8. Is Kayleigh Going To Massage Her Stepbrother?!
IS KAYLEIGH GOING TO MASSAGE HER STEPbrOTHER?!
MARY KATE
Steep & Stone is barely a coffee shop, more like a long corridor with a counter jammed in at one end and four mismatched booths lining the window.
From the street, the windows are filmed with steam and the light inside is a bruised honey, barely filtering through the grime and the posters for poetry slams and lost cats.
It’s just past three and the snow on University Avenue is melting fast, thick with road salt and dog piss, slush puddling around the curbs and the legs of the tables inside.
I push through the door, letting the last skin of cold air slap the back of my neck, and immediately spot Kayleigh in the farthest booth, her feet kicked up onto the cracked vinyl bench.
She’s halfway through a blueberry muffin, crumbs scattered like birdseed across the table, and her hair is up in a loose bun, the way she does it when she doesn’t want to look like she’s trying.
There’s an empty mug at her elbow, a refill already cooling next to it.
When she sees me, her eyes go wide and bright, as if she’s been waiting for this exact moment all week.
“Jesus, MK, you look like a ghost. Come here,” she calls, and pats the spot across from her with both hands. “I need this story so bad I’ve been vibrating all afternoon.”
I slide in, dragging my bag after me, and shake the snow from my sleeves. My own face stares back at me from the mirror behind the counter, with full pink cheeks and sparkling blue eyes. I look like I’m glowing, which I basically am, ever since my naughty encounters with Kent.
“Sorry,” I say, not sure why I’m apologizing. “Class went long. Then some asshole hit the bus shelter with a Toyota, so the route was all fucked up.”
Kayleigh waves this away. “You’re here now. That’s what counts.”
The waitress shuffles over, sets down a chipped mug, and asks if I want “the usual.” I say yes, even though I can’t remember what that is, and she returns two minutes later with a latte in a paper cup and a square of something labeled “vegan lemon bar.” I thank her and wrap both hands around the cup, trying to draw some warmth back into my bones.
Kayleigh waits until the waitress is out of range, then leans in, elbows denting the sticky table. “Okay. Spill. I’m dying. Did you do it?”
I glance around the shop. Two grad students at the next booth are deep in a debate about climate change, one of them speaking in loud, deliberate bursts as if the world is a TED talk.
The barista is arguing with her boyfriend on the phone.
No one here is going to care about what we’re saying, but I lower my voice anyway.
“I did,” I say. “Last night. Like you told me to.”
Kayleigh’s eyes go huge. “The massage? You actually went through with it?”
I nod, cheeks prickling. I take a sip of the latte. It’s too hot, but I let it burn, let it force something else to the surface. “Twice now. He had it all set up. Massage table, oil, everything. He even explained the anatomy to me first, like I was prepping for a quiz.”
My best friend’s face is a study in slow-blooming scandal. “Wait, wait—back up. He was naked? Like totally, or with a towel around his…?”
I nod.
“Totally. He just stripped right in front of me. He didn’t even try to make it medical. He just did it, and girl, Kent is H-O-T. That man works out like a fiend and is ripped like a gladiator.”
Kayleigh drops her chin into her hands, eyes fixed on my face. “But did you see it? Like, all of it?”
I stifle a laugh, even as the flush rises higher. “What do you think? I was supposed to massage his balls. Of course I saw it.”
She grins, a predatory little thing. “How big?”
I choke on my coffee. “Kayleigh! That’s not—”
“It’s exactly the point!” she says, barely keeping her voice down. “Was it like, huge? Was he hard?”
I want to lie, to downplay it, but the words come out in a rush. “He was enormous. I mean, it was. He was totally hard, even before I started. I think it was on purpose.”
Kayleigh’s jaw drops a little, muffin forgotten. “He wanted you to see. Oh my god. This is so much better than anything on Pornhub.”
The words shock a laugh out of me. I feel the tension start to slide away, replaced by a fizzing, weird glee. Maybe I want to be the main character in someone’s dirty story.
“It gets worse,” I say, voice soft. “I touched his cock. At first, maybe a little by accident, but it was so huge and veiny, and he’d jerk when I brushed against it. Then, I touched him on purpose. And he didn’t stop me. He wanted me to.”
Kayleigh’s whole body vibrates. “No. Fucking. Way. Did you stroke it? Fist it, even?”
“A little, yeah,” I admit, eyes darting to the window.
Crowds go by, unaware that we’re having an illicit conversation.
“It was so sexy, Kay. Kent is at least ten inches, and I kept massaging his balls while stroking his shaft. Then he came. Like, a lot lot, and it spurted all over, creamy and yummy. It got on my chin.”
She claps a hand over her mouth, and her laughter is so loud the grad students glance over, then immediately back to their own world. “MK! You got jizz on your face on the first try?”
I shrug, feeling my ears go molten. “It’s not like I planned it. He came so hard I thought he was going to pass out.”
Kayleigh’s grin is now a full-force, teeth-bared smile. “Did you taste it?”
I open my mouth, then close it. The heat that surges through me is not all embarrassment. “Yeah. I mean—” I pause, watching the steam curl from my cup. “He wiped the come off my chin and then put his finger in my mouth and I tasted it.”
Kayleigh lets out a squeal then.
“Oh my god! You dirty bitch!”
I smile secretively. “I know, right?”
She leans in so close I can smell her perfume, some bright, sugary thing. “But what did it taste like? I read with old guys it can be really gross, like sour and bitter because they’re pre-diabetic and out of shape. Was it like that?”
I consider this. “Not at all. Kent’s semen was sweet and salty, with a creamy flavor that I loved. Not even a little gross. Just… yummy.”
Kayleigh sits back, arms folded, a look of deep satisfaction on her face. “That’s the hottest thing I’ve heard all month.”
I can’t help but smile, my own body thrumming with the aftershock of it all. “I thought I’d be disgusted. But I wasn’t. I kind of want to do it again.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Like, a taste test? For science?”
I giggle, lowering my head. “Yeah, because Kent eats so much fruit. Like, bowls of it at a time, and fruit is supposed to influence how a man’s semen tastes. So it has to be the copious amounts of strawberries he consumes.”
Kayleigh nods, finger tapping her chin. “That checks out. Strawberries and pineapple are supposed to be uber-effective. I saw a TikTok about it.”
We sit in the booth, the air around us thick with the warmth of the radiators and the scent of burnt espresso.
I try to picture Kent as someone else might see him: not my stepdad, but a man, forty-five, jawline like a superhero, hands big enough to palm a basketball, his chest massive and muscled, his cock standing at a full ten inches.
The thought makes me shiver, but it’s not the cold.
“So,” Kayleigh says, voice sly. “What’s next? Is there a round two?”
I pretend to consider, but the answer is already locked behind my ribs. “He wants me to do it every night. Like, as therapy.”
She whistles, low. “That’s a lot of therapy, babe.”
“Is it wrong?” I ask, the question barely audible even to myself.
Kayleigh shrugs, all mischief. “Who cares? You’re both adults. Plus, he’s not your real dad.”
“Yeah, but—”
She interrupts, “But nothing. Do you want to keep doing it?”
I stare at the coffee, my reflection distorted in the swirl of foam. “I think I do. Is that insane?”
She smiles, softer this time. “MK, you’re allowed to want what you want.”
For a long time we just sit, the silence between us padded and safe.
The espresso machine lets out a blast of steam, the sound rolling through the shop like a wave.
I think about last night, about the smell of sandalwood and the way Kent orgasmed beneath my fingers.
I loved knowing that I had so much control over a powerful alpha male.
I loved how he looked at me after too, not as a kid or a daughter, but as something he needed and absolutely craved.
“Do you remember the virginity bet?” I say, not quite looking at her.
Kayleigh laughs, sharp and sweet. “Of course I do. We just talked about it last time, remember? Both you and I still have our v-cards.”
“I know,” I say softly. “I think I’m ready though. I want to lose it, and I want it to be with him.”
Kayleigh pauses, a little more serious. “Well, you’re definitely headed in that direction. I mean, I don’t think Kent’s going to say no to you.”
I nod, thoughtful.
“But it’s more than that. I want it to be real, and for it to mean something, and I think with Kent it could be really special.”
This makes Kayleigh pause and frown.
“But you know it’s not going to be like that, right?
MK, I don’t mean to rain on your parade, but you’re dealing with an older man here.
A much-older man with a lot more experience, who’s established and settled.
He has responsibilities, and not only that, but your stepdad can probably get any woman he wants, including your mom.
I’m not sure that there’s so much emotion in it for him. It’s more casual for him.”
The words make my heart hurt, and I wonder if she means it or if she’s trying to hurt me. But I nod.
“Yeah, I know what you’re saying. I mean, I have so little to offer to Kent. Don’t worry, I’m not going to get attached. No way.”
Kayleigh’s next words are supportive. “Good, that’s my girl. But you want to taste him again, don’t you?”
I blush, but I don’t look away. “I do.”
She nods.
“That’s fine, then. I mean, as long as you know what you’re getting into, MK.
He sees you as a hot piece of pussy, excuse my words, that’s going to be the source of hot sex and good times.
He’s not emotionally invested, girlfriend.
You know he’s not. Divorced dudes who are forty-five are just out for something temporary and fun. ”
I nod slowly, although inside, I’m hurt. Is it true? Does Kent just see me as a temporary plaything, a beautiful body to derive pleasure from now that he’s no longer married to my mom? I slump in my chair, my mood suddenly dull. I know Kayleigh is right, and yet I don’t want to believe it.
But my pretty friend tries to cheer me up. “Text me tonight. You’re seeing him, right? I want a full report.”
I promise I will, and I mean it.
She slips on her jacket, then turns, a sly smile on her lips. “You know,” she says, “if you ever want to do a taste comparison, my stepbrother’s coming to town. Maybe I can get him to eat a ton of fruit too, and we could compare notes.”
I choke on my latte, sputtering a laugh. “Maybe we should start a database. We’ll refer to all the different guys with code names.”
Kayleigh winks, and then giggles.
“Well, I’m only interested in one man, and as far as I can tell, so are you. So the code names wouldn’t be useful. Toodle-oo! I’ll see you soon!”
Then, my friend heads out of the cafe and disappears down the sidewalk, leaving the shop a little emptier.
I finish my drink, watching the city blur past the glass, and wonder if anyone else in this place has ever felt the things I’m feeling now: guilt, anticipation, a secret kind of hunger that makes every day worth waking up for.
Tonight, I’ll do it again. Not because I have to, but because I want to. I love being with Kent, and I adore the intimacy that we share.
Maybe it’s wrong, but maybe that’s the only thing that matters.