Warning: NSFW content; nudity. Reader discretion is advised. Or just save me the embarrassment and skip it… lol.
I sigh as I place my wet hand on my stomach, inches away from the C-section scar, now exposed because of the short top. Blood is still boiling in me and I’m unnaturally florid. Yes, I am well aware that masturbation doesn’t exactly solve my problems, yet I can’t help myself, when I’m constantly exposed to such tension during my meetings with Reggie. I mean, it’s been three months and I’m now a 20-year-old. I deserve more than he gives me. Much more.
I know Reggie is attracted to me. It shows in his every gesture and the way he looks at me, the way he admires my legs, or secretly checks out my butt when he thinks I don’t pay attention. So close and yet so far away from me. I really didn’t know what I was getting myself into when I agreed to these ridiculous “baby steps” with him. What does it even mean in this case? He’s a man in his prime, he must have his needs. What is it that stops him? Is he afraid he might not measure up to my expectations? Rise to the challenge? I almost chuckle, as I become aware of the context. Okay, that was admittedly a bad wording. But still, I’ve felt him being hard many times when we cuddled. And yet he never crossed the line. Why did he draw it in the first place? Doesn’t he realize how frustrating he’s being? He almost makes me feel as if I was a horny 15-year-old again, the same one who would give out her V-card as it was a Christmas present. It feels as if I hadn’t changed that much since that time. Sort of a regress, but I can’t help it no matter how hard I try.
I stare at the ceiling, as I go through our meetings. Or were it dates? Nah, I wouldn’t call them that. I remember when he gave me his autograph, a wedding present from me for Waylon. I remember the twinkling in his eyes, the slight amazement showing on his face as he realized my friends were two married men. “Good for them”- he said. “Able to have sex whenever they want to, not having to deal with moody women. Virgin Mary made me straight and that’s the price I have to pay for it.” I faked anger, failing miserably to hide the grin forming on my face. I wasn’t that frustrated then, as I am now. Moody woman, huh, Reggie? If it was up to her, we would have already had sex. And I’m not talking about a single occurrence.
I roll to the other side, displeased. I run my fingers through my short hair, still amazed at how quickly I managed to go back to my natural color, as I became too lazy to regularly re-dye them (still, I had to dye ones that were still pink). I never thought I would do that and yet here I am, not a “pinkhead” anymore. It feels better when I don’t have to worry about it. Surprisingly, I no longer feel the hatred toward the light brown that I used to suffer from the most of my life. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Reggie told me he prefers it to the pink?
At last, I hesitantly get up from the bed. Today is another of my meetings with Reggie, so I’d better get ready. It’s really fortunate that it isn’t in one of the shopping centers, because, as much as I appreciate Reggie being willing to stock my wardrobe with all the expensive brands – does he do that because he feels guilty of not being able to offer me some other things? – there are always people in the crowd who want photos and autographs, or who start getting all too excited about him being there. I’m getting adjusted to the attention I start drawing to myself by being Reggie’s close friend, with the press still having doubts about the nature of our relationship. It is not really a problem, because being the center of attention suits me, however I don’t like it at the time when I just want to spend time with Reggie and not unknown people who are his fans.
This time Reggie takes me to MN8, which is probably called after “midnight”, because MN8 (meen-ate) is very close to how people from Starlight Shores pronounce this word. I know both Waylon and Reggie do it like that. I and Frank articulate words much more clearly, hence why people instantly recognize us as former citizens of Twinbrook.
Fortunately this local is empty spare for us, so we’re lucky lucky this time. I find Reggie waiting for me on one of the couches.
“Hello, Hailey! I still can’t get over how stylish this new hairstyle is. You look beautiful, baby,” he says.
“Thanks,” I curtly respond. “How’s work?” I add, knowing it’d bring about quite a speech from him. But not this time.
“Good, I guess…” He looks like he wanted to start a tedious monologue about racing, but then he hesitates, noticing how tense I am. “Hey, why are you so down today?” Why aren’t you tense? As I look at him, I’m starting to have doubts about him being attracted to me. Maybe there’s a way to check it, though? I give him a look from under my eyelashes, batting them flirtatiously.
“I missed you,” I respond, looking deeply into his eyes. Green as spring grass, with his hair golden like sand on the desert.
“Is that so? It’s only been two days. You know I’ve been busy.” He’s beginning to irritate me.
“You are always busy,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “And full of far-fetched excuses as to why you can’t even invite me to your house.” He looks at me, clearly taken aback by this sudden outburst of honesty.
“There is nothing stopping me from inviting you to my house,” he opposes.
“Is that so?” I mimic him, titling my head to the side and crossing my arms, putting on an almost theathrical display of annoyance.
“Of course not. We can even go now if mademoiselle fancies.” I roll my eyes.
“God, that is a very poor mixture of British and French. But yes, I would very much like that.”
And this is how I convinced Reggie to take me to his house in one of his “high-street” cars. As he parks, I get a chance to admire his garage. Seeing my expression, Reggie is visibly as proud as a peacock.
“These matter everything to me,” he says, gesturing to the parked cars. If only I was a pretty racing car, huh? Would he want to have sex with me, then?
Afterwards I have to endure a description of each of them, tuning out in the middle of the first one. I only hear his voice now and it’s the most pleasant thing I’ve ever heard. Words are just words, but the tone is something entirely different. I can now openly stare at his eyes shining with passion, as he gets caught up enough not to pay attention to me at all. I can admire the man, feeling familiar feelings overtaking me. How mad would I be if he resisted me even in his house.
Reggie eventually stops talking and as we walk out of the garage, I can take a better look at the building, which is impressing itself. I look forward to everything that might await me inside. And I am not exaggerating when I say that the interior is all beyond my wildest dreams. Everything that looks expensive enough to be out of my reach for the rest of my life. And Reggie has all of these highest class objects stored inside.
“Err… So how do you like it?” He says, as we enter his living room, or should I rather say play room, filled with all the newest consoles and a television that could almost serve as a movie screen. Until this moment I don’t think I’d fully realized how loaded he really is.
“It’s awesome, Reggie! Can we play sometime?” I ask, staring at all the consoles, thinking of how many video games he owns.
“Sure. Bet I would beat you! Not now, though. I need to show you something first. Let’s get to the elevator.” Elevator?! Is he kidding me, or am I stuck in some kind of a dream, in a house my lazy spirit always wanted and never even dared to ask for?
“Uh… yeah, of course. What’s that?”
“Surprise,” he responds with a sly smile, pushing the button with “roof” written on it.
It takes mere seconds for the elevator to deliver me and Reggie right under the roof. As we get out, a cold wind startles me with its cold. I shiver at the touch of Reggie’s hand touching my arm.
“Are you cold? I could get you a jacket.” But as I turn around to face him, I don’t feel any cold, just the unbearable heat. I quickly shake my head.
Reggie leads me straight to the fence. Standing there, you can admire the breathtaking view of the city and even the sea in the distance. Looking closer, I can see a pool in Reggie’s backyard. Is there anything this guy doesn’t have?
Suddenly I can feel Reggie’s arms closing around me. He grips my boobs and slides his tongue along my neck. I freeze, unsure of how to act, my heart beating so fast it could jump out of my chest if it wanted to.
“Hailey, baby,” Reggie murmurs, his voice unusually hoarse.
I stroke his cheek, but he suddenly turns me around, pushing me hard to the balustrade.
My head now sticks dangerously through the hole in the fence, but Reggie holds me in a tight grip, not letting me fall. He presses his lips against mine and we share a rough, hungry kiss, biting each other’s lips so hard they start to bleed. Of course I could fall out through the fence and this would be the end of this, but for the longest time none of us cares, caught up in the magic of this moment. At last, I groan with displeasure as Reggie moves away from me, pulling me to my feet.
“We can’t risk you falling away,” he says. “Let’s go get a room.” A smile plays around his mouth as he says it. I let him take my hand and lead me to the elevator, where I suggestively lean on him.
We take it fast, hungry for each other after these painful months of abstinence. It’s then that I finally realize that it was as hard for Reggie as it was for me, if not harder. It’s what we both wanted and resisted to give each other for far too long. After finally giving in to our desires, we drop onto the bed, satisfaction spreading over our bodies. I lean into him, as Reggie’s hand draws gentle lines around the bottom of my stomach and I shiver slightly at the touch.
“You didn’t tell me,” he whispers softly. I look at his hand and then at my stomach, a realization washing over me. Reggie was stroking my C-section scar.
“It’s not mine… anymore,” I say, referencing the baby.
“Whose is it, then?”
“Well, Frank and Waylon raise him…” I look around the room, frantically searching for something to hold onto to end the uncomfortable topic. It’s not long before my eyes settle on the photo hung on the wall facing the bed.
“What’s his name?” Reggie asks, but I’m already focused on something else.
“Clinton. What was hers?” I point to the picture. Reggie looks in the designated direction, a grimace of pain forming on his face.
“April… Yes, you guessed it right, she was born in April. Guess we weren’t that creative. Five years ago… during the accident… she was 15. This photo was taken not long before it happened.”
“Yes, Hailey, you are her age… that is, if she was still alive.” Pregnant silence falls after his words.
“I guess there’s a lot we still don’t know about each other.” He finally says.
“And we’re not taking baby steps anymore,” I notice.
“And we’re not burning out from the hots anymore.”
“Right… And that’s good.”
That’s good, I mumble after him, as I position myself safely in his arms. And it’d better stay this way.
Note: Okay, so that was this chapter I called “the sex chapter” in my head. I hope that wasn’t too explicit. I tried, but I very rarely include any erotic scenes in my story. Actually, it’s Hailey who pushed me to, because – I don’t know if you noticed – she is very horny and has always been. Soo, moving on. I would like to thank Bee for creating the poses where Hailey and Reggie kiss with him leaning on the column upon my request. I think they are brilliant! Edit: she uploaded the set and you can download it here. She also created the portrait set I used for Reggie’s family’s portrait. Speaking of which, does Amanda remind you of anyone? She’s supposed to, but that’s the mists of time, so I am not sure if anyone remembers. Anyway, thank you for reading and hopefully I stop feeling awkward thinking that I actually posted it!