Southern Hotshot: A North Carolina Highlands Novel

by Peterson, Jessica

  LadyV76: It’s nice to hear. I like you too, Blue. I like how uncomplicated this feels, you know? It’s a welcome antidote to how messy my life feels right now.

  MyBoyBlue4: Look at us, two sad sacks.

  LadyV76: Misery loves company.

  MyBoyBlue4: I’m not miserable when I’m with you. I didn’t think I was miserable in my real life until I met you. But now, the difference between how free I feel in this chat room and how trapped I feel outside of it…

  LadyV76: It’s making you think. That’s not a bad thing. It just sucks at first. I’m trying to wrap my head around the idea that actually living the dream I’ve been after for years is so much harder than I anticipated.

  MyBoyBlue4: Maybe that’s the point?

  LadyV76: I just need to catch a fucking break already. A little bit of sun.

  MyBoyBlue4: I can relate. The rain keeps coming, doesn’t it? I have this feeling that the storm’s only just begun for me.

  LadyV76: For me too. Only way out is through. Such a depressing thought, though.

  MyBoyBlue4: How about I lighten the mood then? Tell me about your first.

  LadyV76: My turn to LOL. My first sexual experience, you mean?

  MyBoyBlue4: First anything. I want to know something true about you.

  LadyV76: I’ll take first orgasm for six hundred, please. This will surprise you, but I was actually a late bloomer. A friend in college was appalled when I told her (at the ripe age of nineteen, mind you) that I had never orgasmed OR masturbated. She gave me some pointers and sent me on my merry way.

  MyBoyBlue4: Details, please.

  LadyV76: I thought you said you didn’t have any juice left?

  MyBoyBlue4: The half chub I’m getting thinking about you touching yourself says otherwise. Give me some visuals, woman.

  LadyV76: I got naked, climbed onto my bathroom counter, and looked at myself in the mirror.

  MyBoyBlue4: Yep, I’m hard.

  LadyV76: How about we flip the script? You tell me what you want me to do.

  MyBoyBlue4: Hey, wasn’t I just telling you how I liked to be bossed around?

  LadyV76: Yeah. But maybe you’ll like to do the bossing around too. And sometimes even alphas need to be taken care of.

  MyBoyBlue4: Baby, I’d love to look after you. Start with your nipples. You’ll find that playing with them makes you wet. You’ve got pretty tits, firm and full, with these puffy pink nipples that are silky when they’re soft. But I want ’em hard. Use your thumbs. Then pinch them. You feel it yet? Your pussy wanting more?

  LadyV76: Oh yeah. I do like that.

  MyBoyBlue4: Reach between your legs. You’re watching yourself in the mirror, right? Good. See that little thing at the top there, where your lips come together? That’s your clit. And that’s what you want to go for. But first, you gotta reach a little lower and find where you’re wet.

  LadyV76: In the center? That’s where I’m getting wet. I have to go inside to find it.

  MyBoyBlue4: Yep. Spread the moisture around. Get yourself nice and slick everywhere. Use your first three fingers and go slowly.

  LadyV76: Oh. OH.

  MyBoyBlue4: I know, baby. I know. Now take your forefinger and glide it over your clit.

  LadyV76: How do I know if I’ve found it?

  MyBoyBlue4: You’ll know.

  LadyV76: Found it. Nearly jumped off the counter.

  MyBoyBlue4: Fuck, baby, I’m hard AF now. By the way, is it ok if I call you baby? I know you didn’t like sweetheart.

  LadyV76: Yeah. Yeah, I actually like baby.

  MyBoyBlue4: The longer you hold off, the better the orgasm will be. So we’re gonna play around a little. First, tell me how wet you are.

  LadyV76: Dripping.

  MyBoyBlue4: God, I want to eat you up right now.

  LadyV76: Ohhhh…

  MyBoyBlue4: Take your hand and play with your nipples again. This time, you’ve got some natural lube to work with. You like?

  LadyV76: Oh, wow. Yes, I do

  MyBoyBlue4: Don’t put your fingers back on your clit. I know you wanna keep touching yourself there, but you’ll come too soon. So glide those fingers through your folds, baby. Take the middle one and put it inside you. Press it against the front wall of your pussy. You feel that spongy bit? Keep pressing on that.

  LadyV76: Ohhhhhhhhhhhh

  MyBoyBlue4: It’s hot, right, watching yourself in the mirror?

  LadyV76: Yeah but dirty too

  MyBoyBlue4: Dirty doesn’t equal bad. If it turns you on, it’s all good, baby. Tell me how you’re feeling. I need you to talk to me, always.

  LadyV76: I’m feeling like…like I’m getting closer to something. Like I’m rising, or it’s rising to meet me. I’m afraid but not, and now I’m wondering, wow, *this* is what I’ve been missing out on.

  MyBoyBlue4: I get it. I was a late bloomer too. My parents were awesome, but they were strict too. No parties, no booze, and definitely no girls or porn. Needless to say, I’ve gone the opposite way in my adult life.

  LadyV76: When it’s good, porn is the best. Oh wait, I don’t know that because I’m nineteen and virginal in every way imaginable. Baby, I’m getting close. Please, please let me come.

  MyBoyBlue4: I like it when you call me that. Okay, I’ll stop torturing you. Take your finger out of your pussy and use your first two fingers on that hand to circle your clit. Play with your nipples with the other hand.

  LadyV76: Magic!

  MyBoyBlue4: See? Life isn’t all bad. Keep circling. And when you feel the pressure, surrender.

  [A pause]

  LadyV76: So. Freaking. Good.

  MyBoyBlue4: I know.

  LadyV76: Blue?

  MyBoyBlue4: Yeah?

  LadyV76: That was my first time willingly playing the submissive. I liked it.

  MyBoyBlue4: Willingly? Explain.

  LadyV76: For a long time, I thought that was what men wanted from women. Submission. So I played along and pretended to enjoy it and faked every orgasm I had after that one on the bathroom counter.

  MyBoyBlue4: God, that’s bleak.

  LadyV76: I know! Anyway, I happened upon some deliciously feminist romance novels, and they convinced me to put my needs and my pleasure at the forefront of my own story. So I tried on my alpha suit, and the rest, as they say, is history. Speaking of…I’d like to make you come if you’d let me.

  MyBoyBlue4: YES

  LadyV76: Imagine you’re the one who helps me learn I’m a natural alpha. You’re the first guy who’s willing to let me fuck him sideways in pursuit of my true pervy self.

  [Pause]

  MyBoyBlue4: Yeah, you can stop there. I came halfway through that second sentence. Right around “sideways.”

  LadyV76: Success! Your mind off the coworker yet?

  MyBoyBlue4: No, actually. But because you just gave my imagination a good workout, I have an idea how to fix the situation. Well, make it less of a train wreck, anyway. Thank you for that.

  LadyV76: Good luck. So, I’m going to go out on a limb here and ask where you are. You don’t have to give me specifics, but since we both are from Carolina, and we just might be close by, any chance you’d be down to meet in person?

  MyBoyBlue4: Hell YES. I’m happy to keep having the best cybersex ever with you. But I’ve felt so confused lately, and the only time I seem to find clarity is when I’m chatting with you. I’m in North Carolina.

  LadyV76: NO SHIT. Me too! Asheville area.

  MyBoyBlue4: Fuck off. I’m ten miles from downtown. You’re kidding, right?

  LadyV76: I’m not. Are you?

  MyBoyBlue4: Nope. Wow. It’s almost like we’re meant to be. Let’s do it. Name the time and place, and I’ll make it happen.

  LadyV76: Next weekend? Right now, they’re calling for snow (!) on Friday, but let’s be real, it’s almost April so the chances of that actually happening are slim to none. I should be able to get that day off…

  MyBoyBlue4: Yeah, I saw that…I was born and raised he
re in the mountains and lemme say April snowstorms are few and far between. I usually work Friday and Saturday nights, but I’ll try to get Friday off too. What’s your favorite bar? Restaurant?

  LadyV76: Let’s do downtown. You know, so people will be around to save me if you really are a serial killer. Cucina is a favorite. Great drinks.

  MyBoyBlue4: Love that spot. I know the owner, so I’ll get us a table. 8 PM? I’ll confirm Fri or Sat tomorrow at work.

  LadyV76: I’ll do the same.

  MyBoyBlue4: Holy shit, do we actually have a date?

  LadyV76: We actually have a date. I can’t tell you how much I’m looking forward to it.

  MyBoyBlue4: Same, girl, same

  LadyV76: PS: I’m glad I could help you make some sense of yourself. Lately, the few times I feel certain in the choices I’ve made are when I’m with you too. Thanks for that.

  MyBoyBlue4: Good night, baby.

  LadyV76: I’ll end with this: Clearly, I don’t know you, but from what I’ve gathered, I don’t think you’re a piece of shit deep down. You’ve got a creative, thoughtful, kind side to you that I’m guessing you don’t show the world (why else would millennials like us seek solace with strangers on the internet?). Whoever you think you’re going to lose or disappoint by being the real you wasn’t meant to be in your life anyway. You do you, boo, and fuck what everyone else thinks.

  MyBoyBlue4: How do you feel about me calling you boo?

  LadyV76: Nah, I’m claiming that as mine. Night, boo.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Samuel

  My brother Rhett eyes me over the small mountain of foil-covered casserole dishes I’ve set in his arms. “Why do you need me to help you deliver this stuff again?”

  “Because I need a second if she challenges me to a duel.”

  I grab my keys and silently inventory the dishes. Short ribs, collards, cornbread. Strawberry and brown sugar buckle for dessert. Should be enough, right?

  Lord above, I hope it’s enough to at least get Emma to talk to me again. Really talk. At this morning’s brunch service, she was maddeningly professional. Polite as all get-out, per usual, but beneath her calm exterior, I could tell a cauldron of rage and hurt was bubbling.

  She refused to look me in the eye, and that was the worst of all. I have never in all my thirty-five years felt like more of a douchebag.

  I have never felt more wrong. I don’t ever want to feel this way again.

  Which means I’ve gotta make some changes. Starting with figuring out who I am behind the bullshit smile I’ve worn for the past fifteen years.

  Last night, I realized the freedom I felt has less to do with the sex than it does with the ability to be myself with someone. Not the smiling bullshitter, but the guy who’s on the sub side of the scale, who likes Van Halen and Game of Thrones and admitting when things are less than perfect. I like who I am when I’m being open-minded. Brave. Playful.

  What else could I be if kept opening up that way in real life? Who else could I connect with the way I connected with Emma yesterday? Yes, it’s scary. Yes, I’m risking loss. Real, painful loss. But sharing truths last night, and then with Emma too, has shown me that I can’t keep living my life so closed off from everyone and everything. The loneliness I felt when Emma walked out of my house after giving me the cold shoulder I absolutely deserved—yeah, it was the worst I’ve felt in a long time.

  Made me think that whether I open up or not, life’s gonna hurt. So why not pick the path that allows me to experience joy along with the pain? It’ll take practice, but I’m willing to try.

  The first thing that came up when I started to think about who I really am: I’m a guy who plays fair. And I haven’t played fair with Emma. Not by a long shot. After the Charleston Heat luncheon, I realized what an asset she truly is. When I think about her quitting now, I get a legit stomachache. I just hope it’s not too late to repair the damage I’ve done.

  Second thing: I’m a guy who loves to feed people. So I’m going to feed Emma. At the very least, her hands might stop shaking at work. I know better than to hope for more than that, but…yeah, I’m praying my peace offering will at least get her to look at me.

  “Who’s ‘she’?” Rhett asks. He’s at the farm for a weekend visit. His primary residence is in Vegas, but during the off-season, he comes up here often.

  “Our new somm.” I meet my brother’s eyes in all seriousness. “I think she may want to kill me.”

  “Ah, right. Hank wouldn’t shut up about her. Said she’s great.” He tilts his head. “You deserve it?”

  “Yup.”

  He crosses himself. “Baby Jesus, please bless our endeavor with Your divine favor, Amen.”

  We load up my favorite pickup truck. It’s a 1967 Chevy, impeccably restored in cobalt blue to match my alma mater.

  It’s also my least obnoxious ride. A Tesla, a Rolls, and a G-Wagon painted a custom shade of matte black with bright gold rims are lined up beside it. If I pulled up at Emma’s door in the G-Wagon, I can guarantee you she’d tell me to go fuck myself. I need her to see that I can be flashy and down to earth. I can be a dick, but there’s also a hidden damsel inside me. I contain multitudes. If only I could figure out how to manage those multitudes so they don’t piss me off or drive me to push everyone away.

  “You got flour in your hair,” Rhett says as we head down the road to Emma’s cottage. “Want to talk about it?”

  “Meh,” I reply, keeping my eyes glued to the windshield.

  “Cool,” he replies. “I’ll be right here when you’re ready.” I shove the truck in park in front of Emma’s place.

  “Whatever happens, we do not leave here until she takes this food. Understood?”

  Rhett dips his head. “Yessir. Is it cool if I ask if y’all are sleeping together? You and the somm?”

  Heat floods my face. “No, Rhett, it is absolutely not cool to ask about my sex life.”

  “You haven’t boned yet, but you want to.” Rhett grins. “Y’all both got it bad, huh?”

  Hand on the door latch, I shoot daggers at my baby brother with my glare. The lie’s on the tip of my tongue. It’d be easy. So damn easy to deny and ignore and go on my merry way.

  But instead, I fall back on the seat and close my eyes, plucking at my swollen eyelids with my thumb and forefinger. I’m tired, so damn tired of pretending. Living that way hasn’t made me feel merry in a long-ass time, which is why I’m determined to change.

  “Please don’t tell Beau,” I say, keeping my voice low. “I promised him I’d keep it in my pants. But things with Emma—they just keep getting out of hand. I don’t know what to do, Rhett.”

  Rhett puts a hand on my shoulder. “I won’t say a thing. I’m sorry, brother, that you’ve gotten yourself into a pickle. It’s not like you.”

  “I know,” I say. “I feel like I met her and hated her, and now all of a sudden, I adore her and I’m in deep. She’s doing everything right while I’m over here getting it all wrong. I’m gonna fix it. Well, I hope I can fix it, anyway, but I’m not entirely sure how.”

  “You’re scared.” He squeezes my shoulder. “That’s a totally natural response. But you being a prick? That isn’t. You’re better than that.”

  Pushing the heel of my hand into the steering wheel, I curl my fingers around it and hold it in a death grip. “Mama and Daddy raised us better than that. Yes, I know.”

  “You really do know.” Rhett holds up the casseroles. “Exhibit A. See? You’re headed in the right direction. I think maybe you’re getting overwhelmed by the bigger picture here. Coach is always using this metaphor of, you know, how do you eat an elephant? You do it one bite at a time. How do you engage in sexual relations with your coworker without it blowing up in your faces? You move in the right direction one step at a time.”

  “Listen, Bill Clinton, I’m not sure we’ll be continuing said relations.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I was an asshole, and I don’t deserve her. Also, there
’s this other girl I’ve been talking to. Not sure what’ll come of it, but it’d be a hell of a lot less complicated than what’s gone down with Emma.”

  Rhett nods. “That’s fair. But you still need to make things right with Em. I’ve only heard great things about her somm skills, so we don’t want to lose her.”

  “Exactly.”

  “So be thoughtful. Be intentional. And be you—the man Mama and Daddy raised.”

  I look at my brother. “That was a pretty solid speech.”

  “Thank you kindly,” Rhett says. “Just because I’m the youngest Beauregard brother doesn’t mean I can’t be the wisest.”

  “You think it’s wise to keep playing the game that gave your father and your brother a degenerative brain disease?”

  Rhett just rolls his eyes. “Stop trying to change the subject. This is about you. C’mon, let’s go win your girl back with some signature Samuel Beauregard hospitality.”

  “She’s not my girl, and I’m not winning her back. But the short ribs did turn out pretty damn good.”

  “Samuel, anything you make is good. Let’s go.”

  My heart hammers as we wait for Emma to answer the door. I knock once. Twice. I start to sweat. I can’t just leave all this food on her doorstep. One, Dave and Eddie might catch a whiff and come visit. And two, I really want to see Emma outside of work. I want to look her in the eye and tell her how fucking sorry I am.

  We get lucky. Just when I’m about to call it quits, Emma answers the door. Sheer terror flashes across her eyes at the same moment it darts through my chest.

  She’s scared. I’m scared. The intense vulnerability of the moment makes me want to run and hide.

  Instead, I stand still with a bowl of collards in one hand and a Pyrex dish of cornbread in the other.

  The first few seconds are excruciating. But I know I’m on to something good when the terror in her gaze dissolves into confusion.

  “What’s this?” she asks, brow furrowing as she takes in the dishes.

  “Dinner. And, hopefully, lunch tomorrow and the next day. I made enough to last most of the week, actually.”

  Emma blinks. She looks cute as hell in her leggings and hoodie. Her hair is loose, falling in waves past her shoulders. For half a heartbeat, I can taste her pussy in my mouth. Sweet, salty, and hot.