reminds me of the ti me Noah saw me in my bathing suit at my eighteenth birthday pool party. I guess I’ve never been one to walk around in skimpy clothes, so that day when he saw my developed chest and the bottom of my round ass, I guess he became well aware of my womanhood. I think he was ashamed of the urges I stirred in him, because since then, he has kind of stayed clear of me. He always knocks twice and announces himself whenever he enters a bathroom, or my bedroom.
I lower my hand to cover my almost visible pussy, but it only serves to emphasize my braless breast.
“And why could you not go today?”
“I can’t talk about it.” Bringing the memory of my boyfriend and best friend’s recent betrayal makes my eye swell with tears. I want to run into Noah’s arms and have him hug my pain away; I know now is not the time, though. Now is the time for me to be in big trouble and no amount of reasoning is going to make me not guilty.
“Skipping school. Drinking. Stealing. Drugs. What were you thinking? Is this who you are now?”
“Don’t be mad, please, Daddy.” I pull the “daddy” card, something I only do when I really need something from Noah.
“Don’t Daddy me. You are in trouble. Your mother is going to hear about this.”
“No, you know how she is.” I’m not exaggerating. My mom can be a real tough bitch. I was once grounded for 6 months straight, just for slipping up and saying the word “shit” in front of her. The last thing I need is to go through this breakup without being able to use the Internet or something.
“You . . . you just can’t,” I plead. I move forward closer to my dad. I’ve ceased to even care about my state of undress, but my stepdad hasn ’t, he flinches backwards looking me up and down nervously. I catch him by the arm, before letting my head fall to his muscled chest.
“Stop it, Rebecca. You are embarrassing yourself.”
“I don’t care. I don’t care. I don’t care!” I beat my hands on his chest before sliding down his body. I fall at his feet on my knees. I bring my hands together, continuing to plead.
“Get up!” Noah grabs at my shirt , trying to lift me upwards. I play dead and he just ends up pulling my tank top sideways, nearly exposing my pink nipple and tight young breast. Through my tears, I watch, as my stepdad has to tear away his eyes from my exposed writhing teenage flesh.
“I will do anything. I’ll do all of your laundry while Mom’s away, cook you dinner, and mow the grass. And, I promise , I’ll never skip school again. I should have never even thought about it in the first place. I should have dealt with my problems like an adult.”
With me c linging to him, my stepdad reacts like his brain is short-circuiting. He reaches his arm back and slaps me on the face. The sound of his wide hand connecting with the wet flesh of my face echoes throughout the house. I let loose of Noah, and bring my hands to my face, more in shock than in pain. I cry out even louder.
“I’m sorry Rebecca. You just need to stop right now.”
My mom has always been one to administer a quick slap, but this is the first time my stepfather has ever touched me this way. Truthfully, in the eight years I’ve known him, it’s almost the first time I can recall him touching me.
After the initial surprise wears off, I start to feel a completely different sensation. This feeling could only be one of erotic origins.
Staring up from Noah’s waist, I get an idea of just how I might be able to get out of this.
I don’t stop cryi ng. I latch back on to him pushing my flush cheek against his waist.
What comes over me, I’ll never now, but I whisper, “I’ll . . . I’ll suck you.” I finish my daring offer by looking up with my bright tear filled eyes. I bite my bottom lip at my own mischievousness.
“ Wha . . . What did you just say to me?” Noah cocks his head to the side like I just insulted him in a different language.
“I mean . . . I’ll do
William R. Forstchen, Andrew Keith