Page 6 of Sour Brew Face

“That’s some serious promising.”

“Bye, Langston.”

“Bye, Mo.” I hang up my phone with a smile. I’m disappointed I won’t see him, and even though he said he’d call, I’m not going to hold my breath.

Well, my plans for the evening have changed. Guess I peeled my potato for nothing, since he isn’t going to mash it. I reach under my shirt in the back and unclasp my bra. Whipping it out, I throw it across my living room, then unbuckle my pants. Ahh, that’s good. I settle back into the couch, grab the remote, and hit play onCorner Gas.

Langston 6.

“Is someone dead?” I pull the phone away from my ear and stare at the display. I dialed the right number. “Have aliens invaded?” I decide against speaking, just to see what else she’ll say. “IsBoxLunchhaving a sale on character backpack purses?” I cover the mouthpiece to hide my snort. “If the answer to any of those is NO, then I’m hanging the fuck up.” Her voice is husky and gravelly with sleep and I hate that I woke her up, but I didn’t want her to think I forgot, or I was ghosting her.

“I’m sorry, Mo, I know it’s late.” I finally murmur, enjoying her surprised gasp a little too much. There’s a rustling on the other end before she finally speaks again.

“Langston, how lovely to hear from you.” I laugh at the cultured tone of her voice. “I trust your mother is at home and resting comfortably?”

“Yes, Mo, my mom is at home and sleeping,finally.” I say the last bit exasperated. I love my mother with everything I’ve got, how could I not with everything she’s done for me, but she’s exhausting, especially when she’s sick or in pain.

“That’s good.” She sounds sleepy again and I know she has to work in the morning, but I want to hear her voice more.

“What isBoxLunch?” I ask to keep her talking.

“It’s a store that carries pop culture items.”

“And what’s a character backpack purse?” She perks right up at that question. Describing all the different purses she has that resemble different movie characters: Rocket and Groot, Gus-Gus fromCinderella, Rex fromToy Story. She even runs me through the other ones that are available that she’s had to hold herself back from buying, but there’s a wistfulness to her words that warms my heart.

“Enough about my purse obsession. Are you an only child?” Mo asks out of nowhere and I’m not prepared for the question.

“Uh…no, I have a younger brother, Emerson. We…uh…we don’t talk much anymore.”

“Oh.” It’s not an inquiry for more information, but it’s an opening if I want to elaborate. I shimmy down in bed slightly, placing the phone on my chest and hitting the speakerphone button.

“My dad cut out when Emerson was a few years old. My mom became our everything and she worked hard to take care of us. When it was time for him to go to college, they argued about where he wanted to go. She wanted him to remain close to home, he wanted to go as far away as possible. In the end, he left and never looked back. That was almost 11 years ago.”

“That sucks, Lang. And it’s just been you and your mom since? She hasn’t dated?”

I snort at the thought. “No, no dating for mom. She’s…set in her ways.” I clear my throat, “What about you, any brothers or sisters? Are you close with your parents?”

There’s a lengthy pause, pregnant with awkwardness. I have somehow shoved my foot into my mouth, just not sure how.

“I don’t know.” She answers firmly. “I grew up in the foster care system, spent most of my life in a group home. I wasn’t close to anyone, the kids tend to leave, move around, or get adopted, so I didn’t think it a good idea to make friends. Especially, when you’re the one that never seems to go anywhere. A few of the nuns that volunteered were friendly and I still speak to a couple of them that were younger in age.”

“Mary Opal…”

“When I was old enough, I got a job, then I got a second one. When I graduated high school, I had full scholarships to several schools, but went with Penn State University, majored in chemistry, worked more jobs.” She pauses, “I worked my ass off for years at a chemical company, living in a shitty apartment, using public transportation, and eating ramen noodles so I could save as much as possible. Then last year, I saw the ad for Ordinary Guys Brewing and decided to go for it.”

“I…I…fuck, that’s impressive. Is it weird that I’m hard as iron at the thought of how fucking smart you are?”

Snorting, she asks, “Brains do it for you, huh?”

I palm my growing erection through my boxers and groan into the phone. “Yeah, I think they do. At least your brains. Your fortitude. Your confidence.”

I can hear her smile through the phone. “Good to know.”

“I mean it, Mo.”

“No, I know you do. I’m not minimizing anything. I worked really hard; I know that. I had no life outside of school and work. I am who I am. I find that there will always be people whose standards I am unable to meet, and others that I will always far exceed. It’s the nature of the beast. So far in my love life, the prospects have been grim, but professionally, damn, I love those ordinary guys and I’ve finally found my people, my family.”

Her voice, the self-awareness, her accomplishments, the rapid speed of my hand on my length, I cum…and I cum hard. Groaning and grunting as my cock erupts.

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