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He probably does this all the time, Lexie. You’re probably just one of dozens.
Terrific. I’ve lost my virginity to a man whore who makes my heart ache.
And, he came inside you. You let him.
Fuck, fuckity, fuck, fuuuuggggg.
See? First times suck even when you’ve just earned yourself a half million dollars. The suck is inevitable.
Craving maximum comfort and coziness, I put on an oversized Sherpa fleece and a pair of PJ bottoms.
I plop down on my bed, thinking I should shower but knowing I won’t. I want him on me, inside of me as long as I can hold out.
But no sooner has my butt hit the mattress than there’s a soft knock at my door. I recognize it as my mom’s knock and quickly ball up the panties in my fist, shoving my hand under my pillow.
“Come in,” I whisper, trying to sound like she woke me.
She opens the door far enough to peek in. “Hi, sweetie,” she says, her eyes worried and surprised. “I didn’t think you’d be home tonight.”
Me neither.
“Oh, you know. Gina.” I roll my eyes.
Mom sighs. “You’re a good friend to her, but she’s not always…”
“Anyway,” I say, sitting up and grabbing my favorite stuffed bear, palming the lace of the panties against his fuzzy tummy. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t.” She smiles. “Just wanted to check on you. Did you manage to have any fun tonight?”
The question makes my face flush. I turn and lay back down, pressing my head into the pillow. As I do, I press my cheek into my hair, stiff with his cum. Oh geeez. As if I wasn’t blushing hard enough.
But thankfully the only light in the room is a string of twinkle lights over my desk. Safe from my mom’s curiosity.
“I did,” I manage. “I’m just so sleepy.”
“You get some rest.” She blows me a kiss then begins to close the door. But she pauses to add, “Before I forget, your Uncle Marshall is coming tomorrow for dinner.”
Tired as I am, I can’t find anybody named Uncle Marshall in my memory bank.
“My Uncle who?” I prop myself up on my elbow.
“He was my foster brother. He’s in town for something or other. We haven’t seen each other in a long, long time. I’ll make a salad or something. And your dad can do something on the grill. Maybe you could do your coconut cream pie.”
She has no idea how much I don’t care about this. But I can tell it matters to her, so I muster up a smile.
And I try to read her feelings, but it’s tough. She’s been hitting the Botox pretty hard since she hit forty so it’s not always easy for me to know what she’s thinking.
“Are you excited to see him? Should I be excited to meet him?”
She shrugs. “He won’t be here long. He’s not really our kind of people. But it’ll be good to see him all the same. We were close, once upon a time. His path took him one way, I went another.”
All the words she’s saying start to smudge together like the teacher’s wah-wah voice from Charlie Brown. The highs and lows of the night are catching up to me fast. I pull my blanket up, snuggling in, honestly wishing that this whole night hadn’t happened at all.
“Night, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you, too, sweetie. Sleep tight.”
Good night, Daniel. Wherever you are.
CHAPTER 9
Marshall
I spend all fucking day trying to find her. I’m crazed with it, like a wolf on the hunt.
I want her. I need her. I have to have her.
But she’s nowhere. Vanished, like it was all a dream.
Every avenue is a dead end because I don’t even know her real name. But what the fuck did I expect, giving my heart to a girl at a virgin auction?
The feeling in my heart is what keeps me going, though. This isn’t just about pussy, fuck no. This isn’t even just about passion. This is about the possibility of something bigger. Something better. Something real.
I make so many phone calls, send so many emails, that by the middle of the afternoon there’s a real chance that the Dallas Men’s Club is going to serve me with a cease-and-desist order.
Bring it on. Let the legal bullshit rain down upon me.
I found my way to her once. I’ll do it again. Whatever it takes.
Now, it’s 7:27 pm. I’m sitting in my rented Mercedes, out in front of my foster sister’s house, irritated as hell.
I’ve told her I’ll be there for dinner in three goddamned minutes. But I’m still trying to find Stephanie. I’m on the phone again, now with the fucking Dallas County Beekeeping Society.
Like I said, Whatever it takes.
The lady helping me is named Tammy. And she’s convinced I’ve got the wrong number.
“Sir, we’re a club for people who like bees. We don’t deal with missing persons.” As she’s told me six times and as I understood perfectly from the fucking beginning.
