72: I'm Nobody's Baby

Julian

     I have Belinda coming over with her great-grandmother's records. I'm looking forward to hearing the music, but I'm even more looking forward to seeing Belinda herself.

     This is insane, Julian. You're at least twenty years older than her.

     I sigh at my own thoughts. I know I'm right. This whole being with Belinda is a crazy idea. The thing is though that I don't feel twenty years older than her when we're together. It's only when we're apart that the strangeness of all of it bothers me.

      I've always thought Belinda was beautiful. I noticed her soon after moving here a few years ago. (I'd thought the relaxed atmosphere of Sunlit Tides would be good for my depression.) But she was so young that I knew there was no point in going any further than saying she's beautiful and leaving it at that. Then, she'd engage me in conversation like I was no different than the rest of her peers, and I'd always happily welcome whatever it was she wanted to talk about, making her laugh whenever I could manage it. Making her laugh made me feel good.
      Then I started dreaming about her.
      Because of that, I began to avoid her for a few months until she cornered me one day and playfully accused me of doing just that. She had no idea how very right she was. I rattled off some excuse and avoided her more successfully afterwards. Then, that ex of my neighbor's showed up, and after I got out of the hospital, Maggie insisted that I go see a chiropractor or something. I chose 'or something,' putting me right in Belinda's hands quite figuratively. I couldn't stay away after that until that occurrence in my shorts. That was embarrassing, and I thought I'd avoid her again. Then I ran into her at Hurricane, and we slowly planned tonight.
       This isn't a date or anything. She's simply coming over on a Tuesday night to listen to some old records.

     Random thoughts start filling my head as I wander aimlessly around my house.

     Is my house clean?

     My daughter Maggie is at her little friend's house.

     What's that funny smell?

      After trying to figure out what it is, I give up trying to find the smell and go to get one of those air-freshener things that plugs into the wall. I hope that does the trick.

     She said she'd be here at six, and it's 5:45 right now. What am I going to do with myself until she gets here?

      I could order a pizza.

      No, I'll wait to find out what she wants first.

      I sigh.

      I don't know what kind of pizza she likes.

      I don't really know much about her at all.

      I just know that I'm incredibly attracted to the woman.

      Even though I'm possibly old enough to be her father.

      This is crazy. I should cancel.

      The doorbell rings.

       She's early! I think happily, forgetting all my earlier fretting.

     I open my front door to see her carrying a huge box. I can tell she struggles with the weight of it, so I quickly take a step or two in her direction, intending to take the thing out of her hands.

     "Whoa! Let me get that," I say as I reach for the box.

      "No, no. I got it. Just tell me where I can set it down," she replies earnestly.

      "You can 'set it down' in my arms, Belinda. Please, let me take it," I demand as I easily wrestle it out of her arms then turn around to take it into my living room.

       "Are these the records?" I ask.

       "Yes. I had one of each in that box before. The rest are in the top of my closet."

       I ponder the wealth she probably has with that collection. "Why don't you sell them? At least a few."

     She gives me a funny look and answers, "Because I think it's incredibly romantic that I keep as many in the collection as I can. Her husband ordered so many because he accidentally broke one when they were apart. He was heartbroken."

      "So, he didn't want to be without one," I conclude, probably guessing correctly.

      I'd done a little more research on Baby Love just in case since she's Belinda's great-grandmother and all. There was a short time that Baby Love was engaged, and then she had a wild life -getting mixed up in the mob and everything- before she finally settled down. She faded from the spotlight for a few years only to come back with a bang later during the big band era.

      He probably spent a small fortune on all those records, getting a hundred of each according to what Belinda told me. He was heartbroken when they were apart. I can understand that.

      I hate being alone. Ever since Maggie's mother died, I've tried to do my best raising her, but it's not been easy. And now, in a few years, she'll graduate and move out, ... and I'll really be alone.

      Belinda doesn't need a lonely old man.

      "So, where's your record player?" Belinda asks as she interrupts my thoughts.

      I smile as I point to the large contraption in the corner right behind her before I ask my own question. "Want me to order a pizza?"

      "Yeah, that'd be great," she answers me happily, and I find out what she likes on her pizza.

     "I'm scared to use it," she tells me after I hang up with the pizza place, and I walk over to the record player.

      "It's easy. Here," I say as I take the needle and place it on the record before turning it on. As I do, I stand very close to her, and the smell of her perfume attacks me. I take in a deep breath, wanting to clear my head, but I realize my folly in that action because it only gives me a larger dose of that seductive smell. Then she takes a step away from me.

     'I'm Nobody's Baby' starts playing, and the spell around us is broken.

     I clear my throat as the piece quickly moves to an instrumental interlude and ask, "Those are her brothers playing, aren't they?"

     "Yep," Belinda answers and starts singing with a silly grin on her face when Baby Love starts back up again.

     My jaw drops a little. I'm hearing the song in stereo. She matches her ancestor's intonation perfectly.

     Belinda laughs when she sees my face. "Told you I could sing," she says in a happily sassy voice.

     "I never said I didn't believe you. What I didn't know was that you sound just like her," I say with awe present in my voice.

     "Psh. Whatever. It's not like I want to make a career out of it or anything. I'd probably die of stage fright," she says and waves off my would-be compliment.

      "I must say you're wasting your talent," I say and go to have a seat on my couch while she dances around in front of me.

      She stops and looks at me. "Lots of people in this world can sing, and they're not all trying to make something of it. I don't want to."

      "Okay, okay," I say quickly and hold up my hands in a surrender gesture. "I was really only trying to pay you a compliment."

      "Strange way to do it."

      "Yeah, maybe," I admit and see her dancing again. "What...are you doing?"

      "Dancing. I have to move," she says as she dances around the box on the floor and makes her way to a more open space.

      I smile. "Then that's not the way you dance to this kind of music." I stand up, bravely walk up to her, and pull her into the standard dancing position.

     "More like this," I finish.

     Her pretty eyes light up as she smiles at me and asks, "Oh really?"

     "Yes, really."

     "I don't know how."

     "I do," I say and start teaching her the fox trot.

     After she -very quickly- gets down the basics, she asks, "So, is this it? What about all that other stuff I see in the movies?"

     "What other stuff?" I want to know exactly what she means.

     "I don't know... like dipping and stuff," she explains nervously.

     I grin and decide to dip her. She laughs.

     When I pull her back up, I notice my arm has wrapped further around her waist as I hold her closer to me. Curious, I watch her for her reaction. She closes her eyes and her breathing gets shallower. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she looks like she expects me to kiss her.
      Am I right? Surely not. Why would someone as beautiful as she is want someone like me to kiss her? I'm imagining things. Wishful thinking.
      She sighs a little and opens her eyes to look into mine before they zero in on my lips, and she leans a little closer towards me. I freeze in place and try to tell myself that I'm imagining all of this.

      The doorbell rings, and we break apart so that I can go answer it. As I do, the record stops.

     The possibly-awkward moment fades, and the two of us sit down to enjoy our pizza. I try to remember what it was we were talking about before I gave her the impromptu dance lesson.
       "So, do you plan on being a masseuse for the rest of your life?" I ask.
       "You don't think I'm good at it?" she asks a little cheekily back at me. One of her eyebrows raises with her question.
       I refuse to let what happened the last time she massaged me enter my head. All that was was a very nice dream about a woman with gifted hands and a soothing voice...who just so happens to be sitting right in front of me.
        "No, no. It's not that. You're great at it. I was only wondering is all," I say as casually as I can manage.
      "I told you," she says with a slight amount of irritation in her voice. "I don't want to become a singer."

     "That's not what I meant either. I know that because you said that. I was only curious because I was wondering if you were happy with your job or if you wanted to go for something bigger." Oh crap, I think quickly, realizing how she'll probably take what I just said.
      "Are you implying that my job is low level and that means that I'm less important because of it? That I'm settling and should try to 'better' myself by reaching for a higher-paying job that might make me miserable?" she snaps out the questions while I flounder around trying to fix what I said a second ago.
     "No! That's not what I meant! If you're happy, you're happy, and that's great! I was only curious," I say quickly before wanting to hide my head in a paper bag.
     "For your information, my family is well-off, and I benefit from that. So, I chose my career based upon what I wanted to do, and I like taking away others' stress that they probably get from jobs they hate. Even so, I'd probably still have that job because being happy is more important to me," she says in clipped tones.
     I'm desperate to fix this.
     "I'm not trying to imply that you couldn't support yourself with the job you have," I say, trying to sound repentant. I don't like the angry look she's giving me. "All I was wondering, really, is if you liked it or not."
     She takes a deep breath, and I start to relax a little.
     "Yes. I like it." Suddenly, her playful attitude returns as she says, "Especially when my customer is obviously enjoying himself."
     Now, I can't help but feel embarrassed as I think that what she said was inappropriate.

     "I fell asleep! It happens!" I say adamantly and feel defensive.
     She pauses with her pizza slice halfway to her mouth and looks shocked that I got defensive. "I'm sorry. I was only having a little fun."
      At my expense!
      She watches me stay mad and continues, "I'm sorry, Julian! I didn't think you'd be embarrassed like this. I understand stuff like that happens."
      Yes, but it's the why it happened that concerns me.
      Belinda sighs.

     Then she stands up and pushes her chair back under the table. "I guess I'll just go since all we're doing is making each other mad."
      My head snaps up to her. No!
      "Wait," I say quietly. I don't want her to leave! I've looked forward to this ever since she mentioned that we might get together like this a few weeks ago.
      I take a couple of quick breaths as I try to force myself to make a decision. I don't know what to do!

     After what feels like ages but is actually only a few seconds, I hop up out of my chair and catch Belinda before she can walk out of the dining room. "Don't go," I say quickly as I reach out and grab her arm.
     She turns to look at me, and my breath catches in my throat as I hold her arm a little bit tighter. "No, Julian. Let's just call it a night. I'll let you borrow the records for a while."
      I want to scream that I don't give a damn about the records, that it's her that I want, but of course, I can't say it.
      I need to stop being an idiot and just admit my feelings for her.
      "No, wait. I can listen to the records later. We could, um, watch a movie or something." Crap! My television is moved up into my bedroom, and it's obvious since it's not down here in the living room. God only knows what she's making of that!
      I can't understand her expression when she pulls her arm out of my grasp and says, "No, I'll just go." She starts walking across the living room for the door.
       Again, I want to scream. I run my fingers through my hair as I try to calm this feeling of panic going through me. I don't know what I really expected out of tonight, but it wasn't this. I can't let her leave yet!

     I dash across my living room and catch her as her hand touches the doorknob. "Belinda," I say as I gently turn her around, "I..." Tell her!
     Looking at her distracts me from whatever it was I was going to say. The look in her eyes is so happily expectant that I lose my ability to think or breathe.
      "Yes?" she asks, prompting me to continue.
       I can't do it. I shouldn't do it. I can't let myself pretend that she'd ever in any way return my feelings, and I don't want to bother her with them. I'm kidding myself.
       I close my eyes to try to gather my thoughts before I feel her incredibly-soft hand on my cheek.
       "What is it, Julian?" she asks sweetly, and for a few seconds, I almost lose control and attack her. When I come to my senses, I'm glad I restrained myself.
       "No."
       The word I utter sounds pained, and I know I have to get away from her before I do something stupid.
       "Why not?" she asks, and I'm terrified that she knows exactly what I'm thinking.
       I have to pull away now. I hate picturing myself as some creepy old man going gaga over a woman that's too young for him, but that's exactly how I see myself.
       I'm such an idiot.
       I open my eyes and see her face very close to mine.
       Alarm shoots through me as I say quickly, "Thank you for loaning me the records. Goodnight, Belinda."

     Julian, you fool, I think as I turn and walk away. I hear Belinda make this huffing noise before she opens the door, walks out, and slams it closed behind her.

Noah Jones

I'm still working on getting the next chapters organized. I put this little bonus together slowly as I've gone along, and I thought I'd add a bit at the end to go with it as a true bonus for the continuing storyline.

Some of the stuff in this little narration may feel like old news, but I'll bet most of you haven't guessed what Jones has been thinking all this time.

The bit at the end is text-only because I didn't want to bother with the boring conversation shots, etc.

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Jones

     My name is Noah, but everyone calls me Jones. I have no idea why, but it doesn't bother me.

    I was attracted to her from the moment I saw her. She had this little lost look to her that made me want to draw her into my arms and tell her everything was going to be all right.

     I quickly noticed I wasn't the only one she affected. Desmond, who normally would chase Ginger in his unique way, appeared just as enraptured.

     Besides, she worked with me, still does in fact even though the bar has closed temporarily. I've learned to never date anyone from work, especially if I worked for a small business. I liked and still like working there. Bryce made a great boss, but Simon was an ass. When it was just the two of us, he'd sit around talking to everyone and leave the real work to me. I let it go then because it didn't bother me since he would step in and help if things got bad (I'm guessing because he didn't want a bad report sent to Bryce).

     Bryce and his idiot-best-friend Jesse would often play twisted games with the tourists and locals alike. I stayed quiet when Bryce dragged Marie into his practical jokes since I knew he wasn't planning anything that would place her in danger.

     Besides, I couldn't help myself. I wanted to see what she'd look like in the outfit Bryce convinced her to wear. She looked... hot.

     Then, I caught on to the game Bryce and Jesse were playing. Bryce was setting her up with Jesse! Putting her in that outfit, he may as well have placed a blinking sign over her head that read 'Jesse, look here!' Jesse was dressed in his old captain's costume for some 'punishment' thing for kissing Bryce's girlfriend, and Bryce matched Marie's costume with Jesse's.

     When I saw Jesse pestering Marie like I knew he would, I did my best to let Marie know that I was there for her if she needed me.

      I hate Jesse.

      He could have almost any woman he wanted with that charm of his, and he went after Marie. He was allowed to go after Marie.

      I'm not normally prone to violence, but I wanted to punch him that afternoon because of his behavior.

     Marie beat me to it! I was so happy! She put that man right in his place: curled up and begging for forgiveness that he shouldn't receive.

     Then, damn him! He used that charm he has to weasel his way back to a point to where she would speak to him again.

     Over the years, I've learned how to read people, and I could see it. It damn near broke my heart. She was attracted to him. It was only a matter of time.

     I watched in silent agony as she agreed to let him walk her home. She didn't stand a chance.

     My only hope laid in the probability that he would dump her when he got tired of her, and that maybe I could be of some comfort to her then... even if it would've been a bad idea to date her.

     So, I kept my nose down and my opinions to myself, waiting for the inevitable.

     Her work attire at times would drive me insane, but nowhere near as crazy as watching Jesse's reaction to her. I found it increasingly difficult to keep my thoughts to myself.

      I felt furious at Bryce's continued attempts to put Marie in Jesse's path. Enough already!

      The only thing that would make me feel better at this point was that Marie would continuously shoot all their efforts down.

       I made the mistake of mumbling to myself, and my boss's girlfriend caught me. I'd have to be much more careful. I didn't need people to know what I was thinking.

     I hate Jesse. For years, I've stood and silently watched as he'd seduce women alongside my boss. I did my best to not hate Bryce because he made a good boss, but Jesse, I allowed myself to hate.

     No one pays attention to me, and I have never minded this fact.

    Jesse caught Simon feeling up Marie or something. Bryce eventually stood behind his best friend's accusations and fired him. I couldn't help but wonder if Bryce did it because it was Jesse that laid the accusations.

      Imagine my surprise when Bryce asked me to pick up Marie on the way to his house for a meeting! I was so nervous that I hardly spoke the entire drive there. Marie remained quietly aloof, unaware of my inner struggle. It was hard to be in an enclosed space with her.

      At this meeting, Bryce surprised me once again when he offered me the assistant manager position! He had noticed my much-better-than-Simon's work ethic. He even valued my opinions on what to do with the bar when I recommended we have an upper deck open-air dance floor.

        Then, Jesse came over.

        Bryce told me not to worry about taking Marie home, and I knew exactly what that meant. Bryce went from Bryce, the great boss to Bryce, the dickhead best friend of the idiot. The difference between the two is Jesse's presence.

     Marie injured herself, and Bryce trained Erin a little to work in her place at the bar before we closed for remodeling. Erin was nowhere near as good as Marie, but I didn't really expect her to be. She was too timid, and I tried to do what I could to help her just like any assistant manager should do.
     I missed Marie being around. With her around, I'd at least have someone to talk to. Bryce and Erin were always talking to each other about things that didn't concern me.
      Then one day, I heard Bryce tell Erin that Jesse and Marie had 'finally' started dating, and I wanted to die. I worried that Bryce would see something in my demeanor that would give me away. I especially worried about Erin seeing. I noticed that she was the quiet but observant type, and that made me extra cautious.
     I had never wanted to leave early so much as I did that day.

     What does it matter? What the hell would Marie see in me anyway? I don't have Jesse's charm, and I'm a bit overweight. We don't even have that much in common.
     Still... Jesse? He's not good enough for her. The man is an asshole.

     That prick Simon wants to sue Bryce for wrongful termination.

     As I watched the two of them argue, I wanted to walk over and punch Simon in the face. 'Wrongful termination' my ass! He should've been fired ages ago. I always would worry about Bernadette, but she'd tell me to mind my own damn business. I tried to, but I also felt there were times when I must step in and help. She wouldn't let me.
     When I heard about Bernadette threatening to actually take Simon's side in the lawsuit, I knew that I had to do something to help Bryce. I told him that I'd happily tell the judge what I'd seen between Simon and Bernadette. If I help Bryce, I'll finally feel like I did something to help Bernadette - whether she wanted it or not.
     If only Marie would help Bryce as well, but she insisted on not pressing charges! Sure, what Simon did to her was tame compared to everything he probably did with Bernadette, but it didn't take a genius to guess that he had the same plans with Marie.

----------------------

    The trial is set for after Christmas. In the meantime, the bar closes.
    As I watch them tear the old structure down, I happen to glance over at Bernadette where she sits watching from her lounge chair a little ways down the beach.
    I walk over to her, and she speaks without being prompted.
    "I wanted to watch that shithole of a bar crash into the ground," she says in a cold, dead voice.
    "Why?" I ask, wanting her to elaborate.
    "Bad memories." she answers in that same voice.
    "Why didn't you tell me what was going on?" I ask her, reminded of the times when I would practically beg her to confirm my suspicions about her and Simon Cottrell.
    She shrugs. "None of your business."
    "We could've helped you."
    "Nobody gives a shit about me," she snaps as she stands up to, I guess, see the bar's destruction a little better.
    "I thought we were friends."
    "Humph," she says noncommittally. Then, out of the blue, she asks, "Is Jesse dating that new slut of a waitress?"
     "Marie is not a slut," I growl. "And yes."
     She watches me closely for a few seconds before she says calculatingly, "Looks like you're not happy about it either."
     "Not especially, no. I'm concerned about her," I answer evasively and look away, but she catches on anyway, I think.
     "Jones, I think I could use your help with something."
     "Not with that," I guess. I've known she's been after Jesse for ages, and her attempts have been really pathetic. All she ever did was make Jesse convinced that she's insane.
     "You mean to tell me you don't want Marie?" she asks in a deviously-playful voice.
     "It's not going to happen anyway. We work together."
     "Not if she quits," she offers up with a smile.
     "No, Bernadette. If Marie is happy, then I'm happy for her. If, and I think this is sadly likely, he hurts her, I'll be there to help however I can."
     "What if he never hurts her and you never get your chance?" she asks with her eyebrows raised.
     "Then, like I said, I'll be happy for her."
     She rolls her eyes. "You'll change your mind. I can already see the possibility floating around behind your eyes on how you'd love to help me break them up."
      "If they break up, it won't be because of me," I state with finality and walk away without looking back.

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     I'm finally doing a bit of a time jump! (a few weeks) Scary, I know, but we can get through this. I have faith. :)

     As Jones mentioned, the bar is torn down. (and there was much rejoicing .... yay!)     /*   
      Bryce and Erin slowly broke the news to Adele that Erin was moving in. Adele had already been okay with Erin spending the night, as she told her father, but Erin moving in was a bit more of a surprise than she was ready to handle. She's doing her best because she wants her dad to be happy, and Erin is trying very hard to not be imposing. The two of them are slowly working at establishing a friendship, but they're not quite there yet. Adele is giving Erin a chance, happy that at least Erin's not trying to be her mother. All the same, she's spending more and more time with her friend Todd, making Bryce wary but not knowing what to do about it.

Oh, here's a funny:

71: Your House

Bryce

     I couldn't convince Erin to stay the night with me last night when I got back from my picnic with Adele. I didn't want to be pushy, but after the day I had yesterday, sleeping (or not) in my bed alone last night was hell.

     I feel like she could slip through my fingers at any moment! At least with an unexpected pregnancy, I'd have a solid connection to her.

      Bad, Bryce. Bad! After all that worrying over whether or not she'd stay with you just because of the baby... for you to even THINK that... bad.

      I can't help it though.

      I keep trying to tell myself that she won't leave, but yesterday proved that she's fully capable and willing to do it. Granted, she was going to leave so that I wouldn't feel 'obligated' or anything, but surely she knew what that would do to me.

      That plan of tying her to the bed sounds more and more appealing. 

       Crazy, I tell myself. Then I inwardly groan when I picture it in my mind.

      Plus, the woman has no idea what she means to me. Telling her doesn't work apparently. Hm. I have a lot of free time coming up ... What would be something I could DO to show her?

       There's a knock on the door behind me. It's Erin standing on my front porch and smiling at me through the window in my door.

      "Why are you knocking? You don't have to knock," I say with a smile as I pull her into the house then own her lips for a little while.
      She feels so good. I really hope she's not still on the 'don't touch me' thing. I'd really like to before we go to work, and I hold her close up to me so that she can feel what I want.
      "I don't know," she says when I start kissing her neck. Then she clarifies what she's talking about when she says, "I felt like I needed to knock."
     Oh yeah. The knocking on the door thing.
     I grunt and start pulling her towards the stairs. She lets me, so I reach down and carry her up them with her giggling a little. I smile at her as I take her into my bedroom and put her gently down on my bed before our lips get busy again.

     I manage to control myself and gently remove her clothes instead of ripping them off her body. A wailing groan escapes me as I work on rediscovering her beautiful body. She doesn't stop me, and because of that, I start going insane.
     Finally, I think as my lips and tongue start eating her once my head slips down between her thighs.

     "Bryce!" she squeals and starts to clamp her thighs around my ears. I reach over and pull them apart. I want her open while I mercilessly drive her crazy.
     She whimpers when I go lower and start lapping up the delicious fluids coming out of her. Then I delve inside and hold her hips still while I continue to attack her. She tries to move with me, but I hold her tightly and prevent it from happening. A loud, frustrated noise shoots out of her from deep inside her chest.
     No, baby. All me, I think as I hold her steady when she keeps groaning and whining.
     She screams my name again, and I pick up my speed and pressure before she quickly comes into my face. I ride the whole thing with my tongue inside her, stroking her while she bathes my chin in Essence of Erin.
      Then I flip her over, lift her hips to me, and drive myself into her wet pussy. I want it like this to make up for the discomfort I gave her last time while -almost- in the same position. I'd finger her ass, but I'm not touching that until she gives me permission. I don't ask now because I don't want to risk it.

    "Oh, Erin," I moan before pulling out and driving myself into her once more. I'm going to play with her until she's ready to come again. She's so deliciously tight after she comes like that, like her body is looking for me, and when it finds me, it doesn't want to let go. She whines a little when I do it again. I ask her if she's okay, and she mumbles that she is. I don't want her letting me hurt her like that again. That still pisses me off to some extent.
     I fuck her slowly for a little while until I can tell she's ready. Groaning, I pick up my tempo until I hold her hips tightly while she comes.

     I turn her over once more before burying myself between her thighs again. She barely responds to me kissing her, but I don't mind.
     "I missed you," I whisper into her lips, and she starts to wake up a little more to kiss me back. Her fingers thread through my hair as she continues to kiss me, and I soak up the love I feel coming from her because I'm starving for it.
     I hadn't realized I'd started moving until a few minutes of kissing her pass by. I don't think too much about it since I'm more interested in kissing her. Sure, this feels damn good, but I really want to focus on her mouth and neck. It's all so wonderful.
     "I love you," I whisper into her mouth before I go back to kissing her. Right this moment, I feel like Erin understands just how much I do love her even if she'll probably forget later. I love this moment.
     As always, that physical need for her takes over, and I lose myself to our pleasure. As her orgasm milks me, I finally let go and come inside her.

     We still have a few hours until the bar opens, so I hold her naked body close while running my fingers through her hair.
      "I love you, Bryce," she breathes.
      I stay silent, the pain from her crazy idea to leave me yesterday still hurting me.
      Like she's reading my mind, she says, "I never could've left. I only said that in a panic. You wouldn't have had to chase after me, but I still love that you would have."
      I hate how I still remain wary even though what she said helps quite a bit.
      Give her the truth. "I... You..." I squeeze her tighter. "My biggest fear. You wanted to." Very articulate, Bryce, I think sarcastically.
      "I was afraid," she says quietly, not complaining about tightly I hold onto her.
      "Of what?" I ask, the words popping out of my mouth. "That I'd break up with you or something like that?"
     "Yes. That you'd say something like 'I don't have time for this shit' or something."
     "No."
     "I know that now. I really knew that then too, but I panicked and forgot it in my fear. I'm sorry."
     Do it. Ask her to move in with you.
      No. Not because of this.
      "Okay. Don't blame me for becoming annoyingly clingy though."
      She takes a deep breath. "Be as clingy as you want."
      I have to say it. "But what about that talk about slowing down and stuff?"
      "Don't worry about it," she says.
      Now. "Then move in with me, Erin."

Erin

      "Then move in with me, Erin," he says in a very serious voice before he rolls over on top of me.
       I stay quiet in my shock.
       He talks since I don't. "Don't give me that 'it's only been a month' crap either. I love you, and I hate, I loathe it when you're not here."
       I swallow. "I can be here." Even though I feel like I'm a deer caught in the headlights, I know I would eventually move in with him anyway. This is a little soon, but he has a point in what he said when he implied that we're not the average couple. Still, this is a bit crazy. I decide to move in but keep my house.
       "You will?!" he asks in a happy voice while a thrilled smile covers his face. He watches me closely, but not even my apprehensive look takes away his smile.
       "I mean I can stay here as much as you want, but-"
       He kisses me to stop me from finishing my sentence. "As much as I want is all the time."
       "But I'm keeping my house."

       "Why? Because you think I'm going to break up with you? Are you planning on breaking up with me someday? What, you don't see us working out? You don't need to keep it," he lightly argues while kissing my neck.
       "Bryce," I say in an annoyed voice, "no matter what you say it has only been a month. There's still stuff we don't know about each other. I think it's wise for me to keep my house as a backup plan."
       "Makes no sense to me," he says, and he reminds me of a child stomping his foot because he's not completely getting his way. "We don't need a backup plan."
       "What about what this will do to Adele?" I ask.
       "It was going to happen eventually, and she likes you," he says, dropping another hint about the future he wants, but this time it doesn't make me panic.
      "It's different when you live with someone, Bryce."
      "You think I don't know that?!" he snaps - but not in a cruel way.
      I reach up and work on wiping the scowl off his face as I say, "For a while, I want to keep my house. Who knows what's going to happen? I'll still, for all intents and purposes, be living here all the time."

       His face finally relaxes, and his whole body relaxes on top of me. He wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my chest. I feel him smile against my skin.
       I must admit that I'm a little worried about this sudden, rash decision, but I also feel happy about it.
      "I could hire that same interior decorator to fix this house up like you like it if you want," he suddenly says while lifting his head up to look at me. "So it would feel more like your home too."
       I smile. "That's a sweet idea, Bryce. If it were just you and me, I'd love that, but we don't need to change too many things at once for Adele's sake. Don't you think?"
       "What if we ask her input?" he adds.
       "I don't know. Give me a while to think about it. I'm still reeling from saying I'll move in." But this is a way I can make you understand that I'm not going to leave you. I hate myself for what I did yesterday.
       "Tonight?" he asks like a kid at Christmas, and I can't help but laugh a little. "You stay the night anyway, and we'll break it slowly to Adele if that would make you feel better."
       "It would."
       "No more staying at this place you call 'your house,' " he says with his warm brown eyes watching me closely.
     "We need to get ready to open the bar,"I say.
     He groans and buries his face in my chest.

   
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I'm not sure I'm going to be able to get an update out next week. I'm pushing ahead, and I want to have a few chapters written all at once so that I can stay consistent with what's going on. Who knows? I might get it out. I just wanted to add a little note here to say ahead of time that the story isn't disappearing. :)

70: Magic Words

Marie

     Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow ow ow ow!
     Every step I take into the house hurts. My knee hurts too.
     I hobble up the stairs and escape into the bathroom.
     I'm a failure. I failed at sex.
     It hurt too much!
     I feel like Jesse carved an entirely new hole into me. Reason tells me that he didn't, but I feel like he did.
     Why did it have to hurt so much?!
     I look down at myself and see blood running down my leg. I start crying and run the bathtub. I don't think I can stand up for long in the shower. I don't think a bath is going to feel good either, but at least I'll be able to sit down.
     I don't know what I'll do after this.
     I start crying again, loudly.

Jesse

    I sit dumbly in the hot tub, lamely staring at the water. I feel that my face is all screwed up in worry, and my breathing feels forced.
    I seriously hurt her, I think, filled with self-loathing.
    The bathroom light upstairs turns on.
     I ruined her. I'm a failure. She was counting on me to know what I was doing, and I failed her.
     She kept trying to tell me it hurt, but I thought she was only talking about the typical pain that was supposed to go away.
     'You idiot. Think about it. It might take her a long while to adjust, and again, you go charging in like some bull. You should've stopped when she wanted to stop. Then the next time she'd be better and the time after that maybe, but noooo, you had to go and want everything right now.'
    I bury my face in my hands and start quietly crying with the realization that I caused my own worst fears to become a reality.
    Then I hear the faint sound of running water and Marie crying.
    'Get a hold of yourself and be a man, asshole. You literally fucked up. Go find a way to fix it!'
     I dry my face and listen to my cruel inner voice.
     After I walk into the house, I pick up Marie's swimsuit top where I threw it earlier. Then, I head upstairs to get the bottoms where I threw them. I don't think she'll need them right away, but it's the first thing I think to do.
    'Dumbass. She's going to want to cover up more than what that bikini will do for her.'
    I look at the little suit in my hands and agree with myself, so I turn around to get my housecoat out of the closet to loan to her if she wants.
    'She's still crying, dipshit.'

    'You'd better knock.'
    I do.
    "Marie?" I ask after I hear the bathtub's faucet turn off.
    She makes a noise like something hurt her, and I don't wait for her to invite me in.
    'Yeah, you're good at barging in, aren't you?'
     "Marie?" I ask again and see her tense up as she gets in the tub. Oh. She looks behind her at me warily.
     Oh crap. I forgot I was still nude. I quickly reach over and grab a towel to wrap around my waist. Once that's done, I sigh and take the folded robe and her swimsuit and place them on the bathroom counter.
     I can't stop myself from going over and sitting next to the tub. Her eyes watch me silently.
     At least she's stopped crying.
     "I'm sorry," I say lamely. "I didn't understand."
     Her face crumples. "I know!" she whines. "I should've told you more, but you said it would stop hurting, and it didn't, and I didn't want to act stupid like I didn't believe you, but I never stopped hurting, and..." She dissolves into tears.

    I feel like my heart is being ripped out of my chest with an ice pick. "Shh! It's not your fault!" It's mine. "Please don't cry." I can't keep from reaching out and moving her hands so that I can wipe her tears myself. Then I decide to get a washcloth and completely wipe her face after wetting the washcloth in the tub. Next, I reach for the hand towel and dry her face. She lets me do it all with her eyes closed the whole time.
    I'm reminded of just this morning when I bathed her in her shower, and I get mildly turned on again as I think about it.
    Stop it!
    If there could be a good side to my pity-party down in the hot tub earlier, it's that I'm no longer hornier than a rabbit. I feel like shit actually.
     'Nothing compared to how Marie feels, you know.'
     I sigh helplessly. I can't change the past, but I'll be damned if she remembers her first time in a negative light. There's got to still be a way I can fix this.

Marie

    The hot water in the bathtub finally starts feeling good instead of like it's burning me 'down there.' I still feel extremely raw, but everything has stopped stinging.
    Jesse starts lovingly stroking my face with his hands. "I'm sorry," he whispers.
    "Me too."
    "No. It's not your fault. I was too stupid and horny to realize it would take us longer. I should've stopped," he says quietly, still petting my face and hair.
     I open my eyes and look up at him. "But I didn't want you to have to stop, but it just wouldn't stop hurting." I stop talking because my voice cracks. I don't need to break down again.
    "That's enough for now, or we'll wind up going in circles," he says with gentle sternness. "Is the bath helping?"
     "Yes."
     "That's good," he says. "I brought you my houserobe since I didn't guess you'd want to wear your bikini."
    I think of something else I'm going to need. "I... um... might... need feminine products." I bite my lip and look at him.
    "Well, I guess I can run out and get some." A small smile plays around his lips as he says, "I don't keep that sort of thing here."
    "Where are you going to buy that stuff at this time of night?"
    "White Sands keeps a shop open twenty four hours a day," he says, talking about the island's big resort. "They probably sell those things."
    I tell him what I need, and he offers to help me out of the tub before he goes. I tell him I'm staying in the tub until he gets back.
    "Then I'll hurry back."
    After he gets back and hands me the simple underwear he bought me so that I could use a pad just in case (no way am I using a tampon!), I put on his robe, and the two of us curl up together in his bed.

    I'm happy I'm finally sleeping-sleeping with him again. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore since we've officially thrown 'simple' out the window today.
    "I'm calling in sick tomorrow. They'll be fine without me," Jesse says as his warm arms hold me.
     "You don't have to do that," I say sleepily.
     "Yes I do."
      He's so sweet. I should tell him. No, now isn't the right time to tell him I love him. He'll think it's because of what he said.

    I'm dreaming.
    Jesse plays with a small boy on his back. They're both laughing like crazy, and Jesse pulls the boy off his back and places him on the floor to tickle him.
    "Mommy!" the boy says to me. Jesse looks up and smiles at me too as the little boy gets up and runs over to me to hug me around my legs.
    Smiling, I extract the child from my legs and kneel down to look at him. He has an exact copy of Jesse's eyes. I give him a more proper hug before he suddenly announces he wants to play outside.
    The next thing I know, Jesse's kissing me. It's a dream; things don't have to go along with perfect logic.

    "I love you, Jesse," I tell him simply, and he smiles and kisses me again.
    This one's an even better kiss. I feel like Jesse's all around me, and it's wonderful. I move to try to get closer to him, and I feel a pinch of pain. I take in a fast breath of air because the pain took me by surprise.
    "Are you okay?" Jesse asks.
    "Yeah. I guess I have to be more careful," I say sleepily. Jesse is so warm as we lie here in his bed with his arms around me, and I pull him back to me so that I can have more of his lips.
    Wasn't I standing a minute ago? Oh well, it's a dream.
    Jesse moans in a very real way as his arms hold me tightly to him.
    I'm not dreaming anymore.

Jesse

    I wake up in the morning to find Marie sleeping peacefully next to me. She looks so beautiful as she smiles while she sleeps. I wish my cameraphone wasn't broken.
    "I love you, Jesse," she says in her sleep.
    My whole world freezes in space and time. Did I really just hear that?
    Yes I did.
    I scoop her into my arms and kiss her awake.

    "I love you, Jesse. I love you, Jesse. I love you, Jesse..." her words echo in my mind, committing themselves to a wonderful memory. I hold her tighter, and she hisses in a pained breath. Oops.
     I ask her if she's okay, and she says she thinks she has to be more careful. I start to tell her that I think it was because I pulled her to me when she pulls me to her. Oh, baby, I think with a moan as I own her mouth. Need for her nags at me, and I slowly start losing control.
     But she's still hurting. If only I could help her feel better somehow...
     I get an idea. I'm not sure it'll work, but I hope she's willing to give it a try.
     "Marie, I want to do something to you. I think it'll help," I say gently.
     "What?" she asks with innocent curiosity.

     I pause. "If I tell you what I'm going to do, you might not let me. Once I've started doing it and you decide you don't like it, then you can tell me to stop, but please let's try my idea."
      "I might not let you?" she asks worriedly.
      "You might not; I don't know," I say as I purposefully remove the robe she wears and then her underwear. There's a little blood on the pad she wore.
      "Jesse! I'm going to ruin your sheets!"
      "Then I'll buy new sheets," I say with a shrug as I get up and open a drawer to get something out of it.
      She looks at the tube of lubricant with wide eyes and asks, "What is that?"
      Can you blame her for not trusting you, asshole? I think painfully.
      I tell her what it is. "All I'm going to use is my fingers to sort of use it like massage oil or lotion for cracked skin or something."
      "Inside me?" she squeaks.
       "Once I've started doing it and if it hurts, then you can tell me to stop, but please trust me a minute and let me try to make it better," I repeat what I said earlier.
      "I don't know, Jesse," she whines, and it breaks my heart. "You don't need to try to fix this."

    I lean down to gently kiss her. She's nervous, and I loathe that. "Please let me try," I whisper. She doesn't say anything, and I put a bit of lube on my fingertips and move them down to gently massage the outer area of her vagina.
    "Jesse," she cries.
    "Does this hurt?" I ask, dying inside.
    "No, but I feel so embarrassed," she says while covering her eyes with her hands
    I lean down and lovingly kiss her cheeks. "Don't be," I whisper. "I love you. Don't be embarrassed with me, ma Marie And if it hurts at all, I'll stop immediately." I kiss her as I put a bit more of the stuff on my fingertips.
     She breathes in quickly through her nose, but I refuse to release her mouth as I gently use my index finger to place the lube a fingertip's depth inside of her before carefully circling it around.
     "Okay?" I ask after I release her mouth.
     She breathes shakily and nods her head, and I do it again, this time a little deeper. I watch her face very carefully as my fingertip brushes her frontal wall. For the tiniest of seconds, her expression changes. I reapply the lube to my fingers and this time place my index and middle fingers in her to massage her. She takes in a big breath of air as I pass by again, and I feel her body has added to the lubricant I'm using. I focus on her frontal wall now with only small passes everywhere else, and her eyes close.
    Good.
    "Does it hurt?" I ask because I have to.
    She takes a shaky breath in and answers in a whisper, "No."
    My lips twitch up to a quick smile before I ask, "Does it feel good?"
    "Yes," she whispers to me, and I pull out to get a little more on my fingertips even if it's probably unnecessary now. "More," she whispers, and her eyes open to look up at me before she closes them again and tilts her head up.

    God, she's beautiful, I think and force myself to take a deep breath to keep from attacking her.
     I apply the smallest increase in pressure against her, and she closes her eyes. I am so very happy that I'm not hurting her.
     "I'm not hurting you?" I ask just to be sure.
     "No," she moans, and I pull my fingers out to get a little more lube on them. I'm going deeper.
     "Still okay?" I ask.
     "Yes, but I liked it better before," she says and tries moving her hips to get my fingers where she wants them.
     "No, don't do that. Trust me and please relax," I tell her, getting more into it by the second.
     "Oh," she lets out in a high-pitched voice when I find her g-spot. A tremor goes through her when I slowly start moving my fingers, pressing down with varying intensities. She gasps my name, and for a second, I worry I hurt her. Looking at her, I can tell that wasn't the case. "Faster," the little minx breathes.
     "I'll go whatever speed I want, and I want to make sure I don't hurt you," I counter, and she whines my name. She starts moving her hips to my hand, and although I know she won't hurt herself, I don't want to risk it. "Be still," I order.
     "No," she cries. "I can't."
     "You can, and you will even if I have to hold you down. Don't make it have to come to that. Behave, and I won't have to stop."
    "No, don't stop!"
    "Then be still," I tell her and love how she does as I say. That doesn't stop her from wordlessly telling me how she's going insane, but I don't mind.
     Her breathing gets heavier, and I speed up just a little before her hips thrust into my hand while I push back. She cries out, and I worry. However, I keep going while her mouth opens in a silent scream, and I pray it's from extreme pleasure and not pain. Then she moans, and her forehead doesn't wrinkle at all. Good.
     She goes limp, and I slowly pull my fingers out of her while she makes a little noise. She's at that buzzed state where I could do almost anything I wanted, but all I want to do is kiss her. So I do.
    I wrap my arms around her and go a little crazy as I kiss her sometimes-responsive mouth. At the very least, she opens it for me when I use my jaw against hers. I have Marie. She's mine. Finally, someone loves me back! I hold her tighter to me. "I love you," I breathe into her mouth for a second before kissing her more.
    She acts like she's trying to 'come to' as her hand periodically comes up to touch my face before falling limp again. A short whine slips out of her, and I decide to continue kissing her and not worry for now what she's trying to do.

     "Jesse..." she whispers while I let her breathe and kiss her on her face and neck. "Jesse..."
     "Mm?" I ask wordlessly but not pushing her to hurry up and tell me whatever it is she wants to say.
     She takes a deep breath, lets it out, takes another one, and says, "I love you."
     Some strange noise escapes me before I go absolutely crazy. It's probably a good thing I'm still half-dressed. I quite literally can't get enough as I wish to devour her from the inside out. Again, I feel like a living cliche, but I don't care! She consciously told me! A small sob slips out because I have no control over myself anymore. Marie loves me, she said it again, this time awake. Right now, I don't care if I should start bawling.
     Her face smiles a little, and that means I have to kiss her again. I've spent years looking for this very thing. I finally found it! I want to capture the air she breathed out as she told me she loves me. I realize that's impossible, but I still want to. Oh well, I have her, and that's what really matters. I squeeze her tightly.
      A little squeak comes out of her because I hugged her too hard. I laugh a small laugh and relax my incredibly-crazy grip of her.

      I can feel my lips quirk as I try to keep a straight face to say something I've always wanted to say: "I love you more."
      She laughs, I guess at my expression, and says, "You did not just say that."
     "You bet your sweet ass I did," I respond and go right back to kissing her like a madman.