by Frankie Love
I want to tell her that yeah, I’ve slept around, but this Kinky List is fucking news to me too. I’ve never fucking gotten off while a woman watched from across the country. I’ve never pinned a woman to a wall in the alley and given her my cock. But with Gracie I did. Not to mention, I swear, in that alley, I gave her my fucking heart.
Only trouble is, I haven’t exactly explained that to her. I never laid it out, let her know how I felt when she was in my arms. How, even though I’m the big guy with broad shoulders when our bodies are pressed together, it feels like she’s the one holding me up.
I don’t know what I’ll get in return, and I know messing up her list is a shitty move, but I don’t exactly want to live with regrets when it comes to Gracie.
The elevator doors open on our floor. And I walk through them, ready to knock on her door.
But before I even reach it, she comes out of it.
A smile spreads across my face. Gracie with her soft brown hair in waves down her back. Gracie with her pink lips and long lashes. Gracie with her ...with someone else.
A guy.
A fucking dude.
He follows her out into the hall, and she laughs, waiting for something. For someone.
Then a second guy comes out of her apartment. A guy who presses his hand to the small of Gracie’s back.
My jaw tenses; she doesn’t see me here. I don’t want to watch, but I can’t fucking look away.
With a jean jacket on, and her purse on her shoulders, Gracie’s clearly leaving. With these two guys. She locks her door, then says something that makes them laugh.
She still doesn’t see me, but she’s about to. She takes steps down the hall with these men by her side, and I try to fucking process whatever the hell is going on.
I realize I’ve never actually seen Gracie with any guys, and certainly not guys who touch her skin as if it is familiar. It’s been what, three weeks since our video chat ... and suddenly I wish I hadn’t given her space.
I wish I’d been all up in her grill.
She sees me.
“Cooper?” Her eyes go wide, and she grins. “Oh, my god, I did not expect to see you.”
“I just got home.”
“Wow, well,” she smiles again, “welcome back.”
“Thanks.” I want to reach out and give her a hug, and even though I have no claim on her, I get territorial. She steps back, though, arms hugging her chest, giving me a message. “Are you headed out?” I ask although it’s fucking obvious.
She tells the guys to give her a second, and I’m relieved. They nod and walk toward the elevator bank and for a second I think maybe she’ll send them away.
“Yeah.” She scrunches up her shoulders. “Stephen and Drake are my dates tonight.”
“Dates?”
“Yep,” she says, smiling, looking past me to the guys.
“I didn’t realize you were...” What am I supposed to say that won’t make me sound like a fucking ass? That I didn’t think she would be dating anyone? Why shouldn’t she be? Sure, she’s getting kinky with me, but this was a no-strings-attached partnership. I’m her sex-guru, not her boyfriend.
“Well, isn’t that the whole point of the Kinky List, Coop? To broaden my horizons?”
“Right.” I give a short, sharp laugh. Because is this for real? It’s like this entire thing is blowing up in my face. “Well, have fun.”
My ego is hella bruised and I’m fucking torn up about it. Like, what did I think, an amazing, gorgeous woman like Gracie would be waiting around for a brute like me?
I look back at Stephen and Drake who have pulled out their phones. They look put together in ways I never do. Fuck, I’m in low-slung jeans, Nikes, and a hoodie. Those guys are wearing slacks with motherfucking creases and narrow ties and suit coats. They look all GQ with their fucking hipster haircuts.
I run my hand through my long, shaggy hair. Fuck, I haven’t shaved in two days. This was fucking stupid, to think Gracie would be waiting for me because we had a few fun nights together.
“Well, I should head out, don’t want to be rude,” she says, biting her bottom lip. That’s when I realize she’s in a tight little top, her cleavage spilling out. Black pleather pants and heels. If I wasn’t staring into her eyes, I wouldn’t even believe it's Gracie.
I suddenly remember our exchange during our call... she was stressed out about something, had been crying, but wouldn’t tell me what.
“You okay, Gracie?” When she looks at me blankly, almost steely, I add. “Like, are we okay?”
“Oh,” she says in her brightest voice. “We’re totally good, Cooper. Can’t wait for the next item on the list.” She winks. Literally, Gracie Lithe winks at me, like she is the fucking devil, and then she walks away. Just like that.
She’s a walking hard-on, that’s what she is, and she’s walking away from me.
Shit.
Why does it feel like I just lost the best thing I never had?
10
Stranded on Second
May
Everything hurts. My neck. My feet. My eyeballs.
I may not have become a promiscuous woman, but I sure as hell went all in with being a party girl.
Bridget had been so pissed at me for flaking out on her, for not being there for her, that after the FaceTime with Cooper; I knew what I needed to do.
It was all his doing, too. He’d said he was getting off the video call to head to the bar with his friends and all I could think was I am such a fucking idiot.
I’d spent the better half of a month banging myself to the idea of the sex-god next-door, pining after a man who offered me nothing but his cock; granted, it was a mighty fine cock – but still, he certainly wasn’t jerking off all alone dreaming of me.
I mean, he’s Cooper-fucking-Bentley. He was in US Weekly last week with a close-up of his ass in his baseball uniform. He is the guy who is put in memes all over Facebook. I saw one that said, I’d let him catch my mound.
What does that even mean??!!
So yeah. It was a wake-up call. I was messing things up with my BFF for a man who was giving me the glorious gift of his body and sexual expertise – but that was all Cooper was giving me.
After I hung up that call where I’d spread my legs and gotten off–in real time, mind you–to the “hunkiest man behind home plate”, I texted Bridget to find out what “house bar” her and the Pseudo-Spanish-Speaking-Horn-Dog were at.
In all fairness, the house bar was a lot more fun than the orgy.
Fewer naked strangers and more cheap booze. And I met Drake that night, so it ended up being fantastic.
I may have started the year as a virgin, but I’d already gotten naked in a restaurant, been handcuffed to a bed, and told Cooper Bentley about the fucking cucumber.
Did I seriously tell him that?
The more I think about that poor veggie, the more mortified I become at the thought of seeing Cooper again.
He probably thinks I’m a freak. And in my effort to combat that insecurity, I went all in when it came to the party scene.
Which led to two things:
1) Falling back into Bridget’s good graces and binge drinking our way through April.
2) Cooper giving me the COMPLETE cold shoulder once he returned from spring training. Confirming he was grossed out by the cucumber and was over the kinky list.
When I saw him in April, I tried to be all cool. And I thought it worked. I had Drake and Stephen with me – the cutest gay couple I’d literally ever met. (side note: I’ve already decided I want to be their future surrogate and give them all their babies) ... and spending time with them meant I wasn’t alone.
I wasn’t eating Ben & Jerry’s, watching Bravo! on my couch like I usually am when Cooper gets home from a trip. That alone made me feel like a badass.
So, I was feeling pretty and popular when Cooper walked off the elevator. He smelled hot. He looked hot. Later, Stephen told Drake, “If we were gonna do a threesome, it would be with him.�
�
In the hallway, I had literally winked at Cooper. Winked. And told him I was excited about the next item on the list.
If I was ever going to be caught exuding confidence – this was it. I was on my A-game.
And what did that do?
Nothing.
The next day I saw Coop and he wouldn’t even look in my eyes, he just shrugged and waved, saying he needed to go to the stadium for practice.
Which. Okay. I understand. I know there is a lot riding on this season for him.
But it didn’t get better.
And now it’s May. And instead of sexing it up with Coop, I have been working on my research paper. Attempting to make it everything Professor MacKernly wants it to be.
When it comes to Cooper, I assume he’s dating someone and doesn't want to hurt my feelings. Maybe his Milan model is back in town and he doesn’t want to rub it in my face.
My head is spinning with scenarios.
But then my phone buzzes with a text from Cooper.
A text with instructions.
11
One Tinder Swipe, Two Shady Texts, and a Threesome
May
I don’t know how to deal so I don’t.
Yep. Chalk that up as another reason I’m a fucking insecure asshole. The season is going well, and my confidence is returning, but that’s just part of it.
Another part is I’m fucking dying here.
Dying to taste and feel and be inside of Gracie again.
Yep. I realize that is totally self-serving, especially since I swear to God that girl developed a social stratosphere while I was at spring training. I can’t help it, though.
I miss Gracie, plain and simple. And not just her body. Her laugh and her words and her belief in me.
I wasted April wanting her. Seeing her. Scared of her. Scared of the way she was changing and wondering if I’d ever be able to keep up.
Not only is she rich, funny, smart, and gorgeous – she now also seems to know it. She seems to hold her head higher, laugh a little louder, smile a little brighter.
And yes, I realize the glimpses I get of her are just that – in the hallway, in the lobby, on the sidewalk as we are headed in opposite directions.
I don’t know exactly where we stand, but I need to find out. Because my dick needs me to stop being such a–well, not a pussy, but a wuss–and plan how to get close to her again.
As far as I know the list is still on, Gracie never said otherwise. So, the fact I don’t cross anything off it in April is all on me. I’m the one who said I was in charge of all this.
So now I am taking back control.
Go big or go home.
In this case, I’m going all in.
Me: Tonight. You and me. Come to the Regency at 8. Room 669.
I swallow, not knowing what she’d say. Hoping.
Gracie: Anything I should know?
Me: Download the Tinder app before you come.
Gracie: Already got it.
I adjust my cock, refusing to ask any questions.
“Yo, man, you coming out tonight?” Gabe asks, walking up to me in the locker room.
“No, I got plans.” I grab my duffel bag, ready to get the show on the road.
“Really?” Gabe cocks an eyebrow, not believing me.
We were 16-5, in first place, and as a team, we were clicking on all cylinders. Much of that, thanks to me.
“Dude, you deserve a night off. Blow off some steam with the guys. What are you doing?”
The two of us leave the locker room, and head toward the parking lot.
I try to act nonchalant. Like I’m not fucking whipped by a woman who isn’t mine. Truth is, I’m feeling pretty ballsy, texting her like I did, making shit happen.
“Gracie and I are meeting up.”
“Really?” Gabe whistles. “Good, because bro, you’re fucking tense as hell.”
I scowl. “Fuck you, I’m not tense. I’m killing it.” And I was. I’m hitting above .300 and lead the team in RBI’s.
“True, but you're almost getting too intense.” Gabe laughs, shaking his head. “You need to blow a fucking load or you’re gonna lose your shit. Honestly though, you like this girl?”
“Yeah,” I tell him.
“Then why don’t you lock it up?”
“Gracie isn’t like that. She doesn't think of me that way.”
“Why? Because you’ve been a man whore for most of your life?”
“Mostly.”
“Well tell her the truth about this year then. Isn’t that the whole reason you’ve gone cold turkey?”
I shrug, feeling weird that Gabe knows so much about my personal life.
“Dude, I get it. When women mean more than a hook-up, things get complicated.”
I nod, jumping in my car, ready to be done with our little chat, but knowing that Gabe is totally right.
Except Gracie thinks this is just a hook-up, and if I tell her where I am coming from, she might just run away.
Eight pm sharp, she knocks on the door.
I pull it open, greeted by Gracie in a bomber jacket and black boots. She looks edgier, less Connecticut and more NYC.
“Hey stranger,” she says, walking in the suite.
“Hey, yourself.”
“So, you texted...?”
She doesn’t offer me any small talk. Doesn’t ask about my day. Doesn’t say you’re doing fucking great lately, slugger.
She’s here for one thing, and one thing only.
My body.
Refusing to get all hormonal about it, I clear my throat, because even if I’m in charge, right now I’m playing by her rules.
A relationship with her isn’t on the table... but the Kinky List is our common ground.
“Pull up the app,” I tell her. “We need to find ourselves a threesome.”
Her jaw drops, and I’m glad. I want her surprised. I assume she thought that would be the climax of this year, but she’s wrong. We got all weird for the past sixty days... and maybe inviting a third person to our party will help us get past that.
“Great,” she says. “That sounds super fun.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it, she just pulls her phone out of her pocket and unlocks the home screen before handing it to me.
I take the phone and walk toward the sitting area in the penthouse. It’s all white leather, dark wood, decadent. And not our personal residence. Which is important when you’re picking up strangers to fuck.
“Wanna drink before we go shopping?” I ask. She nods emphatically and I watch her take off her jacket, a silky tank top on underneath, dark skinny jeans hugging her hips. I turn around because my cock is fucking twitching like a dog in heat.
“How about gin and tonic?” I ask, knowing she likes those. I carry them to the sofa, where she’s sitting crossed legged. “Cheers,” I tell her, offering her a tumbler. “To new experiences.”
She cocks an eye at me warily. “New experiences? I’m guessing this isn’t your first rodeo.”
Not wanting to admit that I’ve never had a fucking threesome, let alone not done most of the Kinky List, I shrug noncommittally. “To us, then,” I say, clinking the rim of my glass to hers. “And to the lucky bastard joining us tonight.”
At this her eyes raise.
“What?” I ask.
She laughs, finally showing me a smile. “So... you’re up for a two guy, one girl threesome?”
I scoff. “This list isn’t about me. It’s about you, Gracie.”
“I’m just surprised is all, when I told... never mind.” She shakes her head and then takes a sip.
“You told someone about the list?”
“Just in passing, I mentioned what I was doing. I mean, I didn’t say it was you, or anything.”
“Okay.” I run my hand over my jaw. “Whatever you want.”
“No, I mean, Coop, I didn’t tell Bridget or someone who could put two and two together. But it came up one night. I was playing Cards Against Humanity, you heard of tha
t?”
I nod.
“Well, there was a card about getting handcuffed and spanked and the conversation got personal. Anyways, once I said I’d done that... the next thing I knew I was explaining the Kinky List.”
“And when you mentioned the threesome on the list your buddies thought no way in hell would a guy go for one girl, two guy scenarios?”
“Right.” She shrugs, as if embarrassed.
“Well, I’m not most guys.”
Gracie looks me over, and she nods, then says softer than I expected, “I know you’re not, Cooper.”
The sexual tension is there, for sure... but another layer of tension too. Like... frustration.
Maybe it’s just sexual frustration.
I don’t know.
My plan tonight is to rid ourselves of that.
“So, Tinder?” I ask, pressing the app on her phone.
“Yeah, I’ve never used it, just so you know.”
“I don’t care if you use it.”
“Do you use it?” she asks.
I run my hand through my hair. “I have the app too if that’s what you’re asking.”
“I don’t need details,” she says quickly.
I ask her to swipe right on anyone she’s interested in.
“Um, hmmm,” she says, poring over profile pictures. “This guy?” She turns the phone to me.
“He has a mustache.”
“I know.”
“You like that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I mean, it’s hard to choose. And I feel like... weird choosing in front of you.”
“Don’t let it be awkward. This is going to be fun.” I grab the gin and add more to her glass. “I promise, it’s gonna be memorable, to say the least.”
She laughs and keeps looking. “Him?”
“I know I said no judgment, but Gracie, he looks barely legal.”
“It says he’s nineteen.”
“I don’t know. That seems sketchy.”
She keeps looking for a few minutes, and her cheeks get red, and feet start tapping. Uncomfortable.
“Do we have to have a threesome?” she asks, looking at me as if something has just dawned on her.
