by Kara Hart
Before our lips meet, her thigh slides against mine. It passes by my hard shaft and I grow weary, yet strong. I push her against the wall, and she lets out a short moan. She reaches down and runs her hand over me, so light and delicate that I have to push my body even closer.
Our lips crush together and I’m swirling in everything good she has to give the world. In these moments, I’m the luckiest man alive because I have everything. I push my hand around the bottom of her skirt. I slide up and pull down her panties. I feel her, really feel her. And when two fingers push inside her, her body extends against the paneling.
“No,” she eventually whispers. “I want to suck your cock.”
“What?” I pause. I nearly shake my head at my own question. What do I care? But I want to feel her. I want to feel that warm pussy, sliding over my cock for the first time in the day. I want to feel all of my troubles let go, in the one moment. And then, I want to experience something entirely wrong with her. I want her to beg.
“Let me suck your cock.” She smiles, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. It’s impossible to say no to something like that. I don’t say a word. I pull on the side of her beautiful, thick hair. I pull until she slowly lowers her body to the ground.
She reaches out in front of her, touching the edge of my jeans. She runs her index finger on the edge of my gold zipper, cold and rigid. She slowly unbuttons and feels as my cock grows harder by the second.
With her teeth, she pulls the zipper down. I place my palm against her soft cheek. I want to kiss her again, and then I want to show her who’s boss. Yet, I stay still, waiting for her to act. She pulls my jeans down and in my boxer briefs is something that cannot be contained. From the center, she unbuttons, and it comes out, warm, thick, and hard.
“Jesus,” she whispers. “You’ve never been this hard yet.”
“I haven’t been with you in a while,” I say.
“It’s been like a day,” she laughs.
“Whatever you say,” I whisper, closing my eyes.
And when her mouth opens wide, my eyes fall on her. They hold steady and never falter, yet my body nearly trembles when I feel her warm tongue slide across my shaft. Grabbing her hair, I feel each strand. Soft as silk, sweet as an angel. That’s what Emily is.
I can’t control myself. I grab a fist of her hair and push in deeper, until I bottom out to her throat. I pull back out and she takes in deep breaths. I lean forward and taste her lips with mine. My tongue runs smooth across hers.
“You like it rough, don’t you?” I whisper.
She nods. Anything for me. Anything for the boss. “Yes, sir,” she pants.
“Stick out that tongue for me, baby,” I say.
She does as she’s told. I lick her tongue and stand up, looming above her. She reaches out to grab my cock again, but I take her hand in mine, instead. Our fingers intertwine. A rush of euphoric excitement pulses into my body. With my other hand, I feel how hard I’ve gotten. My heart is beating at an erratic pace.
I let go and feel her tongue with my thumb. This drives me crazy. I move forward, as my cock touches the center of her tongue. It unfolds and curls around me. It pulls me into the center, that comfortable darkness that always offers more than you’re willing to bargain for. Her eyes dart up at me with lust. They seem to say, “Cum for me.” At least, that’s how I take it.
I can let this ride out longer, or I can let go. I choose the latter, grabbing onto the walls. Her eyes are fixed on me. My vision goes blurry. I nod in her direction. Yes. It’s going to happen and it’s going to happen now.
I feel my muscles tighten and all of the pivotal points in my body go haywire. My blood pumps, my eyes close, and then I feel absolute warmth, absolute perfection. I open my eyes for one second and see her. That’s when I know. I can’t ever let her go. Somehow, I need to keep her satisfied with me.
Because there’s always that sliver of doubt. There’s always the small chance that this isn’t going as well as you thought. I’ve made a lot of shitty decisions in my life. I can’t brag about the path I’ve been on, but I can make things right for the future.
“All gone,” she says, smiling.
“God, I love you,” I reply, falling to her level. I kiss her endlessly, before having to walk back into that garage. She doesn’t say a word, but keeps that pretty smile on lock. When we walk back in, something changes. She sits down as Hanson carefully eyes us both. We’re silent. We’re pretending to be good workers. But I can’t keep my eyes focused on the carpentry. I glance up and she’s staring at me, nipples hard as rocks.
“I love you too,” she mouths back.
Emily
The fateful words, full of fright, wonder, and hope. They contain a wish, more than they contain a statement. “I love you.” What does that mean? It means, “I’ve had too many good times with you for this to be real life.” So you drop out of reality for a while. You do things in accordance to the feeling you have for one another.
“I love you.” It also means, “I hope you’ll make this last. Please make this last. For me.” Most of the time, it doesn’t last. I’m just being honest. Most of the time, you go through the upswing and brace for impact when you come back down. Most of the time, that painful ending takes years to finish.
I’ve always been afraid of saying it. I’ve known the realities that come with “love.” But I also know the feeling of transcendence. It’s that simple understanding that comes with real love. With Dennis, I had that. Sure, I had it. I understood him all too well. I accepted his behavior and lowered my head for him.
Look where that got me.
With Michael, however, it’s clearly different. He’s honest and hardworking, perhaps to a fault. He’s available and everything I’ve been waiting for, but there’s always that nagging feeling inside of me. Will this work out? Will it last forever? Because if it doesn’t, I don’t want to continue opening my heart up, just so that it can get ripped to shreds again.
When I’m with him and I’m snuggled against his strong arms, my heart feels bulldozed. Leveled. I’ve been holding in this whole Dennis thing and I don’t know how to tell the man I’ve fallen for that he’s here. He’s in this town right now. For all I know, he could be right outside his front door.
My phone has been buzzing all day. Of course, he can’t leave me alone. He needs more, more, and more. It’s just his way. “If you were to go anywhere and do anything,” Michael whispers into my ear, “what would you do?”
His lips brush against the cartilage. Goose bumps shoot across my body. “Anywhere?” I ask.
“Anywhere in the whole entire world,” he says.
His hand runs up and down my back. I feel pampered, loved, and fully his. But I’m still distant. I’m still in the center of his world, yet far away, in the stars. “Marseilles,” I say. “The coast of France. I’ve always dreamed of going.”
“What would you do when you got there?” he asks me.
“I have no clue,” I laugh. “Get a boat. Sit by the water every day. Read books. Hell, maybe I’d even write one.”
“And stuff your mouth with delicious pastries?” he asks.
“Way too many pastries. And espresso. Lots of espresso. And wine. And cheese. Oh God, why do you ask me stuff like this? Now I want to be there,” I pout.
“Maybe we can go someday,” he tells me.
I close my eyes and dream of it. I feel the warm breeze fall across my face and hair. I can smell the coffee, the sea, and I can hear the men on the boats talking as the women walk past and smile. In this vision, the world is big and wonderful. It’s not just one town, one job, one possible outcome. It’s not a prison. It’s not Chicago. In this vision, I’m free. I can finally be myself.
Yet, I know it’s just a dream. It’s all just a dream. In the end, there’s too much to be done here, in my new city. And as long as I’m with Michael, it’ll all turn out okay. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I tell him. “It’s not fun to me.”
I simply nod my head. Maybe. Oh, probably. “Summer trips would be nice,” I whisper to myself.
“Easily done,” he tells me.
Still, I have to hold on to what’s real right now. I can’t keep falling into the dream of perfection. It’s just a catalyst for a big letdown. Usually, anyway. I kiss his arms and he releases me. I stand on his carpet and stretch my arms, breasts proudly displayed for him. He smiles and reaches out one hand. His fingers circle around my nipple, squeezing lightly.
I pull away, smiling and he groans in sexual anguish. “When is Lisa getting here?” I ask him.
He checks his phone and blinks his eyes a few times. The dream slowly escapes him, until he’s finally back in reality with me. “About five minutes,” he says.
But as soon as he says those exact words, I hear the front door open. I look at Michael to ask if I should hide, but he holds up his hand. Nevertheless, I grab my clothes and quickly put them on. I hear Susan’s heels clicking against the downstairs tile, coming closer and closer to the room. A knock sends chills up my spine, but Michael just laughs and opens the door.
“What’s up?” he asks her, shirtless and all.
“Oh lord, Michael.” She rolls her eyes. “Already sleeping with the interns?”
“Where’s Lisa?” he asks, ignoring her snarky retort.
“She’s playing outside right now. Did I come at a bad time? This is what we agreed upon,” she says.
“You’re fine. We were just going downstairs,” I speak up.
Susan eyes me, but ultimately decides not to respond. In all actuality, she doesn’t seem that angry anymore. She seems… bored.
“Everything is accounted for with the building. I’ve got people coming to fix the garage up. We should be up to code in a few days,” Michael says.
Susan looks surprised. “You got it taken care of?” she simply asks.
“Yeah. It was no biggie. I just made a few calls,” he says.
“And the money?” she asks.
“It’s all taken care of. Don’t stress about it.” All it takes is a solid arm around her shoulder, a slight platonic squeeze, and an awkward smile. She gives in. All the mean comebacks come to a halt. She’s satisfied. Michael turns his head toward me and waves me over. “Let’s go see Lisa!” he exclaims with joy.
We walk downstairs and into the kitchen. From the windows of the rectangular doors, I can see her jumping on the trampoline. She jumps so high, hitting the bouncy tarp, and springing up even higher. All three of us walk out and wave.
“You guys!” Lisa screams. “Jump with me!”
“Mommy can’t, doll!” Susan yells back.
“You always say that!” she says, out of breath. She falls on her butt and breathes heavily. “Dad, if you don’t jump with me, I’ll be sad.”
“Already with the guilt, huh?” Michael laughs. But he’s already on his way over to her. He’s the father of the year, the guy any kid would love to have.
There’s a strange moment where Susan and I are standing next to each other, watching Michael get onto the trampoline. Lisa runs and hugs him and he kisses the top of her head like he always does. Susan is speechless, and there’s an awkward understanding that begins to occur. At one point in her life, she loved this man. She might have given everything to him and it just didn’t work out. Now, I love him. Yet, all four of us out here are connected by the strange emotions of our past, present, and future.
“If you somehow fuck up my child,” Susan says. “I’ll bring you down. You hear me?” She’s staring straight ahead, avoiding all eye contact with me.
“Susan,” I laugh. “Just fuck off.”
I see her body twitch backwards, as if she just suffered a bad blow. When she stabilizes, I get out of there. I run over to the trampoline before she can say a word back to me. There’s just too much bullshit to deal with in the world sometimes, and today, I just want to enjoy the sun and the joy that exudes from Michael’s daughter.
“I’m leaving,” Susan says to us as I start to bounce. “See you when I’m back.”
“Have fun on the trip.” Michael waves. And just like that, Susan leaves. “She seems to be in a better mood than usual.” Michael laughs and shrugs.
“No she isn’t,” Lisa says.
“Don’t talk about your mom like that,” Michael winks.
I smile and try to bounce as high as Lisa, but fail. “Actually,” I begin speaking, “she does seem to be doing better. We even exchanged a few words.”
“Really? What did you talk about?” Michael asks.
“I told her she looked very pretty today.”
Who cares? Today is about living.
Michael
Lots of women can hold their own around kids. As for men, well, it took me a bit to find my ground. Being around two women has been hard enough, but Lisa knows that I’m trying my best. Emily, on the other hand, is a gem. The way Lisa has taken to her is blowing my mind.
When I invite Emily to stay for dinner, there are no objections from her. I used to be afraid of messing her up. I was told so many horror stories about divorce that I thought for sure my kid was going to have some lasting problems from the whole thing. Instead, she took to it like anything else. She was sad at first, of course. Yet over time, she just wanted things to be good for both of us. Susan found her second love. Now, I’m finding mine.
I help out with dinner tonight, marinating the chicken and making sure it cooks slow. Emily maintains the pasta and delicately churns the sauce. Lisa sits patiently in the living room, watching cartoons, but I can feel it every time she looks over.
When I place my hands around Emily’s waist and kiss her cheek, I can hear Lisa making gagging noises from ten feet away. Emily laughs and turns around. “He’s being gross, isn’t he?” she asks her.
“So gross,” Lisa laughs.
“Take it as a life lesson,” I say. “Men are the grossest creatures in the world. Stay very far away from them.”
“Not all of them are,” Lisa says, playfully. “But you are.”
“Your mom has taught you well,” I laugh back, surprised at the gumption coming from her right now.
Lisa smiles, beaming her teeth at me. She presses her tongue against a spot where a tooth is missing. “So, are you guys married or something now?” she asks.
“That’s not exactly how it works, baby,” I tell her. She knows. Now she’s just trying to mess with us.
“Isn’t that what you and mommy did?” she beams.
I turn around and check the chicken. It’s done cooking. Emily turns off the burners and comes to my rescue this time. “Okay, enough marriage talk. I’m not looking to get any more cooties than I’ve already gotten.” She smiles. “Dinner is ready.”
“Can we eat at the TV?” Lisa begs. “Please, Dad?”
“I thought we could eat at the table tonight. You and Emily can watch TV later,” I say.
“Oh, please!” She has positioned her body to be in the prayer position. She quickly raises her hands up into the air, connected together. She lowers her head like a beggar on the side of some foreign city street and says in a British accent. “I’ll do anything, sir!”
That’s my girl. A real swindler. Emily, of course, loves it and gives me a look that says, Come on. Just let her indulge in bad habits. Fine. So be it. Giving in isn’t all that bad. Besides, it’ll give me father of the year points.
“Alright, fine. We’ll all sit and watch cartoons with you,” I say.
Emily and I bring the plates and sit on the couch. Lisa sits on the floor, eyes fixed on the new screen. An iPad sits on the floor next to her, displaying a game filled with bright jewels. I remember back when I was youn
ger, when these things were perceived so differently. TVs were the thing. Color wasn’t new, of course, but it hadn’t been around all that long when you really think about it. Cell phones weren’t a necessity yet. The world was still in lo-fidelity mode.
Now, that has all changed. I never thought I’d think I’d swing away from culture, but my daughter makes me realize just how far away from everything I really am. She’s smarter than me and she’s still a child. That’s the biggest mind-fuck of having children. It’s not having to wipe their butts, or having to pay for extra things, nor is it having to help them through their biggest problems. All of that stuff is the fun part. Where it gets weird is realizing you’re no longer in the center of everything.
All I know is that family and moments like this one right now, are everything. So I plan to hold onto them forever. We all dig into the pasta, staring at the wild cartoon characters, and Lisa eagerly tries to keep us up to speed.
“And that’s the evil witch, only she’s not exactly a witch. She used to be a princess, but was turned into a shadow of herself through her vain narcissism,” she says.
“Vain narcissism?” I ask her.
“Yeah, Dad. Every single day she looked into a mirror and begged to be prettier. The people of her father’s kingdom complimented her every single day, but that only made her want to change more things about her. Eventually, her body turned green with envy. Her skin shriveled and dried. Now, she’s a witch,” she says, confidently.
“Wow,” Emily raises her brows. “That’s an important story.”
“Trust me,” Lisa says. “It gets even crazier.”
“And this is a cartoon?” I remark.
“Yes, Dad,” Lisa says, rolling her eyes.
We sit, eat, and I even enjoy the damn cartoon. Suddenly, in this moment, we feel like a real family. It feels even more real than it did in the beginning with Susan. When we’re finished, we stay in the living room. We play Monopoly and, of course, Emily beats us all.
