Chapter 7
Cecilia
The teenage boys who’ve kept the corner booth occupied for the last two hours finally leave. Maybe I’ll survive this late shift after all.
Past experiences have taught me to keep my expectations low regarding a tip.
It’s not that they don’t tip a solid fifteen percent, it’s that they only order drinks, expect constant refills as if they’re pissing in their boots to make room for more, and stay for hours.
They create the highest amount of work for the lowest payoff.
But they’re gone now. The diner is empty, and there’s little chance anyone else will come in. It’s just me, not even the cook. We offer a limited menu after ten—things I can warm up. That’s the good thing about this shift.
I clear the table, tuck the local real estate magazine they were looking at into my apron, and wipe down the booth. Their idea to buy property with a lake and turn it into their personal man camp was hysterical.
With everything finished, I make myself comfortable in a booth so I can rest my aching feet and back. Time to plot my adventure with the dad bods. I suppose only Lennox has a dad bod, but no need to overcomplicate things.
Remembering Trena’s insistence that I have a goal, and a plan for how to reach it, makes me chuckle. She keeps me grounded, and I keep a fire lit under her. We’re a good balance for each other.
Wiggling the real estate magazine out of my apron strings, I flip pages and stop on an elaborately painted Victorian with an equally decorated picket fence. I’m definitely not a white-picket-fence kind of girl, but this one catches my eye.
What the hell? Since when do I look at real estate in this town? I slam the magazine closed. That’s not enough. I push it across the table. Better. It teeters on the edge then falls onto the seat. Perfect.
Shifting to lie down, I bring my knees up and let my eyes fall shut. I pretend I’m Trena. Which steps would I take to get to my goal? What did I even tell her my goal was?
Well crap—no idea other than it has to do with Lennox, Blake, and fun. Trena would draw a line down the center of a piece of paper and list pros and cons.
With zero desire to grab a pen and paper even though they’re in the apron wrapped around my waist, my mind takes me a different direction.
Why did I let my relationship with Henry drag on? Why did he?
Sex.
The answer makes me cringe. I’m pretty sure he was convinced I would eventually want to because I love having fun. I didn’t and wouldn’t—not with him.
Henry had more than most people our age. I’m not saying I want my parents to die so I can get their life insurance. It’s so twisted. Now that I think about it, Henry would have been a lot less fun without the boat, the convertible, the parties.
Besides, he made it clear he didn’t want to be strapped down, and I was fairly certain he’d put his money where his mouth was if a serious commitment—like a baby—ever presented itself.
Sex carries a lot of risks.
The irony is that his very life without a father was my worst nightmare. His mom always seemed tired, angry, and broke—things I never want to become.
An extra serving of irony hits me as I sprawl in a diner booth, tired, or rather exhausted. My anger over Henry cheating has dropped from a ten to an eight. And while I’m not broke, paying to raise a human would take care of that.
Basically, Henry was a fun friend, not dad material.
Lennox on the other hand—wow, that’s fucked-up that the man who was never there for Henry strikes me as dad material. Blake does too, even though I have no idea if either of them are family men.
Neither were wearing wedding rings.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I banish all thoughts of babies and picket fences. That’s the nice thing about daydreams, they don’t have to follow a logical progression, but it is time to stop thinking about either of them being dads.
My interest in them focuses on how fuckably hot they are. I imagine them holding me, their strong arms comforting me, but the fantasy doesn’t stay PG for long. My sex aches at the thought of them filling me.
Their hands would slide down my arms, take my hands, raise them over my head, and pin me against a wall.
Talk about going from zero to sexy.
They definitely seem like the type I’d like to ditch my virginity with.
Which of them would have the thicker cock and which would have the longer one? I imagine climbing on top of dad-bod Lennox and sliding onto his shaft. He’d try to flip us over, but I wouldn’t let him.
I’d give myself an orgasm on his cock then climb onto Blake who’s eagerly waiting because he’s a good boy. The tip of his erection dripped with pre-cum while he watched me fuck his friend.
I’d give myself an orgasm on my good boy, taking a little more time since my second one is always a little slower to build.
Then, once I was doubly satisfied, I’d let them do what they want with me.
Which means Trena might be right that my feelings are lust—if heart flutters and thoughts of the future are part of lust.
As I fall back into my fantasy, it feels like so much more than just wanting a good time. The closest I ever came to looking at real estate with Henry was when we broke into an abandoned house—just because we could.
Abandoned. That’s where thoughts of Henry belong. He doesn’t get any real estate in this daydream.
Where was I… oh yeah, weak from my orgasms.
Blake would pull me against his body and say, “Damn, Ceci, I can’t hold back when you tighten on me like that.”
Then he’d flip me onto my back, his cock filling me the entire time. He’d swell and shoot streams of cum into me. No pulling out. No fear. No condom. He’d say, “Lay here like a good girl while I get you pregnant.”
And I would.
And when he finally pulled out, Lennox would do—
I catch myself. That escalated quickly. Taking a breath, I open my eyes and roll my head to the side. Dammit, the real estate magazine flipped open to our colorful Victorian.
Our house? No! What is wrong with me?
I backtrack my thoughts, trying to figure out how I got there. Everything becomes clear. I know what I want from them—to teach me about sex. It’s safe and no-commitment. That’s all.
And while I don’t understand the whole breeding part of my fantasy, my breaths are heavy. My hand has run down between my legs. I’m going to run with it. My skirt bunches at my hips. My fingers press on my panties. So wet. So ready.
Bells ring.
Shit! That’s not part of the fantasy. It’s the bell over the entry.
A girl can’t catch a break. Annoyed, I sit up, smoothing my skirt, but take my time to open my eyes. “Welcome to Whispering Pines Diner. Sit wherever you want.”
Bad move.
By the time I’m upright, Henry is scooting onto the bench seat across from me.
“Leave,” I say bluntly.
“You can’t make me leave.” He picks up the magazine and tosses it onto the table. The damn Victorian.
“I have the right to refuse service to anyone.”
He reaches across the table for my hands, but I pull away and stand. He stares at the table. “Look Ceci, I get that you’re mad.”
That anger rating that had dropped to an eight is ratcheting to an eleven as I imagine some chick riding his dick, giving herself orgasms. Christ, what if he got her pregnant?
Reaching into my apron, I pull out my ordering pad, reach in again and find my pen, then click it, prepared to take his order. “You’re in a diner. Order something.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“Seems you wanted your dick to be in another woman. Oh wait! You already tried that.”
“Ceci, it’s not like that.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Could you hurry up and order something so I can spit in it?”
“I’ve been freaked out lately. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
The bell over the door dings. It’s probably for the best that I have a distraction before I do something that will get me fired.
Turning to greet the new customer, I nearly drop my notepad and pen. Lennox and Blake have entered the building. I should be in heaven.
I look at Henry. This is clearly hell.
They look as shocked to see Henry as he does to see them.
Lennox stares at his son and nods. “Hi…uh… Henry.” The poor dude sounds so awkward.
Shit, is this what Henry’s been freaked out about? Did he know his dad was coming to town? He didn’t say a word about it. Still, no excuse for cheating.
“Welcome to Whispering Pines Diner. Sit wherever you want.” I extend my hands wide.
Blake steps closer. “Let’s join the party.”
Lennox heads the opposite direction. “We’ll sit over here. Give them their privacy.”
Blake shrugs disappointedly and follows Lennox to the furthest table.
Henry slides out of the booth and passes me without a word. A few steps before the door, he addresses them. “Hate to break it to you, but her late-night special is that she spits.”
Lennox is out of the booth in a flash, catching Henry by the arm. “Do not talk about her like that.”
My heart does some kind of circus act in my chest.
Henry tries to shrug free and can’t until Lennox lets go, holds his hands up, and says, “Be respectful.”
“You’re one to give advice.” Henry shoves the door open.
“I told you, I didn’t even know your mom was pregnant!” Lennox yells as Henry disappears into the night.
I step closer, wanting to comfort Lennox like it would be the most natural thing in the world but stop myself.
“Damn he’s stubborn.” Lennox makes eye contact and quickly diverts his gaze.
I touch his arm. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. It’s completely inappropriate to be thinking about how much muscle I feel. The dad bod isn’t all cushion.
He sets a hand on mine. “You were his gir—What did his mom tell him about me?”
Lennox is so strong and so broken at the same time.
“Not much, said you left when she got pregnant.”
He pulls away and takes his seat in the booth with Blake. “She’s not wrong, just left out the clarifying factor that I didn’t know.”
I stand next to their table. “You really didn’t know about Henry?”
He shakes his head. “She could have called, texted, emailed.”
“I’m pretty sure she never mentioned that part to him.” I pause, getting the sense that this conversation is over, then tap my pen on my order pad. “Can I get you anything?”
“What was that about spitting?” Blake winks. “Not my preference, but I’d be willing to give it a try.”
I’m speechless. Is my plan really going to be this easy? Too bad Trena’s not here to witness the moment.
Lennox looks up, horrified. “Blake was joking. He’s sorry, aren’t you, Blake?”
Before Blake can regroup, I set my plan in motion, grateful Trena told me to have a goal. “Turns out I don’t really know if I’m a spit or swallow girlie.”
Lennox’s mouth drops open. Not a great look, but we’ll get past it.
Blake busts out laughing. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”
“What do you think I mean?” I lick my lips nervously then try to turn it into something sexy. I probably look rabid.
His chest expands with a deep breath. He and Lennox share a moment, mumbles, then Blake says, “You’ve never given a blow job?”
I boop him on the nose—no frosting this time. “Bingo. Next question goes to your friend.” I turn to Lennox, and say, “Want to guess what else I’ve never done?”
Lennox coughs.
Blake answers quickly as if it’s a contest. “You’ve never had sex?”
“You just like getting booped, don’t you?” I try to tap his nose again, but he catches my wrist like he did earlier.
“If that’s what you want to call it.” He brings my fingers to his lips and kisses the tips.
I’m not sure how I’m still standing. My very recent fantasies aren’t helping.
Lennox breaks our moment. “You’ve never had sex, but planned to move to a place where ménages and reverse harems are normal?”
“There wasn’t much of a plan.”
“That’s dangerous.”
I tilt my head side to side as if considering. “Luckily, I came up with a new idea.”
“What’s that?”
Easing onto the bench next to Lennox, I bump him to scoot over. He makes room for me but keeps the sides of our bodies touching.
“Hear me out. Let’s just ignore the weirdness that my ex is your son. I promise that I got this idea before I knew that.”
“What idea?” Lennox’s voice wavers.
“My relationship with Henry didn’t go anywhere because he was fun, but he wasn’t… what I’m looking for.” I take a moment to sort my thoughts—some don’t need to be revealed just yet. “I always wanted my first time to be really good and I didn’t think he could deliver.”
Blake sits taller. “I got you, Firecracker.” He reaches across the table and takes my hands.
How can his fingers feel so strong and supportive? And once again, I’m at a loss for words. They must be feeling the same thing as me, or at least Blake is.
I need to say something, but what? I eek out, “Firecracker?”
“The second I laid eyes on you, my future exploded.”
“That’s kind weird, kinda hot. And just to be clear, I’d love to have both of you as my…” How to make this less awkward? I sense that Blake will play along, making it easier for Lennox to get on board. “Teachers.”
Blake nods. “What do you say, Lennox? Ready to be an educator?”
I move one hand to Lennox’s. The tiniest flinch fills me with fear that he’ll pull away, say no, leave Blake with the hard decision of whether or not to fuck his co-worker’s son’s ex.
But I also hope that they’ll say yes. That tonight could be the night I have the pleasure of an orgasm by someone’s hands other than my own. That tonight I dare to let my wildest fantasy come true. That I could see a future where I’m not single.
Several headlights stream through the diner’s glass front.
Reality washes over me.
Pre-teen baseball players and their parents stream in, filling booth after booth. Somewhere in the back of my brain, I recall that there was a baseball tournament in town. Based on their rowdy nature, I guess this team was victorious.
Will I be so lucky?
“You can think about it… the teacher thing.” I squeeze both of their hands and get up. “We got a little distracted. Did you want to order?”
Blake smiles and shakes his head. “We’re good. Mind if we hang out?”
“Just in case.” I tear a page from my ordering pad and write my phone number and ‘In need of a tutor’ on it, then slide it onto the table.