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Lauren Adams Ch. 01

By: EtherealGenesis



Let me get one thing out of the way -- I'm not good at storytelling. But, I guess I feel like this story has to be told, and I'm the only one that can tell it, so here it goes. Christina was maybe a half-inch over five feet tall. Well, she probably still is. I always admired her for her, well, unique outlook on life. She had worked all her adolescent life to get her Medical Degree. I don't remember the school, but I'll bet it's pretty prestigious, given the way she tells everyone that gives her a second glance about it. I guess I never cared enough to listen.

As for me, I'm five-eight, and a half, and I tell people I weigh 180 pounds. In truth it's closer to 220, though. I'm not much to look at, though with my hair cut a certain way and my mustache trimmed, I can look quite charming. I had moved in with Christina out of convenience. Simply put, my step-father had pulled his pocket knife out during an argument with my mother. Bless her, Christina gave me solace when no one else could, or would. That was 18 months and one week ago from when my story begins.

Anyway, this day pretty much started like any other -- Christina and I had another argument. I was really getting sick of trying to assert my point of view when all she did in rebuttal was look at me with her head cocked sideways and her hands on her hips. She always had an answer, and it was never the right answer. To make a needlessly long story short, I ended up walking out of the apartment. I made sure to slam the front door extra hard so she could feel it vibrating through the walls.

It was too far to walk to anywhere interesting, and I was wearing flip-flop sandals. As I pondered where to go to clear my head, I found our complex's pool. There wasn't anyone there. Clothed in but shorts and a tee, I opened the gate, marked Santa Fe, removed the aforementioned tee and flip-flops, and waded in. The water was warmer than I've ever remembered, at least in this pool. I'm sure I was an odd sight each time I resurfaced and attempted to peel matted hair away from my eyes. I took my place at one end of the pool, horizontally speaking, exhaled deeply, then sharply took breath and launched myself in the direction of the opposite wall. With one hand in front of me, for fear of knocking my head against the wall, and one hand holding my shorts up, for fear of them slipping off, I kicked powerfully to propel myself. Before my lungs were the least bit strained, I felt the wall and pulled myself back up. With this victory, I grew bolder. I swam to the other edge of the pool, looking directly ahead of me at the wavering waterline that stretched from my end to the nine foot end. I let all my air out again, held there for a second, then sharply inhaled and kicked off.

My eyes were clenched tightly shut. The water moved in swift, irregular ripples over my back. Every muscle in my lower body was pounding. One leg over the other. Up. Down. Up. Down. Up. Down. I lowered my kicking to push more water away from me. My pace increased. My heart was smacking viciously against my sternum. My lungs were crying for oxygen. I stretched my arm out farther. I wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer. I let out a huge, desperate breath underwater that bubbled up all around me. A second later, I had had enough. I shot up and jerked my head out of the water with an incredible gasp. My eyes were still clenched. I felt around for the edge of the pool, and felt nothing. Finally my eyes shot open.

I was a good fifteen feet away.

I didn't make it home until after Christina had left for the hospital. I wandered the house, my shorts and hair still damp and stuck to my skin. After I was sure that she was gone, I locked the front door and stripped bare. It's fun being naked. Especially with my skin still wet, and the cool, conditioned air inside the house coating my form, walking through the bedroom to our bathroom as if gliding through misty air.

I turned on the faucet and let the water heater sufficiently work our water into a luxurious, lukewarm state before I put in the bath plug. I gathered up my cheap MP3 player and $10 Sony speaker set and set them on the counter next to the bath. Soon enough, the bath was ready. I settled in and held the on/off button on my MP3 player until I could hear the first synth hums of "If Winter Ends" by Bright Eyes.

"And I give myself three days to feel better..." Conor seemed to be channeling my situation. I guess I get that way whenever I really get into a song, or a band. It happened with Brand New's Deja Entendu at the end of my first serious relationship. I wrote about an album's worth of songs after that relationship failed. Soon after, I was introduced to Maroon 5, and I began to cheer up. And then, with the arrival of The Mars Volta, I began to really enjoy music again, instead of correlating it to life. Because there's really no serious way to tie any of De-Loused to real life. Not by the greatest stretch of the imagination.

Conor's cold vision of a dead relationship was shattered by Taylor Hawkins' huge snare pounds to open No Way Back. I loved that about my playlists. I never took mood too seriously. One song will put me at the verge of tears, and the very next will have me waving my arms and stomping my feet, air drumming, like air guitaring, only more annoying. This list, TEN, meaning my tenth list since I've been in Midland, is especially schizophrenic. The water splashed around my feet as I tried to keep time with Mr. Hawkins. I imagined someone walking in, Christina perhaps, and just staring with a blank expression. But that thought was not enough to kill the joy of the moment.

A little more background about our situation seems fitting at this point in my story. I had met her online through the magic of AOL Chat. I don't remember which room we were in, but we hit it off immediately. She was by far the funniest person in chat that night. She told me then that she was set to begin an internship at Midland Memorial Hospital, and that she had just ended a serious relationship. I told her I was just escaping one myself. She laughed at this. At least, I think she did, because she typed "lol."

When the incident happened, the first thing I did was run. I ran to the nearest convenience store and called Christina from a pay phone. We talked for hours before she had the idea to come collect me and take me home with her. It took some tricky maneuvering, but I was able to sneak everything important that I had out of the house that night and walk it to that same gas station. It was one-fifteen in the morning when I saw her pull up in her little red GMC. Lamesa is about an hour and a half from Midland, but it seemed like five minutes before I was in front of her home on Wadley Street.

It was during those awkward times that I first told her I loved her. She didn't say it back. Not right away, at least. To this day I don't remember her telling me she loved me without me having said it first. I don't even remember the last time I gave her that opportunity. We moved into this apartment so her mother could have the house. She didn't add that everything there reminded her of her ex.

The bath water was soon too cold, so I stepped out with Runaround by Arlo blaring through my tin can speakers. "All she ever gives me is the runaround... Runaround, Christina, runaround." Lyrics modified. I dried in no hurry. The player stayed on while I dressed in fresh shorts, shifting to Rough Landing, Holly by Yellowcard, then to High and Dry by Radiohead. It was dark outside. I switched off the player when the song was over.

Tonight was shaping up to be another huge bore. I take classes at Midland College, sure, but not every night. I'll spare you the intense details of my night, though there weren't many. I snacked through the night on microwave egg rolls and pizza and downloaded more music onto my laptop. It was past 3 in the morning before I finally made the decision to settle in for the night. Most nights I didn't have any impetus for dragging my tired form to bed, but my strong laps in the pool and the still warm sensation of chlorine on my skin bid me slumber.

I woke up on my ear. That is to say, I slept on it wrong. The whole morning I spent wandering around the house tweaking it various ways, trying to alleviate the pain. Christina got home about noon. I didn't bother to check exactly when.

"So late?"

She looked at me with her head cocked sideways. "Long night. Leg injury close to hemorrhage." These days she was quick with responses and quick to finish conversation. I didn't argue with her about the meaning of hemorrhage. Or about the fact that interns, by policy, were not supposed to stay late. I had two more days to feel better.

"My sister's coming over tonight," she added. "You don't mind?"

Yes I do. "No, of course not." I ignored the fact that it was more of a statement than a question. Instead I focused on my plans for getting through the evening.

I should clarify. It's not that Sam is a bad person. It's just that I can't stand her. Every time she comes over, her and Christina talk and laugh for hours about the most inane drivel you could possibly imagine, and they never try to invite me into their fun. Maybe it's just jealousy, but it used to be me sitting across from Christina, making stupid jokes about stupider subjects, laughing the night away. Add to that the fact that Sam doesn't intimately know the words "personal" and "hygiene". Or how to put them together.

Within the half-hour I was alone again. Christina was off to bed to catch some sleep before Sam's arrival. There was typically no disturbing her during her midday nap, as it was the only sleep she got. So there went any possibility of reconciling our argument from yesterday. I rifled through the day's newspaper for anything interesting. Car sales, classifieds, comics I've already seen, and the movie times. Pulse had just been released to theaters. That'd be a good way to kill an afternoon. At least, I hoped. I would be back at college the day after tomorrow, so the boredom would only last for two days anyway. 

For only having been an intern a year and a half, Christina sure has a fancy car. A three-year old Lexus LS430. Certainly nothing like her trade-in, the little red GMC. Still, it was too sterile to be anything I would consider driving. If she had asked me to guess what kind of car I could see her driving when I first met her, I would say something along the lines of a Chrysler Crossfire convertible. But maybe that's my Daimler-Chrysler bias talking. The theater was just a couple of blocks north anyway, so I decided I would hoof it. I slipped into another tee shirt, dragged a comb across my head, and laced up my sneakers. My player was still lying on the table, so I grabbed it and matched it with a pair of headphones. I shut the front door quietly behind me. Slipping the headphones onto my ears, I was on my way.

SEVEN is the playlist for extended walks around town. It keeps me energized. It was also the first playlist since I got to Midland that I put together without any songs from Christina. She wouldn't approve of The Shins and Death Cab for Cutie, anyway. She always was more of a country girl, and there were few rock artists she liked. I nearly got through my entire eighty-minute long playlist before I arrived in front of Hollywood Theaters.

It was 1:42 pm when I bought my ticket for the 2:30 showing. I bought myself a small soda and tried to kill time by slowly walking to my theater. The theater was already half filled with people. Maybe they were all as bored as me. I sat down with my drink and was consumed by the hum and drone of the sixty or so people around me. They all seemed to be saying the same thing, in the same tone, at slightly altered intervals so as to make it seem like a dull echo. It wasn't long before I grew annoyed of this. I got up out of my seat and smacked directly into a young girl trying to scoot past me.

"Oh shit, are you alright? I'm so sorry..." The words came out of my mouth on instinct. I found her hand and helped her up from the floor. The first thing that came up was a beautiful light brown head of straight hair. The next thing I saw were two golden brown eyes, infused with a look I'll never forget, a look of apology though she'd done nothing wrong. My gaze was fixed to those eyes as she righted herself.

When she finally looked up at me, she had the tiniest little smile adorned on her small, round face. Her eyes had lost none of their glow. What finally snapped me back to reality was her first spoken words to me..

"What the hell, man? What do you think you're doing? I was walking there!"

I was frozen. My eyes must have been as wide as they've ever been. I would have spent the whole movie apologizing.

"Nah, I'm just kidding. God damn, you looked like a deer in headlights just now!" She put her hand on my shoulder. I still didn't have anything to say. "Anyone sitting here?" I looked down. She was pointing at the seat to my left.

"No... no. I came alone."

Her smile grew. "Good. I wouldn't want to have to walk past you again." She laughed at this, a gentle stream of laughter that filled the nearby air.

It was another minute or so before I worked up the courage to say anything more. I would come to be very glad that I had.

"So, have you heard anything about this movie?"

She turned to me. "No, but I've seen a preview. It looks okay, I guess. I'm just trying to kill the afternoon."

"Me too. I saw it in the paper." She was still turned towards me. I must have had the dumbest smile.

"Do you mind me asking... what's on your player?" She pointed towards my lap.

"No, sure... you can take a look if you want. Or a listen."

She slipped my headphones on, adjusting them to fit. "Oh my God! I love Imogen Heap!"

I laughed out loud. A little too loud. I wasn't sure if she heard me. The player had been turned off near the end of The Moment I Said It.

"I can't believe you... nobody knows about Imogen," she told me when the song was through. "Garden State?"

It took me a second. "Yeah. That song at the end... best movie moment of the past decade at least." We were talking about the Frou Frou song at the end, a band of which Imogen was a member.

"Garden State is like, my favorite movie of all time. What's yours?"

I hesitated. "True Lies."

She laughed a big laugh. It was refreshing. "What else do you have on here?"

We were still on the topic of Garden State, right? "The Shins. I make playlists of songs I download and I think they've been on every list since I saw Garden State. Death Cab. Coheed. Random shit." Coheed and Cambria is another band that features prominently on my playlists.

She was browsing through SEVEN. "You put a lot of thought into these, huh? I just throw whatever I'd like to hear that day onto my MP3 player." She had it with her. She offered it to me, still smiling.

The first song on there was Delilah from Plain White T's. I would have it stuck in my head the rest of the day.

"To be honest, I heard this movie was pretty awful, actually." I knew where she was going with this and didn't try to interrupt. "Why don't we go hang out upstairs?"

I grinned. "We won't get our money back."

"I don't mind if you don't." I didn't. I let her leave in front of me and held the large theater door open for her. As she slinked past me, I got my first good look at her. Petite figure, and a cute little stomach defined by the thin fabric of her floral one-piece dress. She was only about as tall as my lips. Well, she probably still is. We made our way up the stairs in the front and sat at a clear glass table in front of a huge window. She was even more beautiful in the sunlight. The features of her face simply glowed, from her upturned lips to her small cheeks. I don't know if it was because she noticed me staring blankly, but she began the conversation.

"Well, I know your favorite movie, and your style of music. What else is there to learn about you?"

"My name. I'm Bryan. And you are?" I smiled and offered her my hand, quite mock-formally.

"Lauren. Such a pleasure to meet you, good sir." She was giggling as she shook my hand.

"The pleasure is mine, milady." We laughed at this, her hair tossing about her neck.

Hours went by and we covered all the basic topics -- where she lived (a fancy set of apartments closer to downtown), who she lived with (her mother and her black cat), what I was going to college for (I didn't have a clue, yet), what she was going to college for (she took classes at UTPB for psychology), what she was doing later, what I was doing later. Neither of us would admit to having anything to do later. I certainly wasn't looking forward to going home and seeing Sam on my couch, but I didn't tell Lauren that. I didn't feel like mentioning Christina, either. And there was no one at Lauren's home that she was obligated to. We were free to while away the rest of the daylight. I felt like I knew her so well, I could predict what she would say and how she would react to what I say. Still, there were times when she would absolutely surprise the hell out of me, most times for the better. By the time either of us knew it, Pulse had already gotten out and people were streaming towards the exits. 

"So you walk often?" Lauren was getting inquisitive.

"Every chance I get. Why? Did you drive?"

She pointed out the window to the parking lot. "Mine's the silver Crossfire."

My eyes must have shot out of my head. Like when any given cartoon character meets any given token hot babe in said cartoon. "They don't even sell those in Midland, do they?"

She laughed again. I was certainly not getting tired of that. "It was marked down like seven thousand. I couldn't pass it up. Monthly payments are a bitch, though."

"Tell me you got the supercharged V-6?"

"Right! Do I have the words 'First National Bank' plastered across my chest?" We laughed together. I couldn't help but check her chest, just to be sure.

And then, before I could stop myself: "I'd love to have a ride in it some time."

Shit. Why did I have to ruin the conversation by saying something like that? I had to keep face. I couldn't let on that I was absolutely terrified at myself for saying that, for being so forward. Despite my best efforts, I knew she could see right through me, and she was just prolonging the agony before she gave her response. My countenance twitched, almost imperceptibly. Would she just shrug it off and change the subject? I saw her mouth move, barely, a twinge, the faint beginnings of a smile? She reached into her purse.

"So let's go." She'd pulled out her keys.

My excitement was uncontainable. I practically jumped out of my seat and tripped over myself in the process. Lauren was laughing at me the whole way to the parking lot. We finally got to her car. The convertible top was down, and I did my best to climb in all cool and nonchalant with the door still closed. She was still laughing.

"Ready? I have to stop home anyway and check on my kitty." She turned the key and the V-6 came to life with a satisfying purr. She pushed the transmission roughly into first gear and we sped off through the lot and onto Loop 250. She took the turn sharp, almost too sharp to be safe. We nearly hit 70 on that short stretch of road, before she engaged the tremendous ABS system and stopped us just short of the crosswalk. My hair was ruined. The light turned green, and she sped further along the Loop, swerving to pass a school bus before she slammed us to a stop just short of the next intersection. She didn't wait for the light, though, and we turned right onto Garfield, past Midland College. We screamed through Garfield and Wadley just before the light went red, still hovering at about 55. She might have told me where we were going, but I couldn't hear anything beyond the rush of air. We kept going down Garfield until we hit the hospital. A sharp right, at about 30, in front of the emergency room and we went back north on Andrews Highway. The lights were all green from there to the entrance of Villa Chateau apartments. She took it easy, relatively speaking, through the complex and to her front door, where she eased the Chrysler into its covered spot.


Lauren Adams Ch. 01



She turned the key and away went the pleasant V-6 growl. I made a production out of exiting the car and woozily walking towards her front door. She was laughing at me again. I didn't mind; rather I welcomed it. She held the door for me this time, and as I walked in I noticed how clean everything seemed. There was the requisite big screen HDTV, two large couches, a recliner made of what looked like leather, and faux potted plants everywhere.

"Ick. Don't stare at it too long, it'll burn your retinas." Lauren was disapproving of what was apparently her mother's design ethic. A large black cat jumped up onto the back of the closest couch. "Charlie! I missed you!"

She picked up her kitty and carried him with her into the hall. "I'm gonna get changed. Grab a Coke if you want."

She disappeared into the hallway. Having already drank a full small soda back at the theater, the only thing I needed now was a bathroom. I looked around a bit, then decided the facilities must be down the same hallway my host had gone down. I wandered deeper into her home. I looked in one door and found a small supply closet. Boring drivel, mostly. A trophy, marked Lauren Adams, for baseball. It caught my eye mostly because of the polished figure poised half-way through the pitching motion. I shut the door; I now had something to talk to her about.

I continued down the hallway and happened upon a corner. Further down was a door, probably to the master suite, I told myself. Still, my curiosity got the better of me, and I had to know for sure. I tread slowly along the plush carpet until I reached the door. I could hear music coming through the door. Dismemberment Plan. She's got taste. I was hesitant as I clutched the doorknob. I didn't want to catch her half-naked. At least, I didn't want her to think I wanted to. I opened the door slowly.

Lauren was clad in naught but a black bra and boy cut panties with pink and white horizontal stripes. And rather than attempt at all to find clothes, she just danced to the song coming from her modest Klipsch 2.1 setup. Her golden hair was a sight to behold, falling upon bare shoulders and cradling her breasts. Her firm body swayed sensually to the rhythm of the song. I would have thought it rather rude that she was taking so long, had I not gotten voyeur privileges to her little performance. When the vocals came in, she, almost on instinct, grabbed a nearby hairbrush and began to sing along.

"As kisses go, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary..." I tried my best to lip-sync along; she knew the lyrics much better. Her hips rocked back and forth, in perfect tandem with Joe Easley's drumming. She turned from me, allowing me an incredible view of her firm ass rolling slowly along with the beat. And then, I saw Charlie. And he saw me. He jumped off of the large, maybe queen-size bed and jogged over to me with a disasterously loud "Meow!" At this, Lauren paused. She turned to the door. I made an effort to hide, but she had already seen me. She threw on a pink babydoll tee and shut off her speakers. At this point, I just threw caution out the window.

"Hey, I liked that song."

She didn't seem to be amused. "Very funny. You think it's okay to just walk in on a girl like that?"

I was frozen again. "I didn't... I mean... I needed the bathroom..."

She didn't reply for what seemed like the longest ten seconds I'd ever been through. Then, finally: "You know what this means."

She looked rather serious. I swallowed hard. She was waiting for a reply. "No, I don't..."

She took a long, slow walk towards me. I tried hard, but couldn't resist scanning her still scantily-clad form over with my eyes. "It means we're not on an even plane." I was confused, but she continued. "You've seen me in my underwear. It's only fair that you return the favor to me."

I played dumb. "How?"

"Take off your shorts." She was face to face with me now, but I still didn't know how serious she was.

"What, now?"

She crossed her arms. "And the shirt."

"I'm not... wearing any underwear." No lie. I wasn't.

"Now." She was definitely serious. I shook, just a little, as I pulled my shirt over my head. I hesitated as long as I could before I slipped my thumbs between the elastic and my skin, sliding the fabric slowly off of my lower body until I was completely naked in front of Lauren, the cute girl from the movies who I had just met three hours ago.

Her expression didn't change much. She was still looking at me quite sternly. Then I noticed two things that changed the mood irrevocably: her eyes were slowly scanning downward, and I had quite an impressive erection. I grew a bit bolder by this. Her gaze stopped between my legs and stayed there. I now had the upper hand. I thought.

"We're still not even," I mentioned, as casually as I could manage, what with still being naked and all.

"What do you mean?" She was still staring. In truth, this didn't make it any better. My penis was throbbing from all the attention.

"I'm standing here without a stitch of clothing on. It's your turn."

She looked up at me. Her face was one of contemplation, but I could sense a wrinkle or two around her mouth that told me a smile was hiding behind her countenance. She turned from me. I didn't know what to do next. I just stood there, my cock still bouncing, and waited for her to do as I had told her.

Without warning, she ran her fingers through the waistline of her cute little boy cut panties and pulled them off. Then she waited. I took this as my cue: "The top, too." She pulled her babydoll tee over her head and unclasped the front of her bra, all of this pretty routinely, as if she was undressing for a shower. She was enjoying this.

"Now turn around."

She performed an achingly slow pirouette, and finally, Lauren Adams was bare before me. She was smiling, quite a sly smile, as she slid her hands down the sides of her stomach. She finally settled them at her hips, which drew my attention to the lovingly trimmed hair just above her labia. My cock grew harder. I scanned upward, along her gorgeous stomach, and fixed my gaze at her chest. Her nipples were hard. She was as excited as I was by this little chance occurrence. She certainly wasn't shy about exposing her fabulous body.

"What now, Bryan?" It was the sexiest damn thing Lauren had yet said. Her smile grew. I had to see how far she would take this.

I walked to her and took her hand. To my surprise, she pulled me close and kissed me. It was a gentle kiss, her lips moving softly over mine, her tongue playing across them, parting them softly, searching. I found her tongue with my own and we locked into a slow, sensual rhythm. I wrapped my arms around her body, slowly caressing every available inch of her soft skin, up to her neck, crawling slowly down across the small of her back, down across the curve of her ass. Her hands were not idle, either. She slid one between us and found the head of my still-throbbing manhood. I gasped softly into her mouth as she began to run her thumb up and down my slit. My hips began thrusting unconsciously as I silently begged for her to take my whole cock into her hand.

I slid my hand down across her stomach softly, my fingernails scraping across her skin. I felt her sigh as my fingertip grazed her exposed clit. She lightly pinched my cock head as a sort of retaliation, which made me squirm. She slid her thumb and forefinger slowly back and forth along my cock, following the sensitive nerve on the underside. My efforts at kissing her lapsed as I enjoyed her soft touch along my most sensitive skin. She settled into a steady rhythm, up and down my cock, as it gently moved under her caress. I pinched my thumb and finger on her clit in the same rhythm and took hold of her bottom lip between mine. She responded by slipping her other hand through our bodies and stroking the underside of my balls with her fingernails. My lower body was shuddering at her expert touches. My fingers slowly dropped off of her clit as I decided to focus on my own pleasure instead.

Lauren knew what she was doing. And she knew it was working. She slid her fingers off of my cock and into her pussy, coating them with her arousal. I broke our kiss to watch her slide them back out, shiny with her juices. Abruptly she grabbed my cock with her slick fingers and began to stroke me more vigorously. My knees buckled. I was having trouble standing. She certainly did know what she was doing. I took a step back to maintain my balance. I couldn't take this for long. I felt the initial spasms of my climax deep behind my balls. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum..."

She stopped mid-stroke. Slowly she slid her fingers down to the base of my stiffness. She clenched them there and grasped the middle of my cock with her other thumb and middle finger. She had a devilish fucking smile I'll never forget. She kept eye contact, watching my reactions intensely, as she began to slowly massage the underside of my cock with her middle finger. I could feel the sweet ache move from the base of my cock all the way to the head, growing more insistent, begging for a touch, begging for release. A stray breeze across my slit could have sent me over the edge. And she knew this, by the look on my face and the feel of my pulsing veins. I was crying out to her with the look in my eyes, please don't, I need it, God please...

And suddenly she was on her knees, taking my cock head between her lips, sucking me free of every last bit of pleasure, as my hips bucked violently and I was cumming, hard, deep into her throat, spraying her with hot, slick cum, and still she didn't let up, her lips growing tighter and more persistent around my head, her tongue lashing my slit, taking all the cum I had to give her, my hands grasping her hair, her hands clenching my ass, my final thrust and a deep groan, and finally she let up the pressure of her lips. I collapsed on the floor and she stood over me, smiling as she licked her lips. My breath was ragged, my every muscle sore. She sat down by my head as I lay on her carpet.

She kissed me gently on my cheek and just watched me, silent, as I began to regain composure. I felt I should say something, but I had nothing to add to the moment. I simply rested, my vision hazy. After a short while, I was able to sit up with my back against her bed, and she did the same, smiling at me, proud of what she'd done to me. It was a warm smile. But it wasn't enough. I needed payback.

I took her hand and lifted myself from the floor. Then, with the same hand, I shoved her down onto her bed. She bounced once, with a look of surprise, and then I had her. I held her thighs down on the bed and grasped her clit between my lips, circling it with the tip of my tongue, sliding two fingers deep between her moist, velvet pussy walls. I could hear her moaning, feel her thighs clenching around my head, and her pussy squeezing my fingers tightly. I slammed them harder into her, faster, more aggressively, as my lips pursed and tightened on her little jewel.

"Fuck, Bryan..." Her hands were pushing me hard against her pussy now, and I responded my moaning low tones across her clit, vibrating it with the flickers of my tongue. I let up when she pulled her hands back, and took her nub between my teeth gently, stroking back and forth as my fingers continued to pound her. Her legs were shaking. I attacked her clit with my tongue, licking all around it and sucking it between my lips once more, then repeating. Her pussy clenched tighter on my invading fingers. Her clit pulsed sharply between my lips. Her hips were off the bed now, hovering an inch or so, desperately aching, her pussy pulling my fingers in deeper, and then she said the sexiest thing I'll ever hear a woman say:

"Make me cum, Bryan..."

I had gotten what I wanted. I now had control. I pinched her clit with my thumb and forefinger, my other hand still pounding her sweet cunt, and thrashed my tongue along the top, sides, edges of her little nub. She was desperately thrusting in the air to meet my fingers, clenching and releasing in a sweet rhythm along with them. I felt her entire body becoming tense, as I sucked her clit into my mouth once more, harder than before, pulling it as I clenched my lips upon it, penetrating deeper with my fingers, until she was bucking hard with her climax, screaming, her pussy pulsing around me as I tugged her clit harder, feeling its torturous cries between my lips, my fingers aching from the sweet squeeze of her hot pussy walls, still pounding, unrelenting, finally thrusting one last time as deep as I could, as I pulled her clit with my lips, and she cried out... "Bryan! Fuck!"

She gave one last massive buck, high into the air, and abruptly her hips dropped, her cunt loosened, and I slid my fingers out slowly, resting them on her tortured labia as I pulled my lips off of her clit. I kissed her entrance softly before I laid down next to her, my hand around her waist. She had the most beautiful look on her face, a mix of a dreamy haze and a sweet smile, that I had to kiss her lips softly, again and again. We just laid there for the longest time, hours, it felt like, my arms around her, my lips across hers, my body conformed to her body.

I said nothing for a very long time. It was Lauren who broke the silence finally, with: "We should probably get you home, sweetheart." At this, my arm tightened a bit around her waist. Too soon, I said, without saying anything. She kissed me softly and settled back down. It was another few minutes before I loosened my grip and allowed her to re-dress. I watched her from the bed as she slipped into her cute little boy cut panties once more. She pulled on her bra, clasping it in the front, and put on her pink babydoll tee. She grabbed a khaki skirt from atop her dresser and pulled that on, as well. When she was fully dressed, I sat up on the bed and threw my clothes back on. We walked together out of her bedroom. She opened the front door to let Charlie, and us, out.

The sky was overcast. The whole world was quite a bit darker than it was when we were talking by the huge window at Hollywood Theaters. I remarked quietly to Lauren that it might rain. At this she depressed the power top switch and the Crossfire was enclosed for us. We stepped in and rolled up our windows, and then just sat for a while, in a sort of reverence of what had just happened. Sure enough, I heard the soft pattering of rain on our windshield as she turned the key. The last thing I saw before we pulled out of the parking spot was Charlie running back to the protection of the front porch. As we pulled onto Andrews Highway, the cars were all making thick vapor trails through the standing water. The world was grey and foreboding, but I didn't notice. My eyes were on Lauren the whole way home. My hand resting on hers, and hers on the shifter. By the time we pulled into the alley, behind which was my apartment, it was coming down pretty hard. She parked just behind my building and turned off the car. She was just staring out the windshield at the pouring rain before I took her hand again.

She turned to me with a warm smile. "Thank you, Bryan. That was... well... that was certainly something."

I felt giddy inside, but kept my cool as I moved my palm up to cup her cheek. "Lauren?"

"Yes?"

I made a serious face. "I have something to tell you."

She frowned. "What is it?"

I stalled a couple seconds to enjoy the little wrinkles her face made when she was concerned. "I don't really know how to say this..."

Another delay. "Yes, Bryan?"

Finally I came out with it. "You gave me the most amazing orgasm I have ever had. And I want to see you again."

Slowly the smile returned to her lips, growing wider as she replied, "Of course. So, dinner tomorrow?"

"What time?"

"Six-ish?"

Perfect for me. With any luck, Christina would be asleep at six tomorrow. I leaned over and kissed her lips. I then leaned away to open my door, but she pulled my head closer and kissed me more deeply. Her tongue darted between my lips to find mine, and we locked in passion once more. I closed my eyes as I slid my hand along her thigh, up between her legs, slowly, teasingly, until I was sure her panties were soaked. I was going to make sure she would remember me all the way home. I pushed aside the fabric gently and ran my fingernail up the side of her clit, slowly, absorbing the shudder of her lower body with my arm. I took my lips from hers and watched her expression as I repeated the slow tease up her clit. Her back arched a bit off of the leather seat, her eyes closed, her breath came shallow and quick, and I stroked her sweet jewel one last time. I slipped the fabric back into place and slid my hand back out, scraping her skin with my fingernails. Her eyes were still closed.

"God, Bryan... what you do to me..." She grabbed at the bulge in my shorts and gave it a quick stroke. "I shall see you at six tomorrow, sir." 



Lauren Adams Ch. 02



The door was locked. Christina knew I was gone, and she knew it was raining, and she knew it was gusting fierce wind, and yet the door was locked. I knocked. Just hard enough to let her know I was upset with her. Another moment's pause. I knocked again, harder this time. Finally the door came open, and I scuttled inside.

"Where have you been?" It was nearly seven already.

"I took a walk. In the rain." Sarcasm is my only friend. Besides Lauren, I suppose. I scrambled to the bathroom to finally relieve myself of that full large soda from the theater. It was maybe five minutes since I left the warmth of her Chrysler Crossfire convertible, and I missed her already. Maybe I missed having someone to talk to. Maybe I missed her awesome body. Maybe I just liked feeling like there was someone who was actually trying to make me happy. Whatever it was, I needed that more than I needed a night with Christina and her sister, Samantha.

Christina and I have been together for a year and a half, and in this year and a half, she hasn't told her family about me. Her explanation for this is that her father would disown her if she knew that she had taken in a strange boy from nearly a hundred miles away, no matter the reason. Thusly, whenever her father or another member of her family comes over, I have to not be here. Which causes me great grief, as I have to hide in our walk-in closet until said family member leaves. Sam is a smidge more accepting. She thinks I live down the street, and that I come over to spend the night because I can't stand my parents' fighting every day. Which isn't that far from the truth, I suppose.

Finished, I zipped up, flushed, and walked to the little twin-size bed Christina had laid out for me in the front room, to further the illusion. There, I collected my laptop. Sitting at the couch opposite Sam and Christina, I switched it on and pulled up Winamp. Sam was laughing about something on television. The most annoying laugh you'll ever be privileged to hear comes out of that woman's mouth. I pulled my headphones off my MP3 player and plugged them into my laptop as I double-clicked Hey There Delilah. I must have listened to it a dozen times in succession. I missed Lauren.

Time passed, as did much of my music library, and finally Sam was getting up to leave. I didn't look up until the front door was shut. When I did, I noticed Christina moving quickly towards the bedroom. I pulled my headphones off and moved to intercept her.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to get ready for work." And she shut the door.

I just stood there for a moment, before calling out after her, "We need to talk!" She didn't reply. I waited until I heard another door shut. She was readying the shower. The water heater clicked on and the walls were soon droning with the flow of water through pipe. I sat back down by my laptop and fell back against the cushion. I just sat there, thinking. Thinking about Christina. About Lauren. About what I did earlier. About what I planned to do the next day. About what Conor Oberst said through my crappy Sony speakers in the bathtub last night. About just driving it off a fucking cliff. Two more days to feel better. If I stuck by that, of course. At least now I had something that could make me feel better. I thought about Lauren again. I missed her horribly. I took a deep breath. I could still smell her. I closed my eyes. I could feel her presence. She was in the driver's seat. We were hurtling down Loop 250 at unsafe speeds. She was walking away down the hallway. She was dancing in her underwear. She was on her knees in front of me...

"Are you asleep? Lock the door after me."

I opened my eyes slowly. Christina was dressed casually, holding her scrubs in one hand and her keys in the other. I took my final opportunity.

"We need to talk."

"And I need to get to work." She advanced towards the door. Suddenly I stood up and blocked her.

"We need to talk about us, Christina."

"I don't want to talk about us."

I got angry. "Why? Because you're ashamed of me? Our relationship is built on a God damned lie!"

Her face scrunched. "Don't say it like that. I don't mean it like that. You know how my father is."

"When were you born, Christina?"

She paused. "Eighty-two."

"Which makes you how old?"

Her face changed again. A bit of a laugh and then, "Shut up, you. It's not that simple. You should know that."

I lowered my tone. "You don't live under his roof anymore. You don't need to be afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid, I just..." She struggled for words. "I don't want to complicate things."

"For who? Cause things are plenty fuckin' complicated for me." I was still blocking the door. She tried to brush past me and I took her arm gently.

She sighed. "I'm gonna be late. Do you want me to lose my job?"

I thought for a second, before I delivered an ultimatum I never thought I would be able to follow through with.

"Do you want to lose me?"

Our eyes were locked. I let go of her arm. She just stood, staring up at me, her face changing from businesslike to concerned, then to contemplative. She looked down and repeated, "I'm gonna be late," before she turned the door knob. And then she was gone, and the door left wide open. I didn't have the heart to carry the argument outside. I just stared out into the rain, watching the LS430 pull away and out of the complex. I shut the door slowly.

I took an early bedtime that night. Besides the fact that Christina was gone, Lauren had left me pretty exhausted. I was almost ashamed at myself for what we had done. But at the same time, I didn't know what to think about Christina. We had been growing so far apart, it seems, ever since I got here. I should have been happy that Lauren had come into my life. I should have just been looking forward to dinner tomorrow. I should have just forgotten about the argument with Christina. Instead, I let my mind swirl with everything that had happened that day. I didn't get to sleep until three.

My vision was cloudy. I could remember something about hospital equipment, electronic beeps and buzzing. Christina was standing over a patient, proclaiming him to be dead. I could remember the coldness of her voice as she said those words. I could remember all of this, but now I was sitting on a large, maybe queen size bed, staring into a bright light. I blinked, and it was Lauren. She was sobbing, panting, moaning, "Make me cum, Bryan..." I got up slowly, and I was suddenly by her side, holding her, kissing the nape of her neck, whispering...

"I love you, Lauren..."

My eyes shot open. I was sweating. The sun was beating its full force through the blinds I had neglected to shut. I groaned.

Toast for breakfast. I ate slowly, thoughtfully, wondering what Christina was doing. Wondering what Lauren was doing. Tracing the steps back to when this duality began. I won't be able to do this for long, I thought to myself. I switched on the TV as I finished eating. Some soap opera drivel. I marveled at how screenwriters can be so incredibly wrong when describing relationships. Then, suddenly, I kicked myself for not asking for Lauren's phone number. She would certainly have done something for the boredom.

I started thinking about the dream I had. My head began to buzz and ache as I remembered the bright light between the hospital and Lauren's bedroom. I remembered feeling warm in Lauren's arms. I didn't want her to let go. I didn't want to come home to Christina. Was that just in my dream? No, I had felt that way yesterday, after my act of infidelity. I scolded myself for thinking like that. Suddenly I got up and started pacing around the living room. The clock on our cable box read a couple minutes after noon. Christina still wasn't home.

Maybe I'm a fatalist, but I believe nothing happens by chance. It was four months ago when Christina was offered the overnight position at the hospital. It came with a $2,500 bonus, which she used along with her little red GMC to walk off the lot with the Lexus she now drove to work each night. It also entailed a three dollar an hour raise, which brought her enough money each month to pay her new car and keep a comfortable lifestyle. We've had more arguments over that issue alone than any couple should ever have. And this, what was happening right now, was why. For four months Christina has had no time to spend with me. I've been stuck at home, with nowhere to go, nothing to do, and no one to hold. And every day, Christina comes home, we exchange a few pleasantries, and she's off to bed, with nary a second thought about me. The three days of the week I go to school, I'm gone when she comes home, and she's asleep when I get back. And when I don't have school, there's boredom, emptiness, where Christina once was.

I pressed my fingers into my temples. Between the fight last night, my dream, and the ruminations over what kind of life I'm destined to lead, my head really hurt. I found the bottle of Excedrin and inhaled two with my Sam's Cola. Then I laid down on our larger sofa and flipped the channel to ESPN. Billiards. 9-ball, to be precise. I had always loved pool, though I stunk at it. Such was also the case with poker, baseball, lacrosse, life in general. Though I must have done something right yesterday, as karma saw fit to introduce Lauren into my drab existence. Perhaps to rescue me from it? No matter what I did that morning, I couldn't erase her from my thoughts. Maybe I just won't try to reconcile Christina's arguments anymore, I thought. Maybe Lauren and I will run off somewhere exotic. Fiji. The Bahamas. We can live behind the teacup ride at Disneyland. We can take our meals ten thousand feet up on a summit of the Rocky Mountains. But now I was just being silly.

I switched off the TV drone, clothed, and walked outside. Everything in sight was covered with a thin coat of water droplets from last night's rain. The sight of it is always lovely. And the smell of water on asphalt is a favorite also. I took in the trees with gently shimmering dew kissed leaves, slightly yellowed with autumn's first touch, the cars and trucks shiny and slick, the puddles on the ground reflecting the strikingly blue sky overhead. So blue, in fact, it was as if there had been no storm at all. As if the blanket of water spread across the town was an inferior mirage, akin to one you might see distant in a desert on a hot day. The cool air refreshed me, calming my throbbing head.

I turned the corner, around my apartment building, enjoying the rare atmosphere. Then, focusing ahead of me, I saw the back of a tan, full-size sedan. A familiar shape. I moved innocently forward. From the back, I could faintly make out a stylized "L" logo. And the tag number on the license plate. It was Christina! But why was she parked behind our building? There were plenty of spots right near our front door, and I'm sure she wouldn't want to risk another storm, and having to rush between buildings in the rain. I saw a figure in the passenger's seat. But no driver. Intrigued, I moved closer, cautious in my approach. The figure in the passenger's seat had a short, buzzed, blond head of hair, and its head was tilted back as if relaxed. As I continued to move forward I saw it -- Christina's head lifted in an arc from passenger seat to driver seat headrest.

I ran back to the apartment, up the stairs, dashed through the door, and shut it behind me. My heart was pounding; my breath was ragged. She could not be allowed to know that I had seen her. I started flinging pillows and things around to make the front room look more lived in, to make it look like I hadn't been out for a walk just now, that I hadn't just witnessed my girlfriend in her car with another man. As if I'm the one that had something to hide. I tore my shoes off and stripped back down to what I'd slept in. I switched the TV back on and got comfortable on the couch -- I looked comfortable, anyway -- while I awaited Christina's entry.

The ensuing fifteen minutes lasted a lifetime. I don't remember what was on the television when I heard the car door slam shut. All I remember was my heart never slowed, never relaxed to a normal resting rate. I was still sweating when she finally walked in, nonchalant. I fought the instinct to rise up and confront her, and instead allowed her to walk through the room and into the kitchen. When I finally found my voice, I addressed her.

"Late again?" I swallowed.

"Overnight is hell."

I hated when Christina complained about her job. She chose her fucking comfortable position over spending time with me a long time ago. I was silent for another few minutes. And then, unable to stop myself:

"Who is he?"

She stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Who the fuck is he? Don't play stupid."

She looked at me with her head cocked sideways and her hands on her hips. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm tired." She started walking towards the bedroom. 

I should have said something, done something, but I was too tired of conflict at that point. The bedroom door shut. My eyes shut. My brain was still knocking viciously against my skull. The image I had seen not twenty minutes ago was still looping in my mind. I finally sat up and looked at the time. It was close to two. Another four hours until Lauren would arrive. Christina would be deep asleep by then. Now it was just a matter of killing time. And boredom. And my headache. And the thought of Christina. My laptop was still on the other sofa. It took an unusually hefty amount of energy to transfer myself from one couch to the other. I opened it up and simply stared at my desktop wallpaper while I tried to sift through all the thoughts in my mind.

Foremost was Christina. Now I knew why she was late, not only today, but more than likely every damn afternoon. The thought burned itself through my mind, though all my heart felt was numbness. No, that's too... cliché. It felt more like a pinhole in the center of my heart, through which everything I had ever felt about Christina was slowly, painfully draining. It was the rest of me that felt numb. It was jealousy. Was it? Here she was, sucking off some random guy, when she won't even give me the courtesy of a normal conversation. But did I really care that it wasn't me in the passenger's seat this afternoon? After all, Lauren had given me the most amazing... anything... that I had ever had. What if I did leave Christina? What if I just ran off with Lauren somewhere? For the second time in less than an hour, I was thinking about leaving with another woman. So does that make me innocent in this whole affair? I'm just as bad as Christina. I've been cheating. I've been lying. I've been going around behind the back of my significant other. And here I was, complaining that Christina was doing the same thing I had done just yesterday.

The one thing that made me feel better was thinking of Lauren. She would come soon enough, and rescue me, and take me somewhere where I could forget everything else but her. I wouldn't let Christina ruin the night I had planned. I shook my head violently, as if to shake Christina out of my mind. Then I got up and started pacing around, just to have something to do. I walked to the kitchen and made two more slices of toast. Then I sat back down at my laptop and browsed to Yahoo! games, where I proceeded to waste the hours playing Literati and coming up with words I never even knew existed.

Soon enough, though not soon enough, it was time to get ready for Lauren. I allowed myself plenty of time for the requisite shower, shave and shine, and plenty of time afterwards, to allow for Christina potentially waking up. From the closet, I selected my best button-up shirt and khaki Dockers. I looked much better in these than in the shorts and tee shirt Lauren had met me in yesterday. I dressed and cologned myself.

The cable box read 5:42. I was early. I silently hoped she would be, too. Lounging on our larger sofa, I tried my best not to let Christina back into my head. The sun had just begun to sink behind the homes on the horizon. I wandered out onto the patio to get a better view. The orange and yellow and pink hues of the sunset blended with the reds and browns of rooftops to create a beauty that nature could never have intended. It was against this backdrop that the silver Crossfire slowly approached. I shut the door and practically ran down the stairs to the passenger side door. Looking in, I saw something that made the entire day's events just melt.

Lauren was smiling.

----------

"So you don't know why you're going?"

"Nah. It's mainly so I have something to do. I don't want a minimum wage job, and I don't want to be stuck in a career I'll hate for the rest of my life."

"Understandable." We were talking about college. "I'm not so sure about Psychology, myself," Lauren continued. I mean, what kind of career options do I have? Psychologist, yeah, but that's it."

I chewed my tortilla. We were at this hole-in-the-wall Mexican buffet on the other side of Midland. Karaoke, and $5 fajitas, were all that kept this place afloat. And the fajitas weren't all that good.

"What about baseball?"

She looked up, a bit startled. I quickly explained:

"I found a trophy in your hall closet..."

"Oh, so you were snooping around while I was changing, were you? I'll have to watch you more closely from now on." She was smiling. God, I'll do anything to get her to smile. She was gorgeously under dressed, in a grey Texas Longhorns tee and blue jeans, her hair playing about her shoulders as she talked. I felt a little awkward, sitting in my Sunday best, trying so hard to impress her. I should have worn shorts and a tee shirt.

She continued. "I really wasn't as good as that shiny achievement of mine would have you believe. I was a pitcher, and sometimes a third baseman."

"Basewoman," I interrupted.

She giggled, then went on. "Anyway, I swear to God my ERA was somewhere in the hundreds. I never struck anyone out, and I walked half the batters I faced."

"Oh come on, you're exaggerating." I smeared some watered-down green salsa on my tortilla and loaded it with more charred beef.

"I was better at third base. Couple of the other girls said I had a vacuum for a left hand, and a rocket for a right."

"See? Just avoid the mound and you'll be alright." We both laughed.

Just then, the server arrived with fresh tortillas. "Anything else, you two?" He was unusually friendly for being stuck working in such a dump. We shook our heads in tandem and he walked away, presumably to cater to the one other seated table in the entire restaurant.

"So why'd you quit the game?"

She frowned. "I didn't see a future in it. Maybe if it was you, you know, a man has the Major Leagues to look forward to. There aren't any big organized leagues for women's baseball."

I nodded in agreement.

"So the way I figured, I should try and follow a career path that actually has a future for me. And that's how I was duped into Psychology."

I loaded a new tortilla with onions and peppers as I asked, "So what has Psychology taught you?"

"Nothing much. I'm mostly passing because I'm good at book work, and tests. I can recite facts, sure, but I don't know what it all means." I noticed she had barely touched her plate, which contained strange red-sauced balls of pork, shredded meat of some kind, and steamed veggies.

"Y'know, I played Little League when I was a kid."

"Really?" She seemed genuinely interested, and relieved to be off the topic of Psychology.

"That's where I learned to be a switch-hitter."

She leaned back in her chair. "I sense a big, dramatic story coming on... am I right?"

I laughed. "Partly. Not big, but I guess interesting nonetheless. I got to the plate twelve times that season. The first eight times, I came up right-handed. And I struck out all eight times. Didn't even hit the ball. Not so much as a foul tip."




Lauren Adams Ch. 02



"And then, your fortunes were magically turned around by..."

I laughed again. "I switched to left-handed."

"Wow!" She was pouring on the over-dramatics. I couldn't help but just watch her as we giggled together. Her eyes were so bright, her cheeks just a hint of rosy red, as she giggled at our combined silliness.

"Anyway, the last four times I came up lefty, and walked all four times. Still never got bat on ball, though."

She was smiling as wide as ever. Now was the time to tell her what I thought of that.

"You have the most beautiful smile... I have ever seen on a woman."

At this, her cheeks turned even redder, as she made a weak attempt to cover her face with her hand. "Stop it, you." We laughed some more.

After acclimating herself to my sudden compliment, the bold Lauren returned. "So, what's your favorite thing about me?"

I thought for a second. "You mean, besides the things I shouldn't mention in public?"

Her jaw dropped. She reached over with her right hand and smacked me on the shoulder as she began laughing harder, big belly laughs she couldn't contain for the benefit of the other people in the restaurant. We just laughed together. I didn't want to say anything else, for fear of interrupting. For fear of saying something that would ruin our perfect moment. I wanted to stay in the little isolated bubble we'd made, encircling the dinky wooden table at the crappy little Mexican buffet on the wrong side of Midland.

Soon enough, though way, way too soon, our food had gone cold. Unwilling to risk another trip to the buffet, which at this point could have had cobwebs all over it for all the use it was getting, we decided to get back in the car and just cruise the town. She was walking ahead of me, and I stopped when I realized she was heading toward the passenger's side door.

I remarked, "Steering wheel's over here, babe."

She shot back with, "I know." Then she threw something at me. My reflexes were just good enough to knock the flying object down to the floor, where it crashed with a metallic ring. I shot Lauren a puzzled look, then stooped down to collect the item. A Chrysler crest, attached to three or four keys.

"So, where are we going, babe?"

I thought for a second. "Y'know, the girls from baseball were right."

She stared blankly at me. I continued.

"You do have a rocket right arm."

We climbed in, laughing. I just sat there, enjoying the claustrophobic environment inside the Crossfire. I'm one of those people that you could classify as a "reverse claustrophobic." I love enclosed spaces. I turned to Lauren, and she was just sitting there, grinning, waiting. So I leaned over and kissed her. This widened and brightened her already amazing smile.

I turned the key, sparking the engine with a low, guttural growl. I wasn't sure, but I thought I heard her make a soft gasp as the vibrations shook the cabin. I pulled out of the parking lot and onto Big Spring, with the intent of cruising downtown Midland. I drove carefully, much more so than Lauren had yesterday. Reaching the intersection between Big Spring and Front, I could hear soft, barely audible whimpering coming from my right. I stopped at the red light and looked over to see Lauren's eyes closed, her mouth half open, and her right hand moving slowly downward to rest between her thighs. I froze, said nothing, held my breath, not wanting to interrupt. Her hand gradually increased pressure, moving up and down almost imperceptibly between her thighs. She bit her lip, her soft moaning becoming more audible as the engine slowed. 

I shook my head and snapped out of my daze. I was going to have some fun with Lauren. I put the transmission in neutral and revved the engine, pushing it past 5,000 rpm. At this, she tightened noticeably and began rocking her hips up and down against her hand. Her eyes were still closed. She was completely tuned out to the outside world, nothing on her mind but the steady vibrations coming through the seat and through her body, wrapped up in her own pleasure, blissfully ignorant. I switched feet on the gas pedal so I could move closer. My foot began slowly rocking the pedal as I grabbed her free arm and pulled her in for a deep, longing kiss. She gasped loudly into my mouth as our tongues met. I could feel the soft buzzing of her moans on our lips as we locked them passionately. I eased up on the throttle, and my lips softened. Just as I felt her relaxing into my kiss, I pushed back down on the gas. She yelped into my lips, pulling me closer with her free hand, as her other hand grinded through the crotch of her tight jeans. I broke our kiss just long enough to say:

"So, is this why you bought a Crossfire?"

She smiled an exceptionally sexy smile. I bent in to kiss her once again, but was interrupted. Honk.

"Light's green, asshole! Move it!"

I shook myself to my senses. Instantly I did my best heel-and-toe downshift, throwing the Crossfire into first, screeching away from the intersection. I looked over and Lauren was laughing, her face glowing red.

"What?" I was a bit embarrassed.

She giggled. "You are too cute, Bryan."

I blushed. At least, I'm sure I did, because never in my life had my cheeks ever felt so hot. I reached for her hand and, finding it, brought it to my lips for a quick kiss.

"So, where are we going, anyway?" I queried.

"That's your decision, sweetheart." She dropped her hand to my lap. "But wherever it is, can we get there soon? I want this."

I needed no extra persuasion. I pulled into the nearest dark parking garage, searching for a spot while Lauren's fingers searched for my cock. As soon as I had found a worthwhile spot, I coasted to a stop and put the transmission back in neutral, as Lauren tore down my zipper. Before I had the car off, her soft lips enveloped me. She was swirling her tongue just beneath the crown of my cock head, her fingers gently stroking up and down my shaft, her passion evident in the shudders of her lips as she took me deeper in her mouth. I leaned back, resting my hand on her head, as she moved slowly up and down my cock, dragging her tongue along the delicate underside, tracing the veins along my skin. She moved up to tease my cock with short, rapid flicks of her tongue, flicking it back and forth just beneath my head, moving to slow, long licks across the slit of my cock head, then gently nursing the tip like a baby's bottle, the roughness of her tongue playing along my most sensitive areas.

"Don't stop... God, yes..." She reached further into my Dockers to run her fingernails lightly across my perineum, over my balls, down and back again, sending sharp shivers and shocks through my shaft as her lips worked every inch in. With every long, slow, drawn out caress from her lips, her tongue, her warm mouth, I shuddered with excitement. I grasped a fistful of her hair as her lips met her fingers at the very base of my cock. She simply held her position, her tongue moving slowly up and down as she sucked down on my entire manhood, her hand gently cupping my balls, feeling them for any indication of my passion's impending release, gently stroking, tracing soft, teasing circles across my skin. My thighs grew stiffer, my lower body tensed, my balls compressed -- I was going to cum in Lauren's mouth, again, and that's exactly what she wanted.

Her tongue rolled slowly over the head of my cock, my hips bucked hard, and then her lips clamped down at the base of my cock as she gently squeezed my balls, sending me past the edge. I was cumming, I was shooting her throat full of my hot cum and she was just sucking down harder, every inch of my cock buried in heat, every inch on fire, my head thrown back as my hips took on a desperate aching, thrashing up and down, thrusting against her lips, and still she kept steady, milking my cock with her tongue, rolling it up and down my cock as I exploded, pulling on my balls and pushing on my perineum, coaxing from my sack all the cum I had to give her, swallowing it hungrily, devouring me as I writhed about on the leather seat. I thrusted hard one last time, gave her one final spurt of my hot seed, then settled back down into the seat, blissfully spent.

Her mouth was still encircling my flesh. I shuddered as she slowly withdrew her lips, dragging them across my over-sensitive skin. She slid over my throbbing cock head, and kept her lips perched neatly on the tip of my head as she looked up at me. My eyes were cloudy, my every muscle weakened by ecstasy. She swallowed my head once more, at which my hips jerked, and then released my cock with a soft popping sound. Her lips traveled slowly up my body, kissing softly, from my thigh up to my cheek, then she moved back to her side of the car. I just sat there, motionless, resting, until she spoke again.

"Turn the engine back on."

I did as she commanded, and set the transmission to neutral. She shifted forward in her seat and closed her eyes as the car began softly buzzing.

Still drowsy, I managed to gather enough wit to remark, "I'm starting to think you like this car more than I do."

She cooed softly. "Maybe. Mmm... faster."

I depressed the pedal, causing the cabin to vibrate more intensely. Lauren was erect in her seat, grinding her hips down on the leather, clumsily trying to undo her jeans button and its accompanying zipper. Switching feet on the pedal, I leaned over to her, whispering, "Let me help."

My lips found her neck, tugging on her soft skin as I moved my fingers down to unclasp her button. Free of restraint, her fingers shot downward and fervently thrashed at her clit. She really does like her car, thought I as my lips caressed her softly. I depressed the pedal harder. Her breaths were short, sexy gasps for air. Her entire body was shuddering, from the vibration of the engine, her hand thrashing about beneath her jeans, and the sensations of ecstasy coursing through her with every swipe of her fingers over her skin. I let go of the gas, letting the engine rest awhile, while I kissed Lauren's sweet lips. I felt her soft moans coming faster, more urgently, louder. Her body was moving violently up and down in her seat. She was fucking herself. Hard. What I wouldn't have given at that very moment for it to have been my cock instead of those fingers. But I held my rapidly re-hardening phallus in check and let Lauren have all the fun.

I kissed my way down her tense form before reaching an erect nipple, which I took between my lips through Lauren's Texas Longhorns tee. At this, I felt her back arch towards me, pleading. She wasn't wearing a bra. I slid my hand under her shirt to show her what I thought of that. I grasped her nipple between my fingers and pinched, squeezed, stroked, as her fingers tore at her pussy.

"God, Bryan, I love that... don't stop baby..."

I kissed her gorgeous lips once more, before returning my own lips to her neck, my tongue tracing delicate circles across her flesh. I clasped down upon a small patch of her skin and sucked hard, biting the flesh entering my mouth, sucking and kissing my way across her throat and up her chin, my fingers gripping her taut nipple. I squeezed it hard before retreating my hand to the bottom of her shirt, which I lifted for better access to her firm form. Her nipple was hard, red and inviting. I gently kissed its tip before taking it between my wet lips, sucking and biting softly. I felt her start to thrust faster, harder, moving further up and down in her seat. I tightened my lips around her nipple and pulled hard, as my fingers did the same to her other. She was gasping, moaning, pleading, her body writhing in her seat, hips sliding back and forth as she fucked herself. It was time for her to cum. I bit down on one nipple and pinched the other hard, as she screamed...

"Bryan! Fuck! I'm cumming!"

My foot instinctively forced the gas pedal down as her fingers tortured her pussy, clawing in and out, rabidly fucking herself harder, faster, my teeth and lips locked to her nipple as I pulled and tugged on it, riding her arching back as she cried out in desperate moans and gasps. Her whole body was shaking viciously as her fingers plunged deeper, her pussy devouring them and clamoring for more. I released my lips and kissed hers passionately, fucking her with my tongue as she fucked her pussy. I felt one final gasp, and her body loosened, as did my foot on the pedal. I held her as she slid her fingers out of her panties, managing to weakly grasp my arm in reciprocation.

I moved my lips to her ear. "Better?"

A soft reply. "Mmhmm."

I kissed her earlobe. "I love watching you cum."

I felt her smile as she grasped me tighter. And then: "I'm hungry."

I laughed softly. "Well no wonder... you didn't eat anything at the buffet."

I pulled back to look into her eyes, soft and shiny with afterglow. She smiled. "Let's go home. My mom can cook us something."

I kissed her lips once more before reaching for the keys. Unconsciously, I turned them, before realizing the car had been on the whole damn time.

"Dork." She laughed. "You're so cute."

Moving the shifter into reverse, I backed out of the dark parking garage and onto Big Spring. We were silent for the drive back to the Villa Chateau. It was already dark outside, and the clouds were threatening rain again. There's something special about living in the Permian Basin, and that something special comes in the form of weather anomalies not experienced by many other regions of the country. Basically, Midland lies in a bowl. This bowl ensures that if a tornado passes near, it will likely either be deflected away, or roll harmlessly above us before losing energy. This bowl also aids in the formation of thunderstorms, I'm sure of it. I don't know how a thunderstorm builds, but I'm certain it builds well in the Permian Basin.

We pulled up to the parking lot, exited, and walked up the door quietly. Suddenly I realized what I was about to do. I was going to meet Lauren's mother. I had never even met Christina's mother. Come to think of it, I hadn't met any of the mothers of the women I've dated. But Lauren was nothing to me. At least to her mother. She was just a friend. I wondered silently if she had told her mother anything about me. Damnit, I should have asked her myself. I was a bundle of jumping, flailing nerves. I felt certain my internal shuddering was noticeable, because it seemed Lauren had picked up on it.

"Don't worry," she remarked, sweetly. "I suppose I should have prepared you, huh? Just be you. I like you, so my mother is sure to like you."

Her words were immeasurably soothing. Still, there was a nagging question. "Have you... mentioned me...?"

She smiled. Then she opened the door.

"Hi baby! Oh, this must be Bryan!" Lauren's mother, a petite woman with hair like her daughter's, walked to the door and grasped my shoulder. "How are you, hun?"

I smiled awkwardly. I was sweating. "I'm okay, Mrs. Adams."

"It's Ms., sweetie. I got rid of the R in my title quite some years ago. Come in, you two, have a seat!"

Great. Two seconds in and I had already made a mistake. We walked through the door just as the first thunder clasp rolled over us, causing a large, black cat to scurry off the sofa and down the hallway. Charlie doesn't like thunder.

"Oh, you guys came home just in time. I hope you two saved room for scones!" Lauren's mom called as she entered the kitchen.

"Sounds wonderful, mom." And then to me, "Mom makes the best scones I've ever had. Have you had a scone before?"

I replied honestly. "No, I haven't."

She giggled. Leaning in, she whispered, "It's just a biscuit. My mom likes to make it sound more interesting than it is."

"I heard that," came the reply from the kitchen. Rain was beginning to trickle down the windows.

"Mom, I'm gonna take a quick shower." A good idea. She smelled like sex. She shot me a wicked grin before disappearing down the hallway. A white Mac laptop sat on a desk in the corner.

"Can I check my mail?" It was a flimsy excuse to use her computer.

"Sure," came the reply from a no doubt already half-undressed Lauren. I sat at the desk and opened up the MacBook.

Her wallpaper was a big, high-res picture of her sitting in the open Crossfire, a pink babydoll tee clinging to her chest, a short white skirt draped around her thighs. It was hot. I opened up her pictures folder and took a copy of the photo, so I could send it to myself through Yahoo! mail. Her iTunes library was also open. I browsed through, noting some stellar acts such as Boys Night Out, OK Go, The Receiving End of Sirens. There was a track still on pause. Come On by Number One Fan. Instantly, and without thinking, I started singing it softly: "Come on, come on, come on... Don't be afraid of it, falling in love..."

Just then, Ms. Adams was beside me.

"Here you are, Bryan."

I looked up, shocked by her suddenness. It was a small scone on a large plate, drizzled with honey. "Jam?"

I took the plate. "No... no. Thank you." I took a bite. It was a very good biscuit. Err, scone. Then I pulled up my Yahoo! mailbox.

Thirty-three hundred and eighty-nine. A personal record for e-mail classified by Yahoo! as Bulk. My inbox hadn't been checked in a long, long time. I sent myself the picture of Lauren, and then found that I did have some legit e-mails. A few each from Musician's Friend and Music 123, just so I keep them in mind for when I do acquire enough money for a nice drum set. A few dozen from some mailing lists that I don't remember signing up for and that I do remember UN-signing up for. GameSpot, IGN, a message to myself about a neat website I found, like five months ago. At the top, the newly sent picture. And just beneath it, a message with this subject line: Your mother is in the hospital.

I left that one alone, resolving to open it last, all the while hoping that it was a hoax, and that some insipid advertisement lay behind such an ominous header. I then started working my way through the virtual pile. Delete. Delete. Delete. Forward that joke. Delete. Bookmark that website. Delete. Delete. Save that picture. Finally, there was one last e-mail to check. I took a deep breath before double-clicking.

I'm really hoping you get this, Bryan. Your mother is in Lubbock with a broken neck after James threw her against the wall. The hospital is Covenant, her room number is 313. If you can come down and see her, it would make her feel a lot better. She needs to know you're okay. I need to know, too.

Michael

P.S. Don't tell James.

I was frozen. I was in a stupor. I read and reread the message, hoping the words would change. Hoping the letters would split into something completely different, like one of those Magic Eye puzzles. I got dizzy. Michael was my younger brother. Now I really felt like a shithead. Michael didn't abandon his mother like I had. And now she was in a hospital in Lubbock from being slammed against the wall. With a broken neck! If I had been there, I would have been able to do something. I just sat there, staring at the LCD screen, reading and rereading the message, each successive pass beating it into my mind how horrible I had been for leaving home.

James was my step-father, the fucker who pulled a knife on my mother and caused me to leave in the first place. And now this. Even from miles away, he still controlled everything. My entire body shook with a deep hate of this man who had come into my life and taken control and hadn't given a single shit about who he was hurting. All that ever mattered to James was having things his way. His house, his family, his life. No one could question him. I heard footsteps. Quickly I shut the mail window.

Ms. Adams was coming back out of the kitchen. "So, how did you and Lauren meet?"

I took longer than I should have to answer. I was unsure of what to say. I didn't know if Lauren had misrepresented me to make me look good. "At... at the Hollywood Theaters."




Lauren Adams Ch. 02



"Oh, that must have been fun." She sat down on the recliner made of what looked like leather, but wasn't. "Did you see a movie together?"

I hesitated again. "No, actually. We left the theater and just talked." I was still aching from the news about my mother. Now was not the time for a line of questioning. I wished Lauren was there, standing by me, sitting on the sofa, anything. I needed something comforting. She must have sensed that something was wrong, because Ms. Adams ceased her interrogation.

"Is something wrong?"

I shook my head. "I'm fine." I chewed my biscuit. My scone. "This is nice, Ms. Adams."

"You can call me Colleen. Or Connie. Or mom." She laughed. She was way too friendly, and in way too good a mood for me to tell her about my troubles. I heard, and felt, another clasp of thunder outside the apartment.

It was then that Lauren came out in a big white towel robe. She went to the counter and grabbed a scone, drizzling it with honey. Looking over at her, I feigned my best innocent smile, but she knew something was wrong. She gave me a look that said, "Don't worry, I'll be right there," before disappearing back through the hallway.

I was silent all the while Lauren was clothing herself. I felt even more uncomfortable than I had when I didn't know Lauren's mom. Now I did know her, but I had known her for scarcely minutes, and I was already hiding things from her. And what I needed right now was to tell someone, anyone. Suddenly, impulsively, my tongue forced words out of my mouth:

"Ms. Adams?"

She was startled. "Yes, Bryan?"

Just then, a fully clothed Lauren walked back into the living room. She sat down on the sofa next to her mommy, and smiled at me. I waited for her to get comfortable before continuing.

"I just checked my e-mail..."

----------

I had told them everything. About how I left my mother with an abusive husband. About how I hadn't bothered to give her an address, a phone number, or anything with which she could keep in touch. I told them I was staying with a friend here, that I hadn't even bothered to call or contact my mother in a year and a half. And that because of my neglect, my mother was in the hospital with a broken neck. I looked up. Both Lauren and her mom were genuinely concerned. The sight was too much for me. Tears escaped from my eyes, sobs from my mouth, and I cried, loudly.

I felt four hands rubbing my shoulders and back as I continued sobbing. I heard Ms. Adams -- Colleen -- tell me it was going to be okay, that my mother wasn't too seriously hurt, that it could be taken care of. I was soothed. Not completely, but enough for me to continue my story through the sobs.

"My brother was the one who sent me the e-mail... he didn't abandon Mom like I did..."

Colleen spoke up again. "Now now, you can't think of it that way. There was nothing you could have done. Your brother wasn't able to stop it from happening, either."

I sat up, looking into Lauren's eyes, as beautiful as ever, just a hint of tears behind them, for me, for my mother. The rain was beating down harder now, a steady cadence of water streaming down the windows and walls. Her mom continued.

"I grew up believing that nothing happens by chance. Maybe I'm a fatalist, but I think there is a purpose to everything. Your mom surely didn't want you to have to suffer in that household any more than she had to. I'm sure she doesn't blame you for leaving. And I know she doesn't blame you for how your step-father is."

Lauren had been silent this whole time, and chose the perfect time to speak. "We can call your mom in the morning, and we'll go visit her when you don't have class."

That was a whole four days away. I shuddered. It was comforting how much Lauren and her mother cared. Surprising, too, especially in Colleen's case. I looked up at Ms. Adams, smiling weakly, and thanked her for her concern. Then I asked to be excused.

"Sure, sweetie." Her smile was warm. "Lauren, will you take him to your room?"

If what had just happened had not just happened, I would have been much more excited to have been going back to Lauren's room. Colleen helped me to my feet, and gave me a warm hug, speaking softly.

"Everything will be alright. Go rest now."

Lauren took my hand and led me down the hallway and into her room. She sat with me on the large, maybe queen-size bed and held both of my hands, nuzzling her head against my cheek. I was silent, my eyes still wet and sticky with tears. I felt her soft, sweet lips move gently across my shoulder, up to my neck, before resting on my cheek. I was very tired.

I lied down on the bed, wrapping in Lauren's comforter as she moved to my ear to whisper softly, "Do you need some time?"

I grasped her hands. The words came from my heart before my brain could stop them.

"I don't want to be alone..."

I fell asleep with Lauren by my side, holding my hand, stroking my hair, kissing me softly. After the night's events, after all the crying I did, I slept deeper than I ever have.