Authors: Karpov Kinrade
Instead of laughing, Vi frowns. "One. Pete. He was kind of like you."
"No one's like me."
She rolls her eyes. "No, of course not. I just mean, he wasn't a sub. All my friends had a crush on him."
Not all guys can handle talking about exes. I don't mind. It lets me learn more about Vi. I can tell this guy affected her. "Not that I'm complaining, but what happened?"
She tosses a stone into the water. "I crashed my car. I had a black eye the size of a pinecone." She sounds casual. The crash must have been minor. "The next week, we all went to an amusement park. I couldn't go on most of the rides. Pete could. That weekend, I caught him and my best friend making out in his car."
I wrap my arm around her. I'm starting to see why she had trouble with me taking control. "That's horrible. And stupid. What kind of guy chooses a roller coaster over you?"
"I know. Fucking bastard."
"And with your friend…"
"Yep. She's the reason I have a hard time with female friends. And you'd think that because I know that, it'd be easier, but it's not." Vi tosses another stone. It falls with a big wet thud.
She leans against my shoulder. "I'm glad I found you."
I kiss the top of her head. "For the record, if you can't ride a roller coaster, you can always ride me."
I do ride him. On my double bed in my old room with Patrick Swayze staring at us from his
Dirty Dancing
poster still hanging on my wall. What can I say? I guess I've always had a thing for dancers.
We try to be quiet. And fail. The bed squeaks as I rise and fall on his cock. And I can't help but giggle and lean over, my breasts brushing against his mouth as we balance between erotic and comical. I feel like I'm in high school again, and any minute my parents will come in and send my boyfriend packing. They're liberal, but not
that
liberal. At least not when their daughter was sixteen.
When my giggles get the best of me, Lach flips me over with an expert move and uses his whole body to make me forget about parents or my red comforter or my old journal still stuck between the bars under my bed. All of those thoughts disappear as he makes love to me, holding me, caressing me, making my body feel every touch, every sensation, every shudder of pleasure.
It feels like we just fell asleep when the sound of my mother singing downstairs wakes us up.
Lach rolls to face me, his eyes slits in his handsome face as he tries to focus through the haze of sleep. "What is that?"
"Country music," I say. "My mom must be making pancakes. She always sings country when making pancakes."
"I will pay her a million dollars to stop and let us sleep for just a few more hours."
Snuggling closer to him under the covers, our naked bodies fitting so nicely together, I don't entirely disagree… but… "We have to get up. You can't come all the way to Belmont Shores and not have her pancakes. She makes the best pancakes the world has ever known."
"So you didn't get your cooking skills from your mother, I take it." He's smiling, and I smack his arm.
"Shush, you," I say with mock ferocity, though I'm smiling too. "I have other skills. Now get moving."
He pulls me back into his arms as I try to escape the bed. "Oh, I'm fully acquainted with those skills. In fact…" his hands dip between my legs and rub against my clit, "I think we should explore those skills more fully in the light of day. If 6am can rightfully be called
day
."
It's hard. So very hard. But I pull away and stand, shrugging into clothes before he can lure me back into the den of temptation and warmth. "Nice try, lover boy. But you'll soon thank me for dragging your tired ass out of bed."
He follows me begrudgingly downstairs, and the smell of fried batter and cinnamon and sugar greet us. My mom hands us each a cup of coffee and points Lachlan to the cream and sugar. "Didn't know how you like it, so feel free to spice it up. Breakfast will be ready soon."
She flips a pancake in her pan and starts up again with another country song. I sigh and smile and sip my coffee. She remembers how I like it. Being home is strange, in a wonderful kind of way. I have so many memories of this place, but they all seem so long ago. Everything feels smaller, and I know it's not just the size, because honestly I'm not really any bigger than I was in high school. It's the scope. The world has opened up before me and the possibilities are now mine to create. This home sheltered me, gave me a safe haven, a nest to grow in. But then I left and everything felt scarier, bigger, more dangerous. But also more exciting.
Still, it's nice to be back and visit your safety nest once in a while. To remember that you're not alone and someone has your back somewhere. My parents are always that for me.
I glance at Lachlan, who's staring at me as he drinks his coffee. I wonder what he's thinking. If he's comparing our childhoods. Our families. Our lives. He doesn't have that safety nest. That feel-good memory of home and hearth. That place to go back to when life gets a little too big. My heart cracks a little for him, and I hope that on some level he can adopt my family, my home, to be a safe place for him.
My mom serves us both and calls my dad in, who was out in the garden pulling weeds. I wait and watch Lachlan take his first bite.
And I smile as he has his first foodgasm. Trust me, it's a thing.
After rolling his eyes back and smiling and groaning and moaning, he finally swallows.
"What did I tell you?" I ask.
"You were right. I will never question you again, my Queen. Angela, these are the best anything I've ever tasted in my life."
My mom smiles and pats his hand. "They're yours anytime you want to come over."
"It's not that long a drive from Vegas," he announces as he devours his plate. "We could probably make this a weekly thing. What do you say, Vi?"
I just laugh and keep eating. My mom has this effect on people. It's a miracle I ever moved out.
***
We spend the rest of the day walking around Belmont Shores, exploring the shops, eating lunch at BJ’s Pizza—which, to Lachlan's dismay, doesn't actually serve blow jobs—and enjoying the shoreline.
That night, we get ready for something my parents planned for the four of us, a mystery cruise dinner. The premise is simple. We board a ship for a few hours while a cast of actors perform a murder mystery that we have to solve while eating dinner and dessert.
Easy enough.
When we arrive we are nearly late because as lovable as my parents are, timely and prompt they are not. I have to whisper sweet nothings into Lachlan's ear to calm him. Apparently he's the 'prompt' type and gets really stressed at the thought of being late. He's convinced the ship has left without us when we arrive five minutes late, but we have plenty of time and board in high spirits.
Before we enter, we are given the opportunity to take pictures together holding various weapons. Lachlan laughs and picks up a wicked looking plastic knife. "The dancer, in the bedroom, with a knife," he says.
"You are ridiculous," I say, smiling.
He nuzzles my neck. "You won't be saying that when I sheathe my big knife into you later," he says.
I slap him away, laughing and pick up a gun. "This looks good on me."
He pulls me into a kiss. "Everything looks good on you, babe."
The photographer grabs a few shots and then takes pictures of my parents, who make out worse than us. I'd tell them to get a room, but they probably would. And really, who am I to talk at this point?
When we see the bar in the corner with a bartender ready to pour, everyone smiles. "Drinks are on me," Lachlan says. Oh, boy.
I take the liberty of ordering for everyone while my parents get our seats at one of the round tables in the back. When the bartender gives me a confused look, I take him through the mixed drinks I know my parents like best.
We've already burned a hole in Lachlan's pocket by the time the show starts, and the heat of the alcohol is making my body fuzzy and happy.
It's hard to focus on the show. Someone dies. Some other people are talking. I have to pee.
I make my way—carefully and a bit wobbly in my red high heels—down the stairs and to the tiny bathroom. After I'm done, I'm about to leave when Lachlan suddenly appears, blocks my exit and pushes me back in with his body. He closes the door behind him and rubs his hands over my back as he nibbles my neck. "You are fucking gorgeous," he says.
I can taste rum on his mouth as he kisses me. "What are you doing here?" I ask. "You're missing the show."
"I already know the killer," he says.
"You do?" This surprises me. I'm not even sure I know who the victim is, let alone the killer.
"Yes, it's the cousin who owned the dry cleaner. They did it for the money and revenge. The email addresses gave it away."
I nod, totally lost but willing to believe him because his hand just slid up my skirt and I don't care about fake murders or emails, I just want this sexy, delicious man standing in front of me.
He hikes up my skirt, pulls aside my panties and spreads me, then lifts me onto his hips, holding me up by my ass as he uses the walls of the bathroom to brace me.
When he enters me, everything crystallizes into just me and him. Nothing else exists. He fills me and makes a fire burn deep in my belly as he pushes his hips into mine, entering me deeper and deeper, his fingers digging into my flesh, deliciously tight and so fucking hot.
This position stimulates my clit and my nipples as every part of our body connects, and when I come it's hard and deep and it sends him over the edge pretty fucking fast.
When we go back upstairs, I feel confident we've covered our tracks. I put myself back together and fix my hair and clothes and no one knows, right?
We eat some cake and fill out some forms (I copy Lachlan's answers, because I, obviously, don't know shit about what happened) and then my parents disappear for a tad too long.
When they come back, I'm horrified.
My mom has a big smile on her face, and my dad looks like the cat that ate the canary. If the canary was my mom. Yuck.
"You kids sure know how to pick ‘em," he says. "That bathroom was just the trick."
I feign gagging sounds. "I can't believe we've had sex in the same place as my parents."
My mom laughs. "Oh, honey, you're so funny. You think we've never gotten it on in your bedroom?"
My face turns red, and Lachlan laughs with them while I die a slow and painful death. Thank God there's more alcohol.
We all regret the liberal use of the bar the night before, but we recover with some help from Vi and her mother and spend a relaxed day getting ready for the renewal ceremony taking place at sunset on the beach.
Most everything has already been set up, from catering to flowers, and it's a pretty casual affair. I'm not sure what I was expecting this weekend. I knew I'd be meeting Vi's parents. And I guess some part of my brain knew that it wouldn't be just the four of us at her parent's renewal ceremony. Honestly, I just didn't give it that much thought. Which is why I'm a bit shell-shocked at having to meet and socialize with the entire Reynolds clan. Because, from what I can tell, every single fucking member of her family and extended family has come for this, from the youngest babies to the oldest grandparents. And they all want to meet Vi's new boyfriend. Good thing I'm used to putting on a game face.
We walk to the beach from Angela and Marvin's home. It's just down the street, and they greet their neighbors as they walk by, Marvin in khakis and a Grateful Dead t-shirt, Angela in a white satin sundress. No one wears shoes. Vi looks drop-dead fuckable in an emerald green sundress that rides her thighs, and suddenly I want to be back in her bedroom under those sheets instead of trudging through sand to where floral arrangements and white wooden chairs await.
It's hard to find a bad weather day in Southern California, and today is no exception. It's fall, so the beaches aren't as crowded as I imagine they would be in summer, but the sun is shining, light glinting off the waves.
It reminds me of Australia a little. The perpetual summer and wide expanses of beaches. I spent a lot of time by the shore as a kid growing up with no one to go home to. Being near the ocean again, even if it's not the right ocean, settles something in me I didn't know was unsettled.
I take a deep breath and smile as Vi holds my hand and introduces me to aunts, uncles, her mother's parents who look tanned and active and happy to be here, and too many cousins running around to count. There are children, teens, tweens and adults in all stages of life gathered here in various states of dress from crazy casual to over-the-top formal. No one seems to care what anyone else is wearing or not wearing. Everyone is smiling, laughing, hugging and finding seats before the ceremony begins.
"I've got to go help my mom get ready," Vi says, squeezing my hand. "Will you be okay on your own for a bit?"
It's sweet that she asks, and I nod. "I'm good. You go ahead." I kiss her forehead and she leans into it, exhaling as my lips touch her skin. This woman. She's undoing me in the best way possible.
I watch as she walks away and don't notice Marvin until he's standing next to me fiddling with a bow tie. Over his Grateful Dead t-shirt.
"She's something special, isn't she?" he asks, watching his daughter.
"She is," I agree, a smiling creeping onto my face.
Marvin turns to me. "I've never seen her this happy. Don't break my little girl's heart."
"It's the last thing I want to do," I tell him, and I mean it. The thought of hurting Vi crushes me.
"You know, son, Vi told us the sticky spot you're in with your dreams to open a youth program and the pressure to tour for another year."
My heart thumps a bit harder in my chest when he calls me son. It's stupid, I know. An adolescent fantasy that was never fulfilled. But somehow, it feels good. Even if it does make me feel ten years old. "Yes," I say, wondering where this conversation is going.
"Have you considered trusting the Universe on this?" he asks in all seriousness.
I can hear the capitalization of 'Universe' in his voice and prepare myself for a hippy, new age conversation on existentialism or some shit. Don't get me wrong, I don't think believing this stuff is bad, it's just never been my path. I'm not sure what my path is, but I know it doesn't involve crossing my fingers and hoping some outside force will fix my problems. "It's been my experience that hard work and determination get you further than trust," I tell him, hoping I'm not loosing cool 'son' points with my honesty.
He nods, his expression thoughtful. "I appreciate that. And I admire a person who works hard and carves his own path in life. But what I mean is, have you considered that you've maybe overthought this? That in planning down to the detail, you've erased any opportunity for magic to happen?" He holds up a hand before I can protest. "I know what you're going to say. I can see the skepticism in your eyes. Just hear me out. Try holding the intention of what you want in your heart of hearts and seeing if the details don't rearrange themselves to give you what you need—what you want—even if it's not what you think it should look like. That's all I'm saying. Sometimes, we think we know exactly what we
want
, but when we open ourselves up to the unexpected, we get what we
needed
all along."
I look at Vi again. She isn't the kind of girl I would have thought I'd be with. Hell, I never thought I'd be with anyone for more than a few nights. But she's perfect for me in every way. I consider Marvin's words and wonder how they might apply to my problem with the after-school center. Could I be holding on to a vision that's keeping me from making the true magic of my ideas work? I don't know.
Marvin pats me on the back. "Good man. I can see you're at least thinking about it." He pulls off his bow tie and hands it to me. "Get rid of this thing for me, will ya? Who wears a bow tie with a t-shirt anyways? And while you're at it, would you mind standing in as my witness? My wife already snagged our daughter, so it looks like I'm in need of someone on my side."
***
As we stand there, waiting for Vi and Angela to walk down the makeshift aisle of white and pink rose petals, for a moment I feel displaced. This could be me and Vi someday. Music starts and I see her first, walking slowly toward me in a vision of green with that wild red hair and my heart swells. The thought of us standing here in front of friends and family doesn't scare me like it would have before. I wink at her, and she grins and takes her place at the front.
Our eyes rarely stray from each other's through the service, and I wonder if she's thinking the same thing. That someday we'll be here, celebrating our love. And maybe after twenty-five years, this will also be us, with kids and family and a lifetime of memories and still having sex in bathrooms and making each other laugh.
The ceremony is fast, back-dropped by a sunset to rival all. As the sky glows in oranges and reds and yellows, we snack on the buffet provided and drink liberally and crowd around to watch Marvin and Angela open their gifts.
When Angela pulls a purple gift bag from the pile, Vi nudges me. "This one's from us."
"Us?"
She links arms with me and leans her head against my shoulder. "Yep. I put your name on it."
I watch and wonder what "we" got her parents for their anniversary. Angela pulls a box out of the bag and laughs. "Oh my!" She holds it up for everyone to see and some of the older adults gasp. "Thank you, Vi and Lachlan. I'm sure we'll put this bondage kit to good use tonight."
Well, that's decided. We're obviously driving home today, because no way do either of us need to hear that tonight. Vi grins at me as if she can read my mind. Saucy vixen probably can.
"There's one more thing in there," she says.
I think it can't get worse.
It does.
Her mother holds up a giant purple dildo and raises an eyebrow. Marvin grabs it and slaps his leg. "Well isn't this something. A chew toy. Now we need to get a dog, Ang."
I take another drink.