26. By myself. With my hand.
26 /
by myself. with my hand.
rafael
A couple of hours later, as the sun is setting and I’ve finished all my laundry and deep cleaning the barbecue—thank you, hyper-fixation—I’m trying to coax Pumpkin into coming to snuggle with me on the couch, but she ignores me, as usual. My phone vibrates on the coffee table, and I consider ignoring it until it vibrates again, and again, and again. I smile as I unlock it to find a string of texts from the woman who’s been running through my mind like she’s training for a marathon.
CHARLIE:
Hi.
I started a list.
You know how much I like those :)
And there are things I really want to experience firsthand from romance books, you know?
Still smiling like the idiot that I am, I start typing back.
ME:
Can I see the list?
CHARLIE:
Here you go.
1. Door lean. Is it really that hot?
2. Gray sweats. Need a visual.
3. Neck kisses. Pulse point kiss, are they really all that? What other spots feel good?
Want to learn this about myself and others.
4. Is it possible to fall asleep while cuddling? Never tried it. I think it would get too hot. This would require a sleepover, so if you’re not into that, just let me know.
5. Techniques for giving good head. I don’t personally love the idea of gagging, so I will have to experiment with this.
6. Dry humping. Never done it. Curious.
7. Making out in the car. Logistics, because the centre console seems like it would get annoying.
8. First kiss. Is it possible to have a great first kiss? Mine have all been lackluster.
9. Mutual masturbation. Sounds awkward?
10. Phone sex. What the hell does one say?
11. Sexting. Seems like less pressure than phone sex.
12. What’s a day at home supposed to be like? I don’t know how to just be around someone doing normal things.
13. Lingerie: do men really like it, and is it possible for it to be comfortable?
14. Hands tied during sex. Maybe a blindfold, too.
15. Sex in the shower.
16. Try as many sexual positions as possible.
17. Sex. Just sex. So much sex.
I’m sweating.
Reading this list is making me sweat. Goddamn it, I wanna do all of these things with her. Yesterday. Right now. I’ve always thought of Charlie as one of the sexiest women I’ve ever known, but getting to know her is waking something up inside me that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to put back to sleep.
Is this what she wants to do with that fuckface in London, though? Better not think about that. In fact, I’d like to forget about him entirely.
I read through the list again but find myself pausing and imagining how things will play out. Obviously, I’m taking too long because my phone vibrates in my hand.
CHARLIE:
You okay over there?
Having second thoughts?
ME:
No, I’m good. Just reading.
Let’s maybe start with numbers 1, 2, 3, and maybe 12? We can work our way up to the other stuff. What do you say?
CHARLIE:
Cool.
I’m sure I’ll have more to add .
Cool? I’m sitting here, harder than a freaking lead pipe, and she’s just… cool?
I’m so fucked.
CHARLIE:
Can we start on Tuesday?
A pained groan escapes my mouth as I read her message. I’m gonna have to start right now. By myself. With my hand.
ME:
Yeah.
What the fuck am I doing?
I’ve had roughly fifty-five hours to prepare for this. I’ve jerked off three times. I’ve spent more time at the office than I usually do. I’ve gone for four runs. I’ve done skipping exercises twice. Today.
I texted Charlie ten minutes ago that I was on my way and that I was coming up to her apartment to show her something. Now, I’m leaning on her doorway like an absolute fucking moron waiting for her to let me in. My forearm is resting on the frame, I have one foot crossed over the other, and I’m about to forget about this stupid idea when she opens the door and takes me in from top to bottom, and I hear the little hitch in her breathing.
“Is this what you were thinking?” She steps back, letting her eyes roam over my body once more. “Or was it this?” I cross my arms over my chest, resting my tricep on the doorframe. Charlie swallows, still speechless, and a very cute pink blush appears on her cheeks. I push off the wall, kicking the door shut as I walk inside. She takes three steps backward, and before she trips on her shoes, I grab her around the waist and turn us both so her back hits the doorway into the kitchen. With our bodies nearly flush, I prop my arm above her head and lean down, making sure not to speak directly into her ear. “Or was it more like this?” Her chest heaves, her breasts pushed up against me, and then her head turns just ever so slightly, giving me access to her neck. God, I want to kiss her there, but it’s too much. For her? Maybe, I don’t know. But definitely too much for me. So, I settle for running my nose along her skin, watching goosebumps form in the wake of my touch. “You smell so fucking good, honey bun.”
I physically feel the shiver run up her spine that ends with a moan. The blush on her cheeks is as pink as the flowers in my grandmother’s garden. “Th-that’s good. That’ll do.” She clears her throat of the hoarseness we both just heard in her voice, and I take a step back.
I hold back a chuckle, as she pulls in a deep breath, slowly collecting the little pieces of herself I scattered with our lesson on door leans. Fuck, I love me a flustered Charlie. “So, what did we learn today, Chuck?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah. Good. All of those. Door leans. Very good. Indeed.” She rushes to slip her white, low-top Chuck Taylors on and grabs her purse from the bench by the front door. “Ready?”
We make our way to my car in silence, but I can practically hear the gears turning in her head.
“Ginger Spice, what are you thinking about?” I ask as we both buckle our seatbelts.
“Oh, um, I just need to make some notes, I think. I don’t want to forget these feelings when it’s time to write, you know? Do you mind? I can just take some notes quickly on my phone. Would that be okay? Or is that rude?” She fiddles with a ring on her middle finger and grips her phone tightly in the other.
“Take all the notes you want, Chuck. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right, and that I didn’t cross any lines or anything. It’s scary when you go silent on me, you know?” I chuckle, but I’m dead fucking serious.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to. And I’m fine. That was great. Top-notch, truly. You could actually teach a class on door leans, you’re so good at them.” She unlocks her phone and starts typing furiously, brows furrowed and thumbs moving at breakneck speed over the keyboard. Occasionally, she mumbles a few words, like biceps, ankles, and hot, but I can’t make out what she’s writing. It’s adorable, the way she’s so focused.
Eventually, she stops, pulling in a deep breath with a small smile on her lips.
“We’re nearly there. All set?” I ask.
“I think so. I’m so sorry. I just got super focused on getting these thoughts down, and I lost track of time.” She winces while looking out at the road ahead of us.
I was totally prepared to keep driving around if she needed more time. “No sweat, Chuck. Looked like you were having a solid hyperfocus moment.”
She hums a response. “Was that awkward for you to do? The leaning?” Her eyes stay on me as I contemplate my answer.
“A little at first because I was just waiting for you to open the door while I stood there, but once we were inside, no. I definitely prefer leaning on a doorway when you’re doing it with me.” I smirk, and when I sneak a glance at her, her cheeks are flushed the same rosy color they had been when I told her how good she smelled. As if we’re both remembering the same moment, she brings a hand to her neck. “Roses,” I accidentally whisper. Maybe she didn’t hear me.
After a few seconds of silence, I count myself in the clear. “What?”
Shit . She heard me.
I clear my throat, a sudden heat climbing its way to my own cheeks now. “Your, uh, smell. You always smell like roses.”
“Oh.” She pulls her bottom lip in between her teeth, and I keep my eyes locked on the road for the remainder of our drive, which is about twenty-three seconds since I’m pulling into the driveway. “We’re here?” I nod a response. “Wow, this is beautiful.”
I look around, taking in the orange trees on one side, the old farmhouse ahead of us, and the mountains to the left. Yep. It’s amazing here, but the best view is at the back of the house. I can’t wait for Charlie to see it.
“Apologies in advance for my grandmother’s inappropriate jokes,” I say before getting out. She shoots me a confused look as I round the front of the car and open her door. “You’ll see. Now, come on, strawberry shortcake. We have work to do.” I bop her on the nose and take her hand, leading us both into the house, the smell of coffee floating out to greet us. “Vózinha?” Charlie tugs me back as she starts to slip her shoes off. “Oh, if you want to take your shoes off, I’ll get you some slippers. They don’t take their shoes off here.” I roll my eyes, then scan the cubbies by the front door for slippers in case she does want them.
“Oh. Okay then.” She slides her hand out of mine as she puts her shoe back on, and it’s then that I realize we’ve been holding hands. I didn't register when the decision to take her hand happened, but I do notice that I miss the contact once it’s no longer there.
I walk into the kitchen first and find my grandmother has an absolute feast laid out for us. Fruits, several different kinds of cheese, so much bread, and a ton of sliced meat. Then there are the cake, biscuits, and sweet preserves to be eaten with the cheese. She went all out.
“Ben?a, Vó.” I reach for her, hugging her, then kissing her cheek loudly as she slaps my cheek in that way of hers. “This is my friend, Charlie. Chuck, this is my grandmother, Ana Maria.” I step back as the gorgeous redhead comes into view, her eyes a bit wide, and her lips parted. She’s nervous.
“Prazer,” Charlie says in a surprisingly proper Brazilian accent. Impressive as fuck, as always.
Charlie is frozen still, so Vó approaches her. The two women are nearly the same height, and when my grandmother reaches her hands up, her bright blue eyes widen further before softening. Seeing Charlie’s face between Vó’s wrinkled hands does something to my insides, a languid warmth leisurely making its way from my stomach to my chest.
“Linda. Muito linda,” she says, smiling widely at Charlie, who smiles back, placing her hands over the older woman’s. That warmth in my chest morphs into white-hot heat in a blink as I witness a moment I know I won’t ever be able to relive again. The air shifts. The ground moves. The light seems to shine only on them, and in an instant, it’s over. “Let’s eat,” Vó announces, and the three of us take a seat at the table.