by Fiona Murphy
***
Chris
The first week in Phoenix, we settle into an easy schedule. I’m up early, we have breakfast together, then I head to the park to practice in preparation for the spring training games. Amelia spends time in the pool during the day, she loves it. She believes it helps strengthen her leg. I love watching her swim naked, her confidence growing every day.
When we start playing she comes out to watch, sitting with the other wives and girlfriends who come out. She fits in easily with them, her relief palpable when she tells me everyone is nice to her.
She takes to cooking dinner, sneaking in pasta some nights then challenging me to work it out on her body. I’m not sure if it’s the sun or the warm weather, but she’s happier than she’s ever been. She glows like the sun, so bright sometimes my eyes hurt staring at her. The cameras take note as they follow us around.
The day before Travis and Regina come to stay, I’m in the car on the way to practice when I get a call. It’s the Baltimore number again. I send it to voice mail, and again whoever it is doesn’t leave one. When I get to the park I look up the number but find nothing. Giving in to curiosity, I call the number.
With the very first ring it goes to voice mail. Whoever it is didn’t record an outgoing message either, it’s a robot voice giving the number. I can’t shake off the feeling this isn’t good. Only I don’t know what to do about it. The next time the person calls, I’ll pick up. Except they call two hours later when I’m on the field and my phone is in my locker. No message.
I’m already on edge when Travis and Regina come to stay for a long weekend, and I get even crankier when Amelia has to buy a swimsuit. They love her within minutes. Amelia and Travis talk law. Regina talks about when I was younger, and Amelia hangs on every word. Regina also instigates our first argument.
I’m exhausted, there were more errors in the game than there should have been. I was bummed not to have Amelia in the stands, but she’d stayed outside for too long and gotten heat sick. Another thing I wasn’t happy over, she needed to take better care of herself.
Then I walk in the door to find Amelia’s hair six inches shorter than when I left. I don’t say a word when Regina asks me if I like it. I just go into our bedroom and slam the door. I throw myself on the bed, working to control my frustration.
Amelia creeps into the room. “You hate it.”
I shake my head. “I just don’t like it as much as I liked it longer. I can’t believe you cut it without talking to me. You know how much I love your hair.”
“That’s why I did it. I knew you’d talk me out of it. Don’t be mad. It was so hard to take care of, no more half hour of flat ironing. It was also really heavy, and it gave me headaches sometimes. It’s still long.”
She climbs on the bed, timidly. I’m a fucker. She was right, I would have tried to talk her out of it. With all the reasons she gave it would have been wrong for me to. I remember her talking about the headaches as I brushed her hair out some nights, loving the feel of the silk in my hands. I had no right to keep her from doing what was best for her, as long as it didn’t hurt her. I look up at her as she bends down over me. It is still long, brushing her shoulders, I reach out to grasp a handful.
Her eyes go wide, her pupils dilate, she loves it when I get rough. I love being able to be rough. My other hand goes over her neck. She’s lost weight, though I know she isn’t trying. Between swimming every day and the better eating, it’s happened naturally.
Grasping the front of the sundress she is wearing, I give a hard tug and it tears easily, leaving her bare, she isn’t wearing a bra. She moans as my hand goes down from her neck to cup a precious tit. I love her tits, fuck, they are so responsive. I’m only not bitching about her weight because her breasts haven’t changed. Actually, that’s bullshit, I’m not bitching because I love Amelia in any form she takes. I know she’s gone down at least another size, but it doesn’t matter. She still has curves, thank fuck, and she’s happy with her body, that’s the only thing that matters.
I pull her down to me, using her hair to guide her. Fucking her mouth until she’s moaning, I smile when I see she’s dazed. “You know, it was very naughty of me to cut my hair knowing you weren’t going to like it. I think I deserve a spanking. I’m sure the problem is it’s been weeks since you last spanked me.”
“Hmm...I think you’re right. You cut off what? Six inches.” She nods. “So six swats.”
Biting her lip, she sighs. “I think it’s best to make sure I’ve learned my lesson. Two times for each inch would help me remember.”
“Twelve it is, bad girl.” I flip her over then yank her down to the edge of the bed, with her ass hanging down. Tearing off her panties, I love the way her ass quivers in anticipation. I know she’s already clenching her pussy deep inside. “Count them off.”
***
Amelia
Oh thank god, he’s not mad at me. Both Regina and I knew he wouldn’t be happy with the haircut. I knew how much he loved my hair, when we laid together he usually had a hand in it. He’s brushed it often, his pleasure clear. I also remember him giving Regina an angry look the time she suggested cutting it the first day they arrived, when I complained about the heat.
I love Regina; she’s nice, funny, and it’s clear she loves and cares about Chris. On only her second day in Phoenix, she sat me down and told me about the horrible two women in Chris’s life who had been dumb enough to turn him down. I think about us out by the pool while Chris and Travis prepped the ribs to go on the grill.
“You love him.” It’s not a question.
“I do.” I don’t blush, don’t hesitate, as I stare at him through the glass door.
“He loves you too. You wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.”
I blink, damn it. I wipe the tears away. I’d hoped, between the kitchen remodel and what he said when he gave me the tickets, I’d hoped really hard. “It’s early days. He could come to his senses.”
“Don’t even go there. He would be lucky to have you. He knows that. Chris doesn’t fall for just anyone. You impress my husband, and Travis isn’t easy to impress. You have Chris wrapped around your finger and you don’t even know it.” I do? He did give in easily to the joke paint color of pink before I showed him the real color. She laughs. “If you walked in there right now and said you wanted something, he’d move mountains to make it happen. I’m glad you recognize you’re lucky too.
“You just have to be patient. You might also need to be the one to propose when the time comes. He’ll kill me if he finds out I’m telling you this, but I think it’s important for you to know why he’s going to be gun-shy about sealing the deal. He’s already asked two women to marry him, and they turned him down. They told him they wanted more than just a bad boy, that what they had was just for fun. It’s why he stuck to strippers and no strings. He needs to know you want him for more than his reputation, for the real him.”
I was in shock. One, that any woman was stupid enough to turn him down, and two, that Chris could be vulnerable. It’s not just his immense size, it’s how he never seems to get emotional about anything except how much he loves my body during sex. I’m reminded of his bitterness the day he accused me of taking from him without giving back, of using him because of his bad boy image. I wasn’t the only who got banged up in relationships; I’m glad Regina made sure I knew that.
There’s no warning before his big hand comes down. Ow. “One.” I bite my lip so as not to yell. “Two.” Sonofabitch, my ass is already burning. “Three.” What the hell was I thinking asking for twelve? “Four.” Okay, maybe he was madder than he let on. “Five.” Oh, there it is the sweet spot when the pain becomes so intense it mingles with pleasure. “Six.” It’s a moan as my pussy begins to work in time with the smack. “Seven.” I want to beg for it to come faster. “Eight.” So good. “Nine.” I need him to fuck me right now. “Ten.” Faster, my pussy works to ride the wave of pain. “Eleven.” Yes, oh, oh fuck yes. “Twelve.” I pant.
Chris flips me over onto my back and I welcome his roughness, hungry for him to take me over. His wicked smile shows me both dimples as he pushes down his jeans. When he goes to the bedside table I shiver in anticipation. He’d threatened it before, and now he’s making good. He pulls out the vibrator, lubing it up. I tremble in anticipation, as I cup my breasts, playing with my tight nipples while his eyes roam over me in approval.
Rough hands grab around my ankles, pulling me to the edge of the bed then up his body. Oh god, he’s lubing his cock. Wait, oh so good, Chris pushes into my ass with a fierce stroke that sends him deep inside me. With the skin of my ass still on fire, the world blurs for a moment at the combined pain inside and out. I gasp when I feel the vibrator push inside my pussy as deep as it can go. Oh my fucking god.
“Ah, sugar, I am your fucking god. You like it, Amelia. You love it, my cock in your ass, the vibrator in your pussy. Hold on, we’re just getting started.”
I arch off the bed as he turns on the vibrator, then holds it in place as he fucks my ass leisurely, as if he has all damn day. This isn’t good, this isn’t amazing, this is awe-fucking inspiring. I sob as he turns off the vibrator then pounds my ass for so long I’m close to my orgasm, so close, then he stops and I scream.
“That’s it, scream for me.” He chuckles as he goes still then begins fucking the vibrator in and out of me slowly, teasing me with it. He’s keeping me on the knife’s edge. I can’t, I need it. A press of the button and it hums low inside me as he keeps fucking me slowly with it. Then he begins thrusting inside me, faster and faster. Groaning my name, he presses another button, increasing the hum sending my back off the bed, trying to impale myself on him. Harder, rougher, so much more.
I explode with a scream, and from far away I hear Chris groan my name. The molten heat of him coming shocks my body, causing bone-wracking shudders through me, turning the world black.
22
Amelia
I’m in the library trying to settle into a book, but I can’t focus. It was a rough month for April, the weather was shit in Chicago and throughout the Midwest. There haven’t been so many games postponed in over a decade. May is slowly looking better. While Chris spent more time in Chicago, which was nice, and he’ll be home for an eight-day stretch when he gets back from St. Louis in two days, he’ll have to play eleven games in ten days by the end of the month. Then to top it off we had the kitchen remodel while he was stuck inside. For three days we didn’t have a sink or stove yet he never got cranky. We ate out a lot, we hid in the bedroom and we made love often. I never thought the remodel would go fast and so smoothly but it’s done.
He left yesterday to play in St. Louis tonight. I wanted to go with him, but Holly is due any day and I don’t want to be away from her and Ethan. Even though he wasn’t happy, Chris understood.
I consider calling Catherine to check on her. Talking to her is so much fun, every time she has something different to tell me about Chris when he was younger. Her love for him is so clear. It was really disappointing when she canceled her visit to Phoenix because of the death of her best friend the day before she was due to fly out. However, she promised Chris with her friend passing there wasn’t really much left for her in Dallas, and once the season was over she would be happy to move to Chicago. The plan is for her to come out and visit in the first week of June when Chris will be in town. We’ll make plans then for her moving up.
I’m fighting the urge not to go check on the men working in the backyard again. I was shocked when I woke up two weeks ago to jackhammers. For some crazy reason I thought it was our kitchen remodel hitting a snag. And they knew not to start working before ten o’clock it was completely rude and we would look like the asshole who hired them to start before ten in the morning. Chris laughed and said sorry, but if I wanted a pool there was a price to pay. I’d run downstairs to look out the back door and see them tearing up our backyard.
Chris had purchased the house behind us, so he could have enough room for an in-ground heated pool to be built with a large glass enclosure, with doors like the ones leading out to the backyard in the house we rented in Scottsdale.
When he showed me the plans, I had a hard time not crying. Then he hugged me close as he whispered he loved seeing me happy playing in the pool in Arizona. He didn’t want to go another day without seeing me that happy again. I’m still stunned he bought a million-dollar house just for the backyard. When I asked him what he was going to do with the house, he said if Catherine liked it then it would be hers, and if not then he would figure it out later.
I couldn’t hold back my tears. They didn’t last long, though, when Chris asked if it had earned him getting his cock sucked on a daily basis. Laughing, I told him it did as I led him back upstairs and pushed him down to deliver. It was like Regina said, Chris was willing to give me anything I wanted, even when I didn’t ask for it. Would that include his heart, and forever?
The doorbell rings, startling me. I look down at Chris’s oversized shirt I’m wearing to keep him close while he’s away and my yoga pants. I’m not wearing a bra though. Peeking out the door I see it’s a woman holding a baby carrier. It’s cool out today. I whip open the door, not wanting her or the baby to get cold.
She’s very pretty, small, curvy; she appears Hispanic, her dark black hair in a pixie cut. The baby is tightly covered with a blanket. “You Amelia Bishop.”
It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “Yes?”
“This is Simone Baldwin. She’s Chris’s baby. He needs to step up to his responsibilities. You all can see what it’s like taking care of a baby with no help. You all got a week, take that time, do your stupid little tests, then you all decide. I’m getting my money. You all want to keep her, it’s fine with me, but there’s a price and it’s high. You don’t want to keep her, then you all will be paying for it for the next eighteen years while she gets the life she shoulda got.” She sets the baby inside the doorway, then walks away without another word.
Baby? Chris’s baby? What the fuck? I clutch my stomach as it spins hard. The world blurs at the tears from the pain that spreads through my entire body. The carrier moves, and a weak cry comes from beneath the covers. I’m down on my knees, carefully pulling the blanket away. Bright blue eyes stare up at me through long lashes, no, then I take in her chin and the dimple in one cheek. It’s Chris’s. He has a baby.
A gust of wind blows through the open door, and the baby shivers. On autopilot I close the door then pick up the carrier, taking it into the office and putting it on the ottoman. Aren’t babies supposed to be happier or fussier? She’s just sitting in the carrier, looking at me as if she’s trying to figure out who I am. She doesn’t look like she expects to be picked up, although she doesn’t really look happy in the carrier.
I’ve never really been a baby person for the simple reason I wasn’t around them very much. Since I started working with the legal clinic over the last two years I’ve had more interaction with them, and I found out I adore holding babies, the chunkier the better. Their soft little bodies snuggling up to you, the smell of them, the feel of their downy soft hair. The gummy little smiles they give you when you tell them how cute they are.
This baby..., Simone, her name is Simone. Simone isn’t smiling, she isn’t chubby. I remember vividly one woman I helped in the legal clinic saying she didn’t trust mothers who didn’t have chubby, happy babies. All babies should be chubby, then as they moved around and got older the baby fat fell away, she explained at my surprise. Simone is pretty darn thin, and she definitely doesn’t look happy. Unease builds inside me as I study her.
An urge I can’t suppress has me reaching out to touch her cheek. She flinches, and my stomach turns. No, no fucking way did she flinch from a touch. As I process the meaning behind the movement, tears flow fast and hard. The pretty woman had hard, empty eyes. Her casual way of saying we could keep Simone haunts me, as if the baby was nothing more than an item to be bartered instead of a living, breathing hum
an being.
I snatch my phone up, but I don’t call Chris, I don’t call Holly, or even Ethan. I call Angie, the stripper, who took me under her wing the night in the club. It’s only two in the afternoon, and she answers right away. “Hey, Amelia, how are you doing?”
My eyes on the baby, I swallow. “I’ve been better. I was wondering, Chris mentioned an incident with a stripper, I have to assume it was at your club. He said she tried to set up him up to get her pregnant. Do you know anything about that?”
She sighs. “Yeah, that’s Triana, Triana isn’t her real name though, it’s Theresa Kirby. She came out to Chicago from, I think, Laurel Park, Maryland with a boyfriend who promised her the world then dumped her when she got knocked up. After the abortion she ended up here, trying to get enough money to go home.” I’m up grabbing a pen and a notebook and taking notes. “The thing she pulled with Chris wasn’t the first time she did it. Another stripper, Candice, pulled it once on a basketball player, get yourself knocked up then make them pay for the abortion. It got Candice fired.
“Theresa pulled it, she got twenty-five thousand. She tried it again, the guy wouldn’t pay, said he was happy to have another kid. Theresa didn’t want a kid, so she paid for the abortion on her own. She ended up talking to Candice, who told Theresa she would make more money in the long run by keeping the baby and getting paid for eighteen years instead of just one. After the thing with Chris didn’t work, Theresa left town, her parents paid to send her a ticket back home.”
