days would be rare over the next few months. With a day off and no plans, I decided to take the Triumph for a ride up the island. Dry roads, clear skies, and the perfect day lay ahead of me. In preparation for winter’s long, dark, damp days, islanders spent as much time outside on the non-wet days as possible, storing up Vitamin D and the feel of warmth on our skin to last us for months.