Taboo (8 page)

I walk toward the gate,
passing Bikini Mom. She’s wearing yellow today and looks like a lemon. Or a banana. Or a jackass. “Everything okay?” she asks.

I narrow my eyes but just say, “Sure, just getting some extra sunscreen.
Hot today, right?”

“Scorching,” she says, but I can feel her eyes on my back as I walk into the pool.

*

The Fourth is on a Friday and I have the day off. But I don’t want the day off. I want my time with Aqua-Man at the pool since we haven’t seen each other in days. When Betsy invites me to hang with them, I jump on it.

Betsy and Dave
are pretty cool. They’re only about ten years older than I am. Dave’s an architect and Betsy works in his office. I found the job through a mutual friend who knew I was moving to the area for school. They needed a nanny and I needed a job and somewhere to live.

The weir
dest part about hanging out with them at the pool and not Finley, is that they sit with the parent crowd. The crowd that I avoid like the plague during the week. Bikini Mom holds court today, wearing a red, white, and blue suit. Tiny white stars cover her ass. They’re all drinking a lot and I have a beer or two, because I’m an adult and off duty, but a couple of them have started acting a little stupid so I keep my distance. I’m preoccupied with Carter anyway. He and I sneak looks at one another all day. After the second beer I find myself getting increasingly horny.

“Oh shoot,” Betsy says. She’s holding a huge watermelon. “I forgot a knife.
”

“I’ll
check the kitchen,” I volunteer, hopping out of my chair. I make my way across the super busy pool deck, dodging kids, floaties, and crying babies. I walk up to Carter and ask, “Do you have a knife we can borrow?”

I’m tipsy
so the words come out a bit more sultry than I intended. It could have been me checking my tan lines and adjusting my bathing suit. The other guard looks down from the stand and coughs. Carter pales. “Yeah, back here.”

He walks past the kitchen to the pump room and shoves me inside.
“What the?” I laugh. It smells like oil and grease but his mouth is on mine and he’s tugging at my top.

“I missed you,” he breathes into my mouth. He drops his head and kisses my breasts, sucking on one nipple then the other. He knows how sensitive they are and if he plays with them just right, I’ll
come standing up.

“Carter,” I beg, not sure if it’s a demand to stop or continue. He takes it as encouragement, pushing his fingers under t
he acrylic fabric of my suit.

“That didn’t take long,” he says about how slick and wet I already am. He pushes
one, then another finger inside.

“Oh god,” I cry into his shoulder, happy the pump is loud.

“Come on, babe.” For once I do as I’m told and lean my head back against the wall.  His fingers work like magic, rubbing and curving at the right angle. I whimper, tiny cries coming out of my open mouth and he whispers, “I’ve got you,” while holding me up. I let go, shattering in a million different pieces as my senses are exposed all at once.

“Wow,
” I say, sliding back to my feet.

“Yeah.”

I hear a shriek outside, the kids playing at the pool and I say, “We should go because, shit, my boss is out there looking for a knife and I just got fingered in the pump room. I’m not sure how to explain that.”

I leave the pump room first, stopping by the kitchen to grab a knife. Betsy has cu
t the watermelon in a dozen pieces by the time I spot Carter back on the stand. Everyone seems oblivious, not even noticing my flushed, red chest. Everyone that is, but Bikini Mom. I see her looking between us. Back and forth from the guard chair to where I stand passing out watermelon slices to the girls. I don’t know what her problem is or why she’s paying so much attention but I know he and I should be more careful.

Easier said than done.

Chapter
17

Finley makes
a pie just like she promised. Two, in fact. One cherry, one apple. I make deviled eggs and altogether we manage to scrape up a full picnic. The humidity has dropped making it cooler than expected, and it’s windy, which is nice except it could mean a storm is passing through.

“Cute dress,” Finley says. I took a risk and wore a white eyelet sundress. The stark color makes my tan look
fantastic. I wore my hair down like Carter likes.

“Thanks.”

“Hopefully, if it rains it will be after the fireworks,” Finley says. She nudges my arm with her elbow. “See? I told you they would get along.”

Ryan and Carter stand
in an empty section of grass tossing a purple Frisbee. From the snatches of conversation I can hear, the majority of conversation centers on sports. Figures.

“Frisbee, soccer and football.
Universal language of men, I guess.”

“So,” Finley says. She’s unpacking plates and utensils. “What’s going on with Bikini
Mom. Why are you so worried about it?”

“Why? Are you kidding?” I ask. “I’m screwing a te
enager. It may not be illegal but if word gets around I could lose my job.”

“Just relax. You heard her. Her marriage is a mess and she wanted Carter to be her little fling. She doesn’t know you’re together but she sure can’t get his attention like she wanted.”

“I guess.”

“Plus you have the body she paid for. That probably pisses her off more than anything.”

“Probably. It’s just not really worth it to lose my job over sex, you know.” I glance over at Carter, who’s running across the field full speed to catch the Frisbee. He leaps over a couple eating dinner and crashes to the ground. We both cheer when he stands, dirty and covered in grass stains, but holding the disc up in victory. I roll my eyes. “Really good sex. But still just sex.”

“There’s nothing more between you guys?”

I stop what I’m doing. “Why would you say that?”

“You t
wo just look pretty happy, you know? I thought maybe things had progressed beyond fuck buddy.”

“I like him. He’s fun and smart. We have a good time together, but what? I’m going to his frat parties this fall? I’ve already lived that life once.”

Carter and Ryan walk our direction. I notice how Carter’s hair keeps getting blonder from the days in the sun and his skin has turned an ever darker brown. I rarely see him in nice clothes. Usually, it’s either bathing trunks or a sloppy T-shirt. Or naked. But tonight he has on a clean white button down and plaid shorts. Red, white and blue for the occasion.

The guys approach the blanket and Carter sits next to me, leaning over for a kiss. 
A real kiss. The PDA kind I’m not used to with him. I pull back a little, only giving him a soft peck. The disappointment and confusion is clear on his face but he doesn’t say anything.

Finley, of course, does.

“Really? The first time you guys go out in public and that’s it?” she asks. “Come on, kiss her like you mean it.”

My cheeks flush h
ot and Carter raises a sly eyebrow. He’s not afraid of her but for a brief moment I’m afraid of him because he’s not one to back away from a challenge. I don’t know much about him but I do know that.

“You don’t have to—
,“ I start, but he cuts me off with that mouth of his. Jesus, that mouth. He goes for it, tongue and all and I melt like a stick of butter at a picnic on the Fourth of July. For once he smells like soap instead of sunscreen and if he tried to take off my dress I’d probably let him, right here, right in the middle of the park.

Thank god one of us is the mature one in the relationship and stops.
Carter politely removes my fingers from his hair.

“Nice,” Finley nods
in approval. “Now that you’ve gotten that out of your system, can we just act normal now? No need to hide. No weirdness. No awkward crap, okay?”

Easy for her to say.
After that kiss I’m like a dog in heat. Since I can’t do anything about it, I eat six deviled eggs and four pieces of pie and wait for the night to be over.

*

The first crack of lightning comes just after dark but before the first firework. It’s loud and scary, zigzagging over our heads. The four of us look at one another and Finley shouts, “Grab the stuff and run!”

Everyone gets a handful. I pick up the blanket while Carter gets the basket. Finley and Ryan shove the rest into t
heir bags. We scream goodbye as fat drops of rain start to fall. Carter’s hands slips into mine—dragging me through the storm.

I’ve never been caught in a storm like thi
s, with huge drops of rain and booming thunder and lightning. It’s so heavy I can barely see three feet in front of me. Carter shouts, “Over there,” and we dash under the eaves of a small church about fifty feet from his car.

“Wow,” he says, dumping our stuff on the ground. We’re safe from the rain
under here but the thunder and lightning are still scary. He looks at me and frowns. “You’re freezing.”

I’m drenched, like a rat, my hair matted to my neck.
“I’m F-f-f-ine,” I stutter, my teeth chattering. He’s no dryer than I am.

“You’re also basically naked,” he points out. I look down and he’s right,
My white dress turned completely see-through in the rain. He reaches over his head and pulls off his wet shirt, slipping it over my arms one by one and then my head. He wraps both arms around me, in an attempt to share his body heat. We wait out the storm in one another’s arms.

Chapter 18

After the fourth of July, it hits me. We only have three weeks left before he leaves for school. Sure, we’ll both be in the same area, Raleigh-Durham, but the college is huge and we’re in completely different programs. Odds are we’ll never see one another again.

The idea makes me risky and hornier than ever. I have no doubt the other guards know what’s going on since one of them cau
ght us making out in the office. After that we’ve kept our hands off one another at the pool. Then a group of kids got busted smoking weed in the parking lot one night, ensuring police patrols once a night. We’re running out of time, space and location. All of these things make me desperate.

“Why not?” he asks for what seems like the millionth time.

“Because coming to the house feels like crossing a line or something. My bosses are right there.”  We’re trying to figure out how we can see each other—be together—without getting caught. The back of the car has lost its appeal.

“What? You can’t have friends over?”

“You know I can, Carter, but you’re eighteen. What if they see you? What if they tell your parents or something?” We haven’t talked about the age thing in a while and now it just feels strange. I no longer see him as differently as I did before, but not everyone will feel the same way.

“I don’t care if they know,” he says petulantly. We’re in his car
, behind the movie theater, parked in the shadowy dark. The late show starts in an hour but we couldn’t figure out where to go while we waited. Hence the argument.

“Three weeks, babe, that’s all we have left. Do you really want the hassle of parents and all tha
t coming down on us? Because they will and it’s not worth it.”

He’s working his jaw, flexing it tight. I reach out and touch it,
trying to sooth his anger. He jerks away. Angry at me. At the situation. At being a kid. I don’t blame him.

“Just think, in a couple of weeks
you won’t have this problem. You can screw anyone you want and no one will care. Sorority girls, cheerleaders, townies…no curfew, no parents.”

Carter pushes my hand away and shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

“What?”

He flings open the door and gets out of the car, slamming it behind him. I wait for him to calm down and come back in but he doesn’t. He just leans against the car, stony faced and hurt.

I get out and approach him. “I didn’t say anything that’s not true.”

“You don’t have to be so blasé about it, you know.”

“Yeah,” I tell him. “I do. Because this isn’t real. Real starts in three weeks. You’ll know it when you see it.”

“So this is just sex for you,” he challenges.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I never said it was anything more.”

Carter runs his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. I think he’d pull it out if he could. “I don’t believe that,” he whispers.

This has gone too far, has become too serious, so I step forward. “Carter…”

“So you’re just here to teach me,” he cuts me off.  His gray eyes flash hot. “Show me how to pleasure a woman, make her feel like a queen, is that all? Is that what I am?
A student? A protégé?”

I want to argue but anything I say will give him false hope
, so I bite my lip and look away, keeping my mouth shut. He steps forward and takes my face in his hands. “You’re right. You were clear about what you wanted from the beginning. You leveled with me and I’m fine with it. I’m just stressed and nervous about school…” He kisses me then, long and hard, darting his tongue in my mouth. I want to fight him but I don’t—I never do and when he lifts me up I wrap my legs around his waist.