Chapter 05
March
This month my name is Brandy, and I giggle a lot. This annoys Joe, but he pretends it doesn’t because he wants to get laid. I also snap my gum while we’re talking, unaware this makes him want to scream. You wouldn’t know it by the way he smiles. All teeth.
I met Joe a while ago in the coffee shop where I work. He comes in a few times a week for coffee and muffins for his office. The other girls and I giggle about him all the time, because he’s so cute. A businessman. I have a thing for businessmen, all buttoned up in their suits and ties. I like to think about what they look like under all those clothes.
He asks me out, not for coffee, thank god, though you’d be surprised how many assholes do. What, I work in a coffee shop, you think I don’t like to do anything else?
No, Joe asks me out someplace real nice, a real fancy place with tablecloths and flowers and, like, waiters who describe the specials with all these fancy words like they’re reading a play.
I borrowed a dress from Cyndi, the girl I work with. She’s way jealous Joe asked me out, but that’s cool because she’s got a boyfriend anyway so she can’t really go out with Joe even if he did ask, which he didn’t because he asked me, instead. Brandy.
“Like the song?” He asks when the waiter’s gone with our orders.
“Huh?” I never heard of a song called Brandy, though I do know it’s a kind of booze.
“Never mind.” Joe doesn’t seem to talk much, which is cool, because I talk enough for both of us.
I tell him all about the classes I’m taking, and he seems really interested that I’m studying communications. I want to be an anchorperson on the news someday, but, like, it’s totally cool if I have to be the weather girl first because everyone has to start somewhere. Joe nods at this, like he totally gets it, and I’m glad because my last date just tuned me out and tried to get into my pants right away, if you can believe it. Like I’d just put out, just like that. I work in a coffee shop. I’m not a prostitute.
Joe listens to me all through dinner, which is awesome, real linguine and clam sauce. I ask him if he wants some but he just shakes his head and says he doesn’t eat shellfish. That’s fine, because he doesn’t mind if I nibble at his dinner. I mean, maybe I should have asked before sneaking a bite, but then he says don’t worry, go ahead and finish it if I want, he’s done.
Well, hey, I’m not about to pass that up. I don’t make much working in the coffee shop and college is a real bitch to pay for. Linguine beats the hell out of ramen noodles.
“It’s nice to see a girl who eats.” Joe settles back with his glass of wine, watching me, and I pause.
I figure he’s making fun of me, maybe, because I know I could lose a few pounds. I straighten my back to make sure there aren’t any rolls showing over my belt and I push my boobs forward. When the waiter asks if we want any dessert, I’m dying to dive into a piece of chocolate lava cake, but I say no, thanks.
“You’re sure?” Joe lifts one perfect, golden eyebrow, and my whole body feels gooey and warm. He’s so cute. “We could share a piece.”
Sharing’s okay, so I tell him that’s great. His grin is like looking at sunshine. I melt a little more. God, he’s hot. And sweet. And a really, really good listener. He’s the nicest guy I’ve been out with in, like, forever.
The waiter brings our chocolate cake and two forks, but Joe pushes the plate more toward me. I love that he’s a gentleman, letting me take the first bite. All of the bites, actually.
He watches me eat. His eyes follow the fork from the plate to my mouth and stay there. I lick my lips, afraid I’ve smeared them with chocolate. My heart’s beating a little faster with all the attention he’s paying me, and I’m not sure what to think of it. He’s looking at my lips as if he might want to eat them instead of the cake. My thighs quiver at the thought.
I wouldn’t mind if Joe wanted to lick away the chocolate from my lips. That’d be super hot. It’s been a long time since a guy kissed me, nearly a month. I made out with someone from my Comm Media class down at the Hardware Bar, but that’s all. He wanted more, and, like, I’m cool with the whole friend with benefits thing. It’s just that you’ve got to be friends first, and I barely knew him.
By now I’ve finished all the cake and Joe’s only licked up the whipped cream. He eats the strawberry, too. It’s my turn to watch his mouth work. I watch the way his tongue licks the cream off the berry’s pointed end and I imagine he’s licking me, instead. This time, my clit pulses and I shiver.
“Are you ready to go?”
I’m not. I’d really like to sit here with Joe for a few more hours. I don’t want our date to be over, not when I’m having such a good time.
It’s not like I can say that, right? I nod. “If you want.”
I still hope he’ll say, “let’s have another drink, Brandy, ’cuz I’m having so much fun I don’t want to leave.” But, of course, a smooth guy like Joe doesn’t say stuff like that. He might look as yummy as a movie star, but this isn’t the movies.
He helps me with my jacket and when his hands stroke my shoulders, I want to throw myself into his arms and attack his mouth, right there. I hold off, though, because this is a real classy place, and besides, I don’t want Joe to think I’m easy.
He listens to me talk some more on the drive back to my place. I’ve never been with a guy who listens like Joe does, and I know he’s really paying attention because every so often he makes a little noise and nods his head. I give him directions to my apartment building. When we pull up in front, I look up to see if the lights are on in the front room. It’s dark, which means my roommate isn’t home yet. I really, really, really don’t want this night to end. It’s been so perfect, from the way he held the door for me to the way he picked up the tab without a second thought.
So I invite Joe inside.
“Sure,” Joe says. “That sounds nice.”
For a second I’m sure he’s going to say no. His face has that look guys get when they’re trying hard to think of an excuse to turn you down. But then he smiles at me again, until I’m like, a puddle of goo on the front seat of his car.
Will he think it’s nice when I jump on top of him and shag him silly? That’s what I wonder when I lead him inside and show him where to hang up his coat. I hang mine, too, and I’m turning to ask him if he wants something to drink when the sight of him dries up every single word I meant to say.
He’s taken off his suit jacket. His shirt is pink. Damn, that is hott with two freaking t’s. Dark pink oxford shirt with a deep maroon tie. His pants and jacket are charcoal grey with the hottest pin stripes I hadn’t noticed in the restaurant’s dim lighting. He’s watching me gape like the biggest dork ever as he tugs his tie loose from his throat and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, and so I recover real fast and pretend I had something in my throat to clear it.
“Want something to drink?” I squeak and my cheeks like, catch totally on fire. Joe doesn’t seem to really notice, or maybe he’s such a gentleman he pretends he doesn’t. Either way, his smile fills me up like someone pumped me full of helium. I want to float up to the ceiling from that smile.
“Just water.”
I’ve seen him drink coffee, sometimes tea, a glass of wine with dinner. Now, water. I don’t have any bottled water and I’m a little ashamed, but he says tap water’s fine, and can he have some ice?
I have ice. I have some limes and lemons, too. They’ve been in the fridge for, like, ever, and they’re actually my roommate Susie’s but she won’t care if I use them. I slice them into quarters and Joe takes a slice of each for his glass. I do, too. It tastes good, but then I get a full-on taste of lemon and it makes my mouth twist.
Joe laughs. “Sour?”
I realize he’s moved pretty close to me. He smells as good as he looks, which I’ve already noticed is pretty damn delicious. In fact, he smells better. It’s not Drakkar or Polo but something else, I’m not really sure what. So I ask him.
Joe laughs again and puts his glass on the counter. He leans against it, one foot crossed over the other. Even his shoes are pretty and I realize I’ve never asked him what he does. I don’t really know anything about him, even though I’ve told him plenty about me.
“Soap and water.”
“You don’t wear cologne?”
Joe shakes his head and passes a hand over his face. “Irritates my skin.”
He’s got my hand in his before I can think about it, and he passes it down his cheek. His skin is warm and smooth, but I can feel a hint of bristle waiting to come out. His hair’s the color of the butterscotch cake we sell at the coffee shop. His eyebrows, too, which are bushy but perfectly shaped at the same time. The bristles on his chin faintly scratch my palm.
“That would be bad,” I say. “Irritated skin, I mean.”
I want him to kiss me. I want it so bad I’m already tipping my face up toward his. He’s not that tall, maybe not quite six feet, and I don’t have to get on tip-toe to reach his mouth.
He lets me kiss him. I say lets me because he doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t pull me closer, either. I’m used to guys diving down the back of my throat with their tongues right away, but this kiss is sweet. Our mouths don’t even open.
I pull away, giddy at the taste of his lips and fear I’ve just made an ass out of myself again. Joe’s smile gives me confidence. He doesn’t look mad or anything.
“Brandy,” Joe says. “You’re a very nice girl.”
I groan and roll my eyes. “But…?”
“But nothing.” He shrugs.
“But you don’t want to kiss me?” I have to ask, even though I’m sure the answer will disappoint me.
It doesn’t. “There are lots of places to kiss you.”
Whoa. Hot. Hot, hot, hot. I’m suddenly so hot I have to fan my face with my hand. A flurry of giggles burst out of me like bubbles. Joe smiles and puts his hands on my hips.
“Why don’t you take me into your bedroom?”
I’m more than willing to do that, all thoughts of him thinking I’m easy flying right out of my head. Joe doesn’t make me feel as if I’m being easy when he takes my hand and pushes open the door to my tiny bedroom. Joe makes me forget I’ve vowed to be more than a random drunken hookup or a friend with benefits.
I’m really glad I cleaned up in here before I brought Joe home. I got the small bedroom because Susie’s the one who signed the lease first. The bed takes up most of the space, with just a few inches to walk around it, but Joe’s there to do the horizontal boogaloo, not the cha-cha. We don’t need anything but the bed.
We stand at the foot of it. His hands go to my hips again. I put my hands on the front of his shirt, which feels smooth under my fingertips. I pull on his tie, undo the knot, slip it free. I undo the next few buttons of his shirt while he stands there. I don’t look up at his face. I concentrate on his body. I pull his shirt from his waistband, finish unbuttoning it, fold it open.
I run my hands over his chest. The hair there’s a little darker than butterscotch, more like…caramel. Suddenly, I’m shivering, and I lean forward to kiss his chest. The hairs tickle my cheeks and I close my eyes to breathe in his scent. Soap and water never smelled so good.
When I look up at him a second later, he’s smiling. I love that smile, how it spreads across his face and wrinkles the corners of his eyes. It makes his top lip disappear and when it gets bigger, I catch a glimpse of straight, white teeth.
I help him off with his shirt. He stands, wearing only his pants. I want to lick him all over, gobble him up as if he’s a cinnamon roll. That’s what he reminds me of. A piece of golden pastry. He looks delicious and I give in to the temptation. I lean forward and lick his chest. His heart beats under my tongue. I want to make it beat faster. I want to make him sweat and moan. I want to make him jerk and cry out. I want to make Joe come.
Joe pushes my shoulder gently until I stand up straight, and then we’re sinking slowly onto my bed. He’s kissing my throat while his hands slide up from my hips to my chest. My head hits the pile of stuffed animals and pillows and I reach up to toss them aside so we have more room.
I’m a bigger girl, but Joe made me feel like he’s all over me. In a good way. Like a guy should be all over a girl, be bigger than her. He covers me with his body as his hands and mouth roam.
I expect him to take my clothes off right away, to get right down to business, totally like guys my age. Joe doesn’t seem in a hurry. He kisses my throat and shoulder as he rubs my boobs through my shirt. He unbuttons my shirt slowly, one button at a time, moving his mouth lower and lower as he does.
He kisses the tops of my breasts, then hooks his finger into the catch at the back of my bra and tugs it. I hold my breath when it opens and he peels away the lace. I really want him to like my body.
When he sucks my nipple, I can’t stop the little moan. He’s so good. He knows how to flick his tongue over it, then suck so sweet and soft. Some guys latch on as though they’re trying to breastfeed, but not Joe. He mouths my nipples, one then the other, moving on and off until I can’t stay still beneath him and have to squirm.
He pauses long enough to help me out of my shirt and bra, then pushes me gently back against the pillows. He looks me over again the way he’d watched me eat the cake.
Everything inside me is hot and liquid from the way he’s been sucking on my nipples. I feel shivery all over, too, when he touches me. The feelings echo between my legs. I’m wet, my panties damp and rubbing my swollen clit.
Joe puts a hand to his belt. I get up on my elbows to watch him unbuckle it. When he opens the button of his pants, I catch myself licking my lips. I look up, and he’s watching me.
“You sure about this, Brandy?”
Whoa. He’s asking me? No guy bothers to ask, not once we’ve gotten this far.
“Yeah, Joe, I’m sure.”
I’m more than sure. I’m aching for it. Susie told me how she gets when her boyfriend goes away, how she gets so horny her pussy feels like it’s crying. I’ve never really understood what that means. I mean, I know what it’s like to be horny, but I’ve never really felt my body crave cock like it did when Joe pushed his pants down over his hips.
He gets naked real easy, too, and why not? He has nothing to be ashamed of. His body’s just as nice bare as it is dressed. He’s lean, but muscled. Thick hair covers his legs, makes a nest for his cock, spreads up his belly to surround his nipples. More hair covers his forearms. I’ve never liked hair on a man before, but then…well, I’d only ever really been with guys before. Joe’s a man. All man.
Intimidated, I hesitate with my hands on the elastic waist of my skirt. It’s fine for him to strip out of his clothes; he looks like something out of a fashion magazine. Me, on the other hand…
“C’mon, Brandy,” Joe urges, his voice low. “Don’t be shy.”
Hell, fine, okay. I push down my skirt and lay back, hella glad I put on my good panties for this date. They’re pretty and lacey and cover most of the bulges without looking like granny panties.
Joe kneels by my shins and slides his hands up my thighs. His hands have long fingers without calluses. His nails, blunt and square, scratch lightly at my skin. My thighs, when my legs are closed, have no space between them, but his thumbs part me like a knife slicing cream cheese. He opens me slowly, carefully, leaving me no room to resist.
His hands smooth over my legs, catching me just behind the knees and bending them a little. His smile reassures me. My heart pounds so fast I feel it in my eardrums, in the base of my throat and my wrists. Especially between my legs.
He lifted my foot and turned his head to kiss my ankle. His mouth leaves a wet spot. My hips lift in response, but he doesn’t look away from my leg. Ankle, shin, knee. By the time he gets to my thigh he’s on his hand and knees. His mouth moves higher and his body stretches out on the bed. By the time he gets to my pussy he’s laying between my legs and I’m holding my breath.
He props himself on his forearm and uses a finger to rub the front of my panties. Up and down, over the bump of my clit and down lower. The lace is wet, it has to be. It presses my pussy, the thin band of fabric narrowing as I shift. I can’t look down at him now. I have to throw my head back, close my eyes. Joe traces a finger along the material between my legs. He strokes my skin, then hooks his finger under the edge of my panties and pulls them down. I moan again. He’s looking at me down there, at my pussy. I might fight with my weight and worry about my ass and thighs and belly, but my pussy is always what it is.
I tense, waiting, breathless. Joe’s tongue flicks along my belly. I think of how he’d licked the cream off the strawberry and my thighs open wider, inviting him.
He doesn’t lick me, though. He uses his fingertip, wet from his mouth, and at first I’m disappointed. A few seconds later, though—and it’s so good, better than anything I’ve ever had before—I’m moaning and jerking, like, in five minutes.
Sometimes when I play with myself I can come real fast, but it’s usually so much harder with guys. They don’t ever really seem to know what they’re doing. They’re too fast, too slow, too hard, too soft. I mean, they try real hard and stuff, but mostly they don’t want to take the time to really figure out how to get me off. Guys watch too many pornos where all the dude has to do is give a couple rubs and the girl’s ready to come. In real life it takes a lot more than that.
Joe’s not having any trouble. His hands move up and down my thighs, tickling my pussy lips and even back toward my ass. I don’t have time to be thinking about anything but how good he’s making me feel. I want to come so bad I can’t think of anything else, and I think it can’t get any better until he puts his fingers inside me.
I totally can’t stand it. My body shakes. I toss my head back and forth and arch my back, crying out his name. I don’t care who hears me, not even if Susie has come home. I can’t be quiet.
The pressure in my pussy builds up and up. My toes curl, digging into the bed, and I push myself against his hand. I think he puts a third finger in me. I’m coming. Everything pulls in tight like a fist closing. Then I explode.
It takes me a minute to catch my breath. I look down. Joe’s rolled onto his side, one hand on my thigh. His eyes are closed. I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
“Joe?” I sound hesitant, but it’s just I’m not really sure I can talk.
He cracks open an eye and tilts his head to look at me. “Yeah?”
“Wow.” I lick my mouth, not sure what to say.
That smile again. Super yummo. I was afraid I’d be embarrassed after that, but I’m not. I can’t be anything but, like, totally just…whoa.
“Good?” He asks me. His hand rubs my thigh, up and down.
“Yeah, really good.” I push up on my hands. “I want…I want to make you feel good.”
His smile lifts more on one side than the other. “Good.”
He moves without hurrying, getting on his knees. His cock isn’t hard, and that worries me. Maybe I’m not turning him on. I mean, I’ve never been naked with a guy who wasn’t hard. I’ve never really even seen a soft dick before, not up close. Not that Joe’s cock is soft, really, it’s sort of in between.
I sit up. Does he want me to suck him a little bit? I wouldn’t mind. Joe strokes himself and I watch, fascinated, as his dick gets longer and stiffer. His thighs and butt are lighter than the rest of him, but his prick is a cool pinkish color that gets darker as he strokes it.
He asks me why I’m staring, and I have to tell him the truth. I haven’t really seen a lot of dicks up close. His mouth twists again when I say this, one side going up and the other going down, like he’s not sure if he wants to laugh at me or not.
“I mean, I’ve totally seen a few,” I say, backtracking hastily. “Just…”
“Not up close. I get it.” Joe’s hand moves up and down along his cock and that sight is getting me turned on again. He’s so easy with himself, it’s not embarrassing at all.
None of it is, actually, which is totally cool, because usually I’m, like, nervous being naked because I’m not small and skinny. But with Joe, I don’t feel like the bulges matter as much. Maybe because he’s not staring, he’s just…looking.
“I haven’t been with a ton of guys,” I tell him. I know it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I mean, it’s actually something to boast about, you know, because lots of girls my age are total skanks and just, like fuck any guy who wants them.
“That’s all right.” He says it like it doesn’t matter to him, one way or the other.
He keeps stroking his dick, and I can’t tear my gaze away. His forearms are so fucking sexy, I can’t stand it. Every time he twists his wrists the cords stand out in his forearms and I want to lick them the same way I wanted to lick his chest earlier.
Joe moves to sit with his back against the wall, since my bed’s on a Hollywood frame and I have no headboard. He opens his legs and pumps his dick in his fist. Now it’s really hard. I can see his veins. It’s a lot bigger, too, and I’m kind of scared to think that could fit inside me. But I want it to fit inside me.
“Come here, Brandy.”
I move a little closer to him. Joe takes his hand away from his dick. It stands up, bobbing a little, and I bite my lips against a smile.
“Here’s your chance to have a look.”
I look up at his face, fast, trying to see if he’s making fun. He is smiling, but in a nice way. He leans back and puts his hands on his thighs.
He’s all mine. Whoa. Hotness. I move closer on the bed and there’s really nothing to be shy about. In the porn movies, dicks are always these huge, purple, disgusting things. Joe’s isn’t like that. It matches the rest of him. Looking at it, I want to touch it and taste it. I want to see if I can make him feel good, too.
He puts his hand on the top of my head when I move closer and put him in my mouth. I go too far at first and choke a little. He doesn’t push into me right away, which is totally great. I suck him a little. The skin on his dick feels thin and it moves up and down when I do. Underneath it’s hard, but not like metal or anything. It’s got a little bend to it, too, which I discover when he makes a noise.
“Sorry.” My cheeks are hot, but Joe only shakes his head.
“Like you’re sucking a popsicle,” he tells me. “Up and down, with a little extra at the tip.”
I never had a guy give me pointers before, and I’m worried that I suck…at sucking. So the next time I go down on him, I concentrate on pretending his dick’s a popsicle. Cherry,’ cuz that’s my favorite. He doesn’t taste like a cherry popsicle, he’s more like spicy and tangy. It’s still good, though.
I must be doing all right because Joe starts to pump his hips into my mouth a little. I choke again and pull off. I move like I’m going to get on top of him, thinking it would be better to just let him fuck me, but Joe stops me.
He looks into my eyes. “Brandy. Put your hand around the bottom of my cock and use that to guide it in and out of your mouth. That way, if I thrust too hard, you can keep me from gagging you. And it feels good for me, too.”
This feels like a lesson all of a sudden but he says it in such a way I can’t really do anything but nod. I do what he says and wrap my fingers around his dick before I slide it into my mouth. He’s right, it does give me more control over it. Even when he lifts his hips, I can keep him from pushing in too far.
Hey, being able to keep him from sticking his dick in too far makes me actually like sucking it. I’m not afraid he’s going to gag me. And listening to him moan is a real turn-on.
“Use your other hand on my balls.”
I never had a guy talk to me like that, and I want to giggle. I do giggle, but I do what he says. They’re soft and warm, covered in hair. I hold them like eggs. He likes it, I can tell, because his dick pulses in my mouth and his breathing gets faster.
Joe gathers my hair at the base of my neck to keep it out of my face. It’s totally nice of him to do that. I suck him harder and faster, and when I start to use my hand at the same time he really lets out a groan.
The hand not holding back my hair ends up between my legs, and I move a little so it’s easier for him to reach my pussy. Facing away from him, I can also take him deeper inside my mouth, and I’m not afraid to do it now that I know how.
I’m on my knees, a hand on his dick and one on his balls, using my mouth to suck him off. Joe’s got his hand on the back of my neck and the other stroking my clit again. He pinches and rolls it, and my hips jerk. I have to rock against his hand, hard, it’s like my body’s taken over. I suck him faster and hump his hand. I’m moving all over the place, this feels so good. Everything’s wet. My pussy’s dripping, his dick and my hand slide in my spit. I try real hard to remember his dick’s supposed to be a popsicle, but with his thumb rubbing my clit I really can’t think of anything but that.
We’re both moving. I try to match him but my body’s shaking. I’m coming again. Whoa, I never had two orgasms before. I suck down, hard and Joe lets out a groan. He pulls my hair hard enough to pull my mouth mostly off his dick, and when he does that, he comes. His dick gets huge in my mouth and I can feel it squirting. I’m stunned as his jizz fills my mouth, and I swallow it before I really know what I’m doing. I pop my lips off his dick with a sound. My pussy’s still humping against his hand and another wave of orgasm rolls over me, smaller, but still awesome.
Whoa. Joe just jacked off in my mouth and I didn’t puke. He made me come three times. My pussy’s leaked all over my legs and his crotch is wet with my spit and the last drops of come that missed my mouth. I think I’m in love.
“Wow.” I roll off him and onto my back, my arms and legs loose and floppy. His knees are next to my face, but my hair’s covering them.
I think I might fall asleep like that, I’m so busted. Joe doesn’t move either for a couple minutes. When he does, it’s to push my leg off his chest.
I sit up. “You are so not like any guy I’ve ever been with.”
His eyes are closed, and he doesn’t open them to answer. “Is that good?”
“It’s great!” A giggle bursts out of me and I curl up next to him. I just want to touch him all over. I want to attach myself to him. “You’re so not a dude.”
He cracks open an eye and tilts his head to look down at me. “I’m not a…dude?”
I shake my head. “You’re not a boy, I mean.”
He shifts a little out from under me. “I guess I’m not.”
I sigh happily and put my head back on his shoulder. I can’t get close enough to him. I throw an arm over his chest and he makes a small sound, like “oof!”
“I’m real glad you asked me out tonight, Joe.”
He sort of goes “uh huh,” and we’re quiet for a few minutes. I’m getting a little cold, but I don’t want to get up just yet. I’m full of what I’ve heard Susie call “afterglow,” which I never understood until now.
“Man, this is what really great sex feels like.”
Joe shifts a bit again. “Glad I could oblige.”
I push up on my elbow to put my head in my hand and look at him. I chew my lower lip for a second until I figure it can’t hurt to ask. “Was I okay?”
“Yes, Brandy,” Joe says, his eyes closed again. “You were okay.”
“Just…okay?”
He doesn’t open his eyes, but he does smile. “You were good.”
That makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. I’ve had a couple guys tell me I’m good before, but coming from Joe it seems more of a compliment. Even though he was giving me tips and stuff, he still thought I was good.
“You must’ve been with lots of women.”
He’s quiet for a second. “Depends on what you think is a lot.”
“More than I’ve been with guys, I mean.”
This makes him look at me. “I’m older than you, Brandy.”
Yeah, I knew that. “How old are you?”
Not that I care, really. I rub my fingers through his chest hair until he puts his hand over mine to stop it. Joe rubs his forehead a little, as if he’s getting a headache.
“I’m going to be thirty-five.”
“Whoa!” I hadn’t meant to sound so surprised, but it slips out. “I thought you were, like, twenty-seven or so.”
“I’m not.”
I sit up. “Whoa.”
Joe sits up, too, and there’s a space between us that wasn’t there a minute ago. “Why ‘whoa?’”
I shrug. “You’re, like, twelve years older than I am, that’s all.”
I don’t know why he looks so annoyed by that. It’s not like I ever pretended I was older or something. I mean, what did he expect? I work in a coffee shop and go to college, how old did he think I could be?
“Is that a problem?” I ask as he swings his legs over the side of the bed.
“No, don’t worry about it.”
I don’t need a degree in advanced rocket science to figure out he’s leaving. “So…how come you’re leaving?”
He looks over his shoulder at me. “I have to work in the morning, Brandy.”
“Oh.” I don’t want my voice to sound small and hurt, but it comes out that way. “But…you’ll call me, right?”
The second it’s out of my mouth I wish I hadn’t said it. I can tell by the way he hesitates that he’s going to say no, or say yes but be lying. I’d rather he didn’t lie.
“I don’t think so.”
That’s not a yes or a no, and I’m not sure what to think. “Is it because I’m fat?”
Joe whirls, face shocked. “Brandy, no! You’re not fat.”
He reaches out to push my hair off over my shoulders, and I believe he means it.
“Is it because you think I’m a slut?”
Joe sighs, real heavy, and rubs his forehead again. “I don’t think you’re a slut.”
I frown. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” He turns his body to face me. “You’re not fat, and you’re not a slut. You’re a nice girl and we had a good time tonight. Going to bed with me doesn’t make you a slut, okay? I hate it when girls think that.”
“You do?” The way he says it makes me think he’s been with lots and lots of girls. Jealousy’s bubbles aren’t nearly as nice as giggles.
“Yeah, I do. There’s nothing wrong with two people having a good time together in bed, as long as they’re both careful and they both want to do it.”
He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself instead of me. We stare at each other for a minute. I don’t know what to think. A little while ago I was sure he was going to be my next boyfriend, but now I’m not sure I ever want to see him again. Joe seems complicated. Maybe it’s because he’s old.
“Well then,” I ask him, “what is it?”
“You’re young,” says Joe, as if that makes sense, even though it doesn’t.
“Huh?”
He sighs again and gets up to start putting on his clothes. “You’re young, Brandy. Really young.”
“I’m…I’m young?” I think I should be pissed off.
“Really young.”
I get the feeling he doesn’t just mean my age. “Well, you’re old!”
He’s got his clothes on now, though nothing’s buttoned or zipped, and he’s got his tie clutched in one hand like it’s a snake he’s trying to choke. Joe runs a hand through his hair. I’ve never seen him look so rumpled.
“No hard feelings?” He asks.
“No. I guess not.”
What else can I say? I can diet and exercise to shrink my ass and I can keep my legs closed, but I can’t make myself any older than I am.
Joe leans over to kiss my forehead. “See you, Brandy.”
He lets himself out of my bedroom, and a few moments later I hear the front door slam. I go to my window and watch him drive away. The next time I see him at the coffee shop, I make Cyndi wait on him and I pretend I don’t see him.
Joe looked pensive. We ate and drank in mutual silence for a few minutes. I didn’t have anything to say about what he’d told me.
“It was like getting a blow job from a puppy,” he said finally. “All slobber and gobbling and wriggling around.”
I burst into laughter, though I felt bad for poor Brandy. “Oh, Joe.”
He gave me a sly smile. “It’s true. She was…”
“Young,” I finished for him. “She sounded young.”
He toyed with his drink. “Yeah. She was.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t go out with girls in college,” I ventured. “If it bothers you.”
He looked up at me, one brow raised. “It doesn’t. At least, it didn’t.”
It wasn’t quite warm enough to eat outside, but in the atrium, the sun beating down through the glass was brutal. Everything seemed moist and sticky, but also somehow… waiting. The plants seemed to know spring was coming. Maybe they waited for it the way children wait for Christmas. I took a long drink from my bottle of water, but sweat still pearled in my hairline and trickled down the knobs of my spine to tickle the crack in my buttocks.
I don’t know what to think. I’m never really sure half the things Joe tells me are true. I certainly know my own imagination provides details I can’t know, things he can’t know, either. Our lunches are absolutely about fulfilling fantasies, and if Joe’s lying to me about the women he fucks, I’m not sure I want to know.
There’s a lot about Joe I do know. He doesn’t like to share food or drink, or kiss on the mouth. He lost his virginity to his mother’s best friend. He has expensive taste. I know where he went to high school. We shield ourselves with stories of the past because revealing the present would be too intimate.
I know everything and nothing about him all at the same time.
“But it bothers you now?”
I looked at him. He studied his hands. The cuffs of his shirt, a dark pink, like the petals of a Stargazer Lily, peeked out from the edges of his dark suit.
“Yeah.”
“Why?
“Hey, even ice cream tastes bad after a while if that’s all you eat.”
“Oh, Joe.” For a couple hours, every month, he made it easy for me to be a woman who could laugh. “Don’t tell me you’re becoming more discriminating in your old age.”
Joe tipped his face to the bright sunlight streaming through the windows. I admired his profile when he wasn’t looking at me. He’d had a haircut, and he looked shorn. His ears protruded endearingly. The nape of his neck looked vulnerable. I caught a glimpse of silver in the gold of his hair, which seemed darker in its shorter state.
“D’you think I’m old?” He asked me.
“If you are, I’m ancient.”
He looked at me with one eye squinted shut against the brightness. “Oh, you’re a real grandma.”
His story had revealed his age to me, something I hadn’t known before. One more piece of Joe for me to ponder over. I wished he’d been older, or younger, but we were almost exactly the same age.
“When’s your birthday?” he asked suddenly.
I didn’t want to tell him. It betrayed our unspoken agreement not to discuss the now, only the then. But a birthday was then, wasn’t it? Even if it was also now? I’d been born in the then, in the past we could talk about.
“April nineteenth. I’ll be thirty-five, too.”
Joe snorted. “So you are older than me.”
I laughed at that, too. “Thanks.”
“My birthday is April twenty-fourth.”
We both stared. Heat rose in my cheeks. Along my throat. Even into my fingers, which busied themselves with crumpling my trash.
“So…” I said slowly. “What do you suppose that means?”
“It means,” Joe said, leaning infinitesimally closer, “you’re not young.”
The clatter of heels on the slate floor sent us apart like rubber bands stretched to snapping. The couple rounding the corner was laughing and didn’t stop when they saw us, but the moment had passed.
Joe got up and threw away his trash, then held out his hands for garbage. I let him take it. He put it in the can while I fussed with an imaginary problem in my purse.
I heard more laughter, and when I looked up, he’d already gone.