Baby, You're the Best by Mary B. Morrison

an introvert. I stayed in my room a lot. At first studying was my excuse but when the As started flooding my report cards, I liked being called “the smart girl.”
    Somewhere along my way, that Billy Blackstone . . . where was he? After I lost my virginity to him, I felt as though I’d shared myself with the right guy. My feelings of having sex the first night with Spencer were the same. He was the best I’d had and that included Billy.
    Daybreak greeted me good morning as rays beamed through the blinds. I heard birds chirping outside his window. I kissed Spencer’s chest. He stopped snoring. There wasn’t much time before I had to leave but a quickie would be nice. Peeling back the cover, I saw his dick was hard. My breathing became heavy.
    A churning in the pit of my stomach growled. Air moved in short waves then stopped. Squeezing my cheeks, I quietly planted my feet on the floor.
    Spencer’s hand gripped mine. “Where’re you going, Fabulous?”
    I replayed our sex scenes in my head, thrilled that I’d squirted for the first time. I wondered if he could make me do that again. Would we do it again?
    The pain in my abdomen subsided. Bubbles rippled in the opposite direction but eventually this gas had to escape and I refused to embarrass myself. Pressing the button on his cell to check the time, I saw he had ten text messages and fifteen missed calls from someone named Charlotte.
    “I have to shower and go. My daughter scheduled a hair appointment for me.”
    His cheek pressed against the pillow. I fingered his earlobe. Spencer’s voice trailed off. “This early?”
    Letting go of his hand, I answered, “Yes. It’s for six.”
    Sleepily, he asked, “What time is?”
    “Five o’clock.”
    “I’ma check out the inside of my lids for a sec. You wore me out.” He faintly smiled. “Wake me so I can make sure you get to your car safely. Don’t want anything happening to my new lady.”
    No time to respond. I hurried to the bathroom, locked the door, turned on the vent, sat on the toilet, and released a lot more than trapped air. A painting of a woman holding a little boy’s hand hung on the wall facing me. Their eyes sparkled. Their smiles were joyful. The little boy in a white shirt, tie, pants, and loafers was Spencer. The woman in an all-white dress and shoes was presumably his mom. It was just the two of them. His hand seemed to disappear in the woman’s grip. All that showed was his thumb.
    I stared in the mirror and smiled. For a second my eyes beamed, not wanting my connection with Spencer to end. Suddenly, I noticed the short lines gathered beside my eyes, bags sagging below. Maybe I should get NeuBelle and have my teeth whitened. My lips uncurled. The lines and bags vanished. Perhaps I hadn’t noticed the wrinkles before because I hadn’t had a reason to smile ear-to-ear. I was genuinely happy.
    Turning away from the mirror, I unlocked the door, then stepped into the shower. Water splashing against my naked body brought that kind of inside-out pleasure I hadn’t sensed in years. I wanted to exhale my excitement with a loud sound of satisfaction. Instead I contained it.
    I hoped I’d see Spencer again. It was unrealistic to expect a relationship commitment with Spencer. With all the missed messages from Charlotte, seems like he had a situation similar to mine. In ten years I’d be sixty. He’d be? I laughed at the fact that I didn’t know the answer. All he’d said was, legal.
    I washed my arms, neck, and breasts. Tears of joy emerged. Was Spencer sincere when he called me his new lady? I stopped crying. I’d heard quite a few lines in my time. Men claimed they cared, then they’d cut off communication unexpectedly. Spencer was the change I welcomed but I’d let him take the next step.
    The bathroom door opened. “Your birthday is officially over but I still have a present for you,” Spencer said. Joining me under the water, he pointed the showerhead toward the wall.
    He squatted then