, Chastity, it doesn’t mean anything, I tell myself. Not anything real, anyhow.
Or does it? After all, what ended up happening with Jeffrey may have been because I didn’t ever have these feelings for him. It just seemed natural when I was a teenager to go for the guy who loved me, rather than the one I loved. Or had passion for. Maybe it was partly the neighborhood I grew up in, or our parents’ subtle pressure. “Look at those two, it’s like they’re made for each other!” Because if I admit it to myself, Jeffrey never did really seem like the one for me.
I get up and grab a Coke with some ice, and as I take a long sip, something in me releases, and with it some tears. Part of me can see why Jeffrey felt the way he did, and why he had a hard time telling me how he felt. We were just going along some pre-determined track, just trying to be what we thought adults were supposed to be. People who fell in love with the first person they had sex with, got engaged, had a big party and then got married—and after that comes the baby.
“First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage,” I say softly. That was our expectation of life, and life’s expectation of us. A template for high-school sweethearts. Maybe he always knew on some level we weren’t right, and since I never admitted it, neither did he.
I didn’t have enough self-confidence to know that I deserved anything more than the kind of relationship he and I had made. And Jeffrey probably agonized over every word in that letter, maybe stashing it in the nightstand when I came in unexpectedly. Struggling with the thoughts he harbored, his failures to be a dad, or even a good husband.
It doesn’t erase the anger I feel toward him, not entirely at least. He was still going to leave me with the baby as far as I could tell from what he wrote that day. What if I had felt the same way and didn’t want to be a mother? I wouldn’t have that escape route, just to say I feel differently now, and take off. But Jeffrey seemed to think that his feelings were important enough to stick me with all the childcare and all the responsibilities that went along with it. It wasn’t fair.
But maybe I could understand where it came from, at least. And they’re both gone from me now, so it doesn’t matter anymore.
I sigh and go back to the couch, flicking on the television, but not really watching it.
With Kanen, it doesn’t feel like the so-called “love” I had for Jeffrey. That was comfortable, plain, like an old sock. Kind of like the clothes I changed into when I got home. But whatever it is with Kanen is hard, electric, thrilling.
Maybe I should just have a one-night stand with him, and damn the consequences. He’d be worth it. I think about how his fine ass looked as he walked out of the restaurant. He almost caught me staring at it as he turned to tip his hat, but I ripped my eyes away in time. His ass flexing in those faded jeans, his black boots that clicked against the floor, the thick, muscular legs and broad shoulders.
And his cock. His jeans faded deliciously in front, hinting at, almost outlining the bulge barely contained in them. What I wouldn’t do right now to slide my hand down the front of his jeans, and grab the hardening length there. His body is like a sculpture, but moves so gracefully, in complete control, electrically responsive, beautifully lithe even with his undeniable bulk.
But if I did have an affair with him, could I protect my heart? Keep from falling in love? Could I let go and let him dominate me, the way he does the bulls he rides? Just one glorious moment, where we’re blurred and blended together like one, until one of us throws the other and then we go back to our normal lives? My mouth falls open wondering what it would be like to be with him, to have him inside me, ready and willing, filling and thick, grunting and moaning as he took me whatever way he pleased.
Ugh. I’m getting ahead of myself. Lunch and a phone number. It’s nothing when you think about it. He probably doesn’t want much to do with me anyway. A man like him has women crawling all over him, to the point where we’re all just playthings. And I’m not the kind of girl most men bother to play with.
No, like Jeffrey assumed, I’m the kind of girl that you marry…or make plans to marry, and then either leave with a note, or through a car accident—whatever way you can. You get out even if it means losing your life.
I sip my drink and ponder. Kanen is a tough nut to crack.
Grabbing the pillow again I wonder what things would be like if I hadn’t miscarried the little one. That baby was the one innocent part of the whole situation. I’d have a little bundle of love in my arms right now, a sweet baby face staring up at me, needing me. Instead of feeling completely lost, unbound to anything, and as far away from Canada as I could get without hitting Mexico. If I miss anything from that relationship, it’s my precious baby. Well, the baby, and the dreams that turned out to be nothing but dust.
Fourteen
Kanen
Canada’s on my mind, and I don’t mean the country. She’s tempting me. To get in touch with her, to talk to her, to see her. And the urge is bad. I decide to give her a call, see if I can persuade her to come out with me tonight. I figure we can drive out somewhere and drink a bottle of something under the stars.
Of course, she might have other ideas. A lot of women prefer something a little fancier, but that’s only occasionally my style, going out for dinner in tight clothes, a tie, and seeing people come up to me either fawning all over me or putting me down because they think a rodeo cowboy isn’t worth what they’re worth as a CEO in the oil industry. Little do they know that I am one and the same, that I have the same kind of money as they do, and for the same reasons, but I just don’t build my life on it. I build other people’s lives on it, truth be told. If someone else takes care of the oil, that’s good enough for me. And I’ll keep on keeping on with my life as is.
But it’s true that sometimes that life gets a little lonely, despite the endless supply of women that I’ve availed myself of in the past. Yeah, the women who throw themselves at me. They’re good in a pinch, when you don’t feel like being alone, or when you have a hankering to bury your dick in a warm wet hole. Truth be told, I haven’t wanted much more than that in quite some time. Hungry, eat a steak. Horny, pick up the next hot chick and let her wrap her lips or her wet pussy around your cock. It hasn’t been too difficult for me, not to brag. Once I reached about seventeen, I hit my stride, and women haven’t been able to stay away since. Nor for long.
But a woman like Canada—or I should say, Chastity—well, someone like that is a bit different. She doesn’t even understand how gorgeous she is. She’s innocent, somehow. Like a flower that opens its face toward the sun. Look at me getting all poetic. Man alive, I’ve got it bad.
But I know that she’s not just some empty-headed moron like most of the women I’ve been with. There’s something in her eyes that tells me more of what I need to know than anything else, and I can’t say the same about the skanks that line up outside my door. Not that I have anything against sex, hell... I don’t mind admitting that I love it. Every part of it. And I like pleasing a woman probably more than the next guy does. But if that’s all a girl has to offer, she shouldn’t be surprised if someone takes it and leaves the rest.
I pick my phone out of my pocket for the third time and decide to text Canada.
“Hey Chastity, you feeling better, you want to meet up a little later?”
I’m surprised to see that she’s instantly writing me back, the little dots on my screen tell me at least. They start and then stop… and start and then stop.
“Cat got your tongue?” I text her finally. “I can help.”
She writes back. “Haha,” and then after a moment. “Yeah? What do you have in mind?”
I’ll tell you exactly what I have in mind. I have in mind to kiss you like you’ve never been kissed before. Passionately, sweetly, hungrily. I have in mind to slide your shirt from your shoulders and kiss your neck and the tops of your breasts before I take one nipple in my mouth and then the other, watching your eyes close in pleasure as your nipple hardens under in my mouth
. I have in mind running my tongue over the nub as my hand sneaks around and pulls you to me, my thigh between your legs, you grinding against me as I squeeze your sweet ass. To have you beg me to fuck you, and fuck you hard, because I’ve teased you so much you can’t take it anymore. To not let you have my entire length right away, but to kiss and suck your quivering clit as I rub your g-spot and you struggle to stand up against the wall. Then to bend you over and fill you again and again with my hard stiff cock as your pussy wraps around me, hot and wet and needful. Us crying out together simultaneously, me shooting jets of seed inside you, and you taking it all, as we catch our breath, right before we do it all again.