by Xavier Neal
My eyes lock onto hers. “Well, let me reassure you that you didn't lose anything while on hiatus. That was....without a doubt, the best sex I've ever had and I once spent three days having tantric sex with a yoga instructor.”
Very bendy. Very exhausting.
“You're full of shit. No ordinary bedroom sex could ever beat yoga instructor sex. Not possible.”
“First of all, that was far from ordinary for me and second, it was hot, but it still couldn't touch the frame of what happened between us.” The color spreads in her cheeks and I coo, “You're even more beautiful when you're blushing.”
“I'm not blushing.”
“You're so blushing.”
“I'm...I'm...I'm....” She sips her coffee to mask the rest of the fluster.
“Plans today?”
“Um...” June pulls her thick, wavy hair to one side of her face. The subtle action results in the framing of her bare face.
So that's the look Dad was talking about....Damn. He wasn't wrong about it being the best.
“I don't....I don't think so. Calendar is somewhere, I should check or could check, but...” She rambles off to herself. “I would remember if there was. Don't remember anything on today's checklist aside from the gym...which is probably not necessary now.”
The last comment causes me to grin again. “Wanna spend the day with me?”
“Doing what?” When I wiggle my eyebrows she places her coffee cup down. “Oh...” Playfully, she retorts, “I'm pretty sure I won't mind that filling my schedule.”
I abandon my cup of coffee and make my way around to her. Just steps away, the sound of a phone ringing begins.
Immediately she flies into a panic. “Shit!”
Unsure of why the sudden change in disposition, I calmly question, “Is that important?”
“That's your aunt's ring tone!” She replies as she frantically searches for where it's coming from. June stumbles away from me and does her best to follow the noise while avoiding a concussion from tripping over basically everything.
You know what's weird? She's graceful as fuck in bed. We're talking Prima Ballerina. Part of me wonders if that's because she escapes her own head while lost in the covers.
“Found it!” June shrieks seconds before answering, “This is June.”
I lean against the edge of the bar and watch as she nods while starting the process of collecting her things.
That's not good.
“Sure! Yeah! Of course I can totally pick that up for you.”
Displeased with being cock blocked by my aunt of all people, I fold my arms across my chest.
“I can pick that up too. I'll bring 'em by the office. Okay is that red quinoa or white? Sure. Mmmhm. See you in a bit.” June ends the call and rushes for her shoe in the living room. “I have to go. Your aunt needs-”
“Wants.”
“-me to pick up a couple of things for her trip tomorrow and brunch apparently.”
“What trip?”
“They're taking a family vacation with your cousins to some island.”
I am a bit jealous that even as successful adults they still manage to do shit like that. Sometimes I wonder if Dad were still alive if we would. Try not to think like that too often. The slope of what if’s and what could've beens is much too dangerous and much too ugly for anyone to enjoy.
I slowly move towards her. “Does that mean you'll be free that entire time?”
“Should be, but I'll double check my lists and the calendar,” she comments quickly as my body bumps against hers. June looks at me over her shoulder from where she was beginning to get dressed beside the couch. My hands snake around to the front of my shirt resulting in a tremor in her voice. “Wh-wha-what do you think you're doing?”
I whisper in her ear and undue a button. “Helping...”
The moment the shirt is opened, I slip it off her shoulders, and toss it to the side. I slide my fingers down and graze her wet clit. She moans softly but objects, “I....I have to get to work, Tucker.”
My teeth gently clamp down on her earlobe grabbing a squeak from her. In a hot whisper I state, “Then I'll make this one quick.”
Keeping true to my word, I pull the condom out of the paint stained gym shorts I was wearing, yank it open with my teeth, roll it on and bend June over the edge of the leather couch. After nudging her legs apart, I tear through the slick, heat with a sharp thrust. Her body immediately arches back into the motion. With one hand nestled between her thighs, stroking her clit for extra support in expediting an orgasm, and the other gripping her shoulder, I bounce her back against my eager cock. The edacious motion combined with the shameless begging for more only seems to make my dick greedier than it was last night. Her head falls backwards adding visual perfection to the carnal carving my cock is delivering. June's orgasm begins to milk one from me and I yank her body upward to swallow the symphony of moans.
I can definitely do this a couple more weeks. Hell, I could probably do this for a life time...Too bad our lives won't mesh as freely as our bodies do.
June
My sore body reluctantly continues to power walk.
Working out while having sex with Tucker is stupid. Having sex with Tucker is a workout. That's gotta be the real reason he's built like that. Nonstop Olympic qualifying sex would keep anyone fit and toned around the clock.
The idea of Tucker with other women causes me to grunt.
Look, I know he's not a virgin or anything. Doesn't mean I like the idea of his bedroom life being as colorful as his passport, even if he says I'm the best he's ever had. What if that's a giant lie? I'm convinced it is. Yup. A giant, well-crafted lie.
“You think too hard,” Jaye sighs from the treadmill beside me.
Why do people keeping say that to me?
“Seriously. I mean, I can feel your head hurting from over here.”
I playfully stick my tongue out at her.
“Boss been keeping you too busy to go have a drink with me and Archer?”
“More like the boss' nephew.”
“Right.” Jaye points a finger at me. “You were supposed to keep him company or something?”
“Or something is right,” I mumble.
Should we tell her?
It only takes a moment before her eyes widen and gasps. “No...”
I quietly argue, “It just...sort of happened.”
“Just once?”
“Fine, it sorta just keeps happening.” Jaye breaks out into a fit of giggles and my mouth runs away from me much faster than I can move the rest of my body in this state. “I don't know, it's just so hard to resist him! He's charming. And sweet. And romantic. Plus we both love art and the sex is Dear Penthouse worthy and I don't know Jaye, there's something about him, I really really like.”
She hits me with a wide smirk. “I can tell by your inability to stop smiling.”
“Oh you were the same way when you started dating Archer!”
She winks. “Exactly.”
I roll my eyes and increase the speed a bit.
No. She was head over heels for Archer. It was about love and connection and commitment. This is just great sex and a shared interest. It can't be anything more than that even if I want it to. What do you mean we have all those things too?
“Do you believe in Fate?”
“Absolutely.” Jaye nods. “It may not always feel that way when it happens, but I think fate and destiny play an important role in love.”
We can't really be in love yet. It's not possible. No one falls in love this fast. It's...lust or love's second cousin twice removed.
“But...by the expression on your face there's a problem. Is it because he's your boss' nephew?”
That stopped factoring in well before it should've.
I hit her with a hurt expression. “Because he always leaves, Jaye. He doesn't stay in the same city or country for too long, this one in particular is always the shortest except for this time around. Tucker goes wherever his passio
n takes him. I don't wanna get any more attached to what's going on between us than I already am.”
“Can I make a suggestion?”
“As long as it's not have more sex before he goes, because we've really got that covered.”
Would it be bad to ask for a bonus to buy condoms to sleep with my boss' nephew? At least that made you smile.
“Don't deny yourself this moment of happiness because you think there's an expiration date.”
“I know there's one.”
“There's only two things we know for certain in life, June. People live. And people die. That's it. Everything in between carries no certainties. Live in these moments with him like they're gonna last forever. That way...if they don't, at least you know there are no unanswered questions and no regrets.” Her advice just begins to settle when she adds, “And don't let him control everything. You make sure you show him something to remember you by. Ya know...outside of sex.”
Her innocent giggle at the end causes me to join in.
Not bad advice for a preschool librarian. Though, if I can be completely honest, I'm not sure there is anything special about me worth remembering. Doubt he'll even recall my name in a couple months. I'll just be another forgotten piece of art that's been graced to be touched by his fingers. Guess in the mean time I better enjoy the admiration. Before I know it....just like Tucker Frost....it'll be gone.
Tucker
I let my eyes roam around the small room in the back of the art store. While the long tables are empty, the shelves are overflowing with various art supplies and the walls are home to color creations such as painted portraits, skyline sketches, and fascinating 3D designs.
Sitting on the edge of one of the tables, I ask, “What are we doing here?”
“Well,” June starts from behind the desk in the front of the room. “I thought since you've shown me a piece of you, I could do the same.”
Curiosity cocks my eyebrows. “Meaning?”
“When your aunt doesn't need me on Saturday mornings, I host a parent, child art class. It's completely free for them to participate, I volunteer, and the store pays for the supplies of the class. Comes out of their tax deductions plus once we're done here, most kids convince their parents to go buy something to keep the art going at home, making it good for business.”
A smile creeps onto my face. “So you're an art teacher in your spare time?”
“I may completely suck at creating it myself, but I like to think I have a knack for encouraging others. When my sisters were younger, I loved to give them random art supplies and let them go wild. It was controlled chaos. It helped them see the importance of creativity and allowed me to get things done around the house without having to worry about them being bored or becoming T.V. dependent. Sometimes if I needed to pack their lunches before school the next morning, I'd have them sit at the table and doodle, the most outrageous food creation they could think of. Winner would get an extra cookie in their lunch.”
A loud, warm laugh escapes. “What kinda cookie?”
She hits me with a playful look. “Usually an Oreo.”
“I'd work extra hard for that.”
“Well, then, if you impress me during class today, we'll see about getting you an Oreo.”
I wet my lips slowly and challenge, “How about letting me eat a different kind of cookie?”
June's face flushes. “Say things. No. No.” She shakes her head to clear up her thoughts. A deep breath is released before she states, “You can't say things like that when the kids are in the room.”
“I won't. I promise.”
I haven't had my fill of her yet. Sure, we haven't technically been together that long but it doesn't feel that way. No. Every time we're together it feels like life times of passion, devotion, and pure love are simply being rediscovered as opposed to just starting. With most women, after the initial rounds of sex, I enjoy balancing between that and whatever I'm feeling inspired to create, yet with June it seems like the need for her blurs the desires to do anything else. As soon as she's in my presence that's all that matters. And to make it even more odd, I find myself always wanting her in my presence. At the same time the unusual sensation has me smiling and scared shitless. It's moments like this I wish Dad was around to ask for clarification.
All of sudden the sounds of feet begin to fill the room and I glance over my shoulder to check out the cause. Numerous children are dragging their parents in by the hand, practically jumping for joy.
“Hi Miss June!” A little red headed girl greets her as she rushes to the front of the class.
“Hi Chloe,” June replies warmly.
She motions to me to get off the table and points to the opposite corner where I guess she wants me to sit. Following her directions, I do, and then continue to watch the small faces light up from the sight of her alone.
I don't know how she could ever think she's invisible. No one shines that bright from the shadows. Come on. Look at their little faces. They adore her. I would know. I adore her too.
The door shuts and June begins, “Good morning!”
“Morning!” They greet back.
“Who likes Play-doh?” She questions with excitement in her tone.
Hands fly up including my own.
What! You mean to tell me you didn’t like Play-Doh growing up? Sure clay is fun to work with, but Play-Doh always instills the same innocent love of art I used to get when my parents would take me to the art store after tennis lessons, which of course was the compromise I made with them to do art with the rest of my time.
“Well, this is clay, which is not quite like Play-Doh, but can be just as much fun. You and your parents are going to sculpt whatever you want with it and then next week when you come back they'll be ready for us to paint!”
“Wow,” collective voices ring out from around the room.
Hey, I like clay. The messier the better sometimes.
“My assistant is going to help me distribute hunks of air dry clay, which is what we're using. You can also buy this in the store to play with at home. A little more expensive than Play-Doh, but doesn't flake when it's dried with whatever fun creation you've come up with.”
Smooth advertising pitch there.
“Come on, Tucker,” she calls to me.
Realizing I'm the assistant, I hop up, and follow her to the containers she's collected.
As we begin placing them in front of the pairs, June states, “Feel free to make as many designs as you like or as few. Think big or small. Art is about expressing yourself, so do that. Most importantly, have fun!”
By the time we're finished distributing clay, there's one tub left in my hands.
“That one is for you.”
“You're not gonna make anything?”
“I told you when we first met and again before class started, I can't. I lack the skill, but that doesn't mean I enjoy working with artists any less.” My mouth twitches to argue, which is when she points back to the seat where I was before. “Now go make me something so I have a little something to remember you by when you leave.”
The sadness in her tone is apparent despite her best efforts.
Never hated the idea of leaving someone behind as much as I am at this very moment.
Nodding, I stroll back over to my seat, which is on the other side of a father and son combo.
The man gives me a short wave and immediately turns back to his son who exclaims, “A T-Rex. Raawwwrrrrr.”
Amused by the sound effects of the child who can't be more than four, I pull out my own clay and continue to listen.
“Let's make a dinosaur egg, Dad!” The boy continues to gush. “A baby T-Rex egg! Rawwwwwwwrrrr!”
“Sure,” the man agrees and gives his son's hair a ruffle. “Whatever you want, Tommy.” Just as my fingers begin rolling around the material, he leans over and whispers, “My wife makes me do this. Says it's good bonding or something. She says Tommy's probably never going to be a sports kid and I should just embrace his oth
er attributes.”
Remembering a conversation my own mother once had with my father like that, I nod. “I'd have to agree. When I was Tommy's age, I couldn't care about sports if you bribed me. As I grew up it never really changed. Sometimes some of us are just born knowing what we wanna do. I think nurturing those loves from an early age is a great thing. I think it's a responsible parenting choice.”
