Past Imperfect (10 page)

“I don’t want to put you out of your room.”

“Not a problem. I can sleep almost anywhere. Let me just grab some pajamas and I’ll be out of your way,” I said, heading into the bedroom.

I wasn’t positive, but when I told her I’d stay on the sofa she looked disappointed. Did she want me to make a move on her? Did I
want
to make a move on her? If only I had had a few more beers there’d be no confusion. Even though my standards for screwing a girl were pretty superficial, on rare occasions my dick couldn’t make up his mind. When that happened, beer number six was the tipping point. I got undressed and threw on my pajama pants, grabbed a pillow, and headed to my temporary sleeping quarters. Once in the living room I noticed Becca standing in the exact same spot I had left her in.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Well, goodnight then.”

“Yeah, goodnight.” She hesitated for a second before heading into the bedroom.

So weird.

My sofa and living room were the only things that were clear. The rest of my mind was fuzzy when I first opened my eyes. I didn’t know if what was happening was real or a dream, but either way I was sporting a raging hard on caused by the soft hand stroking my dick. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out the silhouette of a small female kneeling on the floor next to me. It took me a second to remember her name. When I did, the confusion was evident in my voice. “Becca?”

“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she whispered.

“What?”

“It’s just that other than Stephanie I don’t know anyone here. I’ve been so lonely. I could just give you a hand job and nothing more if you want.”

“I need a condom,” I said.

“I’m on birth control.”

“I still need a condom.” There was no way I was going commando in a girl.

I’ve been involved in some weird kinky sex before. Not that being woken up by a female’s hand on me was weird or kinky. It was the fact that this girl seemed scared of her own shadow, so her sudden boldness took me off guard. But I have never wasted a willing chick or a hard dick in my life, and I certainly wasn’t about to start now. I grabbed her wrist, stopping her hand from moving further. I slid my hand under the sofa cushion, feeling around for a condom. I like to have them scattered around the place. You never know when the mood will strike. I found one and quickly rolled it on and then pulled her on top of me. As she straddled me, I lifted my hips slightly so she could slide my pants down. She had already taken her panties off, but still wore her black tank top. She lowered herself onto me and we began to move. We didn’t kiss, we didn’t speak, or touch anywhere else. We didn’t even look at each other, we simply fucked in the purest sense of the word.

The next morning I woke up exhausted. It wasn’t that Becca and I had screwed our brains out all night. We did it only one time, but it was the longest fucking fuck I’d ever had. She took forever to come undone. Every time I thought she was almost there, she’d fake me out. I’ve made girls come right on the spot with only a wink and a flash of
the smile.
Finishing off Becca had become more of a challenge than anything else. There was no way I would let a quiet, pasty, little semi-Goth girl get the best of me. Finally, I conquered the challenge and she had an orgasm, but my stamina was shot in the process.

I opened one eye, looking over to the other side of the bed. It was empty. This girl didn’t talk much, she was willing to just satisfy me, and she left before I woke up. She just might be my dream girl. Just then I heard a noise coming from the other room.

So much for the dream
.

I threw on a pair of jeans and grabbed a T-shirt, pulling it over my head as I walked out of the bedroom. I found Becca in the kitchen cooking.

“Good morning. I hope you don’t mind, but I made some breakfast,” she said with a slight nervousness in her voice.

“No, I don’t mind. Is there coffee?” I asked in a gravelly voice.

“Oh, sure.” She grabbed a mug and poured me a cup as I pulled a stool out from the bar and sat. Handing me the mug and a plate of food, she said, “I made French toast. I hope you like it.”

“I had French toast?” I was astonished there was anything edible in my kitchen.

“Well, you had bread, eggs, and milk. That’s basically French toast.”

“The fuck you say?” I muttered, shoveling in the mouthwatering food.

She giggled. “You’re funny.” She stood on the other side of the bar gazing at the top of the counter.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Glancing up, she said, “I already did.”

“Oh. Good.”

Ah, the awkward silence of the morning-after screw.

“This tastes really awesome. Thanks,” I finally said, hoping it would kick start enough of a conversation to get me through breakfast.

“Oh you’re welcome. I like to cook.”

“Yeah?” She raised her head, but wouldn’t make eye contact with me.

“Yeah. Um… I don’t get to cook very often. My last roommate ate out a lot and Stephanie drinks most of her meals.” I chuckled causing a slight smile to appear across her face. A couple of minutes of silence fell between us again.

I glanced around the room as I continued to eat. Something was different. “Did you clean up?”

“A little. I got up early and things were a little messy. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No, I don’t mind. Thanks. If you’re really feeling sassy I have a couple of bags of laundry that need to get done.” The teasing was obvious in my voice, at least to me.

“I’ll do your laundry.”

“Becca, I was just joking.”

“Well, I’ll do it for you,” she said, giving me a shy smile.

We sat in silence for the rest of the breakfast. After Becca loaded the dishwasher and cleaned the kitchen, I took her home thinking that I wouldn’t see much of her after today. Little did I know she would soon become a semi-permanent fixture at my place.

Closing my eyes, I concentrated on the way his tongue felt swirling around my stomach and then into my navel. I wanted to be turned on. I wanted it to feel sexy, but it just felt cold and wet, like a dog’s nose on my stomach. Pushing those thoughts aside, I imagined that the tongue moving up my bare skin belonged to Chace Crawford. Yeah, scruffy Chace was really nice. The hard surface of the table was uncomfortable, causing me to squirm slightly.
The Tongue
must have mistook this as a response to its abilities because it started to speed up toward my chest. It pulled away briefly when it reached my bra. Immediately, it landed on the top of my breasts, licking off the sugar, right before the lemon was plucked from my mouth and replaced by a pair of cold wet lips. Letting a guy do lemon-drop body shots off of you wasn’t exactly the best activity for a second year law student at Wake Forrest to take part in. Shit like this comes back to haunt you, especially if you plan on climbing the professional ladder and run for office someday. But it had been a long and stressful semester and this was a better de-stressor than banging my head.

As the sound of the chanting college crowd flooded back into my ears, a low husky voice said, “Come on, baby. Let’s go somewhere alone.”

“Okay,” I slurred.

Grabbing my hand, he slid me off of the table and dragged me down the hall until we reached a bedroom. In one chaotic moment, clothes started flying off and around the room. He backed me over to the bed and we fell on top of it. He licked my neck while squeezing one of my breasts. Finesse was definitely not in this dude’s repertoire. I felt the tip of him brush up against my inner thigh.

Shoving him away slightly, I glanced down, and said, “Hey buddy, you need to cover that up, otherwise it’s not gaining access anywhere.”

“Oh yeah. Sorry. I’ll be right back.” I rolled over on my side, facing in the opposite direction as he climbed off of me.

I had been pretty drunk. Either I passed out or had fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew, I woke up to the feel of a dick sliding into me, and the sound of a husky voice breaking through the darkness, urging me to wake up. Once my eyes adjusted to the lack of light I was able to make out the silhouette of a large muscular frame hovering over me. I lifted my hips slightly giving him permission to continue. As he moved and grunted on top of me, numbness invaded my body. The sensation of physical contact was fading for me.

When I first started having sex, the natural response of my body helped distract me from my world for just a bit. I figured it was less harmful than banging my head. I’ve never had a boyfriend. The guys I’ve been with are for the most part random. I knew their names, but over the years even that knowledge had become less important to me. This shadow looming above had me feeling nothing but fear. Was this how it got for my mom? Did she slowly start to lose all physical and mental pleasure sensations until she became completely numb to everything except the pain?

Ever since I was a little girl I had been told I was exactly like my mom. I had her azure blue eyes, chestnut brown hair, bright smile, and bubbly personality. I always loved when people said those things because I wanted to be just like her in every way, but now the thought terrified me. My mom disappeared and was replaced by a shell. Her eyes and hair were the same, but the smile and personality weren’t a part of her anymore. I often wondered if she cut her wrists with the hope of feeling something, anything, before she died.

My body jostled three times before a heavy body collapsed on top and snored.

The bright sunlight streaming through the window forced me awake early the next morning. I eased out of bed, gathered my clothes, and dressed. I was hooking the last clasp on my bra when I heard a groggy cough and the clearing of a throat coming from underneath the sheets.

“Hey, where you going?” he asked.

Glancing over my shoulder I answered, “Home. Do you know where my shirt is?”

“You’re hot as fuck.” I had no idea how hot
fuck
was exactly, but if last night was any indication, neither did this dude.

“And my shoes… where are my shoes?”

“Don’t go. Come back to bed.”

“Can’t.” I scanned the room one more time, but didn’t see my shirt or shoes. A vague memory started to come back that I took them both off before the body shots started, so they must be in the kitchen. I ran my fingers through my hair a few times before opening the bedroom door.

“I don’t even know your name,” he grumbled.

“I don’t know yours either, so we’re even.”

“Will I see you again?”

“It’s highly doubtful. Have a nice life.” I stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind me.

Standing in my bare feet, rumpled skirt, and hot pink lace bra, I took in a deep breath, rounded my shoulders, held my chin high, and plastered a neutral expression on my face. It’s the walk of shame only when you look like you’re ashamed. I was a pro at disguising my feelings, so with steely, unapologetic determination, I started toward the kitchen in search of the rest of my outfit.

I needed to change my plan of action. Telling Mabry how much I love her freaks her out too much. It always ends up with her pushing me away. So instead of telling her, I decided the best thing to do was to show her how much I love her. After getting her breakfast on Monday, I eased off a little. She was still upset that morning probably because of what happened between us at brunch. I didn’t want to scare her off. Besides, actions speak louder than words.