“MORE COFFEE?” ASHLEY offers, holding up the pot.
“No, thanks.” I also refuse the plate of pink-frosted cookies she pushes my way. I’m trying to be mindful of what I eat and even signed up for a trial at the gym across town to tone up before the wedding.
Sitting at Ashley’s kitchen table is a nice reprieve from the little table at Dunkin’ I’ve been using as a desk for the last few weeks. Dress shopping with her and Robin, where she believed she had been the one who helped choose my gown, had been a bonding experience for us. Even though I experienced choosing “the one” three separate times. I met my mother and sister at a David’s Bridal in Jersey last weekend, where we all celebrated finding the fabulous belted wedding dress of my dreams. What they all don’t know, won’t kill them.
“I’ve spoken to your mother, sister, Jayne”—she says her name in a low grumble—“and everyone is on board with the third for your bridal shower. We’re going to have it here at my house. Are you okay with that?”
“Sounds perfect. I hope you aren’t going to too much trouble.”
“No, I’m excited to have a project like this.” She pauses and drums her fingers on the table. “Can I tell you something?” She pauses, and I nod. “I’ve been feeling a little useless lately.”
“Useless? You have six children and a husband, how on earth do you feel useless?” On top of everything else she does, all of Ashley’s girls cheer. Cheerleading in Pennsylvania is like a full-time job for a parent. And yet she still has time for things like baking fabulous pink-frosted cookies. On second glance, I reach for one of the sweets, sinking my teeth into its sugary goodness.
“Sometimes, I don’t know.” Ashley stares off, absently grabs for another cookie, and chomps. “Don’t get me wrong, I love Patrick and the girls more than life itself, but sometimes, I just need… more.”
“Like more how?” The woman has everything. What could she be lacking? “Do you want to go back to work?” I ask, even though that’s crazy. Who would want to work if they didn’t have to?
“I really can’t right now. That would mean getting sitters for the girls and finding people to take them to and from school and practices and games, and it would be more of a headache than it’s worth. But I just feel so disconnected from everything. I need something that I can do from home where I can be here for the girls but still connect with other people.”
“What about doing something like I do for LazerShark? I connect with people all the time. Do you have any experience with PR?”
Ashley turns her nose up. “Ugh, I would hate that. No offense,” she quickly adds. Sure. None taken. I try not to roll my eyes. God, she’s so much like Jayne. “I tried writing, but all that came from it was a million rejection letters.”
“Well, if you like writing, why not try again but do something different this time?”
“Oh, I have.” She waves me off. “I wrote at least five different children’s stories. The girls loved them all, but no one else really did. I guess I could try again. I do have an idea about a unicorn that has a passion for dance.”
“No, not a kid’s book, write a grown-up book.” I gesture with my head toward the huge overstuffed bookshelf in her living room. “You obviously read a lot of books, why not write something like that?”
“I can’t write a book like that,” she says, keeping her eyes fixed on the bookshelf. “I haven’t even been reading nearly as much as I used to. Once the girls came along, it became all about their books.” She releases a breathy sigh. “But I did love to read romance. God, I used to read everything.” Her fingers tap the table excitedly. “Have you ever read Abbi Glines?” I shake my head. “What about Colleen Hoover? Tiffany Reisz? Jude Deveraux? Judy Blume?” I continue to shake my head. “But you have to have read Beverly Cleary?”
“No.”
“So, you’ve never even read a Ramona book?”
Who the heck is Ramona?
“I’m not really a big reader,” I admit, and she gasps.
“I mean, if I wrote a book like that, what would I even write about? I know they say write what you know. Right now, I know little girls.” I go to say something but I don’t get a chance. “But if I go back to what I used to know, that might be something.” She zeroes in on the wall lost in thought. “Hmm. Did I ever tell you about how I met Patrick?”
“High school?” I say. I know they were high school sweethearts.
“No, it was actually way before that, but we didn’t see each other again until high school and then there was the Kent thing and it was just crazy. My life was so different. Back then I was a mess. Completely clueless. But then my big romance with Patrick came along. Thank God. If it hadn’t been for Patrick, I’d have probably become a stripper somewhere with the words ‘Boner Garage’ tattooed above my hooch.” She gets up from the table and leaves the room, returning two seconds later with her laptop in tow. She sets it up on the table and takes a seat. “Go ahead, you go back to work and I’m gonna see if you’re right. Maybe I can write something a bit more grown-up.”
I stare in disbelief at the back of her laptop. Did she just say boner garage? And what’s the Kent thing? I may not be a big reader, but I think I’d read that story.
A knock sounds at the front door. “Hello?” Kent calls into the house. “Ash, you here?”
“Why is he here?” Ashley stays focused on the monitor in front of her, furiously typing away. “Crap. I don’t want to lose my train of thought. Can you go see what he wants?” she asks, continuing to type.
“Sure.” I push away from the table and go meet Kent in the front hall. I think I may have just created a monster; answering the door is the least I can do.
“Holly?” he says, surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?”
“I was just visiting with Ashley and doing a little work.”
“Oh, well, I’m actually glad to see you. Patrick is on his way home, and my parents are out so we thought we’d go over and move the beds for you guys.” Kent pushes his long hair away from his face, showing off the latest tattoo on his neck.
“Move what beds?” I ask, confused.
“Matthew told us about my mom and the squeaky bed situation, so while they’re out, we’re gonna go make a quick switch and move my old bed out and replace it with the new one from Patrick’s old room.”
Matthew told them about the squeaky bed. That means he also told them why it was an issue. Kent and Patrick are here to move beds so that Matthew and I can have sex without squeaking. I have no idea how to react or what to say.
“Squeaky bed?” I play dumb, looking up at the ceiling as if I have no idea what he’s talking about.
“Yeah, Matty told me about how my parents moved in the squeaky bed and—” He stops, catching himself before continuing. “And he said something about the old springs poking you guys in the back.” He finishes with a lie, and I am so thankful for his fast thinking.
“Yeah. Poking.” I rub my back for emphasis, playing up the lie.
“I think I hear Patrick now. So, I’m gonna go head out and meet him, and then you and Matthew can have fun tonight.” His face freezes in a distressed frown. “Ya know, not sleeping on a springy mattress and hurting your back and all.” He swallows. “I mean, the other mattress is springy too, but in a good way. So you guys can… um, sleep.” He swipes at his forehead. “Okay. Yeah. Bye.” He stumbles out the door, slamming it behind him.
Well, that was humiliating. I close my eyes and press my cold hands to my warm face. No more squeaky bed. Great. That means tonight we can have sex and his parents won’t know.
But his brothers will.
I SIT ON the edge of the bed and rock side to side. Silence. No squeak.
My brother’s lack of tact this afternoon was a disaster, but I forgive him, since he arranged to not only move out the old bed and move in the newer, quieter one, but to do it without my parents knowing. There’s no need to make my mom aware that her plan to sabotage our sex life has been foiled.
Holly kneels on top of the new bed, doing a slight shimmy, the curves of her voluptuous body bouncing as she tests for noise. Nada. The way she bites down on her lip is an invitation. Tonight we are going to have sex. Actual intercourse. My dick hardens instantly. I’m not gonna hold out long this first time, but the second time, I will.
“Wait, I have something,” Holly whispers, and moves over to one of the boxes on the floor. “Don’t look,” she instructs quietly over her shoulder, rummaging through her belongings.
I close my eyes. I don’t know what it is, but I know whatever it is, I’m gonna love it. I hear what sounds like clothes hitting the floor. I cup my hands over my cock, trying to calm it down before I explode.
“Okay, open your eyes.”
Zoinga! She stands before me in nothing but a pair of thigh highs with little red bows. Warmth trickles from my dick. I am going to shoot off like a rocket the second she touches me.
“You remember these?” She rubs up against me and breathes the words into my ear. “I was wearing them the first night we met.”
“How could I forget?” I met Holly on Halloween. She was dressed as a nurse, a sexy one, wearing a short dress and thigh highs. She mistook me for her blind date. Sucked for her date; best thing that ever happened to me.
Something rattles behind her back as she fidgets with whatever it is and giggles.
“Ta-da.” She turns around and shows me her wrists connected together with handcuffs.
“Fuck.” I exhale, followed by a deep groan.
“Shhh!” she pleads in a whisper shout. “We have to be quiet.”
All I want to do is pull her naughty handcuffed body over my knee and slap that bare ass, but I can’t because of the noise restriction. Dammit, don’t my parents ever go out at night anymore? I need to get them a gift certificate to Red Lobster or something.
Holly lies down on the new mattress, lifts her cuffed hands over her head, and spreads her legs for me. I tear at my clothes and toss them aside. It has been way too long. Just seeing her curvy, bare body has me ready to detonate. I climb on top of her, giving her large breasts a courtesy squeeze before entering her.
Pump and pump and pu… I pull out quick in order to try and hold out but my attempt fails and I make a mess of the blankets next to us.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble into her shoulder. Two and a half pumps, I really held out there.
“It’s okay.” She gives a breathy giggle. “I know you have a few other tricks while you regroup.”
“Yes, I do.” My teeth nip at her skin and I love the way her arms stay locked over her head as I continue to nibble, bite, and lick my way down.
Holly squirms from my teasing, and her body nearly wriggles both of us right off the mattress on the left side. I get up on my knees, reach up under her thighs, and move her to the center of the two mattresses. Once she’s situated, with plenty of room for us to maneuver, I prepare to dip down to her sweet spot. My mouth opens, her legs part, and I dive down for the orgasmic attack. But something happens. The beds split apart, and our bodies go tumbling between the two mattresses with a horrifically loud crash. My arms flail and I try to brace myself and save her, but to no avail. My elbow jabs into a solid surface, and Holly screams. We’re tangled in the covers, and the movements we make in order to untangle ourselves only twist us up even more. I stretch my leg out to part the beds and give us room to move in the cramped crack we’re wedged in. The few inches the beds shift is enough for me to pull free of the comforter and lift myself off Holly.
“Oh, God. Ow. Unlock these, please,” she cries, shaking the cuffs around her wrists.
“Where’s the key?” I ask frantically, pulling her up and onto the bed on the right side.
“There’s no key, just find the button and press it. I can’t do it.” Her voice is strained; she’s in pain. I click the button and remove the cuffs. I run over and click on a light. Her wrists are raw and bleeding from the metal that dug into her delicate skin. She raises a hand up to a red swelling on the side of her face. “Your elbow,” she supplies, causing my heart to sink. That was the hard surface. Her face.
“I’m so sorry. Let me go get something to clean you up.” I don’t know what happened, or why the beds did that. I grab my boxers off the floor and open the door to head for the bathroom. As soon as it opens, my mother jumps.
“Matthew, I was just about to knock. I heard a loud crash and Holly scream. What happened?” She steps inside and Holly scrambles to bring the blanket up over her exposed chest; when she does this, her red-bowed thigh highs peek out. She tugs on the blanket, trying to cover all of her, but it’s too late. My mother has already witnessed the crime scene. Beds broken apart, Holly half-naked, fishnet legs, handcuffs on the floor, and me in nothing but my boxers.
“Everything’s fine,” I say, pushing my mom back into the hallway. “The bed just split. Go, I’ll take care of it.”
“What happened?” My dad appears rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “How did the beds split? We roped them together.”
Seems Patrick and Kent forgot that part. Motherfuckers.
“They’re okay. Let’s just go back to sleep,” my mother says in a shaky voice. I’ve just killed her. There is no way she is going to be able to unsee what she just saw. “Matthew, make sure Holly doesn’t have a concussion.”
“A concussion?” My father looks concerned, now fully awake.
“They’re fine. Matthew can handle it.” My mother takes him by the arm and leads him away.
As bad as that was, there is no time to deal with it now. My priority is Holly. I continue to the bathroom and grab what I need. When I return, she is curled in a ball, her sobs muffled by a pillow.
“Are you okay?” I stroke her hair, and she ignores me. I reach for one of her wrists and use the wet washcloth to start rinsing off the blood. Her body continues to shake from her sobs. “The cuts aren’t that bad.” I clean off the other side and inspect the superficial wounds. “Let me see your face.” She turns, and even though her face is red and puffy from crying, I can tell that more likely than not she is going to have a black eye from where my elbow got her.
“How am I ever going to face your parents again?” she says through tears. “I think we need to take this as a sign.”
“A sign?” I gulp. Does she think this is a sign we shouldn’t get married?
“Yes, that we shouldn’t have sex.”
What! All the air expels from my lungs in one loud breath. Did she just say no sex?
“Not until we’re out of this house. Not until after the wedding and we’re on our honeymoon.” She stops crying and wipes away a tear from her swollen eye. “I can’t wait for our honeymoon.”
Oh, shit. The honeymoon. I still haven’t told her.