Fair warning, you might not want to read this in class, or at work or any place that you may be asked why you're turning red & sweating...or at least that's what it did to me.
“You going to sit out here by yourself all night?” Lauren asks, the sound of her flip flops on the flagstones beside the pool echoes loudly in the silence of the dark night.
“Can’t sleep,” I answer honestly. I’d been, in turns, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling unable to count sheep or do anything else to relax myself enough for sleep. “I put new sheets on but the room smells like him and...I just can’t sleep there.”
“So sleep in one of the guest rooms,” she suggests, a pack of cigarettes appearing in her hand and the sound of a match being struck drags me out of delirium.
“I was going to but...when did you start smoking?” I ask, staring at the old Hollywood elegant way she holds the lit cigarette before taking a long drag on it, the ash at the end turning cherry red before she takes it out from between her lips and blows out several smoke rings which sort of answers my question. A while, I’m guessing.
“I only do it when I’m stressed,” she replies coolly, turning to give me a warm smile before producing a dish into which she taps the ash and tosses the burnt match.
“And what could you be stressed over?” I ask, thinking that she’s pretty and rich and wants for nothing and she doesn’t have the same worry that I’ve had keeping me up half the night.
“Joey Haddad,” she sighs, a dreamy expression on her face.
“A guy form school?” I guess but she shakes her head.
“Baby Pen. Six two, built and I mean...mmmdamn built,” she sighs again, her eyes taking on this far away gleam.
“But he’s in Scranton,” I guess and she sighs by way of a reply. “Let me guess, you can’t think of any plausible reason to be staying overnight in Scranton?” She nods and rolls her eyes.
“I know, pathetic right? I mean, I’m old enough to be date and stuff but I swear to god if dad knew I was going there to jump one of his players...,” she draws her thumb, nail in, across her throat and I nod.
“Well I guess there’s always the old stand-by. Just say you’re staying at a friend’s place. Just make sure she’s in on it,” I offer but she shakes her head.
“The whole PTA group is too... close. They check with each other. I’d so get caught,” she sighs and then butts out her cigarette. “I’ll just have to entice him down here,” she adds with a mischievous grin. I nod and then she stands and stretches and yawns. “I think I’ll go back to bed and dream that I’m not chained to this house,” she moans. I waggle my fingers at her by way of saying good-night and she turns to go, but that question that keeps coming to the forefront of my mind is suddenly there at the tip of my tongue.
“Lauren...have you...you know since you and Kris LeTang...have you done it since?” I ask, staring intently at the lift reflecting on the cool blue of the pool.
“Well of course. I didn’t lose it so I could just go back to being a nun,” she laughs.
“So was it...I mean was it better after, y’know, the second time?” I ask, turning to look at her so I can read the truth in her features and she grins wide.
“So much better the second time. It was so worth it, if that’s what you’re wondering,” she grins and then turns on her heel and heads back into the house.
Yeah, I think to myself. That’s what I thought.
“What are you doing here?”
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Max opens the door wider and peers at me through lidded eyes.
“You kissed me and then you left. Don’t you think we have something to talk about?” I ask, stepping forward, expecting to walk by him and into his house, like I have done a dozen times before, but he moves his arm and blocks my way.
“Not now…I mean just…tomorrow or something,” he mumbles and I realize he’s looking past me and not at me.
“I’m not here to argue,” I say more quietly, hugging my arms close around me.
“Then what are you here for, mon chère?” he asks, his gaze focused on one of the flagstones near my feet.
“I think you know,” I whisper, wishing the courage I’d gathered to walk up the driveway wasn’t failing me now. His brow furrows and then his gaze finally rises to meet mine.
“Mel, ma petite…I’m half asleep. You’re going to have to do better than that,” he says in a hoarse whisper before he swallows audibly and his hand slides down the door jam.
“I could have gone to Tanger’s,” I whisper, stepping near him, so that there’s barely a breath in between us. I reach out and run my finger down the center of his bare chest, just where the swirls of soft hair begin end down to the middle of his six-pack. I watch my finger pause there, just above his belly button and then I look up at him and the sleep has disappeared entirely from his eyes.
He steps aside, closing the door and throwing the bolt. A security measure, I suppose, or maybe it’s not even something he’s aware of doing, and yet the sound makes me jump. I look around the tiled foyer at the plants that the maid service must water, Max couldn’t possibly take care of them himself, and the dark wood furniture that looks like it belongs in the house of older or at least more sophisticated people.
My gaze roams to the stairs that lead up to the main floor, to the living room, the kitchen and…and the bedrooms and my heart skips a beat, an almost painful feeling that makes me suck a breath in through my teeth.
“I can’t do it,” I whisper, because it’s dark in the house and it’s the middle of the night and for all I know, Max being Max, there might be some girl upstairs waiting for him to come back to bed and the last thing I want is for someone to hear me ask what I’ve come to ask.
I turn to see him standing near the doorway, in nothing but a pair of black, or at the very least dark coloured boxer briefs and nothing else. My gaze roams over his tight abs, the dark cross and fleur-de-lis decorating his ribs, the shield and T sketched on his bicep as he raises his arm to scratch at his head, his short hair in disarray, a few days growth on his chin.
“I can’t…no, I don’t want to go to his bed…you know…not knowing,” I whisper, feeling my cheeks burn as I think about how close we’ve already come to sleeping together and how nervous I’ve been and how in control Sidney always is. I feel Max’s arms slide around me, his strong arms pulling me against the solid wall of his chest, his lips pressing against my temple as he chuckles, a warm low sound.
“Ma petite, you worry too much,” he says quietly as he holds me close, one hand on the small of my back, the other cradling the back of my head as he holds it against his shoulder. “Have you been lying awake all night worrying that Sid will care about something like that?” I nod, knowing he’ll feel the rise and fall of my cheek against his skin, the ropey muscle of his shoulder relaxing as he rocks me in his arms. “He would be un imbécile inconsidéré if such a small thing as your purity bothered him and our Sidney is no fool,” Max promises, reaching between us to tilt my chin up so he can study my face and though his smile is warm, there’s something in his eyes that tells me that he’s not really thinking about Sidney’s feelings at all and that is exactly what I was bargaining on when I drove over here.
Not that I’ve entirely worked up the courage to do what I came here to do, which makes me look away from his searching gaze, laying my head against his shoulder instead. I’m not going to beg. That’s one thing I’ve promised myself I won’t do. I didn’t, however, promise myself that I wouldn’t give him another hint if at first he didn’t understand, and so I slide my hand, very slowly up his ribs, tracing the large tattoo there and his skin ripples beneath my touch.
“He doesn’t want me that way…not…untouched. I asked. He expects…more,” I explain when I turn my face up to his and I can see the knowledge in his eyes, desire warring with what he knows is right and he doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe, at least until I turn and press my lips against his warm skin, just above the collarbone. I hear him let out the breath he’s holding in one long rush of air and his arms tighten around me.
“La plus belle femme, que faites-tu à moi?” He growls, but tips my face up to his and his lips come crashing down over mine. His mouth and his tongue are both insistent and bruising as he kisses me fiercely and hungrily. I feel his hand fist in my hair, pulling my head back as he drinks at my mouth, as his tongue battles with mine.
It’s like being with Sidney and nothing at all like it all at once. My body is alive, every sensation doubled, tripled as he kisses his way down my neck, but there is none of Sidney’s tenderness in the way his teeth dig into my shoulder, or the way his hands slide down to capture my ass in an almost painful grip.
And Sidney’s never pulled me up off of my feet, but Max does, turning to press me against the wall, stepping between my thighs to hold me up with the force of his body against mine as his pelvis grinds against mine. I hear myself whimper as his arousal becomes physically apparent and I know that this is when I should chicken out, when I should beg him to stop and let him talk me out of this. But I don’t. Instead I whisper in his ear the words I know he wants to hear and is probably dreading at the same time.
“Take me Max, please. Fuck me.” He growls against my throat, the vibration sending a shiver down my spine but I only tighten the grip my legs and arms have on him and nip at his ear, digging my teeth into the soft, sensitive flesh there and repeat my demand until he carries me into the entertainment room, kicking the door in and depositing me on the pinball machine.
“You don’t know what you’re asking, ma petite. Ce que tu me demandes de faire est fou. You don’t want this,” he mutters in a voice made hoarse by lack of sleep and desire, more like he’s trying to talk himself out of it than me. I have not, however, rescinded my hold on him and with one hand on the back of his head I press my lips to his while guiding his other hand to my breast.
He doesn’t move, not for what seems like minutes but then I hear and feel him moan into my mouth and his hand closes around my breast, squeezing it gently and then his fingers tug at my nipple until I moan into his mouth.
I feel the rasp of his beard against my skin, and it feels nothing like Sidney’s soft smooth cheeks and even though I’m sure Max has been with just as many, if not more, women than Sidney has, his kisses feel…different. Not just less refined, but more urgent, less practiced and far, far less patient. His lips are not as soft, and, when his hand slides up underneath my top, I find his hands are not as soft either.
When Max’s lips close around my nipple, when his teeth tug on it and by doing so tug a moan from my lips, I think this is as far as Sidney and I have gone and he…he was less rough, more gentle, more tender. He’d taken his time, working his way there while, even as his teeth tug at my nipple, Max’s hands are busy working their way down and my eyes flutter closed and I release his name as a sigh from my lips as his fingers slide up inside of me.
“If we do this, si je te fais l’amour, it can never be taken back,” he whispers, his serious gaze searching mine. “I’ll always be your first, ma biche. Once done, I cannot undo this.”
“I…I want this,” I reply, my heart beat sounding like thunder in my ears as my gaze roams over his broad round shoulders, down his chiseled torso to the waistband of his boxer briefs. “I don’t want him to know that…I don’t want him to go back to thinking I’m that…little girl.”
“Mon chaton…if it is that way between you then why…?” I silence him with a look and my fingers pressed to his mouth before I reach with my other hand to drag my dress up my thighs and then help him pull my panties down. “No…no ma petite, this is….”
“This is what I want,” I remind him, kicking my panties aside and allowing my legs to drape over the edge of the pinball machine, keeping my calf away from the plunger. Then I slowly lift my up and off, tossing it too to the floor andt that seems to decide it and while I bite down on my bottom lip, Max slides his boxer briefs down and positions the head of his cock at my entrance. We both look down at it, and then his gaze meets mine and the expression I see is both apologetic and full of desire, one warring with the other. “Please, mon ami, pour moi,” I whisper, my hand reaching to stroke his where it rests on my thigh.
“Oui, pour mon ami,” he repeats, his free hand reaching to pull me close, holding me against him. “Hold on to me,” he whispers, cradling the back of my head as he slides his long, thick cock inside of me, I forget everything else but the pain and shut my eyes and hold on to the edge of the machine while we both wait for the pain to subside.
It’s only when I let out a little gasp and begin to breathe normally again that Max begins to move again and then I realize that while it still hurts, just a little, that it feels good too. I open my eyes to smile at him, feeling grateful and…and something more, something deeper but any words I plan to say I swallow when I see the look on his face.
He’s ashamed of himself, of me, but he’s soldiering on, for me. He’s doing this because I asked him to but somehow I know that he’s not enjoying this like he would if I were one of the girls he’d take home from the bar. That’s good, I tell myself. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid with Sidney. I didn’t want to see that disappointed look, I didn’t want him to have to do this like it’s a duty, to get it over with.
“Tell me what to do Max,” I beg, and he blinks, like he can’t believe I can speak, and then he stops altogether but before I can ask why he merely lifts me up off of the pinball machine like I weigh nothing and lifts me down to my feet. Reaching up to cup my cheek, he kisses me then, a soft, sweet sort of kiss, before taking my hand and leading me upstairs.
I assume, of course, that he’s taking me to his bed but instead he leads me to the bathroom where he lifts me up onto the counter beside the sink and proceeds to wash the blood of my now lost maidenhood from my thighs, taking special care to hold the cool wet washcloth against the slight throb left behind by his taking it. It’s such a sweet and tender thing that it almost makes me wish that I had saved this moment for Sidney after all, but then his thumb starts to stroke my clit and he leans in to dig his teeth into the thin flesh just over my collarbone and I forget the pain and the sweet moment altogether as I urge his mouth towards my breast.
He slides me off of the counter, his hands strong and sure beneath my ass, and slides me down over his cock. It hurts, just for a moment though, and then a new sensation begins to swell within me and all my breath leaves my lungs at once as he turns to press me back against the inside of the bathroom door.
Wrapping my legs around him, I beg him to go deeper, harder and place kisses all over his face as he obliges me by sliding his cock deeper until my eyes flutter shut and it’s all I can do to drag a ragged breath in through my teeth as the pain grips me. He waits then, I can feel him holding himself still, waiting for me to take the next move.
As the pain subsides and all I can feel is my muscles stretching around him, accommodating his size and girth while at the same time, clutching at him, pulling at him. Locking my ankles beneath his muscular ass, I try to pull him into me and as I do, I feel his fingers splay across my ass, tilting me so that he can slide up into me at a different angle and that too takes my breath away. This time though, he doesn’t wait again, but makes slow, achingly slow strokes that only leaving me wanting more.
I hear myself making sounds, whimpers and little cries as he pushes up into me that I had always thought were fake when I’d heard them made in movies but now I know how hard it is to actually speak, to form words when your body is joined with another’s. Max, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to have that same issue. I hear him whisper words, almost all of them en Français and they sound dirty and sexy all at the same time.
With a growl, Max drops me to my feet, pulls the door open and then pulls me to him again, his mouth crashing down over mine as he half pushes and half pulls me to his bedroom. There he guides me to his bed and walks me backwards to it until my knees buckle at the mattress and I fall backwards onto the quilt. He stands there, half kneeling on the bed and stares down at me, his eyes roaming greedily over me as if I’m some kind of expensive steak. He even licks his full, sensuous lips before he reaches to pull my body nearer the edge of the bed.
I assume he’s going to slide back into me again but instead he reaches over to turn on the bed side light and it takes every ounce of self control that I have left to m not to grab his quilt and cover my nudity from his sight. I can’t look though, as I feel the bed dip beneath his weight, as he lays down beside me and begins to run his fingers gently down over the slope of my breast, down to my belly and over my hip. It feels too intimate, too tender.
“Do you know how to put a condom on?” he asks out of the blue, and I turn and stare at him, almost laughing in relief. Reaching over into the drawer of his bedside table, Max takes out a roll of purple foil covered Trojans and tears off a square and hands it to me.
Hands shaking, I rip open the package and shake the rubber ring loose. My eyes must be going wide or some other signal makes it obvious that I’m a novice at this too and Max’s hands cover my own as he guides them down, helping me unroll the latex tube over his still very hard cock until my hand curls around the base of him, feeling the coarse wiry hair there, a stark contrast to the heated silken smooth skin in my hand.
I look back up into his face and he smiles indulgently down at me before motioning for me to get on top. I stare at him in disbelief and shake my head. I just wanted a hard missionary position fuck but he insistently shakes his head.
“My petite, you said you wanted him to think you know what you’re doing,” he insists, taking my hand and pulling me over him until I’m straddling him, feeling my slick wet folds engulfing him. “This will please him and believe me, you’ll enjoy it too,” he advises as he help me to guide his cock inside of me. “Lean forward,” he instructs as all of the air is once again pushed out of my lungs by his entrance. “Do you feel that mon Coeur?” he asks, his fingers digging into my hips to slow my movement. “Do you feel your clit pressing against my pelvic bone?” I nod, my eyes screwed tightly shut as a shiver runs through my entire body. “And when I do this, ma belle?” he asks, pressing his body up and into mine. I nod again, moaning as I press back against him. “Oui, ma cherie, juste comme ça. Laisses-moi tu remplir. Mouvement maintenant, “ he urges, pushing up into me again and then I don’t need his guidance, I just do what feels right, riding him slowly and then quickly, feeling his hands sliding up to my breasts where he cups them, tweaking my nipples and rolling them between his fingers before sliding his hands back down to my hips and pulling me down hard over him until he is completely sheathed inside of me.
When the moment comes, when I feel like my entire body is going to burst open, when my breathing quickens to match my pulse and my entire body is locked in one long shuddering cry, he rolls me onto my back and holds me there, pinned beneath him. Looking up into his green eyes , his gaze locks with mine and for a moment his green eyes seem to swim before me and then his breath catches in his throat and his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a cry of triumph as he pushes himself deeply into me and I can feel his cock throbbing inside of me as we wrap our arms around one another and hold each other, forehead to forehead as our breathing begins to slow.
I shouldn’t have sent her away. As I jog around the athlete’s village in the chill of the early morning air just before dawn, I realize that she’s waited for this moment just as much as I have, that she’s cheered me and encouraged me towards this moment as much as my mother or sister have and both of them will be in the stands this afternoon when we play for the gold.
She’ll probably watch with the other guys, maybe at Mellon, maybe at Max or Jordy’s. I’m sure they’ll have a good time but it won’t be like I know it will be here.
Even though the sun hasn’t come up yet, I can feel the hum in the air, the anticipation. I feel it in the tension of my muscles, like I can’t relax. Like I won’t relax until it’s decided, will I have the gold around my neck or won’t I? Will I be Canada’s favored son or the loser who didn’t win the gold?
And if I don’t, I wonder as my breath hangs in the air before me as I push my body to the edge. If we lose to the US today, I know Taylor and my mom will still hug me and they’ll take some of the sting out of the look of disappointment that will be on my father’s face but she won’t be there. Just like she wasn’t when I won the Cup because I pushed her away, my friend.
I’ve been so selfish. I’ve taken her for granted. I knew she’d be back in the Harbour over the Summer and whether I realized it or not, I looked forward to her back handed compliments, her sarcasm that would be dulled by the real affection, the very real love in her eyes, the love that’s been there the whole time, the love I’ve just always thought would be there.
And now I’ve sent her home to wait for me because I can’t handle having her here worrying about me and chewing her nails to the bone for me. Because I can’t stop thinking about her soft body next to mine. Every other guy here has their girl, their wife, their family around them. They can all handle it, and now it’s too late for me to even tell her to come back.
“Earth to mon ami,” Flower laughs, catching up to me, his hair hidden under a bright red team Canada toque, his eyes flashing with mirth. Sure it’s easy for him. He’ll be watching from the press box and win or lose he’s just happy to have been here. The next games will be his. This time, if we win, he’ll get a medal and won’t have had to do more than be the best cheerleader we’ve got.
“Just thinking I shouldn’t have sent Mel back with the boys,” I tell him honestly and he nods.
“Oui, tu es très stupide,” he laughs, ducking a punch I send his way. “You’ll just have to make it up to her when we get home, est-ce que j’ai raison?”
“I plan to,” I sigh, giving him a shove before digging my feet in and taking off. I hear him laugh and then the sound of his feet on the pavement not far behind me. Damn, that always works with Max but then Flower is a better runner than Max will be.
Wearing one of his t-shirts that I picked up off of what I think, by the smell, is the clean pile of clothes, and by rolling down the waist of one of his pair of track pants I manage to clothe myself while I call for a taxi. I reach for the door handle and stop at the sound of him turning over in the wreck of sheets but he doesn’t wake.
For myself, as much as I’d been dragged down a time or two in between, I couldn’t really sleep. I had wanted to keep touching him, to feel him touching me. I understand now how you can become addicted to this, how you can want it all the time. From the first time the orgasm ripped through me with him firmly inside of me, I wanted more and more.
A wry smile plays across my lips as I turn to watch him lying there with his full lips just slightly parted, a smile of utter contentment on his face. He’s certainly fulfilled his end of the bargain. There can be no possible way now that Sidney will ever know what it was like to be with the Melody who knew nothing of men’s b bodies or how to make love. For that I hope that we will both be thankful.
Turning back, I slip out into the hall and tip toe down the stairs to clean up the evidence in the rec-room, tossing my dress and panties into a shopping back and even folding his briefs up at the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear the taxi honking outside.
Walk of shame, I’ve heard my friends call what I’m doing I think as I walk down his driveway and slip into the back of the cab, handing him a twenty as I give him my address. Funny, I don’t feel shame, or guilt, I think as I lean back in the seat and just for a minute close my eyes. I feel relieved yes, and…and something else I can’t quite place. Different I guess, I think as I shift a little uncomfortably trying to find a spot that doesn’t ache from either being newly opened, spanked or bitten. Yes, I think as I smile contentedly to myself, different, a woman, that must be it.