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“You could join us,” Maggie suggested.
“I’m working tonight, but thank you,” I said. Even though I wanted to grab Layla by her overall straps and fling her out of the booth to get to Sarah Jo. Because that wouldn’t have anybody talking at all, now would it?
On the way back behind the bar, I decided I was going to drop by and check on her dad soon. I could pitch in, act as a stand-in for Ryan, who seemed to help out only once in a while. Around ten, the girls got their stuff together to leave. Layla came to settle the tab at the bar. On the back of her credit card receipt, she left a note. “SJ cell #” followed by seven digits. I pocketed the paper and wondered if it was a stroke of good luck or just the devil sitting on my shoulder again.
After I finally closed up, I went home and showered. I rolled the lever straight to cold to try and cool my fevered body. The uncomfortable, keyed-up feeling had lingered even after she had left and was out of my sight. I thought the shock of icy water on my tired body would turn off that outdated reaction to her. We weren’t teenagers sneaking around anymore. We were grown and on different paths in life. She belonged back in the city, getting her degree and setting up her own business. I’d chosen to stay where I was, help my folks out, to lead a smaller life. I was satisfied with that most days. Until I saw her, and my mouth went dry, and the word satisfied took on a whole different meaning. Until the sight of Sarah Jo looking weary and brave made me want to step out of line, stop meeting everyone’s expectations and do what felt right to me.
Even after a cold shower, my body wouldn’t settle down. There was nothing else to do but go with it, or I’d never get any sleep. So, I stretched out on my bed and reached for my cock. I shut my eyes and let myself think it, just this once. I’d shut the memory of her face away for so long, but now she was back in full color, her voice and her laugh rolling over me like waves until the past dragged me under. I played it all out in my mind like I was directing a movie.
Back to the bar, but instead of walking away, in my version, I’d say, ‘excuse me,’ to Layla, and she’d move aside. I’d hold out my hand, and Sarah Jo would reach for it like it was natural. Drawing her to her feet, I’d take her in my arms, just holding her, stroking that long, dark hair like silk in my fingers. I’d tell her I was going to take care of everything, to just come with me. And instead of talking back or making a joke like she would in real life, in the fantasy, Sarah Jo would come with me like I asked. I’d lead her out of there. Somebody else could handle the bar for the night, or they could burn the place down for all I cared. I would take her to my place near the fire station, unlock the door, pull her inside. Without even turning on a lamp, just standing there in the dark, I’d feel she was nervous. I’d touch her face. “I have you,” I would say to put her at ease. I’d lift that mass of dark hair and kiss her neck. She would come to life, her hands on my chest. She’d make that sound, that sweet, high sound she used to make when I kissed her there, and I would know it was turning her on.
I’d have to stop and kiss her mouth because I hadn’t kissed her in years. I’d been dreaming of it. Because I could shut out her memory most of the time when I was awake, but when I slept, Sarah Jo turned up quite often. She would put her arms around my neck and kiss me back, opening her lips and meeting me stroke for stroke with her tongue as I awakened all her eagerness, her passion. Kissing her would drive me wild, and I’d pull off her shirt to get my hands on her bare back. She always had the smoothest skin I’d ever felt. I’d crush her in my arms, my mouth in her hair for an instant just for the pleasure of holding her, of mapping her new curves with my touch.
She’d pull my face back to hers and kiss me again. I stroked my cock faster now at the thought of her reaching for me, wanting me. As we kissed, Sarah Jo would yank off my shirt, breaking the kiss for only a second. Then I’d peel off her tight jeans and pick her up and carry her to the couch. I’d set her on my lap and start touching her. I wanted to satisfy her, to look after her and make sure her pleasure was seen to. Her long legs would be warm to my touch as I trailed my hands up from her neat ankles to the sensitive spot behind her knees all the way to her thighs and the sweet curve of her ass.
