The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (20 page)

“No,” Lark moans, “I was kissing Naughty.”

“Say goodnight to Naughty. It’s past your bed time.”

Lark stands and coils her arms around Lance’s neck. She smiles with sleepy eyes. “Are you taking me to bed? Do I get to see your lance, Lance? I don’t mind sharing with Chaz. Unless Naughty and Mitch have lances too? Then we can have a jousting tournament!” She giggles at her own joke.

I grimace.

“Let’s go, Lark.” Lance puts his arm around her waist and turns her toward the front door.

I stand up to help.

Scottie shoots to his feet and puts a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “Yo, bro. Where do you think you’re going with her?”

“Sit down, dude,” Lance warns.

“No, man.”

“Sit. Down.”

“She’s not your girlfriend, bro,” Scottie says.

“She’s not yours either, so back off.”

It’s so loud with all the people dancing and the karaoke, nobody notices the tension between Lance and Scottie. Except Mitch. He stands up, backing Scottie’s play. Both are buzzed on saki.

Lance looks at me. “Hold her?” I prop up Lark so Lance has his hands free. He turns to the other two. “Gentlemen.”

They stare at Lance.

He says, “Lark is going home with us. You are staying here. If you follow us, you will regret it.”

Scottie’s face goes testosterone. “No, man. She stays with us.”

Lance’s hand flies up and he knuckles Scottie in the throat with one finger.

Scottie makes a “Gulck!” sound and crumples into his chair, almost falling on the floor, but his arm slams the top of the table, rattling glasses, and he stays in his seat. Barely.

“You should sit down too,” Lance says to Mitch.

He does.

It’s all over so fast, no one in the restaurant notices.

Lance helps me walk Lark outside.

“She can’t drive,” I say on the sidewalk.

“You drive her home. I’ll follow on my Gixxer.”

“What’s a gickser?”

“Gixxer.” He grins, “Sorry. Guy talk. It’s short for GSXR.”

“You’re such a nerd. Gixxer sounds like a toy.”

“Boys and their toys,” he chuckles.

We walk to Lark’s car, load her in, drive to the park where Lance’s Gixxer is, then head toward Lark’s apartment. We walk Lark up the stairs and ring the doorbell.

“Chaz! How are you?!” Lark’s mom beams. Patience Barksdale is as pretty and blonde as Lark, but she’s very granola and outdoorsy. She won’t let me call her Mrs. Barksdale.

I smile, “Hi, Patience.”

“Mom!!” Lark blurts. “I love you so much, Mom!”

Patience rolls her eyes at drunk Lark then says to me, “She didn’t drive, did she?”

“No,” I say. “I did.”

“That’s good. Did she do anything stupid?” she asks, taking Lark from me and Lance in the small apartment’s main area, which includes the tiny dining room, kitchen, and living room.

“Almost,” Lance says.

Patience narrows her eyes.

“It was nothing,” I say hastily.

“That’s good.” Patience nods uncertainly at me. To Lark, “Why can’t you be more responsible like your sister?” She chuckles nervously as she leads Lark to the couch. “I worry about you.”

“Why can’t she be more like me?” Lark muses sleepily as we all sit down.

“You’re right. There’s only one you,” Patience smiles, patting her daughter’s hand lovingly. She turns to me and Lance. “You two don’t have to stay. I can take care of her from here. And thank you, Chaz. As always.”

“No problem,” I grin.

“Are you the new boyfriend?” she asks Lance.

My eyes bug.

Lance chuckles. “We’re friends. I’m Lance.”

They shake hands.

Lark giggles. “I told Mom you’re going to marry each other.”

My eyes butterfly.

“Remember,” Lark chirps. “I’m the maid of honor.”

Patience rubs Lark’s thigh affectionately. “Lark likes to make up stories.” It’s obvious that it doesn’t bother Patience. She accepts it because she loves her daughter unconditionally.

I’m jealous that Lark can come home drunk and her mom acts like it’s business as usual. Not that Lark drinks often. She doesn’t. But Patience is so mellow. Lark is so lucky. I’ve always been jealous of their relationship, and often dreamed of being adopted into the Barksdale family. Sadly, that’s just fantasy.

Lark frowns sleepily. “They’re totally getting married.”

“Okay!” I blurt and shoot to my feet. “Time to go!”

We say our goodbyes before Lance and I walk down the steps to his motorcycle.

I say, “Thanks for helping me get Lark home.”

“No worries. Where to now?” He hands me my helmet.

“Um…” I don’t want to think about what is going to happen when Mom sees me tonight. And I’m not even drunk. Just jobless.

Whir.

Lance frowns, “Something bothering you?”

“Is it that obvious,” I whine.

“To me it is. I should get you home.”

In that moment I realize Lance is a special man with much more depth than meets the eye.

He is definitely boyfriend material.

What I can’t tell is whether or not he feels the same way.

++++8++++

CHASTITY

Lance drives his motorcycle into his driveway and parks.

I grimace, “I should’ve asked Patience if I could crash at their apartment.”

“You worried about your mom?”

“Yeah.” I search Lance’s gorgeous eyes, wondering what he’s thinking.

“You wanna crash here?”

My heart jumps. “I would love to!” I clear my throat and try to act casual. “I mean, sure. Yeah. Whatever is fine.” I know Mom will freak if I don’t come home, but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

He smirks and nods toward the house. “Inside.”

I wrap my arms around his elbow and he leads me to the front door, his keys in hand. He opens it and the TV blares in the living room. Some woman squeals, “Oh! Oh! Oh! Right there! Yeah! Oh! Like that! Give it to me!” Sounds like porn.

Lance frowns. “Fuck, sorry about this. Maybe you should wait here.”

I’m totally fine letting him handle it. From what I saw earlier with Mr. McKnight drinking mouthwash in his saggy underwear, I’m afraid to think what he’s doing in the living room while watching porn. I wait in the entryway.

The sound suddenly cuts off mid-squeal. Then, “Hey! Give me that! I wasn’t finished with it!” Mr. McKnight grumbles drunkenly.

“You are now.”

Splattering sound of liquid gurgling down the kitchen sink.

“Fucking waste of good whiskey,” Mr. McKnight grumbles from the living room.

“Fucking waste of a good life,” Lance grunts from the kitchen. His boots thud and he walks into the entryway. “Maybe you should go home.”

“I don’t mind.”

“You sure?”

“Remember my mom? At least here she won’t be yelling at me.”

“It won’t be pretty.”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He strokes the side of my head and sighs. “Are you sure? We might be up all night dealing with his shit.”

“Yes, Lance. Yes.”

He smiles at me. Not his devil’s grin. Something else. The opposite. “Thanks.”

“One thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Is your dad, um, dressed?”

Lance snorts, “Yeah. He’s dressed. Was when I came in.”

I heave a sigh of relief. “Okay, good.”

In the living room, I discover dressed means he’s wearing only jeans. At least he’s not, you know, hanging out. There’s a stack of porno DVDs on the floor next to a dusty old DVD player. Yes it’s weird. But I agreed to stay. When Lance sees me looking at the DVD cases, he dumps them in one of the many moving boxes still in the living room.

For the next two hours, we sit on the couch watching reruns of American Chopper. Lance sits between me and his dad.

At one point, I ask Lance if I can rinse in his shower because my boobs are really itchy from the caramel and whipped cream.

He leads me to his hall bathroom, which is the exact mirror image of my bathroom. Except it’s completely empty. A single white towel hangs rumpled on the rack.

Lance winces, “I don’t have any clean towels. But you can use mine.” He pulls it off the rack and folds it into a wrinkled square. “Good as new.” He looks apologetic. “It’s all I have. Unless you want my dad’s.”

“No! I mean, yours is fine.” I smile.

“I’ll turn the water on for you. It’s hard to set it so it’s not burning or freezing.” After it warms up, he gestures into the shower.

I smile coyly, “Are you going to join me?”

His face sinks. “I have to babysit my dad.”

“Right.”

He closes the door behind him when he leaves.

I strip and rinse. After, I grab Lance’s towel and inhale deeply. So good.

I get dressed but leave my bra off. Should I wash it and leave it hanging on the shower or wait until tomorrow? I’ll wait. I don’t feel that familiar here.

I return to the living room, my arms folded across my polo shirt. I’m afraid Mr. McKnight will stare if he sees my nipples.

He never notices me. He just barks at the screen continuously, making all kinds of critical comments about the guys on American Chopper and the shoddy custom work they’re doing to the chopped motorcycles. Tonight, he’s an angry drunk. He wasn’t at the pool party. That’s weird.

“That’s not how you run a bead!” Mr. McKnight grumbles while one of the guys on the show welds a motorcycle part. “Guy doesn’t know shit about stick welding. His drag angle is too steep. The slag is going right back into his weld puddle. That weld is gonna be full of slag holes. Put any pressure on that bracket and you’ll crack it clean off.”

“Instead of bitching about it,” Lance says, “Maybe you need to open up a shop here in the Valley. Give you something to do other than sit around and get fat and stupid.”

Mr. McKnight just grunts. Eventually, the comments fade to snores.

“Time for bed,” Lance whispers. “Wanna help me with the grumbler?”

I smile, “Sure.”

Lance grabs his father by one wrist and slings an arm over his shoulders. “If I trip, you catch both of us.”

“I can’t do that!”

He winks and carries his Dad to the master bedroom that is the mirror image of Mom’s bedroom. Instead of all of Mom’s frilly decor, all there is is an air mattress with a rumpled sheet hanging half off and moving boxes. I don’t know why I was worried about Mom and Mr. McKnight getting together. She’ll probably never speak to him again. Even if she does, I think once she gets to know him, he’ll scare her off anyway. It’s sad, actually.

I rush past Lance and straighten the sheet on the bed.

“Thanks,” he says as he lays his dad on the air mattress, which flops up at the corners before settling.

“Why did you let her go?” Mr. McKnight mumbles sleepily. “You never should have let her…”

Lance freezes, his eyes alarmed.

“What is he talking about?”

“Nothing,” Lance says, nervous. “Help me with the sheet.” He picks up a wadded top sheet and we tuck his Dad in.

“You shouldn’t have…” Mr. McKnight sighs, “let… her…”

Lance’s face bunches for a second with distress. He turns toward the door. “Out. He needs his beauty rest.” He’s hiding something.

I don’t want to pry.

When I walk past Lance, a high pitched squeaky fart whistles from his Dad. It’s loud in the silent house. We both laugh.

“We better move before the smell hits us. His whiskey farts are worse than a sewer.”

I stifle a giggle as he closes the door.

I head straight to his bedroom and sit down on his mattress. The curtains are open and the room is lit softly by the orange glow of a nearby streetlight and the LA night sky.

Lance kicks off his boots while staring at me, his face inscrutable but deliciously charming. He squats at my feet and pulls my pink Keds off.

“Pants,” he says.

I unbutton my khakis and help him pull them off. I have my pink Marble Slab polo shirt over my head before he asks and my braless boobs fall right out.

“Whoa,” he chuckles. “Tits.” He stares at them for a while then grins. “Fucking perfect.” He tugs his own shirt off and tosses it aside.

I’m surprised he doesn’t have a hard on in his jeans already because seeing him shirtless makes me leak. Luckily I still have panties on. But he’s nowhere close to trying to take them off. Oh well. Maybe we should just sleep. It’s been a long day.

He unbuttons his jeans and pushes them down with his boxers. His cock grows quickly, lengthening, thickening, standing up, pulsing. He pulls my panties down without asking. I’m drenched before he finishes putting the condom on.

We make love slow and soft and silent. The low hum in my stomach from earlier today fades to nothing. All the stress and fear and guilt are pushed out of my body as Lance pushes in, filling me with his affection.

The moment is perfect.

In the soft amber glow of the LA lights, I fall asleep in his arms.

Chapter 15

CHASTITY

I wake to the sight of Lance staring at me with his sleepy eyes.

It’s morning and the world is quiet.

“You’re gorgeous,” he muses.

With his stubble coming in and his burning eyes, he wins that prize. I roll my eyes.

“You should shower. We have a long day ahead of us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s Monday.”

“So?” Did he forget I got fired? Not that I work Monday mornings, but still.

“So, get up.” He climbs over me and stands, totally naked.

And totally erect.

Geez, that is a total turn on. How can he be thinking of anything other than sex at a time like this? I’m naked too. I pull my heels up to my hips, opening myself. I run my hands across my breasts, squeezing them. Then I slide them down between my legs, sinking my fingers into my collecting wetness, dragging it out to slicken my opening.

He closes his eyes and shakes his head. “What are you doing, Pink?”

The second he says my nickname, I know his effort to resist is useless. “Looking at you. And touching myself.”

“Stop, Pink.”

“Make me.”

“I’m serious. We have a long day.”

“Something is
long
…” I purr, massaging my clit and slide a finger inside me. “Fuck me, Lance. I know you’re dying to.”

His eyes are still closed. His cock jumps high and spasms for several seconds, like he wants to come but can’t. “Fuck,” he hisses and dives for me.