Full of Grace

by Misty Provencher

  I hear her phone ring. I drift to the edge of the stairs with my gym bag when I hear her say hello. She says it with a different brightness than what she gives Hale. She obviously knows who is calling her, and I’m wondering who it is myself, especially when her voice drops to that hushy whisper that has secret all over it.

  “Thanks for calling…yes, that’s right…I’ve thought it over and I’m sure I want to do it…I’ll pay you back…no, I definitely will…Landon’s got a huge heart, but he doesn’t know yet and he needs to...I appreciate you not saying anything right now…of course I’ll tell him!...I want to go as soon as we get back…”

  What is she hiding now? Why does she keep hiding things at all? At least this sounds like a happy secret, but where is she going? This can’t be about the abortion clinic again, it can’t. We’ve been through it over and over again and I thought we were through with it this time for good. Aren’t we? I shift my feet and my gym bags clangs into a vase sitting on a tiny table against the wall. The vase wobbles and I catch it, but I curse and the whole commotion is too loud.

  “I’ve got to go,” Sher whispers upstairs. “Thanks again! Bye!”

  I go up the stairs, since I’ve been found out anyway, but when I hit the top, I still try to look all nonchalant about it. Sher is doing the same, pulling a bathing suit out of her bag. She gives me the what huh doe eyes when I set my bag down on the opposite side of the bed. I don’t want to pry at her; I want to give her a chance to tell me what’s going on.

  “Who’re you talking to?” I inquire with a polite grin.

  “Hale.” Her answer is too quick.

  “Oh. I just caught the tail end and I thought it might’ve been someone else.” Ok, so I’m going to pry.

  She stops with her bag and plants her little hand on her hip instead, to give me an extra hint of attitude with her words. “Oh yeah? Like who?”

  “Like I don’t know.” I shrug. “That’s why I was asking.”

  She holds up her phone, flashing me with the last number that dialed her. It says Maree. It was Hale after all.

  “You don’t have to prove anything.” I say, looking away from the phone screen. “I was just asking.”

  She drops the phone on the bed with a stiff nod. I don’t think she expects me to let it go so easily. I’m not sure I should either, but I can see I’m not going to get anything out of her by asking her directly. She looks out the wide windows across from the bed. A tiny slice of the beach and water is visible through the trees.

  “Do you think the water’s still warm enough to go swimming?” she asks.

  “I’d doubt it, but it’s an inland lake. It might be okay.”

  “We should try it,” she says. We. Her little grin warms me up inside. She flicks her fingers toward the stairs. “Let me change then.”

  “Don’t get all shy now. I’ve seen everything you’ve got, and besides, I’m going to change in front of you.” I just unzip my pants and she giggle-squeals, hiding her eyes. I pull my board shorts from my bag and toss them on the bed as she peeks through her fingers with more wild giggles. She pulls a string bikini from her bag and flags it in the air.

  “You gotta give me a minute to change, for real!” Her high laugh scriggles up her words. “I don’t even know if it’s going to fit right! C’mon, Landon! It’s embarrassing!”

  “If it doesn’t cover everything, then it fits just fine.” I waggle my eyebrows and she chucks a pillow at me. I slide out of my pants and into my swim suit and she watches, her bottom lip lagging a little at the show. When she looks up and catches me smirking. She bursts into such a hard fit of giggles that her face turns purple. I laugh, but then I’m afraid she’ll pass out from lack of oxygen.

  “I’ll meet you out on the beach!” I tell her as I grab a couple towels. I jog down the steps and out the door to the beach, as another idea sparks in my head.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  I SPREAD OUT THE TOWELS ON THE SAND. The beach is warm enough, because there is no wind and the trees insulate it a little, but when I dip a toe in the water, it’s pretty miserable. Sher comes walking out a few minutes later.

  “It’s perfect,” I tell her, sweeping my eyes quickly over her yellow bikini. It’s mind-numbingly perfect. Small.

  “Is it nice enough to go swimming?”

  “I don’t think so. Try it,” I tell her. It’s the perfect opportunity to leisurely scope out the whole picture of her and her bikini. The bottoms ride really low on her hips, hiding the tiny triangle of her sex. Damn. But the top, the top is the prize. Her breasts are just slightly swollen, so I can see where the fabric used to lay and where it does now. I’m a believer. When it comes to bikini tops, less is definitely best.

  I watch the triangle of her rear as she stops at the shoreline and dips in her toe. I notice the bow, swinging at the middle of her back, and all I can think of is how badly I want to grasp one of the dangling strings and pull.

  Sher walks into the frigid water, pausing when she’s knee deep. Over one shoulder, she asks, “Are you coming?”

  The way her hair drops softly on her back, the way her waist curves into her hips, the way her legs look—the only honest answer is almost, but being a gentleman, I force thoughts of the temperature of the water into the center stage of my mind. When that doesn’t work, I call in Grandma. Grandma making cookies. Grandma’s coral-coated toenails in chunky sandals. Grandma bending over the sink cupboard to get dish soap. That does it.

  I stand up, following Sher into the water. I hoot when the water touches my thighs, but it’s the kind of cold that warms up after I’m under a few minutes. When I get closer to her, I kind of wish the water was even colder or that I could conjure a more potent memory of my grandmother. But I’m not sure that a glacier, coupled with a naked centerfold of my grandmother, could snuff the heat that surges beneath my waistband the second I reach Sher. One pocket of her bikini top has slipped off her nipple. The small rosebud is exposed and stiff, and the other, still concealed, juts like the tip of a star.

  Luckily, Sher walks further into the water and I follow until we’re both waist deep. It helps that the water is so cold, so my unit isn’t skimming the top of the water like a pike swam up the leg of my suit.

  I’m thinking of pressing Sher about the phone call, but when I think of pressing, all my thoughts drain under the waterline and the idea of pressing becomes even more exciting. Sher’s nipple is still watching me. It’s a cherry on top of a mound of fleshy ice cream. It’s a red grape at the bottom of a cluster. It’s…

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks, swirling the water toward me. The little waves break against my chest and I scramble to pull up something more sensible than her nipple. Besides, if I tell her, she’ll probably just put it away.

  “Um, the water,” I say. “It’s really cold.”

  “That’s all you’re thinking of?” She drifts closer and with another couple inches, she’s going to know exactly what I’m thinking of. I make a deal with myself that if that happens, I’m totally going to show her everything I’m thinking of. But, unfortunately…even excruciatingly…Sher stands her ground, only a foot away.

  “What should I be thinking of?” I ask and she shrugs, her nipple shrugging along with her. It makes me smile. She tips her head with a giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks. I have to stop looking at it. She’s going to figure it out and then it will be gone for good. But if I can’t look at it, what’s the point of it being there—being the sweet, pink lighthouse beacon to my submerged submarine. Holy shit. I lift my thoughts away from her nipple the same way a an extreme weight lifter yanks up the back wheel of a tractor.

  “Nothing,” I tell her. “I’m just glad you’re here, with me.”

  “Me too,” she giggles softly. The sound of it drags silk over my nerves. I feel myself swell a little under the waterline. The water is cold, but still not cold enough to keep the monster down.

  “Good.”

  “I like you,
Landon,” she hesitates and then, with a shy smile, she adds, “a lot.”

  “I like you a lot too.”

  She closes the gap between us, hopping on me. Her hands encircle my shoulders and her legs twist around my waist. My erection slides against her rear end and her eyes widen before her smile spreads into her eyes too.

  Her hair falls across my shoulder, her nipple rubs its Braille on my chest, and I kiss her. My mouth on hers and the cold water all around us, with our heat at its core, is explosive. When she giggles, the sound travels down my throat and gets in my blood stream. It wiggles through me as her tongue swirls around mine. There is no high in the world that can compare to kissing a girl that you want to kiss.

  I grasp the loose string at her back and finally free the other nipple. Sher grabs her top at first, peering around at the empty beach.

  “Don’t worry about it. No one’s around.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Positive,” I say and then I remember my plan. When we come up for air from our kiss, I lean my head back and say, “What is your name again?”

  She gives me a confused grin. “What are you talking about?”

  “I heard about this girl…she was into sex on the beach, with strangers.”

  “Ohhh,” she giggles, catching on. “It was probably just a crazy fantasy you heard about.”

  “But do you know this girl?” I ask seriously. “I want to meet her.”

  “I think I know her. Her name’s Sher. But if you want to…you know…” Her giggle has a shade of embarrassment to it. “You could try me.”

  “You?” I say, narrowing my eyes in mock surprise. “You’re that kind of girl?”

  “No…” she begins nervously and then she realizes I’m still playing and laughs. “Yes. Yes I am.”

  “So how do you like it?”

  She ducks in close to my ear.

  “Rough,” she whispers. I swear I almost lift her two inches higher, without even using my arms.

  “That’s good, because that’s how I’m going to do it,” I say. I run my fingers into her bottoms, spreading her rear and slipping the tip of my finger right across her asshole. She shrieks and squeezes her knees, raising up and almost crushing my ribs while she does it.

  “Not there! Not rough there!” she howls, yanking my hand out. I laugh. It wasn’t actually my plan of attack, but it got a nice response.

  “Wherever I want it,” I tell her. “That’s where we’re going to do it.”

  “No, not there!” she says. I capture her lips and kiss her long and hard, until she shuts up. She quiets down in stages, starting with protest, giving way to giggles, and finally settling into a low moan of pleasure.

  I carry her to the beach and throw off her dangling top before I lay her back on the towels. It’s freezing, but the sand is warm and I fully intend to heat us both up as I slide off her bottoms and toss them aside. With one hand, I cup her ass and lift her entire rear off the towel. I lick my finger and rub it lightly down her slit. She shudders. I bend and place a warming kiss on her sex.

  Her moan encourages me. My tongue slips between her folds. Slippery and delicious, I press into her, sinking my tongue deep. She trembles against me and my groan of pleasure vibrates inside her.

  I flip her onto her hands and knees. I pull off my suit and as she crawls an inch away from me, I grab her hips and yank her back. I push her shoulders down onto the towel, so her entire rear spreads wide open in front of me. I slip a finger into her and feel her smooth muscles gripping it, as she shudders.

  “You want me to fuck you?”

  I rub my thumb against her sensitive nub and her erratic breathing makes her answer quiver.

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “Rough,” she murmurs with a purr. I’m not going to do it nearly as rough as I could, but I jerk her backward, plunging myself into her, right to the shaft. She howls and then, as I push deeper, she pants, “There, there, there!”

  I grip her hips and slam into her once more. I pull out, until only my tip is buried at her base, and she rocks back against me, trying to take me back into her as far as she can. The sound she makes rotates between a throaty, grinding noise and a begging whine. Both are so damn sexy, I worry I’ll be finished before she is.

  I pull out completely and she sits back with a whimper. “More…”

  I lay down on the towels and pull her on top of me. The giggles vanish as I guide myself to her opening and she slides down onto me. And then she turns the tables. Unleashed. It’s the most intimate and erotic thing I’ve ever seen. She sways back, eyes closed, and then she lets go and her body takes over, guiding with what she wants to feel next.

  “Here?” she asks as she sits up on me and I answer with a groan. She takes my hands and lays them against her chest. Her nipples rub, like pearls, in my palms. I grip them and her gritty keening breaks from deep in her throat. The sun glows a halo around her head. She tips her head back and moans to the trees.

  When she raises up, I grasp her hips and pull her down hard, grinding as far into her as I can. I want to be in the deepest places of her, the ones that she keeps most secret. I want to touch the walls. I hold her against me while I vibrate my thumb against her sensitive little nub. She squirms, begging me not to make her come, but I don’t let her go until she howls, spasming against me. I follow her release, throbbing into her as she falls against me, her hair covering my face.

  “I love you, Landon,” she barely whispers against my shoulder. I’m still buried inside her when she whispers the words so quiet and raw that I’m not sure she meant to say them or for me to hear them. I’m pretty sure she thinks it went unheard too, as she settles on me with a purr. I squeeze her tight and hope she will say it again, out loud this time, lifting her head and looking me in the eyes. But when we finally separate, she just giggles and wraps the towel around her.

  ***

  “Three down,” I say later on. We’re huddled together on the couch, listening to the sporadic violin of a stray cricket. We’ve talked all day about nothing. It’s given me a million clues that lead me closer to figuring out who she really is. She loves cocoa and the 70’s music that Lisa has always played; she claims to be a Jenga master and she’s got different tunes of her giggle, depending on the subject.

  “What are you talking about?” she asks.

  “There were four things you said you wanted to do before you became a mom. I plan on emptying your bucket list so you can be a mom without feeling like you missed anything.”

  “What four things? I don’t even remember all of what I said.” She creeps closer to my side and I encircle her with my arm.

  “One was riding a horse,” I say.

  “Oh my God. How could I forget that?” she squeals, knocking her own forehead with the heel of her hand.

  “Pregnancy brain?” I offer.

  “If that’s started already, I won’t even remember my own name by the time the kid comes!” Every time she giggles, her body flutters like butterfly wings against my ribs. “Oh wait. That’s right—the tattoos.” She rubs my skating spider cheek with her thumb. “And I just had sex on the beach with a stranger…but what else did I tell you? I don’t even remember!”

  “Then I’m not telling either,” I say and she laughs as she climbs into my lap. She intertwines our hands and I think she’s going to kiss me, but instead, she pins my hands to the couch, pressing them into the top of the cushion on either side of my head.

  “Say it, bitch,” she laughs. I clamp my mouth shut and shake my head, even though I keep laughing behind my lips. Her hair skims my mouth. “Then I’ll kiss it out of you.”

  And she kisses me, sending the unique tingle that I’ve only ever felt from her, spreading through me.

  ***

  “Where are we going?” Sher asks as I drive through town. We follow the streak of road that bends so far it seems lost in the corn fields up ahead.

  “To fill your bucket,” I tell her.

 
; “But I don’t even remember what I said! Give me a hint!”

  “Nope. It’s just up here,” I tell her. “It’s in the next town.”

  We drive into what can only loosely be called a town. There is a liquor store, a gas station with outrageous prices, a rickety hardware, and a gray, cinderblock building with a decrepit sign that says,

  HOLE IN THE WALL

  I pull in and park between empty spaces. I cut the engine.

  “A bar? I said I wanted to go to a creepy bar?” she says.

  “Come on,” I tell her. When we get to the door, I hold it open for her and the waft of old cigarette smoke whooshes out at us. Sher puts her hand over her mouth and steps back with an uhmf.

  “Are you going to make it?” I ask. “We don’t have to go in, if it’s too much.”

  “No, I want to see what you think I wanted,” she says. She takes a huge, submerging breath and ducks into the darkened bar.

  The place is disgusting at best. It’s hard to see because it’s so dark. Even though my eyes aren’t focusing yet, the floor is sticky as flypaper and the soles of our shoes slurp as we walk across it. The place reeks of old ashtrays and spilled beer.

  “Sit wherever you want,” the bar tender calls from behind the bar. My eyes are still focusing, so I can only hear her voice. “You want nuts?”

  “And a beer for me,” I say. “Just water for her.”

  Sher’s coloring isn’t obvious in the darkened room, but from her expression alone, I would guess that she’s sea-sick green. I point to the only table near the only window. “Let’s sit there.”

  The bartender is a thin, wrinkly woman with a graying ponytail and loose arms. They jiggle when she first wipes the table clean and then deposits the bowl of nuts, and the drinks, between Sher and I.

  “What else can I get you?” the woman asks. “The special today is beer-battered catfish curls.”