The Perfect Score 2 Widow's Weeds

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The Perfect Score 2 Widow's Weeds Page 4

by Beth Williamson


  “Oh, God, Patrice, I ...”

  “Shhhh ...” Patrice climbed up on the bed and lay beside her, stroking her hair, allowing the passions to run their course. She still throbbed and needed and wanted so badly to simply continue, but knew Ronnie had just “popped her cherry” with a woman and needed some time.

  After a few minutes of calm, Ronnie leaned over and kissed her. Patrice’s heart started beating rapidly again, and her blood sang as it zinged through her. She knew Ronnie could taste her own essence and she deepened the kiss, sharing everything.

  “I want to pleasure you, too. Tell me what to do.”

  Ah, God, how she needed to hear that.

  “Touch me.”

  Ronnie was clumsy, but she was gentle. Her hands skimmed over Patrice’s body, touching her nipples, her pussy, and everything in between. It was as if she were touching herself, and that was good. So good.

  Patrice spread her legs and took Ronnie’s hand beneath her own. She showed her how to touch, how to tease, and how to please. Without prompting Ronnie suckled her breast as her hand moved over Patrice’s clit in an age-old rhythm that she’d likely used herself thousands of times.

  She was too aroused, too close to exploding, and within minutes, an orgasm ripped through her. Her body shook with the pleasure of simply giving and receiving, of having someone to touch in body and in spirit.

  After she caught her breath, she wrapped her arms around Ronnie and kissed her again. They snuggled spoon-style and pulled the quilt around them.

  * * * * *

  Veronica grinned as a soft hand trailed up and down her skin, back and forth, leaving a trail of goose bumps. She savored the feeling of having a warm body beside her, touching her. She wasn’t alone for the first time in a long time, either physically or emotionally.

  She rolled over and pressed her breasts against Patrice’s. Their nipples budded immediately.

  “Hi.”

  Patrice chuckled. “Hi yourself.”

  Veronica’s heart raced as she leaned forward and kissed Patrice’s pink lips. She opened her mouth immediately and their tongues danced together, rubbing and stroking. Veronica didn’t think it was possible, but she was wet with need already.

  The shrill ringing of the telephone nearly sent her catapulting from the bed. Brown eyes met blue and breaths mingled. The answering machine picked up on the second ring.

  “Veronica Marie Avery! You pick up the phone this instant!”

  Veronica’s entire body stiffened, and Patrice pulled back.

  Oh, my God. My mother.

  “I heard you were KISSING a woman! How dare you? You pick up this phone this instant!”

  How could she possibly know what Veronica had done from a thousand miles away? Oh God, her stomach roiled and the back of her throat burned.

  “What were you thinking? That’s just disgusting. Veronica ... I know you’re there. You had better pick up the phone.”

  Patrice was off the bed and pulling on her clothes while Veronica sat and rocked back and forth, trying to block out her mother’s voice. Tears pricked her eyes and the full impact of what she had done, what she was about to do, hit her. Hard.

  “Veronica! I expect you to call me the very second you get this message!”

  The phone abruptly cut off and the silence thundered through the house. Blood rushed in her ears, and her mouth was as dry as cotton.

  What have I done?

  A movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Patrice walking out of her bedroom.

  “Patrice ...”

  She stopped and her chin dropped to her chest, but she didn’t turn around. “No worries, Ronnie.”

  Without another word, she left. Veronica started crying, great gusting sobs that burst forth like a dam bursting. Five years of grief, heartache, and loneliness refused to be contained any longer.

  She fell over on her side, and the sheets absorbed her tears.

  * * * * *

  Veronica lay in her puddle of self-pity for an hour. She was completely confused and feeling as if a mule had kicked her in the stomach.

  What had she done?

  She’d had sex with a woman for God’s sake. What the hell was wrong with her? She felt odd, itchy, and just completely out of sorts. She’d had sex with men since Orin had died, but a woman? Veronica never, ever expected to do this, much less enjoy it so much. God, she felt so ... not herself.

  Veronica hopped out of bed and pulled on a skirt and top, minus her bra and panties. Without bothering to brush her hair, she grabbed her purse and the keys to the old clunker in the garage and left the house. The other car was still at the bowling alley, and she needed to get out.

  Veronica knew where she was going, even if she didn’t admit it. Somehow, some way, she needed validation. She needed to feel that she was still a woman.

  When she pulled up to Dean’s Den, it was eleven-thirty, and the music thumped against the wooden walls. The parking lot was full of pick-up trucks, motorcycles, and Chryslers like Orin’s. The Toyota she was driving was a leftover from her single days, another something she’d never gotten rid of.

  She got out of the car and headed inside, determined to find herself a man and have some hot monkey sex. A man, not a woman.

  It didn’t take long for men to start hitting on her. It was late, and there weren’t too many women alone in the bar. She had her pick of five prospective fucks. Two of them she knew and passed over. One had teeth that might give her nightmares. That left two more. They stood beside her at the bar, buying her drinks, helping her to sink into the dark pit of drunkenness.

  “C’mon, honey, you wanna dance?” asked the blond one with the green eyes and nicely bulging package in his faded jeans. He was big, perhaps a bit too big, but good-looking in a rough sort of way.

  “She ain’t dancing with you, Skeet, so go get yourself another girl.” The dark-haired one had chocolate brown eyes and an air of menace, like a pirate. His five-o’clock shadow was sexy, too. He was more her size, about five-foot-eight, with just a little beer gut. He would be perfect.

  “Fuck you, Brian,” the blond one said.

  “That’s the only action you’re getting tonight.” The dark-haired one snickered.

  Veronica held up her hands, the argument was too much to her over-stimulated mind.

  “Enough. Brian, right?” The dark haired one nodded. “You and I need to get to know each other better. Skeet, right?” The blond one nodded. “Maybe next time, okay sugar?”

  Skeet shot Brian a look of pure venom before he grabbed his beer and stalked away. Brian’s hand trailed up her shoulder and cupped the back of her neck.

  “You won’t regret this.”

  Little did he know. She regretted it before she’d even left the house, but it was something she had to do. She pulled him toward the hallway to the restrooms, heat pooling between her legs already. A whole lot of tequila and shattered inhibitions could do a lot to loosen a girl up.

  When they got to the dark corner beneath the broken light, Brian grabbed her and pushed her against the wall. He pulled up her legs until she straddled him. A nice firm erection pushed against her pussy and she wiggled against him. His mouth landed on her neck as his hands pulled her shirt up and started kneading her breasts.

  I want this. I want this. I want this. Veronica kept a running chant in her head as Brian realized she was going commando.

  “Oh, shit, baby, no panties? I gotta get in there.”

  His big fingers probed inside her, and she was surprised to find herself respond. A zip, a rip, and a snap and Brian was wearing his rubber raincoat and poised at her entrance.

  “Wait, I --”

  Whatever she was going to say was lost as Brian started fucking her hard. He was all cock and no finesse, banging her against the wall so hard that her head started to hurt. Despite the pain, Brian’s cock filled her and it felt good. It should have felt good, anyway. Veronica felt detached from the whole thing, as if she were watching herself have sex.


  Brian pulled her bra down and started suckling her nipple. It pebbled in his mouth as it should and Veronica tried so hard to feel something. Anything.

  It was over as quickly as it started. With one final grunt, he reached his peak, then leaned his forehead against hers.

  “Damn, baby, that was good.”

  Veronica didn’t answer. He withdrew and set her down on her feet. He kissed her quickly then ducked into the bathroom. She stood in the shadows, throbbing and wet, until she realized she was half-dressed and standing there like a moron.

  Veronica fixed her bra and pulled down her shirt, then quietly left the bar, not caring who saw her, perhaps even hoping they would.

  Chapter Five

  Patrice drove around for several hours after leaving Ronnie’s house. She wasn’t sure how she felt, other than hurt and disappointed. She hadn’t expected it, the panic and fear in Ronnie’s eyes, the crawling sensation on her skin that she’d made a horrible mistake in following her heart instead of her head. The look in her eyes earlier had been devastating. To both of them.

  But, alas, she hadn’t. Instead, she let her heart take over and ended up getting hurt. She pulled over to the side of the road and rummaged around in the glove compartment until she found what she was looking for. A stale cigarette. Patrice held the cigarette up and stared at it, wanting it so badly that her hand shook.

  It had been a year since she’d had a cigarette. A long year, the longest of her life. Now here she was, like an addict, ready to suck on her crutch because of a little heartache from her whitebread Moe.

  Patrice broke the cigarette in two and let the tobacco sprinkle all over her jeans. The brown was similar to the color of Ronnie’s eyes.

  “Dammit!” She punched the steering wheel, then cursed again when she almost broke her finger.

  Patrice had always been controlled by her passion and finding an outlet for it was usually easy. Art, in some way, shape, or form. Out here in Podunk, she didn’t feel the creative spirit, instead she felt frustrated. She needed to focus on something else. Patrice accessed the GPS and started hunting.

  * * * * *

  Veronica stood under the hot spray of the shower for over half an hour after she got home. The water washed away her tears, her self-pity, and her anger. Her regret remained. She had spent a lifetime making mistakes, and living with her regrets. She had done it all over again.

  The worst thing was, tomorrow was Saturday and she had promised to practice with Patrice at two. How could she? It was going to be so damn awkward. For Pete’s sake, she’d had sex with her. How awkward to run into your one-night stand intentionally.

  She scrubbed herself clean and washed away all the evidence of the night’s sexual adventures, but it didn’t matter. She could still feel everything, like ghost’s hands and lips on her body. Veronica tried not to freak out about it, but she was having a hard time not remembering how Patrice felt.

  Even though it was relatively warm, she pulled on her flannel nightie and crawled under the covers with wet hair. She didn’t care if it looked like a rat’s nest in the morning, she was exhausted. That’s when she realized the other pillow on the bed smelled like Patrice’s perfume. She pushed it off the bed onto the floor, rolled over, and forced herself to close her eyes.

  After a restless night, Veronica woke with a pounding headache and scratchy eyes. She made a face at herself when she saw how crazy-looking she was in the mirror. She ran a brush through her hair, sprinkled some water on it and considered it done. After brushing her teeth and getting dressed, she headed out for a jumbo coffee down at Starbucks. If there was ever a morning she needed it, it was this one.

  Veronica passed the hotel Patrice was staying at and kept her eyes focused straight ahead, although something compelled her to turn and look. At the last moment, she glanced over and saw Patrice’s SUV. Her heart thumped and her palms grew damp. God, would she always feel like this? Her skin broke out in goosebumps, and her empty stomach roiled as her anxiety came back full force.

  Shit.

  Why is it that things really seem absolutely the best choice when you do them, but afterward you want to slap your head like Homer Simpson and kick your own ass? She gripped the steering wheel tightly and concentrated on reaching the strip mall and Starbucks. One thing at a time. One minute at a time.

  Veronica pulled into the parking lot and was relieved to see Marlene’s pick-up parked there. She hopped out and ran inside, looking around for her friend.

  “Josie, where’s Marlene?” she asked the girl working behind the counter.

  “Restroom, I think.” Josie was a sweet, dark-haired teenager with a ring in her nose and a tongue stud. She wore dark make-up and way too much jewelry, but she was a nice girl.

  “Okay, thanks. Could I get an extra large today?”

  As Josie made her coffee, Veronica noticed her hands were trembling.

  “Hey.” Marlene’s voice startled a yelp out of her.

  “Sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  Veronica clutched her chest and closed her eyes. “You have no reason to be sorry, darlin’. I am an absolute wreck.” Tears pricked her eyes and when she opened them, they trickled down her cheeks. There must have been something in her eyes because Marlene immediately grabbed her and hustled her over to the corner table.

  “Sit there. I’ll get your stuff.” Marlene went back over to Josie and returned with Veronica’s coffee and a chocolate muffin. She grabbed her breakfast from a nearby table and sat down across from Veronica.

  “Now, what’s wrong? You look like you just lost your best friend.” Marlene’s green eyes were brimming with worry.

  “I just majorly screwed up my life.”

  “It can’t be that bad. Here, have some chocolate; it’ll help.” Marlene opened her muffin and pushed a fork into her hand.

  Veronica wasn’t hungry, but she took a bite. After a few fortifying gulps of the wonderful coffee, she felt slightly calmer.

  “I had sex with her.”

  Marlene’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “You did what?”

  “I know, I know. You can’t believe it. Neither can I. I feel so ... weird. Then I went out and screwed some strange guy in a bar.”

  Impossibly enough Marlene’s eyes grew wider. “Jesus, Veronica, I thought you were uptight and prissy. What you just told me goes far beyond any backseat fumbling I’ve done.”

  Veronica chuckled shakily. “I thought I was uptight and prissy, too. Until I met Patrice ... I never thought I’d, you know, but we did it. Right in my house, in my bed. God, that’s the bed I shared with Orin!”

  Marlene held a finger to her lips. “No need to shout it to Dallas, girl.”

  “I’m sorry. I just ... I don’t know what to think or feel.”

  Marlene squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I wish I knew what to tell you.”

  Veronica took another few swigs of coffee, comfortable in the silence with her friend.

  “Did you like it?”

  Marlene’s question made the experience explode like a movie in her head. The sensations, the feelings, the pleasure, and the yearning. All over again until her throat closed up and her heart was beating a mile a minute. She took short breaths until her muscles relaxed and she could speak again.

  “That’s the thing. You see ... I, well ... I did.”

  “Are you sure we’re not on some reality show here? Holy shit, Veronica!”

  “You’re telling me.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Veronica shook her head. “I don’t have any idea. And there’s something worse.”

  Marlene planted her hands on the table. “Okay, I’m prepared now. Shoot.”

  A laugh burst from Veronica at Marlene’s antics. “My mother knows.”

  “What?” Marlene’s shout echoed around the coffee shop earning them at least a dozen stares.

  “Shhhh. I don’t mean she knows about the sex part, but she knows I kissed her. Somehow
.” Veronica whispered.

  “How the hell would she ... wait a minute, where did you kiss her?”

  Veronica’s cheeks grew warm. “In the bowling alley bar ... and in the Deuce on the dance floor.”

  “You know, I think I’m going to hero worship you soon.”

  Veronica smiled and shook her head. “I have no idea what possessed me to act like that. Now I have to deal with my mother ... and I’m supposed to meet Patrice this afternoon for practice.”

  “I’m meeting Buck, too. Why don’t we go together and bowl next to each other? Would that help?”

  Veronica expelled a huge breath. “Yes, that would be great. I wouldn’t feel so odd about being alone with her.”

  Marlene squeezed both her hands. “No problem. I’ll be there for you.”

  * * * * *

  For a Saturday afternoon, the Starlite wasn’t much busier than normal. The tournament started in less than two days, and the only folks bowling were those getting ready for it and a few teenagers.

  Veronica asked Marlene to pick her up so she could get the Chrysler from the parking lot. She didn’t want to admit to her why the car was still there, but she had a feeling that Marlene knew exactly why.

  They pulled up just before two and Marlene’s big cowboy partner, Buck, was sitting on the bench outside. He was an enormous man with hands the size of dinner plates and a ready smile. His blue eyes filled with warmth as they walked up to him.

  “Lookee here, two beautiful women and only one of me. What ever am I gonna do?”

  “Fool. Don’t you know Veronica don’t even like you? And me, pshaw, you’re gonna have to pay me to take me out.” Marlene teased.

  Buck laughed, a deep, booming laugh that made Veronica smile. He was a nice man, and it seemed that he and Marlene liked each other, which was great news. In a small town like Espejo, it was hard to find someone who didn’t know everything about you, including who you slept with.

 

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