by Ada Winter
Gus was a modern day hippie. He had dreadlocks down to the middle of his back and was always drinking wheat grass concoctions. Wheat grass and blueberries, wheat grass and raspberry, and wheat grass and banana were his favorites.
There must have been something to it though, as Gus was not one of those skinny hippies who looked like a strong wind could blow them over. He was built like an Adonis. I even google-searched ‘benefits of wheat grass’ at one point to see if I, too, could benefit from its obviously wonderful properties.
He was naked all the time, as he felt clothing was constrictive and believed it was unhealthy for his body. As he and Tracy got more serious, her clothes stayed off more, too, and when you put two young, healthy beautiful people together in constant nakedness, things are going to happen.
One time, I went to Tracy’s home to pick her up, and I couldn’t help seeing their bare-naked asses through the glass-fronted door. Their butts stared back at me as they mixed wheat grass drinks at the kitchen counter.
I hightailed it out of there, and when she called me later and asked why I didn’t come over, I replied cleverly, “I barely made it to the door before your bare-naked asses stopped me dead in my tracks. I could barely contain myself, so I left.”
To add to being naked, they did it a lot. Being naked makes one think impure thoughts and that leads to sex. Having sex leads to a shower, then toweling off and more nakedness. Recent sex-related memories lead to more desire, and the cycle repeats itself.
What finally ended the relationship was the real possibility that Tracy would lose her job. She had been late half a dozen times over the course of a month due to ‘sexual opportunities,’ as she put it. Gus didn’t work, so without Tracy’s job, they would have both ended up homeless. Forced out, Gus took his wheat grass and bare-naked unemployed ass and left in search of another always-naked dream goddess.
“Are you two getting serious?” That question catches me off guard a bit.
“I don’t know if I’d say that. He’s getting under my skin, for sure, but serious? I don’t know.” After I answer, I realize I’d lied to my friend, or at least hadn’t been forthright.
She knows it. “You’re so full of shit, Celia Brennan! I hear the way you talk about him. Your voice gets softer when you say his name. Lane this and Lane that. We’ve been besties for years, and I know you sometimes better than you know yourself. What are you afraid of?”
Defensive now. Afraid? She looks serious now. I can’t wiggle out of this conversation without changing the subject.
“How about you, Tracy? Any prospects I should know about?” She is fired up now. “Don’t you pull this shit. I know what you’re doing.”
I feel ashamed. Tracy had always been open with me and now I need to be open with her. I know what I am afraid of, but can’t get myself to say it. I trust my gut and blurt it out. “It pulled up some old stuff. The accident.” It was all I could do to say it before I choked up with emotion.
Tracy immediately puts down her drink and scoots her chair over closer to me. She wraps her arms around me and I softly cry into her shoulder. Tracy knows my history. She connected the story from my past and applied it to my present situation. Tracy is good like that. Always aware and always there if I need it. A true friend. I need to cry, but this isn’t the place. People are starting to look at us and I’m not going to make a scene.
“I’m okay,” I whisper. She let go. There is no need to talk about this anymore. I hadn’t answered Tracy’s question, but she knew full well how I felt about Lane Astor. It was serious. We were serious, although I don’t know if we'll make it.
Old demons. Clawing their way back into my consciousness and threatening to destroy me. To destroy us.
Chapter 35
LANE
Summoned to my father’s office just this afternoon, I made my way across town for the 5:00 appointment. One does not keep my father waiting.
I walk in at 4:55 and have just enough time to make my way to the fifth floor and the home of Astor Financial Services. My father is the founder and CEO of a spin-off of my grandfather’s financial consulting firm, formally called Astor Brothers Consulting.
My father is a busy man, and for him to call me in to speak at the office means two things. It is business-related and it’s important enough that he undoubtedly had to cancel someone else from his schedule.
I check in with Yvonne, my father’s receptionist who has always had a thing for me. She smiles a little wider and takes her time speaking with me whenever I’m here. Or maybe it’s just because I’m the owner’s son, and overall I’d be a very good catch. She is beautiful with dark hair, a cheerleader’s button nose, and a body that never quits. I’d considered making a move in the past, but my father would consider her status beneath me and would never allow it.
Yvonne made it a point to lean over a few times, providing me with a clear view of her obviously enhanced breasts. A guy can tell. They barely move and have a perky appearance to them. I’m not interested. Certainly not since I met Celia. After waiting for 20 minutes, I am whisked into the glass-enclosed conference room in the center of the office. It is sound-proofed.
I think my dad wants everyone to see him conducting business. The room is floor-to-ceiling glass on all four sides with etched-glass striping that leads to the giant Astor Consulting logo with a star for the A. He had a visual presence to him, and I’d watched him many times gain the upper hand in that room with his power pyramid pose and commanding body language.
He will no doubt use it all on me today. Yvonne bent down right in front of me to pick up an imaginary piece of lint off the carpet, never bothering to squat down when she does it. This was an ‘I want you to fuck me in the ass posture’ and I wasn’t biting. My father does like the office to look meticulous, but this is an obvious ploy to get me to look at her ass. It looks great, but again, I’m not interested. This doesn’t dissuade her from giving me a big smile as she passes by me very closely while the whiff of her perfume swirls around me for a few seconds after she is gone.
C’mon Lane…stand your ground.
My father strolls in dressed impeccably in a gray pinstriped suit with 24K gold cuff links. He is still a handsome man despite his age, and has a thick head of white hair atop his tanned head. His features, sharp and strong, are still appealing to members of the opposite sex. Shaking my hand firmly and with direct eye contact, he says, “Hello, son. Please have a seat.”
“Hello, Father.” I always hated calling him that. When I was a child, he instructed me not to call him ‘Daddy’ anymore and insisted that I call him ‘Father.’ I’d prefer to call him ‘Dad,’ but that isn’t one of my choices.
I take a seat at the head of the table － a power play of my own － and I can tell by the look on his face that he doesn’t approve. “Do you know why I called you here, Lane?” I have an excellent idea, but I’m not about to let on.
“No,” I reply.
“I’ll cut to the chase. This business venture of yours is not proving to be a worthwhile investment for me. I’m cutting off all support.”
I am devastated, but will do my best not to show it. “It’s a new business venture, Father. Wouldn’t you agree that some businesses require some time to be profitable?” My anger starts to flow as I think of all the kids that will be affected by my father’s decision.
Heartless bastard.
“Some time? It’s been two years and not only are you not making money, you’re losing it. It’s about time you admit to yourself that you’ve failed.”
That word dug deeply inside of me. Failed. I wasn’t a kid anymore, but my father knew how to plunge the knife in and twist it. “I’ve helped hundreds of kids gain some sense of stability in their lives when they had nothing else. I disagree with you. My youth center is a success.” Feeling pride in my new-found strength, I think back to Celia’s support of my work. She thinks it’s important, and so do I. These kids are worth fighting for.
My father pus
hes his hands together to form a pyramid. His power pyramid. He is looking to turn the tables and I know I won’t like what comes next.
“I have a proposition for you. I am your father after all, and I’m not going to let you go hungry. I’m opening up a new office in Boston. It’s a satellite office, and I want to gain a foothold there. Under my direction, you will head up this office and report to me directly on its progress.”
My heart sinks. I have no desire to work in the financial services industry. He had tried before and I’d given it a shot. I made boatloads of money for the few years I did it. I was able to purchase the Alfa Romeo and the Harley. But now, I have other dreams. He had funded them and they had failed. Maybe I am a failure.
I thought of Celia. Boston puts me in the opposite direction from her. Farther, not closer. My head is spinning. How can this be happening?
I want to get out. Business-like now. “I need some time to consider your offer.”
The look on his face says, I have you now. I want to punch him, but I’m better than that.
“You have two weeks to accept my offer. After that, it goes away. I will not make this offer again.” With that, we shake hands and I walk out. Yvonne smiles at me and I give her nothing back.
I make for my Harley. My head is spinning and I can’t think straight. I have to ride. I have to ride fast to Celia.
Chapter 36
CELIA
After my night out with Tracy was cut short by my outburst, I experienced every emotion on the spectrum. On the bright side, there was the possibility that I’d be able to build a deep and meaningful relationship with a man I truly cared about with all my heart. On the opposite side, there were haunting memories from my past rearing their ugly heads and threatening to tear all that apart. I needed to figure out how to hold it all together.
I need to see him, that’s all there is to it. If he only knew how badly I need to see him, he would come. I want to hold him, to smell his hair, to taste him, to feel him embedded deeply inside me. Lane is a part of me now, for better or worse.
Shifting restlessly in my bed, I try to find a comfortable position, but I can’t. I am mentally frazzled, and there’s no remedy for that. I lay there, tossing back and forth with my eyes open, for what seems like hours. Having lost all track of time, I wander out the back door to step into the dewy grass. I must look like a fairy out there with my long, flowing white nightgown trailing behind me.
Nature is my tonic. It helps me think and reflect when nothing else can. Not caring about the wetness of the grass, I lay down on my back to stare up at the moon. It’s nearly a full moon. I study its detail wondering what it must be like to stand on it and look back to the earth. Only a few men know exactly how that feels.
My hands move to my breasts and I can feel my nipples pressing against the soft fabric of my nightgown in the semi-crisp night. Softly, I massage them into a point while I lay there and think of Lane.
Oddly enough, I feel connected to him, almost as if he were there beside me. As if the hands on my breasts, massaging my nipples, were his hands. I alter my touch to match his rougher style. He likes to pull on my nipples and sometimes it hurts, but in a good way. So I pull and twist until I work myself up into an excited state.
In part it’s the effect of the martinis lowering my inhibitions. But it is so much more than that. It is a woman and a man connected, even when they are miles apart. Connected by feelings and emotions and memories that are fresh and true and delicious.
I can feel him now. I can feel him with me.
I must have drifted off because the next thing I know, I am being awakened by Lane who laid down beside me in the grass. He is completely naked and I think I must be dreaming. As soon as his lips touch mine, though, it is clear I am not. This is real. We are real. I have never felt so relieved to see anyone in my life. Not my mother who came in to comfort me when I had terrible nightmares. Not my father who found me injured in the woods after I had fallen out of a tree and broken my tailbone.
This, here and now, was the best moment of my life, and I need Lane like my body needs oxygen to survive. I drink him in. His saliva in his kiss feeds my body and soul. Lane’s tongue works its way around my neck with skillful precision. He is the master and I am his slave. “Lane…uhh…Lane.” I can’t talk and tell him what I want. My breath is escaping me.
He can sense what I want and immediately complies. He slowly kisses his way down my body as my back arches up to meet him. My body is rigid but willing to feel the effects of the tip of his tongue, working its way down lower and lower. Darting in and out of me now, and then swirling, he alternates his technique as my thighs clench tightly, then I release them from his face as he forces them down. I am wide open now. Exposed. I am filled crazy with lust － out of control － and my reactions seem to urge him on even more. Lane is licking and sucking at my lips now with surgeon-like precision. Fully swollen and moist, I am ready to receive him. All of him.
Sheathing himself with a condom now, he is eyeing me up and down as he licks his lips. My mind explodes as he enters my wet pussy. I envelop him fully as I take him all the way in. I milk his cock with my satin glove, pumping, and stroking him inside with my pussy muscles.
Lane is crazy with excitement and I think he might lose all control at any second. Slowing it down to make it last, every bit of his cock touches my insides as he concentrates on hitting my g-spot. With an upward angle, he pounds me deeply, his hips moving forcefully until I feel my soul scream inside. His pace quickens again and I can tell he is close. My legs are pinned up against my shoulders as he rams into me over and over, hard, rough and steady. I wrap my legs around his back to pull him even deeper into me.
Gigantic and swollen, his cock does its work as I imprint teeth marks on his shoulder. My body convulses in an orgasm, white light streaking across my vision, and five seconds later he joins me in orgasmic heaven. Our bodies as one, we collapse together into the wet dew. I never want this moment to end.
Chapter 37
LANE
I awake, my arm around my Celia and we’re lying in full spoon position. The dewy grass leaves a film of cool wetness over our bodies that otherwise feels good in the soft grass. Getting up to my knees, I carefully reach down and put one arm under Celia’s shoulders and the other under her legs just behind her knees. She shifts and moans a bit but quickly falls back asleep.
We are both completely naked, and it must be a sight to see me carrying her across the lawn and back to the house, although I doubt anyone is watching at this early hour. My feet slip a bit on the smooth tile of the lanai, and I readjust my grip. I use my knees to help hold her steady while my free hand works to open the sliding glass door. Celia is not a petite woman; she is tall at 5’7”, but I estimate she weighs around 125 pounds based on the weights I train with at the gym, so I can manage her pretty well.
As I pass by a full-length mirror, I pause to look at us both, naked and pure. Connected. I envision us in a movie scene where the hero rescues the damsel in distress and whisks her away to safety. Continuing to the bedroom, my feet prod along the loose shag carpet until we arrive at our final destination. Gently, I lay her down on the bed, being careful to support her head carefully until it kisses the pillow softly. She looks so beautiful with her auburn hair spread across the pillow, as the moonlight shone upon her face.
Angelic. My angel.
Despite my urge to take her again right here, I know she needs the sleep. What was she doing laying out in the grass anyway? I found it sexy as hell to find her bathed in dew with her nipples poking against the sheer white night dress, her lying blissfully on the grass mattress.
Earlier, ringing the doorbell and waiting for a long time, I decided to enter only to find her bed empty. As I stared out over the yard in the back, I saw something white, a contrast to the lawn breaking through the darkness. It was almost like a dream as I stripped my clothes off and walked over to her.
Knowing she woul
d surely want me, I kissed her lips gently and she rose to life. And now, I sit in the overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and watch my angel sleep. When her breath rises, her perfect breasts fall up and down in unison. I watch her for some time before my eyes droop heavily, finding my dreams.
Dreams of Celia.
****
Celia
“Sweet 16, Celia!” Walking into my house, I never expected this. There is Uncle Jimmy, my mom, Sid, my bestie Amanda. Everyone is here.
Many hugs and kisses later, we cut into the ice cream cake and I start opening gifts. “Thanks, Mom!” It’s a gold locket, and as I open it, I notice it is empty.
“It’s up for you to decide whose picture goes in there, not mine.” I have an idea who I want in that locket, but I dare not tell anyone.
Mark Thornton.
She smiles at me warmly and I can just see the love in her heart. My mom has been through a lot after losing my dad when I was just a young girl. I never really knew my dad, at least not well. I remember him lifting me up on his shoulders while I clung around his neck for dear life. Laughing. Giggling. I liked it. She had loved deeply and lost at a time when I had never yet loved someone like that in my life. I thought about it a lot, though, and felt ready for it. Ready for love.
There is my big brother Sid, and I love him deeply. He loves me, too. That’s not the love I’m talking about, though.
True love. Mark Thornton love. He knew I was into him. Lorraine had spilled the beans in a not so flattering way. She’d passed a note to him during chemistry class and I’ve never been so mortified. On the bright side, at least he knew.
He turned beet red when he read it and avoided eye contact with me for what must have been weeks. He finally came around and asked me to go with him to the Harvest Dance. It was a mid-October celebration that had taken place for over 100 years in our town to give thanks for the fruitful harvest we are blessed with in our farming community.
