80: Confession

Belinda

     We haven't spoken since our fight at Adele's birthday party almost a week ago.

     I think I... really like Julian. Something happened over the past few weeks ever since I told him about my collection of records. I don't know. He went from being a nice older guy to someone I could actually see myself with.

     That night when I went to his house and we were dancing was when I really realized I liked him. It felt so right, and I thought he surely was about to kiss me before the pizza guy showed up. Since he didn't kiss me after all, I'd wondered at the time if I'd imagined the whole thing. Then, that moment before I left, something was there for him as well. For once, I didn't want to make the first move, not with him. I didn't think he'd go for that, and I didn't want to turn him off. He looked like was going to kiss me then too, but did he? No. I wanted him to, but then I started wondering, again, if it was all in my imagination. Feeling stupid, I stormed out of the house, not to see him until the party.

     At the party, I was a little surprised to see him, but then again, he has been hanging around our little group more often. Ever since that night when he punched Sean before Sean beat him up, Erin and Bryce have really welcomed him into our little circle. Sometimes, I'd secretly flatter myself that he was around us to see me since he'd seek me out to talk to especially, but now I wonder if that was wishful thinking.

      He'd been talking to Lynne when I showed up and laughing about something or other, so I walked over to see what was so funny. Then he made up some lame excuse (I don't remember right now) and walked away!

     When the party had started winding down, I'd gone and leaned against the outside wall of Bryce's house, and Julian approached me to talk, finally.

     "Why are you over here sulking?" he asked.

     "I'm not sulking," I childishly denied.

     "Then please explain that look on your face."

     "What look?"

     "You're pouting about something."

     "I'm not allowed to pout if I want to?" I argued back and started walking towards the pool.

     "I'm only trying to help," he told me with a scowl on his face.

     I wanted to scream. Instead, I made my way to the beach. He followed me.

     "You left your box of records at my house the other day," he said from behind me.

     "I know. I forgot them since I left angrily because -" I can't say it.

     "Because?" he prompted me to finish.

      Because I felt like a fool thinking you were about to kiss me when you weren't. I didn't speak my thoughts.

     "Because I was angry that I thought the wrong thing," I answered vaguely.

     "What wrong thing?"

     "Forget it," I said and waved him off.

     "Because things got a little awkward?" he asked.

     Huh? 
     "It didn't feel awkward to me," I replied. "Until nothing happened," I finished bravely, baiting him.

     "You wanted something to happen?" he asked, looking worried.

     "How was it awkward to you?" I asked instead of answering his question.

      He took a deep breath, and I looked up into his perpetually sad blue eyes as he said, "I'm too old for you, Belinda. I almost kissed you, and I shouldn't have done that."

      I wasn't imagining it! He admitted it! Wait... "Too old for me?"

      "How old are you exactly, if you don't mind me asking?"

      "Twenty-five," I answered. He did want to kiss me. "But I don't see how that matters."

      "I'm fourty-three," he told me. "It matters. I've buried my wife and raised my daughter alone. You're young and don't deserve someone with my kind of baggage."

        What!

      "With your... I don't... 'Deserve'?!" I got madder by the second. There stood a man that I'd started to become attracted to, and he was pushing me away even though he admitted he felt something for me, at least something enough to where he wanted to kiss me. "I don't believe this!" I yelled. Julian looked surprised.

      "I'm sorry I brought it up," he said quickly. "You're right. This is a crazy idea to begin with."

      I wanted to slap him. "No! I don't believe how you're using that excuse," I corrected him.

      "It's a valid reason!" he cried out.

      "No, it isn't! Cut the crap. Either you like me like that or you don't," I demanded bravely, my heart racing. I'd had enough beating around the bush. He said so himself: he almost kissed me. I knew, I knew he couldn't deny it to my face that he liked me, and he needed to admit it.

      "I don't," he answered, and my heart stopped beating. "I'm sorry our friendship has had to come to this. I'm sorry I gave you mixed signals that made you think I wanted to be more than friends." He offered up a sad smile and continued while I stood there in silent shock, "You're too good for me, Belinda. I'd just drag you down anyway."

      My mouth opened, and no sound came out. What was I supposed to say to that? Mixed signals? What the hell!
      I quietly stormed off, nearly running into Bryce as I made my way to my car.

     Now, I have the heartache of knowing that I like him and him not feeling the same. He thinks he's too old for me. When I look at Julian, I don't see his age. I see his experience instead. I have a silly notion of wanting to run up and cling to that like it's what I need most in the whole world. I see that he's had a heartbreaking past, and I love making him smile so much it's like my whole purpose in life. Even before I realized I was doing it, I liked being goofy around him and putting a smile on his often-frowning face. I'd thought that's why he gravitated to me often, because I could do that. Then, I thought that he was attracted to me as well. Boy, was I wrong. I'm just the goofy friend.

     I wring my hands nervously because my next scheduled customer is him. He'd scheduled this a month or so ago. I kept thinking he'd cancel it because of what happened the last time, but he never did.

     How can I do this?! Oh, not to mention this goes against the code of ethics, but that's the least of my concerns.

     Maybe he won't show up.

     He walks over to my table with a worried expression on his face. I have no idea what my expression is. Wordlessly, I gesture to the table, and he lies down upon it.

     From our past discussions, I learned that Julian had at one time been a boxer and then a bodybuilder before he met his wife. He'd told me people thought he'd made up his last name when really it was kind of funny that he did what he did with the surname he had. Although I'm sure it's diminished since then, he still hasn't lost his muscular physique.

      I haven't spoken to the man in almost a week, and now I have to give him a massage?
      I warm up my hands and get started on his back. Well, I try to.

      I can't do it! I think in a sad way and quickly run off with him calling my name in question. I can't let him see me cry, and the damn tears are on their way.

     How could I have been so stupid as to believe he had feelings for me? I think again like I have so many times this week.

      If Lynne were here and not at home packing for her upcoming trip, she would've never let Julian keep his appointment.

      "Belinda!" I hear spoken loudly behind me before I duck into one of the shelters.

      Don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry don't cry!!! I think while breathing too fast to keep the crying away. I hear my name again, this time closer.

       "No," I whine when Julian walks in. My own stupidity nags at me mercilessly.

       He doesn't listen to me and instead reaches for me. "Come here," he says and pulls me to him before wrapping his arms around me. "I'm sorry," he says very quietly down to me.

       That's not what I want to hear, and, still feeling pathetic, I start bawling... just like the baby he takes me for.

       He starts petting my hair while he says, "I didn't cancel the appointment because I wanted to see you. The Flamingo's being rebuilt. I didn't find you at Hurricane. I don't know where you live. So, I thought I'd keep this appointment." I feel him rest his head on top of mine before he whispers, "I've missed you."

       Jerk! How dare you make it sound like you missed me in that way?!

       Still angry, I snap, "It's not even been a week."

       I feel him let out a quiet sigh before he says, "It's been a very long week."

       "I haven't seen Erin or Ginger in that long, and I haven't started missing them really, so how can you say that about me since we're only friends?" I snarl, and he lets out a huff of air like someone punched him. My heart is being ripped and shredded with a tiger's claws because of the way he implied that he 'missed' me. I start trying to wiggle free.

      "I have a confession to make," he mumbles and easily holds me tighter.

      "Let me go," I demand, determined to ignore his 'confession.'

      "I lied," he says plainly, and I stop struggling for a minute. "I thought I had to."

      "You thought you had to lie?" I want him to clarify everything before I go jumping to conclusions that I may have jumped to already.

       "Yes. To protect you." His voice sounds strained.

       "You lied to me?"

       "Yes," he answers patiently.

       "About what?" I have to ask. Admit it! Tell me I'm not crazy!

       He stiffens up a little before he answers, "About how I feel about you."

       "And I need protecting from that?" I ask obstinately.

       "Yes!" he answers emphatically and holds the sides of my face. He backs up a little so he can look at me. "You have your whole life ahead of you! How selfish can I be to take that from you? You don't need somebody like me."

       'Take'? My face screws up as I openly say, "Well, what if you're exactly what I want?" So what if I'm about to embarrass myself again. I've already dropped to that low point anyway.

       "I don't believe you."
      I glare at him, and my ears start feeling hot. If I were to look in a mirror right now, I wouldn't be surprised to see steam shooting out my ears. How dare he not believe me!
      Before I can lay into him, he continues, "You don't know what you want. You only think you know what you want. I do need to apologize for lying to you, though."

       "So. You admit you have feelings for me but then don't want me to feel the same. You think that you're selfish if we start something." I start shaking from pent up rage, and I debate testing to see just how good a fighter he used to be because I want to beat the crap out of him.

       "Yes," he gets in quickly.

       "You know what, Julian?" I snap, ready to let him have it, ready to throw at him all my frustrated embarrassment felt over the last few weeks. "You're not 'taking' anything from me unless you refuse to be with me on some stupid idea that you'll 'drag me down' because the only thing you could be 'taking' from me would be the possibility of very happy life."

       He kisses me.

       More like, he slams into me with a passionate brute force that blots out everything else. It's just Julian, Julian everywhere like he's ravenous for me. All I can do is try to respond as I cling to him.

      He leaves my mouth for a second to quickly bend down, reach under my skirt, pull down my panties, and lift me onto the table in the room we're in, pulling my panties the rest of the way off once my feet have left the floor. Then he lifts my skirt back, pulls me towards him, removes his towel and pushes himself inside me, making me cry out in surprise. He's fast.

       He starts repeatedly thrusting into me hard and slow. A groan comes out of him while his hands reach down and hold my ass and hips to him. He's incredible! I wrap my legs around his hips, trying to help him go deeper. He does.

     Suddenly, he jerks my dress off and throws it to the floor. I have to reach behind me to keep my head from slamming into the wall while his demanding thrusts push me to the middle of the table. He follows me onto it, pulling my legs up onto his shoulders.

     "I need your mouth," he growls as he holds the back of my head and bends down to own my mouth with his tongue. His thrusts don't stop as he begins to turn us so that I'm lying on my back on the table. I can't move much at all because of the way he has me folded in half, but it doesn't matter.

      I've never had it this good, and I want to cry out from the insanity. I have to turn my head and bite my finger to find some outlet for the waves of white-hot pleasure. If I should be as loud as I want, someone would hear us, and I could get in serious trouble.

      Not knowing what else to do but ride the crazy bliss he gives me, I desperately hold onto his shoulders and neck with my free hand. I start frantically clawing at his back as everything goes up a notch, and my hand covers my mouth to muffle my uncontrollable scream when he reaches my g-spot.

      I'm caught in a swirling vortex of pleasure as my body comes into him. I can't move, but I still tense and push harder into him as much as I'm able. He groans again and pounds into me as he comes again and again, pushing me against the table.
      The two of us lie here panting to catch our breath, and a thin sheen of sweat covers us. Only now do I begin to think about what just happened. Julian just fucked me hard... and on someone else's table. Wow.

      "I could get in... so much trouble," I pant, and he chuckles a little as he gently pulls my legs off his shoulders.

       "At least you didn't have any other appointments scheduled," he points out in a low, quiet mumble. A delayed aftershock surprises me, and he moans and presses into me as much as he can.

       I start shaking as the unexpected waves hit me, and Julian acts like he knows exactly what to do about them, which is another surprise... like he knew this would happen.

      "Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh," I tremble out.

      "Shh. Try to stay quiet," he croons to me.

      "What," I pant, "is happening to me?"

      He rocks his hipbone against my clitoris, and I my body moves of its own will. He shrugs. "Aftershocks."

     "Huh?" I nearly squeak before another one hits me. I pant in an interlude, knowing another one is coming if Julian moves a... it happens... certain way.

     "This could go on for hours sometimes," he explains with a devilish grin that I've never seen before on his face.

      I whimper. I'm losing my mind!

       So, so many different guys I've dated and slept with, and nothing has ever compared to this. I'd tried so many different things, trying to find perfection, and I found it today. It's not what you do so much as who you do it with, I realize.

       "I don't have hours," I gasp. I am still at work after all.

       "Hm. True," he says before leaning down and lovingly kissing me. "Why don't you, um, come by my place tonight? Maybe we can be a little more serious then and talk about this."

      "This right now?" I ask and try to keep my eyes from crossing.

      He smiles. "No, I mean us." He kisses me once before continuing, "If you think we can do this, then I'm not going to try to stop it anymore. Well, obviously."

      How is he in so much control of himself right now?!

      "Okay?" he asks and stops his hips.

      "Okay," I whisper. He pulls out, and I miss him already. "Tonight then," I say in a calmer voice. Then, a thought occurs to me. His daughter. "What about Maggie?"

     Julian looks a little sad. "I have no idea how she's going to react to me dating again."

      I nod in an understanding way. "We'll play it by ear or something."

      He puts his towel back around him, and I find my dress and panties and put them back on.

      He draws me into his arms again and taps my nose playfully with his finger as he says, "I'd planned on showing up today to try to gauge if anything had changed. Then you pointed to the table, so I laid down on it, thinking you'd changed your mind. But when you suddenly left like you were hurting, I knew I had to do something. Although, at the time, I thought I'd try to make having us not a reality easier for you. Thank you for changing my mind." He kisses me.

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

I really do apologize for the purple prose I sometimes use. I simply can't help myself. <3
Also, to those of you that notice these things, I forgot about Julian's tattoos until I'd finished shooting, but I didn't wanna go back and reshoot the whole thing. Not to mention I'm not 100% sure they'd work since I only have NL and FL installed on the laptop. (Installing everything was a massive disaster.)
Bonus points to anyone who noticed the other minor mistake. ;)

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.

64: Baby Love

Belinda

       I'm sitting here at Hurricane, the same place where I ran into that ex of Erin's, and I'm staring at the picture of my great-grandmother when I hear a familiar voice behind me.
       "I didn't expect to see you here."
       It's Julian, and he sounds happily surprised.
       I turn and smile at him, "True. This isn't my usual Friday night spot, but I wanted something a little different today."
       Tonight is karaoke night at Hurricane, and so far, the participants are terrible. That's part of what makes karaoke fun though.
        Julian laughs a little and says, "This is certainly different from Bryce's bar with this junk they're trying pull off as 'music.' " He takes the bar stool next to me.
       I laugh as well and ask, "Then why do we choose to come on nights like these when we know what's going to happen?"
        "I suppose that's one of the great mysteries of the universe," he answers me with a smile.

        I'm happy that Julian is talking to me. I'd worried that he'd avoid me like the plague after what had happened the last time I gave him a massage. I tactfully decide to leave that out of our conversation - which has lulled into an awkward pause.
        I pull out my old standby. "Do you know who that woman in the picture is?"
        "Yes. That's Gloria Love."
        I smile as I look over at him. Not many people get that right, maybe one out of twenty, but I figure it has to do with the clientele of the joint. "Correct. She's also my great-grandmother."
        "No way," he says in a state of awe. I love it when I get this reaction. "She was inducted into the hall of fame recently wasn't she?"
       Wow, he really knows! My little smile turns into a big grin. "Yes. It's kinda funny because for the longest time, the world forgot about her, Then there was this sudden surge of interest in her again for no reason people can pin down. It just sorta... happened. Then people realized she'd been overlooked in history, and they put her in. My mom went in her honor," I tell him and hope I don't sound like I'm bragging. It occurs to me that he may already know everything I just told him. Oh well.
      "I guess you never realize who people are and where they come from sometimes," he mentions quietly. Louder, he says, "I have a few of her old records and then a few CDs. I'd love to get my hands on some of her old phonographs."
      I raise an eyebrow and ask, "Really?"
      "Yes..." he lets his answer trail out in a questioning way.
      "I have some. My great-grandfather ordered a hundred of all of them at one time, and of course, he never needed all of them."
      He smiles, puts his hands up in a surrendering gesture, and says, "I'm not asking for you to sell them to me. I'd feel guilty especially since you're her descendant. I would like to have a listen though."
      "My player needs a new needle," I say.
      "Then why not bring them over to my place and I'll play them on my old Victrola," he offers.
      "That would be... nifty!" I crack up laughing at the word I chose.

 

Pamela

     Simon finally comes home, and he greets me in my favorite way. I hate him working those several-day-long shifts because I miss him like mad. This time has been especially difficult because I have news that I hope will make him happy. I didn't want to tell him over the phone.
      "Hey, baby," he says in his beautifully deep voice.
      "Hey, Uncle Simon!" we hear coming from the hallway before Adele bounds into the room.
      Simon lets go of me so that he can hug Adele before kissing her on the cheek.
      "Jer-jer ate dirt today!" she announces and then laughs at Simon's expression.
      I put my forehead in my hand and say, "That child's hands are fast."

      Jeremy comes toddling in, and Simon gets down on one knee to hug his son. He's so great with kids. When I first met him, he acted so tough and macho. Then when I saw him playing with Adele before one of our first dates, I was happily surprised at the more warmhearted, tender side he showed. It was so sexy. ...Still is.
     Lost in my little reverie, I come back to the here and now to see that Simon has pulled out the bottle I stuck in the fridge for later and handed it to Jeremy. He's is too old for bottles, but we humor him.
     And we're going to need those bottles again, I think happily.
     Adele picks up Jeremy and carries him to the television so that they can watch their favorite show. I walk over to Simon and grab his hand to drag him back into the bedroom. Well, there's actually no dragging involved because he happily follows behind me, understanding my wordless suggestion with a smile.

      When we get in our bedroom, he immediately wraps his arms around me and kisses me much more passionately than he did in the living room. His hands are already at the hem of my shirt in anticipation of removing it.
      Maybe what I have to say can wait, I think as I unbuckle his suspenders and remove his shirt at light speed before running my greedy hands all over his chest and abs. There's one good side effect about his job, I think while he makes me stop what I'm doing so that he can remove my shirt.
      We have to be fast. Adele understands that Simon and I like to be alone for a while after he gets home from a long stay at work, but she thinks we're only kissing in here. Well, we do that too.
      Simon jerks my shorts and panties down roughly from where he crouches on the floor. Then he surprises me by shoving his face between my legs and circling my clit with his tongue. I cry out and grab his dreads in my fingers as I fight to remain standing.
      "Oh, baby," I gasp out, "I missed... you."
      He laughs a deep laugh in the back of his throat and gives me a chance to catch my breath as he works his way up my abdomen. I coyly step away and walk towards the bed. He stands up and watches me while I watch him remove his boxer shorts. His huge erection gleefully springs free from the confines of his clothing, but he doesn't give me much time to enjoy looking at him as he takes two steps over to the bed where I wait for him.

     Without a word, he lifts my legs up and pushes himself into me. I cry out from the intense pleasure of finally having my husband's dick inside me. Damn, I really missed him.
     He lets out a sigh as I guess he has similar thoughts running through his mind. Then he starts to rock his hips into me, pulling my legs up with him as he crouches over me. Our eyes meet for a few seconds as he slowly fucks me, and I enjoy every inch of him as he moves in and out of my wet center at an unhurried pace. In the back of my mind, I always worry when he takes it slow because of Adele and Jeremy, but I never ask him to speed up. I could never tire of this.
    "Sweet Pamela," he whispers, breaking our eye contact as he closes his eyes and tilts his head back a little to take a deep breath. His tempo never falters.
     I close my eyes when I feel that delicious tightening in my lower belly as my orgasm tells me of its impending arrival. Simon still doesn't speed up, and I have to breathe fast before biting hard on my lip to keep from crying out. It's only at this moment do I wish he would speed up, but I still don't ask because I know how good it will be if he doesn't.
     I whimper a little when he applies more force, and I can feel him brush up against my cervix. I throw my arms back on the bed on either side of my head and moan as I continue to slowly rise up to that desired moment.

     I whisper his name just before I finally climax. He whispers something I don't catch because I'm too caught up in him moving inside me at an even slower tempo as waves of pleasure rock the foundation of my universe. I'm in a state of nirvana as he thrusts himself into me over and over, saying my name and groaning softly. I love watching his mouth say my name.
    I grab one of the pillows next to me so that I can scream into it before moving it aside and watching my husband as his eyes roll to the back of his head.
     A whimper escapes me as I feel it happening again.

    "Fuck," he whispers. "Give it up, baby." I feel him throbbing inside of me. Everything is so sensitive when I'm like this. I remember loving sex when I was pregnant with Jeremy, and I'm glad to see that, at least for now, nothing has changed. Simon's eyes meet mine and hold me prisoner as he groans, "C'mon, give The Dragon his sweet seconds."
     I can't keep from crying out as I come again, and he groans as he pours himself into me, his dick thrusting so far into me that I cry out again, a little concerned.

    He pulls out and lays down to kiss me. "I love you," he says quietly to me. Then, he's quiet for a second before he says in a questioning way, "Something was different though."
    I work on catching my breath as I ask, "Really?"
    "Yeah," he says.

     When I pull back, I smile at him and say, "We're going to have a baby."
    I laugh at the look on his face. He looks like he's been knocked stupid.
    "Why do you act so surprised? We were trying, weren't we? You doubted your ability to knock up your woman?" I ask in a teasing voice.
     His expression changes to a broad smile before he tackles me back against my pillow and kisses me passionately.

54: Puppy Love

Belinda

     "Yes, she's free. I'll lead you back," I hear Lynne say to a customer.
     "I'm right here," I tell her just before she nearly runs into me. I see Julian Strong walking behind her. She tells me he's here for a massage, and I lead him back.
      After he gets changed into a towel, I can see the healing bruises on him, and it just breaks my heart.
      "Are you sure about this?" I ask. "I feel concerned I might hurt you with those bruises."
    "I've had worse," he says like they're no big deal. "Besides, I'm not looking for anything deep tissue or something like that. I have this spot," he says and tries to show me only to wind up turning around in a circle like a puppy chasing its tail. "Well, it's there somewhere, that bugs the hell out of me. I must have a pinched nerve or something." He gives me a 'please don't think I'm nuts' look.
    I smile to reassure him. Then I gesture to the table and say, "Let's see if I can fix it."
    I get to working, gently, on his back, and I quickly find the pinched spot. He has quite a knot, and I recommend he go to a chiropractor. He complains that he'd just wind up getting addicted to getting adjustments and he'd never be the same.
    "You could say the same about my job," I chuckle.

    "Well, if I'm going to choose one, this is the better choice," he mumbles before he's quiet again. I just shake my head and smile, knowing I can't convince him any more if he doesn't want to go see one.
    I find another spot, like the first one's other half, and work that one. He lets out a groan that says he really appreciates me finding that.
    "Belinda, you really do have the most wonderful hands," he mumbles into the table. Then he's quiet for a long time while I work his back and his legs. I start to wonder if he's fallen asleep. That's not an uncommon occurrence.
     I finish his massage with him sleeping the entire time. "Mr. Strong?" I ask quietly, hating to wake him up but needing him to wake up all the same. I have to lightly shake his shoulders to get him to wake up.
     "Hm?" he asks in a bleary voice and opens one eye. "Oh." He pushes up on his elbows. "Oh, I'm sorry. I guess I didn't realize how tired I was."
     I smile reassuringly while he sits up and scoots off the table. When he does, I see he's popped a tent under his towel. Again, this isn't terribly uncommon.
     "Oh dear God, I'm so sorry," he says like he's really embarrassed.
     "It's fine," I say, trying to get him to stop feeling embarrassed.
     "It's not. I'll just go."
     "Mr. Strong - "
     He interrupts me. "Thank you for working out that kink, but I really need to leave now." With that, he heads towards the showers, his hands covering himself.
     I sigh and start working on cleaning up the table.

     Later, Lynne comes up to me. "What happened with Julian? He all but flew out of here."
     I shrug and say, "He enjoyed it more than he expected." I know she knows what I mean.
     "Oh," she responds and smiles a small, knowing smile. "You and your magic hands."
     "I prefer skilled. You're the one with the magic," I tease.
     She sighs, obviously thinking of something not-so-funny. "Yes," she agrees.

Jesse

     She's not at the bar. Bryce isn't sure where she is, and he looked like he was curious, even though he'd never ask me unless I volunteer the info or look like I'm waiting to be asked, what was going on.
      I go and knock on her door. There's no answer. I actually peek into the window, and I don't see any lights on.
      Where is she?

      I try the gym. She's not there either.
      I drive around aimlessly after that, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. There are way too damn many blonde tourists about her height and build. Normally, I'd revel in this fact but not today.
     I park Martha at a public beach parking lot.
     When I get out of the car, I go ahead and take my shirt off since I'm headed to the beach anyway. I remember Marie once saying she wanted to work on her tan, so I decide to start here and work my way around the island to her apartment building, cursing myself for not checking the beach behind her building first.
    I get stopped a few times by some really cute chicks, but I have to politely refuse their offer to party. I'm a man on a mission.
     I'm insane. That brunette needed to be spanked.
     I sigh and shake my head to clear the crazed thoughts running through it.

     I walk a little further to a more empty space when I see a lone figure sitting cross-legged a little bit ahead of me in a shaded area. Blonde. Tanned to a darker bronze.
      Marie. I found her.
     I tread up to her as silently as I can. She looks to be in a deep meditation, and she doesn't show any outward sign that she notices me... not even when I sit down right in front of her.

      She's really out of it. Or... into it.
      A smile slowly covers my face as I sit and stare at her. She looks so peaceful that she could be asleep. It occurs to me that I've never seen her like this. Most of the time, she scowls at me. Occasionally, I've made her laugh, but I've never seen her this relaxed. It's nice, and I sigh happily.
     Her eyes open slowly and she, also slowly, realizes I'm sitting here staring at her. Then her eyes widen, and she scoots herself backwards as quick as lightning, kicking up a little bit of sand as she does.

     A jumble of French pours out of her mouth so fast that I can't catch even an eighth of before she switches.
     "What are you doing here?" she asks harshly.
     "Looking for you," I answer truthfully and watching closely for her reaction. I'm a little sad my happy sigh destroyed the peaceful moment.
       "How did you find me here? How long were you sitting there? What do you want?!"
      I take a deep breath and try to answer her questions one at a time. "I found you by taking a walk because everywhere else I tried didn't pan out. I remembered you once said that you wanted to go to the beach, and it was the next guess I had. I haven't been here but a few minutes, and I want to talk to you." She starts acting like she wants to get up and leave, so I place a calming hand on her knee which she frantically bats away. Oops, I think, realizing that it probably wasn't calming like I wanted. I then very visibly withdraw my hand and put it back on my own knee. "Please don't get up and leave. I want to apologize for last night."
     "I don't want to talk about last night, last Wednesday night, Friday night, Monday night or anything," she snaps.
      I feel a little confused as to what she could mean by Friday and Monday since I have no idea why she would be mad at me for those, but I refrain from asking since it looks like it would just start a fight. Monday...
     "And I want to apologize for not showing up Monday morning. I gathered from your message that you didn't cancel the lesson like I thought you did when you stormed out of my house." Her lips harden into a line like she's working on hiding something. Shit, I hurt her by that. "I'm sorry, Marie. I mean, what was I to think? You never texted me back or anything. I thought you'd decided against it."
     "You could have at least called and asked me if I'd cancelled it," she says angrily.
     "And have you bite my head off or worse... ignore me again? No thank you," I tell her sharply.
     She gets up and dusts the sand off her butt and legs. Then she starts walking down the beach.

      "Where are you going?" I ask as I hop up to follow her.
      "Home," she answers simply and keeps walking.
      "Are you not going to accept my apology?"
      "Fine. I accept your apology," she says exasperatedly.
      "You do? You sure don't sound like you do," I say once I've caught up to her very fast walking pace.

      She surprises me when she suddenly stops and rounds on me. "What do you want from me, Jesse?"
      Even though I know what I want from her, the question takes me by surprise. I'm not sure what answer she wants or what she's really asking. "What do you mean?" I ask back. She's asked me that frequently enough, so I feel fine asking her to clarify.
     "I'm not going to sleep with you. I don't want to date anyone. You failed to show up for your simfu lesson. Right now, you're not even making a very good friend," she snaps before she turns and walks off again.
     Not ever? I think, still somewhat stuck on her first and second statement. No, she's just saying that to get me to leave her alone.
     I stop walking. "So, you want me to leave you alone." I state my question, and she stops walking also.
     She stands perfectly still, looking down at the sand. "I didn't think you actually would."
    That wasn't a 'yes,' I think with a small amount of hope. "I tried," I tell her and walk up to her until I'm standing at her shoulder. I'm afraid to touch her for fear of freaking her out. "I really tried to leave you alone, and it was killing me. So, since I'm off today, I decided to get drunk last night, and I couldn't stop myself from calling you." I figure I may as well talk about the phone call now. "I'm sorry for being drunk the first time I told you I love you."
     She turns to me with a desperate expression on her face before she reprimands me. "Jesse, please! Listen to yourself! You don't know me. How can you say that?"
      I interject, "Because I know what I feel."
      "Don't say that to me!" she continues.
      "Let me guess -- because you can't 'handle' it," I say in a somewhat sad/somewhat angry voice.
      "You're damn right!"
      It's almost everything I can do to keep myself from kissing her. My first response to something like this would normally be that... 'stop the arguing by changing the mood.' If I kissed her, maybe she'd believe me when I tell her I love her.
      "All right. If you don't want me to say it, then I won't say it. It's still true though," I say, and I'm sure to lock my eyes with hers.
     "You haven't even known me for two weeks! How can you say that?"
     "Two weeks, six months, five years, it doesn't matter. When you know, you know," I answer her, knowing I'm probably pushing too hard, but I will not let her try to convince me that I don't love her. One of the things I love about her is that she's a fighter. I wish she wasn't fighting me, though.

     "Jesse!" I hear squealed behind me. "Sarah was right! It is you!"
     My eyes still rest on Marie as she looks at the sand at our feet. I can't read her expression.
     A woman's arms wrap around my neck from behind me as she pulls me down to her and kisses me on the cheek while she walks around me. I look at Marie looking at her before I look for myself to see who it is. I feel terrible I can't place her.
     She laughs at my slightly-bewildered expression and says, "It's been a few years. Amber."
     "Oh. Um, hi, Amber," I manage to get out.
     Marie walks off in the direction of her apartment.
     "Marie, wait!" I say with Amber's arms still around me. Marie keeps walking.
     "Oh, did I interrupt something?" Amber asks facetiously like she knew exactly what she was doing.

      I try to unwrap her arms as I say, "Nice to see you again, Amber, but yes, you're interrupting something." I hazard a glance down at her mildly-peeved expression. Yes, about three years ago. She was one of mine and Bryce's 'volunteers' for the timed competition.
       I'd better warn Bryce.
       But first, I have to catch Marie.... who is now running away!
     Amber's arms stick to me like glue while she says, "And I told Diane that if anyone on this island could show us a party it was you and Bryce. Are you going to make me go back on my word?"
      "I'm really sorry, Amber, but I just can't anymore." I have to use a lot of strength to get this woman off me. Finally, I'm able to chase after Marie.
      'Just let her go, Jesse. She doesn't want you bothering her.'
      Shut up.
      Amber yells behind me so that it reaches me, "I guess I'll see you at Bryce's bar later then?"
      I don't answer; I'm too busy chasing Marie in a very literal sense. Damn, this woman is fast... and on sand too.
      I'm panting now, but I hazard a plea. "Marie, please stop!"
      "Leave me alone!" she yells back to me without looking back.
      No, not after that sad look on your face after you thought I had, I think stubbornly as her apartment building looms on the horizon. Still, that she said it wrenches painfully at my heart, and I slow down.
       She goes a little further before turning to look back at me. She doesn't see the rock in the sand and trips on it before landing on her side very ungracefully. Then she immediately rolls to her back and holds her knee like she's in pain. Her mouth freezes in a silent scream before she rolls away from me.

      "Crap! Marie! Are you okay?!" I yell, covering the distance as fast as I can. She's crying, finally able to catch her breath.
      When I get to her, she says through her tears, "Just like in a damn movie. The heroine runs away and trips like an imbecile when she turns to look back."
       "So that makes me the bad guy?" I ask, trying to figure out how to help her. She lies there bawling, her whole frame shaking with her sobs. "Marie, what can I do to help?" I plead.
      "Nothing," she answers. "It's probably only a sprain. Not broken."
      "Then you need ice on it," I point out and wonder how I'm going to get her to some ice.
      "No. The body swells for a reason," she replies and works on standing up.
      "Don't. You'll hurt yourself."
      "I have to get up," she maintains stubbornly.
      I watch helplessly as she makes herself stand on her good leg before gingerly trying out her injured one. She lets out a small cry the instant any weight is put on the limb, and she nearly falls sideways before I reach out and catch her.
      "Help me to my building," she asks of me and puts an arm around my shoulder for support.

       We try hobbling her towards her house for about ten seconds before I get irritated and bend down to pick her up. I growl at her protest and say, "Get over it. I'm perfectly capable of doing this, and you're just going to hurt yourself more by being stubborn." She shuts up after that.
      By the time we get her settled on her couch, the sun has started going down. I rummage around in her kitchen to find a bag and put some ice in it.
      "The body swells to prevent further injury. It needs to stay swollen," she quietly argues with me through the partition wall between her living room and kitchen.
       "Not to the point of cutting off circulation," I argue back.
       "It's not that swollen!"
       I glance over at her knee and see it's getting very swollen, and I shoot her a dubious look. Then, ice bag filled, I march over to her and shove the bag into her hand.
      "Humor me," I request.

     The pair of us are quiet for several minutes while she reclines on the couch and I sit on the edge of her coffee table.
     "I thought you'd want to go and party with Amber and her friends. This has got to be very boring just sitting here like this," she says quietly without looking at me.
     "That reminds me," I say and quickly text Bryce a warning. "I warned Bryce," I tell her in explanation for my silence. "And no, I'm not wanting to go party. This is, with the exception of you being injured, the happiest I've been all week." And it's true. She might be mad at me, but even that's better than being without her.
      "So that's what you do with old lovers. You just brush them aside like they annoy you and warn Bryce to do the same. Did you two share her or did he make it with one of her friends?" she asks in a crass manner, but then she blushes.
     I don't know whether to be angry or laugh my head off. "No, we didn't share her, and she was one that knew she didn't matter, that it was just for fun." I can feel my lips quirk as I hold in the laughter. I think it was her blush after she asked that that I found humorous. Some thought nags me in the back of my mind, and I'm irritated that I can't figure out what it is. So what do we do now?
     I think of something, possibly the one thing that I can still get her to agree to. "Will you give me another chance to take simfu lessons? I honestly thought you'd canceled."
     Her face pinches for a second as a painful thought occurs to her. "But I'm injured."
     "But you'll get better." Then a funny thought occurs to me, "And you can get me doing stuff that doesn't require you showing me how to do it like... waxing cars or painting fences and stuff."
     I see her fight it for a second before she laughs. Then she takes a breath and says, "But I don't own a car or the land I live on, so I can't get you doing those things." She thinks for a minute. "But you can do my laundry... since you're so good at folding towels."

     "And what would I learn simfu-wise about that?" I ask, bewildered but entertained.
     "Well, not much about simfu itself, but I can't do it myself, and it's partly your fault. And keep in mind I'll be keeping an eye on you. You need to learn that stealing other people's clothing is wrong," she answers, looking me dead in the face.
    I work very hard at keeping an innocent expression as I ask, "When do I start?"