I like her moving around my place. #3
Once, she paid over six hundred dollars she’d saved for a year on a Taylor Swift ticket, which she gave to Mara for her birthday .
When she was six, she fell off her scooter and got three stitches in her knee.
If you look closely, there’s a fleck of emerald swimming in the rich chocolate of her left iris.
She cries when she reads poetry by Lucille Clifton.
If she could watch any movie on repeat, it would be Sleepless in Seattle.
“Yeah, I guess that’s true. Except for Atti and Beau. They hang out all the time.”
I bet I know Delane better than Atti and Beau know each other, and they’ve got a handful of years on us.
“Yeah, they’re the exception,” I say, driving the sharpened knife through the meat, cutting thin strips that I toss into the wok. I wash my hands again, then season the mix.
“You don’t have to stay in the cage,” she says, rerouting the conversation back to where it started.
“But it could be good for you.” She shrugs, picking a piece of bell pepper out of the container before snapping the lid back on for me.
“If you stay in and didn’t have the distraction of that thing,” she grins, nodding toward my crotch, “do you think that would help you focus on your head and stay on top of all the shit that creeps in?”
I push a wooden spatula through the cooking stir fry and dodge a burst of steam that drifts up from the wok. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, if you don’t have access to jerking off or worrying about your dick–” she holds up a hand to stop me from protesting– “and don’t say you don’t worry about your dick because I’ve listened to enough books to know that all men are constantly worried about their dick.”
We share a laugh, and as chaste as I unfortunately am, I don’t argue her point.
“So if it’s off the table, do you think you’d do better at talking yourself out of those moments of feeling embarrassed and insecure? It can literally be your main focus.”
Uncomfortable but fighting it for her, I scratch my stomach as I think out loud. “Well, as we discovered tonight, the cage doesn’t keep me from finishing.”
“Cumming,” she deadpans, dark eyes locked on mine, a smirk curling her lips.
“Cumming,” I repeat, loving how her cheeks pinken and her smile broadens. “But,” I say, pointing the spatula toward her. “Not having it as a concern will free up mental space; that part is true.”
“Think you can really get on your own case to not talk down to yourself?” she asks, voice dipping into tender territory.
“The way you get embarrassed… I mean, I understand a little bit about how you grew up so I know a lot of it is just… muscle memory. But.. You deserve to live without that embarrassment making choices for you.”
I don’t know what to say to that because that’s… surprisingly astute. Not surprising that she’s sharp, but rather because I’ve never had my issues simplified for me that way.
I’ve never told Delane how I feel or asked her out because I’ve been too scared she’d turn me down. I couldn’t live with that humiliation and embarrassment.
And with dating and women—I haven’t been waiting for Delane.
I’ve tried to date women. I’m just… crippled by the embarrassment of my truth.
Being a virgin both sexually and emotionally has always been…
hard for me to come to terms with. Not only have I been missing out, but I wasn’t even taught to handle these experiences.
I wear a thick coat of self-loathing because of it.
“How are you so confident?” I ask, but reword it for fear of her taking that the wrong way. “I mean, you’re confident because you’re brilliant and gorgeous, obviously. ”
I add sauce to the wok and keep stirring, waiting for her to answer, but she isn’t. Glancing, I do a double take and can’t escape the way her eyes fix on mine.
“Brilliant and gorgeous?” she repeats, her legs no longer swaying from side to side against the cabinets.
I turn off the wok, cutting half the noise between us instantly.
“And so much more.”
She swallows, her eyes following me as I slide a hand up her knee, over her thigh, and step between her legs. We’re close, and I don’t know if I’m breathing hard or she is, but my vision blurs a bit from how fast my heart is racing.
“Yeah?” she croaks quietly.
“Fuck yeah,” I ground out, reaching above her to grab two plates off the shelf.
Her eyes widen. “Miller.” The way her hands fall to my hips, clinging, sinking into me like she’s been dying to hold me— “you don’t curse.”
I can’t help it; I look down at my waist on each side where she’s clutching me before looking up at her. “I didn’t ,” I correct. Holding the plates between us, I add, “But it’s time for a change, I guess.”
Her hands fall away when I hand a plate to her. “Dish up,” I say with a smile. She slides down from the counter, and we stand hip to hip as she scoops veggies and chicken onto her plate, our hands brushing as she passes me the slotted spoon. Every little touch with her is electric.
The chastity contraption, while foreign to me before, has ended up being a good idea. Because all this close proximity with Delane? I’d be awkwardly shielding my crotch or saying, “give me a sec,” every time I needed to stand.
We sit across from one another at my small kitchen table, sliding my metal water jug back and forth to share sips. I like the way all of this feels with her, and each healthy serving of happiness I’m getting tonight is coming with an unwanted side of anxiety.
Because we have an end, and I want to avoid it at all costs.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks around a bite of chicken. She points the tines of her fork at her plate, adding, “Miller, this is fucking bomb. Seriously.”
I push a piece of chicken into a bell pepper. “I was just… thinking about how much I like having you here,” I admit, my pulse cranking a million miles a minute at the most real admission I’ve ever made. “And thanks. It’s nothing special. I think the key is fresh veggies.”
She smiles, chewing slowly now while her eyes lazily hover on mine.
When she swallows, she says, “yeah, fresh veggies are better than frozen, for sure.” And though she doesn’t address the first part of my comment, so much of me really believes she feels the same.
Or maybe that’s just my unabashed hopes.
We eat and we talk, and those two things are so simple but never before have they felt so…
romantic. We talk about Delane’s younger sister Mara and her competitive karate.
She tells me about Art’s back and how the disc issue seems to be getting much worse in recent months.
Then we go through a list of movies that the world collectively agrees to be the best but that we don’t like.
Around ten at night, we decide the next thing she’s going to tackle–with my help, basic but important- changing air filters.
Knowing that her car hasn’t had them changed, probably ever, we plan to get to Kings a little early Monday so we can do the swap.
About to walk her down, Delane tucks a curl behind her ear, then tugs her purse up her arm.
“You don’t mind getting in a little early?”
I roll my eyes which earns a hearty laugh from her.
The type of laugh that makes you laugh, too, because it’s so genuine and deep.
“First you said fuck, and now you’re rolling your eyes,” she giggles, pressing her hand to her nose to catch the wild laughter that keeps coming.
“I’m a bad influence! At this rate, you’ll be Atti in a few weeks. ”
I lean in, and I don’t try to smell her, but her flowery scent overtakes my senses, and say in my best Atticus Winters impression, “There ain’t no way I’m turnin’ into him.”
She roars with laughter again. “I had no idea you were good at impressions.”
Laughing, I scratch at my chest bone. “I didn’t either. I’ve never tried until now.” Her laughter slows, and she smiles up at me.
“Tonight’s a first of many, then, huh?”
“I guess so.”
We stand there, two inches apart, icy air wafting inside through the crack in the door as we smile at one another.
I want to kiss her goodbye so much, but instead, I motion her out and walk her down to her car.
We part ways, and I stay in the snow until her taillights are nothing but a rouge blur in the distance.
Tonight did hold a lot of firsts for me. The first time I’d been physically exposed to another human being aside from my doctor.
And of all the firsts—orgasming in front of someone, wearing a chastity cage, having my most private area touched, licked, and teased—the truth is, my favorite first was just having an evening with the woman I’m pretty sure I love.