Page 34 of Keeping It
We slept naked last night, which was a test of my self-control, because even after the last orgasm had been rung from my body, I wanted to mount him like a stallion and claim him completely. It was an out of body experience. I didn’t feel like me. I feel new. He gave me a piece of myself I didn’t know I was missing. The phone lights to life and his text message pops up on the screen.Last night was the best night of my life.Another message chimes a second later.In case you didn’t see my note…you are perfect.My heart skips a beat. I hear I love you, inside those three words and I wonder if that’s his intent. It’s scary and exciting, and everything in my life is being tilted all at once in another direction.I’m at the B&B this morning before I head in to work. I hired a contractor to get some of the demo finished while I’m we’re NYC. Is that cheating?The message pops on my screen moments before I step into the steaming shower.
I type back.Hiring demo help isn’t cheating. I guess…because you are busy saving the world and stuff. I’ll be splitting my time between the office and the garage today. Call me if you need help.I hit send.
I had to borrow your bicycle.Well, I guess he would have to.
I tap back. Don’t break it, beast.
I’m getting into the shower.I tell him. Because it’s a fact. The secondary meaning to that statement rushes ahead and I wish I could take it back. I’m not a forward woman. Southern women are raised to be mild mannered and well behaved. Telling a man I’m naked and about to wash myself is bad form. Last night I broke about seventy-five rules for the southern lady, so I shouldn’t get red cheeked now. I make a mental reminder to talk to Shirley about the art of blow jobs, and get into the shower.
Memories from the night before trickle in and the warmth spreads across my body so quickly, I’m hot before my hair is even wet. He said it was perfect, but my stomach knots when I think about his huge shaft in my mouth. How is that supposed to fit inside me?
Taking the bottle of honeysuckle scented body wash from the shelf I pour some into my hands and lather them together before working them over my legs, arms, my neck—washing away his kisses. Then I let my fingers gently glide between my legs. I’m still sore from his fingers working me over and over. I’m still wet, more than ready, and it is doubtful that desire is going anywhere until he’s satiated me. Tentatively, I slip one fingertip into my slick entrance. “There’s no way it’s going to fit. No way,” I say out loud. Water and soapy bubbles cascade down my body as I try to perform fuzzy math. His dick is too big. Shaking my head I resolve to talk to Shirley about that, too. While one of my other friends, Malena perhaps, might have more delicate sex advice, Shirley is the only person I want knowing about my extracurricular activities. It’s my only fair chance of keeping my business off the town radar while still getting the knowledge I need.
Once I’m downstairs in the office sorting through paperwork and returning emails, the land line rings. I recognize her number right away.
“What took you so long to call me back,” I ask. “What if I was in trouble?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Ease off the volume button, girl. I, ah, just got my phone back. I left it somewhere last night.”
Rolling my eyes, I wind the coiled cord around my finger. “Whose house was it last night, Shirl?”
“Caleb,” she says, sighing.
“Again? That’s the third time in one week. What’s going on between you two? I thought you weren’t interested in him in that way?”
“What way?”
“More than sex,” I reply.
She grunts. “Its good sex so it’s nice when I forget my phone. I can wake up and get a little action. Speaking of,” she says, her sentence trailing off. “You mentioned in the voicemail, you needed some advice. The only reason you’d want my advice is if it was something you don’t know about. Let’s face it. You know everything. Except for one area of inexperience. Did. You. Fuck. That. Beautiful. Man?”
Cringing, I debate talking to someone else, but she is right. She knows things I don’t. Things I need to know. “No!” I exclaim, cradling the phone between my ear and neck so I can pick up my chiming cell phone. “Maybe we should talk about this in person. We had dinner with my parents last night.”
“And what happened after?” She goes straight for the jugular. It’s exhausting.
“He invited me to go to New York City with him before his mission.”
“You bitch. I hate you,” Shirley crows. “When?”
I tell her the details I’m sure of and explain how my parents now approve of him. It kind of spills out and I know this is how rumors start, how the amazing things in one’s life turn into something awful and callous because it doesn’t exist in someone else’s, but I can’t help myself. Shirley eats up every single word. She asks about the Homer property and I tell her about the plans he has finalized and the work that’s being done as we speak.
“It seems everything is perfect for you, Caroline.” She emphasizes the word perfect because I told her what he said about me. For the most part she does seem happy for me, though I know what will happen next even if she is my best friend. Whatever Tahoe and I have won’t be ours anymore. It will belong to Bronze Bay.
I clear my throat. “Please don’t tell anyone, Shirl. We are taking things slow.”
Her eye roll can be heard through the phone line. “What did you have to ask me?”
Tahoe texts me again and I thumb a button to clear the screen. “Tell me how to give a proper blow job, Shirley. Don’t leave out any details. I mean, I think I did it right because he…came, but what are the rules? Are there rules? Swallow, spit? Standing, sitting, laying down? These are the things I need you to tell me and so help me, God, Shirley you better not make fun of me. I called you because I knew you would give it to me straight. No bullshit.”
Shirley’s laughter overshadows another small ping on my cell phone. I hit another button to try to clear the screen but it seems to have sent a message instead.
“Shirley,” I croak, reality setting in.
She pauses long enough to ask what else I want to know. “I just sent him a voice message.”
Her laughter rings out again, louder this time. “Everything I just said. Can I delete it before he opens it?” As I say it I notice the message says,Readunderneath it. “Oh my gosh! This is worse than me asking for blow job advice to begin with. Now he knows I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Honey, chances are last night he knew you didn’t know what you were doing,” she replies. “Are you ready? I’m going to give you the rundown. Get a notepad and some paper, I have a shift in an hour.”
