Brandon

 

After finishing with Juliet (it was enough for her to cum and for me to feel sufficiently massaged), I have decided to cook us breakfast. Eggs and spam and a side of toast and jam. Coffee or tea, depending on what she wants or likes.

I’m not sure how she likes her eggs, so I just decide to go with the way I like them. Fried. Cooked in tons of butter and dusted with a little salt and pepper. I make her and me two eggs each, deciding it’s best to finish off my carton of them today, rather than let them hang another day or two. They’re already getting close to their “use by” date.

While I’m cooking, I decide to give Harlow a call. I know he and I talked about me being a speaker at the next Veteran’s Conference. I know I told him I would think about it more, but after going through the relatively sleepless night with Juliet, I know I’m not going to be in the right space to be the kind of speaker he needs to be. It takes a particular kind of mindset to do that and be there for those veterans, and right now I don’t have it.

Not with my emotions and thoughts pulled so completely to Juliet and the healing process she needs to go through.

As I get the eggs in the pan, and get them on their way to crispy, golden-edged perfection, I dial Harlow. He picks up almost immediately. “Well, gooood moorning there, early riser!” He pauses, taking a sip of something. Probably his coffee, which he likes black. Never takes any sugar or milk. “Got good news for me this morning? Gonna come to the conference?”

I pull out a wooden spoon, and adjust the bubbling egg whites so they don’t stick. With that same spatula I move some pieces of spam into another pan. As I do so, I rest the smart phone against my shoulder and my ear. “I really want to say yes, but I can’t. You know that girl? Juliet? The one I picked up yesterday from a cliffside?”

“Yeah, I remember,” says Harlow. “Wasn’t born yesterday, you know?”

I snap on the heat for a second burner, hoping to get the spam up to temp as quickly as possible. “Well, I’ve been up with her all night. Been having nightmares. Night terrors, Harlow, and so I just can’t in good conscience leave her alone. Going do this thing, when I know she needs me. She needs my help in healing what she’s been through.” I smile, thinking about how much more relaxed she’s become after our romps. Hate to admit it, but the sex hasn’t just been good with her — mind blowing — it’s been good for her. Like a literal medicine, which I never thought I would ever see happen. Certainly not outside of hospital-themed porno. “I seem to be really helping her out, Harlow. I seem to really be helping cure what ails her,” I say, blushing a bit. Even without saying anything overly sexual, I can feel her mouth on me. Her small, squishy pussy sucking on me like a baby. “I just don’t want to take chances, you know? Don’t want to take the chance that me going to this event disrupts her healing process. Makes her backslide or anything like that.” I pause, flipping both my spam and my eggs quickly and efficiently. Both are beginning to splatter and bubble under the heat and released grease. “Believe me, man. If I didn’t think this was so important, I wouldn’t miss that conference. If I didn’t think Juliet needed me more than those vets right now, I’d be there in a heartbeat. I’d be there without a second thought, but I just feel like I’m needed here right now.”

Harlow chuckles. “Somehow I knew you’d say that. The minute this girl came into your sphere, I knew you’d want to be there for her. Be her hero. Help her through whatever she’s going through, because that’s just the kind of man you are, Brandon.” He sighs. “And let’s face it. I can tell she’s gotten to you. You’re serious about her. I can tell by the sound of your voice.” Another sip of his coffee off speaker, followed by the sounds of distant cooking. Also from a pan or griddle. “So, tell you what? I’m gonna let you skip out on this one, but you have to come to the next one three months from now, okay?”

I flip my eggs back over, not wanting to cook the yolk too much. From there I move them onto a plate, and prepare to flip the spam as well. One side is beginning to get extra crispy.

Before I can give any sort of answer, Harlow continues, his voice sounding much more urgent, less playful now. “I’m serious about that, man. I’m really gonna need you at the next one. Suicide rates amongst ex-seals is really beginning to skyrocket, man. And I really need to be able to increase my outreach potential. My sphere of influence, and you’re the man who helps me do that. Your story. Your experiences, all that really helps them. Gets to them in a way that, when it’s just me, I can’t hope to re-create. I know you want to help this girl. I get that. I respect that, but your fellow seals need your help too, Brandon.”

Under his words, a pang of guilt begins to rise. I flip over the spam, pressing it down into the pan a bit. It’s just in time, too. Edges were beginning to go black on a few pieces. “I know. I haven’t forgotten about them. I won’t forget about them,” I say.

“Not trying to bust your balls, man. I know she just kind of dropped in your lap, so don’t take anything I’ve said too hard. Just trying to let you know what I’m dealing with through my foundation and everything.”

“I get it. I’ll come to the next conference. You have my word.”

Saying these words, I grab out another plate for the spam, and began transferring all of my cut pieces to a plate. As I do, I still can’t help but feel guilty. Selfish, even though I’m being selfless by looking after Juliet. I’m choosing one woman with mental health issues over hundreds of ex-seals with the same issues.

“All right,” says Harlow. “I’m holding you to that, you know?”

“Scouts honor,” I say, wondering if I’ve really made the right choice. If my mother and father were still alive, they might say differently. They also might have a problem with how I’ve just gotten so sexually involved with a woman I don’t know, and who is obviously troubled.

But, just as I’m about to start really beating up on myself about this, Juliet comes out of her room. My room, dressed only in a pair of sweatpants. The top part of her is completely bare, leaving her small but firm breasts exposed. Open and available to my eyes, which waste no time in enjoying the view. Her nipples light pink and small, are hard. Pointy in the cool morning air.

“Talk to you later, Brandon,” says Harlow.

“Later,” I murmur, barely able to focus on moving the rest of my spam out of the pan and onto the plate.

Harlow hangs up from our call in the next second, and as he does, I no longer feel guilty. Looking at Juliet — how she walks resolutely and unfazed into the room and toward the breakfast table topless — I know I’ve made the right choice.