Chapter 19 Georgie
Georgie
The early fall weather in Nashville has been mild and pleasant, so I’ve taken to hanging out in the backyard with Weston as much as we can before the temperatures drop. While Weston naps in his stroller, I work on weeding the flower beds.
James’ outdoor space is huge, and he has it laid out to create certain zones.
Between the large swaths of grass and pebbled walkways, he has elaborate garden beds planted with all kinds of wildflowers and native greenery.
It’s beautiful, lush and verdant, dotted with bursts of color from all the different flowers.
After I found some gardening supplies in the garage, I got to work weeding, watering, and filling the birdhouses with birdseed.
Since James is out of town and Weston is so little, it’s been easy to keep up with the housework. Which is why I’m outside doing yardwork. Without James here, I’m bored and lonely, so I’m doing what I can to stay busy and count down the days until James comes home.
Home.
Not quite sure when I started referring to James’ house as home, but I have. I need to keep reminding myself not to get too comfortable. If I’m not careful, just like these plants I’m tending, I could put down roots here.
But staying at James’s house is only a stopgap measure until I get back on my feet, which I can’t do until I find a job and start making money. I’ve been looking online at apartments, and it’s a lot more expensive to live in Nashville than it is to live in a small town in Alabama.
Still, it feels safer to keep as much physical distance between Weston and my old life as possible, so I’d rather stay in Nashville.
Even if James hasn’t asked, I’m sure he wonders why I only had three contacts saved in my phone.
When I decided I wanted to keep the baby, I left everyone I knew behind.
I couldn’t risk Nolan finding out that I hadn’t gotten an abortion.
I jumped from cheap motel to cheaper motel, in part because no one would rent to me with a recent eviction on my record, but also because it made it harder for Nolan to find me.
Not that I thought he would look for me, but I still didn’t want to risk it.
But if I’m serious about staying in Tennessee, I need to get serious about finding a job.
Despite having a new phone, I’ve been keeping my old one charged since it’s the number I wrote on my application for Deb’s Diner.
I hope Sheila will call to tell me I got the waitressing job, but with each day that passes, the more anxious and less hopeful I become.
Probably time to consider turning in those other job applications. I’ve held off turning them in because I don’t want to bring Weston with me. As soon as they see a young woman with a newborn, my application will get tossed in the nearest trash bin.
With a sigh, I accept that I’ll just have to wait another few days for James to get back in town.
When some clouds roll in, obscuring the sun’s rays and instilling a chill in the air, I put up the gardening supplies and take Weston inside. Putting him in his swing, I head into the laundry room to fold the load I put in earlier.
It’s James’ clothes from the hamper in his bedroom. Pulling his T-shirt out of the dryer, I lift it to my face and inhale deeply, sad to be met with the scent of detergent and not James’ smell.
When I realize what I’m doing, I remind myself, everything between us is fake. It’s all part of an arrangement with a set end date.
But… after that one night when James brought me to orgasm with his fingers, I can’t stop thinking about what might have happened between us if he hadn’t left to join Charlie’s tour the next day. If we’d had more time together, would something more have developed?
It isn’t smart for me to contemplate such things.
I only swore off men after losing too much of myself to the wrong man.
As much as it hurts to keep my walls up around James, it’s for the best. You know how the saying goes: fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice, shame on me. I can’t be made a fool twice.
When I’m finished folding James’ laundry, I haul the basket into his bedroom and slide open his dresser drawers as I figure out where he keeps everything. This isn’t the first time I’ve done his laundry, but it is the first time he hasn’t been home to put it away himself.
As I pull open the top drawer, my jaw drops. I was expecting socks, maybe some boxer briefs, but I was not expecting an assortment of condoms, flavored lube, leather handcuffs, and… is that a cock ring? It’s new, still in the plastic packaging.
If James were an ice cream flavor, he wouldn’t be vanilla.
Holy shit, my mouth goes dry. I can’t keep myself from thinking about James using these things on me. Knowing what he hides in that drawer won’t help me keep my mind off James, that’s for damn sure.
Shaking myself out of my fantasy, I close the drawer and hastily put away the rest of the clothes. But my mind never strays far from the contents of that drawer.
As I’m closing the bedroom door behind me, I hear my phone ringing and rush to answer it.
My heart leaps when I see James’ name flash across the screen, and I swipe to answer the call with the enthusiasm of a child on Christmas morning.
“Hey, you!” I chirp, my cheeks blushing as I remember my fantasy about James wearing that vibrating cock ring as he plows into me.
Yeah, I may have investigated a little and found out that it vibrates.
“Hey, Georgie,” his deep, rumbling voice sets a flurry of butterflies loose in my tummy. That is until I hear his next words. “Listen, the drummer I’m filling in for still isn’t up to performing. Would you be okay if I stayed on for the Atlanta concerts and possibly Charleston, too?”
I infuse my voice with an enthusiasm I don’t feel, so James doesn’t hear my disappointment. “Of course! What a great opportunity!”
“You sure? I hate leaving you for so long.”
“I’m sure. Promise.”
“How’s our boy doing?”
My heart swells. Our boy. Oh, how I wish James had meant that literally.
“Westie Bestie is great. He’s smiling more, and nothing makes me happier than seeing his sweet little gummy smile.”
“If you can, get it on video for me.”
“I’ll try my best.”
“Thanks. I’ve gotta run. Sound check is about to start.”
Four days later, and I’m bored.
So bored.
I have only Weston to talk to, and besides his jabbering, he’s not much of a conversationalist yet.
Almost makes me wish that Josh would come back to visit. Almost, but not quite.
Besides being bored, I’m also lonely and down in the dumps and in need of a job.
Originally, James was scheduled to come back home yesterday, but since his time with Charlie’s tour got extended, he won’t be back for several more days.
James sounded excited about staying out on the road for a few more dates, but I miss him.
I miss him more than I expected, and my heart squeezes at that thought.
For all his quietness, James has a steady strength I’ve come to depend on.
He cares for Weston as if he were his own, and…
God, I miss having James here strutting around the house in his tight T-shirts and backward baseball cap, smelling like sunshine, leather, and every blue-collar dream I never knew I had.
Snapping my fingers, I hop up from the couch and pad toward the guest room that I hardly ever go into since I prefer to sleep on the bed in Weston’s nursery. Well, truth be told, I prefer to sleep in James’ bed, but I moved back into the nursery when James left on tour.
While I sleep in the nursery, all my boxes that were in Big Bertha are stacked up in the corner of an unused guest room, still waiting to be unpacked.
And today, I’m bored enough to complete this tedious chore.
It will give me something to do, and I’ll find my vibrator.
Win-win. After pining away for James for the past ten days, I am in desperate need of another orgasm.
The first several boxes are filled with clothes, wrinkled from all the times I’ve rifled through them to grab something quickly. I take them to the laundry room since they don’t smell fresh after being packed in cardboard for months.
My favorite pink cowboy boots, which Nana gave me for my sixteenth birthday, are at the bottom of the following box.
I’ve worn these boots for every major occasion since—high school graduation, every birthday, and even Nana’s funeral.
I got a few looks for wearing hot pink boots to a funeral, but I know Nana would have approved.
After dusting them off, I set them aside to wear sometime soon.
Finally, when I open the sixth box, I find the Holy Grail.
My Aphrodite Personal Massager 3.0.
After I figured out that most men care more about getting themselves off than me, I spent three days of tip money to buy this Rolls Royce of vibrators.
Hitting the power button, I’m surprised when it buzzes to life.
Even after months without being used, my vibrator is still more reliable than any of my ex-boyfriends ever were.
Which is a good thing because I haven’t unpacked the charging cord for it yet.
Glancing at my phone to see the time, I realize I should have at least an hour before Weston wakes up from his afternoon nap.
Since becoming a mother, feeling sexy has slipped out of reach. Most days, I’m so sleep-deprived that finding the energy to shower feels like a victory, much less reconnecting with my sensuality. But that middle-of-the-night experience with James has reawakened my libido.
Having had only one orgasm in the last many months, I know it won’t take long to get myself off, but I don’t want to rush it. I want to relax and enjoy it. So, I give in to the naughty temptation to take this time for myself and to embrace the experience.
Leaving the guestroom, I stride into James’ bedroom and pull the curtains closed, drowning out the sunlight to set the mood.
I pull up a playlist of slow songs on my new phone and then I remove my clothes, one article of clothing at a time.
I close my eyes, pretending James is in the room watching my striptease.
My blood grows warmer as soon as I imagine he’s here with me, and my fingers flutter across my skin.
I settle my naked body onto the middle of his bed with my legs spread wide and my vibrator nestled at the apex of my thighs.
But before I turn it on again, I have an idea.
I jog back to the guest room, grab my lucky boots, and tug them on.
I’m not sure what compels me to do it, but wearing them as I reclaim this part of myself feels right.
Naked except for the hot pink boots, I strut back to James’s room and collapse onto his bed, breathing in the scent still lingering in the sheets. His aroma alone is an aphrodisiac.
If I can’t enjoy the bad boy himself, I’ll fantasize about him. I flip my vibrator on, placing it against my clit. The buzzing noise starts, and my eyes close as pleasure floods my body.
My free hand comes up to my breast, gently playing with the nipple as my hips start twitching. Warmth spreads down my spine, and my breathing quickens.
A low, long moan leaves my lips.
“Oh, God. It feels so good!” I whimper aloud, imagining it’s James between my legs.
That it’s his hand on my breast and his fingers strumming my clit like he did that one time.
I imagine how exquisite it would feel to have his cock stretching me, thrusting into me in a rhythm punishing enough to make me see stars as he calls me his good girl.
I envision him looming over me, trapping me under his hard body. As my orgasm looms closer to the surface, my senses come alive. I can practically feel the weight of James’ eyes on me, and for a split second, his intoxicating scent grows stronger.
My fingers walk down my body, from my breast to between my thighs, and I slide two fingers inside myself.
I’m so wet that they glide in and out with sticky, squelching noises.
Hitting the button on my vibrator to increase the intensity, my legs snap shut around my hands and my back arches off the bed.
And then my body convulses in ecstasy as I come shouting James’ name.