by M. C. Cerny
I hold her and shuffle to the bed laying her down on the soft comforter. Joined in a way I never thought we would be together, I tell her, “I loved you since the seventh grade.”
“I know. I couldn’t get rid of you if I tried.” Our eyes searched for our shared truth finding it in the quite buzz of the hotel room in the city of sin. What a pair we made.
My hands brushed her wild dark hair back. The red ombre locks looked like an eerie pool under her head while the angel wings made me think I’d finally pinned a beautiful butterfly, I never wanted to let her go.
“I picked on you because it was the only surefire way to keep you from ignoring me.”
Kristen rolled her eyes, “Duh. Taylor’s mom told me as much. I wasn’t ready to listen.”
“You? Not listen?” I teased and we laughed kissing lips drinking each other in.
“No. I’m pretty bad at that, but I’d like to think I make up for it in other ways.”
“I might need you to show me.” I held her arms up over her head and roll my hips earning me a gasp as she bites her bottom lip.
“Challenge accepted, Demon Hart.” Kristen shifts and rolled her body taking me with her in some yoga self-defense move. I’m all about women’s liberation but even that move surprised. I end up on my back with a half vixen she-devil, half angel on her knees milking my dick. Whoever said heaven is a place on earth didn’t know Kristen Calloway. I would happily follow her to the dark side for a taste of this.
*****
“If I had known you had this kind of stamina…” Kristen feeds me a grape from a tray of fruit and cheese we ordered an hour ago between bouts of reconnecting.
“I thought we had a nice truce going on here.”
She stuffed another grape in my mouth, the juice popping from my mouth.
“We do. I’m just thinking if you had performed like this back…”
“Tut, tut, tut.” I said popping a strawberry between her lips in the dark. Sometimes it was better if Kristen didn’t say anything. I loved her, I truly did, but I also knew she was a tempest, and a bit of a shrew. I enjoyed Shakespeare in high school and might have taken an English Literature class in college under the radar when I was trying to date this girl with an Irish accent my senior year. However, I would never tell Kristen that because she would off me quicker than Hamlet’s poor father.
“Do you think they know we left?” Kristen is tracing the lines of muscles on my chest.
“Has your phone been blowing up?” I asked and we both rolled over to check our phones. “Huh, they like that group chat shit don’t they?” and as I read it my heart sinks lower.
VEGAS-HARTS
TaylorJane: I hope you two are together and being safe *smiley emote*
MinorLia: Hey, I brought extra condoms!!
ChaseTheMan: If there’s a fucking sock on the door, I WILL KILL YOU.
MinorLia: HEY! Who changed my chat name?
BoyScout: Dude? Seriously? She’s 20, let it go.
TaylorJane: Text me back, they want to send out a search party for one. Sorry Damien.
Hunter: Call me if you need anything, except bail money again. That goes for both of you.
ChaseTheMan: I’ll pay Kristen’s bail, but not Dumbass. Did he ever get his license back?
Hunter: …
TaylorJane: ….
Boyscout: Dude, you lost license? Who popped you for that?
ChaseTheMan: Who do you think? LOL
TaylorJane: Yeah anyway, so we’re back in the room, and we’re getting breakfast at 11am. Meet you there?
Hunter: I’m with Taylor Jane, y’all are on your own now.
BoyScout: I’m bolting the door so Chase doesn’t kill you when you come back.
MinorLia: Can someone please change my name back?? I’m old enough to get a tattoo, geez.
Kristen looked over at me when she’s finished scrolling through the messages from our asshole friends. “So you lost your driver’s license?”
“Yup.” I said letting the letter p pop from my lips torn between anger and relief I’m not having to hide it anymore.
“When do you get it back?” She rolled into my side rubbing her hands up and down my chest to rest on my hips as she mounted me again taking me off guard.
“A few more weeks.” I shrugged in the dark.
“That sounds serious.” Fingernails raked over my chest.
“I’m doing this group program for court.” The air leaves my chest and Kristen leaned down to kiss her way down my body smiling mischievously. “Pebbles what are you doing?”
I felt her breath against my hip bone drift to my groin and her fingers wrapped tightly around my cock before her sweet tongue liked the slit and spoke to me, “I always did love me those bad boys.” Her mouth completed the circuit and sucked me hard until I got off and pulled her back up to ravaged her mouth tasting my essence from her. It was hot and if I thought losing my license was bad, I think I could live with it a while longer.
22
Kristen
We’ve been back from Vegas for two weeks now and work has been busy getting ready for the third quester numbers. I’m filling spread sheets and organizing receipts for the dentist in town I do the books for when the door to my shoebox office opens up. I had been hoping my boss would consider expanding the office with all the business we do, but he doesn’t, so I’m left to figure everything out.
“Pebbles.” Demon sits down in the chair across from my desk that barely fits in the room. He’s come from the job but he’s relatively clean and smells like cinnamon sugar doughnuts I love from Carmen’s bakeshop.
My stomach grumbled and I held out my hand, “Hey, pay the troll would ya?”
Damien chuckled and produced a white paper pastry bag. “Yes, my wicked witch.” I open the bag and drag out the doughnut biting into it. It’s so good I could have a food orgasm right there. It’s tempting but my work office is the one place I’m picky about and won’t have sex in. Shocking, right?
I take a pen from the mess of my hair and chew on the end of it asking him, “Can I help you today?”
“Actually, I wanted to make an offer.”
“I’m not a call girl.” I tell him as I type out the balance for the next column.
He chuckles and rests his elbows on his knees. He looked way to good in is dark jeans and red flannel work shirt I’ve come to love. I know how soft it is and how long it rests against my thighs when I steal it from him to wear around his house. Red flannel to me is the equivalent of a grey tie and plenty of kinky fuckery.
“No, I can see you’re not, although, Vegas was fun.”
“Hmm.” I wondered where Damien was going with this. He looked a little nervous and I didn’t feel like teasing him all day when I was bogged down with a deadline of work to do.
Damien cleared his throat in a very uncharacteristic way. “Actually, I was wondering if you might come to work for Hart Construction.”
“Doing what? I nailed you already; I don’t have experience putting up the sheetrock.”
He reaches for my pen cup arranging the pens as he spoke, “Cute, Pebbles. We actually need an accountant.” He puts the cup back down seemingly please he made some kind of pen bouquet with my pens.
“Expanding the business?”
“Hunter and I discussed delegating some of the work so we can take on more jobs and estimate bids.”
“The books are easy; I don’t know why you need me.”
“Because Hunter hates math unless it involves building shit. Don’t ask him to keep the income and expense columns straight. Plus Taylor is bringing over the design part of the business so we have to change some tax liability thing.”
“You mean an LLC or an S-Corp?” I said still not sure how he thought I could help them.
“Yeah, whatever smart thing you just said. It’s an offer. Think about it.” Demon dropped an envelope on my desk exiting my office. The cream colored stationary bore the new Hart Construction logo on it designed by Taylo
r of course and as soon as the door shut leaving me alone I snatched it off my desk tearing it open.
The offer was substantial. More than what I made working here as my boss’ workhorse, but the question was why. A note followed the offer with a reservation at my old stomping grounds for waitressing. The Edelweiss Lodge outside of town.
Pebbles,
Consider our offer and have dinner with us. Hunter and TJ will be there. I’ll pick you up at 7pm.
-Big D
He was insane if he thought I would call him anything other than Demon or Damien, but dinner I could do.
I hadn’t been to the Edelweiss Lodge in ages. Probably since I got fired from the German restaurant for sneaking too many sausages, hand rolled pretzels, and beer on my breaks. The food was fantastic and the service was great, well except for when I worked there because I wasn’t very good at taking orders and running food.
23
Damien
I think about one of the rare times I held Kristen in my arms and we weren’t at each other’s throat spitting like cats. She was looking exceptionally hot and we all met at the diner for dinner after movie group date thing I barely recalled getting dragged out too. Hunter and TJ were inside and I had to grab my hoodie sweatshirt from my truck because Kristen’s skin was peppering with goosebumps in the cool air. She’d deny it until death but I knew better and maybe I was trying to prove something. I purposefully baited her at the table and she followed me outside to tan my ass as I deserved. I pulled her outside and around the truck twirling her hard and cornering her. Our breaths heaved with angst and her breasts pushed up against her low cut top teasing with peach swells that showed the barest hint of her bra’s pink lace. She insulted my manhood and I grabbed her in retaliation to kiss her hard our eyes both bulging out in surprise as she fought me for two seconds before giving in and swaying into my arms. I let my tongue tease her mouth open and taste her sweetness. On a moan coming from both of us as I sneak a feel under her shirt to tweak her nipple when I hear Hunter yelling.
He’s frantic and trying to get his truck open. It’s Taylor, she’s turning a strange color and puffing out like a mini Jabba The Hut. Her voice is hoarse and her date seems out of his element as Hunter scrambles to get her inside yelling that she ate the gumbo with shellfish. Shit. We all knew Taylor was allergic but she didn’t carry an EpiPen so we were rushing her to the hospital. Kristen eyed my still semi-hard dick I couldn’t hide pushing me away going to her best friend’s side as I knew she would. I just didn’t expect her to blame me because she wasn’t there to make sure Taylor didn’t touch the soup she ordered.
Personally if Taylor thought eating soup was going to impress her date, she needed a better date and Hunter needed to figure his shit out if he was going to just sit back and watch it all happen when we all knew good and well how much he loved that girl. God we were stupid kids. Kristen never really forgave me and held a grudge.
24
Kristen
The headache I’m sporting feels a million times worse since I kicked Damien out of my apartment this morning. “Uuuggghhh. Someone kill me now.” I sat down at my kitchen bar, head hanging down my fingers clutching the plastic strip and dark plus sign.
The door knocks and opens to Taylor’s overly cheerful voice. “Helloooo!” I hear her approach. “Oh honey, are you okay?” She’s asking me because of course I looked like a hot mess in my mismatched pajamas and rat nest hair, but this is how it works. I was there for Taylor in her last crisis and now she’s here for mine. No questions asked.
My hand half covered my face and I peeked at her with one waiting for a reaction when I said, “Taylor, I’m pregnant.” I pushed the test in her direction and she picked it up looking it over before quietly placing it back down.
“Shit, I’m gonna need something stronger than coffee especially if you and Damien are bringing little people into the world.”
“Hey! Thanks for the insult.”
“Kristen, I wasn’t insulting you, but I’m worried that there isn’t enough Baileys to solve this problem.”
“So my progeny are a problem?” Taylor sticks her head around the corner frowning and I knew she didn’t mean it harshly, but I had to rein in the red rage of hormones. “You think alcohol is going to solve this?”
She paused and I wondered what she would say next. “Honey… it’s that what got you knocked up in the first place?” I bordered on the verge of tears and moving in to crazy town. Heck, I was already there. “I will love any children you procreate, but I’m worried about the two of you. Babies change things. I mean look at Remi.” Thinking about our cute friend who worked at the bar who was a new single mom did bring it home. Way too close to home and the nausea bubbled up as I gave her directions in the kitchen from my seat in the living room.
“There’s whiskey under the cabinet inside the soup pot.”
“Now you’re hiding alcohol?”
Tired, I answered her. “I didn’t feel like sharing the whiskey until now. I mean a baby is a good excuse to party, right? Wee!” I make a swinging motion with my arm in a mock salutation before the tears overwhelm me.
“Yeah, no more alcohol for you–like ever.” She bent down hunting for my stash.
I sniffled catching the tear that threatened to fall. “Ever?” Of course I’m not going to drink pregnant, I’m not stupid despite what some people might think.
Taylor rushes back, the bottle of whiskey cradled under arm like an infant. “Maybe I should dress it up in a cute onsie?” I say between the falling tears.
Placing the bottle on the counter she hugged me fiercely. “Hey, hey, it’s gonna be okay. I’m here.”
“Yeah but will you hold my hand when we tell my mom? She’s gonna kill me if I’m showing for your wedding.” I had fears of my mother who was undoubtedly strict, proper, very right wing conservative and her thoughts on baby before marriage.
“Well then we’ll just postpone the nuptials until your mini me is old enough to toss rose petals down the aisle.” And that’s exactly what made Taylor the best of best friends.
“Okay, but I’m not going to be the one to break the news to Hunter. I swear your man is chomping at the bit.”
“Oh you let me worry about telling the big bear.” I would never make her postpone her wedding, even if the thought had merit. It was the fact that she selflessly offered to do it that shattered me and cemented our already solid friendship for eternity. I would wear a satin burlap sack in a shade of teal if she asked me.
“I’m holding you too that, Taylor!” Of course I knew, Hunter was more likely to kidnap his bride and marry her on some island if he thought he was going to have to wait longer than the date they already set.
25
Damien
“I see my errant son has returned.” I find him in the garage where my father looked up from his workbench using a knife on one of his hand carvings etching in details. He has a whole menagerie lining the windowsill, some stained and others painted. “Your mother is making dinner, are you staying?” he asked going back to his project. It’s hard to say no when my mother is cooking a whole chicken with dumplings and gravy. It might actually be a law somewhere.
“I’ll stay for dinner.” I sit down on the bench taking in the quiet, the calm that my dad is so good at projecting, something he gave Hunter, but passed by me. The garage is a haven of sorts. There’s an old stop sign we found as kids outside of town we brought home, a random traffic cone and an antique table saw dad refuses to give up on. Hunter and I have since moved the business and the tools we inherited from my father when he turned it over to us to a shed on Hunter’s property which will eventually go over to the new house he’s going to share with TJ.
“You look troubled. This isn’t about money for your ticket is it? Your mother already–” I wasn’t expecting my parents to foot the bill for my stupidity. I got enough lectures from everyone all around.
I interrupted him, “No dad. I got that taken care of.” He grunts a
nd takes another small notch from the wood adding to his pile on the cement flooring.
“This isn’t about a girl? Mom might be better suited–”
“No.” I wasn’t going to talk to my parents about Kristen. It would be all over the local news before sun up tomorrow if I did.
“Hmmph.” I watch his hands carefully craft what I think will be a soaring hawk when he’s done.
I steeled myself to ask the burning question that had been honestly bothering me for the better part of the last decade. “What does Hunter have that I don’t?” My question stopped my father from his work and he stood up placing the bird with the half completed wing on the table.
“Hunter was born into a world of hurt, Damien.” He’s clutching the table looking out the garage window that looks into the kitchen. We can see my mother humming to herself, a cordless house phone tucked between shoulder and ear with a smile.
“Right, we brought him home from Michigan.” I said acknowledging the universal truth.
“My brother could be a real bastard.” I shook my head in agreement. I could only imagine what Hunter experienced, to this day he doesn’t really talk about it and I never asked.
“I shared my room with him for the better part of three years before he shipped out.”
