Naughty & Nice

by J. S. Scott

  I make quick work of heating water in the kettle and pour myself a cup of tea. While it steeps, I sit down at the small, scarred table in my kitchen—a hand-me-down from my parents—and fire up my laptop. Classes start tomorrow, and I’m kicking myself in the ass for not coming back a day earlier so I could get some more rest. As it stands now, I know I’m only going to be half awake at my first day back at uni.

  Pulling up my email, I quickly find my class schedule that had been sent from the registrar’s office over a month ago, making note of where I’d need to be tomorrow. Luckily, I had purchased all of my books before I left on vacation, so I was ready to go. And tremendously excited too. I was almost halfway through my master’s program, and then I was hoping to land my dream job in educational management.

  When I first started at Trinity, I wanted to be a teacher. And who knows… maybe I still do to some extent, but I also have a keen interest in being a deeper part of the system. To work behind the scenes… to be responsible for the success of the institution. I decided to pursue my master’s, which would let me pursue either avenue, and while I very much enjoy my studies, I am so ready to start working in the real world.

  After printing my schedule, I delete that message and skim through my other email. Reaching for my cup of tea, it only gets halfway to my lips when I freeze at the email staring at me from my inbox.

  The sender’s name says IceCoyote46 and the subject line says: Regrets Are Subjective Anyway.

  My heart starts a mad pitter-pattering within my chest cavity, and my skin tingles. I don’t have to open the email to know it’s from Zane.

  I stare at it a moment, taking stock of my feelings. When I accepted a sweet kiss from Zane just before he got in the cab yesterday, a feeling of bitter disappointment had risen within me. Not that I had a one-night stand, but that we were parting ways and I wouldn’t see him again. While I knew it was silly to pine after someone I hardly knew, the truth of the matter was, he had been filling my thoughts a lot.

  As in… I thought about him the entire flight back to Dublin. One of the reasons I’m so tired is because I could barely sleep. Instead, I replayed everything about our night together, relishing in the memories and the feelings they reproduced.

  Not just physical feelings, which caused me to squirm in my seat as I thought about Zane. But emotional feelings, because we did a lot more than just have sex. While we waited for our metaphorical batteries to recharge in between bouts of lusty sex, we talked about everything. His hockey career, my studies… my crazy family, his relatively mild and sedate family. We did this as we lay in bed together, his arms wrapped around me and my head lying on his chest. He made me giggle because his humor is dry and condescending in just the right way. We debated with spirit over the best James Bond, and agreed to disagree that Sean Connery would not be my top pick just as Pierce Brosnan would not be his. He pushed and prodded at me about my dreams after school, causing me to think twice about whether I really wanted to be in educational management, or down in the trenches with the children. It wasn’t something I had thought about lately because I had been so focused on my studies, but he made me remember that it was my love of children that led me on a career path toward teaching in the first place.

  Yes, we talked about it all… taking breaks in between our colloquy to start kissing and caressing again, punctuated with deep groans and satisfied smiles when it was all said and done.

  Damn, but I’m feeling all out of sorts when it comes to Zane Kavanaugh. My well-laid plan to get in, get laid, and get out doesn’t seem to be working.

  I click on his email and open it up.

  To: IrishLass1990@dubire.com (Cady Dunne)

  From: IceCoyote46@bizfire.com (Zane Kavanaugh)

  Subject: Regrets Are Subjective Anyway

  Date: August 29, 2014

  Cady,

  I realized shortly after you left that maybe there was, in fact, one regret that I might have. And that was in not asking for a way to contact you. I know that sounds weird, seeing as how I live in the States and you live in Ireland, but I figured… we might not be able to see each other, but why can’t we remain friends and keep in contact?

  While I fucking loved having my face between your legs and being buried balls deep inside of you multiple times, I also realize that I really liked talking to you. You’re a cool girl, Cady Dunne, and as such… my only real Irish friend. If that makes me sound like a girl, I hope that doesn’t turn you off. If instead it makes me seem very mature, and you’d like to keep up with each other, I say let’s go for it.

  The hockey season will be starting soon, and life will be crazy for me. I don’t have any real close friends outside of my teammates, and my time is always limited between practices, games, and travel, but I know I’d always have some time to keep up with how you’re doing.

  So yeah… regrets are subjective, and I’ve decided to wipe out that one regret I had. I got your email from Linc and so I am reaching out. Ball is in your court, Irish Lass. You now have my email. If you ever get adventurous, my cell phone is 602-555-1448. Your sweet Irish accent would not be hard to listen to.

  Take care,

  Zane

  As soon as I finish reading, I realize my palms are damp with sweat and my adrenaline is spiking through me. How can I feel such a moment of thrill and elation just from reading an email?

  My cheeks heat as I read back through it again, imagining the way his face was, in fact, between my legs. He went down on me as soon as he shut my bedroom door and divested me of all my clothing. He was like a tornado, his hands whipping all around me as he pulled everything off. He was still fully clothed when he pushed me down onto the bed, spread my legs, and brought his mouth to me.

  It was the first, but not the last time, that I had screamed out, thankful that Linc and Ever’s bedroom was on the other end of the house. Zane growled in approval over my vocal demonstration and attacked me with his lips and tongue. I came for the second time supremely fast, my thighs clamping onto his head and probably strangling the poor man as he gently licked at me as I fell off my high.

  God, he was amazing in bed. I’ve never been with another man before that was so focused on a woman’s body. If we weren’t actually fucking, and if we weren’t talking, Zane’s mouth was always busy on my skin. Kissing or licking… sometimes, just rubbing his cheek over my skin while he hummed with approval and murmured, “So soft.”

  Sex with Zane Kavanaugh was unparalleled.

  It won’t be able to be reproduced.

  I’ll never have that again in my life.

  We live on different continents, and we won’t have anything between us but talk.

  No touch… just conversation and friendship.

  It takes me less than a second to click on the reply button—my mind made up. I may not be able to have with Zane what I really want, but I will take the friendship he is offering. I like him… a lot. As a person, as a friend, but sadly again never as a lover.

  But this would be enough. It would have to be.

  To: Zane Kavanaugh

  From: Cady Dunne

  Subject: Who Needs Regrets

  Date: August 30, 2014

  Shock probably isn’t a good enough word over seeing your email in my inbox, but you’ll be happy to know that it was a good kind of shock. You know… like the type you receive when you walk into your house unsuspecting that your family is throwing you a surprise party for your 21st birthday. You first get that jolt of surprise, followed by a moment where your stomach bottoms out, which precedes a sharp scream that tears out of your throat, then supreme joy over realizing what was going on.

  Not that I have any experience with that.

  That’s certainly how I felt when I saw your email.

  Yes, I would love to continue on a friendship with you. I can imagine your schedule is hectic, but I’m here to listen to any tirades over a loss (not that I expect you’ll be losing many games) or if you want to dish about the latest celebrity gossip. I’
m really not sure what a friendship with you would entail, seeing as how you would officially be my very first male-friend-that-I-had-sex-with-before-I-decided-to-become-friends-with-him. It puts you in a solely unique category, and I figure this will evolve over time. Who knows… maybe I’ll be able to piss and moan to you over my period cramps and you can confess to me your secret love of romance novels or something. I’ll be your confidant so to speak.

  Well, I’m off to get some dinner and then head back to bed to sleep off this jet lag. Classes start tomorrow, and I have to appear somewhat intrigued by what the professors will be talking about.

  Cheers,

  Cady

  I sit back in my chair and sip at my tea, letting my eyes roam over my response a few times. I want it to sound friendly… because that’s what this is. A friendship.

  But I don’t hit the send button yet because a part of me is a bit dissatisfied with what I’m not saying. Zane clearly had no problem referencing the intimacy we shared. He just laid it out there… the fact that his face was between my legs and he was balls deep inside of me. Those images flit through my mind, making my skin feel warm and flushed. He wants a friendship, but he shared intimate memories.

  Perhaps I should do the same… just so he knows that I very much loved everything that we did together that night.

  I may end up driving myself crazy by engaging in this foolishness, but I just can’t help myself. I start typing.

  P.S. I remember fondly and in a totally squirm-in-my-seat kind of way what you did to me with your face between my legs. It was transcendental, and I will be revisiting that memory on many a cold and lonely night.

  My lips twitch, and then I smile full blown. Let him think on that and consider what I’m feeling right now. A friendship across this distance, after what we shared with each other, is going to be difficult.

  It’s going to be interesting, but damn… there’s going to be frustration.

  Chapter Four

  Zane

  September

  I hear the chime indicating the plane has reached above ten-thousand feet, so I reach down to my backpack under the seat in front of me, pulling out my laptop. Turning it on so I can log onto the airline’s complimentary Wi-Fi, I patiently wait for it to boot up while letting my mind wander.

  To Cady.

  We’ve kept up a steady stream of emails back and forth to each other the last few weeks, and every time I hit the button to send her another communication, I find my patience wearing thin waiting for her response.

  Somewhere in our decision to become email friends, I discounted the fact that I would grow closer to her the more we got to know each other. It never occurred to me that even with Cady sitting across the Atlantic Ocean, I would start to feel something for her despite the distance. In fact, I never really thought this “friendship” would amount to anything when I first suggested it. I wrote to her that first time because I was still caught up in the amazing after-effect feelings of a fantastic fuck.

  Correction… fucks… as in plural.

  Because I hit that more than once, each time better than the time before.

  Yeah… I started this stupid idea of maintaining a “friendship” with her, but I never really thought it was going to last. I figured the next piece of ass that came my way would have my mind cleared of Cady’s soft skin and the delicate Irish lilt in her voice. I knew the next time I got in a girl’s panties, I would forget all about the numerous times I blew my load on that one perfect night with Cady. I was absolutely positive that she’d never be able to hold my interest for very long, especially when I couldn’t touch her… kiss her… fuck her. That’s what I needed and that’s what I wanted, but yet… I wait each day, wondering what her next email to me will say. And the truth of the matter is… I haven’t been with another woman since she left.

  It’s fucking with my head… the way my feelings are starting to morph and distend into something that I don’t even recognize about myself.

  Whereas Zane Kavanaugh basically liked to fuck his way through women, the man that looks back in the mirror at me now finds pleasure in hearing about Cady’s day, or the crazy antics of her best friend, Teagan, who is apparently like a female version of me… or so Cady says. I want to hear all about the pathetic guy that sits beside her in her Educational and Social Policy class, and whether or not he’s grown a pair of balls big enough to ask out the girl that sits on the other side of him. He apparently whines to Cady about it quite a bit, and it’s hilarious the way she tries to buck him up to no avail. She’s made it her mission to fortify his backbone this module—they call them modules, not semesters—and get him a date.

  My home screen appears on my Mac, and I quickly hit the mail icon. It’s not until my breath gushes out in relief over seeing an email from Cady that I realize I had needed to hear from her a little too much. So, in order to prove to myself that my entire existence isn’t focused on hearing from the black-haired, blue-eyed temptress, I purposely ignore her email and scroll through the others.

  That lasts all of about thirty seconds. Then I’m clicking on IrishLass1990, so I can get my daily dose of Cady.

  To: Zane Kavanaugh

  From: Cady Dunne

  Subject: Victory At Last

  Date: September 12, 2014

  I am pleased to inform you that my meek little classmate has finally built up enough nerve to approach her. God, Zane… my heart was pounding as I watched him walk up to her after class, repetitively wiping his hands on his pants because you and I both know how sweaty they were, right? I swear… his face was actually a shade of green when she made eye contact with him. But it went off better than expected. His stutter was to a minimum and even though he kept glancing at me for emotional reassurance, he got the words out. I think it was something like, “Wouldyoupleasegooutwithme?” He practically screamed it at her and it came out so fast, I couldn’t understand what he said, and I know she didn’t either.

  I thought for sure he was doomed but then he took a deep breath, which is exactly what I advised him to do if he got nervous, and tried again… this time a little slower, and a little clearer. It must have been said with a great deal of charm too because before I knew it, she was smiling at him and giving him her number.

  Score!!!

  My work is done, and now I feel complete.

  So, what are you up to? I’m thinking you are probably on the plane right now. Right? I bet you are so excited to see your family. I can’t even imagine living so far from mine, especially as close as we are. And, because I do know, in fact, how close you are to your parents and your “bratty little sister,” who I am quite positive is not bratty at all despite how many times you tell me that, I can guess how you must feel living so far away from them.

  My advice is to relax and enjoy these last few days you have off before training camp starts. Because your ass is getting ready to get super busy.

  Okay… have to run. Teagan’s here and we’re going out tonight. I hope she doesn’t keep yammering at me to go out with her co-worker. You know, the one I told you about. I might just have to give in so she’ll shut up. Have you ever been on a blind date before? The thought of it makes me nervous, but maybe I’m being silly.

  Okay, I’m really out…

  Have fun visiting your family! Talk soon.

  Cheers,

  Cady

  My stomach dips and rolls, not having a damn thing to do with a turbulent flight. She had mentioned in her last email to me that Teagan was trying to set her up on a date with some dude. An architect, apparently, which I’m betting makes him an uber douche.

  I sort of just ignored that little piece of information she had handed out to me. I’m not even going to mention it when I write back. I won’t mention it because my heart wants me to tell her not to do it. There are a million reasons I can throw out to her to dissuade her from going out with this guy, but my fears are keeping me silent. I don’t want her to think this is anything more than a friendship, and if I ever adm
it to her that my blood boils with jealous thoughts over the mere idea of her going out with someone, she’d think I am certifiably crazy.

  Cady has never hinted at wanting anything more than the easy friendship we’ve slipped into. Our emails are usually light and chatty, but we’ve talked about some deep things as well, which has done nothing but solidify the bonds we’re creating. Yet neither one of us have ever mentioned that night again after that first set of emails, and it’s almost like it’s become taboo to talk about the fact that she and I almost killed each other with an overdose of orgasms.

  We don’t talk about it, but I sure as fuck can’t stop thinking about it. Every woman I meet fails to live up to Cady. I’ve been out clubbing a few times with my teammates, squeezing the most out of my summer vacation. I’ve had plenty of women come on to me, even once had a set of twin sisters wanting to come home with me.

  And every fucking time, I said no.

  Like a fucking loser… I said no.

  I have no commitment to Cady. She would never expect me to stay monogamous to her, and I don’t expect the same of her. We had a one-night experience that we both agreed would never recur because we didn’t live near each other. Instead, we built a solid and close-knit friendship. In fact, I’d say it was my closest friendship at this point in my life.

  But that’s all it is. It’s all it can ever be, because I can’t fucking see her… touch her… taste her. You can’t have a relationship like that outside of the bounds of friendship. It just can’t work, and so, I can’t be mad or jealous about her going out with someone.

  I also need to stop turning my nose up at the abundance of easy pussy that’s paraded in front of me and get back to doing what I do best. Fucking my way through the lovely single ladies of Phoenix.