Abby had expected a response such as that. She channeled her inner Sarah. “So, let me ask you a question,” she said, planning out a strategy in her mind.
“Shoot.”
“What is wrong with wearing something you deem ‘immodest?’ What’s the danger of it?” she began to execute her strategy.
Matt cleared his throat as if he didn’t expect to be getting into a moral debate with his eighteen-year-old daughter. “The Bible says that women should dress modestly and appropriately,” he said. “I can pull out some verses if you’d like.”
“Well, I’m not a Christian, so ‘what the Bible says’ doesn’t really apply to me.”
“I thought we were talking about Emma,” Matt argued. “Besides, you asked what the danger was, and that applies to all girls and women, regardless of your religious affiliation.”
“And what’s that? What would have happened to Emma if she would have worn that short skirt and leggings today?”
“She might have caused some men to have impure thoughts,” he explained. “She might have been objectified.”
Abby looked at the floor, studying the flecks of dark fibers in the berber carpet. This was the line of thinking she expected. She’d had a conversation with her mother about his once, about how Christians thought women needed to “protect” men from having lustful thoughts about them. As if women could or should be responsible for anyone else’s thoughts about them.
“Did you hear what you said?” Abby asked him. “How can Emma be responsible for what some dude thinks when he looks at her? What if she wore jeans and a sweater and some guy has a raging jeans and sweater fetish? Is that her fault too?”
He shook his head and closed the book that was still lying open in his lap. It seemed like a metaphor for him being finished with the conversation. “I’m really tired tonight, Abigail. I don’t feel like arguing against the ultra-liberal crap you get from your mother.”
“Fine,” Abby conceded. “But that’s not really why I came in here. I’m really more concerned about Bobbi. I don’t think it’s any of her business how I or my sisters dress. She’s not our mother. She’s not even our step-mother.”
Matt nodded. “Fine, you’re right. I’ll have a talk with her about it, okay?”
“Thank you,” Abby replied, more curtly than she intended, but her mission was more or less accomplished. She triumphantly tiptoed back down the hallway to the guest room she used when she stayed over. She felt like her mother would have been very proud of the way she stood her ground.
***
James practically shoved Sarah out of the house when Rachel suggested they go have a girls’ day at the spa. “I know he’s tired of me sulking and moping around all the time,” Sarah sighed as she and her best friend headed to Bethesda. “I have to get back to normal though because school starts again next week. And those classes aren’t going to teach themselves.”
“Sarah, you’re healing. You should take as much time as you need,” Rachel suggested in a rare serious moment.
“I just feel so ridiculous. The tiniest thing reminds me and sets me off again,” she said, her eyes looking over the menu of services, one of which was pre-natal massage. She tapped her fingernail next to the description. “See? Reminders are everywhere.”
After their massages and facials, the pair headed to a café for lunch. They ordered soup and sandwiches and slipped into a booth in the back of the restaurant. They’d dined together enough times to know that the more privacy the better. Their list of past lunch conversations included spirited discussions of swinging, genital piercing, masturbation, fisting, anal sex and tried-and-true fellatio techniques. Sometimes their discussions could be a little off-putting to anyone accidentally caught in the cross-fire.
“It feels good to be out and about,” Sarah said, slurping some of her vegetable soup off the spoon.
“Tell me about it. Jack is driving me absolutely crazy,” Rachel agreed.
“Really? Why’s that?”
Rachel placed her spoon back on the edge of her plate. “I haven’t really mentioned it to you because I know you’ve been dealing with your own shit. I didn’t want to burden you with anything else.”
The color drained from Sarah’s face. She hated to think that her depressive episode came at the expense of others, but judging from James’s reaction to getting her out of the house, she couldn’t deny that it had. Plus there was the fact that Owen now wanted to go live with his father. “What’s going on?” she asked Rachel.
She sighed as she ran her fingers through her spiky blonde hair. “Where to start…hmmm…” She laughed for a second before becoming serious again, the laugh lines turning to worry lines. “Remember a long time ago when I told you that Jack was having some sexual issues?”
Sarah nodded. She remembered citing some studies about porn viewing. “Still with the porn?”
Rachel nodded. “It’s gotten worse. He tells me that he’s not doing it anymore, but then I’ll find out he downloaded it on his phone or I’ll see it in his search history on the computer – and yes, I check it from time to time, more because of Thomas. I had to confront Jack because I wanted to make sure Thomas wasn’t watching that shit!”
“And it’s negatively impacting you in bed?”
“Unfortunately. I mean I wouldn’t care if he wanted to watch porn if I was getting fucked adequately. Hell, I like watching porn too every once in a while. You know how I feel about my guy-on-guy stuff,” she smirked. “But either he hardly ever wants to fuck, or he has issues getting it up or getting off. And he has even had problems when we’re swinging, although I kinda put a moratorium on that until we get this worked out.”
“It’s like he’s cheating on you virtually,” Sarah observed. “That sucks.”
“Tell me about it.” She resumed nibbling on her sandwich and then put it down again when she felt a tirade coming on. “I know I haven’t lost all the baby weight from Amethyst. So I don’t look like a porn star by any stretch of the imagination. I’m feeling bad enough about myself without having to be compared to those fake silicone-injected bimbos all the time. I never had a self-image problem until this.”
Sarah shot her a warning look as the woman in the booth across the aisle looked as though she was going to have a heart attack. “Have you asked him about therapy?” she inquired in a volume slightly above a whisper.
“He doesn’t want to go. He’s embarrassed.”
“Well, embarrassment is actually not a bad sign. It’s better than denial. At least it means he admits to having a problem. I have a colleague in private practice in Baltimore that might be a good fit for you guys to see. She’s lifestyle friendly. I interviewed her for my book as she’s done a lot of work with the college-aged crowd. She even works with surrogates. Very open minded. Let me know if you want her number.”
“I just don’t know, Sarah. It’s not like I thought it would be. He’s gone all the time and when he’s home we fight. And I’m sure as hell not getting laid. I could handle one of those situations, but not all three together. I told him if he keeps watching porn that I’m going to get a fuck buddy. I mean all those porn stars are like virtual fuck buddies, right? I need some cock, dammit!”
“I wish you would have told me this was going on,” Sarah said. “I know it’s been a rough few weeks for me but I’m always there for you no matter what. You know that, right?”
“Of course,” Rachel answered. “And likewise. I’ll take your friend’s number and talk to Jack again about getting help. But if he is still unwilling, I’m really wondering if we shouldn’t try a temporary separation.”
“I really hope it doesn’t come to that.” She remembered how sincere and committed the bride and groom were the day they exchanged wedding vows in Garden of the Gods, surrounded by the rusty red rock formations, the brilliant blue skies and Pike’s Peak in the distance. It was sad to think the strength and unity the couple shared then might be fading.
“Me too,” Rachel sighed. “How
are things with you and James?”
Sarah reacted with a cross between a smirk and a shrug. “Thanks have been a little strained since the….miscarriage. We went to meet with Dr. Kapoor and James basically acted like we were going to try IVF again in a few months without even consulting me. And at this point…I mean I guess we will, but it would have been nice to be consulted. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a baby oven to him.”
“Wow, that does not sound good,” Rachel replied.
“No. And we haven’t had sex yet either even though we got cleared to last week at the appointment.”
“So we’ve both been celibate,” Rachel observed. “That can’t be good.”
“No, no good can come from that, can it?” Sarah laughed.
“Maybe we need to find an unsuspecting but ridiculously hot twenty-something cop or firefighter and rock his world?” she suggested.
“Oh, god. I can hardly say yes because you probably have a candidate on speed dial!”
She whipped out her phone and began to scroll through her contacts. “Multiple candidates, in fact!”
***
"Did you hear anything else from your ex-girlfriend?" Mia asked as she was coming out of the shower. She bent over so that her face was parallel to the floor and wrapped the towel around her head, leaving her naked body glistening with water droplets. Her nipples were hard and brown in the chilly January air.
Abby found herself distracted by her girlfriend’s ample curves. She noticed that Mia's stomach looked a bit softer and rounder. Holiday weight, she surmised.
Abby herself had gained nearly ten pounds since starting school in August and had definitely filled out her once wiry frame. She could see the extra flesh in her breasts, hips and bottom. Guess I'm well on my way to the Freshman Fifteen, she thought. Mia and I will be fat and
happy together. Nothing wrong with that.
“Abby, stop staring at my tits and answer the question," Mia chided her with one eyebrow raised. She used a different towel to dry her limbs and then slipped into yoga pants and a sweatshirt. It was the last weekend before spring classes started and they both intended to spend it in relaxation mode.
"No, I think she pretty much got the hint, thanks to your efforts!" Abby replied. She watched Mia examine herself in the full length mirror. She pulled the towel
off her head and ran her fingers through her wet hair. She prodded at approximately an inch of roots that were lighter than the rest of her black hair. Her natural color was a dark brown.
"What do you think I should do with my hair?" Mia asked. She sucked in her stomach and her cheeks and struck a pose. "Are you tired of me looking like a goth chick? Do I need to start looking like a respectable adult before I meet your dad?"
"Don't be silly. I don't care what my dad thinks of you. I like the black and blue hair, but it might be cool to see you with your natural color someday."
"Oh, it's so boring. What about all the piercings and tattoos? Will he think I'm a loser or what?" She turned herself to examine the ink that ran from her left shoulder all the way down her ribcage. It was a vine with lilies and tiny, colorful hummingbirds. She had a magnolia blossom to signify her southern roots between her right breast and her collarbone. And trailing down her forearm was a design with paisleys and hearts. And of course, there were the tiny stars along her neck which minted her nickname Star Tattoo.
Abby smiled. "I love you just the way you are."
"Do you think I'm getting too fat?" she suddenly shifted, turning now to a profile view in which she alternatively sucked in and pushed out her gut. "I'm getting a pooch on me!" She frowned, then turned to Abby for input.
"Like I said, I love you just the way you are."
"So when will I get to meet your dad and sisters?" she asked. She sat down on the bed across from Abby, awaiting her answer with her nearly black eyes. It was rare that Abby saw Mia without her usual thick eyeliner and mascara. There was something very wholesome about her face once scrubbed of all the paint. It reminded Abby of that scene in The Breakfast Club when Allison gets made over by Claire and goes from looking emo and dark to looking light and feminine. My mom would be so proud of me making that reference, Abby mused. She loves that movie!
"I don't really know," Abby confessed. "They don't know...about us...about me...yet."
"Why not?"
Abby shook her head. "You know I've only known my birth father for a couple of years, right? Well, he's super religious and his girlfriend is a homophobe and, well, I'm sort of afraid if I come out to them, then I might be disowned and never see my sisters again."
"Fuck," Mia blurted out. "That really sucks."
"I know." Abby pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. "I want to tell them. I'm just waiting for the right time. My sisters need me right now. That woman my dad is seeing is like Cinderella's wicked step-mother. God forbid anything happen to him!"
"We should devise a plan to break them up," Mia schemed. Her inky eyes went from innocent to devious in a split second.
"Oh, don't be ridiculous," Abby laughed, playfully slapping Mia on the thigh. "I'm sure he'll come to his senses soon enough."
"Alright, alright," Mia conceded. "Let me know if you change your mind, though… I have my ways!"
***
Sarah laid face-down on the bed with the sheets loosely billowing out around her round, shapely bottom. James stroked his fingertips up and down her skin close to her spine, and then radiating out toward her sides. She felt herself slipping into a near-trance state under his magical touch. Every so often she would murmur softly as he hit a sensitive spot.
After she was relaxed, he pulled the sheet down to expose her ass, and then he began to stroke it as well, all the way down her thighs, almost to her knees. Then he straddled her hips and began to deeply massage her shoulders and the knots that had hardened under her scapula, attempting to melt away all the tension she had accumulated in the prior weeks.
"This massage is even better than the one I got at the spa when I went with Rachel," she cooed.
"That's because it's done with love," James answered. She couldn't see his trademark smirk, but she visualized it accompanying his icy blue eyes as they bore into her backside.
Love or lust? she wanted to ask because when he shifted forward, she felt his erection straining against one half of her fleshy posterior hemispheres. It pressed into her insistently as if to say: remember me? Sarah felt guilty for not having satisfied her husband's needs during her time of mourning. He'd been a really good sport about it. I don't think I've gone this long without sex since I was married to Daniel, she reflected as James began to ease up on his massage. The easing up came along with an attempt to slide his cock into the cleft between her ass cheeks. Sarah flinched.
James sighed. He rolled off her and back onto the bed so that he faced away from her. "Sorry," he said with defeat.
"I just don't know if I'm ready yet," she answered, half in her voice and half in a whisper.
He rolled over to face her. She saw lines etched into the skin around his eyes, which seemed heavy-lidded and tired. He looked as though he'd aged five years just in the past month. And I probably have too, she thought, although she'd been too afraid to get very close to a mirror. Some days she felt like merely a ghost of herself. Her eyes were hollow, skin so pale it was nearly translucent. And now that the pregnancy hormones were dissipating, her hair was falling out in clumps. Her consistent meal-skipping was partially to blame for that as well.
He let out a sound, somewhere between a sigh and a groan, but the intent was clearly to convey his disappointment. He laid back on the bed, his arms behind his head, his body completely exposed and vulnerable. For the first time in a long time, Sarah looked at him. Really looked at him.
When you’re part of a couple, you get so caught up in the day-to-day bullshit that you forget what your husband really looks like, she thought. He’s become so much more to me than a sex partner. He’s my friend, confidante, my sho
ulder to lean on, lawn care and automotive specialist, finance-contributor, occasional laundry sorter, co-parent, co-dreamer, co-household manager and all around co-conspirator. He has so many faces and wears so many hats that I have forgotten the very first, primal thing that attracted me to him. Her eyes trailed over his naked body stretched across the bed, the bulging biceps, the taut skin stretched across his chest muscles. She examined his square jaw, the way his lips curved and the tiny bristles of hairs beginning to protrude along both. She studied the arch of his thick eyebrows and the way his eyelashes looked resting against his cheeks.
Somewhere along the line, she had lost sight of what a sexy, handsome man James McAllister was. Nearly four years after she’d initially met him, he was coming into his own. The boyish charm he’d displayed the night they’d first met was gradually fading, but it was being replaced by the confidence and swagger of a man in his thirties who is solidly in his prime. Now he was assertive, capable, and experienced. And he was well on his way toward becoming distinguished.
Thinking about how his body had affected her in the early days of their courtship, she traced the outline of his chest muscles with her fingertip. She saw him immediately begin to respond to her touch. His nipples hardened and his cock began to stiffen as well, rising like a flag to half-mast. She bent down and gently kissed his nipple, loving the way it felt against her lips. She felt something else that she hadn’t experienced in a long time: an urge beginning to swell inside her like a fire that grows from a glowing ember to a moving sculpture of intertwining flames.
She swung her leg over his hip, mounting him like she might a horse. In one fell swoop, his cock sprung to full attention, no longer half-mast but a flag waving proudly against the wind. She leaned forward and grasped it with her fingers, gently brushing it up and down between the lips of her sex. James groaned at the feel of her wetness dripping onto the tip of his manhood. It only made him throb and swell that much more.
The Mountains Trilogy (Boxed Set) Page 83
