Pleasure Point: The Complete Series

by Evans, Jennifer

  “I believe there are many soul mates out there.”

  “But do you think that maybe there’s one person that we’re meant to be with?”

  “Not really. If that were true, then what would happen to widows?” She narrowed her eyes. “Why’re you thinking this stuff? Did you meet somebody?”

  I longed to smoke another joint to quell the uneasiness that oozed into my system. “It’s just that … I’m kind of seeing someone right now.”

  Carissa sat up and clapped her hands together. “You are? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  I looked away. “It’s not that great of a situation.”

  “Why not? Is the guy married?” she said.

  “No.”

  “Is he long distance?”

  “No.”

  “Are you going to make me sit here and guess all night?”

  My jaw clenched. “You promise you won’t judge me?”

  “Of course not. We’re friends, right?”

  “Remember when I told you about how Lydia’s son was giving me surfing lessons?”

  “Is it somebody you met surfing?”

  I studied my manicure. “Kind of.”

  “For Chrissakes, tell me already.”

  “Please don’t be mad at me but I … it’s Jax.” I looked down at my lap. “We kind of were hanging out a bunch and then one day it all kind of happened and …” I glanced at Carissa. Her mouth hung slightly open.

  She said, “Oh honey, what are you doing? How old did you say he was?”

  My voice came out as a whisper. “Eighteen.”

  “I’m sure he’s super cute, but Roz, you’re planning on cutting this off, right? He’s so young.”

  I sat up and faced my friend. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. He’s sweet and caring and funny, and he helps me with all the stuff I can’t handle in life. He’s really good with a tool box, and he …” I collapsed back on the lawn chair.

  “And the sex is great, right?”

  I closed my eyes. “Yes.”

  Carissa was quiet for a while. “Sweetie, I know you think this was a fun thing to do. God knows I’ve certainly had my share of bad boys and guys that were wrong for me, but you’ve got to cut this off now.”

  “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Why not?”

  My voice was shaky. “Because, I think I’m in love with him.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “In love? What is the matter with you? You can’t mess with his head.” She smirked. “And what would he know about love? He’s still in high school, right? Is he going to ask you to the prom?”

  I sat up so fast that Carissa flinched. “Don’t make fun of him! He’s a good person. The nicest man I’ve ever met.”

  She touched my arm. “Honey, he’s not a man yet.”

  I stood up, my back to Carissa, and stared at the verdant hills where the palm trees gently swayed in the breeze. “I know he’s not. You’re right. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.” I turned and sat on the edge of her lounge chair, looking her in the eye. “But what if we keep it all real quiet until—”

  “Until what? Until you get caught?”

  “Nobody has to know.”

  “Has anyone suspected yet?”

  I looked down. “His brother knows.”

  Her breath was a sharp intake. “Oh no. Is he going to tell?”

  “He’s totally cool.”

  “You hope.”

  “I know I’m playing with fire. But it’s just fun stuff right now. We won’t get caught. Besides, ten years from now nobody’s going to care.”

  “Ten years? Are you really thinking that far ahead? What’re you doing for protection? You ready to have a kid?”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  Carissa took my hand. “Sweetie, I know you and I have done some dumb things in life, but this is dangerous. What if his folks find out?”

  “We only have sex at my house, when we know nobody’s around.”

  “You’ve gotten lucky. You can’t hide this forever.”

  I pulled my hand away from hers. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’d better think hard. You’re going to break a lot of hearts. Look at you, you’re young, beautiful, talented, and you’ll find a man, somebody your own age.”

  “I’ve got my whole life ahead of me, right?”

  “Right. Rosalyn, look at me.” I faced her. Her eyebrows were drawn together. “I’m your friend. Just chalk this up as another life experience, and move on.”

  I dropped my chin to my chest and nodded my head, a small tear falling on my lap. “I know, you’re right.” But I didn’t want to believe her.

  * * *

  On Monday morning, Carissa and I stood next to our cars, ready to drive home. She hugged me tight then said, “You’re going to be fine. You’re doing the right thing cutting things off with Jax. You are planning on cutting things off, right?”

  I looked down and nodded, then met her gaze.

  She stared at me extra hard. “Call me if you need to talk.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I put Ol’ Betsy in gear, heading west to Point Loma. I wasn’t even a block away when I let out a huge exhale. I hadn’t promised Carissa anything. We’d be careful. We wouldn’t get caught.

  Rummaging through my bag, I extracted a joint, and smoked it as Carissa and her judgmental attitude faded into the distance. I honestly thought I was smarter than everyone else. I thought I had the situation under control, thought we’d be fine. We’d be cautious. And I really did think I was in love with Jax. I turned up the music, Robert Plant screaming about good times and bad times. I sang along, loud and off key, pressed my foot down on the accelerator, dust pluming up behind Ol’ Betsy as I drove back to Jax.

  Jax

  Things were freaking fantastic between Rosalyn and me. I could hardly believe how lucky I was. She’d been gone all weekend, and it made me realize even more how I’d become used to being around her. Even if we didn’t see each other, I liked knowing she was only a few blocks away.

  On the Monday I expected Rosalyn back, my dad asked me to help him fix his board. He’d been surfing over the weekend on a big swell, lost control of his surfboard, and it got nicked pretty good on the rocks.

  “Am I going to have to teach you how to surf all over again?” I smiled.

  He winked. “Yep. Guess so.” My dad was almost a better surfer than me. Almost.

  “Maybe one day you’ll be as good as your favorite son.”

  I bounced into the garage with Dad. He had all his cool junk set up: a sawhorse for laying surfboards out, a work table with a shitload of tools and surfboards piled against every available inch of wall—some suspended overhead by specially made slings. I inhaled the scent of primer and smiled.

  Dad laid his longboard on the sawhorse and ran his fingers across the nose where there was a ding about the size of a silver dollar, the fiberglass showing through. “Not too bad. But this calls for a brewskie.” He sauntered over to the small fridge he kept in the garage and pulled out a cold beer, popping the top and taking a swig. “Get the sandpaper, will you?”

  “Yes, master,” I said with a salute, clicking my heels together. I got the sandpaper, turned off the fan he’d used to dry the board, and then began sanding. Dad turned on the radio, and the harmonizing voices of the Beach Boys singing “Good Vibrations” came to life. I sang along, humming and dancing a little jig as I sanded.

  Dad folded his arms and leaned against the worktable, his blue eyes twinkling. “What’re you so happy about?”

  Happiness filled my body because Rosalyn and I were in love. Well, she hadn’t actually said those words, and neither had I, but that didn’t matter. What we had was real, and it blew my mind every time I thought of her naked body. “Just … nothing.” I sanded furiously, ran my fingers along the ding until I thought it was perfect, then held the wadded up sandpaper over my head and executed a perfect throw right into the wastebasket that stood on the other side of th
e garage. “Three points!” I yelled and high-fived my dad.

  “I know the NBA needs you, Kobe Bryant, but if it’s not too much trouble, can you tape off the ding?” He handed me the masking tape, and I gave him a little shoulder bump before setting to work. He shook his head and began mixing resin and foam dust in an old coffee can. “Good ol’ dad. Doing things the old-fashioned way.” He ignored me, dropping in the catalyst and stirring.

  He inspected the ding. “Good job, kiddo. Nice and smooth. Now grab a putty knife and help me with this.”

  I strutted across the garage, opening the top drawer of the six-tiered toolbox, dancing to the music all the way. Shuffling through the tools, I found the putty knife and held it aloft. “Ha ha! Look out world, here comes Ding Doctor Jax.” I laughed maniacally. “And sometimes he’s the Mad Doctor.”

  “Will you quit and help me with this?” My dad suppressed a grin. We always had fun working on guy projects together, but that day, everything felt happier than usual. I could’ve sanded until my fingers bled, could’ve repaired thousands of surfboards in hundred-degree weather, and then when I was done with all that, I could’ve made love to Rosalyn all night. Make love. That’s what we did. I bit down on a smile.

  We worked side by side as the Beach Boys sang to us. I became so engrossed in filling the ding with resin paste that I didn’t hear Rosalyn’s car pull up.

  My dad stood up straight and waved. “Hey, there’s Rosalyn.” I popped up from my hunched over position, the putty knife slipping out of my grasp and clattering to the floor. I felt like running to her car and pulling her into a hug and a long, passionate kiss, but I forced myself to play it cool even though my heart was thudding in my chest.

  In slow motion, one shapely leg exited her car then she smiled that smile that lit the whole world up and gave a little wave. “Hey, guys. Just getting back from Palm Springs.”

  “Well, come on in,” my dad said. “Want a beer?”

  Rosalyn glanced at me then my dad and said, “I’d love one.”

  “I’ll get it for you,” I said. I jogged to the fridge and pulled out a can, but my hands were shaking so badly that I could barely pop the top. Finally I opened it. “You want a glass? A lady’s got to have a glass.”

  “No, honey, I don’t need a glass.” I handed her the beer can, and when our hands touched, my stomach went funny. She’d been gone all weekend and I’d spent the whole time thinking of her, wondering when we’d get together next, and fantasizing about what I wanted to do to her.

  My dad went back to filling the ding. “How was the trip?” he said.

  “Fun! My friend from Santa Fe’s an artist just like me, so we got to work on our paintings together.” She leaned against the worktable, sipping her beer. While my dad was bent over looking at the surfboard, she shared a secret smile with me. My gaze roamed over her body, head to toe, lingering on her breasts. She wore a skimpy tank top that was extremely low cut. I wanted to yank it down and lick her pink nipples right then and there.

  “Jax!” My dad elbowed me. “Mind helping me finish this?” He glanced up and caught me staring at Rosalyn. His eyes traveled from me, to Rosalyn, to me again.

  Rosalyn straightened and said, “Is Lydia home yet?”

  Dad said, “Yeah, she’s inside.” He stared at Rosalyn a few beats too long.

  “Okay, then. I’ll talk to you guys later. Lyd’s and I are going to the mall.”

  She sashayed into the house, leaving a trail of Sandalwood scent in her wake. I stood next to my dad and stared at the closed door. Finally my dad bent over, picked up my putty knife, handed it to me and said, “That Rosalyn’s a looker, right?”

  “No, it’s just that —”

  He clapped me on the shoulder. “It’s okay. I remember what it was like being a teenager.” He rubbed his jaw. “You know, Jax, it’s good to feel those kind of feelings for attractive women, but I hope you also respect Rosalyn.” He stared at me, his blue eyes boring holes through my skull.

  My grip tightened around the putty knife and my cheeks got hot. “Umm, yeah, of course Dad. You know that I would never do anything—”

  He put his hand on my shoulder. “Rosalyn’s a talented person. She’s an old friend and she’s working hard on getting her act together. I hope you appreciate that women are not just sex objects.” His eyes searched mine.

  Did my dad know what was going on? Did Tyler rat me out? Maybe I said something myself that I didn’t mean to, making my dad think I loved Rosalyn. I combed a hand through my hair and swallowed hard. “Of course I know that. She’s a great lady.”

  He stared at me for a long time, and then broke into a wide grin. “You’re a good man. Just making sure the Priest name keeps its class. Now let’s finish up here.” He whistled softly as his fingers ran over the ding.

  I blinked away dizziness from the pins and needles that ran through my system. I exhaled relief. We were safe.

  We went back to fixing the surfboard, but the whole time, my body burned with desire. I couldn’t wait until the next time Rosalyn and I were together.

  Rosalyn

  Lydia and I strolled in the mall, stopping in front of Victoria’s Secret. Seductive mannequins stood in the picture windows in provocative poses wearing black fishnet stockings, G-string bikini bottoms, and sexy push-up bras.

  Lydia looped her arm through mine. “Come on. I need to buy something to spice things up in the bedroom.” We walked into the shop together. The cloying aroma of imitation pear and vanilla assaulted my nostrils. Attractive young girls, makeup perfectly applied and hair flat-ironed to perfection, floated through the boutique, intent on spending their life savings on the latest bras and panties. We stopped at a table, where a mannequin chopped off at the waist wore a pair of black satin underwear. Lydia’s hand trailed along a display of silk lingerie. “These look nice,” she said. She held up a pair of pink panties, a black bow front and center.

  I picked up a pair of plaid cotton boy-short underwear. “These are more my style.”

  Lydia laughed. “You need to get some action. Get out of that ratty bathrobe you wear all the time.”

  “What’s wrong with my bathrobe?”

  “Nothing. If you don’t plan on entertaining in it, that is.” She picked up another pair of panties, a slinky, crotchless affair. “Now this’ll get something going in the bedroom. Not that things are boring, but you know, Troy and I have been together a long time.”

  The plaid underwear really were not my style at all, but I felt uncomfortable being in this sexy underwear shop with Lydia. In fact, I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to keep my close friendship with Lydia when every time we were together I felt like she could read my desire for her son all over my face.

  “Rosalyn,” she said, “do you think something’s wrong with Jax?”

  My head snapped up. “No? Why?”

  “It’s just that all these girls keep calling the house for him and a few of them even come by and he’s not interested.”

  The thought of girls hounding Jax gave me an irrational feeling of jealousy. I cleared my throat. “How many girls?”

  She picked up a pair of red satin panties, holding them in front of her. “Lots. I guess it’s time this started happening. Same thing happened with Tyler starting a few years ago.” She looked off into the distance. “Those boys are so damn polite sometimes.”

  “What do you mean?” I said.

  “I mean I trained them to have manners, but doesn’t it seem like they’d have girlfriends by now? They need to take charge.”

  My hand made its way to my mouth where I chewed my cuticle. “Maybe not. They’re good boys.”

  “Tyler’s at least nice to girls and seems like he’s interested, but the way Jax acts is not polite. When girls call the house, he begs me to lie for him, tell them he’s not home. Then, when one comes over, I invite her in and offer her a drink, and Jax just sits there looking distracted and makes up some dumb excuse, like he’s got homework. Sometimes he�
�s downright rude. Would it kill him to go out with a girl?”

  “No.”

  Lydia was on a roll. “I know I asked you to tell me if either of the boys mentioned anything about sex or drugs.” She set down the panties and looked at me. “So you probably think I’m being weird now, but it’s almost like … Do you think Jax is gay?”

  I laughed so loud that a few shoppers stopped and looked at us. “Sorry, that’s funny. No, I don’t think he’s gay.” I looked down, fidgeting with a few pairs of underwear. “He probably has high standards.”

  “But some of the girls are really nice. They seem sweet and some of them even surf and one of them’s a singer in the choir at school and the other one …”

  I put up my hand. “I get it. A lot of girls like him.”

  Lydia busied herself with the lingerie, picking up one pair after another and selecting a few possibilities. “I think it would be nice if he dated. Nothing serious, just date.”

  I didn’t like this feeling. I had visions of young nubile bodies wearing flimsy underwear, seducing Jax. Visions of Jax using everything I’d taught him on those girls. But he would be better off if he did get away from me.

  “Do you want me to talk to him?” I said.

  “And say what?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just …” Maybe just jump his bones and make sure he forgets about all those other girls. “Encourage him to give them a chance?”

  Lydia put her hand on my arm. “That’d be nice.” She shook her head. “I’m sure I’m worried for nothing.”

  I took a deep breath, and let it out.

  Jax

  Tyler had a gig a few days after Rosalyn got back from Palm Springs, and my mom was doing that annoying thing that moms always do: trying to dress him.

  “How about this T-shirt?” she said, holding a light green shirt with a likeness of Jimi Hendrix silk screened on the front. “Hendrix is cool. Or what about this one?” She picked up a blue and grey plaid flannel shirt.

  Tyler sat on the sofa tuning his guitar and humming, his hair hanging in his face.