Thou Shalt Not (12 page)

“I want you inside me,” she said.

I leaned back, my dick hard and throbbing and ready for her. She put her hands on my shoulders and slid down onto me slowly.

“Fuuuuck,” she moaned as she took me completely inside her. She was breathing through her mouth, and the tip of her tongue was pressed against her top lip. I pulled her to me so I could suck on her tongue. Then I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her up until right before I was about to slip out. I dropped her back down and she slid over the length of me. Each time I lowered her back down, I thrust up hard.

Then she took over, leaning forward and grinding her body into mine, taking me in as deep as she could. Her blonde hair danced across my chest. I wound my fingers in it, and I frantically took her breasts into my mouth, tasting salty sweat on her nipples.

She was riding me so sensually, I kept my eyes half open to watch her. She made two circles with her hips then thrust her pelvis forward, before repeating the process. Her breasts bounced, her body was shiny with sweat, and she was biting her bottom lip. God. She was so sexy. I used my free hand to find her, and my fingers rubbed her as she rode me.

“Oh, god,” she said loudly. “Don’t stop. That feels so good.”

She was slippery, but I rubbed and she rode, and then her whole body shuddered and she let out a loud, “Oh, fuuuuuuck,” before throwing her head back.

As soon as she did this I stood up, still inside of her, and lowered her onto the carpet. She lay back on the floor and opened her legs up, giving my body room to thrust deeply into her.

“Come inside me,” she said into my neck.

I took both of her legs and lifted them up, placing them over my shoulders. I leaned forward onto her thighs and began thrusting hard
inside her wet pussy.

I was deep inside of her, and I pulled her legs together making her even tighter.

I could feel it coming quickly, I lowered her legs back down to the ground and leaned forward, hooking my arms up under hers and gripping onto her shoulders. She wrapped her legs around my back, and pulled me in hard.

This time I was the one loudly saying, “Oh, fuck,” as I came inside of her.

She closed her eyes and smiled as I came, pulling me more tightly into her until I was completely finished. Her legs lowered and I slid back and out of her body.

“Come here,” she said, sitting up. Her breasts were glistening with sweat, and her hair was damp.

She pulled me close and kissed me slowly. Her lips were salty, like the rest of her had been, and we took our time tasting each other.

We were both on our knees, naked and kissing in the living room. She broke off the kiss and leaned to the side on her elbows. Her right hand took hold of my semi-erect penis and she took me into her mouth once more.

“I love the way I taste,” she smiled, when she had finished cleaning me up. I grinned, shaking my head.

“I love it when you give yourself a compliment.”

I lay back onto the floor and she nestled in next to me on my right side. My arm wrapped around her and pulled her toward me tightly, her right breast resting against my chest. I kissed the top of her head. “I love the way you taste too. You have a hazelnut flavor.”

“
What?”
She leaned up to look at my face, and I tickled her until she squealed and settled back down.

“Hazelnut,” she repeated. I could feel her shaking her head. “You know I drink that in my coffee every day.”
“Well, there you go,” I smiled. “Hazelnut Holly.”

She bit my chest.

We stayed there on the floor, neither of us saying anything, both of us still naked and covered in sweat.

“We should have turned that fan on before we started,” she said, laughing. The fan was directly above us, resting as comfortably as we were.

“I didn’t know I was getting jumped the second I walked in,” I said. “You didn’t give me time to turn it on.”

“I’ll have to think further ahead next time,” she replied.

I smiled, even though she couldn’t see it, and tilted my head down so I could see her face.

“Are you saying we get to do this again sometime?” I asked.

“I’m thinking we should probably schedule something like this in, yeah.”

“I could probably live with that.”

Her right hand rubbed against my chest, and she let it travel all the way down to my hips.

“How was the funeral?” she asked.

“It was really nice. I mean, as far as funerals go.”

“Were you okay?”

These were the kinds of conversations we normally avoided. When we had dated, talking about feelings and frustrations had been off-limits. We kept ourselves busy with other things, and when we had issues to discuss, we avoided them. Needless to say, that was one of the reasons it didn’t work between us.

I am not by nature someone who wants to delve into my feelings. It’s just not something I was used to doing, something I was comfortable with. That had always been the case, even while I was married to Carrie. Sometimes, she would ask me things, try to probe into my life and my mind, but I would shut down. Or change the subject. That was my M.O. with Holly, the topic of Carrie had never come up, and I had never broached the topic of her failed engagement before she had met me. I had grown accustomed to keeping those things under wraps.

“Yeah, I was.”

“Really, Luke? I know it had to have been hard for you.”

I don’t know if it was because my body was exhausted from sex that I let my guard down, lowered my walls, but I could feel myself about to open up to her.

“I thought it would be tough. I thought it would be harder than the last few days, but it was easier. I was more relaxed. I don’t even know why.”

“That’s really good to hear,” she said, squeezing me. “What was she like?”

I could hear hesitancy in her voice, and I could tell she was mentally wrestling with whether she should have asked me at all.

“Robin?”

“Yeah.”

I told her all about our friendship. I told her the Dum-Dum story, which I had never mentioned to her. All she had known beforehand was that we had been close, but I had never really shared why. I knew she had picked up bits and pieces on her own, but this was the first time I had opened up about her.

“She sounds like a pretty amazing woman.”

“Yeah, she really was. She and Walt were a huge support for me through...some pretty bad times.”

There was a pause. Then she asked, “When your wife died?”

The hesitation and mind-wrestling was back, but it surprised me that for once I didn’t mind her asking.

“Yeah, when she died. I don’t know what I would have done if it hadn’t been for them.”

“I’m glad they were there for you. That you had somebody.”

“Yeah.”

“I wish I could have met her.”

I wasn’t sure which “her” she was referring to, but I didn’t ask.

I leaned up and rolled to my right, which in turn rolled her onto her back on the carpet. I put my left hand along the side of her face and ran it back into her hair.

“I know I was probably a miserable guy to be around this weekend,” I said, looking into her pale blue eyes. “But, I just wanted to say thank you. For putting up with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she said softly.

“Maybe, but I am really glad you were here with me. It meant a lot to me.”

I leaned in and kissed her once more, a kiss that convinced me even more strongly that our friends with benefits status was very much at risk of changing, if it hadn’t already.

Holly got up to shower, and as much as I wanted to join her in there, I thought it was best to let her go at it alone. I promised her we would go eat somewhere, and showering together most certainly would have led to more sex, which would have meant dinner would be skipped.

I was walking around the kitchen in my boxers and decided I should try a couple of spoonfuls of April’s posole. I spooned a little bit out into a small bowl and popped the bowl into the microwave.

Unfortunately, as I looked around the fridge, I knew I wouldn’t be able to find any cabbage to add to it. I had oregano, but without the cabbage I wasn’t sure I wanted to use it.

“You can’t eat posole without cabbage,” I said to myself out loud. There was really no way April could have known this, but I didn’t mind. I just couldn’t believe she had made it in the first place.

I pulled the bowl out of the microwave, spooned up some beef and hominy and broth, and tasted. My eyes lit up, and my brain took me straight back to being a seven-year-old boy sitting at my Mexican grandmother’s kitchen table.

“Oh my god,” I actually said out loud.

My mom had been Hispanic, which accounted for my dark hair and relatively tan appearance. Her mother had been straight from Mexico, and on the few times we visited her, she always wowed my taste buds with some new dish I of course knew nothing about. My mom never cooked, so trips to my grandmother’s were basically the entirety of the home-cooked meals I had growing up.

I took another bite, then another, thinking that perhaps it wasn’t as good as I initially thought, that maybe I was just shocked to be eating a food I hadn’t eaten in years. But each bite got better, and in less than a minute the bowl was empty. I was tempted to get more out and fill up my bowl completely, but then I would have had no appetite for going out to eat with Holly. For a second, I contemplated saying, “Fuck it” and going for the bowl anyway.

Instead I placed the bowl in the sink, ran some water into it, and went into the living room to retrieve my cell phone out of my pocket. I had the urge to tell April that she had just transported me back twenty-plus years.

It’s already after five
, I thought to myself.
You can just tell her tomorrow since you are going back tomorrow.

I knew this was probably the most appropriate thing to do, but I wanted to text her anyway. Texting had the ability to add a strange level of closeness between people, freed them up to maybe say things that in person would have made them nervous. The power of electronic communication gave people boldness, and I was just like everyone else.

I knew her husband would be at the stadium, so it wasn’t like he would see a text from a strange man and flip out on her. Although, I was certain he was the type of man who would flip out on her, and probably had many times.

I wanted to have a conversation with her, more than just a one text “thank you, it was amazing” kind of thing.

So, I sent her a text that read:
So, I just tried the posole...

I knew dangling it out there like that might immediately make her think I didn’t approve, which would fill her with relief when I told her that it was actually one of the best things I had ever eaten.

...And?

I couldn’t help but notice how quickly she responded. I was starting to think that maybe she didn’t have a lot of adult interaction in her life.

It was awful, wasn’t it?

Truthfully, it was one of the best things I have ever eaten.

You better not be bullshitting me.

I actually couldn’t believe she had used the word “bullshitting.” It was definitely not Lakefront appropriate.

I’m so sorry,
she replied back, once again as if reading my mind.
That slipped.

Haha. Don’t worry ;-)
Then I added,
And no, I’m not bullshitting you :-)

Fucking emoticons. What was I, a twelve-year-old girl?

You actually liked it?

Yes, I actually liked it. Loved it, to be exact.

Wow, I am so relieved. Phew!

It took me back to being a kid sitting in my Mexican grandma’s kitchen.

Hopefully she was a good cook!

She was the best.

I think you are just being sweet, but thank you. I am really glad you liked it.

This statement could be responded to in two very different ways. I could simply say “Thanks” and make it clear that our conversation was basically over. Or I could try baiting her into talking more to me. If she didn’t want to, she would just ignore my attempt and let the conversation end. So, I threw out the line to see if she would bite.

No, thank you for making it. I might just have to order more once I finish this batch.

And I waited for a response. This one took a little longer to receive than the others.

Maybe I’ll start a posole catering service :-)

She bit!

Well, you would definitely have one consistent customer.

Not my husband though, unfortunately. :-/

At least now I didn’t feel so bad about my juvenile emoticon usage with her using them just as much.

What! He didn’t like it?

I knew he was probably an asshole, but an asshole with no taste in food? God, I hated this bastard even more. How could he possibly not like the masterpiece his wife created?

No. He said it just wasn’t for him
.

Well, I don’t know him, but now I know he’s a little crazy! :-)

I realized after I hit send that calling her husband, the father of her children,
crazy
was probably not my best move.