Page 36 of Caught A Vibe

“Nope, just warm salt, but I’m not going to let that bring me down.”

“You are certainly in a good mood.”

“I feel like I’ve turned a corner. I can’t wait until I can get back to work. Panicking about my business between involuntary naps and useless meetings has been driving me nuts. I need my brain back!” She dips the sandwich in the soup and takes another bite. This is the most she’s eaten all week. I can’t help but hope she has truly turned the corner on this virus.

“Don’t worry about work. Just focus on getting better.”

She takes another bite. “I really wish I could taste this. My mom used to make this for me all the time when I was a kid.”

“Really? Mine too. What else did she make? I’m running out of ideas.”

“Campbell’s chicken noodle, oatmeal, and chicken nuggets. I didn’t ever get to have chicken nuggets unless I was sick. Such a weird thing to remember.”

“My mom always babied me when I was sick. The rest of the time I ate what my father wanted for dinner, and I’d like it, damn it. But when I was sick, Mom would make all my favorites. Grilled cheese and tomato soup, homemade chicken soup with those little oyster crackers, jello with marshmallows on top…”

She grins. “I wondered where you got the idea. Your mom sounds great.”

I go quiet. Was she? The woman who raised me had largely been a bystander to my father’s anger. Sure, when I was home sick and he was at work she had cared for me. But what about all the other times she stood by while he badgered me about my grades or my focus, refusing to even hear the letters ADHD from my teachers?

But that’s too heavy to lay into this conversation, so I shrug and divert. “What about your mom? Tell me about her.”

Penny stirs her soup and answers without looking at me. “Yeah, not winning any mother of the year awards there. My dad decided pretty early on he wasn’t cut out for family life. He provided for us, but he worked late a lot. And I’m not so sure he was working alone, if you know what I mean. Mom coped by drinking. And doing whatever recreational drugs she could get her hands on. So she was there, but not really there, most of the time. Notice my sick foods were just ‘add hot water’ or fast-food takeout? I learned how to take care of myself early on.”

“Well…” I trail off. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories while she already feels like shit. “Where does ice cream fall on your list of sickbed foods?”

“Ice cream is always at the top of every list.”

“Ah, but what flavor?”

“The one with the most chocolate. You?”

“Plain vanilla.”

“Vanilla? With all of the options, you pick vanilla?”

“I don’t like being surprised by things in my ice cream. I like to add my favorites and make it just how I want. Don’t judge me!”

“Oh, I am judging hard.” She might be judging, but she’s also laughing again.

“Okay, Judgy McJudgerton, you can just finish your lunch by yourself.”

“Noooo! Don’t go!” She laughs as I slowly lower my laptop screen and cut her off.

I’m relieved she’s feeling better. I hadn’t realized how heavy the worry had been until just now when I set it down.

I know I should get some more work done or start tidying because she’ll likely be up and about soon, but just seeing her all curled up in bed and happy has gotten me too excited for any of that. I’ve kept to her request of just being her friend while I’m stuck here. She’s been too sick to even think about anything else. But now that she’s on the mend, I can’t help but wonder what comes next.

My brain fast-forwards to all the things I’d like to do with her if we were not-just-friends, and soon I am hard as a rock. That smile on her face, her silk blouse hanging low and loose, her hair tousled from the pillow, looking all satisfied and sleepy… I imagine all the things I could do to make her look like that again.

I should pull up my apartment searches to see if anything has shifted, but sitting in these jeans right now is going to be uncomfortable. Maybe a hot shower. Clear my mind. Maybe clear my pipes too.

The hot water flowing over me does little to calm things down, and after weeks of abstinence I need to handle this. My mind starts to spin a fantasy. I am back in that hotel room with Penny, and in my alternate reality I don’t have any deadlines so we have time to wake up leisurely together. I imagine she joins me in the shower and runs her hands all over me as I soap up.

My own hands don’t even come close to hers. Too big, too rough, but for now they’ll have to do. I grip my shaft gently, the way she would, and give myself a long tug. I pretend she’s on her knees in front of me, eyeing me greedily as she pumps her hands up and down my cock. I want this woman so badly, I have no restraint. In an embarrassingly short amount of time, I’ve forgotten to be gentle and slow. I’m jacking myself hard under the hot water spray, grunting and panting, ready to blow.

The image of her cupping her gorgeous tits for me to come on sends me shuddering over the edge. Relieved, I rinse the soap and everything else down the drain, dry myself roughly, and wrap the towel around my waist to go get dressed in the living room.

Penny

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