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Not with my hangups. Yes, I loved myself, but I was still self-conscious. It wasn’t something I would have ever bought myself, and for some reason, as I unpacked my things in the old room I used to sleep in when I was a child visiting my grandparents, drinking wine, listening to music, well, it just seemed like a good idea.
Of course, I never imagined I’d get caught wearing it while snooping through the greenhouse that had been the object of many a dispute between my Gramps and the neighbors. The Kents were an uptight bunch.
Not all of them, an annoying little voice reminded me.
No. I was so not going there. Just thinking of Jeremy Kent, the boy I once knew, and his tight-lipped mother and snooty Dad had my hackles up. The Kents were notoriously snobbish, looking down on my Italian immigrant grandfather with his heavy accent and his Venezuelan wife, whose accent was even more pronounced.
It didn’t matter to the Kents they’d been together since the 1960s, raised their son, my dad, to be a good, honest man. Orthe fact they worked their land themselves. Or that they went to Church regularly, and were kind, good people. None of that mattered to Jonathan and Julia Kent, descendants of the first founders of Kent Township.
Jeremy was not like them, though. At least, not back then, he wasn’t. Of course, I didn’t know him anymore. He was just the boy I’d given my greatest gift to one Christmas Eve.
My heart.
Fine. He also took my virginity. But, in his defense, he’d been a virgin, too. Not that any of it mattered now.
Feelings flooded my mind, and I couldn’t help but recall that time in my life. Sixteen, almost seventeen, heartbroken after losing my parents, but in love for the first time.
Sigh.
CHAPTER THREE- MORENA
After weeks of exchanging longing glances and notes by the back fence that separated our properties, Jeremy approached me after school one day. I was new to Kent Township High, and he was the All-American quarterback rich kid superstar.
It was love at first sight. We spent weeks stealing kisses and sneaking around whenever we had the chance. We had agreed to meet at midnight on Christmas Eve in the greenhouse. I remember baking him a special batch of carrot muffins from Granny’s recipe, using currants instead of raisins, and hand-crushed walnuts to add texture.
It was foolish and reckless, but for a good girl like me, who’d come to live with my elderly grandparents after my own mom and dad died in a terrible accident, it was heaven. He was heaven. The only one who understood me and made me feel loved and cherished.
Jeremy Kent was perfect.
But he could never date me openly. Not with how his parents felt about my family. The Kents were old money, and they meant something to the community. Hell, they owned just abouteverything, and were not above throwing their name around to get what they wanted.
Sixteen year old didn’t care about any of that. At the time, I thought our relationship was all so terribly romantic. We were like Romeo and Juliette. Unfortunately, when I was making the comparison, I hadn’t finished reading that play. At least, not untilafterthat Christmas.
That was back when I believed in magic and fairytales. I thought Jeremy was like something out of a book. My very own prince charming come to take me away from the monotony of my life. His kisses were sweet, and his touch pure joy. We hadn’t planned on sex, but it was inevitable. As hot as we burned for each other, what else could have happened?
I thought we would have forever, but after his parents caught the two of us basking in the warm afterglow of our very first orgasms (with other people—masturbation was alive and kicking), well, the fairytale had ended abruptly. Some might say, even cruelly.
There was a lot of yelling, and threats were made. Gramps came to get me as I sat huddled with a blanket tossed over me, dressed back in my wrinkled clothes, with Mr. Kent glaring at me while I sat on the stairs like some stray he found outside. Jeremy had been hustled indoors, but I could hear the screaming. All from his mother.
“Having sex with a cheap, fat girl like that, Jeremy! How could you?”
Ugh, that woman! His mother’s voice still echoed in my head, and after half a bottle of wine, the woman still sounded like an uptight bitch. God, that night had wrecked me. I still felt pangs in my chest, wondering what could have been if not for the untimely interruption. But thinking like that was dangerous for a girl like me.What-ifsandcould-have-beenswere the fast track to nowhere.
“Well, screw you, Mrs. I-am-better-than everybody-Kent,” I mumbled, stripping out of my travel clothes, and stepping into the skimpy little thing.
“Wonder what you woulda said, finding me wearing this little getup with your son on Christmas morning at your breakfast table,” I muttered, missing the leg opening once before finding it.
And then, for reasons only wine could explain, I walked out the back door, wearing nothing but the teddy. My boobs, ass, and pussy were all on display—thank goodness I was neatly trimmed and freshly shaved—I sashayed my naked butt all the way to the Kent’s greenhouse.
After a few minutes of fumbling with the doorknob, I picked up a brick lying on the ground, looking for the old key that used to be hidden there. But it was gone.
Well, fuckety fuck nuts.
Looking at the brick, I shrugged and broke the pane of glass closest to the doorknob. Then I reached in carefully, not cutting myself, and undid the lock. Next, I went inside.
It was dark, but there was a strip of gentle, blue light running along the floor in each aisle. That was all I really needed to see where I was going, and of course, the small stream of light from my phone helped.
“Mm.” I moaned, welcoming the warmth. I should have put on a robe, I thought as I shivered, knowing full well my nipples were hard as rocks, but oh well. There was no one there to see them.
