23. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GRETCHEN
A fter our recent debacle with Miranda, which Brady handled brilliantly (if I do say so myself), Brady informs me that he’s done stripping. “I’ve made enough money to finish out the summer,” he explains. “This will give me the freedom and time I need in order to buckle down and find a real job.”
“I’m not against it,” I reply. “Save your stripping for my eyes only.”
“Exactly,” he says. “I like it better that way, anyway.”
I love that we both want to be done with the grind (no pun intended) of the adult entertainment industry, and that we’re also both diligently planning for our next steps once the summer ends.
I’m lying in bed with Brady on the last Monday morning of July.
We slept naked, as we often do, and waking up, we’re just a tangle of limbs marked by his profound morning wood.
I can’t help myself. I roll on top of him and kiss him, and he welcomes me into his mouth.
My nipples pinch at the touch of his tongue against mine, and the sensation hits me right between my legs.
It’s amazing how hot this man makes me. I bite his lower lip, then move down to his neck, and try to head lower when he stops me.
“Uh uh,” he says. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare what?” I ask, my face against his chest.
“Don’t you try to go down on me just because I’m hard.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“Because you’ll break my cardinal rule.”
“Which is?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
“Ladies first.”
Seriously, I could try to dream up a fictional man and would never even come close to the real one I’ve got.
He flips me onto my back, kisses down my body and places his palms on my inner thighs, holding me open. He looks at me, first between my legs, and then up at my face. “You are so beautiful, Gretchen. I could stare at every inch of you and it would never get old.”
“Well, don’t just sit there staring. That’s weird.”
He removes one of his hands and rests his face on my inner thigh, getting a better look. “No, it’s not. I’m appreciating you. Besides, I’m getting to it. Don’t worry, I won’t make you wait very long.”
“Are you –” I stop myself, craning my neck to the side. Goddamn it. He is. He’s touching himself while he looks at me. “No fair, Brady,” I squirm. “You can’t do that.”
“Does it bother you?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “I just – do it to me instead,” I beg.
“I think you like being teased,” he says, and he’s right.
It dawns on me that I’ve never been so open in bed with anyone before.
He doesn’t stop stroking himself, but he does lean in and give me a long lick, ending with a tender kiss that I grind my hips up to meet, searching for pressure from his tongue.
“Tell me what you want, Gretchen. I’ll do anything. ”
The old me – that is, me before Brady – would never, ever ask for anything in regards to sex. But this version of me enjoys the freedom that being in a healthy, stable relationship with the world’s hottest former stripper can bring.
“Fuck me,” I say.
“Already?” he asks.
“With your mouth,” I clarify.
“Damn,” he whispers, and kisses me again. “Gladly.”
I can feel him working himself faster as he buries his face into me.
I’m so wet, and he knows exactly how to move his mouth to get me to come for him.
He uses his free hand to play around at my entrance, then finally slides a finger inside me, and I can feel him stop moving his other hand – the one that’s wrapped around himself. “You okay?” I whisper.
“Yeah. Just got pretty close, so I had to stop before I ruined it.”
“Mmm,” I reply, as Brady plants his lips back on me.
With his newly free hand, he reaches up and grazes my left nipple.
My body arches into the touch. His finger moves faster inside me and his other hand takes turns hopping from one peak to the other, pinching lightly and flicking each nipple until they’re both solid little marbles.
Each touch sends me closer to the precipice.
I moan, and Brady knows that means to go the tiniest bit faster, so he does.
My orgasm comes hard at first, and I can feel myself constrict around his finger, hooked perfectly as it is, bringing me so much unfiltered pleasure.
The next waves follow, and I jerk into the sensation until all that’s left are delicious aftershocks.
“Now, your turn,” I say. I reposition myself so that I can take all of him into my mouth, eliciting guttural groans that provid e instant gratification.
Carefully, I move up and down, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster.
He gets worked up into a frenzy pretty quickly, so I offer him a change in positions, and he gratefully accepts.
On all fours, I welcome Brady to take me from the back, which I know is his favorite, especially when he’s carnal like he is first thing in the morning.
He grunts and thrusts, grabbing my hips for support, and I can feel his entire length fill me each time.
My eyes roll into the back of my head as he comes inside me.
Then, we collapse onto the bed. Brady cleans us up with yesterday’s boxers, which were left on the nightstand specifically for the possibility of a morning like this.
He hugs me afterwards, and the lust is now replaced with an overwhelming tenderness. He pulls back to look me in the eye. “I love you,” he whispers.
I can’t control it. I grin like a fool. “Say it again,” I murmur.
“I love you, Gretchen.”
“Mmm. I love you too, Brady. So much.”
And this beautiful Monday morning is what sets the scene for what I imagine will be a glorious week.
The next day is August 1 st . There’s a shift in the air once August hits; at least, this has always been true for me.
When you grow up in a summer town, it’s hard not to see August as the beginning of the end.
School usually starts either right before or right after Labor Day, and so there’s one more month – or, sometimes more accurately – four more weeks to soak up whatever gifts the season has left to give.
It’s ironic that August 1 st is when I hear from Cherry that Arrow has convinced Jenny it is time to move on.
Which means she’ll be coming back to the Cape with her family in tow.
I wonder w hat that will mean for Cosmo, but I don’t ask.
It will be interesting to see if maybe they’ll finally open up that dental office they spoke about all those years ago.
Or maybe just something a little more – kid friendly?
Wholesome? I don’t know. Of course, the news does not come without its downside: because Jenny’s coming back with her, they have to pack up her whole apartment and move it here.
Which means they’ll be renting a U-Haul and driving it all the way from Arizona to the Cape.
According to Cherry, their hope is to arrive by Monday the 7th.
Maybe then I can quit my job.
I’ve enjoyed it, don’t get me wrong. But I have enough money.
I’ve got big plans to get an after-school job while I student teach so that I can finally start my life as a certified teacher next year.
I’ve got an amazing boyfriend who loves me who is also looking at real jobs in economics that I don’t entirely understand.
I would really like to see where this new path takes me. And, just like how Brady’s done with stripping, I’m getting tired of Cosmo. I love the dancing , I’ve discovered. I just don’t enjoy the business side of things. Also, there’s no life for it beyond the summer.
Anyway, Arrow knew I was only temporary when she hired me. And I’m sure we can both agree that I did way more than either one of us ever expected me to.
August air smells like anticipation. Impending change. And I can feel it more this year than ever.
Brady’s big interview is this Friday in New York.
I’m excited and nervous for him. He says he’ll leave on Thursday afternoon and stay overnight in a hotel in the city, since the in terview is at 9:00 a.m. He’s invited me to join him, but with Arrow still out and Cherry back to shot-girling for me (carefully, as her doctor was pissed when she reopened her incision), I can’t in good conscience abandon the club this weekend.
Plus, just knowing there’s an end in sight makes it easier to forgo the idea of road-tripping to New York with Brady.
I remind him that when (not if) he gets this job, I’m sure he’ll have to go in for meetings every now and again.
So we’ll be able to go down and visit whenever we want.
Who knows? Maybe his company will even pay for it.
That’s how finance and marketing and all those industries work, right?
Everyone’s excited for Brady’s interview.
Big Mike makes him a Spotify playlist to get him pumped.
Brady’s mom sends him a handmade dreamcatcher that she bought at an open-air market made by a Meskwaki native.
With it, she sends a card that says something about chasing your dreams. It’s very sweet.
“She’s a little out there sometimes,” Brady explains, “but I think you’d like her.
” He calls her to thank her, and she reminds him that she’ll be in Connecticut for a writing conference that overlaps with his time in New York, and would he like to see her?
Of course he would. Brady’s good like that.
Even my parents are excited for him. My dad tries to look up what a Market Research Analyst does, but can’t quite figure it out.
My mom bakes him cookies for the long car ride to New York, which she gives to me on Wednesday morning when I swing by the house to pick up some mail that came for me over there .
Things are finally coming together , I decide, listening to Sheryl Crow’s Soak Up the Sun in my fresh-tire Fiesta on the way back from Eastport. It feels so good to be in such a healthy place.
Wednesday night, though, I’m finishing up a (thankfully uneventful) shift at Cosmo when I see that I missed a call from my dad.
I check the voicemail. “Gretchen, it’s me.
Listen, I wanted to let you know that me and your mother decided to surprise your friend Brady at the Diamond Excelsior tonight.
Wanted to wish him luck on his interview, and figured we’d never been there, so might as well go while we actually know someone who works there.
Except, honey, that’s the thing. I don’t know how to tell you this except to just come out with it.
I think Brady’s been lying to you. He wasn’t at the Diamond Excelsior.
At all. We even asked for him by name, and the server we spoke to said he hadn’t worked there in months.
I wanted to come down to the pub and talk to you about it, but your Mom said not to upset you at work.
I don’t like the sound of this, though, Gretchie.
Call me in the morning, honey. I think we should talk about this. Love you.”
Fuck.
I hate to wake him, but as soon as I get home, I knock on Brady’s door.
“Hi, babe. How was work?” he says, opening it, rubbing his eyes.
“It was fine. I’m sorry that I woke you,” I say, kissing his cheek.
“No worries. I wasn’t totally asleep. Just dozed off watching Netflix.”
“Brady, we’ve got a problem.”
He furrows his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Apparently, my parents went to the Diamond tonight to wish you luck. They sat in the main restaurant and asked for you by name – only, someone said you haven’t worked there in months.”
“Oh. Shit.”
“Yeah. My dad’s pissed.”
“Hm. That was nice of them to go over there. I feel bad.” He rubs his forehead.
“Yeah, kind of out of character. They must like you. They don’t eat at expensive places like that for no reason.”
“Hang on, just let me think.”
I lean against the kitchen counter.
“Okay. What if…” His voice trails off.
“I’m listening,” I say.
“What if we say that I got moved to the golf side?”
“Go on.”
“Like, you know how by the pro shop there’s that restaurant where the golfers eat?”
“Mulligan’s?”
“Yeah. What if we say I moved over there? It’s still part of the Diamond.”
“I guess we could say that. But wouldn’t it be a downgrade?”
“Not if I was the restaurant manager.”
“That could work. Unless…”
“Unless what?” he asks.
“Unless they go there to try and visit you. ”
Brady takes a step towards me and reaches his hands around my waist. “Well, they won’t go this week, since I’m out of town anyway.
Hopefully, that will give everyone a chance to settle down.
By next week, maybe it won’t be on their radar anymore.
Especially,” he goes on, kissing me on the forehead, “if I get the job in New York.”
“Okay. That’s fair.”
“You just need to be convincing when you tell them. Like there’s nothing to be concerned about at all. Like it was just a misunderstanding or an oversight.”
I nod. “Got it.”
I put it out of my mind for the rest of the night, curl up in Brady’s bed, and help him get over his pre-interview jitters.
Twice.