by Joey Bush
“Shall we?” Drew asked me, placing a tender hand at the base of my back.
I nodded, turning back around. We walked toward the elevator in the foyer, and rushed to the top of the building, where I knew Mel and her husband had the entire top floor. I tucked myself close to Drew, feeling a bit afraid of the evening ahead. Would Mel approve of this man? Would she chide me for bringing home such a player, such a man who would surely ruin my life, my mentality?
Deep in my heart, I knew nothing mattered anyway. I would probably have to rush back home, to Indianapolis, and admit that I had messed up my life, that I didn’t have what it took to remain. I knew this would happen. So I decided to enjoy my time, no matter what.
We walked toward her large door after the great elevator doors opened before us. “Now. This wouldn’t be too bad,” Drew laughed as we looked at the automatic grandeur of their foyer. A large painting hung on the wall; a beautiful rug swooped along the floor. “I should look into a place like this.”
“I thought you wanted to live in Wicker Park?” I asked him, my eyes flashing. In my head, nothing was better than Wicker Park. Nothing.
“I do, of course. But later. Wouldn’t it be nice to live by the lake?” He wrapped me in an embrace, there in front of the door. I felt, again, like we were a part of something bigger—something stronger.
Finally, I struck my finger against the doorbell and waited. On the other side of the thick door, I could hear a baby crying; I could hear a woman—Mel?—calling to the baby. “It’s okay! It’s okay!”
Drew and I exchanged glances, both of us at once happy that we hadn’t had children yet—that we hadn’t reached this state of apparent “bliss” that included screaming and baby poop.
Finally, Mel appeared on the other side of the door, baby Jackson strewn across her left shoulder. “Darling,” Mel said, leaning toward me. I grabbed her in a big hug and placed my lips on baby Jackson’s head.
“Is he all right? He’s crying?” I whispered with great emotion. I was never sure how to be around babies.
“Oh, he’s fine. He just was hungry. But we’re taking care of it.” Mel grinned, showing all of her wide, white teeth. “And you’ve brought a friend?” Suddenly, I watched Mel’s jaw drop. I assumed, in that moment, that she thought he was so gorgeous, so perfect, perhaps too perfect for me. But instead, she screamed into the hallway; “ANDREW?”
My eyebrows arched over my eyes. “What?”
But Drew, beside me, had wrapped Mel into a broad hug, as if they had known each other all their lives. I looked from head to head, at the way their eyes closed as they embraced.
“Oh, god. It’s been years!” Mel cried. “Hank! It’s Andrew!”
“New York Andrew?” This was the voice from the other room. Hank, Mel’s husband, turned the corner and approached them, a bit of pasta sauce on his shirt. He shook his head, reaching his hand out to Drew. “God, buddy. It’s good to see you again. You been in the city long?”
Finally, Drew spoke. “Just a few weeks, actually. I was meaning to call you both. God. I did NOT think this was where we were coming. I thought you guys still lived in Old Town.”
Hank shook his head. He placed his hand across the back of his neck. “Nope. Nope. We moved here a bit before the baby was born.”
“That’s right. You know, my mom mentioned you had a baby. But I didn’t know he was this adorable. Or small.”
Mel leaned across and handed baby Jackson to Drew. My eyes were wide as I watched the interaction take place. “What’s going on?” I finally sputtered. Everyone seemed to know each other so well. “How do you guys know each other?” I tried to calm my face down. I felt, suddenly, like I was the stranger in the room—like I should be the one to leave to let everyone catch up.
Drew turned toward me, bobbing Jackson like a natural pro in his left hand. “Oh, gosh. Molly. I didn’t know we were coming to see Melanie.”
“And I didn’t know you were bringing Andrew over!” Mel called out, clapping her hands together. Her eyes were bright, happy. She didn’t look like the normally tired, aging ballerina she normally did. “Andrew’s my nephew.”
I looked from Mel to Drew and back. “Nephew?” I asked. Drew was clearly many years older than Mel. I knew he was thirty-three, and Mel was only twenty-eight.
But Mel just waved her hand in the air. “You know. My mother had me like—what? Twenty-two years after she had your dad, my brother?” She turned back toward me. “Anyway. My brother had already had this little guy over here by the time I was born. We grew up together, him and me.”
“I went to see you perform so many times at Loyola. You were the perfect prima ballerina. I can’t believe this.” Drew was shaking his head, peering down at the small baby in his arms. “What a wonderful thing. I heard you were a dance instructor these days, keeping the dance in the family?”
And because Mel hadn’t been trained, because she didn’t know, she casually spouted these words, giving away my entire cultivation; “Oh, yes. I’m just Molly’s assistant at Molly Says Dance. You know, she’s a marvelous dancer.”
Drew’s eyes were suddenly on me. He looked at me earnestly, still bobbing the baby. “I see. I didn’t know you were a dancer.”
I nodded, feeling naked. I swallowed slowly.
But it didn’t seem to matter. Not then. This was suddenly a family gathering. Hank rushed us into the dining room, where he had set out a giant platter of spinach lasagna. He picked Jackson up out of Drew’s arms and swept him to the back nursery.
“He’s getting so big,” Drew offered to Mel. I felt strange, thinking I should have said these words to her, instead.
“Oh, gosh. It’s going too fast. But now that I don’t have work these days, I’ve been able to catch every little thing he does. He actually tried to crawl the other day, can you believe it?”
We all sat down at the table. Hank and Mel sat on opposite sides of the table, and Drew and I also sat across from each other. Hank passed around the rolls, then the lasagna. The cheese swept from the platter to my plate easily. I looked toward Mel, feeling I should speak. “This looks delicious, Mel.”
Mel nodded. Her eyes were brimming. “I can’t believe this guy—this Drew fellow you told me about—is our Andrew! My nephew! Can you believe it?”
“There’s a lot I can’t believe,” I murmured, stabbing my fork into the lasagna before me.
“So. What brings you to Chicago?” Hank asked Drew.
“I’m opening a bookstore here. I’ll still own the New York ones, of course. But this new one is my next project. I wanted to come back to my hometown. Be with family. Like you folks.” Drew held his hands on his chest. “Molly. Can I pour you some wine?”
Something in my head was buzzing. I nodded. “Of course. I’d love some wine.”
“Molly doesn’t turn down wine. She’s a smart girl,” Mel said, winking at me. My face burned for a moment.
Drew walked around the table, pouring everyone glasses of wine. I watched as Hank’s chubby face grinned up at Drew, his relative. I felt so strange. The entire dinner was feeling like an out-of-body experience.
“So. Andrew. Mel was actually telling me just last week that you’ve been wrapped up in a bit of charity work these days?” Hank stabbed some cheese lasagna into his mouth and looked at Drew with beady eyes.
Drew cleared his throat. Charity work? I wondered. He hadn’t mentioned anything like this. Here, I had thought he was so typical, just trying to peg me into a notch on his belt before moving onto another lady, anyone else.
“Right. Well, in New York, I was very much involved in Habitat for Humanity, some homeless shelters. That sort of thing. In Chicago, I’ve been looking into that, as well. I want to do good things with my money.”
Mel nodded at him, completely soaking up everything he said. My heart was beating wildly in my chest.
“Also. I want to donate to the school systems here. This was where I grew up, you know. And I got a good education. But I think—I
think the way the school system is now, it doesn’t give children a good chance to move up in the world. I actually sat down with the school board of Chicago this past week, and we worked out a payment structure—how much they need, all that.”
“I certainly feel a lot better about sending Jack to school here, knowing there are people out there looking out for him and his peers,” Hank said. Mel, on my other side, nodded her head. I noticed she was nearly in tears.
“Andrew. You were always so kind-hearted.”
“Well. Being kind-hearted only goes so far,” Drew murmured, placing his fork and knife down beside his plate. “Now, I have the good fortune to go with it.”
Mel turned toward me. I could read the expression in her eyes so clearly. She wanted me to ask Drew—in that moment!—if he would lend me money to help me buy back the dance studio. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.
As if on cue, Drew asked us about it then; “So. How’s the dance studio? Are you guys in an off-season, now? Melanie, you said you weren’t working lately? And Molly—do you do that alongside the PR work?”
I sputtered for a moment before answering. I noted that Mel had busied herself with her lasagna, not wanting to answer. Drew’s eyes were unwavering, so assertive, so kind. “You know. Yes. The dance studio is just taking a hiatus right now. We had a—a show recently. And so. I’m giving the girls a break.”
“I see. And you’re focusing on the PR stuff now?” Drew took another bite from his lasagna.
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I mean. Dance is my real passion; it’s what I went to school for. Butler University.”
“A renowned dance program,” Drew murmured, nodding. It didn’t seem like he cared even a little bit that I was a dancer; it didn’t seem like he thought it was strange or dirty. After all, I supposed he had grown up with Mel—who had made dance her life in the years before she had met this raucous Hank sitting next to me.
“Right. Yeah. But. I didn’t make it. Not quite.”
Drew leaned his hand across the table and touched my hand. “Darling, don’t think that way. You are doing so well, teaching other children the art of dance. I think that’s wonderful work.”
I looked up at him, then, realizing the complete undercurrent of his heart, the complete good-natured way he looked at me. Had I completely misjudged him? Did I not really understand who this man was?
We ate our lasagna and drank our wine in general good humor after that, telling jokes and discussing anything and everything. I even laughed at a few of Hank’s jokes. I noted how happy Mel was in her life, with her husband and her baby, and I started to resent this life of hers more and more. She had never truly told me she was unhappy; maybe this was what she wanted, after all?
After several hours, Drew and I decided to take our departure. I kissed Mel on both cheeks, and we exchanged knowing looks. She knew how much I cared about this person—this person I had more or less called a sex god before I knew that Mel had actually grown up with him (and probably didn’t want to know about his sexual prowess).
Drew wrapped his arms around both Mel and Hank, thanking them joyously for having us to their home. “Molly and I appreciate it so much,” he said. He spoke of us like we were a couple, like we were together. My heart burned with the joy of it.
“And tell little Jackson good night for us,” Drew whispered before we left, as the door opened and sent us into the exterior foyer. “He’s more beautiful than I can say.”
CHAPTER SIX
Drew and I scurried down to the Porsche, laughing about everything that had just occurred. I was giggling so zealously in the elevator that I lost my breath. “What the hell kind of coincidence is that?” I asked him, shaking my head. “I met you in a coffee shop. And now—turns out you grew up with my best friend?”
“She’s my aunt,” Drew said, laughing along with me. He shook his head. “I mean. I didn’t know anything about your dancing background. Maybe I would have sensed something—some connection when you spoke about her. But I have to say. That was one of the bigger shocks of my life. And I’ve been shocked before.” He winked at me, then, and took my hand in the elevator, planting a great, extravagant kiss atop my lips. I felt the earnest pull in my pussy. I wanted him.
Drew pushed me up against the elevator wall and pushed the small bit of dark green lace down over my breasts, bringing them out bouncing into the world. I sighed, as he wrapped his thumb and forefinger over my nipple. He looked at me with intense eyes. “I’m going to make you come so hard later,” he murmured.
I nearly churned with passion, with drive to make love to him.
We grabbed hands and started rushing toward the Porsche in the garage. He pulled the car door open for me, and I flung myself in the driver’s side, just waiting for him. “Come. Come,” I whispered as he rushed around to the driver’s seat.
Finally, we were rushing south on Lake Shore Drive, past the spewing lake and the whizzing cars. I wanted him so bad. He was such a gentleman, using his money for the good of the world, supporting Mel and I in our dance career. My head was spinning. He was a good person; a good guy.
I reached across the seats and began unbuckling his belt.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered to me.
I unbuckled and then unzipped his pants, revealing his enormous, pulsing dick. I wondered how long he had had a hard on—if we had been sitting there, horny for each other in the dining room of Mel’s house for hours. I knew I had been.
“I want you so bad,” I whispered. I felt my eyes grow hot. I wanted him inside me; I wanted to feel his dick in me. I started rubbing his dick with my hand. He moaned, trying to keep his eyes on the road.
“Yeah, baby,” I called to him. “Yeah.” He reached over his seat and grabbed at my wet, dripping pussy with his full hand. I gasped, nearly coming all at once in that moment.
We were nearing our apartments. His dick was so hard in my hand. He parked the car swiftly, just outside of the apartment building, and hurriedly put himself back in his pants. He rushed around to my side of the car to pull me out onto the sidewalk and kiss me passionately, grabbing my ass with his strong fingers in the September darkness. “God. You make me want to fuck you,” he said, his eyes wet, looking only at me.
Finally, we turned toward our apartment building and rushed up the steps on a mission. We pounded down the hallway toward his apartment. “Marty’s not home,” he whispered and shoved the door open, allowing me to enter.
His apartment was dark, smelling vaguely of beer and whiskey. After he closed the door, he grabbed me and picked me up, taking me directly to the table in the kitchen. He placed me there and reached beneath my dress, tugging my panties down my long, slim legs. I felt my pussy come free; it was wet and hot between my legs.
He flung my panties across the room before beginning to unbutton my dress, revealing my supple breasts and tight stomach. I sat before him, gleaming and naked on the table, my breasts bouncing a bit with each heaving breath. “Baby. Fuck me,” I said.
But he wasn’t ready, and I was nearly gasping for breath. He knelt before me and placed his lips between my legs, beginning to play with my clit, my pussy with his tongue. He knew what he was doing, and I began to feel so hot, so steamy on my chest, on my thighs as he fucked me with his tongue.
“Oh, god,” I heaved. I felt like I was being too loud, but I didn’t care. I wanted to scream my lust into the night.
Finally, he made me come, his tongue strapped between my legs in my hot, steaming pussy. I grabbed his head and brought him up to my lips, and we kissed deeply. He grabbed my breasts and twisted at the nipples. I unbuckled his belt once more, tossing his pants to the ground. He removed his boxers, his shirt, and stood before me; a tall, naked, stunning man. He pushed my head back and pulsed his enormous dick inside of me. I could feel it deep in my body, and I screamed into the night. He grabbed at my breasts as he pushed himself into me; pumping over and over again. I wrapped my legs around his body, forcing him closer, deeper inside of me. His
eyes were dipping back inside his head; his pleasure was enormous.
After a few moments, I pushed him back and lifted myself up, bringing him with me toward the living room. I knelt over a chair looking out over the churning city before me as he pushed inside my pussy from behind. He reached around and began playing with my pussy, bringing me pleasure from both areas. He sighed over me, and I could feel the heat of his body as he pushed into me. “God,” I murmured, feeling him so heavy. I looked out over the great city, imagining who else was fucking, who else had such great passion—such brilliant manners in the bedroom.
After several more minutes, Drew gave out a large, long cry, jerking violently with the pleasure. He pulled back, removing his dick from my pussy, and I spun toward him, kissing him passionately. I wasn’t done. I couldn’t be done. I led him into the shower and turned on the heat. I stepped in as he eyed me in the water, playing with my hair, with my breasts. He sat on the toilet, breathing heavily, resting, until my body became too much for him.
He stepped into the shower, shocked at the warmth of the water. He pushed me up against the side of the shower and began kissing me, wrapping his tongue around mine. “Yeah, baby. I can’t resist your body. You have a perfect body,” he kept saying, over and over. “Come on. Let’s fuck again. Please, baby.”
And finally, I wrapped my legs around him and allowed his dick back in my dripping pussy. I felt him deep inside me once more, and my scream echoed throughout the bathroom as the water rushed over us.
Sometime around three in the morning, after multiple orgasms, multiple positions, Drew and I collapsed in each other’s arms in his bedroom, completely naked. I loved the way his body felt as we drifted off to sleep. I loved the way he grasped my back, my body, as if I belonged to him; as if I were truly his. I felt in those moments like we were a pair, like nothing could come between us.
