The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (10 page)

A pearlescent bead builds at the tip.

“Fuck yeah,” from the tiny phone speakers.

I mute the audio in a panicked frenzy.

Semen shoots from the penis.

Lots of it. Rope after rope sticks to rippled abs.

Okay, those abs have to be Lance’s.

The camera turns up to show his face, a sleepy grin from ear to ear. He starts talking. I can’t read lips.

I back up the video and turn the volume up to minimum and cup my hand around the speaker and hold it to my ear as I replay the end of the video.

“That was me,” video Lance says, “thinking all about you and what I’m going to do to you tonight when I tear your bikini off. But this time my cum will end up inside you. Every. Hot. Sticky. Drop.”

Guilt.

I mean, gulp.

“Chastity!!” Mom hollers.

“Coming!” Or close to it. Because my lips are actually quivering.

Yes,
those
lips.

Wow.

Chapter 7

CHASTITY

“This scene is putting me to sleep,” Lark says at my pool party that night.

The two of us stand off to the side in my backyard. Paper lanterns hang above the sedate crowd of guests standing around the folding tables with the appetizers. Calling this a pool
party
is completely misleading. It’s more like a pool gathering of my frumpy friends from church and the few approved heathens from high school Mom allows at the house. Nobody is wearing their swimsuits except Charity. They’re just standing around talking politely on the patio like this is post-Bible study tea and cookies.

Lark mutters, “Do you want me to spike the punch?”

“Good luck with that,” I smirk. “Mom is hovering around the punch bowl like a hawk.”

“I have my ways,” Lark winks deviously.

“Yeah, but did you bring any booze?”

“Sadly, no. I figured your mom would frisk me at the door.”

“Some help you are,” I chuckle and sip the sparkling cranberry cocktail punch Mom made for the party. Not only does Mom not allow alcohol at my party, we don’t even have regular soda or anything with caffeine. Just her fizzy juice concoctions. When Mom was making the punch earlier, I jokingly asked her if drinking sparkling water was a sin. Her response was, “No, but disrespecting your elders is.”

The only thing remotely close to a party vibe in this place is Lark. Her shoulder-length wavy blonde ombre hair is as unruly as her outfit. Her cleavage revealing knit camisole and pink short shorts drew a double-take from Mom when she arrived. I’m surprised Mom didn’t send her home to change. Lark is my only certifiably cool friend. The only reason Mom lets her come to the house anymore is because I’ve known her since pre-school.

Meanwhile, I’m literally wearing one of my church dresses. Mom insisted on it at the last minute and I didn’t want to start a fight with her right before my party. She probably strategized that maneuver well in advance. Not that I have any outfits as racy as Lark’s. Instead, I look like the kind of girl who marries a guy like Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. Mom would
love
that.

Okely Dokely!

I cringe.

I’d rather be a nun.

Lark says, “Maybe I should go home and get my Twister game. That might loosen up all your stiff friends.”

“Are you kidding? Do you think
my
mom would let kids play a game that required everyone to get tangled up like that? We may as well ask Mom if we can have an orgy.”

“Good point. How about Simon Says? Faith would totally let us play that, right? Or maybe Duck-duck-goose?”

I give her a smirk.

“Musical chairs? Freeze tag?”

“Shut up,” I laugh, hating the fact that her suggestions are right on the money. I heave a sigh, nearly drowning in despair as I watch my hopes for an exciting and memorable eighteenth birthday go down like a sinking ship. Sadly, Lance never showed up. Or texted.

“What’s all this racket?!” A baritone voice booms from the side of the house, startling everyone. All heads turn. The side gate clatters shut and the mystery voice continues, “If you people don’t put a lid on all this noise, I’m gonna call the cops.”

“Lance!” I blurt as he walks around the shadowy corner of the house.

He grins huge and walks over to me and Lark. “What up, ladies.”

Without thinking, I throw my arms around his neck and hug him. A second later, I feel my mom burning a hole in my back with a judgmental stare, so I release him.

“Is this him?” Lark says bluntly.

Lance laughs. “Yeah, it’s him. The man himself.”

 
I giggle, “Lark, this is Lance. My new neighbor I was telling you about earlier.”

“I thought you said he was a dork,” Lark laughs.

“I did not!”

Lance chuckles, “She probably meant my dad.”

“In that case,” Lark’s eyes glimmer at Lance, “howdy, neighbor,” she purrs.

A flare of jealousy lights up my chest. I want to hiss,
He’s not your neighbor. He’s mine. So hands off!
I take a deep breath and remind myself Lark is always flirty like this and she would never try to steal my boyfriend, or whatever Lance is. Is he my anything? I don’t know. I can’t think straight because keeping my claws under control takes all my focus.

Lance grins his devilish grin and takes a long look at Lark. Perhaps too long.

She grins sensually.

Claws
. I mean,
focus
.

He says, “What up, Lark the Spark?”

Lark coos, “Lark the spark. I like that. Nobody has ever called me that before.”

She’s telling the truth, as far as I know.

“No way,” Lance says.

“Way,” Lark chuckles confidently like they’ve been friends forever. She has no fear when it comes to hot guys.

Claws! Focus!

Lance runs his eyes up and down every inch of Lark’s exposed skin. “Your friends must not know you very well, Lark. I picked up on your vibe the second I saw you.”

“Really?” Lark flirts seductively.

Claws, claws, claws!

I huff, “Hey, Sparky. Do you two need a room?”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be jelly, Chaz. I’m just window shopping.”

“Who the fuck nicknamed you Chaz anyway?” Lance blurts. “It sounds like a dude’s name.”

“You think Chastity sounds better?” I challenge.

Lark asks, “Didn’t you nickname her, Lance?”

“Nope.”

Lark grins at me, “No wonder she’s jelly.”

“I am
not
jealous.
Sparky
.”

clawsclawsclaws

She rolls her eyes. “Uh huh. Give her a nickname, Lance. She won’t chillax until you do.”

Lance eyes me up and down. “How about Pink?”

I say, “Like the singer?”

“No fucking way. I hate that chick’s butch hair cut. This is more my style.” He runs his fingers through my long curly hair.

“Stop,” I say bashfully. Not because I want him to but because Mom is around here somewhere and I don’t want her seeing.

“You like it,” Lance chuckles.

I pull my hair away and he lowers his arm. I ask him, “So… why Pink?”

“You really wanna know?” The look in his eyes says maybe I don’t want to know here in front of Lark and the rest of the pool gathering.

“I do,” Lark blurts.

Lance’s slow grin spreads and he drills me with his hot gaze. “Ever since I saw you bent over your car flashing me your pink bikini and carrying that pink cake box, all I can think about is your pink pussy and how sweet it’s going to taste.”

I’m blushing and speechless.

“Oh. My. Fuck!” Lark laughs, her mouth agape. “Jesus, Chaz! This guy may be too much for you to handle.”

I should be thinking
claws, claws, claws!
But they melted with the rest of me a second ago.

“That’s for damn sure,” Lance says. “But I’m gonna fuck her anyway.”

Melt, melt, melt…

And…
drip.

Lark is literally fanning her face. “Stud alert!” She laughs.

Mom glares at me from across the pool. That breaks the spell.

I hiss, “Can you guys not talk like this when my Mom is right there?”

“Sure,” Lance grins. “But I’m still gonna fuck you. Tonight.” He smiles at Lark, “It’s her eighteenth. Every girl wants to get fucked by a hot guy on her eighteenth. Am I right?”

Lark is shaking her head, wide eyed and marveling at Lance. “You are the cockiest sonuvabitch I’ve ever met.”

“And you haven’t even seen my cock,” he winks.

“I hear it’s substantial,” Lark giggles.

“Lark!” I hiss.

Lance grins. “You told her, didn’t you?”

“No! I…”

“You told her. It’s cool. Chicks always gossip about my dick.”

Now my mouth is agape. “Are you for real?”

“Last night I was.”

I laugh guiltily.

Lance just smiles.

Lark breaks into belly laughs.

Mom glares.

Apparently, my pool party is already running off the rails Mom laid down for it and it’s quickly heading in the direction Lance planned.

And we all know where that is.

Sex Town.

Admission: one V ticket.

Does Lance always get his way?

I guess I’m about to find out.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

“You guys have anything to drink?” Lance asks.

“There’s no booze,” Lark rolls her eyes.

“That’s cool. I’ll take whatever.”

I lead Lance over to the crowded food tables.

The church girls surround him. Lance is literally the finest fox in this uptight henhouse, so it’s no surprise they drool over him. He looks deliciously dashing under the light of the paper lanterns. Mom gives Lance a minimally polite hello before ignoring him. But she makes sure to glare at him whenever his back is turned. She is so transparent. The few guys here don’t know what to make of him. He’s older than all of them. I think they’re scared of his tattoos and muscles. But Lance is charming everybody. He’s laid back and funny. Based on how he’s acting, you’d think he had known everyone here for years.

Lance is the shining star lighting up my party.

After a while, he squeezes out of the henhouse and says to me, “Hey, Chastity, this may sound weird, but have you seen my dad around? He isn’t at the house.”

“Funny you should ask,” I say. “He’s still here.”

“No shit?” Lance chuckles.

“Wait,” Lark says, “that guy is Lance’s
dad
?”

Mr. McKnight sits in the farthest corner of the yard on the prayer bench Mom built years ago. The bench is partially screened off by hedges. Mr. McKnight is in shadow, backlit by the low garden lights. He sips from his AriZona Iced Tea bottle, which I’m noticing he carries everywhere. He wears clean jeans and a brand new Harley-Davidson T-shirt with a metallic eagle on the front. A definite step up from his wife-beater. His hair is freshly washed and naturally rakish, like Lance’s. In the dim light, he could be Lance’s older brother.

“That’s him,” Lance sighs, disappointed.

Mr. McKnight notices us watching him and raises his AriZona bottle in a toast.

“You should go say hello,” I encourage.

Lance’s jaw muscles dance for a moment as he stares at his dad. “Later,” he says with a tinge of agitation.

That’s weird.

“Wow, Chaz,” Lark says, “since you get Lance, do you mind if I take his dad?”

Lance grimaces.

So do I. “Um, I think my mom has already laid claim.”

Lark’s eyes pop. “I thought she was acting a little chummy with him. That is disturbing!”

“Don’t remind me.”

“When are you guys gonna double date?” Lark jokes.

Lance and I both recoil in horror.

Lark snorts, “Easy guys. It’s just talk. It’s not like your parents are gonna marry and make you two—”

“Stop!” I shout.

All conversation goes quiet and everyone turns to look at me.

“Sorry!” I wince. “Carry on! Lots of food and drink! Eat to your heart’s content!” Everyone is still staring. “The pool is empty if you’d like to go for a swim!”

More Staring.

“Chastity,” Mom says, “Is something wrong?”

“Nope! Everything is right! Go back to the party! Chatter chatter chatter!”

Slowly, people go back to what they were doing.

Lark is grinning.

“Geez, Lark,” I hiss. “Change of subject, please.”

“Okay. How about we light this party up? It’s way too boring for your eighteenth.”

“That’s right,” Lance grins at her. “Your lying friend Pink told me she was already eighteen when I met her yesterday.”

“What?!” Lark gasps. “You did? No way! You’re going straight to hell, Chaz. Lance, you better watch out with this one. She’ll take you there with her.”

He grins, “Where, to hell?”

Lark nods overly seriously. “Mmm-hmm. The City of Satan.”

“Satan doesn’t have a city,” I mutter to myself.

“How would you know?” she challenges. “Have you been to hell?”

“No. And I don’t plan on going.”

Lance scoffs, “Don’t worry about me, ladies. I booked a first class ticket to the City of Satan years ago.” He winks at me. “Paid for it with my frequent flyer miles.”

“You shouldn’t joke about that,” I grumble. No matter how much Mom likes to tell me and Charity that something as slight as running a red light or taking the Lord’s name in vain will earn us a one way trip to eternal torment in the land of fiery cauldrons, and no matter how ridiculous I think she is, the jury is still out on whether or not people go to hell for minor transgressions. So my motto is play it safe.

Lark rolls her eyes, “I told you, Chaz. God is nice. She doesn’t send people to hell for lying about their age.”

“Still,” I grumble.

“Fuck that noise,” Lance says. “No more God talk. This is a party. We’re supposed to be having fun. We need some music. I feel like we’re stuck inside that old movie
Footloose
.”

“Foot what?” Lark asks.

“Nothing. Pink, your party needs tuneage. Now.”

I frown, “My mom and I have a…
thing
when it comes to what music is allowed in the house. Or at my parties. The compromise was not to have any.”

Lance gawks. “You can’t have a party without music. This place feels like a fucking mortuary.”