by Violet Blaze
Rhoden stretches me wide and fills me up, burying himself in my center, so deep he makes my tummy ache in the best possible way, like the tip of his cock is just barely brushing the end of me.
“I fit just right inside of you, Della,” he purrs into my ear with his smooth as silk-sheets voice. “It's rare that I meet a woman who can take all of me.”
“Are you calling me loose?” I whisper, but the joke falls flat when I groan and squeeze my legs tight around him, locking my ankles together.
“Oh, fuck no,” Rhoden whispers, biting my ear. “You're so tight I can barely move.”
I groan and rock my hips against him, fully aware that this can't last but wishing it would go on forever. I can count the number of times I've enjoyed sex this much in my life on one hand. Well, no hands actually because I don't think I've ever felt like this before.
“Oh-yes-so-good,” I moan, the words mushing together into a single syllable as the music switches again and again. We move and slide together for six songs, my body half-suspended in the air, warm musty drafts from the theater teasing my bare ass. Rhoden has enough stamina to get me to that edge, to make me gasp and pant and curl my fingers around the lapels of his suit jacket.
My orgasm is mind-blowing, tearing out of me with a small scream. Rhoden puts his hand gently over my mouth and lets me go at it, holding my shuddering body as small tears prick the corners of my eyes. I don't mean them to. One minute, I'm coming apart at the seams and the next, I'm just crying.
I don't let him see, pressing my mouth against his neck and whispering, “keep going. I want to feel you come.” Rhoden takes my words to heart, thrusting and moaning as his shaft teases my suddenly-too-sensitive insides. It's so tender and sore, it almost hurts, but I make him keep going until he comes, squeezing my ass in tight fingers and then stepping back before we both go weak-kneed and fall over the railing.
There's a second there where we just look at each and then I turn and start walking away.
Because I know if I don't, he will. And I'm not sure if I can handle that again.
Both my father and Walter leave town on an emergency business trip on Sunday, something about a possible salmonella scare at one of the plants my father's corporation runs to process Donsanto's food products.
I can't believe my bad luck. I'm finally ready to tell Walter that I want to call off the engagement and bam, he's gone again.
“This is a good thing,” Ariana says as she sits in the seat next to mine at the game, the sun shining on her red hair and turning it to spun rubies.
“A good thing that thousands of Americans might get salmonella from contaminated corn?” I ask and Ariana drops her shades down her nose so she can roll her eyes at me.
“So not funny, and no, that's not what I meant. I'm just saying that you look like shit and that I need you this week anyway, so it's best you don't have your head somewhere else. Forget about Walter until he gets back. It's not like an extra few days is going to change anything.”
I sigh and lean back into my seat, watching the Adders annihilate the competition on the field. Rhoden's in good form today, running a forty yard touchdown and putting the team ahead 22-7. When I watch him take his helmet off and grab a drink of water, I try not to let that possessive tingle spike through my veins. But wow. He looks so good with the dark smudges of black beneath his eyes, his hair soaked in sweat, his uniform bright under the afternoon sunshine.
“What do you need me for this week?” I ask her as she digs around in her purse and grabs a pair of white cards, passing one over to me. “The rehearsal dinner isn't until December, and I already straightened out that mess with the florist.”
“I know. You're the best bridesmaid ever. But this, this is really important to me.”
I look down at the card.
Alissa Norton, OB/GYN. Thanks! Your appointment time is 10:35 on Monday, October 31st.
“You made an OB/GYN appointment for Halloween?” I ask. Who does that?
Ariana taps the card with her fingernail.
“This is not for me, silly. This is for you.”
I look at the name scrawled in messy cursive across the printed line.
“Ariana,” I start as I swing my eyes up to her. “Making your best friend an appointment with your gynecologist is about as invasive as using her credit card to buy raffle tickets for an NFL contest. And it's twice as creepy. Why on earth would I ever go to the OB/GYN with you? You know I love you, girl, but this is … no. Absolutely not.”
“Della, listen,” Ariana says as she sucks in a deep breath and smiles at me. “I think I'm pregnant.”
I gape at her as the crowd goes wild and I realize I've missed a really big play. I turn back and watch Rhoden … dunk the football over the goal post like it's a basketball. Uh-oh. Penalty time. That fucking idiot! But then I remember that my best friend in the whole world just told me she might be pregnant.
“Are you … what do you mean?”
“Weeeeell,” she starts, getting all giddy and fidgety in her seat. Ariana grew up in a foster home, and since the first day we met, she's been telling me how much she wants a family of her own, wants to be a mother. She and Scottie have actually been trying for years. They decided to get married when they both realized they might have to adopt. “Scottie and I had this wicked, wicked night. Have you ever used a sex swing?”
“Um, that is not what I asked,” I say, trying to steer her back on topic. If given the opportunity, she will tell me all about her sex with Scottie, down to this “cute little quiver that his penis does right before he comes”. These are things I absolutely do not want to hear about.
“I took about twelve different at-home tests, and they all had faint positive lines. It could be nothing or it could just be really early. I want to go to the doctor and find out for sure—and I don't want Scottie to know yet, not until I'm sure.”
I smile at Ariana and reach over to squeeze her hand while she takes a deep, steadying breath.
“I'm really excited for you,” I say, and I hope she can tell how much I mean that. “But I'm not going to the OB/GYN with you.”
“Del, come on!” Ariana says, turning to me and taking both my hands. “I really don't want to go by myself. You know how much that place scares me. If I knew you were there, that you were in the exam room right next to mine, I'd feel a million times better.” She gives me the puppy dog face that I have a hard time resisting. “Don't do this to me,” she pleads as she bats her eyelashes at me and then pushes her shades up over her eyes, pretending to sniffle. “Don't abandon me in my time of need. This is the biggest thing that's ever happened to me. Don't you want to support that? Seeing as to how you're my maid of honor and everything … I'd hate to take Hal with me instead.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
“You did not just pull the Hal card,” I say, knowing she knows how jealous I get when it comes to my little sister.
“I just did,” Ariana says with a smirk, sitting back in her chair and then exploding up when Rhoden throws a perfect touchdown pass. I join her, pumping my arm in the air and shouting. After he does a little victory dance, I notice his gaze swing in this direction.
I can't be sure, but … it almost feels like he's looking right at me.
I have come to accept that the bridesmaid dress I will be wearing in December will have no sleeves. I have also accepted that my little sister who is a size zero will be wearing the exact same dress and will be standing next to me at said wedding.
But I am going to #lovemyself and not worry about it. What I have decided to do is make some easy changes in my life to get healthier. I don't know about you, but I've always struggled with my weight. Diet and exercise help, obviously, but even when I was on the girl's basketball team in high school, I was fifty pounds heavier than the next heaviest girl.
I'm making a vow to accept myself for who I am, even if that's being the two hundred and twenty pounds I've been for the last few years of my life. However, I have decided to ta
ke on the no-oil challenge and eliminate processed oils for the next few weeks. My sister's charged me with making the family's traditional chocolate chip pumpkin bread for Halloween, even though I've decided to skip out on the stuffy party to hang with Ariana and Scottie. I've been experimenting with my mother's recipe and made some modifications that still leave a tasty loaf at the end. Check out my food porn pictures and see what bread made with APPLESAUCE and MAPLE SYRUP instead of oil and sugar looks like.
Oh, and prepare to be amazed. This is only two hundred calories for a slice. Yum!
1 (15 ounce) can organic pumpkin puree
4 large free-range eggs
1 cup organic applesauce
3 cups maple syrup
3 1/2 cups organic whole wheat flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
2 teaspoons ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground allspice
1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
Bake at 325 degrees for about an hour and ten minutes in small loaf pans. I lined mine with parchment paper so I didn't have to grease the sides. Enjoy!
I attach all the photos of my baking experiment and a picture of myself in Ariana's admittedly gorgeous bridesmaid dress pick. It's a soft peach color with small cap sleeves and a chiffon mermaid tail train on the bottom. Hal says she thinks it looks like a penis suit, but I don't see the reference.
I upload my blog post to Della's Random Ramblings and close my computer, standing up with a sigh and checking the time. I've got an hour before Ariana's awful idea of a girl's day out, and I'm jittery as hell. Who's ever excited to go see a gynecologist? Not this girl right here.
I turn around and find Little Dick with his front paws on the counter and the loaf of pumpkin bread disappearing between his jaws. Great.
“No, that's a bad dog,” I tell him, trying to pry the food from his mouth. Let's just say, I'm not very successful in my endeavor. Instead of getting the bread away from him, I end up chasing him around the living room in what he probably thinks is a game, and getting slobber and chewed up gooey bread stuck to my fingers and to the white couch.
Awesome.
Walter and my dad are due back tonight, but with this whole appointment thing today, our break up is going to have to wait for tomorrow. Each second that ticks by makes me feel a little sicker, a little guiltier. I am the cheater here, the one in the wrong. I owe this to Walter.
Aaaaaand, maybe part of me wonders if Rhoden … no. No. If he wants to see me, he knows where to find me. For the last week, I've been walking Little Dick up and down the sidewalk in front of the dog park and he hasn't once come out to visit us.
Don't be pathetic, Della, I tell myself as I wash the dog spit off my hands and grab my purse. I pause to fill up the bunny's water bottle on my way out and then get prepare myself for the coming misery.
A day at the OB/GYN's. How exciting.
“I'm not sure I want to be friends with you anymore,” I whisper as a woman comes out of the hallway in a pair of scrubs dotted with tiny pink hearts. “Girlfriends go shopping together, check out guys together, eat too much Chinese takeout together. They do not force their friends to get their vagina poked and prodded.
“Della Garland,” the woman calls out as Ariana digs her nails into my arm and starts to shake. She has a different doctor, same appointment time. It'll be her turn any minute now. I pry my friend's vise grip off my arm and head into an exam room with the nurse. My first response when she asks me to dress down into the gown thing-y is to make dirty jokes.
I manage to hold them all back.
She checks my vitals and asks me a couple of really embarrassing questions about my sex life. I answer them as honestly as I can. If I'm going to go through this whole charade, I may as well take it seriously.
“Wonderful. The doctor will be in with you in just a minute,” she tells me as she closes the door softly behind her and leaves me alone in a room with a plastic vagina model and pictures of women with babies plastered on the walls. God, I want a baby someday, I think as I stare at the pictures and wonder what kind of mother I'd make. I didn't exactly have one of my own for long—and my stepmother certainly doesn't count. I want to think I'd be a good one, but how could I stand up for a kid if I can't even stand up for myself?
I kick my ankles against the metal table and try not to hyperventilate. The only person I've had sex with in months is Rhoden, and we used condoms every time, so I'm sure I'm fine. Still, sitting in that sterile room is a scary thing, opening the box to all my worst fears.
“Della, hi,” a woman in a long white lab coat says as she steps into the room and smiles at me. She has a nice smile, big and wide, calming me down instantly. I breath a small sigh of relief. “You're here for a routine exam today?”
I nod and try to smile at her as she pauses in front of me and reads notes off her clipboard.
“Wonderful. Any questions or concerns?”
I think for a moment and then shake my head.
“Nope.”
“Good. This shouldn't take much time at all,” she says. “We'll do the exam and then run a general blood panel for you. How does that sound?”
“Sounds great,” I say as I prepare myself to lay back on this prehistoric looking table.
The doctor smiles at me and nods like she knows exactly how I feel.
“It's always good to be proactive when it comes to our reproductive health,” she says, and it's my turn to smile back. See, not so bad. Ariana was freaking out for nothing.
“Sure,” I say because why not? This is a good thing, I decide. I'm glad I came here. It goes along with the whole taking-control-of-my-life thing that I've been working on. Getting a clean bill of health here is a good place to begin, especially if I'm going to start officially dating again. I'll give Walt some time to cool down and then …
I do my absolute best not to think of Rhoden Richards, but there he is, right at the forefront of my thoughts.
“Are you ready?” the doctor asks, and I nod.
The exam goes well, much easier than I expected. Ariana looks like she's going to puke when she comes out of her room, but she's excited to get her test results back. Based on the pelvic exam, her doctor agrees that she might be pregnant, but it's too early to tell without getting the blood test. Ariana's excited, but I try not to get her hopes up. My doctor also said it looked like I might be pregnant.
Hilarious. Guess we'll wait for those test results to prove her wrong.
I ignore the tiny wiggle of worry in my gut and try to relax, spending an easy Halloween at Ariana's apartment passing out candy and watching horror movies, dry ice Halloween cocktails clutched in Scottie's and my hand. If he notices his wife-to-be isn't drinking, he doesn't say anything.
One week later when our test results come in, Ariana finally finds out that she's pregnant.
And so do I.
What. The. Hell. Am I going to do about that?
“Oh my God,” Ariana says as she bounces around the room and grins big at me, red braids flopping. “Can you believe this? Can you even … I've been trying to get pregnant since I was twenty-five and now look at this, look at it!”
I sit on her couch with a stiff spine and try to figure out how to bring this news up to Ariana without ruining her mood. I already cried and pleaded on the phone with the doctor today, but that didn't change anything. And then I bought some store tests and that didn't change anything either.
I don't understand. We used condoms. Every time. I just … I don't get it.
“Della,” Ariana asks, kneeling down next to me and poking me between the eyes with her nail. “What is up with you today? Aren't you excited? You're going to be an auntie.”
“I'm going to be a mother,” I say and I find suddenly that I can't breathe.
“What … what?” Ariana asks, blinking stupidly at me and
sitting on the floor in her red hooker boots, black slacks and suit jacket. Interesting combination, that. “What are you talking about?”
“I'm pregnant, Ariana,” I say and then I start sobbing because I'm so goddamn confused.
“Wait, did you and Walter—”
“Not Walter,” I say and it comes out kind of like a wail, Ariana's green eyes exploding into circles.
“No,” she says and then she gets weirdly excited about it. “Rhoden?!”
“This is … Rhoden is never going to believe me,” I tell Ariana as I stand up and start to pace in front of her. She's still sitting with her mouth hanging open and staring up at me. “We've used condoms every time.”
“Condoms break,” Ariana says. “Have you been checking every single one to make sure there are no holes or rips? Even a micro-tear is all it takes if you have strong swimmers.”
“Ariana, this is serious!” I snap as I plop down on the couch again, putting my head in my hands. “According to the doctor, I'm five weeks from conception, putting the date as the night of the masquerade party. Rhoden and I were both drunk, but I know he had a condom on. If it did break though, I'm not sure either of us would've noticed. It wasn't like I examined it before he threw it out. What do I do?”
“That's up to you,” she says, reaching over and giving my hand a squeeze. “Whatever you want, I'm here for you.”
I squeeze her hand back.
“I know. Now all I have to do is figure out how to tell Rhoden.”
“If you should tell Rhoden,” Ariana says and my smile turns grim. Rhoden is an asshole and he certainly isn't father or boyfriend or anything material really. But I like him. A lot. Too much maybe.
Even though I don't really know him at all.
“What would you do?” I ask. “If you were me?”
Ariana shrugs her shoulders and shakes her head, trying not to smile but letting it happen anyway.
