by Tia Siren
Well, the way I felt about Kendra was simple. I still had to end things with Loren before I started things up with Kendra. But even that, I didn’t care about. I actually looked forward to ending things with Loren, especially if it meant that I could finally be with Kendra.
Chapter 30
Kendra
Sundays were supposed to be my favorite day of the week. For a lot of people, this wasn’t always the case because they had work on Mondays, which was rough after coming off their two free days. But for me, it was different. My schedule often changed from week to week. I didn’t always have Saturdays off, and I didn’t always work on Monday. My shifts moved around pretty consistently, depending on what I needed to do at the store. But one thing that always remained consistent was that I had Sunday off. As such, Sunday had come to be my favorite day of the week. Bar none.
My Sundays usually followed a pretty consistent pattern. I always slept in. Always. That was a rule more than anything, and I never broke it. I followed this up with brunch, then a stroll through the park, before settling myself down to either a movie or a book. Sometimes, I would catch up with friends, and sometimes, I would spend the day in isolation. It was totally up to me, and that was what made the day so great.
Unfortunately, the Sunday after Grant ended things for good, and after I had sold that mold to Loren, just wasn’t living up to the high expectations I had set for it. Not even close.
It started with the fact that I couldn’t sleep. It had been that way since Friday, carrying through to my Saturday and well into Sunday. The fact that I was up before ten in the morning should have been an indication to me that the day wasn’t going to be so hot. This was followed by the realization that the cafe I always went to for brunch had closed down. My weekend got even crappier the moment that I stepped in dog poo when I was sulking on my walk home.
But really, I was in such a bad mood because of Grant and my love life in general. Now that he had all but announced that he was done with me, I had begun to realize that I was very much alone. To make matters worse, I had zero romantic prospects on the horizon. It was a cold and depressing thought, and one that I was sure was going to destroy the rest of my Sunday if I didn’t do something about it.
So, to try and counter this problem, I gave Liz a call, sure that she would cheer me up.
“Seriously, how do you work in a candy store and lose weight?” Liz asked as we sat down to lunch. “It makes no sense.”
She was off to a flying start. When I called her, I specifically instructed her that I needed cheering up. She was more than willing to help. She recommended her favorite restaurant for lunch and wasted no time lifting my spirits.
“Also,” she continued. “I love your hair. New style?”
“Just a bun,” I pointed out, still managing to smile over the way she was beaming and fawning over me.
“Well, it’s divine. Divine!” She threw her hands in the air in excitement. “Ah yes,” she began as the waiter came over, mistaking her hands in the air for a demand for service. “I’ll have the sweetest, fattiest thing you have on the menu. And she will, too. And a bottle of red. Thank you very much.” The waiter nodded and scurried away, scribbling all the while.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I said.
“What? The wine or the food? Because I think both, if utilized correctly, are fabulous ideas.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, sighing to myself as I did.
“Okay, that’s it. What’s wrong? Spill it. All of it.”
“What?” I asked, looking away. “Nothing. I just wasn’t feeling great, but I do now. Thanks so much. You’ve really helped.” I knew what was going to happen. Liz was going to try and get me to talk about what was bothering me. A useful strategy to be sure, but it wasn’t something I felt like doing right now.
“Bullshit. There is something bothering you. I know there is. I can feel it. I can sense it. And if you don’t tell me I’ll, I don’t know. I’ll have to embarrass you until you relent.”
“Embarrass me? What are you talking about?”
“Talking about things is the best way to heal. I’m only trying to help. I want you to keep that in mind over the next few moments, okay? That is, until you agree to start talking.” As she spoke she began to look around the restaurant, her eyes dancing from one person to another as if she were looking for something.
I knew what she was doing. She was about to engage in something outrageous in the hopes that it would get me to spill the beans. Often, it worked just like that, as Liz had no shame whatsoever. But that day, I didn’t care. She could go on making a fool of herself all she liked. There was no way I was talking.
“Excuse me, sir,” Liz spoke across the restaurant to an older male sitting at a nearby table. He was in his seventies at least and looked rather uptight, as did his wife “What is that you are eating?”
“Prawn cutlets,” the man responded pleasantly, taking one off his plate and biting into it.
“How are they?” Liz asked, standing up now and walking toward the man. I braced myself as she did, not sure what she was going to do.
“Delicious,” the man responded, crumbs dropping down his chin and onto his lap.
“Really?” Liz asked. As she did, she reached down and plucked a cutlet off the man’s plate. And then, before he had a chance to respond in any way, she popped it into her mouth. But she wasn’t done yet. “Blech,” she said, opening her mouth and letting the cutlet drop from it and back onto the plate. “Not for me at all.”
I watched, mouth hanging agape as she wandered back toward me and the table, leaving the man and his uptight looking wife behind. They both stared at her back, their mouths also hanging open in surprise. I hoped that was it for Liz and that she had given up. But I should have known better.
As she fell into her seat, she noticed a young mother with what must have been her baby son at the table right by ours.
“What an adorable baby!” she exclaimed to the young mother. “How old is he?”
“He’s two,” the mother beamed, evidently happy that her child was receiving such praise.
“Can he count?” she asked, pleasantly. I cringed, wanting to look away but unable to. What was she going to do?
“Up to five,” the mother said, proudly.
“Oh, so she can count this—”
Liz never finished what she was about to do because I didn’t let her. As she raised her hand, I leaped forward and grabbed it, before shoving it back down.
“It really is a beautiful baby,” I said hurriedly to the mother before pulling Liz’s attention back to me. I couldn’t be certain, but I was pretty sure that Liz was about to give that baby the finger.
“So, you’ll talk?” Liz asked casually, as if she hadn’t just embarrassed herself and me.
“Fine, fine I’ll talk,” I said, shaking my head at myself and the thought that I could have ever beaten Liz.
“Okay, spill it. What has you down?”
“It’s Grant,” I said with a sigh. “He’s the reason I’m feeling like this.”
“Explain,” she said simply as she leaned forward, her elbows on the table and her chin resting in her hands.
So I explained. Everything. I started with the chocolate-flavored dildo in the restaurant and what he had made me do. I then went into detail about the night at the club, the dinner we had, the blowjob I had given him in the car. This transitioned to the sex we had, the butt plug he had made me wear, and the sex we had in his apartment. From there, I detailed the trip we had taken to Atlantic City, the blowjob I gave him, followed by the head and sex he gave me, and of course the pussy mold. I then culminated the story by explaining Michael, Loren, his reaction to the whole thing, and how he told me that he couldn’t see me again. Ever.
As I spoke, Liz listened. She really was the perfect audience. She gasped at the right times, sighed when it was appropriate, and even gave me a high five when I described how I had all but tricked Grant into going
down on me.
It was amazing how therapeutic it was to unburden myself to Liz. As I spoke, I could feel the tension releasing itself from my shoulders and back. I could feel a lot of what had me so wound up before, washing away and dissipating. By the time I was finished with the story, our meal had come and gone, our bottle of wine was finished, and I was actually feeling a lot better.
“So,” I said when the story had come to an end. “What do you think? Am I a hopeless case?”
“Not hopeless. No. And first of all. Great story. Really, well done.” She offered me a small clap before continuing. “But I automatically can see what the problem is. You want to hear it?”
“Of course,” I said, wondering what words of wisdom she was about to lay at my feet.
“You’re depressed.”
“Oh, okay?”
“No, no, hear me out. Everything you told me led me to one simple conclusion. You don’t know how great you are. All of it was you trying to please Grant when really, it should have been the other way around. Girl, you need to love yourself if you want someone else to love you, too. You feel me?”
“I guess so,” I began, kind of seeing her point. True, my self-confidence wasn’t exactly at its highest, but oddly enough, Grant had actually helped it improve. He hadn’t destroyed it. Or at least, I thought he had.
“And, when it’s all said and done, there are always plenty more fish in the sea. Regardless of how big his dick is.”
I couldn’t help but smirk at that one. Liz always had a way of getting a laugh out of me, regardless of how inappropriate it may have been. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Of course, I am! Now, it’s a Sunday, so there is only one thing we can do.”
“What’s that?”
“Keep this high going. Come on, let’s go to a bar and throw a few more back. On me.”
With no real choice, and feeling a little tipsy already, I nodded and allowed myself to be led from the restaurant and toward whatever bar Liz had chosen for us. All the while though, I thought on what she had said, about there being plenty more fish in the sea. It was an expression that I had always disliked because as good as it sounded, it wasn’t one hundred percent accurate.
Sure, there were plenty more fish in the sea. I didn’t deny that. But that wasn’t really the point. I didn’t want more fish. I wanted Grant, and Grant only. And coming to that realization made me decide that I didn’t care what Grant had said. I didn’t care if he thought that it would be best if he never saw me again. I was going to get him back, one way or the other.
Chapter 31
Grant
When you’re waiting for someone, every minute can feel like an hour. You check your watch every thirty seconds, assuming that minutes have flown by, only to find that time has somehow stood still. This phenomenon goes double when the reason you are waiting for that particular person is to confess your feelings to them. I just hoped that I would be able to do it.
It was 8:30 a.m. and I was at the store, waiting for Kendra. I knew that she had a habit of getting in early, especially on a Monday morning. I wanted a chance to talk to her alone before the store opened. I didn’t know exactly how the conversation was going to play out so I wanted to ensure that the store would be nice and empty should anything go down, during or after.
I knew what I had to do. I knew that I had to admit fault and ask for forgiveness. I had to tell her how I really felt and explain why I had been acting the way I had been.
But I also knew myself too well. I also knew Kendra. I knew that even if I had the right intentions, the simplest of things might send things spinning out of control. I could spend hours planning the perfect apology, but when it came to the two of us, anything could happen. She just had that effect on me.
The streets of New York were different this early in the morning. The tourists weren’t quite out and about yet. That just left the miserable workers. And as it was a Monday, that only served to compound their misery. Heads down and shoulders hunched, they pushed and shoved to get past each other as they made their way to work. No one looked up or made any sort of eye contact. Despite the heat, it was a cold, isolating experience.
I watched this go on for several minutes until I finally spotted Kendra coming my way. Like everyone else, she walked with the same depressed skulk, her eyes down, not looking ahead. It was because of this that she didn’t see me waiting for her. Not until she was literally at the front door, shuffling around the inside of her purse looking for her keys.
“Good morning,” I said, speaking directly into her ear.
“Jesus!” she screamed, jumping in the air as she spun around to face me. I took an odd delight in the reaction that I had given her, as she worked to steady her breathing. “What are you doing here?”
“I can’t visit my own store?” I said innocently, making sure that she didn’t mistake my question for purposeful rudeness.
“I guess so,” she said, blankly. She opened the door to the store and walked in. I followed her inside, only just noticing the way that she staggered a little as she walked. I also took note of her scrunched up face and the way she kept on touching her hand to her head.
“Had a few too many drinks last night?” I asked, chuckling.
She headed over to the counter and proceeded to open the register. I leaned against the counter and watched her.
“Yesterday afternoon,” she said, squeezing her eyes together in an attempt to refocus them.
“I’m actually going to be honest,” I began. “I came here to make a return.”
“A return?” she asked, looking confused. Well, that was at first anyway. Within seconds of her asking the question, I could see her face change to one of realization. She then worked monstrously hard to look anywhere but directly at me.
“Yeah, I was gifted a gummy mold of a pussy yesterday, if you can believe that? The person who gave it to me thought it terribly funny. I, on the other hand, had a different reaction.”
“Sorry about that,” she said in a whisper, still not looking at me.
“That wasn’t very nice, Kendra. Next time, you should just send me a photo of you giving me the middle finger instead.”
“That wasn’t what I meant by it.”
“Then what did you mean by it?” I didn’t raise my voice or shout. I just wanted to know the answer. Was she still interested in me? Was she trying to make me jealous or send me some sort of a message? Women were hard enough to work out at the best of times. Kendra was near impossible.
“It didn’t mean anything,” she said, still looking down. “I just thought. I don’t know.”
“Well, I actually came here to return the gift and to do one other thing.” I then turned around and walked away from the counter into the center of the store. Sitting there, as I knew it would be, was the display with the rest of Kendra’s gummy molds.
The molds sat on a small table, stacked up on one another like a pyramid. Without thought or hesitation, I grabbed the corner of the table and flipped the entire thing in the air.
“What are you doing?” Kendra yelled, rushing from behind the counter toward the now totaled display. Candy vaginas littered the floor, like something out of a weird dream.
“I don’t want these being sold here. Understand?” My voice was more heated now. My heartbeat hammered in my chest and I breathed heavily. Maybe that was a slight over reaction, but I didn’t care. I needed a way to get the point across. She wasn’t for anyone else. Even if it was just a candy piece of her.
“No, I don’t understand,” she said. “You told me I could do whatever I wanted to with them.”
“Well, that was before, and this is now.”
“Now? What’s changed? Tell me? In the last few days, what has changed?” She had her hands on her hips, and her nostrils flared. She was mad and she had every right to be. The fucked-up thing was that she had just presented me with the perfect opportunity to confess everything to her. I could have told her, then and there, that wh
at had changed were my feelings for her. That I didn’t want anyone else but me to have her. But I couldn’t bring myself to say the words for some reason.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, the energy draining from me. “Just do what I ask.” I bent down and scooped up a handful of pussy. With them in hand, I headed across the store toward the back storage room. But Kendra wasn’t letting me off the hook that easily.
As I threw the door open and walked in, she was right behind me. “What is your problem?”
“Me?” I fired back, dumping the molds in a giant trash can. “You’re the one that sent me one of these as a gag. You’re the one that sold my girlfriend a model of your own pussy, after I specifically told you that we were over.” Wow, way to go, Grant. This was not going the way I’d expected it to go. So much for being calm and cordial.
“I didn’t know she was your girlfriend,” Kendra said. “I just thought. I don’t know why I did that, okay? I was mad and upset, and I wanted to get back at you.”
“Get back at me? For what? Being honest with you for once and telling you how I feel? For ending things before either one of us got hurt more than we already had? Is that what you wanted to get back at me for?”
I could tell that I had caught her off guard, even if what I had said wasn’t one hundred percent true. Although, it was close enough. When we had last seen each other and I had given her back the molds, I all but told her that we couldn’t be together because I was insanely jealous and could never get past that. But now it seemed like I wasn’t the only one.
“Wait a minute,” I began. “Were you jealous? Is that why you sold Loren the mold?”
“No. I wasn’t jealous.” She looked away from me when she spoke, back out the door and into the empty store. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that she was lying.
