by Julia Wolf
He smiled. “You’re really unexpected.”
“I like to keep you on your toes,” I replied, returning his grin.
I was so hungry my stomach had started eating itself, so I quickly inhaled my chicken burger and sweet potato fries. I took a swig of beer and let my head flop back against the couch.
“Sooo good!”
I called out, “Laurel, that was delicious!” After a moment she stuck her head out of her room.
“Yay! I was worried it would be too spicy. It tasted okay?”
Before I could reply, James said, “It was perfect. Thank you so much for letting me try your delicious cooking.”
Laurel preened. “Oh you,” she said, waving a hand at him. “You’re welcome to come for dinner anytime. I’ve always wanted to cook for a big hungry man like you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Laurel!”
She covered her mouth with her hands. “Sorry! I’ll just go back to my room now.” She went back in and shut the door behind herself.
James chuckled. “She’s funny.”
“She is,” I agreed. I turned my body so I faced him. He was a feast for the eyes. From his legs that stretched out for miles, all the way up to the beard I’d been obsessed with since the moment I saw him, to his soft lips and his curious, warm eyes. I didn’t think I’d ever get my fill of looking at him.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I asked.
“Sure.”
I stood up and held out my hands. He gripped one and unfolded his long body from the floor.
“Only trick is we have to go to my room. Netflix isn’t working on this TV.” I didn’t say it, but I wanted him there, in my room, on my bed.
“Okay, I’ll go wherever you want me,” James said.
“That’s a dangerous promise,” I said back with a wink.
In my room I flopped on my queen-sized bed then noticed James still hovering in the doorway, glancing around the small space.
My walls were a grayish purple, my fluffy bedding bright white. The wrought iron bed was my favorite thing in the room. I’d found the antique frame at a shop on Main Street near my salon. I felt so grown-up when I bought it; before that my furniture consisted of hand-me-downs and Craigslist finds.
Everything was clean and tidy, bordering on sterile. The only picture on the wall was a black and white silhouette of me leaping through the air on a beach in Spain. One of the other dancers from the company took it all those years ago. A few of us were watching the sunset when we started fooling around, dancing where the waves met the shore. The stars aligned and right as I was in the highest part of my leap, my friend snapped the picture. It was probably vain as hell to have a framed picture of myself on my wall, but I thought it was beautiful and that day had been one of my happiest.
“Where should I sit?” James asked with a furrowed brow.
“Get over here.” I gestured to the expanse of bed next to me.
The universe was kind, but apparently not without a sense of humor because James was in my bed, but not at all in the way I’d hoped for.
As he settled in, I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I loved the way he made the bed dip under his weight. I pressed my thighs together when a whiff of orange spice drifted my way as he shifted. And his T-shirt stretched across his broad chest as he adjusted the pillows behind him.
James glanced at me. “You okay?”
After the most sensual haircut I’d ever given, I’d been left frustrated but turned on. Having him in my bed taking up so much room was almost too much to bear. I shifted around, unable to stay still. I felt wetness between my thighs when I rubbed them together.
I took a long, deep breath through my nose and exhaled slowly through my mouth. James was sprawled out with his upper body propped up on a pile of my pillows and his arms behind his head. I wanted to push up his T-shirt and lick a line straight up his belly.
I gestured at him with my hands. “This is too much!” I cried in frustration.
“What’s too much?”
“You, with your delicious-smelling beard and sweet smile and big body in my bed. I’m so turned on right now I can’t think straight.”
He turned over on his side to look at me. “You’re turned on?”
I nodded.
“Are you wet?”
I bit my lip, shocked at his directness.
“Are you?” he asked.
I nodded again. “Drenched.”
“Show me,” he rumbled.
I sucked in a ragged breath. “Show you?”
He met my heated gaze. “I want to see. Will you show me, Frannie?”
I stood up next to the bed, never taking my eyes off him, and slowly unbuttoned my jeans, pushing them down my hips. When my pants were off, I stood up straight and touched the soaked front of my pink cotton underwear.
James growled at the sight.
I climbed back on the bed on my knees and looked down at him, then I pulled my T-shirt over my head, leaving me in my bra and underwear.
He eyed me hungrily.
“Can I show you what I do when I’m this turned on? How I touch myself?”
He nodded, watching my every move.
I pushed my underwear off and sat back against the pillows. Slowly, I spread my legs and slid my hand down my belly. My eyes stayed on James as I lightly ran two fingers along my center. I moaned from the contact.
James’ eyes were laser focused on my fingers, while I showed him how I liked to be touched. I parted my inner folds, my fingers sliding through the wetness.
“I like your eyes on me, James,” I panted. His gaze was so intense, it was almost tangible; I felt it skimming along my body.
I teased my opening with a fingertip, barely entering, swirling it around and around just inside. Then I plunged my fingers in and used the heel of my hand to rub against my clit. I gasped with relief, pleasure, madness.
My other hand flew to my bra, pushing the cup down so I could pinch and twist my aching nipple.
“Jesus, Frannie,” groaned James. Tearing my eyes from his face, I followed the movement of his arm to see he was rubbing the front of his pants with the palm of his hand. He was rock-hard.
“Take your dick out, James. Let me see it.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a beat, then unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his hips until his hard shaft fell free and heavy on his belly.
I licked my lips. “Let me see how you touch yourself.”
My fingers finally moved to my swollen clit, circling it as he slowly rubbed his erection. He thrust into his hand and I mirrored his movements, thrusting against mine.
I was so far gone, so close to the edge it only took a few swirls with my fingers to send me free falling. I cried out “James” as my orgasm overtook me, curling my toes and sending electric shockwaves through my muscles. He grunted and never stopped pumping into his moving hand as I came all over mine.
He looked close to the edge I’d just fallen from, his movements and breathing becoming more erratic, so before I even came down from my orgasm, I nudged his hand aside and took over. I slid my hand, wet from my own arousal, up and down his hard length. Lying on my side with my head propped up on my hand, I worked him, gripping the silky skin of his shaft firmly.
“Frannie,” he groaned. He panted, thrusting fast into my hand. Then he threw his head back and almost growled as he came in wave after wave on his stomach.
When he stopped pulsating, I flopped on my back, both of us panting from our powerful orgasms. I looked over at him, and with his pants around his hips and his shirt pushed up a bit on his stomach, he was almost fully dressed. On the other hand, the only article of clothing I had on was a bra, and even then, only one of my tits was covered.
I couldn’t help it. I started giggling. James jerked his head in my direction and a low rumble of a laugh snuck out of him. I handed him a few tissues and laughed some more.
“Why are we laughing?” he asked.
I pressed my lips together, but the
laughter bubbled out of me of its own volition.
“I don’t know!” I cried, wiping the tears off my cheeks.
When I finally calmed down and James had cleaned himself up, our gazes met, and we smiled at each other. Our bodies were separated, but my hand rested in his.
“That was a surprise…” he said.
I wiggled my eyebrows. “That’s how I like it: sneak attack mutual masturbation.”
His eyes moved over the length of my body. “You’re pretty naked there, Frannie.”
I looked down too. “You’re right!” I reached over and patted his chest. “You’re really dressed.”
“Nothing with you is how I thought it would be,” he said softly.
His sweet voice sent a shiver down my body. We were dangerously close to snuggling and it made me panicky. Not because it made my skin crawl, or I was searching for an exit like I had in the past, but because I wasn’t doing those things. Lying with James in my bed, holding hands and laughing with him was almost too comfortable.
Letting go of his hand, I hopped out of bed. I felt his eyes on me while I put on lounge pants and a tank top.
He was standing up when I turned around, the mirth gone from his face.
I walked to the door and said over my shoulder, “I want some ice cream!”
He followed me, but instead of going to the kitchen, he headed for the front door.
“You don’t have to go.”
He stood with one hand on the knob, rubbing the back of his neck with the other. “I think I should.”
I went to him and put my feet on top of his. A second ago, I’d panicked, needing to distance myself from the intimacy of the moment. But now, seeing James at my door, I was panicking again.
“You’re trapped, you can’t leave!”
“Frannie…” He had a ghost of a smile on his lips.
Grabbing both of his hands, I held them between us. His hands were so big and warm, it felt like being cocooned in a velvety blanket.
“I don’t do cuddling and sweet nothings,” I explained.
He leaned down and pushed my hair behind my ear, then whispered, “Just because you say it, it doesn’t make it true.” Then, as if his warm breath in my ear and my name on his lips weren’t enough to make me swoon, he ran his tongue up the rim of my ear, then bit the lobe gently before standing up straight again.
James escaped my feet and opened the door. “Bye, Frannie.”
In a stupor, I raised my hand. “Bye, James.”
What was this man doing to me? Nothing with him was expected either. When I asked him to lunch, I’d wanted to apologize for mistreating him, to hear his explanation for both being a virgin and why he hadn’t told me, to get the hell over this crazy infatuation. I’d done the first two, but the third seemed elusive. And now, after tonight, it felt like an impossible task.
Twelve
I wasn’t excited about this date. I wasn’t even sure it was a date, but I definitely wasn’t looking forward to any part of my impending evening. I couldn’t really pinpoint a reason for my ambivalence, however. After all, Marco and I’d had an extremely fulfilling evening together a few months ago. But I had to admit a certain mountain of a bearded bartender kept creeping up in my thoughts, no matter how hard I tried to push him away.
I told myself I wasn’t doing anything wrong by going on a date. It wasn’t like James and I were committed. We hadn’t even spoken since we’d hooked up. I still didn’t even have his phone number.
Marco and I were meeting for dinner and drinks. He’d told me to pick a place and I chose the most casual burger joint I could think of. Okay, so I was looking forward to the burger and beer portion of the evening.
My normal style for dates consisted of lots of skin, dramatic makeup, and the highest heels I owned. Since I wasn’t really feeling it tonight, I kept the makeup light, and skin covered in skinny jeans and a chunky sweater. I still wore heels, though—I had my standards. But they were booties, with only three-inch heels. Totally casual in my book.
I stood outside the restaurant, which was only a couple blocks from my apartment, waiting for Marco. I showed up on time. He swaggered up five minutes late.
“Frannie! My beauty!” Marco yelled from a block away.
Even though I was cranky, hearing his thick New York accent made me laugh.
I waved both hands over my head. “Hey, Marco!”
When he finally walked up to me, he had a wide, happy grin on his face. He put one arm around my waist and the other on the top of my back and dipped me. I’d never been dipped in my life, and here was this man who couldn’t have been taller than five-foot-five and probably weighed less than me, bending me back dramatically in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Well, that was some greeting,” I said when I was finally upright again.
Marco kissed my hand. “And you are some woman.”
I laughed at his flirtatiousness and pushed his shoulder playfully. “I’m glad some things haven’t changed.”
He slapped his chest. “I’m thirty-five years old, Frannie. This is who I am and it ain’t changing.” He held the door open for me. “Ladies first.”
We ordered our dinner at the counter and went to a small booth to wait for our burgers. I smiled and took a moment to study him. Marco was definitely handsome, with wavy brown hair combed back off his face, light blue eyes, and the most perfectly coiffed handlebar mustache I’d ever seen. He was a small man, but in shape and clearly strong. In New York I’d felt instant chemistry with him and we’d been all over each other. Tonight, I still found him attractive, but other than that, I wasn’t feeling it.
“What are you doing in Baltimore?”
He twirled the end of his mustache. “Do I need a reason to come see you?”
“Oh my god, Marco. You’re impossible. Are you here for work?”
He laughed. “Yes, my dear Frannie, I’m here for work.” He paused. “And for you.”
“You had me going there for a second. I thought you were going to talk to me like an actual human being!” I rolled my eyes but grinned at him anyway. He was a complete tool, but a likeable one.
“I told you, Frannie, this is who I am. I’ve been flirting with beautiful ladies since I could speak. Actually, my mom said I flirted from my infant car seat. But since you asked, I’m running a training seminar for our educators to learn our new hair color line. I’ve been traveling all over the East Coast. I don’t think I’ve been home for longer than two days at a time in months.”
I batted my eyes playfully. “And do you have a lady in every port?”
He held his hands up. “Heeey, a gentleman never tells, my beauty.”
Our food arrived, and we dug in. Normally I tried to be a little ladylike when I was with a gentleman caller, but tonight had a definite friendship vibe, so I made fast work of my cheeseburger, onion rings, fried pickles, and beer. I smelled absolutely disgusting when I finished.
I leaned back in my seat and rubbed my full belly. “Oh, man, that’s good stuff.”
Marco glanced around. “You surprised me when you picked this place, but damn was that some greasy goodness.”
“I’m very serious about my junk food. Never question me!”
He nodded. “I see that now. I definitely won’t. The last time we met, I guess we didn’t do much getting to know each other or eating.”
I wiggled my eyebrows. “Oh, there was definitely eating.”
Marco slapped the table. “Damn right there was!” Then he leaned in closer to me with a more serious expression. “Frannie, I have to be honest. I’m feeling the vibes you’re putting out tonight, and I hope I’m putting out the same type of vibes. I started seeing someone a month ago and I’m hoping it’ll go somewhere when my life settles down again. So, I’m trying to be a good little Marco.”
I held out my hand. “Friends?”
He nodded and shook it. “Friends. Absolutely. And who’s the lucky man in your life?”
I tapped my fingernails o
n the table. “Um, well…remember I told you about the jackhammer-er?”
Marco twirled the end of his mustache again. “That sounds familiar. The bad sex I cured you of?”
I tapped his hand with my fingertip. “Yep.”
He raised his eyebrows. “And…?”
“That’s who I’m sort of kind of hung up on.”
Marco’s eyes widened, and he stood up. “No! The Jackhammer got you?”
I laughed and waved my hands at him. “Sit down, you doofus!” When he sat back down, I said, “He hasn’t gotten me really. But we’ve gone out and messed around again, and try as I might, I can’t get him out of my head. You’d like him. He has fantastic facial hair.”
Marco pointed to his mustache. “Better than this?” He looked personally affronted by the possibility.
I cocked my head to the side. “Not better, but equally nice.” That seemed to appease him. “He’s young.”
“Fraaanie…how young is young?”
“Twenty-three.”
Marco winced. “A kid!”
I shook my head. “He’s definitely not a kid.”
“I have to see this man,” Marco declared. He stood up again and held out his hand to me.
“Uh, what do you think is happening right now?” I asked. The sudden turn of events on my non-date had me completely confused. Here I was, stressed out about this whole situation, and Marco wasn’t even interested in me. And now he wanted to go see James?
“You said he’s a bartender, right?” He pulled me out of my side of the booth and I stared down at him.
“How do you remember that?” I asked in disbelief.
“You told me, my beauty. I have a mind like a steel trap. Or an elephant. Whichever analogy you prefer. Point is, you told me plenty about the Jackhammer. Now I want to see him!”
We’d been together months ago and I couldn’t really remember doing much talking, but apparently I’d been thorough in my description of James.
I walked ahead of him out of the restaurant and turned to him on the sidewalk. “Okay, first of all, his actual name is James,” I said. “No more of this Jackhammer talk. Secondly, don’t you think it’s weird for the last guy I banged to go check out the guy I’m seeing currently?”
