For some reason, I feel uncomfortable sharing this with my mom. Even though she’s the person I’m closest with and we’vetalked about things like this before, it’s just…Dominic isn’t a boyfriend. Or a crush. He’s…uncategorizable. He’s a variable I never accounted for and I’m not sure if I’m ready to share that quite yet.
“Okay,” she drags the word out, “But is he handsome?” She raises her eyebrows at me pointedly. I laugh and throw a dish towel at her, thankful for the cut in the tension she seems to always know how to handle.
“Yes, but that has nothing to do with this!” I laugh as she throws it back at me while making her way to the couch in the living room, situating herself in front of our Scrabble game.
“Hmm, okay. So from what I understand, he’s willing to go up to strangers to help out your love life, and you hang out at that cafe often and for hours?—”
“To study!”Mostly.I fold and tuck away the towel before coming to sit across from her on the other side of the game board.
“Sure, sure. But he takes you out for ice cream to a spot he’s been going to for years, and you think he’s handsome?” My mom shoots me a look that irks me. I rub my eyes with my palms.
“Okay, I give up. He is quite the decent guy. And yes he’s very good looking buthe does not qualify for this experiment because he doesn’t makeThe List.” I give her a tight-lipped smile and a shrug, hoping she’ll drop it. She doesn’t. She lets out the most egregious sigh and rolls her eyes so far back into her head I fear they might get stuck. Well, at least I know where I got that from.
“Honey, you have got to give up onThe List,” she says, now looking at me with more concern on her face than necessary. “You can’t expect one guy to fill this void of your father while meeting these standards. It’s not fair, honey.”
Pity. That’s pity on her face.For me.Even though she was the one that was left high and dry, going through a divorce and chemotherapy at the same time, but I’mgoing overboard?
I do what I do every time my mom brings up my dad, which isn’t often, I pretend she didn’t say anything at all and move on.
“My list is fine. Expectations are a good thing to have. Then you don’t get hurt,” I say in finality. I proceed with my turn, placing the letter tiles down a tad too forcefully.
“Sunshine—” Mom starts.
“Your turn.”
We continue to play on for at least another hour before abandoning our game for trashy reality television. Within minutes Mom’s asleep on the couch and I pull a blanket up around her and put a glass of water on the coffee table next to the unfinished Scrabble game. We never finish a game. Once we run out of tiles, we just swipe it clean and start again. No score is kept. No dictionary pulled out. I swear half of her words are made up, but that’s just how we play. Not with rules, but with our hearts. We like it better that way. I turn the lamp off, double check the lock on the front door, and head upstairs to my room.
I guess what she’s saying has some merit. I ruminate over our conversation as I change and tuck myself into bed, trying to think of other ways to describe Dominic. Flashes of him standing behind the coffee bar pop through my mind.Hard working.I picture his tattoos splayed across his forearms.Muscular.I wonder if he has tattoos in other places? Visions of his apron stretched across his thighs, his lean muscular physique leaning against the coffee bar run through my mind. My body flushes with heat and my sheets feel scratchy against my suddenly sensitive skin. I have a memory camera roll of histruesmile, the one that makes both sides of his pouty lips turn upward, floating through my mind. That, and his strong jaw that has just a little bit of stubble, just enough to scratch.
I wonder what it would feel like on my skin. Would it be rough or tickle? Would he laugh or kiss away the sensation?
My hands grip my comforter as my breaths come a little faster, heat simmering under my skin. My hand begins to slide down my stomach to the waistband of my sleep shorts.
No! What are you doing? Stop fantasizing about Dominic!
I jerk my hand back realizing I was indeed fantasizing about Dominic. Conflicting thoughts erode my mental state and I can’t help but wonder what he would look like without a shirt. Iknowhe’s got a great physique, I just have yet to see it all. I find myself suddenly picturing him pulling his shirt over his head, exposing a set of toned ab muscles that ripple with his movement.
There go his pants….
My hand begins to slide downwards again to the edge of my shorts, but I pull it back. Again.
Now I’m making the conscious decision to go up. My fingers begin tracing my nipple over my tank top, rolling it deliciously through the thin fabric. I close my eyes and picture Dominic’s hands instead. I bite my lip to hold in a small whimper. Breathing in deeply, I open my eyes and stare at my ceiling in indecision.
Okay, Cel, it’s just a fantasy. Meaning not real, totally fictional, and that’s OK! Go ahead and get your O, girl!
A small thrill zips through me as I allow myself this one little fantasy. I continue stroking and pinching my nipple through my top with one hand, while the other slides between my legs. I draw lazy circles around my clit with my index finger, picturing Dominic’s thick forearms holding me against a wall, my car,fuck…He could hold me against that stupid locked entrance door to Biblio & Brew if he wanted. Heat buds in my low belly and I bite my lip to suppress a moan. I pinch my nipple at the image of Dominic using his teeth to tease me through the fabric. I wonder just how big Dominic is, considering the size of his hands and his above average height. Above average length too? I clench around air, needing more. Needing to feel full. Just as I roll over to grabmy vibrator from my nightstand, I hear a knock on my door and I jerk back in shock. I’m not naked, but being pulled out of a sexy fantasy by reality is incredibly jarring. A second later Mom’s voice comes from the other side in a soft whisper. I lay frozen, my hands stilled in the air like a burglar caught in the act.
“Honey, if you’re still awake, thank you for tucking me in. I love you. Goodnight. God Bless.”
I hear her footsteps trail back to her room and her door softly closing behind her. She is not particularly religious but for some reason she’s always said that same sentence to me at bedtime for as long as I can remember. Thinking of a blessing from the big guy in the sky completely kills my mood. I flop back onto my pillow and throw an arm over my eyes. Leave it to God to pull me out of my fantasy and deny me an orgasm. What was I thinking? About to get myself off to Dominic? I must be in some sort of delusional exhaustion for my mind to wander the way it did.
I groan and roll over into a fitful sleep and an unresolved ache between my thighs.
ELEVEN
Americano
Celeste
