by M. Sembera
Turning her head toward me, she informed, “Now I know why you never had a girlfriend.”
“And why is that?”
“You’re not at all charming,” she insisted.
“What’s charming? A bunch of pretty words that are fabricated to get into a girl’s pants.”
There was a hint of a laugh in her tone as she questioned, “So you seduce me with, it’s okay that you’re a cow because you’re supposed to be, instead?”
I leaned closer and brushed the end of her nose with mine. “If I was seducing you, I would say that you’re sexy, beautiful, perfect, full of everything and rare but only because it’s true.”
I placed my hand against the side of her neck. Before I had a chance to kiss her, her hands were in my beard and she was kissing me.
Her shirt was off, my hands were full and her mouth was threatening to steal my soul.
I caught her by the wrist just before she unfastened the button on my jeans. “Do I get to touch yours?”
Joie’s breath was shaky as she shook her head.
“You’ve been so good about everything. You shouldn’t have to suffer because of my issues.”
Her issues are my issues. Always have been.
I placed a soft kiss against her lips.
“I don’t get there until you do.”
Chapter Nineteen
Just another little FYI here, a man’s center of gravity is in his boxers. It’s like our compass and every thought, mood and feeling we have is either brought about or reflected there. No matter what any non-predatory type man says, he can stop himself at any time. Our thought process is still there it’s just harder to focus. When it comes to sex there are three stages of arousal which will result in the following repercussions if stopped before getting down to business.
Stage 1: The interested stage. Stopping at this point is nothing more than a nuisance. Fairly easily tolerated. It’s common and most of junior high and high school is spent in this stage.
Stage 2: The I’m ready stage. At this point, stopping sucks. There’s frustration followed by a sick feeling and sometimes anger and or depression.
Stage 3: The point of no return stage. When that bad boy is fully loaded and ready to rock it affects our entire being. It’s almost like there’s some crazy psychological warfare going on inside, driving us a little insane. Stopping at this stage is painful. It physically hurts us. If you’ve ever had a guy tell you ‘you’re killing me’ or ‘I’m gonna die’, it’s because that’s how it feels.
And on a rare occasion you sometimes wake up in Stage 3 hell because you spent the night sleeping next to a girl that’s had you in a constant Stage 2 for over a year and when she offered to lend a helping hand, you said some truly noble shit that you can’t take back without feeling like a complete and total dick.
Waking up next to Joie was the most heartwarming, miserable, exceptional moment of my life. For a half-hour I laid there watching her sleep. A few times I considered getting up and going to get us breakfast but her leg was laying across mine and I didn’t want to disturb her.
When she woke, her hand drug across her forehead as she swiped her hair away from her face, saying, “I’m waking up in my own apartment…with you.”
“How’s it feel?” I asked, running my thumb across her cheek.
“Like… I have to pee.”
“What?”
Joie rolled over and scooted to the end of the mattress before grabbing hold of the side of the table and pulling herself up with it. I rubbed my hands down my faces and beard, laughing as she made her way to the bathroom.
My mission for the day was to find Joie a couch but after coming up empty handed at the first three furniture stores I was over it. She wasn’t being picky about looks it was price. Each picture I sent her was immediately followed by a question of cost and then promptly with a no in response. By the time I pulled up to the fourth store, I swore I wasn’t leaving without a damn sofa bed.
While walking through the fifth store, I spotted a modern looking grey convertible sleeper sofa. I wasn’t into decorating but I thought it would match well with her stuff and fit okay in such a small space.
“This is the one,” I informed, stopping Roe and snapping a picture of it with my cell.
Roe gave his nod of approval as I texted Joie.
Palmer: What do you think?
Joie: How much is it?
Just take a deep breath this will be over soon.
Palmer: I like this one.
Joie: Okay.
Palmer: Okay this is the one?
Joie: How much is it?
Squeezing my phone on my hand, I looked at Roe, complaining, “I swear, I’m about to lose my damn mind.”
Palmer: Who the hell cares? Just pick a damn couch!
It took a few minutes for her to text back.
Joie: I like it.
Finally!
Palmer: Alright, I’ll get it bought and loaded up.
Joie: Thank you.
I let out a deep breath, more like a sigh of relief, then smiled wide at Roe. Mission accomplished.
Since Wren loaned us her truck, I ordered pizza for her and Roe as a thank you for helping out. After we ate, Joie and Wren sat in her kitchen area while Roe and I added a few accessories to her couch.
“It’s like a futon,” Wren remarked when we slid the couch away from the wall and it swiveled into a full size bed.
“But better because it looks like a regular couch. Plus, it has this storage compartment underneath for sheets and we added easy slider wheels to the legs so its light enough for even a pregnant chick to move back and forth,” I informed before sharing, “That was Roe’s idea.”
Joie smiled. “Thank you, Roe.”
“You’re welcome,” he stated with a nod.
Wren stood up, saying, “Y’all did good. I’m gonna head out,” before offering Roe, “Want a ride home?”
They both took their turns telling Dalilah bye as well as Joie before leaving.
I slid Joie’s new bed back into a couch position before patting the cushion.
“Come check it out.”
Pushing herself up out of her chair she took a few steps and then stopped.
“What’s in the bag?” she questioned with a suspicious expression on her face.
“Okay, don’t get all upset on me,” I urged before stepping to the bag by the door and answering, “I got you an extra set of sheets.”
Joie gave a light sigh, tilted her head to the side and replied, “Thank you.”
I’m honestly not sure what to do. This feels like a trick.
I could feel myself scowling as I stood there staring at her.
Rolling her eyes at me, she fussed, “Stop looking at me like that.”
“You’re not mad?”
With a humbled expression, she replied, “No, I’m not. I appreciate everything you’re doing. I don’t mean to be a bitch about everything, I just… I really need to feel like I can do this on my own.”
Wearing an understanding smile, I sat down on the couch and patted the spot next to me.
Joie sat down and rested her head on my shoulder.
“It’s comfy, thank you.”
I was about to hold her hand when I remembered what else was in the bag.
“Since you’re not mad…” I leaned over the arm of the couch, reached down into the bag and pulled out a decorative pillow. “I also go you this.”
Joie looked at the grey pillow, that matched the color of her couch, with a pink heart printed on the center of it and laughed.
“You picked that out?”
“What? It’s cute.”
Chapter Twenty
I sat at my station, craning my neck out to the side to watch Daryl, my least favorite client, try to pick up Joie. She’d sat there for around ten minutes, nodding at him with her eyebrows raised as he explained to her what each of his tattoos stood for.
“The one I’m getting today is a symbol of virility,” he
shared, leaning towards her over the counter.
With a polite smile she replied, “That’s…interesting.”
“Because I’m, you know…” he informed, wagging his eyebrows up and down at her.
She pulled her lips into her mouth then nodded. “Virile?”
“Very,” he stated with a wink.
Come on, who says stuff like that? Oh, yea, Daryl.
Obviously trying to keep from laughing she gave him a wide closed mouth smile before squeaking out, “Okay.”
Running his finger back and forth across the counter, he offered, “So…you want to hook up later?”
“You know I’m pregnant right?”
Daryl’s face fell as he stared at her. “I’m just going to go sit over there and wait.”
Joie nodded as she agreed, “I think you should.”
Shaking off a smile, I waved Daryl over.
Daryl left the shop with badass tattoo of a centaur holding a bow and arrow and no hookup. After he left, I walked up to the counter.
Lifting up the side of my shirt, I pointed to the pink heart with an arrow going through it on my ribcage. “You know what this tattoo stands for?”
“You running out of original ideas to ink on yourself?” she proposed with a laugh.
I assure you each and every one of my thirty-five tattoos’ is meaningful.
“Nope.”
“You deciding to go old school?”
Shaking my head, I shared, “No, ma’am. The heart would be red if that was the case.”
What started out as me teasing her a bit over Daryl’s hitting on her, turned into an actual challenge as she sat there thinking.
“Your love of pink?”
Flashing her a wide smile, I winked, saying, “I do like pink but no.”
Sitting straight up she snapped her fingers. “I got it! Valentine’s Day?”
“What? No. Do you even know me?”
Joie slouched in disappointment.
Leaning over the counter, I hooked my finger in her direction as I lowered my voice. “Come here and I’ll tell you.”
Biting her bottom lip in anticipation, she moved as close to the counter as she could.
“You really wanna know?”
She nodded with a wide smile, resting her elbows against the top of the counter. I leaned the rest of the way in and kissed her on the lips then turned and walked back to my station.
“You’re not going to tell me?” she fussed as I sat down on my stool. “Palmer!”
I leaned my head to the side and smiled at her from across the room. She’ll figure it out.
It had been two weeks since I stayed the night at Joie’s apartment with her. Which happened to be both a relief and a disappointment. I liked sleeping with her. I liked waking up with her. What I didn’t like was falling asleep stiff and waking up in agony. Still, when she asked me, there was no way I was going to say no to her.
Joie was acting odd, from the moment I walked in. She was being really nice and smiling a lot. Not that she normally wasn’t it just seemed like she was being sneaky or something.
“How’s your dinner?” She questioned, more excited about my eating the bowl of macaroni and cheese she served me than I felt she should.
Why? Did you poison it?
I set my fork down in the bowl and replied, “Yea, it’s good.”
With a disappointed expression, she asked, “You’re not going to finish it?”
Seriously, is there poison it?
Pushing the bowl away, I lied, “I’m full.”
She sat there just smiling at me.
Look if you poisoned me, no hard feelings. Just fess up, take me to the ER and we can pretend it never happened.
“For real, Joie, you’re freakin’ me out. What’s going on?”
“Well,” she said, placing her palms down on the table. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Oh, thank God.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I blurted, “I thought you poisoned me.”
“What? Why would I poison you?”
“I don’t know!”
Looking at me like I was stupid, she stated, “Okay, moving on.”
Yea, now it seems ridiculous but two seconds ago it was iffy.
“This is kind of unconventional but then again, so is what whatever it is we’re doing.”
“Alright.”
A nervous feeling stirred in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t sure if we were about to the talk or what was about to happen.
The feelings I had for Joie were deep and meaningful. That didn’t mean that I knew what that meant for us. I cared for her, she was everything but as far as I knew things were playing out as we went along. I liked that about us. It made all the craziness of her being pregnant with Roe’s kid easy. I like easy. As far as I was concerned we were what we were and there was no reason to put a label on it.
A slow smile formed on Joie’s face as she looked across the table at me.
“It’s me isn’t it?”
Genuinely lost at this point, I shrugged my shoulders while shaking my head at her.
“You’re pink heart tattoo.”
A smile automatically pulled at the side of my mouth.
“Yea, that one’s for you.”
She nodded at me and smiled.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about us and what we’re doing here.”
I caught myself holding my breath as I waited for her to get to the point.
Maybe, a light poisoning wouldn’t have been so bad.
“Especially what we’re not doing and truthfully my biggest issue is penetration.”
Blanking out on almost everything she said, I sat there blinking at her.
“I’m sorry, all I heard was penetration.”
Joie rolled her eyes at me before fussing, “Really?”
“It’s just one of those words, ya know.”
Anyway,” she snapped at me, then settled back into a better mood. “I think I have a solution.”
This sounds promising.
“We could try, no sex sex?”
I wanna be excited about this but it sounds sketchy.
“How do we do that?”
A proud smile formed as she answered, “With friction.”
“Friction?”
Nodding at me, she replied, “Your mom loaned me this book and…”
An incredibly scarring flashback hit me as I griped, “Nope, not gonna happen.”
“It wasn’t highlighted, I promise,” she assured me.
Okay, my mom likes to highlight things in books, favorite lines interesting quotes that sort of thing. She has an extensive library that my dad made her for her paperbacks and hardcovers, out of the old marking room that used to be there before I was born. Every book in her library, even the signed ones have at least one highlight inside. Cool, right? Yea, all I’m saying is, there are few things more mortifying than being thirteen years old and hacking your mom’s kindle to get on the internet while you’re grounded only to find sexually explicit passages in the book she’s currently reading highlighted. Highlighted! There was also a note saved on the passage that I don’t want to talk about. I’ve blocked it out of my memory.
“You swear?”
“Yes, Palmer, I swear.”
I sat there for a minute before offering, “Okay, go on.”
I laid across Joie’s bed in in the living room, wearing nothing but my boxers with two pillows under my head as she turned off the lights.
I couldn’t see anything but when I felt her climb onto the bed, I questioned, “Why do we have to keep our underwear on?”
“That’s part of what makes it no sex sex. No penetration just friction and otherwise you might accidentally slip up and then I really would have to throw you down the stairs.”
“Friction it is,” I laughed before she started kissing me.
She spread her fingers across my chest before sliding her hand down my stomach and brushing it over the front of my boxers.
Yea, no need to check. I’ve been ready for months.
Joie’s lips pulled away from mine as she slid back and straddled me.
Her voice was soft while she positioned herself against me. “Give me your hands.”
I took her hands in mine, allowing her to brace herself with my arms as she started to move in smooth fluid motion. I had a feeling this was going to end with me stuck in Stage 3 hell later but who the hell cared.
Not me, friction is my hero.
Her hands were squeezing mine with our fingers laced and our palms pressed together. I couldn’t see her but I could hear and feel her. My mind drifted to the sweetness in her blue eyes, the taste of her lips when we kissed and I was bewildered lying there beneath her. Because, I don’t know. I think I was having a moment. This was new for me and not just because it was no sex sex. I was always the one in control. This though, this was…
Joie’s breath was ragged as she uttered, “Palmer,” and I lost it right along with her.
If I wasn’t already in love with this girl, I would have fallen right then and there.
Chapter Twenty-One
Joie stood in her kitchen wearing a white t-shirt and a cute pair of white and pink striped underwear that I caught a hint of as she raised her arm to pour herself a glass of milk. I walked up behind her, wrapped my arms around her and kissed down the side of her neck.
Still high off our no sex sex from the night before, I asked, “Any chance of us getting down with a little friction before work?”
What? I’m greedy.
I was already ready for work but that could have changed in a heartbeat if she hadn’t shaken her head.
Leaning her over a bit, I slid my hands to her hips and gently pulled her up against me. “You sure?”
Her feet straddled mine as she placed her elbows down on the counter in front of her.
“I don’t feel good.”
Moving my hands over her belly, I questioned, “What’s wrong?”
“It feels like…” she began before I noticed Dalilah move under my hands.
Joie pushed farther against me and I felt something warm and wet on the bottom of my pant legs.
