Two tales of fateful timing. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.
Esme & Lucia.
The A new beau for Mama. What will she think?.
By PennameWombat.
The Arrangement
"Out with it, daughter," the command delivered by a clearly amused voice.
[[MORE]]The speaker's loose dark hair fluttered slightly with the air that pushed in through the half-open window as she twisted to glance at the younger woman in the El Camino's passenger seat. Then she faced the road as she pushed the accelerator and kicked up the speed as they chased their shadow up the slope onto the Fourth South Viaduct.
The passenger bit her lower lip as she held crossed arms below her breasts for a few heartbeats as she started to speak once, twice then a third time, before she sighed. Her mother's lack of a reaction likely due to the air rushing into her open window drowning it out. Fortunately. She let her arms fall to rest on the thin cloth of her summer-weight dress slacks, then rolled the window halfway up to let her think.
"Your dress, Mama, um, it's;"
"Oh, did I spill something on it?"
"Huh. That's not what I mean."
The driver grinned as she glanced again at her companion. "Is it too short? I know the wrap shows a bit of thigh when I walk, just above my knee. Noticed that when I bought it Saturday."
"Nnn," the younger woman said then simply huffed before she looked across at the driver and tilted her gaze slightly down, "your tits, Mama. They're, uh, a bit... out."
The driver looked down, then back at the road for a moment as she signaled and drifted right as they hit the downslope to ground level. She looked at her daughter, her mouth momentarily locked open.
"Oh, No! I hadn't noticed," she said before her expression morphed to a broad grin, "but they're pretty sweet for an old woman's, bit of cleavage, it's the current style."
"Bit of cleavage? I can, uh, they're half out."
"You need glasses. Besides, that first night you brought Jeremy home, yours were in neon."
"What?" Lucia's head snapped to her left, her mouth held open. "They... were not. I'd buttoned... uh."
The driver laughed. "Ah, finally. Years later, you admit it. Poor pool boy, you flashed him those stupendous tits you have thanks to my genes, he'd never had a chance after that. He is a great son-in-law, so at least you chose well. But, just because you're half my age, you can have yours out?"
Lucia closed her eyes and pressed fingers to her forehead, then sighed. "Ok, yeah. Then. But now, uh, mine aren't out."
"That is a boring blouse. You could've done better. First impressions. You usually have yours out, my turn," she said as she navigated the El Camino into the parking garage, "we'll see if Jeremy's judgement is still good."
Lucia stayed silent as her mother hummed something from the old country that she remembered from her childhood. It meant Mama might have been more nervous than she let on, but as she'd done on those past occasions, she'd not waver in what she'd set out to do..
"Over there," her mother said as she tapped the accelerator, "close enough to the door. Have you ever been to this place before?"
"Uh," Lucia took a moment to regain her focus, "no. Jeremías hasn't either. I don't know why he picked it. Didn't tell me."
"He didn't tell you anything," the driver said as she spun the car and smoothly backed it into the open space, "because you'd get all worried and screw it all up. It's MY night. I just agreed to let you come."
Lucia bit her lip and released a long, slow exhale through her nose. "This was my idea."
"You have introduced me to a few, uh, well, whatever they were."
"Men, Mama, they were men. Men your age, or, uh, more or less."
"If you insist that's what they were," the driver punctuated with a shrug, "you finally got smart, if you're going to do this, your husband chose well once before. We'll see if he handles this as well as he handles you."
Lucia stared at the laughing figure's back as she pulled the keys, grabbed her purse from the bench seat between them and stepped out of the car and spoke firmly just before she pushed the door closed.
"Come, daughter."
Two pairs of heels clicked along the mall's floor as Lucia listened to her mother's soft humming, another tune from those years that were fuzzy from Lucia's youth. Years that'd seen her plenty of doubts and hard work, not unlike relatives. But when Mama decided to push through, things got pushed through. The older woman had her purse over her right shoulder faced forward as they walked and seemed satisfied to not speak. Rehearsing? Or simply ignoring her daughter?
Whatever the case, the real air conditioning was a nice change from the El Camino's lack and the stuffy parking garage.
"There it is," Lucia said, "uh, how'd he set this up? This place has been packed since the drug and kidnapping thing a few months ago. Everyone wants to come here."
"Your husband has connections, daughter. Also, it's Wednesday. Not the busiest day."
"But, still. Connections? He's a junior architect."
They slowed as they entered through the open double doors. A slender woman with her brown hair in a flattened pony-tail and wearing black slacks and a white, button-down shirt held menus and stood alongside two couples. She smiled at the new arrivals.
"Welcome to the Broiler, I'm Valerie. Let me seat these folks and I'll be right back."
"Take your time," the older woman said, switching to accented English. Valerie smiled and led the two couples past curtains tied open. Sounds of conversation filtered through the opening.
"Do we even know what he looks like?" Lucia said in the Spanish they'd used since leaving her mother's house.
"Jeremy said he's tall, nice bod, and 'look for the nose,'" her mother responded in the same language and Lucia huffed.
"Nice bod?"
"What? I don't deserve one with as sweet an ass as your husband has?"
Lucia's mouth locked open as her mother grinned at her, then felt her face flush when someone cleared her throat to their side. She turned and saw the maître'd, Valerie, or whatever.
"Buenas noches, bienvenidos a la Parrilla," Valerie said in Spanish before switching and she paused for an instant and her eyebrow moved and her smile broadened, "I believe you're here to meet with another party."
"You read minds, Valeria. We're here for the Pearson party," the older woman again in her accented English.
"Ah, yes. I just sat the third member of your party a moment ago. I think you'll be pleased."
Lucia looked at Valerie, then at her mother, and back. The maitre'd's ethnicity wasn't clear, but her Spanish was smooth. She was something like a decade and a bit older, late-thirties, so halfway between her and Mama. But with her comment, she and Mana seemed to share something as they held eyes and smiled for a moment. Mama nodded.
"I already set your places," Valerie said, "this way."
"Te falta te hija," Valerie laughed at the older woman's chiding tone as she led the pair, having already proven she spoke their tongue, "this beautiful lady won't lead us astray."
The dining room was all but full, maybe only a single table unoccupied. Conversations continued, with only an occasional glance their way as Valerie led them on a winding path to a table along the windows.
The seated man seemed to sense their approach and looked up from the menu in his hands, then quickly set it down and stood and turned to face them, a clear if tentative smile on his face.
Lucia's right eyebrow popped up and down. His nose. It was... distinctive. Not natural, it'd been broken, but not once. A few times. But that said, he was tall, taller than her or Mama, taller than Jeremías but maybe a shade shorter than primo Miguel and broad but certainly not as broad as that husband of Concetta's. Bitch Concetta, who really DID want to fuck Jeremías, despite her masking her lust with teasing and jokes, talk about showing off tits every chance she could to Lucia's husband, and with skirts that barely covered her ass, and....
Her mother's soft hum, soft yes, but... thoughtful but happy, forced Lucia's thoughts away from her crazily curvy and beautiful frenemy. The here and now. This... man. He took a small step and extended his right hand as Valerie grinned and stepped aside.
"Señora Baca, very pleased to meet you, I'm James Pearson," he said and an eyebrow quirked up but settled as he was offered a right hand. But not in a position to be shaken. He accepted it, and guided it upwards as he bent slightly to kiss the back of the palm. He straightened and lowered it but held it softly when it wasn't pulled back.
"Pleased to meet you, Señor Pearson. I am Esmeralda Baca, but please call me Esme."
Esme let him pull her hand to a second soft kiss, then gazed at her as they maintained the contact.
"Please call me Jim, Esme."
She smiled and held his gaze for another moment. Lucia fought back the hard huff and Mama finally glanced at her.
"And this is my daughter, Lucia Danko. She's here because she's worried you'll not be a gentleman and dismember me or something."
"WHAT?" Lucia said as Esme laughed.
"You won't do that, will you, Jim Pearson?"
Lucia thought his smile was natural, he just wasn't used to using it.
"No, Esme Baca, I certainly won't," he said and used gentle pressure on her hand to lead her to the other side of the table and she kept her eyes on his, "please, let's all sit down."
"Siéntate, niña," Esme said firmly as Jim released her hand, stepped around the table and held the chair across from his out, and she sat before he sidled to the next chair, "deja de mirar con rudeza."
Lucia started at the tone. And Mama's choice of phrasing. She flashed a look at her mother and received one as sharp back. She squeezed behind her mother and into the offered chair.
"Thank you," she said.
She'd caught the slight confusion on the man's face. Unlike the maitre'd and her husband, he showed no sign he spoke Spanish. Esme spoke as he stepped around the table and sat down.
"I apologise for my daughter's rudeness, Jim," Lucia couldn't fight down her huffed exhale, Esme chuckled, "but, better things. Was this restaurant your choice? What's good here?"
"It was suggested to me," he said with a quick glance at the younger woman, "I have been here, but not to eat."
"There is a tale there," Esme said as a waiter approached, "but, first."
"Good evening, I'm Andy. Would you like something to drink?"
Jim looked at Esme and she smiled, then looked up at the waiter. "I'm a simple woman, Andy, I'll have the Modelo Especial."
Jim smiled. "Coors, please."
Andy nodded and everyone looked at Lucia. She blinked.
"Uh, just a Coke, please."
"Be right back," Andy said and spun to walk away.
"So, Jim Pearson," Esme said, "you've been here? For work?"
"I guess that's the way to put it."
Esme nodded. "Health department?"
Lucia noticed the flash across his face as he seemed to work through something.
"I am a public servant, but I'm on the Force. I'm a detective, a Senior Detective Lieutenant."
Lucia pulled her jaw shut so she didn't gape like a dead trout. Holy shit! Her... fucking husband had set Mama up with... a cop. No, not only a cop. A GRINGO cop! She glanced to her left. Her mother's expression hadn't hardened, but it'd gone serious and she nodded slightly, her arms in a vee with her hands meeting just below her chin.
How the fuck had her husband, an architect who drew things and had never ever been arrested, find this cop?
"That would've been the kidnapping about the drugs here a few months back," Esme said.
"Yes, we were brought in, as the gang had been on our radar. But, really, the ladies they kidnapped turned the table on their kidnappers. We just cleaned up."
Esme smiled before her expression went neutral and she sat back slightly. "Guillermo Villarreal, your people?"
Jim's expression went serious. "Ah, he an acquaintance?"
"I have many acquaintances," Esme said simply. Jim nodded.
"My condolences, a terrible crime. If you saw the news, it was two of my detectives who brought his killer in, that Michael Owen," Lucia's eyebrows tightened, his voice seemed to convey pride, if still soft.
"La negra," Esme said, "on the news."
"Detective Brenda desPlain, you saw," Jim's voice definitely conveyed pride in its firmness and it was clear he understood at least the odd Spanish word, "I chose her myself for the squad. Owen put her partner in the hospital in the fight but she kicked his ass and dragged it into court. Uh, um sorry."
Esme laughed. "No, Jim Pearson, do not apologize for describing the skill and bravery of those you send into danger. He was a gringo boy, that she kicked and dragged."
"And a killer, I don't care," Jim said with a firm tone. Esme smiled, and her posture relaxed.
Lucia's head bounced from Mama to this, this, gringo cop. And... her mother had leaned forward, just slightly, but with the dress's cut it offered, well, it offered a view to the taller man. Jim's glance and his smile made clear it'd been noticed, but not dwelt on. Mama's smile that she knew... and didn't move. Oh... shit. This was going... well?
"What do you do, Esme?" Jim asked.
"I, too, am an underpaid public servant," she said and both snorted, "I work for the library system, ESL and Meso-American collections."
"Ich spreche Deutsch," Jim said, "not so much use."
"You speak a second language," Esme said, "so much more than many."
"How long have you worked for the library?"
"A quarter century. Twenty-five years," sha said and stopped at his sudden smile and stiffer posture.
"Seriously? This is my twenty-fifth year on the city force here, although I guess it's not exactly twenty-five years I've been an officer," he said and tapped his nose, "spent a few years as a patrolman in Idaho before I moved here. This from my early days, arresting a few too many drunk and rowdy. I should get it fixed."
"No, Jim Pearson, you should not," Esme said and softened her posture and invited him to do likewise. "both of us, twenty-five years. The same year I arrived in this country and my daughter, who is beginning to seriously cramp my style here, was born."
"Uh, wha... Mama," Lucia said but Esme simply chuckled.
Everybody turned as Andy arrived with the drinks and a basket of sliced crusty bread and two small bowls, one of softened butter and one of olive oil.
"If you're not ready to order," he said in cheerful voice, "not a problem. We have all night. May I suggest our salt and pepper calamari, yes, I know, not an ocean nearby. Flown in, sorry it's not Friday, that's when we get our fresh fish. But the calamari and our onion rings."
"Drugs in the fish? Ow!" Lucia said as Esme kicked her ankle under the table. Jim chuckled.
Andy grinned. His voice had an amused tone but with an edge of steel to it. "Ah, no. We're just BORING around here ninety-nine percent of the time. That was a special evening and we do a more thorough job of interviewing our chefs now."
Jim and Esme traded looks and she gave a tiny nod. He looked at Andy. "We'll take your advice on the appetizers. And we promise to look at the menu."
"Like I said, no rush. I'll be back in a bit and we can discuss tonight's specials," he spun on his right heel and strode away.
"Cramp your style?" Lucia asked.
"Well, be friendly with our gentleman guest," Esme said and she turned to look across the table, "and, Jim. Would you be willing to help me write my name later? If the evening warrants it, but the signs are good."
Lucia went straight and stiff. She stared at her mother.
Jim's face had a puzzled, but pleased, expression. "I would certainly be willing."
"Mama, you... can't."
"Si mi hija puede hacerlo," Esme said softly, then turned to Jim, "my daughter has lost her sense of adventure, now that she is married to a lovely man."
Lucia knew she'd failed to avoid the trout look this time. "Excuse me, little girl's room." She shifted the chair and squeezed out. Jim nodded at her as she left. Esme shrugged and looked at him and encouraged him to speak.
"Twenty-five years... all around," he said, "where were you born, Esme? We're both immigrants to this city, but my journey can't compare to yours."
"Restroom?" Lucia asked a waitress, who pointed to an area between the bar and entrance. Valerie's path intersected hers halfway there. Lucia smiled at the woman, who gave a broad smile and asked in a Spanish that Lucia recognized as Old Country. Born? Or simply very diligent schooling, since the schools always used that.
"Is it going well?"
"Going well? You... know? Did my husband, Jeremías, talk to you?"
"Ah, no. His name was mentioned, but a bit more indirect than that. Last time I got involved in, ah, matchmaking, things turned out a bit more exciting than they had any right to."
Lucia took a moment to register the comment. "The kidnapping."
"Yes, the little brunette, Tracy. Had a thing for one of my former chefs. Not the drug smuggling one. A good one."
Lucia stared at the woman. "Tracy? Brunette? She's... my intern, just started for the summer today. Was she involved?"
"Nah, it was one of the other police officers, a lady detective I'd met during that bit of trouble."
Jeremías would be getting some direct questions later, Lucia thought, but she just nodded for the woman.
"So, going well?" Valerie asked.
"Uh, yeah. Maybe... too well. Says I'm cramping her style. Says she's going to have him write her name."
"That sounds romantic. Depending."
"I never should've told her... when I first met Jeremías I... uh," she felt the heat rise in her face, "held his, uh, prick and used his pee to write my name. Most of it. The 'a' was kinda only half, he hadn't had enough water to drink."
Valerie took a moment, then grinned. "And after that?"
Lucia held her tongue between her teeth as it poked just past her lips. Shook her head slightly. She was pretty sure her cheeks weren't just hot but also red. Her complexion meant that if it became noticeable, things were... extreme. Like this.
"Well, I'm going to tell my chefs to take special care with your meals and that Jim gets plenty to drink. And... your table won't be getting a check. THIS time it's all going to work out."
Lucia groaned, shook her head, but then she shrugged and smiled. Valerie squeezed her shoulder and walked toward the kitchen entrance with clear if soft laughter.
By PennameWombat for Literotica. © 2023 PennameWombat.
Saviour
Jeff runs into his dream-girl at just the right time.
By Wisheswerehorses.
"Nice car." Debbie really did like the dark green vintage GTO.
He glanced over, "Thanks," checked his mirror and pulled out. She remembered how shy he had been in high school. Sometimes she had felt his eyes on her in French class. If she turned to him he'd look down like he was caught doing something terrible.
That was three years ago, but his reaction to her hadn't changed much, even if his appearance had. In high school he was real nerdy, which Debbie liked. Now he was casually dressed but deliberately so; the jeans were brand new, and the plain black long sleeve jersey was handsome, and fit perfectly. It was a nice look, and he was cuter even than she remembered. He smelled pleasantly of good shampoo. There was also a faint peppermint scent but Debbie couldn't tell if it was coming off Jeff or something in the car. Thank God he wasn't wearing cologne.
-I didn't think to tell him-
He made a left off her block and a right onto Hempstead. He cleared his throat, paying extreme attention to traffic, checking his rear and side mirrors over and over. Debbie tried to set him at ease.
"Where are we going to eat?" He had said dinner and a movie.
"I reserved at Stephan's." He took a quick, nervous look at her. "I should have asked you. Is Italian okay?"
"I love Italian and Stephan's is the best."
"Well," he said.
Debbie chopped away at his restlessness. "I like your outfit. You look real nice." She shifted on her seat to half face him.
"Ehrgm, oh thanks." He smirked. "My suit was in the cleaners, so."
She laughed.
-That's better-
He cleared his throat again and stared straight ahead as he said,
"You look beautiful," nervous about saying it, she could tell.
"Thanks. That's nice of you. I didn't know what to wear. You should have seen me pulling out blouses and skirts, dresses. I finally gave up and put on what I felt comfortable in." She had on good jeans, a loose purple gauze blouse that covered her hips, and faux-leather cowboy boots. "When I get home I'll be hanging things up for an hour." She chuckled and rolled her eyes in self-mockery, hoping maybe he'd see it. He glanced over and tried on a smile. Oh well, he'll relax eventually.
"I was happy that you asked me." They pulled into the parking lot.
"Me too," he said. "I mean...I was glad you, you know...you..."
"Said yes?" She laughed.
They had run into each other at the mall. He had only nodded, even though he was obviously surprised to see her, and probably would have just walked on by but she stopped and said, "Wow! How are you?" So he stopped and chatted with her while his friends waited a few steps away.
Debbie remembered thinking he was sweet and cute, and had found his shyness a turn-on, so she just went on talking to him until he-finally-asked her out. It was like he had surprised himself, his body twitching a little as he asked, "Could I take you out sometime?"
"Absolutely, "she said, and fished in her purse for a pen and a something to write on. He waited until the next evening to call, and they set up this date.
He pulled into a spot and turned to her.
"Look, I'm a little nervous."
"So am I," she said. We're in this together, her look said. "Isn't everyone nervous on a first date, second date, third date?"
"You don't seem nervous."
"I was in drama club, remember."
"Yeah." He ran his hand through his hair, took a deep breath.
She held her hand out for him to see. It shook just a little. He looked at her and she smiled,
"Dead giveaway," she said.
He held his out also, just a tiny vibration. She took his hand in hers and pulled it down on the seat in between them, leaned over and gave him a quick kiss. His eyes were wide.
"Umm," he said.
"So we're both a little nervous. Let's try to relax and enjoy dinner."
He smiled, "the kiss helped."
Debbie snickered and leaned over for a deeper kiss, her hand on the back of his neck this time. He pulled away first and looked past her out toward the restaurant.
"Ready?" he asked.
"Yes." She noticed as he got out, a quick adjustment of his package, she smiled to herself. Umm. She came around the car and took his hand in hers as they walked to the entrance.
The restaurant was tastefully decorated; the white walls had thin black and blue pinstripes every four feet, the tables were wood with white and blue pinstripes, the polished black lacquered chairs sat on white marble tile floors veined black and grey. Debbie ordered a glass of white wine but Jeff declined.
"I'll have a coke," he said to the waiter.
"I figure the wine will relax me."
"That's fine. You drink up." He jolted and looked up. She met his surprised look.
"I didn't mean...."
"That I should get drunk?" Her eyes sparkled with laughter.
"Yeah...that." He blushed.
"Don't worry. Wine doesn't turn my head." She took a sip. "You a Coca-Cola Man?"
"No I like wine, but I don't want to relax myself into a car accident." He took a sip of his soda. "And unlike you, wine does go to my head."
Debbie smiled at him. "What if I wanted to get you drunk?"
He laughed nervously. "Umm, don't worry about me. That kiss turned my head." He looked around for the waiter.
Dinner was great. Jeff tasted her fish like he was receiving a sacrament; Debbie tasted his veggies but declined the lasagna due to the meat sauce.
"Vegetarian?"
"I eat fish."
"Is it a health thing?"
"More of a personal thing. It started cause I didn't like the thought of eating animals that are as smart as my dog. It expanded from there. Now I'm down to fish."
"Using those guidelines, you could still eat some of the kids we went to school with." They chuckled.
Debbie asked him how school was going. He told her it was great, hesitated and looked at her.
"Don't worry." She told him, "I'm probably going to start next year."
"I was surprised to hear you hadn't gone. You were one of the best students"
"My heart just wasn't into it after my Dad died."
"I'm sorry about that."
"Thanks."
"I was shocked when I heard. I felt awful for you. Should we not talk about it?"
"It's okay. People avoid the subject out of courtesy and I wind up with no one to talk about it with; except Mom of course."
"Well stop me anytime, but I do have a question if you don't mind."
"Shoot."
"Were you close?"
"Yes," she said without hesitation. "He was wonderful, so sweet to my Mom, always doing things with me, making me feel special. I miss him all the time."
Jeff fiddled with the wrapper from his straw, nodded at her slowly.
"I hope this doesn't come out wrong." He looked down at his hands, which were ripping the wrapper apart, he put it down. "I really hope this is okay." Debbie nodded for him to continue.
"Well, I think you're very lucky to feel like that. I know it's horrible that he died so young, and I can't imagine losing someone who I felt like that about." He looked up, and she was nodding that she understood. Her eyes were wet.
"I just think you're so lucky to have had a Dad like that. That's all."
"I know I am, though I can see why you might hesitate to say it. It was crushing for both of us, out of the blue like that."
They looked at each other over the unspoken fact that had also been passed. She thought it wise to leave it that way and move on. She dabbed her eyes with the napkin.
"I'm sorry."
"No," she shook her head. "I appreciate what you said, really, it's okay." She smiled.
"Okay." He sipped his soda, thinking of what they had been talking about. "Oh, so what are you going to school for?"
"I don't know. Nothing practical interests me. I thought English would be fun."
"Nothing wrong with that. You could teach, reporter, editor."
"Mail room." She laughed. "I could always keep what I do now."
"What are you doing?"
"Sanitation."
"Like wrestling?"
"No really."
"Wow."
"It's smelly but I wear a dust mask. It keeps me in shape, and I made almost sixty this year."
"Grand?"
"Yeah, with overtime. Great benefits, retire in twenty."
The waiter came back, asked if they would like desert. Jeff looked at her, but she shook her head.
"So let's see, I've been in school, spending money while you've made, oh a hundred and fifty grand."
"Less; you start out at thirty five and it goes up every year. Next year I'll make more so I'll probably just stick with it, go to school at night."
The check came and she picked it up.
"No way," he said.
"I can afford it."
"So can I."
"What, add it to your loans."
"Please, I asked you out, I'll feel awful if you pay."
"Okay. But you have to let me pick it up next time."
He looked squarely at her. "There going to be a next time, really?"
Debbie smiled. "Yeah, if you have time before going back to school."
"I'm back home again for a while. Taking a semester off." He was afraid to tell her he had withdrawn from his classes and didn't have any plans to return.
"So maybe it won't be another three years."
Jeff started the car, which was a reward from his parents for going straight A's through high school. The bribe. He called it.
"Would you mind if we didn't see a movie?"
"Sure," he said. "Anything you like."
"How about the North Shore?"
"Yeah, that's cool."
Debbie asked if she could find some music, Jeff hit the power and held his hand out; Help yourself. They drove in silence for a while. Jeff's nerves were still apparent, but Debbie didn't feel like talking now anyway. She reached her hand across, asking for his, and held it as she sang along with the radio.
"Nice voice," he said.
"Thanks."
When they turned toward the beach she patted their joined hands on the seat, "I love it here."
"Yeah, it's nice out here." His voice cracked.
He was visibly relieved, seeing there were other people. A campfire burned brightly halfway to the water. A dozen or so teens gathered around. Acoustic guitars and singing reached them.
"Party going on." He said, cheerfully.
"Cool." Debbie turned to hide the laugh which threatened to escape her. She was still smiling when she came around the car. Little did he know he was just making it harder for her to keep her hands off him. "How about a walk?"
They walked the beach to the old pier, where Debbie turned and faced him, put her arms around him. He leaned down to kiss her, and she pressed against him. She felt him swell as their breathing intensified. He stopped and looked at her. "You're so beautiful."
She smiled. "Thanks, so are you."
He rolled his eyes. "I used to watch you in French class."
"Really? You should have said something. I always liked you."
"No."
"Never saw me look at you?"
"Thought you were annoyed I was staring."
"I was just peeking. I never knew how tell someone...you know?"
Jeff looked momentarily distraught. "You could've had anyone."
"I wanted you and got no one instead. That's why I didn't let you get away this time, at the mall."
"Oh," he laughed. "I thought you were just enthralled."
"With what? Your shopping list."
They both laughed. Debbie went on, "Metamorphic rock?"
That cracked him up.
"Weather patterns?"
"I didn't give you my metamorphic rock rap, did I?"
She took his hand and they walk back to the car.
On the way home they sing with the radio. Debbie is all a-tingle with good feelings. She has a buzz from the kissing and laughter. This is the best date she's ever had. Jeff seems better, but Debbie still senses something, some unrest behind his eyes. As they drive slowly up her block, she decides to act on the urge that's been growing in her all night.
"Do me a favor," she says. "Don't stop. I might pass by a friend's house." She doesn't want him to know in advance. The way he is, he might freak.
"Make a right."
"Okay."
"Left here." They are on a dark street. The park on the right is empty.
"Pull over."
Now he's nervous. He pulls over.
"You know," he starts to protest but she doesn't let him. She slides over and puts a finger to his lips, shuts the ignition.
"SHHHH." She reaches behind and unhooks her bra, leaving it floating under her blouse. She unbuttons his jeans. "Pull them down," she orders. He obeys. Debbie unzips her own and slides them down. She comes up and kisses him, taking his hand under her blouse to her breast.
He moans into her mouth. His erection is a marble statue against his belly. He massages her hard nipple, hefts her breast and she can't wait. She brings her legs up on the seat, knees facing the backrest. She slides down, rubbing herself as she takes him in her mouth. He gasps, rests a hand gently on her head, the other on her smooth hip.
He gets there quickly, warns her that he is coming. He calls out. The intensity of his orgasm makes Debbie delirious; her body floods with heat, then release as she comes, sucking hungrily, moaning over and over around his cock. He strokes her hair, her back; "Oh my God," he whispers. Debbie wants to stay there with her mouth around him, smelling his body and the faint peppermint.
After a while she pulls away and helps him get his pants up but doesn't pull up her own. Sliding next to him again, she looks around, takes his hand to her breast again and then down. She wants him to feel her wetness, wants him to remember being inside of her.
"Oh my god," he whispers again. She picks her hips up, slides onto his finger, kisses his neck as she rubs against him. Her little whimpers pierce his heart. They increase, and she holds his hand firmly against her as she comes again, stifling her cries against his neck, "Oh Jeff, oh my God, oh Jeff."
Debbie zips her jeans, re-clasps her bra and fluffs her blouse around her. Jeff watches her in disbelief. She smiles at him.
"I just had to have you," she says. He opens his mouth, closes it again. Debbie takes up the slack.
"That was beautiful. You're amazing." He only gazes into her eyes. She leans over and gives him a quick peck on the lips, sits back and takes his hand.
"Now you can take me home."
They pull up in front of her house. She fluffs her blouse again and reaches into her purse for her keys and a cigarette. She looks at him.
"Want to go out again?"
"Can I have one of those?"
"Oh, you smoke?" She pulls one out, hands it to him. He takes it with his left hand, takes her hand with his right.
"I don't actually, but I need something." He laughs uneasily. "Do I want to go out again? You're kidding, right? I'll call you...whenever you say."
"Maybe see me tomorrow night?"
"Absolutely."
"Great." She leans over and pecks him on the lips again, smiles gratefully into his eyes, making sure he sees. "Thanks for a wonderful night. Talk to you tomorrow." She gets out of the car and lights the cigarette, waving him to go ahead. He opens the window. "I want to make sure you're safe inside."
"I'm fine. I want to smoke on the porch and...think." Her smirk reaches him like a caress. "Call me in the morning, any time after nine. Now go." She waves him on.
"Okay," he says.
She waved to him, Bye. He waved back and left. Debbie was delighted with herself. She'd only had three other experiences, going all the way once. None of it had been satisfying. But her body simply purred for Jeff. She couldn't wait for tomorrow. Tomorrow I want it all. She had always had a feeling about him. She knew now that she had been correct. He was the one she wanted.
Jeff drove towards home but he knew already he wouldn't go there. He pulled into the empty grocery parking lot, got out and went around to the trunk and opened it. Feeling around under the spare he found and lifted a bag of fifty pills. He glanced around then strode quickly to the dumpster, lifted the lid enough to deposit the pills.
Next stop was the lake. He replayed the scene as he drove, still in shock, Debbie panting into his neck, coming, FOR HIM! Oh Jeff, she had cried. The girl of his dreams, who he didn't really know but had from afar loved-he swore it was love- wound up his first after all. The look in her eyes...for me. Thanks for a wonderful night. "My God Debbie. How is it possible that you came along now?"
He pulled into the deserted lot by the lake, fished around the trunk and came up with the revolver. He released the cylinder and loosed the bullets into his palm. One two three four five six. He pocketed them and walked calmly to the water's edge. He reared back and hurled the pistol as far as he could. "Fuck You," he shouted as he released it. He heard it splash far from shore. He repeated the act with each bullet. "Fuck You, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. YOU LOSE MOTHERFUCKER," he screamed. He crouched down, breathing heavy but said again softly, "You lose motherfucker. You lose."
He climbed back into the car and left. He couldn't go home, wanted never to go there again. He checked the time, called Steve.
"Hey man. How was the date?"
"Oh, it was great. Listen, can I sleep over?"
"It didn't go well. What happened?"
"No really, it was great. She's an angel. I'm seeing her again tomorrow. I just don't want to go home."
"Come around back. We'll crash in the basement."
"Thanks man."
Jeff's Dad sat on the porch smoking, wondering about his son. Jeff had never shown anything was wrong with him until now. From straight As' to dropping out was a sign. When he asked Jeff what happened, he said he just needed a break from school. His father knew that was bullshit, and it terrified him. He thought of scenarios where he would be safe, even if Jeff was not. He wanted to survive.
By Wisheswerehorses for Literotica.