The Sex Education of M.E. (22 page)

In reply I asked, “Have you ever been in the MacAllister house?”

“Their children were older,” she replied, shaking her head. “I heard it’s unusually laid out.”

“I’d love to show it to you,” I offered, and it was the truth. I hadn’t ever brought women to my brother’s apartment, my parents’ old home where we lived until recently, or to the new house. I hadn’t wanted to share the personal side of me, until now. I was too vulnerable. The whole Janice experience gutted me as an impressionable young man and I refused to place myself in a similar situation, especially with the added risk of children involved. The only love I had was for my children, until now.

Following my lead, Emme entered through the side door. The house was on a narrow piece of property, set the long way; meaning, it was a deep structure with a small front entrance and a larger one on the side of the home. The kitchen had been modernized, although it was long and galley-like. The dining room was next to this unique kitchen space and the official center of the home. With a sharp gable roof line, and its dark brick, it looked like something from an ancient time. The interior design appeared as if the original architect was uncertain which direction he intended to take. Additions and updates seamlessly connected the quirky layout. This neighborhood had a slightly eclectic feel to it, anyway. The houses weren’t rows upon rows of Chicago bungalows, like my parents’ old neighborhood. There was more space between houses, and more diversity in structures.

“We don’t have much furniture yet. I’m waiting for Cassie to pick some things out for me.” The living room was in the front, the family space in the back overlooking the pool.

“It isn’t legal to have an in-ground pool in Chicago anymore. Any pool built after 1979 was considered an ornamental pond, and could be no deeper than five feet. The pool was grandfathered into this property and it was one of the buying points for me.” I rambled my pool history lesson to fill the silence between us.

“I wanted something that would keep my children coming home, even if we could only use it three months of the year. More so, I hoped to keep Jake out of trouble My old neighborhood held too many temptations for a teenage boy, especially after the loss of my mother, who helped me tremendously. It was time for a change. Not to mention, I wanted Cassie closer. Her failing grades pulled the trigger on college out of state. Her new, larger bedroom was enticement to return home.” I babbled on.

We paused at the bottom of the stairs, and I hesitated only slightly before leading her upward. The house was old so the stairwell was narrow and steep. Cassie’s room was to the front of the house, Jacob’s to the left over the garage, and mine was in the back. The décor was similar to my room at Marshall’s, blacks and grays. It was a reminder of where we’d been together, and I longed to tug her down on the duvet, to beg her for understanding.

“It looks familiar,” she snipped under her breath, stepping back to the hall. I stepped left to block her retreat.

“Let me explain,” I plead, raising an arm to prevent her running down the stairs. “I don’t share my past because it’s painful. I just wanted it to be us. Only us. No looking back.” I brushed at a loose hair by her cheek. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but it won’t change anything. It won’t take away the hurt, the mistakes, the poor decisions. I can’t change that and it took me a long time to accept that fact. I learned long ago to only look ahead.” My hand cupped her cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“Don’t do this,” she whispered.

“Why?”

“Because I’m weak,” she exhaled, her eyes closing under my touch.

“I want to kiss you.”

“You didn’t before,” she bit.

“Emme, please.” My mouth watered as I drew closer to her lips, my hands framing her face. Her shoulders sagged. A hand tentatively came to my waist. Closing the distance, I took her lips gently with mine. I’d kissed her quickly, harsh and hot in the heat of the moment a week ago, but this moment, I wanted to savor. I wanted to drink in her sigh and swallow her sound. My lips moved over hers, hesitantly exploring. Slowly, I outlined the curve of her bottom lip and sipped the bow of the top. My tongue pressed the seam of our joining and she opened. Lazy, like the love we’d made, our tongues looped around one another, tangling tenderly. She was sweetness and spice, and I wanted more.

My body pressed forward, pinning her to the wall, the steel length of me erect and ready against her lower abdomen. Her hands gripped my sides, bunching up my t-shirt. My mind begged her to remove my clothes.

“What are we doing?” she muttered against my lips which refused to release her.

“It’s called messing around,” I teased, as I redirected her mouth with mine, sucking her tongue into me.

“I don’t want …” I cut her off with another searing kiss. “…to just mess around,” she gasped against my mouth. “I want to get messy with someone.”

“Get messy, with me,” I begged, continuing my attention on those amazing lips. The connection between us was a wick deep within my chest and a fuse to my dick. I was full to bursting, ready to explode, and I wanted her to light the cord.

“I can’t be a fu …” My mouth cut off the words. I didn’t want to hear her label us.

“You aren’t,” I muttered after another deep kiss.

“I can’t be friends with benefits.”

“I want to be more than friends.”

She practically climbed me after that. Her arms wrapped around my neck and she hoisted her body upward, hitching a leg around my hip, drawing me against her. Minus the clothing, I’d be buried inside her. I needed to be inside her, to feel the connection and prove that opening up to her wouldn’t push her away. After all the years it took to find someone like her, I didn’t want to lose her.

Our hallway make-out session was stopped in the nick of time, as I was two seconds from stripping him, and tackling him to the hardwood floor. His son’s voice calling from the lower level was a warning to cool down. We were at a community block party, and there were things to discuss before anymore nakedness occurred. Merek pulled back from me.

“We’ll be right down.” The implication of a
we
was not lost to me, neither was the fact that I hadn’t met his son, and Merek just implied someone was upstairs with him. He brushed back my wayward hair and kissed me one final time before straightening his shirt. He was the epitome of casual sexy in his untucked dress shirt and khaki shorts. His short peppered hair was slightly mussed from my fingers and his smile sparkled to match his eyes. He looked like he’d just gotten away with mischief.

Taking my hand, he guided me down the stairs, but dropped it instantly upon finding his kitchen filled with teenagers, including my own two daughters.

“Mom,” Bree said gleefully, ignorantly blissful of how I appeared. She reached out to hug me. Mitzi stood near a girl that I could only assume was Cassie, as I recognized her from The Square. She was a beautiful girl with eyes matching Merek’s, but she had a slinky young body.

“Mom, this is Cassie.” My daughter had a girl crush on Cassie. She wasn’t into girls like that, but it was obvious she was smitten with the attention from an older girl. Cassie waved shyly at me and reached for a red plastic cup.

“What’s in that?” Merek snapped behind me and Cassie tipped the cup toward him.

“Coke,” she sighed. Merek exhaled.

“Sorry, Cass,” he muttered, but a subtle tension spun through the room.

“Bonfire?” Mitzi suggested pleasantly, and I thanked heaven for such an easy going girl.

“Bonfire,” a young man agreed and he reached above the refrigerator for a box of matches.

“Not too close to the house,” Merek warned.

“Dad, stop being a fireman for five seconds,” the boy scoffed, and I realized as he looked over at his father, this was Jake. Young Merek Elliott stood before me, a mirror image of his father from twenty-five years ago.

“Uncanny, I know,” Merek said, breaking my stare. There wasn’t a trace of anything but Merek in the boy. The teens exited through the side door, and Merek and I remained in the kitchen.

“You okay with this?” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

“Are you?” I laughed, nervously.

“Baptism by fire,” he said, and we laughed together. Taking my hand, he led me out the door.

The blaze lit up the surrounding patio space. The glistening water shimmered within the pool. My mind raced with images of Merek and me naked. Our kiss upstairs wasn’t enough. The barrier had been broken, and I wanted the wall to crumble around him. We sat in silence as the teens around us joked easily, clearly unabashed at two adults present. In many ways, listening to their banter and the freedom of flirtation, I was reminded of my own youth. How innocent and carefree the youth deserve to be, because life gets progressively harder.

I longed to touch Merek’s hand, hold it as if we were young, too, but my own reserve prevented me from reaching out for him. The feel of his lips lingered on mine and I caught him seductively tracing over his bottom lip. His playful eyes often met mine, and if I ever thought I could read minds, this would be the time. He wanted me.

“Come here, I want to show you something.” He stood abruptly and sauntered to a dark corner of his yard near a shed.

“Where am I going?” I laughed.

“Just follow me,” he said, waving his hand like he tempted a child to candy. Once he’d sensed we’d gone far enough, he tugged me forward and I fell against him. Blocked by the shed, he kissed me. Hard. There was desire and longing and a promise of things to come in that kiss. His mouth controlled mine. Lips and tongue colliding. He pressed me into the side of the shed.

“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he sighed against my mouth.

“We can’t do this here,” I mumbled.

The slamming sound of the front gate brought our mini-make out session to an end. Metal against metal startled me out of my reverie of lust and drew my attention to a thin woman who entered the backyard as Merek and I cleared the darkness of the back corner.

“Janice?” Merek choked, dropping my hand, and Cassie’s head spun.

“Mom!” Her voice broke.

“Hey baby,” she purred, stepping closer to the circle of friends. Cassie untangled herself from her Adirondack chair and walked into outstretched arms. Even in the dim light of fire, I saw a stunning woman in her late thirties. Her hair still dark, her body slim like it had never known the struggle of bearing children. She held Cassie tight against her, and then pushed her back to look her up and down. Their figures were remarkably similar. The two could have been sisters instead of mother and daughter.

My eyes drifted to Jake, who hadn’t moved from his spot. He didn’t greet Janice or acknowledge her. His expression was hard, and it matched his father’s. The irritation on his face could have set the delicate fire pit flame to a raging blaze.

“Janice,” Merek commanded, stepping closer to the fire. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard there was a party and I wanted to see the new house.”

Merek stared at his daughter, who had the decency to hang her head.

“It’s a private party,” Merek replied. Janice tossed her hair over her shoulder, nodding toward the active street. “Seems rather public to me.”

“It’s not,” Jake snapped.

“Jacob,” Merek warned. His tone clearly set Jake off, as he abruptly stood and stalked to the house.

“Cassie, why don’t you introduce me to your friends?” Her mother’s overly enthusiastic voice was nails on a chalkboard. Sugar sweet, high-pitched, and too friendly. Initially, I couldn’t move. On second thought, I needed to get out of this awkward situation.

“Merek,” I said lightly, my hand reaching out tentatively for his arm. He bristled when I touched him, staring down at my fingers.

“Merek, shouldn’t you go after Jake?” I offered. His dark eyes lit with sparks as he looked up at mine.

“He’ll be okay.”

“Will you?” I asked, hesitantly.

“And who might you be?” That sugar tone addressed me. “I’m Janice Whittington.” Before me stood a woman of model proportions, extending a well-manicured hand. The only imperfection I noticed was the slight sway to her stance.

“I’m Mary Elizabeth Peters.” Shaking her slender hand, I noted her cold fingers. Her touch was like dangling a dirty dish rag.

“And you’re one of the neighbors?” she implied.

“Yes,” I answered quickly, not feeling the need to further commit details. The woman before me staggered back and Merek reached forward to steady the sway of her body.

“Have you been drinking?” he hissed, drawing closer to her.

“It’s a party, Merek. Lighten up.” Her gaze fell to him and I watched her lick her lips. He turned his face like she slapped him. The tension between him and his ex was so thick I couldn’t decide if it was pure hatred or lusty attraction. My inadequacy hit hard, and I excused myself. I hadn’t made it to the front gate before my waist was encircled and I was tugged against a firm chest.

“Don’t go,” he whispered behind me.

“Merek, there’s clearly an issue here.”

“I’ll get her to leave. Just give me a few minutes.” His lips brushed my neck, sucking lightly. “We need to talk. You and me.” I nodded in agreement. “But let me talk to her first.”