The Bad Boy Next Door: Lance & Chastity (9 page)

Grunting from Lance’s backyard catches my attention.

I edge my way toward the fence.

The grunting continues.

I try to peek through the slits between the fence boards, but all I see is shrubs. I could start hopping to get a view over the fence and the tall shrubs, but I can imagine Mom yelling at me to stop snooping.

More grunting. It sort of sounds like Lance. But I can’t be sure.

“Fuck yeah.”
Grunt
. “That’s it, bitch. Just like that.”
Grunt
.

My eyes goggle.

He’s got to be kidding.

“Fuuuuuck yeaaaaaah.”

Is he having sex with someone? In his backyard? Hours after forcing his way into my bedroom?

This is ridiculous!

I’m going to kill him!

I work my way toward the fence, pretending to skim the pool. I still can’t see ship through the fence and the shrubs. I move toward the side of the house so Mom can’t see me unless she comes outside. Then I hop. I can’t get enough height with the skimmer in hand, so I lay it down quietly on the patio and hop again.

All I see is the top of Lance’s head and his bare shoulders. I hop again. His muscles flex impressively. Another hop. His body goes up and down rhythmically. So does mine, but only because I keep hopping like a pogo stick. I must look ridiculous.

“Fuck yeah,” he hisses.

He is definitely having sex with someone but I can’t see who. Up, down. Up, down.

I’m enraged. I have to know who he’s with.

I try to get a better look. Hop. Hop. Hop.

I’m also a little bit turned on, which enrages me further.

So I stop hopping and grab the skimmer and scoop a wad of wet leaves from the pool and throw them over the fence at Lance in a wet lump.

“What the fuck?” he blurts.

Direct hit! I throw another netful of leaves. Serves him right.

“Hey!” A second later, his head hops above the fence between two shrubs. “Chastity?”
hop
“Is that you?”
hop
.

I almost laugh at how stupid he looks hopping up and down. But I’m too mad to laugh. “Yeah it’s me.” I scoop up more leaves and time my fling so it hits him in the face on the next hop.
Smack!
“Jerk!” Still too mad to laugh.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“What the frick are
you
doing?” I’ve got another net load ready, holding the pool skimmer like a Valkyrie holds a spear before charging into battle.

Two shrubs suddenly shake above the fence like someone is climbing up them. Lance’s face appears between them a second later.

I smack him in the face with the net. One wet leaf sticks to his face.

He stays where he is, eyes clamped shut, and spits the wet leaf off his mouth before glaring at me. “Are you insane?”

Why does he have to be so gorgeous? “No, but you are!” I circle around with the skimmer and dip it in the pool for another assault.

“Stop!”

“You stop!” I whip the skimmer around.

He drops from view as water flings over the fence, missing him. “You are crazy! You know that? Can you tell me what the fuck is going on?!”

“What’s her name?” I’ve got the skimmer at the ready again, but I’m out of leaves.

“Whose name?”

“The girl you’re having sex with!”

“What?!”

“I heard you! ‘Frick yeah! That’s it, b-word! Just like that! Frick, frick, frick!’.”

He laughs. It’s a wonderful sound that makes me hate him more. “You think I was having sex with someone in my backyard just now?”

“I know you were! I saw you!”

“No you didn’t,” he says calmly.

“Did too!”

“I wasn’t. I promise.” He sounds sincere.

“Then what were you doing?” I sound hurt and angry.

“Come over and I’ll show you,” he says calmly.

“I’m not coming over. Ever.”

“Come over. Now.”

Why does that make me pause? It shouldn’t. It should make me look for something else to throw at him. “Fine,” I huff and put the skimmer down beside the house.

“Meet me at the gate.”

I walk along between the fence and the house and out my gate to the front yard.

Lance stands holding his gate open. He’s shirtless and wearing nothing but black board shorts. Every inch of his skin is golden brown and glistening with sweat in the sun. Every single muscle is visible. Like, all eight hundred of them.

I would lick the sweat off of each one of those muscles if not for the fact I want nothing to do with philandering Lance ever again.

“After you,” he nods into his yard.

I squeeze past him, determined not to touch any of his gorgeous, I mean gross, muscles.

“Have a look around. There’s nobody here but me.”

No one on the lawn. I check the other side of his house. No one there either. Just dirt along the fence. “So what were you doing? Pushups?” As if. A guy like Lance doesn’t have to strain that hard to do pushups. He can probably do them for hours. While having sex with some random b-word. Yeah, there’s a girl around here somewhere. I just have to find her.

“No, not pushups. Check this out.” He kneels down on the grass and sets his hands in front of him like he’s about to do a pushup. He slowly and smoothly extends his legs behind him, only they’re not resting on the ground. They float a foot in the air. In fact, his entire body floats parallel to the ground, except for his hands, which hold everything up.

“How do you do that?” I marvel.

He doesn’t answer. He just floats there, holding the pose. Then he does several pushups, still floating. His arms bulge and the veins pop like they’re going to burst.

“Wow,” I giggle. “That’s amazing.” It’s also a total turn on.

“And fucking hard,” he grunts. After the last pushup, he slowly tucks his knees back to his chest without touching his toes to the ground, then stands up. His entire chest is bright red and the muscles are pumped. “That’s what I was doing back here. It’s called a planche pushup.”

“A what?”

“Planche. It’s a gymnastics thing. Great workout.”

“That is so cool. Can you do it again?”

“Sure,” he grins and kneels down and does it again.

Although I wanted an excuse to see his muscles flex and watch his tattoos dance over them, it’s also fascinating to watch. Who doesn’t like hardbodies doing gymnastics? He does more pushups. He’s grunting and shaking again and all I can think about is him grunting and shaking on top of me. While he’s inside me. I’m getting wet. I better stop watching.

He stands up. “Had enough?”

“Mmmm, can you do it once more?”

He smirks, “Fuck off. You do it.”

“Can you show me how?”

“Can you do a push up?”

“I can do twenty-five guy push ups.”

He raises his eyebrows, impressed. “That’s not bad. But guy push ups are here,” he holds his hand level with his waist, “and planche pushups are up here,” he lifts his hand above his head. “You have to work up to it.”

“Okay.”

“Are you serious?”

“You can be my trainer.” Do I sound desperate? I hope not.

His slow devil’s grin tugs at his lips. “It’ll be a lot of
hard
work.”

“I can handle it.”

“You’ll have to do everything I say. No questions and no arguing.”

“Not a problem. You met my mom. I’m used to following orders.”

“This is a different kind of order.”

“Oh? What kind?”

His eyes glimmer wickedly. “My kind.”

“I told you I can handle it.” What am I agreeing to? I don’t care. As long as he has his shirt off, I’ll agree to anything.

“Be careful what you wish for,” he drawls, his eyes afire.

“Chastity! I thought you were cleaning the pool!” Mom hollers from the other side of the fence. “Chastity?! Where did you go? You left the skimmer out! It belongs in the garage!”

I don’t want her knowing I’m back here with Lance. With his shirt off. Even if I am eighteen. I whisper to him, “Come to my pool party tonight.”

“You’re having a party?”

“In my backyard. It’s my birthday.”

“Nice. Turning nineteen?”

“Ummm…” I consider lying but I’ve done enough of that already. “Nope. Eighteen.” I grin innocently.

He narrows his eyes. “Yesterday you told me you were already eighteen.”

“I am today,” I grin. “As of twelve hours ago.”

“Seriously?” He arches a doubtful brow.

“Yes. I’m eighteen.”

His devil’s grin returns and he snickers, “You dirty little liar.”

“I’m full of surprises.”

“Gimme your phone number. I might be late.”

My heart hammers. He wants my phone number! “Where’s your phone. I’ll put it in for you.”

“That’s what she said,” Lance grins.

“What?”

“Just tell me your number. I’ll remember it.”

“Chastity!” Mom shouts. “Are you out here?! Where did that girl go?”

I tell Lance my number and he repeats it back to me. “Gotta go!” I whisper and jog out front. When I’m in my own backyard, Mom is staring at me, hands on hips.

“Where have you been, Chastity? We have a thousand things left to do.”

“I was in the garage. Sorry.”

I’m lying left and right again, aren’t I?

I smile to myself. It’s just white lies.

It’s not like I’m killing anybody.

Slow and unnoticed is the slippery slope into sin…

++++8++++

CHASTITY

“I have to go to the bathroom.” I slide past Mom.

“You have to clean the pool.”

“It is clean.” Doesn’t she have eyes? I threw all the leaves at Lance.

Inside the house, I pass my room on the way to the bathroom and my phone beeps on my desk. I spin on the ball of my foot smiling from ear to ear and grab my phone before locking myself in the bathroom.

I turn on the fan for privacy, but I’m still standing up with my shorts on. Sure enough, Lance texted me.

Him:
It’s Lance. Have you seen my dad today?

Me:
He’s here hanging with my mom.

Him:
No shit?

Me:
Yes ship.

Him:
Lolls. Ship. What time is the party again?

Me:
8. Wear a suit.

Him:
Three piece or swim?

Me:
Swim, duh.

Him:
You gonna wear that pink bikini you were hiding under your clothes yesty?

Me:
Wouldn’t you like to know.

Him:
I can wait. But it’ll be HARD…

Me:
Dirty boy.

Him.
The more you tease me, the HARDER I’m gonna go on you when you start training.

Blushing, I smile from ear to ear and drop my phone to my side. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. I giggle to myself.

Me:
You can go as HARD as you want.

Him:
You keep this UP and I’m COMING next door to FUCK the shit out of you.

I type out
Our parents are here
but the word Our in connection with the word parents freaks me out so I delete it and text:
Later.

Him:
Promise?

I remember the box of three Lifestyle condoms that is now hidden in the bottom of my desk drawer. Something tells me I’m going to use them. Soon. My hands shake so bad I can barely type my reply:
If you’re good.

Him:
What if I’m bad? Cuz that’s all I know.

My chest flutters. I’m shivering from head to toe and my wetness is pooling in my panties. I text:
I can be bad too.

Him:
Prove it.

Me:
How?

Him:
Send me video of your pussy. Because I know it’s wet right now.

My eyes goggle and I press my phone against my chest. How does he know?

Him:
Send it.

I can’t do that! Can I?

Him:
I’m waiting.

My index finger quivers as I slide through my apps to the video camera.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

I nearly have a heart attack.

“Chastity! You left the skimmer out by the side of the house!” Mom barks. “Don’t forget to put it away in the garage.”

“Okay! I’ll do it! Can’t I poop in peace?” I’m about to have a heart attack in here.

“Goodness. Don’t forget to clean up your language after you finish with the pool.” Her voice fades as she walks away from the bathroom door.

Him:
I knew you’d chicken out.

Me:
Oh yeah?

I unsnap my shorts and push them and my panties to my knees. The camera is set to face me, so I watch the screen as I frame a close up of my lady parts. Here goes nothing. I thumb the record button and it glows red.

I dip my middle finger inside myself, drawing out my wetness, sliding it around on my folds. I circle my clitoris several times. I’m snickering to myself when I thumb the stop button.

Should I really send this?

I should.

But first I text:
this isn’t me.

I send the video.

And wait.

My heart is hammering again.

Did he get it? Did I send it to the wrong number? Oh, geez! I double check that yes, I sent it to Lance. Why isn’t he responding? Is he grossed out? No, he doesn’t seem like the type. Is he forwarding it to his entire list of contacts with my name and address below it? No, he wouldn’t do that. Would he?

I wait another three minutes. I’m freaking out.

“Chastity! How long does it take you to finish?” Mom hollers.

“Coming! I mean, almost done!” Geez. I hastily wipe myself clean and don’t even pee. I pull my shorts up and button them.

My phone flashes on the counter. Another text.

Him:
I’m done.

Done? My heart locks. As in, done with me? Did I gross him out? Scare him off? Oh, ship! What did I do?

A blank message comes in from Lance with an attachment.

It’s a video.

Oh, no.

Do I even want to know what’s on it? What if it’s something that’ll get me in trouble?

Better to know now than wonder all day.

I play it.

A close up of a big hand stroking an engorged penis. It might be Lance’s, but it might not. It was dark in my room last night so I didn’t get that good a look at his.

Grunting from the video.

The penis swells, the head red.