Page 36 of Kiss My Glass
“Bedroom?” I murmur.
“No,” she breathes. “I want you to take me on the bench.”
The bench. The hard, unforgiving wooden bench. With the vises and other metal implements attached. And the possibility of splinters in places where no splinters should be.
Frankie’s unfastened my pants and now her hand is inside my Calvins and reaching for my fully primed cock. Bench it is.
Except—
“Condoms are upstairs,” I say.
Frankie halts. She slides her hand out of my pants, which is good because if she’d got a firm hold on my guy, I suspect there might have been an embarrassing incident.
“You could go get them,” she says.
“I could,” I agree. “But upstairs there’s also a big soft, comfortable bed that isn’t covered with dangerous metal things and would allow for unrestrained freedom of movement.”
Frankie smiles. “City-boy wimp.”
“Guilty and unrepentant.”
“Oh, all right…”
With the athleticism she demonstrated at our dance lesson, she hops off me and holds out a hand to pull me up. As my pants are falling half off, I have no dignity to preserve so I take it. She hauls me to my feet like it’s no effort at all.
“You have some serious strength there,” I remark. “I’m impressed.”
I take a step and my knee twinges. Not used to those quick swivel turns.
Frankie catches my wince, and grins. “Want me to fireman’s lift you up the stairs?”
Okay, I have a shred of dignity left. “I’ll manage.”
“Huh,” says Frankie when she sees the bedroom. “There’s a bed, and—nope, that’s it. Spartan.”
“I half expected the sheets to be plaid flannel,” I say. “But they’re white cotton. Good thread count, too.”
“City boy.”
Frankie says it half-heartedly, like her mind is on something else. I wonder if it’s the history of this particular bedroom. I suppose it is a bit weird to think the last people who had sex here were Cam and my sister, though Shelby assured me they’d taken the old mattress with them.
The bedroom only has one window, which given the steep pitch of the roof is more of a skylight. It’s just after sunset and the glimpse of sky through the trees is an intense indigo blue, pin-pricked by the first stars. I’ve switched on the bedside light, but it’s still dim in here. So dim, I can’t fully make out the expression on Frankie’s face.
I move towards her, slowly, and just stand there, with my arms by my side. She looks up at me, her eyebrows at half-Angry Bird. I worry that she’s judging me and I’m falling short. I really hope that’s not the case.
Then she says, “I’ve worked hard to love my body. But I’m still self-conscious about getting naked for the first time.”
Relief. It’s not about me.
“Especially with someone like you,” she continues.
Okay, so it’s a little about me.
“You’re in the perfect body category,” Frankie says. “Like all your family, and most of mine. Shelby and Tyler have always been slim, like Mom. Even though Jackson and Dad were bigger, people referred to them as ‘burly’ or ‘solid’. I’m the only one who ever got called ‘fat’ at school.”
“Kids are assholes,” I say. “And if it helps, I had a late growth spurt. For all of elementary and most of middle school, I was really small. Even my kid brother Max was taller than me at one point. So, until I finally did a heap of growing between fifteen and sixteen, even my friends called me Danny Du-Runt. Fun times.”
I’ve made her smile. It’s reluctant but it’s a smile.
