What She Needed

by Teresa Genevieve

  “A joy ride,” she repeated with awe. “At thirteen?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Oh, my. Whose car was it?”

  “My mom’s,” he confessed.

  “I have so many questions about this.”

  “I have time.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand, trying to decide what to ask first. “Did your mom turn you in?”

  “No, I got pulled over.”

  “You got pulled over? Oh my God, that cop must have been stunned to see a thirteen-year-old in the driver’s seat.”

  “He was a bit surprised, yeah,” he replied with a laugh. “Although, with the way I had been driving, he couldn’t have been that surprised. I didn’t even know which pedal was which. I think I only hit about fifteen as my top speed.”

  “I’m impressed that you even knew how to get it out of park.”

  “What can I say? I’m a natural.”

  “Okay,” she went on, “so that was your first time in juvie?”

  “Yup.”

  “How long did you get for that?”

  “Three months.”

  “Yikes. What did your mom say about it?”

  “Nothing.” Dylan’s expression grew sad. “I think she liked it. She got three months without a kid.”

  Melissa closed her eyes.

  “Truth be told,” he continued, “I kind of liked it, too. It was the first time in my life I had structure.”

  “That is so sad.”

  “Eh,” he replied. “It is what it is. I’m not trying to get you to feel sorry for me. I’m only telling you because you asked.”

  Melissa’s phone rang, and she assumed Jim was calling.

  “Are you going to get that?” Dylan asked.

  “Nah,” she told him. “I’ll let it go to voicemail.”

  Dylan raised his eyes to look at her; the intensity in his gaze reflected his appreciation.

  Melissa wondered if this was the first time in his life that somebody had actually made him a priority.

  Chapter 6

  The conversation moved over to the couch after dinner had been cleaned up. The slight hum of the dishwasher filled the room.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?” Melissa began.

  “You mean you haven’t already?” He flashed an evil grin.

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “This one is different.” Curling her legs into her chest, she looked up at him and softly asked, “Have you ever had any girlfriends?”

  “Girlfriends,” he replied, as if he was thinking. “I’ve had a few.”

  “Were any of them long-term?”

  Turning to face her, he put one arm against the back of the couch and leaned his head onto his hand. He mindlessly played with his long hair while he spoke. “Define long term.”

  While she was only making up a number, she spoke with confidence. “More than four months.”

  “Hmm. This is going to be difficult. It’s going to require me to remember dates and do math at the same time. I’m not all that good at either of those things.”

  “Well, just estimate, then.”

  “There was one girl who was definitely longer than four months. Her name was Ashley. I dated her back when I was sixteen, I guess, and I think we dated for almost eight months.”

  “Was she your first love?”

  “My first love? I don’t know about that. Love is a tricky thing to define. I was in love with a different girl every week back when I was fourteen. Does that count? Or is that just hormones?”

  “I think a good way to determine if it was love is to figure out how upset you were when it was over,” Melissa told him. “That girl—Ashley—did she break your heart?”

  “These are complicated questions.”

  “You don’t have to answer them.”

  “I’ve got nothing else better to do.” He drew in a deep breath as he thought. “I’ve got to try to remember this. All those drugs I did over the years have really messed up my ability to recall things. Um…I think she broke up with me when I got sentenced to juvie. I can’t remember if her mom made her break up with me or if she did it herself. I’m getting the girls confused in my head.”

  “You’ve lost more than one girl due to a conviction?”

  “Oh, yeah. Some of them didn’t want to keep dating a convict. Others stayed for a little while, but then they got tired of waiting for me. It’s apparently not all that fun to have a boyfriend you can’t see.”

  Those words felt like daggers in Melissa’s heart. Based on Dylan’s reaction, she imagined her pain had been obvious on her face.

  He kept his tone quiet. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that."

  Resting her chin on her knee, she whispered, “It’s okay.”

  “Based on the look on your face, I'm not sure it is."

  She closed her eyes to hide the tears that were forming. She wanted to say something to let Dylan know she was fine—she was strong, and her husband’s chronic absence didn’t bother her—but the words couldn’t come out.

  “Hey.” Dylan placed his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry. We can keep talking about me, if you want.”

  She wiped her eyes and smiled. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Do you want to hear about the first time I had sex?” he asked suddenly.

  Melissa let out a laugh. “I don’t know, do I?”

  “It’s a funny story.”

  “Alright," she replied, "I guess I do, then.”

  “I was fifteen,” he began. Lifting his finger, he added, “That, I do remember. I was sleeping over my friend’s house, and he had this hot older sister. She must have been seventeen or eighteen, which, to me, was magical at that age. Well, my friend fell asleep, so I went over and knocked on the sister's bedroom door. She was still awake, so I sat on her bed with her. We talked for a while, and I eventually pulled out all my best moves. I was quite the charmer back then,” he said sarcastically.

  “I can imagine,” she replied with a giggle. “Fifteen-year-olds are notorious for being charming.”

  “I know. I wasn’t awkward at all. But I used all my best lines, and—somehow—we started fooling around. I was stunned…and very proud of myself.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “And then things went farther than they’d ever had for me. She pulled a condom out of her end table drawer and told me to put it on. I couldn’t believe it was about to happen.”

  Melissa listened with a smirk on her face, waiting for the funny part.

  “So I got the condom on, and I…you know…” He hung his head and laughed. “I lasted one thrust.” He held up a lone finger. “One. And then I was done.”

  She covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah. I was mortified. And she wasn’t very nice about it, either. She was like, ‘That was it?’”

  Melissa couldn’t help but laugh. "What did you say to her?"

  “Nothing. I grabbed my clothes and ran out of there. And then I got all of my stuff out of my friend’s room and walked home.”

  “You left?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “What did your friend do when he woke up and you weren’t there?”

  “He called me, and I just told him that I didn’t feel good, so I went home. It wasn’t a total lie, I guess. I didn’t feel good. Except it was my pride that was hurting.”

  “I’m sorry, but that’s hilarious.”

  “I told you it was funny.”

  “You weren’t wrong.”

  His tone grew more serious as he nudged her with his hand. “I’m glad I could make you smile.”

  “With your inadequacy?”

  “Hey,” he replied with feigned offense. “I’m being nice to you. Besides, I’ve gotten much better since then.”

  “I’m sure you have.” She studied him, adding, “How old are you again?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  She did the math in her head; he had been sexually experienced for six years.
She wondered how good he could have actually been at such a young age. Although, she was sure that some people were blessed with more God-given talent than others, so maybe there was a chance he could have been good in bed after all.

  “What?” he asked.

  She was suddenly aware that she'd been staring off into space. “Nothing.”

  “No, not nothing,” he argued playfully. “Clearly, you were thinking about something.”

  She could feel herself blushing. “No. I…just…”

  “Mm-hmm.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  She lowered her head and broke into a laugh. “Okay, you caught me. I was just thinking about experience, that’s all.”

  “Experience?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I mean, sex is just like anything else. The more you do it, the better you get at it.”

  “And you asked me how old I am because…”

  She looked at her lap as she confessed, “I was just gauging your experience level, that’s all.”

  “Oh,” he replied, “I’m pretty sure I’m an expert.”

  “Okay, you're an expert."

  “Do you doubt me?”

  “Do you really think that six years can bring you to expert status?” she continued with a smirk.

  “I don’t know,” he said, shifting is position. He pulled is legs up onto the couch and got on all fours, crawling slowly toward Melissa. He locked eyes with her, the intensity in his gaze making her unable to breathe as he gradually approached her. He stopped with his face about six inches from hers and whispered, “What do you think?”

  They sat frozen for a moment. Melissa could feel a tingle deep inside of her as she remained fixated on his beautiful, young face. Oh, the things she could have done to him at that moment.

  But she was married, and she needed to keep this professional.

  She broke away from the stare, finally remembering to breathe. “Okay, so maybe you’re right,” she replied as she looked over toward the wall. “Maybe you do have...talent. But keep in mind,” she added, glancing back at him, “I've been sexually active as long as you've been alive. If six years can make you an expert, twenty-one years makes you a master.”

  Once she got inside her house, Melissa closed the door and leaned up against it, allowing her head to thump as she looked up at the ceiling. She took several breaths, trying to gain her composure, finding herself more worked up than she’d been in ages. She’d managed to get out of Dylan’s house without doing anything regrettable, but the urge to be unfaithful had been frighteningly strong.

  She walked away from the door, setting her purse and clean dishes down on the table. Her footsteps echoed on the hardwood—a stark reminder that she was once again home alone.

  She wished she was back at Dylan’s house. At least she felt alive there.

  Clenching her hands into fists, she closed her eyes and tried to gain some control. Her relationship with Dylan was to be a business transaction, and nothing more. She was not supposed to—or allowed to—become attracted to him. Nothing good could have come out of her developing feelings this kid.

  “I’m married,” she said out loud to no one. “Married to a wonderful man who is currently in England, working very hard to provide for me.”

  And next week, he’d inevitably be somewhere else.

  And the week after that…

  If she was going to be completely honest with herself, she was horribly lonely. Constantly being alone in that house was going to drive her insane if she had to keep doing it. She needed companionship so desperately she could taste it.

  Her mind jumped straight back to that image of Dylan, just inches from her face, looking her square in the eye. The way his hair had fallen, his rugged expression…it was enough to make her crazy. “He’s a boy,” she reminded herself. “A troubled, twenty-one year old boy who can offer me one thing and one thing only.”

  But, God how she wanted that one thing.

  “You can’t develop feelings for him,” she told herself. “You can’t. You can’t. You can’t. That would only ruin everything.”

  She looked around her big, fancy house and wondered if she would have been willing to trade every bit of it to relive the invigoration she’d felt when Dylan stared at her.

  That feeling would have inevitably gone away, she reminded herself. Lust could never last that long. Besides, she reasoned, even if Dylan could have stopped stealing and using drugs, he still would have been markedly less mature than her. His childishness would have quickly grown old. “The grass is greener, that’s all. He’s just a big, old patch of green grass.” With soft, brown eyes. And great hair.

  And probably an insatiable sex drive.

  Pushing that thought out of her head, she walked over to her calendar and dutifully placed an X through the day. Another twenty-four hours had gone by, and, yet again, she wasn’t sure if she had anything to show for it.

  Suddenly, she remembered she’d ignored a call from Jim. Pulling out her phone, she looked for a voicemail, but there wasn’t one. Adding six hours to the time, she realized it would have been the middle of the night in England, and a phone call at that hour would have been rude. She felt terrible, though, that she had completely disregarded a call from her own husband because she had been talking to Dylan.

  She made a vow to herself never to ignore Jim again. He was her husband, and she needed to make him the number one priority in her life.

  Pleased with that decision, she let out a stretch, suddenly feeling a wave of fatigue. It was getting late, so she figured she might as well go to bed. After getting ready, she climbed under the covers and, despite her best efforts to prevent them, thoughts of Dylan immediately filled her head. He had paid her some compliments, and he clearly had been teasing her when he had approached her on the couch. She wondered if that had turned him on as much as it did her. Maybe he was thinking about it right now, possibly even lying in bed and touching himself as he relived that moment in his mind.

  She imagined what that would have looked like. She pictured his naked body lying on top of the covers. His hair would have been strewn over the pillow, his free hand relaxed up over his head. She envisioned the ecstasy on his face as he lovingly caressed himself. She could see him breathing heavily and biting his lip as he fantasized that his hand was actually her mouth, and she was devouring him.

  The visual put her over the edge. She once again slid her hand down her panties, rubbing herself until she felt an orgasm spread through her entire body.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said once it was over. Her overwhelming urges had subsided, and she was finally able to think clearly and reasonably. She reminded herself that she had to focus on Jim. Her fantasies about Dylan had to end. Absolutely nothing good could have come out of them. With renewed determination, she reached over to her phone and programmed an alarm to go off at one in the morning.

  When Jim woke up on the other side of the ocean, he was going to get a surprise phone call from his loving wife.

  Chapter 7

  The alarm went off, causing Melissa to be confused for a second. Eventually, she realized this was her reminder to call Jim, so she reached over and grabbed her phone. Her eyes took a while to adjust to the brightness of the screen, but, once they did, she pressed his name and put the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, honey, it’s me,” she said in a raspy voice.

  “Hi. Are you alright?’

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. I’m just calling to say good morning.” Her tone reflected her pride in her plan.

  “I appreciate that, but if it’s not an emergency, I really do have to go,” Jim said quickly. Sounding as if he’d pulled the phone away from his mouth, he said, “Yeah, I’ll be right there. Just give me a sec.”

  “Is everything okay there?”

  “Just busy. More stuff keeps cropping up. Look, I’ve got to go. Love you.”

  “Love you….”

  She heard the phone click b
efore she could stay the word ‘too.’

  Pressing the red button, she concluded the call on her end, allowing her hand to fall limply to the bed. Her eyes remained open, fixed on the ceiling, as she wondered what had become of her life. This was not what she had envisioned eleven years earlier when she walked down the aisle.

  It wasn’t even close.

  And whether he knew it or not, Jim was making it awfully difficult for her to keep her mind off of Dylan.

  “I can’t believe how cold it got,” Dylan said as they walked through his front door.

  “Welcome to Virginia in the winter,” Melissa replied. “It can be fifty degrees one day and below freezing the next. It’s actually been pretty mild the last few weeks. It may have given you a false sense of security about Virginia winters.”

  “I think it did,” he said emphatically. “I should have worn a coat.”

  Melissa placed the bag she’d brought on the table. “I hope you like steak, because that’s what’s for dinner tonight.”

  “Is that a joke?”

  She looked up at him. “No…why?”

  “Steak is, like, the best dinner ever.”

  “I’m glad you think so. We’ve got some twice baked potatoes and broccoli with cheese sauce to go with it. Oh—and I made you another pie. Apple, this time.”

  “Oh my God,” he replied. “You’re spoiling me.”

  “That’s the idea,” she told him. “I want you to see how nice life outside of prison can be—so you can be inspired to stay out of prison.”

  “Oh, l definitely want to stay out of prison. It’s hell in there.” After grabbing some silverware and plates, he brought everything to the table and sat down.

  “It’s that bad?”

  “It’s awful.”

  She stabbed a piece of steak with a fork and moved it over to her plate. “Then why do you keep doing things that will get you sent back there?”

  “Stupidity,” he replied with a laugh. “Seriously, though, I guess I do that stuff because I figure I won’t get caught. I have to say, I smoked a bunch of times while on probation before I actually got snagged. I’d pretty much been smoking since the day I got out.”