by Jewel E. Ann
“Oh, so now this is my fault?” She plants her hands on her hips.
I shake my head. “No, it’s just … it doesn’t matter. We need to figure out what we’re going to do.”
“Well, it’s after midnight so we can’t take the T.”
I mimic her stance and bend toward her so we’re eye level. “Really? You think the reason we can’t take the T is because it’s closed? Not possibly, hmm let’s see … because we’re practically naked?”
She looks down at her shirt or my shirt. “It’s no shorter than some of my dresses.”
“You’re not wearing underwear.”
She gives me the wide-eyed and-your-point-is look. I stare up at the sky and shake my head some more then look back at her.
“It’s white and your nipples are not and … it doesn’t matter anyway! You may gallivant around town in short dresses and no underwear, but I don’t go anywhere in just briefs.”
“I still don’t see how this is my fault.”
I grab her and lead her down the steps. “It’s not worth arguing over. It doesn’t change anything.”
“Where are we going?”
“Chance’s. Unless you know someone closer.”
“That’s like a thirty minute walk.”
“Forty, if we avoid the busy streets and guess what? We’re going to avoid the busy streets.”
“My second skin patches on my feet will never hold up walking barefoot on concrete and cobblestone.”
“Tell me about it. Mine won’t either … oh that’s right, only one of us has cushy little padding on our cuts.”
“Babe, I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice.”
“No, really?”
She pulls her hand out of my grasp and stops, folding her arms across her chest. “I’m not taking another step until you apologize for your grumpiness.”
One thing is for sure: This woman brings out every emotion humanly possible.
I hold my arms out to the side. “Look at us? We’re passing-one-cop-car away from getting arrested for indecent exposure and you want me to apologize for my grumpiness?”
She nods.
I rub my hands over my face and groan. “Fine! I’m sorry for not being happy about our situation. I will try to enjoy this leisurely walk to my brother’s place in my underwear a little more. Happy?”
She takes my hand and we continue to walk. “You could stand to work on your apologies.”
I think I taste blood, I’m biting my tongue so hard.
“I wish we had some money on us. Do you think any of the Dunks around here are open all night?”
Laughter vibrates through my chest. I can’t hold it in. “I don’t have any reason to know if one is open at this hour. Although I’d be surprised if there isn’t one of their gazillion locations open all night. Why the hell do we need so many anyway? There are two at the train station within like twenty yards of each other. I just don’t get it.”
“A lot of Dunkin’ Donuts are franchises and by contract if you open one you have to open another within a year. But the reason they can do that and keep so many open is the concept of business cluster. A geographically concentrated group or cluster of businesses that share similar markets. It’s like seeing a McDonald’s and Burger King next to each other. It’s not so much about giving the consumers a choice, it’s about the demand for burgers and fries—enough to keep both businesses in business. So with a huge coffee demand why wouldn’t Dunks be on every corner? More concentrated locations means convenience, shorter lines, and happier customers. If they’re going to share customers with the coffee place up the block or across the street, why not keep it in the family and let it be with another Dunkin’ Donuts? It’s called transfer of sales.”
Yep. She’s a one-track mind business geek. Just when I think she’s losing it tonight, she goes off on business clustering 101.
“I’m impressed and surprisingly a little turned on. Like the day I came back from rowing and you were reading the business section of the newspaper with your black-framed glasses. I like it when you get the fuck-me schoolgirl or naughty teacher thing going on.”
“Lovely, Oli. I hope my economics professor gets as aroused as you by my contractionary monetary policy paper. It should guarantee me an A.”
“Fuck! Stop, Vivian.” I adjust myself.
“Oh my gosh! That actually turns you on?”
I shrug. “Intelligence is sexy.”
“Wanna do it in the alley?” She gestures with her head toward a dark alleyway off to our right.
“No, I don’t want to do it in the alley.”
She tugs on my hand making me stop. “Are you sure about that?” She grins looking at the bulge in my briefs.
My cock is trying to break free. “It’s just because we’re talking about it.”
Grabbing my hand she presses it between her legs. “So you don’t want to put that in here?”
I swallow. My heart pounds in my chest. Of course I want to bury myself inside of her. I hate it when my dick doesn’t understand bad and inappropriate timing.
I pull my hand back. “We’re not doing this.”
“Okay, lead the way with your iron rod … stud.”
“You’re trying to bait me and it’s not going to work.” I continue ahead, trying to will my dick to just … take a nap or play dead. I see headlights coming toward us. “Crap! Hide!” I pull her back and into the alley.
“Well … since we’re here now.”
“No.” I peek around the corner, keeping Vivian behind me, and look for any other cars.
She slips her finger under my waist band and tugs me back. “Just a quickie.”
“No.” I smack her hand away.
“A blow job?”
“What? No!”
“A hand job.”
“No!” I tug on her hand to get going but she yanks her hand away.
“You could go down on me.”
“Vivian Graham! Let’s go!”
An eye roll and a pouty lip, but she follows. “You are so getting replaced with my new vibrator.”
*
Vivian
One of the things I love about Oliver is his maturity. One of things I hate about Oliver … his maturity. Come on, it’s one o’clock in the morning. Who is ever going to see us in a dark alley? Good grief, he’s walking down the sidewalks of Boston in his underwear like a damn Diesel model and he expects me to keep my hands off the merchandise? We’re about two blocks from Chance’s and he’s banned me from so much as holding his hand—possibly because I try to rub it against my girlie parts to entice him.
“My feet hurt, Oli.”
“We’re almost there.”
“I can’t make it.”
“Yes you can.”
“You’re going to have to carry me, babe.”
He stops and turns around. I’m a few feet back, shoulders sagging, back hunched—total puppy dog eyes.
“Fine, but behave.”
I reel in my enthusiasm, releasing just a small appreciative grin. “Thanks, babe.” I jump on his back, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep a moan of pleasure from escaping as my bare, wet sex rubs against his flesh. He has to feel it. I’m not just moist and sticky, I’m a dang Slip N’ Slide.
His long strides turn into a rhythm. Friction. Release. Friction. Release.
“Oh God …”
“What?”
My forehead falls to his shoulder. “Nothing.” My voice is breathy. I try to keep my body still, letting him do all the work … all the unintentional teasing. But there’s nothing I want more than to rock my hips into him. I have never been this horny. I picture us on my birthday, him slamming up into me over and over against Chance’s truck.
“Yes!” The word escapes before I can stop it.
“Yes, what?”
“I see his bu-building … We’re almost th-there.”
“Think you can walk now?”
“No! More … I mean … keep going.”
“
What the hell is wrong with you?” He releases my legs and I almost cry as I drop to my feet.
“You have sweat on your brow. Why are you sweating? I was the one carrying you, not the other way around.”
I squeeze my legs together.
“Do you have to go to the bathroom?”
I grimace and shake my head. “I was really close to … and now you’ve left me hanging and—”
“Close to?” He reaches around and feels his back. “Were you getting off on me?”
My grimace intensifies as my skin takes on heat and a nice rosy color.
He rubs his fingers together. This is monumentally embarrassing. “Well … did you finish?”
I shake my head.
“Were you close?”
I nod.
He turns. “Hop back on then.”
“What? No … no way. I’m not going to just hop back on and hump your back the rest of the way down the street.”
Oliver shrugs. “Suit yourself. I was only trying to help.” A cocky smirk plays across his face.
I send him my meanest glare. “If you really wanted to help me you would have left me with an exfoliated back from the brick alleyway wall and a sated vagina.”
“Oh for crying out loud, not this again. I’ll do you as soon as we get home. Deal?”
Why the nerve …
I breeze past him. “Think again, buddy! You won’t be doing me until I’m good and ready. And that won’t be anytime soon!” It will be soon.
After streaking our way up the desolate alley, Oliver stands right in front of me. I move a little to the right, he moves a little to the right. I move left, he moves left. Finally, I shove him.
“What are you doing?”
“My brother doesn’t need to see you in that.” He knocks on the door.
“It’s dark out, Oli. So unless he pours a bucket of water on me, I don’t think you have any reason to worry.”
Oliver knocks again, this time a little louder.
“Dude! What the fuck?” Chance looks like a bear emerging from its cave after a long winter. A bear with a loosely tied sheet around its waist. “Where are your clothes, Bro?”
“It’s a long story so don’t ask, but we got locked out. I need you to grab your key to my place and drive us home.”
“Well I would except my truck is still parked along the street in front of your place, dip shit. I figured you’d pick me up for work in the morning. Don’t you remember? We had too much to drink? I took the T. Did you two walk here?” Chance looks at me for a second too long and Oliver tries to shield me from his sight.
“Yes, we had no other choice. Alex is gone and so is the spare key to their place. Obviously neither one of us has a phone on us, so we had to walk here.”
“Why didn’t you drive my truck. Would have been faster and less … streak-showish.”
“I don’t have your keys.” Oliver pushes him aside, grabs my hand, and drags me in the house. He tosses me a blanket from the couch. “Cover up,” he mouths.
I roll my eyes and wrap it around me.
Chance shuts the door. “The keys are in the truck, under the floor mat where I always keep them.”
“You don’t lock your truck?” I question.
Oliver drops his head. “He never locks it … the idiot.”
“I’m the idiot? I think my brother, who knows I always keep my truck unlocked with the keys under the mat, is the idiot for traipsing his half-naked girlfriend through the streets of Boston in the middle of the night.”
“Someone was a little muddled in the head tonight,” I murmur.
Oliver’s head snaps up. “You’re still trying to pin this one on me?”
I give him the if-the-shoe-fits smirk and head tilt.
“Hey, Oli … I’m hungry. Hey, Oli … let’s get some cookies. Hey, Oli … we don’t need our clothes. Hey, Oli … don’t be such a spoilsport. Who’s going to see us at this hour?” Oliver mimics me with his best high-pitched voice.
Chance laughs. “I’m going back to bed. You two can have the spare bedroom, or there are blankets in my closet if you get your ass kicked to the couch, Bro.”
“Thanks, Chance.” I smile, but Oli ignores us both.
“So … I’m going to use the bathroom then go to bed.”
Oliver grabs my blanket from me, wraps it around himself with his lips in a firm line as he lies down on the couch without a single word. Yep, he’s peeved.
“You can sleep in the guest room with me.”
He doesn’t say anything. Clearly, him sleeping on the couch is my punishment, not his. I sulk up the stairs, use the bathroom, and crawl into the lonely guest bed.
My monkey brain won’t let me get to sleep. I can’t stop thinking about Oliver downstairs, mad at me. Then memories of how our whole evening started begin to replay in my head. Caroline killed Melanie … Suffocated her with a pillow … the pillow in that locked room. I remember the pain in his eyes, the feel of his watery emotions on my cheek, and I still hear the echo of his sobs. And now, I go to him.
*
It’s quiet down here. I can’t tell if he’s asleep or not. I tiptoe my way through the family room to the couch. Just as I start to contemplate whether I should say something or tap his shoulder, he lifts his arm holding up the blanket—inviting me in. The room is dimly lit by the light from the fish tank, reflecting shadows in his eyes. We stare at each other, my body resting on his.
His lips twitch and I think he’s about to say something, but instead he kisses me.
Match. Strike. Flame.
He sits up never letting go of my lips until he pulls my shirt off. I moan with the touch of his mouth on my breasts, arching my back into him. He fists my hair and tugs hard while assaulting every inch of my skin from breasts to lips. I lace my fingers through his hair and rock my pelvis against him. A vague memory of my intentions to deny him as a punishment fades into oblivion as he leans me back on the couch and removes his boxer briefs. He doesn’t wait. The animal in Oliver takes over. Pushing my right knee up toward my shoulder he sinks into me. We both moan.
He pauses, looking at me with such intensity, then pulls back and slams into me, over and over. I want this feeling to last, but my body is in desperate search for a release and there is nothing I can do to stop it. I bite my bottom lip with blood-drawing intensity and thrash my head back and forth willing myself to hold on just a little bit longer. Oli takes my hand and sticks my fingers in his mouth, sucking them and swirling his tongue around them. Then he moves my hand between us. I circle my fingers, slick with his saliva, over my clitoris. Closing my eyes I imagine it’s his tongue. He picks up his pace and my fingers circle faster. His lips find mine and we both fall over the edge together, our moans muffled and captured by our deep kiss.
“I love you … just so … completely.”
His words grab me and hold me in another dimension that’s beyond the reach of the rest of the world. It’s our world where time stands still, yet together we grow and connect, our love intertwining into something so beautiful.
“My love for you, Oli, has no depths. It’s effortless and forever,” I whisper with tears in my eyes. The emotional impact of the night has caught up to the moment, and the infinite love I have for Oliver is overwhelming.
Bliss … it’s all I see in his soft, endearing smile. We cocoon ourselves in the blanket and fall asleep. Our paths to each other have been brutal and unforgiving, but I would do it all over again if it meant I’d end up in these same arms.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Go
Oliver
Rosenberg came to visit two weeks ago … and he’s still here. Vivian’s parents were going to be out of town for the weekend to celebrate their anniversary. I’ve offered to drive Rosenberg back to Hartford, but Vivian hasn’t wanted me to go without her, and she’s been too busy to go. She also hasn’t moved back in yet. However, she’s been kind enough to leave Rosenberg with me to keep me company. How thoughtful!
When she’s not working at the greenhouse, she’s helping Alex and her mom plan for the wedding. I can’t help but wonder if Vivian has the white gown ’til-death-do-us-part dream. She’s never mentioned it and neither have I. My life is still preoccupied with the demons behind that door that’s still locked. Hence the reason Vivian is not living here.
Then there’s the incessant phone calls and texts from Doug, pleading with me to come to Portland. Most of the time I let it go to voicemail, but as of lately, I’ve been answering just to tell him to stop calling, then I hang up. His persistence and the desperate tone of his pleas cinches the already existent knot in my stomach. I feel like he’s a ticking bomb ready to ruin my life like his daughter tried to do.
“Rosenberg? Oli?” Vivian calls, and in that order, as I pull the lasagna out of the oven. That fluff ball rates way above me; it’s pathetic and embarrassing.
“He’s on the couch licking his balls.”
She comes up behind me and slides her hands up under the front of my shirt. “And you?”
“I can’t bend that far. I tried the other day, hoping you’d love me as much as the mutt, but I just can’t quite reach.”
She giggles with her lips pressed to my back. “I mean what are you doing?”
“Making dinner.”
She rakes her nails down my chest as I slice the French loaf. “I can see that, silly. It just looks like a lot of food for the two of us.”
“I know, we’re having company.”
“Oh, who?”
“Your parents. They’re taking Rosenberg home tonight since you’ve been too busy to go with me to take him back.”
I glance over my shoulder to see the look on her face. Wide eyes and a gaping mouth … just as I suspected.
“You called them? About Rosenberg?”
“I called them to see if they wanted to have dinner with us. I just assume they’ll take Rosenberg home with them. Why wouldn’t they?”
“I … well … it’s just …”
I turn and lean against the counter with my arms crossed over my chest. “You seem to be stammering. Do you have something to tell me?”
