Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
FRANKIE
J ust because I have some self-consciousness doesn’t mean I avoid sex. Nor am I short of opportunities to have it. In the immortal words of Amy Schumer, I can catch dick whenever I want. And yes, there are a lot of jackasses online, but if you’re willing to sift, you’ll find decent guys. Most of the men I’ve hooked up with, though, I’ve met by chance, at community events, through pickleball and dancing, even once at the dog park when I was minding my neighbor’s dog, Murray.
What I have avoided up till now is a relationship. I’ve invited men into my bed and then I’ve politely (mostly) shown them the door and declined any future requests to meet. This can get a little tricky if you know you’ll see them again, for example, when you’re paired up on the dance floor, but I’m a skilled communicator. I make my position crystal clear, leaving no room for the slightest misinterpretation. And I never change my mind.
That’s why this whole thing with Danny has got me so flustered. Despite my considerable initial misgivings, I’ve found myself falling for him. Only not falling as in a pleasant floating sensation, but more like that sudden anxious jolt when you misstep. Or those hypnic jerks you have when you’re drifting off to sleep, that cause your eyes to fly open and your brain to go, What the fuck?
I thought I’d been smart and in control when I came up with my get-to-know-each-other plan. But we’ve barely ticked off one item and here I am naked in his bed. Or to be accurate, Cam’s old bed, but let’s not go there.
And it was good. Ridiculously good, even though it wasn’t my style at all. Normally, no surprises here, I like to take charge. I don’t mean to make it sound like I treat the guy like a programmable sex robot; I’m as fond of being carried away by passion as the next person. But I like to set an expectation of “my bed, my rules”. And most guys have no problem with that. In fact, I think they find it kind of a relief.
I don’t know why I expected it to be the same with Danny. Nothing else with him has gone as it should. It’s like Flora Valley is Wonderland and I’m Alice, and I’m now trying to work out a whole new set of rules in a place where everything is topsy-turvy.
Thing is, I don’t hate it. It’s new and confusing and part of me still wants to run away screaming, but overall, I’m willing to see where this leads. I’m willing to see if this could turn into my first real relationship.
However, I’m also going to ensure we stick to the get-to-know-each-other plan. This means ignoring the fact that we jumped the gun by having sex. Because now that line has been crossed, I am not going back, so we’ll have to run the plan in parallel. I guess it’ll be like straddling two trains, one foot on each roof as they rattle along, and hoping like hell that the tracks don’t suddenly diverge.
From downstairs, I hear a muted, “Ow, fuck!”
I’m lying here in bed trying to get my thoughts in order (spoiler: I haven’t) while Danny’s on a mission to dispose of the condom and fetch us water. Important to stay hydrated.
His footfall sounds on the stairs and then he appears, a glass of water in each hand, scowling.
“How the fuck did Cam the Giant survive in this place?” He hands me a water glass and slides back into bed. “Every time I turn around, I smack some part of me on a hard wooden edge.”
“Evolution moves faster than Cam,” I say. “That probably helps.”
“And who doesn’t build some kind of closet?”
“A man who doesn’t have clothes that need hanging,” I point out.
“I guess I can be thankful that the bathroom isn’t a long drop,” Danny mutters.
He senses my side-eye and screws up his mouth.
“I know, I know – city-boy,” he says. “Though technically , I grew up in a semi-rural area. But in a ten-bedroom house. With a tennis court. And a mile-long tree-lined driveway. So … yeah.”
Right. Sometimes I forget that the Durants have money. Well, Nate doesn’t right now; he and Shelby are teetering on broke. But unlike us Armstrongs, he did grow up with money. And so did Danny. It grates a little, but I have to admit, I’m curious about how the other half lives.
“What was it like, being a rich kid?” I ask.
“We hung out mainly with other rich kids,” he says with a shrug. “We went to private schools, and Mom and Dad’s friends all have money, too. So, I guess I’m saying that while I knew we were wealthy, it seemed normal.” He frowns at me. “Does that sound super arrogant?”
The fact that he’s worried about that makes me consider my answer with more care.
“Not arrogant exactly,” is my reply. “But a little narrow and entitled.”
“I guess that’s true,” says Danny, with a grimace. “Though unlike most of our friends’ parents, Dad made it clear that he and Mom would never bail us out. We’d have to build our lives and careers ourselves. And if we failed, too bad. We’d have to suck it up and deal.”
“You haven’t failed, though, have you,” I say.
He smiles. “Nope, not yet.”
I smile back. “There you go.”
“Though it’s possibly because I refuse to look down at what’s circling in the waters below me,” he says. “And I’m not too sure Dad approves of that as an approach.”
“ My Dad would have,” I tell him. “He lived his whole life pretending financial crisis wasn’t sawing a hole under his feet.”
I drink some water. It’s cold and refreshing. “Then again, that kind of confidence is catching. Flora Valley Wines wouldn’t be here today if Dad hadn’t been so relentlessly optimistic.”
“You must miss him a lot,” Danny says gently. “He died pretty young.”
My first instinct is to say I don’t think about it anymore. That I did my grieving for Dad on my own, and in my own way, and then I put that grief aside and got on with my life. But that’s my defense response, my armor, and a big, fat lie. Plus, I’d be a hypocrite to ask Danny personal questions without being willing to answer his questions of me.
“I miss him every day,” I say. “And it’s bullshit what they say about grief. It doesn’t happen in stages. It happens randomly, unexpectedly, like you’re strolling along and someone lobs a grenade in your path. And I have not got to the acceptance stage, either. I’m stuck on sadness and anger?—”
I stop because I’m about to cry. I hate crying. I hate leaking stupid, weak tears.
Danny sets his water glass on the floor and shuffles closer but doesn’t reach out to hug me. He’s being cautious and fair enough; my whole body is rigid and I’m clutching my own glass in both hands, like it’s a weapon.
“Sorry, Frankie,” he says. “It was thoughtless of me to bring it up. Are you okay?”
“No,” I reply. “But that’s not your fault.”
“Do you want a hug?”
His earnestness makes me burst out laughing. Danny looks as if he doesn’t know whether to be offended or join me.
“We just intimately connected a whole bunch of body parts,” I explain. “It’s adorable that you’re asking permission to put your arms around me.”
Danny turns on the full-wattage smile. Pretty sure I can guess what’s coming. And who.
I was right. Relentless positivity is catching. I’m suddenly once again in a good mood.
“Want to give the body parts another workout?” he asks. “You can call all the shots this time.”
I turn on my best single eyebrow arch. “Sure you’re ready for that?”
He lifts the sheets and shows me Lil Danny. He’s ready, but Big Danny, I feel, is overly – no other word for it – cocky.
“All right then, let’s get this show on the road.” I set my water glass down and rub my hands together to warm them and give the impression I’m scheming. Which I am.
“First, you’ll need to be condomed-up.”
“Really?” Danny frowns. “No foreplay?”
“Not for you,” I reply. “You’re on the sidelines until I summon you.”
Danny eyes me warily. “Summon?”
My smile is my answer. Slowly, teasingly, I lower the covers until every inch of my bare skin is exposed. Danny’s got the condom packet in hand but freezes as I begin, gently and leisurely, to pleasure myself.
“Shit,” he mutters. “Could you wait a second until I get this on?”
“Don’t look?” I suggest, with a lazy smile.
“Impossible,” he says, and hastily rolls on the condom. “Made it. Just.”
There’s lube by the bed but I don’t need it. I close my eyes, and revel in the sensation, the delicious tension that’s building in my whole body.
“Shit,” I hear Danny mutter again. It’s time.
I open my eyes and smile up at him. Honestly, his jaw is so tight, he looks like he’s undergoing surgery without anesthetic. Pity it’s not going to get any easier.
“Sit up and stretch your legs out,” I tell him. “You’ll need to lean backwards and prop yourself up on your arms.”
“Okay.” He’s fully focused. No wasting energy on excess words.
“Right, I’m going to lower myself onto you,” I say. “But you’re not to move. I’ll do everything for us.”
Facing him, I lower myself onto his erection and hook my legs over his thighs. Then I lean back, too. His eyes are dark with lust and his breathing is rapid and shallow. But I now control the speed and depth of the thrusts and unless he does an Incredible Hulk and flips me over, there’s nothing he can do about it. So, naturally, I take it slow. And because I can, I continue to pleasure myself.
Poor Danny. His arms are trembling and he’s trying to lift his hips up to get more traction but he’s effectively trapped. I lean back a little further and the electric sensation of the new angle makes me gasp, and I quicken the pace of my fingers. That takes me right to the cliff-edge of orgasm, but the slowness of the thrusts means I hang there, teetering, unable to go over. It’s torture and it’s exquisite and I become a lot more vocal.
My partner is also becoming louder, though less appreciative, judging by the fact he’s just yelled “ FUCK! ” But the sex gods are merciful because at that instant, my orgasm breaks, and now both of us are shouting. Any night birds outside will be wondering what the hell is going on. Danny’s arms give out and he collapses backwards, and I’m left straddling him, limp and wrung out and laughing with the joy of it all.
Danny’s eyes are closed, his arms splayed out sideways like a scarecrow’s, and his chest is heaving. He’s also muttering a stream of what sounds like curse words.
“I did warn you,” I say.
He squints at me. “That was the kind of warning like ‘Parental Advisory’, which is basically an encouragement. You did not say I’d be taken to the brink of insanity.”
Lil Danny is still inside me, and the condom will soon be a hazard, so I gently lift myself off. And lie down beside Big Danny and nuzzle his neck.
“You did well, young apprentice,” I say. “Now, we should sleep.”
“Nate and Shelby will know you didn’t come home,” he points out. “They also know there’s only one bed here.”
“Sleep,” I insist. “And we’ll deal with our beloved families in the morning.”