He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty, then another, and tossed the bills at the table. “Get a Plan B as soon as you can. That’s all I ask.”
I glared. He met my gaze with an inscrutable, lonely expression.
“So you don’t want to fuck me when I actually want to fuck you?” I said. It was bait to make him fight me, which in turn was bait to make him stay.
“You don’t want to fuck me, Catherine. And that was never a problem.”
“So what?”
“It is now.”
He left the door open and walked down the hallway. I heard him take the steps, heard him drag his keys off the table, and his helmet, and then he was gone.
* * *
Tom and I didn’t talk for a long time. It was nearing the end of February and I was still sorting myself out. Since the beginning of the month I had been applying to new jobs, trying to find something that made sense and would look good on a resume, without a single response. Time, I kept telling myself, all it takes is time.
Bobby called every day. I didn’t pick up the phone. I knew that if I did I would just yell at him, and he would yell at me, and I was exhausted just thinking about it. I guess, technically, we were still together.
But really, we’d been broken for a long time. It seems a little ridiculous that it took me giving another man a blowjob on the phone to figure that out. Better late than never.
Time. Without Tom’s bi-weekly visitations to look forward to the days ground on. I didn’t stop hitting the gym, but I never saw him there. Allison’s acting dreams weren’t panning out like she’d hoped and so we became gym bunnies again, getting smoothies afterward, talking about guys, work, and other parts of the daily grind. I didn’t tell her about Bobby, or Tom. I tried not to think about it.
I’d saved up enough from our contract to make a down payment on an apartment. If I kept the secretary job I could scrimp by. It wouldn’t be a comfortable existence but the few grand would act as a nice buffer while I continued my job search. If that was really what I wanted to do.
I hated to admit it, but without Tom’s bi-weekly visitations I lost a little bit of color in my world. In the beginning, I was afraid of him and afraid of what I was doing to myself. Towards the middle, I saw it as a job, as an enjoyable job, but a kind of employment (not a career or a calling, certainly) nonetheless. By the end… I’ll be honest, I missed him. I missed his kisses, and I missed his loud, stupid motorcycle. I didn’t miss the mystery, because I realized I’d wanted to know more a long time ago.
The orgasms were rough to lose, too.
I tried not to concentrate on that, tried to keep myself in reality. I was at home, it was nearly March, and I was staring at several browser windows of job applications and graduate school websites and trying to figure out if it was weird that Tom had just disappeared from my life. I could call him whenever I wanted, but I didn’t know if he’d pick up. I didn’t know where he lived. I couldn’t find him online. He was like some tricky phantom who’d blown in with the season and blown away, sad and strange. But Tom was more than a ghost. He’d been flesh and blood, hard, never mean, rough and gentle.
It bothered me that I missed him, because I didn’t know if I missed him because I missed him, if I missed him because it was over with Bobby, if I really missed Bobby, or if my life was just directionless and I was looking for anything halfway decent to prop me up. It was an uncomfortable position to be in.
When the doorbell rang midday on a weekend when my parents were gone, I left the table where I’d been surfing for collegiate salvation and answered it, unceremoniously, remembering when I’d once dared to open this door in nothing but a stupid little apron and a smile.
I’m not sure what I expected, who I expected, but Bobby fuming at the door, his perfect hair scattered every which way by the wind, his face red and windblown, as if he’d run all the way here from Michigan, no, that wasn’t it. He looked mad and disheveled. And yet inside I had no fear. I had no patience either. It actually took a concentrated effort for me not to slam the door in his face before he started to speak. I didn’t want to see him, talk to him, and for the first time it was not because I was mad at him but because I had my mind on more pressing things.
But talk he did. “Katie,” he said, “listen to me.”
I set my hand on my hip. My other hand slid up the door. Would it make him leave any faster if I told him I’d invited Tom in, from just where he was standing, to undress me, lick me, suck me and then fuck me, all while I was conflicted about cheating on him and orgasming anyway? That would have been cruel.
But I did feel a little cruel. More than that, however, I felt horny. I wanted Tom, obviously, but Tom and I might not ever see each other again. And I wanted to give a little of this cruelty back.
While Bobby continued to sputter about whatever I was supposed to be listening to, I held up my finger to his mouth. “Shh, baby,” I said. “Come here.” Confused, Bobby stumbled into my arms. I wrapped myself around him and pressed hard into his chest. He could feel I wasn’t wearing a bra.
“Katie?” he said.
I slid my lips against the ridges in his ear. “Let’s make it all better,” I said. I licked his earlobe, the way Tom did mine, savoring its fuzzy little bumps and edge. Bobby groaned into my shoulder and soon he had my warm pussy grinding against his crotch. The loose gym shorts were perfect for that. I couldn’t wear any panties lately, I was getting far too wet. So when I lifted my leg and rolled myself into Bobby, he could feel me, feel my cunt.
“You…” he started. “You fucked some other guy.”
“Didn’t you fuck Sara?” I whispered into his ear. I continued to grind against him with the door to the neighborhood wide open.
“No,” he said.
I rolled my tits over his chest. Thinking that might not be subtle enough, I pulled my shirt up over my breasts and rolled my bare nipples against his. “Don’t lie to me, baby.”
He let out another groan. He’d begun to grind against me, edging in to the house. “I’m sorry, Katie. I’m so sorry. We were drunk. It was- it was a mistake.”
“Shh, I know,” I said. “I just wanted to make you mad.”
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You just get me so horny,” I lied. “Come on, baby, let’s kiss and make up.” I pried myself off him and circled around him – like a shark, I thought. I took the door and shut it solidly, locking it. Then I took his hand and led him to the couch.
“When do your parents get home?”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said.
“Katie- I don’t understand.”
I pulled my shirt over my chest and threw it on the ground. Without much movement at all, I slid the shorts off my hips. So I was naked before him. And wet. And maybe, if Tom was right about anything, perfect.
“Stop talking,” I said.
“Baby,” said Bobby. “Oh, baby. I missed you.”
“Yeah?” I said. I came at him, pushed him to the couch. I helped him unbuckle his belt and drag his pants down to his knees. His big cock was stuck in his boxers, making a wet tent. I lovingly rolled those down until his cock was free. Then I swung my legs over him and took him in my hands. He let out another pained moan. “You didn’t cheat on me while you were away, did you?” I asked.
“Ah…” he said. I worked his cock back and forth between my palms. He was still dressed from the waist up, in his shirt and jacket. His head knocked against the back of the couch and he stared at the ceiling, eyes glazed over.
“You can tell me, baby. Let’s be honest with each other. I don’t want any more secrets. I’m going to be a good girlfriend from now on. I’m going to take care of you.”
“Yeah…?” he said. His voice sounded like it was coming from a far off place. Maybe it was near where Tom and I went off to, when he took control.
I held Bobby’s cock upright and lifted myself up on my knees. I pressed the cockhead, wet with Bobby’s precum, against the slit of my hungry pussy. And I gasped. And I sat down on him. His naked cock pierced me and there was no pretending when I arched back my neck and moaned. It felt good to be filled, and Bobby’s cock gave a thick, welcoming pulse in reply.
Bobby’s hands slid around my waist. He pushed, to try to get me on my back. But I squeezed his thighs with my own and remained upright. I dug my nails into his shoulders and rose up, then slammed down. His hands tried to get me on my back again, but drifted lower with each of my muscular squeezes, until he was merely cradling my ass, waiting for me to decide when his cock went deeper.
I rubbed my tits into Bobby’s face. “You can tell me, baby. Tell me all the little sluts you fucked.”
“No, baby,” he said. “Let’s start over.”
“Yeah?” I groaned. “You want to start over, baby?” He tried to thrust up into me, but I held him at bay with my strong abdominals. Then I lowered myself, when I felt like it. I attacked his mouth with mine. Our tongues were on each other, as if for the first time. In a way, we were doing this for the first time.
I pulled his hands off my ass and made him cup my breasts. “Are you going to miss these, when I’m gone?” I asked.
He squeezed me – too hard, but that was good. “Yes,” he groaned. He tilted his head back again. I was plunging him in and out of me faster now, and his hips tried to settle me into another rhythm. “Katie,” he groaned, “Katie, slow down.”
“You can do it,” I cooed to him. “I believe in you. I trust you.” I placed my hands over the backs of his hands and made him squeeze me again. He squeezed me, but not like he was checking for ripeness, not like he coveted them or delighted in the way their smoothness tingled to his touch. He felt them up, paying no attention to my nipples. It was good enough to get me off, if he lasted…
I worked myself harder on his cock. There was a climax somewhere deep inside me, a little whisper of one, and all I wanted was to get off. No, that’s a lie too. I wanted Bobby to know how lucky he used to be.
I slid my fingers into his hair and pulled. He made a face. “Ow. Katie, not so rough.”
“You don’t like it rough, baby?”
“Yeah, just not so hard.”
I pulled my fingers out of his hair to caress his face. “My handsome man, I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry, baby.” I was doing all the work, rolling his cock up and down the front of my uterus. Bobby didn’t know how to match my rhythm, and he was more or less just a prop in my one woman show. What would Tom do? Would he start tickling me? Would he reach out for my face and kiss me? Would he let me expend my energy on fucking him until I was too tired to fight, and then gently pick me up and fuck me tenderly against the wall?