Chapter Ten Vivian
Chapter Ten
Vivian
I close my eyes. I love the feel of his hands threading into my hair, guiding me as he thrusts gently into my mouth.
There are a handful of random things I’m very good at.
Playing “YMCA” on the harmonica.
Doing tricks with a yo-yo—thank you to that guy in the ill-fitting tuxedo who visited my middle school to put on a show back in the day.
And blow jobs.
I prefer a blow job over the other two, with the right man of course.
There is nothing more incredible than the power I feel when I’m on my knees. Especially in a moment like this one. I open my eyes, finding Memphis’s eyes locked on what I’m doing, his lips parted, his pupils blown. There’s a reverence on his face, like he can barely believe what’s happening. Like he’d do absolutely anything to prolong the pleasure I’m giving to him.
I reach out and take his balls into the palm of one hand and wrap my other around the base of his dick, tugging on one and stroking the other.
His eyes close again, and he groans, his hip movements becoming more erratic as I change up my timing and tempo.
I revel in it.
In the way I make him lose that tightly wound control so quickly.
In how his hands keep moving, like he doesn’t know exactly what to do with them.
In the deep, tortured noises falling from his mouth.
“You keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” he says, pulling his dick from my mouth. “And I have other plans before I want that to happen.”
That sounds promising.
He pulls me back up so I’m standing and slowly tugs off my top. He eyes my breasts for a long beat before he stoops and takes one nipple into his mouth, then the other. Then he squats and pulls down my shorts and panties in one motion, before guiding me back on the bed.
“Time to taste this pretty pussy,” he growls, tugging my ass to the edge and settling between my legs, one resting on each shoulder.
His tongue slips through my folds, leaving no nerve untouched, before he spreads my lips with one hand, slides a finger inside me from the other, and then pulses his tongue against my clit.
Apparently, Memphis Hawthorne is also good at many things.
And while I can’t name off something odd like yodeling or tap dancing, I can say with great conviction that Memphis knows how to go down on a woman.
I’m overwhelmed by sensation, by an almost immediate, desperate need to come.
But I can’t, because Memphis has taken me straight to the edge of oblivion and then held me there.
“Memphis,” I whimper, digging my fingers into the chestnut locks that fall a little messily around his head. “Oh my god, Memphis, I can’t ...”
He growls again, the noise vibrating through me, before stopping completely and standing tall above me.
I tug at my nipples, feeling empty and needy and almost frantic, as he tugs a condom from his wallet and slides it on.
Then he’s there, hovering over me, his mouth back at mine and his cock gently pulsing at my entrance. His tongue spars with mine, and I don’t doubt at all that in this moment, he’s teasing me. Drawing this out as long as possible.
Finally, finally, he slides inside me in one smooth movement, and both of us moan at the sensation.
“Jesus, being inside you ...,” he says, though he trails off, his mouth dropping to my neck. He sucks and licks at the tender skin as he slowly fucks into me.
My hands slide along his back as he thrusts, gripping the expanse of warm skin, loving the feeling of his muscles bunching and shifting. I desperately want to touch him.
After a few moments, he pulls back and lifts one of my legs. His thrusts become faster and harder. His eyes flit back and forth between the place where our bodies are joined, my tits that are bouncing with the force, and my eyes that are surely clouded with lust.
Little flickers begin to flutter through my body from the place he’s hitting inside me, over and over again, until that kindling finally catches, lighting me on fire from the inside out.
“I’m coming,” I tell him, surprised at how quickly it has come over me, my pussy clamping down as my body goes rigid.
“Yeah, you are,” he says, continuing to hammer into me. “And so am I.” And then he cries out, his movements halting as he’s racked with the same pleasure I’m coming down from.
A moment later, he collapses next to me on the bed, panting heavily, his eyes closed and a relaxed look on his face.
I love the little dimple in his cheek, the one that shows up when he smiles, and apparently when he comes.
“That was pretty spectacular,” I say, twisting my legs together. The last faint flutters of my orgasm hum through my body. Then I pat him on the stomach, twice. “You did okay, too.”
His head jerks to look in my direction, and then he chuckles and covers his face with his hands.
“The shit you say.”
I giggle. “I give it an eight out of ten,” I tell him, still panting. “Mostly because I told you I wanted to ride you and you commandeered the whole thing.”
Memphis grins at me. “What is this? Yelp?” he says with a laugh, before his tone grows serious. “Impressed by the individualized attention to detail, even if I had to receive service after hours. Decent orgasm with a side of laughter. Four stars. I mean, what is that?”
I roll to my side as I cackle at his interpretation, wrapping my arms around my middle and turning my face into the bedding to muffle my laughter.
Thankfully, he’s laughing, too. When I finally snag his gaze again, I see something there that’s soft and friendly. So at odds with the normally obstinate, argumentative Memphis that I’ve interacted with so far.
“You are ... unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” he tells me, a bemused look on his face.
“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment,” I reply.
Then I kiss him, thinking it’ll be a prelude to a quick goodbye. But when I pull back, his hand cupping the back of my neck stops me. He tugs me back in for a kiss that is much deeper than I expected.
Eventually, it slows, and when I pull back this time I see something else on his face.
Surprise.
Then he’s pushing out of the bed and standing, grabbing his jeans off the floor.
“I’m gonna head out.”
I smile, knowing exactly where his head has gone. “Drive safe,” I tell him, also standing from the bed. “I’m gonna hop in the shower, so ... you can let yourself out, right?”
Memphis pauses as he’s tugging his pants on, but then he nods. “Yeah.”
“All right, well ... Thanks. And if you want my honest review, it was a five-star night,” I say, winking and then slipping into the bathroom. I quickly shut the door and turn on the water, giving it a chance to heat up.
I don’t know what that was, at the end—how our casual banter became something more tender and sweet—but I can tell it unnerved Memphis. I figured the best thing I could do in that moment was make sure he knew I wasn’t expecting anything from him.
He doesn’t need to stay or give excuses for wanting to leave. We both know exactly what this is. A booty call. A no-strings fling. A chance for us to slake the lust that we seem to boil over with every time we’re within a hundred yards of each other.
I’m not going to lie to myself and pretend like I don’t feel really deep things when we’re together.
I absolutely do.
I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t feel the very big, very powerful emotions that come along with being physically intimate. It’s in our nature.
But those emotions belong in one place—on paper, translated into musical notes and lyrics, ultimately becoming songs that people can relate to. Once purged from my soul, my writing has helped me work through some of the biggest, craziest emotional ups and downs in my life.
I’m not interested in allowing any of the emotions that sex with Memphis inspires to take over my life. Or my mind. Or—god forbid—my heart.
I spend the next two days with my guitar glued to my hip, music sheets spread out in front of me, covered in notes and scribbles and arrows indicating changes and moved words or stanzas.
The creative muse is still speaking, and I have kept my mind open, ready to receive whatever comes my way.
But every creative process requires breaks, and I take one of those on Friday evening when I join Errol for some gelato and cinema at the last Summer Movie in the Park.
I had originally planned to ask Murphy, but she’s still out of town. So when my sweet new friend asked if I was still planning to go, I knew immediately that Errol would be the perfect date.
“Thanks so much for coming with me,” I tell him as we take a seat at one of the picnic benches next to two teenagers who look like they’re on a first date. “I really wanted to come, but I was worried that it might be just for locals.”
Errol swats at the air between us. “Nothing is only for locals. It’s for the people who care enough to attend. But if you want to, you can consider me your ticket in.”
I grin, then scoop another bite of raspberry gelato into my mouth. “Do you know what movie they’re showing?”
He shakes his head. “No idea. I always assume it’s something for kids.”
I take in the children that are everywhere, then laugh. “I think you might be right.”
“So tell me ... What’s a beautiful young woman like you doing traveling to wine country alone? I would have thought you’d have a hunky guy with you.”
I wrinkle my nose. “There was a guy. But not anymore.”
He hums softly. “Sounds like you might still be a little upset about it?”
“He cheated on me,” I say, kind of blurting it out. “So, I’m upset about what happened, but I’m glad that it ended ... if that makes sense.”
Errol nods. “It does. So that’s why you’re on this trip alone? To get away?”
“Yeah. I mean, I’m working. But really, I wanted to leave it all behind and try to give myself a chance to breathe.”
He gives me a sympathetic look and pats my hand. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I shrug. “It is what it is. He wasn’t right for me, and I’m glad we didn’t have to go any longer without me realizing it.”
“I’m glad you’re keeping positive.”
“What about you?” I ask, turning my body around so I’m leaning back against the picnic table, my legs stretched out on the grass. “You have a lady love?”
He mentioned a wife and used past tense language, so I’m not surprised when his smile grows reflective.
“Oh, I had the greatest lady love,” he says. “Norma was my best friend. That’s how love’s supposed to be. Someone you can tell your secrets to.”
My lips tilt up, and I wish I knew what that was like. My parents were the only example of love I had growing up, and they shouldn’t serve as an example to anyone. They only gave off the appearance of being in love when they were around other people, but at home, it was mostly silence, each of them seemingly lost in their own personal world.
Part of me considered for a brief time that maybe Theo and I would be different, though I couldn’t have been more wrong. We ended up becoming younger versions of them, every interaction so exhausting that we simply avoided it as much as we could.
“She’s been gone a few years now,” he continues, drawing me back. His gaze grows distant. “It was her idea to refurbish the firehouse into an inn, and it took us several years to get it done right. She loved everything about it.”
“Norma sounds like a smart woman. She had a job she loved and a husband she loved even more. I hope to be that lucky someday.”
He hums and pats my hand again, his skin soft and warm. “You will, sweetheart. You will.”
I can only hope he’s right.
We chat for a bit longer, and Errol asks lots of questions about me being a singer. He’s very excited for me when he hears about Humble Roads, Todd, and that I’m recording an album soon.
But once the movie begins, he tells me he needs to call it a night.
“I’m not the spry thing I once was,” he jokes. “These old bones need to be getting into bed soon.”
“I’ll join you on the walk back.”
I start to get up, but he waves in protest. “No, no, no. You stay and enjoy yourself. Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a new hunky beau, huh?”
I laugh, giving Errol a wave as he walks slowly to the concrete path and then off in the direction of the Firehouse.
I leave the picnic table and head over to the food truck in the corner to grab a little bag of popcorn. Then I settle on the grassy area facing the screen that’s hanging between the center posts of the gazebo.
The movie is a children’s movie, though not one I’m familiar with. I only half watch it. Instead, my mind drifts to the last outdoor movie night I went to. With Theo.
We’d only been dating for a few months, and he took me on a date to a rooftop theater in downtown LA. They were showing My Fair Lady , which I love . And I remember thinking to myself that this guy really got me. That he understood my interest in theater and music and performance in general. It kind of cemented for me that I was into him, since it made me think he had more range than the kind of bro-ey dates we’d been on so far—sports bars and nightclubs and the like.
It was almost a year later that I found out he’d taken me there on accident. That, originally, we were supposed to get dinner at the sports bar in the same building, but that I’d been so excited about the movie, he’d kind of gone with it.
I hadn’t been surprised when I found that out. It actually made a lot of sense. It clarified a few things for me that I was struggling to understand.
God, I wish I’d called things off sooner. Wish I’d taken the time to really reflect on how things were between us before I let them get so bad that they turned into the disaster they became.
I try to be a direct, honest person in my day-to-day life. But for whatever reason, when it came to Theo, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face what our relationship had become. We were roommates with a large number of overlapping friends who, occasionally, had mediocre, half-assed sex.
But neither of us really cared anymore. About our relationship. About the lives we had that barely involved each other.
So I guess, in the end, it makes sense that everything fell apart.
I stay for the whole movie, even though my thoughts are too busy for me to latch on to much of the story. After, I take a slow, meandering walk back to the Firehouse.
Only once I’ve kicked off my shoes and flopped onto the couch in the corner of my room do I realize I have a text.
Murphy: I’m back! Did you miss me?
I grin, replying immediately.
Me: Desperately. How was SF?
Murphy: Great, actually. Wes’s mom decided to go to rehab, so we were there helping her get set up.
Me: Wow, that’s a big deal, right?
I don’t know anything about Wes’s family, but anything to do with rehab has to mean someone’s trying. Making the effort. And that’s really all you can hope for.
Murphy: It is. I’ll tell you more about it later, for sure.
Me: Awesome.
Murphy: But I wanted to invite you over for family dinner on Sunday. It’s the night before the harvest begins and it’ll be a lot of fun.
I consider it, wondering if it’s a good idea.
Not because I don’t want to see Murphy. Obviously, I want time with my friend. But because if it’s family dinner, my assumption is that Memphis will be there.
And as much as I enjoy yanking Memphis’s chain, now that we’ve hooked up a couple of times, it might be a little too much for me to constantly be in his space. Which is basically what I’ve been doing since I got here, even if it wasn’t entirely intentional.
I smirk.
Except for the vineyard tour. That was intentional as fuck.
Me: Are you sure I won’t be intruding?
Murphy: What? Definitely not. It’ll be like, thirty people. We have a big dinner and we play games and it’s this huge thing. You’ll love it.
My eyes grow wide when I see how many people will be there. I know nothing about harvest time at a vineyard except that it’s when all the grapes get picked. But I guess it makes sense that there will be more people to help with the job.
And if there are tons of people, it’ll be easier to avoid Memphis.
Not that I want to.
I want nothing more than for us to fall into bed again.
Or fuck in a supply room closet.
Or maybe in the back of a car.
I don’t actually care where it happens. I just know that it’s the best sex I’ve ever had, and it’s clearly having a positive influence on my music. So I’m not ready to give it up after two times.
So. It’s settled once I text Murphy back. I’ll go to the dinner. I’ll mostly ignore Memphis to make sure he has plenty of space.
And then I’ll proposition him for sex.
I smirk and roll my eyes at myself.
Perfect.