Chapter 14 – Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Steve and I awoke Saturday morning still face to face and wrapped in each other's arms. As we looked into each other's eyes, I tickled his back and side. Once you start having sex, you don't want to stop.

"Let's move to the floor," I suggested.

"Okay."

"Put two condoms on."

"Why?"

"I have an idea. Start with two condoms on. Then take one off. Then take the other off. That way, it'll last longer."

"You want it to last longer?" he asked, incredulous.

"I do. I love being under you." Advertently or inadvertently, I was drawing a stark contrast with Sally.

With no springs to worry about, Steve entered me and went at me hard. I grabbed his briefs, wadded them up, and bit down on them to stifle any noises I might make. Steve hooked my knees over his shoulders and pinned my hands over my head.

I was quickly lost in what he was doing to me. When he hit the sweet spot, I closed my eyes, arched my neck, and tried not to cry out. I could feel an orgasm building, but I couldn't touch myself.

I was saved only by Steve stopping to remove the first condom.

I pulled his briefs out of my mouths and urged him to take them both off.

"Am I hurting you?"

"Now, you're thrilling me."

I could tell when Steve returned to me that he'd left the second condom on. I was quickly headed back toward an orgasm. With my hands again pinned down, I couldn't touch myself. I didn't need to. I arched my back and neck as the most intense orgasm I'd ever had thundered through me and shook me from head to toe. I couldn't help myself. I cried out. Steve clapped has hand over my mouth with a look of horror on his face. "Sorry," I said, using only my eyes. He accepted my apology by removing his hand and kissing me.

"Take the other condom off."

He pulled out and did.

"Now, come here."

He straddled me, and I took him in my mouth. His hips quickly matched my rhythm. I took his shaft in my hand and focused my tongue on his head.

"Oh, here it comes," he rasped. And it did, filling my mouth and throat. I gulped it all as I kept going, licking and sucking him until he couldn't take anymore. I didn't know if I was competing with Sally, but, if I was, I wanted to make sure I was winning.

As we dressed, I thanked Steve. "That was awesome."

"It was. Just when I think it can't get better, it does."

When I reached for the door, Steve turned me around, and pressed his mouth to mine.

"I want to tell you something before we go downstairs. . . . This isn't just sex. The sex is great, but this is more than that. I seriously don't want you to feel like a whore."

"I don't," I laughed.

"Good, because it's more than that."

I knew what he was saying. He wasn't explicit, but he was saying it. I decided to confirm it for him.

"I love you, too."

He didn't say a word. He just smiled and turned toward the stairs.

We went downstairs for breakfast. Steve's parents had to know what was going on, but they pretended not to. I wondered how much pretense existed under that roof and within that family.

*****

I floated home. My mother was still at the salon, so I had the apartment to myself. I decided to do myself up to celebrate. By time I was finished, I looked like Cher in one of her most glamorous videos.

I danced a little in the mirror, lounged on my mother's bed like a starlet, and then started the slow process of cleaning my face. When I was finished, I filled the tub, slid into a warm bubble bath, and listened to the Cure. I must have fallen asleep, as my mother startled me when she knocked on the bathoom door.

I invited her in, and she sat on the toilet lid and asked me about my night. I filled her in, alluding to what had happened, but sparing her the details. She visibly flinched when I mentioned Sally.

"He has a girlfriend?"

"Yes, but not a wife," I rejoined, reminding her – not at all subtly – that Mrs. Lustig was being cuckolded by what she and Mr. Lustig were doing.

My mother leaned against the tank of the toilet and sighed, looking defeated. I thought she was tired of my lack of support for her affair, but that turned out not to be it at all.

"What am I teaching you?"

"Excuse me?" I challenged her, thinking she thought she was imparting lessons that I was ignoring.

"What kind of behavior am I modeling for you? How can I expect you to care about Sally if I don't care about Ellen? What kind of role model has your mother become?"

"Mother, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to rattle you."

"I'm not rattled, Butterscotch. I'm thinking clearly. Finally."

My mother hadn't called me Butterscotch since I was little. She had found that name in my blonde hair.

"It's all good, Mom. Don't fret."

"I am fretting. I need to clean my life up. And you need to clean yours up, too."

"Why? That's between Sally and Steve. It's not my problem."

"It is, at least partly. You're part of it. Ellen and Henry are my problem, at least partly. I'm part of it."

"Are you going to break up with Mr. Lustig?"

"I think I have to, at least until he's no longer married. You've reminded me who I'm supposed to be. It's not who I am right now."

"Do you think I have to break up with Steve?"

"I'm not making any decisions for you. You're 18. You can make decisions for yourself. I can only make decisions for me. But, I want you to really think about what your doing, not only selfishly, but also selflessly."

She was right. I pretended not to like pretense, but I appeared content with it when it was in my interest.