by S. Walden
He sat up on his knees and studied her bottom.
“You make me fantasize about the dirtiest things,” he said. He ran his hands all over her hips and ass. “Would it bother you if I did this?”
“Did what?” she asked, tensing involuntarily.
He touched her between her legs, then ran his middle finger slowly up her backside, stopping directly on her anus.
“Oh my God!” Cadence squealed. He immediately moved his finger.
“Too much?”
“Oh my God, Mark!” was all she could say. And then the memory flashed in her brain. The night he took her to the club and what he said before they left his apartment: “I’m in love with your ass, Cadence. You don’t even know the things I wanna do to it.”
“You wanna fuck my ass!” she screamed into the cushion.
No reply.
“MARK!”
She felt his chest press hard on her back and his lips next to her ear.
“I won’t do your ass if you don’t want me to,” he whispered. “But maybe I can play with it a little?”
“That’s what people in porns do,” she said desperately.
He chuckled. “I never want you any other way. If by some chance I ever get to do your ass, you’ll still be just as virginal and pure afterwards as the day I met you.”
She relaxed her body.
“How do you do it?” he went on. “You make me wanna use you like a little sex slave and then get on my knees and worship you. I think I’d crawl around behind you if you wanted me to.”
“You don’t make any sense,” Cadence breathed.
“That’s what you do to me,” he replied. He nestled his hand in her backside once more and rubbed her gently.
“You’re one of those crazy sex freaks, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Oh, Cadence, darling. You don’t know the half of it,” he replied.
She could actually feel the lust illuminated in his words. It lit up the living room. She was convinced he knelt behind her glowing. If he put himself inside her again, they’d both pulse brightness for a few seconds before the inevitable explosion.
“Mark . . .”
He plunged deep, and she screamed into the chair cushion. He grabbed her hips, kneaded her ass, pulled her hair. He pumped her hard with purpose. He was getting off, and he was going to explode inside her.
“I love your pussy,” he breathed, stroking her relentlessly.
She clutched the cushion as his thrusts pushed her forward, forward, forward. She was afraid her head would go through the back of the seat!
“Mark!” she cried, feeling an impossible second orgasm building.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded.
She didn’t think twice. She put her hand between her legs and rubbed herself, encouraging another orgasm that was seconds from detonating. Her body never shook so violently. It was all-consuming, and she buried her face in the cushion, muffling and mingling her cries with his as they both came hard for one another.
They’d never experienced timed orgasms. They came close on a few occasions, but someone always managed to go first, unable to hold out for the other. She thought this was something special, and she regretted not being able to see his face when they both toppled over the edge.
He collapsed on top of her, breathing on her cheek. She concentrated on the feel of his sweat-slicked body, the union that had not been broken below. She tensed her muscles around him, and he flinched.
“Cadence . . .”
“What?” she asked, stifling a giggle.
“Please don’t do that. I’m sensitive.”
“Mmhmm. So was I, and look what you did to me.”
“What I did to you? I just gave you another stellar orgasm. That’s what I did!”
“Yeah, but it bordered painful,” she replied.
“Oh, you like it rough,” he said dismissively.
He started to pull out of her, and she clenched her muscles again.
“Cadence!”
She burst out laughing.
“Payback, baby. Only fair.”
“I’ll just stay in you all night if you don’t quit,” he said.
She sighed. “I wouldn’t mind.”
He chuckled and pulled out all the way even as she clenched with all her might, making him grunt with effort.
“My poor dick,” he groaned. “You’re vicious.” He collapsed on the floor on his back.
“Seriously? You just used the hell out of me!” she replied, climbing on top of him and straddling him.
“And you liked the whole thing,” he said. He closed his eyes, and she watched a grin spread across his face.
“Happy?” she whispered.
“Very.”
“So am I,” she replied.
“I hope you feel that way after tomorrow,” Mark said. He cracked open one eye and looked at her.
“Oh, man. I forgot,” Cadence said. The anxiety was immediate. She felt it throb behind her breastbone.
“Those ladies are fun,” Mark said. “You’ll be okay. But a warning: They will ask you a ton of personal questions and not feel badly about it.”
Cadence nodded.
“And they’ll tease you mercilessly,” he went on.
Cadence’s eyes went wide.
Mark opened the other eye. “And I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“I’m terrified,” Cadence cried, and Mark laughed. “Feel sorry for me!”
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted to meet these chicks. I don’t feel sorry for you at all,” he said.
“You’re mean.”
“I’m recuperating,” Mark countered. “Because in twenty minutes or so, I’m fucking you all over again.”
“Oooo, pulling out the “f” word. You must mean business,” Cadence said playfully. She ran her hands over his chest.
He trapped her hands in his. “Oh, I do.” His stare was piercing, reminding her of the time he knelt beside her desk, studying her face as his hand cupped her cheek. She had trapped his hand, made him stop gliding the wet wipe along her jawline because it tickled. If he’d decided to kiss her then, she would have let him. She remembered thinking that perhaps he would, as bold as that would’ve been, but his stare offered the possibility, and she was ready to accept it.
“I should have known you were trouble,” she teased.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“That day you cleaned my hands and face. I should have known right then what kind of trouble you were.”
He chuckled. “Well, try not to share that information with the girls tomorrow.”
“I fear those are exactly the kind of details they’ll try to get out of me,” Cadence said.
“Oh, they will. That’s why I’m warning you,” Mark replied.
“Do you think they’ll like me?” she asked softly.
His heart ached at those words. He could kill her parents for what they’d done to her—broken her heart, turned it fragile and uncertain and desperate for acceptance. He wished his acceptance could be enough, but he wasn’t sure anyone’s could at this point. Still, he was certain of one thing: Those ladies would love her.
“They’ll kidnap you,” Mark said. “I’ll have to negotiate to bring you home.”
She giggled. “What do you think their conditions will be?”
Mark sighed pleasantly. “Oh, they’ll probably force me to go back to church.”
Cadence laughed. “Am I worth it?”
He looked into her eyes. “So worth it.”
She leaned forward and kissed his lips. He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her over.
“No way,” she said.
“Yes.”
“I will die.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Mark!”
“Cadence.”
“Please don’t!” she squealed, laughing. She swatted at his hands running the length of her body, trying to spread her legs apart.
“I’ll be so quick, you won�
�t even know what happened,” he said.
She grinned at him and shook her head in defeat.
“I can’t help it,” he said. “I just have to have you all the time.”
She nodded.
“I really will be gentle this time. I promise.”
“I know you will,” she whispered.
He made love to her again on the living room floor, and when it was over, they fell asleep side by side where they stayed all night and into the morning.
***
Cadence thought she would throw up all over Mrs. Connelly’s front stoop. Her anxiety reached new heights, and she stood shaking, staring at the front door. She couldn’t believe she was here for Sunday afternoon tea with Mark’s mother and her gang.
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” she said even as her fist knocked on the door. “Why did you do that?” she hissed at her hand, then felt like a total weirdo.
She smoothed her skirt and waited.
And waited.
She rang the bell.
And waited.
And . . .
“There you are!” she heard to her left. She looked over at Mrs. Connelly. “We’re in the back, dear. I should have told you over the phone. It’s crispy fall weather, and we’re taking advantage of it!”
Cadence smiled and joined Mrs. Connelly in the back yard.
There they were—all four of them. Chattering, gossiping, chuckling, cackling. They were sitting at a cozy table under a large oak tree Mrs. Connelly had decorated with green, orange, yellow, and red paper lamps. They reminded her of Avery. Oh, how she wished Avery were with her now! She’d know how to handle these broads.
Cadence drew in her breath and approached them.
“There’s our sixth!” one squealed.
“Cadence Cadence! Do you even know how much I love the name ‘Cadence?’ Well, I was just telling my sister, I was, how much I wish my name was ‘Cadence.’ I think my entire life would be different.”
Cadence nodded.
“Honey, you’re cute as a button! You come over here and sit next to me.”
Cadence took the offered seat and looked around for a place to put her purse.
“Naomi, for goodness sake! Can’t even take the poor girl’s purse and put it somewhere?”
Cadence’s purse was yanked out of her hands and given to Mrs. Connelly who took it inside. Her cell phone!! Her connection to Mark! He told her to text “Help” if he needed to pop by unannounced.
“I’m Martha,” the woman beside Cadence said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’m Gypsy,” a little toad of a woman said across the table.
Cadence smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
“That’s Marybeth,” Martha said, pointing to another squat woman sitting next to Gypsy. “She and I are often referred to as M&M. Ha! Get it!” she said, nudging Cadence.
Cadence giggled.
“And I’m LouAnn,” a tall woman said to Cadence’s right. She had the thickest Louisiana accent Cadence had ever heard, and she liked it immediately. “We’re just your regular Steel Magnolias, aren’t we, ladies?”
The women nodded in agreement.
“Don’t be scared of us, Cadence,” LouAnn said. “We’re just gonna pick your brain for a couple of hours, aren’t we, ladies?”
The women kept nodding. Their eyes sparkled, and their faces sported mischievous grins.
“Nothin’ to be alarmed about.” She leaned in close to Cadence. “We just wanna know your deep, dark secrets. That’s all.”
The ladies whooped with laughter.
Marybeth chimed in. “Now don’t you go scarin’ the poor thing to death. She’s only just arrived. And who said you could start drinkin’, LouAnn?”
“Oh, hush up. Not but a little whiskey in there. Can’t do harm to an ant,” she argued.
Cadence was in disbelief. Whiskey in LouAnn’s tea on a Sunday afternoon? An upstanding church member? She was impressed.
“Cadence, honey, I put whiskey in my tea for my health,” LouAnn explained.
“You put whiskey in your tea to get hammered,” Martha pointed out.
Cadence stifled a giggle.
“I put whiskey in my tea because Gawd made whiskey. And if Gawd made whiskey, it’s goin’ in my tea, Martha.”
Mrs. Connelly returned to the table and rolled her eyes.
“Are we talking about your drinking problem again, LouAnn? I swear, we have a guest here and you girls can’t keep things under wraps for more than five minutes.”
LouAnn straightened up in her seat and took a long sip of her whiskey-laced tea. She placed the cup carefully on the plate and addressed Cadence.
“Well, now that it’s all out in the open. Cadence, honey, I may have the slightest drinkin’ problem.”
Gypsy was itching to talk, but Mrs. Connelly bumped her arm and shot her a warning glance.
“These women are supposed to be helping me through my trials and tribulations, but the only thing they’ve done is encourage more drinkin’.”
“God didn’t make whiskey, LouAnn. I don’t know where you got that. Jesus turned water into wine, but wine is not whiskey,” Martha said.
“Oh, hush up, Martha. It’s symbolic. He made alcohol for our enjoyment.”
Cadence bit her lower lip to keep from saying, “Amen.”
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Mrs. Connelly replied. “He made wine for people who could handle it. That’s not you, LouAnn. Give me that cup.” She reached over and snatched the cup, sloshing a bit of tea on LouAnn’s placemat. “And now,” she began, looking at everyone around the table, “let’s back it up, pause, and start over.” She blinked and smiled. “Cucumber sandwiches, anyone?”
The ladies piled their glass sandwich plates with fruit, dip, mini rolls, and crackers. Mrs. Connelly made a plate for Cadence and passed it over.
“Eat what you like, dear. I just gave you a bit of everything,” she said, and Cadence nodded.
“How do you take your tea, honey?” Gypsy asked Cadence.
“Gypsy, this is my house, and I’m supposed to pour the tea,” Mrs. Connelly said.
“Oh, who cares about etiquette? And it’s too damn stuffy anyway.”
“Now, wait a minute. We have a rule about language on Sundays, Gypsy. You know this.”
“That’s her cross to bear,” LouAnn muttered to Cadence.
Cadence nodded and addressed Gypsy. “I’ll have a little milk and one sugar cube.”
She hated tea. Hated it. Who knew that when Fanny explained to her a long time ago that it was a social grace she’d just have to get used to, that she was referring to today? How could Cadence have ever guessed she’d be in Mrs. Connelly’s back yard sharing conversation and cucumber sandwiches?
“I think it’s only fair that everyone else reveal their spiritual struggles since now Cadence knows I’m an alcoholic and Gypsy has a filthy mouth,” LouAnn pointed out.
“Now wait just a minute!” Gypsy cried. “I said ‘damn,’ for heaven’s sake!”
“Oh, come off it, Gypsy,” LouAnn replied. “Everyone at this table knows you drop the “f” bomb like it’s goin’ out of style.”
The “f” bomb? Cadence thought. Did she really just say that?
Gypsy grunted and sipped her tea.
“I gossip incessantly,” Marybeth offered. “It’s the only sin that seems to be widely accepted in the church.”
The ladies burst out laughing.
“Isn’t that the truth,” Mrs. Connelly chimed in.
“That, and judging the hell out of someone,” Gypsy added. She turned to Cadence and said, “I have my issues with the church, dear. I wouldn’t go at all if these ladies didn’t drag me.”
“We drag you because it’s not all bad,” Martha said. “How many times do I have to tell you to just focus on the lesson, Gypsy? Who cares about Laurel?”
“Who’s Laurel?” Cadence asked before she could stop herself. “I’m sorry,”
she added quickly. “It’s none of my business.”
“Oh, let me tell the story since I’m the gossip,” Marybeth said.
The women nodded.
“Laurel has a problem with Gypsy’s tongue,” Marybeth began. “And when Gypsy signed up to organize a luncheon for the senior women at church who are part of a group that puts on holiday events for the nursing homes in the area, Laurel took it upon herself to spread the word that Gypsy might not be the best representative of the group. Since she cusses like a sailor.”
Cadence listened politely while she finished off her cucumber sandwich.
“And when Gypsy called the first meeting, everyone in the room acted stiff and uncomfortable.”
Gypsy shook her head, remembering.
“And when she finally called them out on their weird behavior, one woman said that the group felt she wasn’t the best Christian example and that they wanted to vote in another leader.”
“You can probably guess who I was usurped by,” Gypsy said.
“None other than Laurel herself,” Marybeth explained. “She’d wanted that position since the day the women voted in Gypsy. And she figured out a way to get it—by discrediting Gypsy’s character.”
So this was church politics, Cadence thought. She made mental notes: Do not mess with the senior women at Cornerstone Community Church.
“I love Jesus as much as anyone!” Gypsy cried, slapping her hand on the table and rattling everyone’s teacups. “Just because I say ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’ and ‘hell’s bells’ doesn’t mean I don’t love the Lord!”
“We know, honey,” Martha said soothingly.
Gypsy harrumphed and looked at Cadence.
“Sweetheart, these women at this table taught me that just because I do things a little differently from your standard fundamentalist, it doesn’t mean I have to be an outcast.”
“Aren’t we all outcasts to a degree anyway?” Mrs. Connelly asked, and the women agreed.
“I wish you’d recognize that,” Gypsy went on, addressing Cadence.
Cadence stiffened. “What do you mean?”
“We know you don’t go to church anymore because you feel like you can’t,” Gypsy explained.
“I can’t,” Cadence said. “Plus, my parents go. I can’t see them. I mean, they wouldn’t want to see me. It would be weird.”
The ladies looked at each other.
“What your parents did to you was wrong, honey,” Mrs. Connelly said. “So wrong. But that doesn’t mean you have to hide from them.”
