by Deena Bright
“Mom, you’re kidding, right? You guys were great parents, are great parents.” I hated that she thought otherwise. Granted, she did leave me nine years ago. However, I was beginning to come to terms with it.
“You kids had a nice, privileged life. But, I should’ve been introducing you to more, other cultures, other lifestyles, teaching you acceptance, showing you the world.” She brushed the pieces of my hair that had fallen from my side pony-tail. “If I’d shown you more, you wouldn’t have married the first idiot who proposed.” She shook her head and grabbed my hand.
“Janelle, look at me,” she lifted my chin. “You deserve someone perfect; someone who finishes your puzzle and without him, you’re just another misplaced game, lost and worthless.” I’d never seen her so serious, never heard her speak with such wisdom before. “Joz has that with Rick; I have it with your dad. You never had that with Marcus.” She was staring at me, waiting.
“I know; I think I always knew.” I started crying. “It just hurts; I was so wrong.”
“It hurts, hurts badly, but it won’t kill you.” She took a deep breath, searching for courage, searching for the words. After a long pause and a courageous sigh, she said, “Your dad cheated on me when we were first married.” She dropped the bomb on me. What? No way. That couldn’t be true. I stared at her in disbelief. I’d never heard this before.
“Just let me get this out. It hurt, hurt worse than having a baby, having three babies, because emotional hurt is more excruciatingly painful than physical pain.” She stopped, got up and stood facing me, putting her hands on my shoulders. “I thought my world had ended. But your dad, he was, Hell, he is my world, the love of my life. What he did broke my heart, but it didn’t break us.” She explained.
I didn’t remember a time when my mom was so forthcoming, so filled with raw honesty. “But mom, didn’t you feel like a failure forgiving a man who cheated on you?” My father did not seem like an adulterer. His world revolved around my mom. Maybe it hadn’t always. They had a story, a story that maybe I didn’t know all the parts to.
She smiled and shook her head, “Forgiving him didn’t make me weak. My pain and anger were making me weak.” She smiled, her eyes becoming distant. “But I knew I had to forgive him. I loved him,” she said, her face lighting up.
She looked like a teenager, talking about her new boyfriend. Then, her face fell again, shaking her head, “But with you and Marcus, it’s different,” she said softly. “You don’t have to, don’t need to.” She put both of her hands on my face, forcing me to look at her again, “The main difference is, I knew I’d grow old with your dad, you’ve never felt that for Marcus. Your dad was worthy of forgiveness, Marcus isn’t.” She seemed so sure of herself, her words.
She was right; I knew that. I wasn’t toying with the idea of forgiving him; that’s absurd. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Marcus was never the missing piece to the puzzle of my life. Truthfully, we hardly fit together at all. I had clung to him when my parents left, and let’s face it, he really wasn’t all that supportive then either. Funny how my mom called it missing a puzzle piece, I loved doing puzzles. Used to beg Marcus to join me, help me finish one. He never did. Literally and metaphorically, he never finished my puzzles.
My mother and I took a cab back to our hotel, sat in the lobby on a comfy couch, and talked into the wee hours of the night. I’d never felt closer to her, and yet, she lived thousands of miles away now. It was strange how much maturation and experience changed a person, creating growth and strength. My mom was stronger and more enlightened than I’d ever known her to be. I always wanted to be like her (up until she left), because all little girls basically want to be like their mom. When she packed up and left; I dropped that notion, but now? Now, I knew exactly why I wanted to be like her. She was smart, forgiving (when deserving), tolerant, giving, courageous, helpful, and there for me when I needed her the most. Although I hated that she would fly back to my father in New Guinea the next day, I wasn’t bitter or angry for her decision or desire to do so.
Chapter Twenty
When I crawled into my bed, I couldn’t believe how peaceful I felt. Sometimes, a mother’s support and wisdom was all anyone ever needed. As I was getting comfortable, I realized that I hadn’t gotten my phone out of my purse all day or night, hadn’t looked at it once. That had to be some sort of record for me. I laid in bed trying to decide if I really needed to get up, get it out, check it, and plug it in to the charger. The bed was so cozy and relaxing, getting up seemed inane. But, I hadn’t checked Facebook all day or my calls or messages. I rolled over and decided to just forget it, something to look forward to in the morning. I laid there, thinking about last night, thinking about my mom, but mainly thinking about how I needed to get up and get my phone. Damn. I was technology’s bitch.
Char and Jocelyn had both sent me messages. Jocelyn left a worried message, saying that since she hadn’t heard from me she was forced to call the airline and check on my flight. Then, she left another message more pissed off, because Sarah had sent a text to Jasper saying that they landed safely and things were going well. Did Jocelyn know Sarah too? What was going on? Was I really that wrapped up in my life with Marcus that my family had been existing without me? I needed to make a point to spend more time with them, being more present in their lives. My family was too important, too integral to avoid creating memories with them.
Briggs texted me four times. I like that he had been thinking about me, enough to text me four times in a row. I felt my ego boost, if that was possible. I knew it couldn’t be my heart fluttering. I opened his texts:
Crazy how ice can be so hot.
What? You dont think that oxymoron is ironic?
Really? Im throwing ur words at ya and no response?
Janelle, call me. Whats going on?
It was 4:40 a.m., I couldn’t possibly call him. So, I sent him a quick text:
Easy Briggs, someone might think you’re worrying about her. It was a busy day. Crazy, but this is the first time I’ve even looked at my phone in over 24 hours. New personal record.
I decided to text Char and Joz too; I didn’t want them any more pissed off at me. I sent a group text, telling them that I was fine and looking forward to seeing them soon. I also sent Char another text saying that I one-upped her and would tell her all about. I rather liked that I did something Char had never done, even though it was quite minimal. It was something, a start. My cell dinged.
I was buggin’ baby, thinking you ditched me for some New Yorker. Normally, I hated generic terms of endearment, but with Briggs, they worked, which in turn made them work for me. He could call me “baby” anytime.
I tried, but nobody was interested. What’re you doing up? He didn’t strike me as the type of person who woke up every time a text came in. I’d slept next to him; he slept like a rock.
Been tryin but I was worried about you. Ur on my mind. Well huh, didn’t see that coming. He was losing sleep, because he hadn’t heard from me? I knew that shouldn’t make me happy, crazy happy, but it did. I liked that he had been thinking about me, wanted him to think about me.
What were you thinking about, Briggs? I knew what I was doing, but I wanted to egg him on.
Are we really gonna go there? I liked his caution, but I wasn’t looking for careful treading right now.
Yes Briggs, we’re really gonna go there, only if you think you can find the words and handle it, the heat, the phone and whatever else you may need to “handle.” It certainly paid off being an English teacher, having such a grasp of the English language, using words and wordplay to my advantage.
Janelle, I can handle it, just like I’m gonna handle you tomorrow night. And yes, tomorrow night. This waitin shits over. You want me to be slow, whack slow, Im gonna take so long; youre gonna wish you never taught me such restraint. I wont stop til youve reached three orgasms. At least. Then, Im gonna fuck you harder and hotter than any man has ever done before. It amazed me how much I still wanted him even
without the use of that damn apostrophe that I normally felt so strongly about. This must be what my students call “sexting,” because it felt as hot as the real thing.
Well Mr. Alexander, I’m going to hold you to those promises, but I’m going to need a little more description and details in your texts. I’d like to know exactly what you have planned for me tomorrow night. Don’t just tell me, show me, use specific language, please. He piqued my curiosity, among many other things. I’d never fall asleep now without a little help, without release. He could get me going from zero to 100 in just a few sentences, well fragments.
Baby, that aint happening. Sorry to disappoint. I want you so hot, so wet, and ready when I see you. You better not touch one inch of that sexy body tonight. I want you ready to explode, dying to fuck me, begging to have me. What? He wasn’t going to talk dirty to me, so I could finger myself silly? That sucked.
Hey Buddy, who’s calling the shots here? Maybe tomorrow night is just gonna be a pipe dream for you. I could type what I wanted, but he and I both knew the truth. There wouldn’t be any more foreplay, no more fooling around. It was time for some hot, heavy deep-dicking.
I am now. You had your turn. Youre gonna be beggin for my pipe. I already am, Briggs. I already am.
Ha! That was funny. When did you get to be such a good, detailed writer and when did you get witty? I don’t remember that in class. He really was full of surprises, really was.
There are many secrets you don’t know about me. Cant wait to show you though. I do like when youre callin the shots. So hot. I got a little fantasy involving you, a ruler, and me being a very bad boy. Another time though. Think of me. See you tomorrow sexy. It was so unlike me, but I could really get used to being referred to as “sexy” and “baby.” I guess when nobody refers to you with any sort of endearment, you start to really want it, miss it, need it. I really needed and wanted much of what Briggs was offering up. Phew…it was going to be a long time until tomorrow night. I made a mental note to keep my hands away from myself; I was saving it all up for him, just like he asked.
Goodnight Briggs. Think of me. I’m lonely in this big bed all by myself wearing just a teeny-tiny hot pink thong. All alone. Take that! I had on mismatched pajamas. The shirt was an old concert t-shirt of some band that Char used to dig. The bottoms were Brutus Buckeye flannels. But, I could always pretend…
Fuck Fuck was right, and I couldn’t wait. For real this time.
******
After saying “goodbye,” to my mom, Sarah and I grabbed a quick breakfast before heading to the airport. Sarah had funny stories to relay about the night before. A few men started chatting her up, getting her drinks all night long. After being pretty tipsy, she broke the news to them that they weren’t getting anywhere with her for obvious reasons. Sarah was shocked that they didn’t just pack up and look elsewhere. Instead, they laughed, talked, and drank more, ending up at a Gentlemen’s club, aka strip club, where they paid dollar after dollar watching her get lap dances from various women. The men, from Austin, Texas, told her to look them up if she were ever in the Lonestar state. They all exchanged numbers, and parted ways. Sarah could make friends anywhere, quickly. I admired that about her, but more importantly cherished it about her. I was glad to have her as a friend. At least it wasn’t wrong or frowned upon to befriend former students.
On the flight home, nearing our destination, Sarah asked, “What’s going on? You’ve had a shit-eating grin all morning. Spill.” I told her all about my texts with Briggs, and our plan for the night.
“Yes! You’ve gotta call me tomorrow. Details, lots of them.” I laughed and told her that I couldn’t understand why she’d want details of straight sex. “Sex is sex; the stories are always hot. Don’t you ever read or watch girl-on-girl porn?”
“Uh no!” I didn’t watch porn; women didn’t do that. Did they?
“Man Janelle, MISS GARRITY,” she said with sarcastic emphasis. “You have so much to learn.” Then, as we touched down, rather bumpily, I might add, she looked at me and said, “Hey! Didn’t you drug up for this flight?”
Amazing. I had been so caught up in telling Sarah about my night with my mom, about listening to her stories, and let’s face it, thinking about the upcoming events with Briggs, I hadn’t even remembered to be terrified of the flight. Wow. Mind over matter.
Chapter Twenty-One
I was just about to pour myself a glass of wine and maybe gather up a few hors d’oeuvres in case Briggs needed some energy for the night when there was knock at the door. I yelled, “It’s open,” and Briggs came in. I turned to wave at him, as I opened the refrigerator, getting the cheese cubes I’d sliced earlier.
“Baby, it’s been too long since I’ve seen that face and touched that body.” He walked straight over to me, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me back against him. His body was solid, warm, and I couldn’t wait to explore every inch of it.
“Briggs, my hands are full.” I said, as he pushed me against the open fridge, with a cheese-tray in one hand and with my other hand on the door. His body was strong and hard against my back. His breath was warm on the back of my neck. He brushed my hair away from my neck and kissed my lower neck and shoulder, working his way to my ears. I moaned at his touch. The front of my body pressed against the refrigerator shelf as his hands were eagerly caressing and exploring the flesh of my breasts. The cold sensation of the shelves and the heat from Briggs’ hands and body was heating me up even more. I shoved the tray back into the fridge and put my hand between us, reaching to touch him, to feel him. He was hard, ready. I purred when I felt him, loving that just seconds of being in a room with me created such a desire in him.
“I can’t wait another second.” He whispered in to my ear, licking along my ear’s edge. His breath was hot, the air in the fridge was cool. Still reaching around me, he slipped his hands in to my pants, finding the center of my desire. “You’re so fucking sexy, so wet.” He groaned in to my ear. He began circling my clit in soft featherlike motions; I pushed back against him, needing him to hold me for support. He slipped one finger in to me, then another; I moaned.
“Oh God…Briggs…yes,” I whimpered as he began rubbing my clit again. He moved his fingers, manipulating me faster. Slipping another finger back inside of me, I whined in protest, not wanting him to prolong this any longer. I wanted release, needed it. He chuckled, removing his finger, dipping it in to my mouth. I licked and sucked his finger, emulating the motions of sucking his penis. Tasting myself on his fingers turned me on even more; I needed this man. He sensed my desire, my eagerness.
“Don’t hold back Janelle,” he whispered as he found my clit again, massaging it faster with abandon. I moaned. He said, “Come on baby, I wanna fuck you.” I couldn’t take it any longer. I braced myself against him, rotating and pushing my hips harder against his hands, as I cried out with a fast, intense orgasm. He held me as I caught my breath and regained my balance and composure. He kissed my neck, sucking flesh into his mouth.
“I’m not even close to being done with you yet,” he said as he turned me around, and kissed me passionately. With his mouth on mine, he lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. He was so strong. Our mouths explored each other’s lips, tongues, necks, and chests.
Briggs put me down on the kitchen counter and stood back, admiring me, taking me in as I sat awaiting his next move. “Raise your arms,” he demanded. I eagerly complied. With one swift motion, my shirt was off and his hands were on my breasts. Smiling, he said, “Nice bra.” Online last week, I searched all over the internet until I found a teacher-related bra and panty set. And teacher-related it was. It was white with red apples all over it, inside the apples were yellow A+ signs.
“I’m glad you like it; I may have had you in mind when I bought it.” I licked my lips and stared into his crystal blue eyes as I unhooked the small red apple clasp, opening my bra, exposing my breasts to him.
“Like it a lot,” he said as he kneaded the flesh of my b
reasts. He took my nipple into his mouth and sucked it lightly. I held his head against my chest, enjoying the sensation of his mouth on me. He moved to the other breast, still rolling the bud of my other nipple between his large fingers.
Putting my hands on the bottom hem of his shirt, I removed it. I could stare at his body’s perfection for days. I licked his chest, running my nails along his stomach and abs. Kissing my path back up to his mouth, I found his lips and our tongues met again. The feel of his hard body and powerful chest against my breasts and hard nipples was sending me over the edge. “Oh Briggs, I want you.” There was no turning back now.
“Lie back,” he commanded. I acquiesced. Briggs unbuttoned my jeans with one hand, as the other continued to explore my nipples and breasts. Moving slowly, he unzipped my jeans, staring into my eyes. Just watching him, knowing what was to come took my breath away. He took my pants down; I lifted my hips to help the process along. “So eager, I like that,” he said, his eyes smoldering with desire.
I felt his fingers hook on the waistband of my underwear; I held my breath, lifting my hips again as he stripped me completely. Exposed, vulnerable, and totally immersed in desire, I laid back on the kitchen counter waiting for Briggs to take me. He spread my legs further apart, opening them. “Your pants? Aren’t ya taking them off?” I questioned.
Smiling, he said, “Not yet, I promised you three, two more to go baby.” He said as he began kissing my thighs and tenderly biting the flesh of my legs. He used his fingers to open me further, he rubbed the hardening nub of my clit with his thumb, before lightly flicking it with his tongue.
“Briggs…I can’t…I don’t know. I’m ready now.” I whined. I wanted him inside of me, deep inside of me. I needed him.
