kids were just a room away and no one would ever know.
“You’re
so damned tempting.” He smiled, watching my face as I looked at him through
half-closed eyes while he rocked my pussy toward orgasm.
“Gretchen?”
Mrs. B called from the family room. “Can you bring me Holly’s diaper bag?”
The
sound of her voice made him take a step back. I straightened my skirt, my
blouse, still trying to catch my breath. The diaper bag was on the kitchen
table and I headed for it on shaky legs.
“Wait.”
Doc caught my arm, whispering. “Gretchen, I’m sorry. I’m… drunk. Forgive me?”
“I…
um…” He had to know there was nothing to forgive. He wasn’t taking advantage of
me. My God, I wanted it as much as he did.
“Don’t
tell Carrie.” He left, disappearing back up the stairs.
I
made it through the rest of the night on autopilot, cleaning up after dinner,
tucking two sugar-hyped now-crashing kids into bed, rocking the baby to sleep,
saying goodnight to the Baumgartners as they sat on the sofa watching The
Office , laughing together.
But
that night, I heard them having sex. I listened to the animal growl and thrust
of him, the headboard banging against the wall over and over, and I wondered if
he was thinking about me when he came.
Because
I was. I came three times, panting and tangled in my covers, thinking about
him.
* *
* *
The
Baumgartners went to New England to visit Doc’s parents for Thanksgiving and
took Janie, Henry, and Holly with them. They asked me to come along, but I told
them I’d been invited to my aunt’s for the holiday. It wasn’t true, of course.
My aunt had denounced me as a slut and had kicked me out the summer after my
senior year when she found me giving Jake Harris a blowjob on the couch in the
basement. The truth was, I hated Thanksgiving. It was a non-holiday to me that
served no purpose except to eat and bicker with family members you hardly ever
saw. And that just reminded me I didn’t have any family to bicker with, and
that made me sad.
Last
year, Ronnie had invited me to her parents’ and we had dinner with them and her
sister, Amy, which had been okay, but still painful. For me, it was like being
pricked with needles all night long—not anything that was going to kill
me, but still damned painful and annoying. So this year, I spent Thanksgiving
at the Baumgartners, in their empty house. I ordered Chinese food and ate it in
front of the 80-inch television while binge-watching Friends on DVD all
weekend. On Friday, I had the worst MSG hangover and stayed in bed until three.
Then
I managed to clean up the house and decided, after a liquid dinner of organic
whole milk mixed with Carnation Instant Breakfast, that I wanted to go
clubbing. Christian had called me after that one night, but I’d never called
him back. Rude, I knew, but I didn’t want a regular fuck buddy, and he wasn’t
really boyfriend material—not still living at home, going to the
community college, and playing Halo and Call of Duty until all hours of the
night. Of course, who was I to talk, after spending eighteen hours in front of
the TV?
So
I thought maybe I’d call him and we could meet up at the club. Since I had the
Baumgartners’ place all to myself. Including their giant king sized bed. The
truth was, I wanted to fuck on it. I wanted to be fucked on it, to imagine
myself in between the two of them. I borrowed Mrs. B’s dress, the one she’d
worn that night. It had been skin tight on her, but it was a little loose on
me. Still, I looked damned good. Maybe, I thought, I could pick up two tonight
for the price of one. I was sure Christian wouldn’t mind bringing another girl
home.
I
called him, but when he finally answered, I was already at the club, and
apparently he was out of town—Texas—with his folks. He sounded real
disappointed and said he’d make it up to me when he got back. I said, sure,
we’d get together. Of course, I lied. I knew what I was doing as I ponied up to
the
“You’re
so damned tempting.” He smiled, watching my face as I looked at him through
half-closed eyes while he rocked my pussy toward orgasm.
“Gretchen?”
Mrs. B called from the family room. “Can you bring me Holly’s diaper bag?”
The
sound of her voice made him take a step back. I straightened my skirt, my
blouse, still trying to catch my breath. The diaper bag was on the kitchen
table and I headed for it on shaky legs.
“Wait.”
Doc caught my arm, whispering. “Gretchen, I’m sorry. I’m… drunk. Forgive me?”
“I…
um…” He had to know there was nothing to forgive. He wasn’t taking advantage of
me. My God, I wanted it as much as he did.
“Don’t
tell Carrie.” He left, disappearing back up the stairs.
I
made it through the rest of the night on autopilot, cleaning up after dinner,
tucking two sugar-hyped now-crashing kids into bed, rocking the baby to sleep,
saying goodnight to the Baumgartners as they sat on the sofa watching The
Office , laughing together.
But
that night, I heard them having sex. I listened to the animal growl and thrust
of him, the headboard banging against the wall over and over, and I wondered if
he was thinking about me when he came.
Because
I was. I came three times, panting and tangled in my covers, thinking about
him.
* *
* *
The
Baumgartners went to New England to visit Doc’s parents for Thanksgiving and
took Janie, Henry, and Holly with them. They asked me to come along, but I told
them I’d been invited to my aunt’s for the holiday. It wasn’t true, of course.
My aunt had denounced me as a slut and had kicked me out the summer after my
senior year when she found me giving Jake Harris a blowjob on the couch in the
basement. The truth was, I hated Thanksgiving. It was a non-holiday to me that
served no purpose except to eat and bicker with family members you hardly ever
saw. And that just reminded me I didn’t have any family to bicker with, and
that made me sad.
Last
year, Ronnie had invited me to her parents’ and we had dinner with them and her
sister, Amy, which had been okay, but still painful. For me, it was like being
pricked with needles all night long—not anything that was going to kill
me, but still damned painful and annoying. So this year, I spent Thanksgiving
at the Baumgartners, in their empty house. I ordered Chinese food and ate it in
front of the 80-inch television while binge-watching Friends on DVD all
weekend. On Friday, I had the worst MSG hangover and stayed in bed until three.
Then
I managed to clean up the house and decided, after a liquid dinner of organic
whole milk mixed with Carnation Instant Breakfast, that I wanted to go
clubbing. Christian had called me after that one night, but I’d never called
him back. Rude, I knew, but I didn’t want a regular fuck buddy, and he wasn’t
really boyfriend material—not still living at home, going to the
community college, and playing Halo and Call of Duty until all hours of the
night. Of course, who was I to talk, after spending eighteen hours in front of
the TV?
So
I thought maybe I’d call him and we could meet up at the club. Since I had the
Baumgartners’ place all to myself. Including their giant king sized bed. The
truth was, I wanted to fuck on it. I wanted to be fucked on it, to imagine
myself in between the two of them. I borrowed Mrs. B’s dress, the one she’d
worn that night. It had been skin tight on her, but it was a little loose on
me. Still, I looked damned good. Maybe, I thought, I could pick up two tonight
for the price of one. I was sure Christian wouldn’t mind bringing another girl
home.
I
called him, but when he finally answered, I was already at the club, and
apparently he was out of town—Texas—with his folks. He sounded real
disappointed and said he’d make it up to me when he got back. I said, sure,
we’d get together. Of course, I lied. I knew what I was doing as I ponied up to
the
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