A Taste of Utopia (29 page)

“Does my innocent wife have some naughty plans for tonight?”

“You have no idea,” she says breathlessly. The pink on her face turns bright red.

“Now I’ve got to get through dinner with a cousin I haven’t seen in over a decade with a full-blown hard on.” With my arms snaked around her waist, I plant small kisses on her warm face.

Boldly, she palms my erection. “You want me to take care of that before we go?” she says, biting my earlobe. Oh, how I like my prim wife when she turns on the kinky mode.

“Well, I think we have a little time . . .” My lips seize hers into a deep kiss. “But first give me a hint of what my gift is.”

“We’re not going to leave this house until you find out what it is, will we?”

I cock my head. Lottie knows her husband all too well. I’m way too curious for my own good. “I might try to extort the truth out of you. I know some effective strategies that render significant results.” I’ve learned that my little minx will give in to anything when I withhold her orgasm. Oh, and it’s so much fun getting her to surrender to my will.

The only conquest I have yet to achieve is her delicious ass. That’s one thing I want her to want to give to me. I want her to have the same eagerness that I have. If it takes time, I will endure the wait.

“Fine, let me get it.”

She returns from the bedroom with a small silver box. “Happy anniversary,” she says with a flushed face.

I undo the white bow and remove the lid. A blue card sits on top of a piece of thin paper. It reads:

“Tonight, every inch of my body is yours to do with as you please.

Happy First Anniversary!

Xoxo, Lottie.”

With curiosity coursing through me, my fingers flip through the layers of tissue paper only to find nestled under it a small butt plug. A growl leaves the back of my throat. “Wow, woman, you sure know how to turn a man on.” I push her against my rock hard erection. “You sure?” I ask against her ear. I don’t want her to do this because she feels pressured.

“Yes.” Her breathy voice is a whispered promise.

“Why did you do this to me?” I growl. “It’s going to be torture to sit through dinner—in front of your big brother, I might add, and wait for when we get back home. I’m a dead man.”

“Hey, don’t complain. You’re the one who wouldn’t drop it. Besides, it’s all about building anticipation.” She cups my erection and gives a firm squeeze. I’m on my knees. Literally and figuratively. My wife has me at her feet, and she knows it, the minx. “You have a good teacher,” I say, dragging the hem of her dress up. I run my nose along her panty’s soft silk.

“I need a taste of you. Now.” I drag the piece of fabric down her round thighs and bury my face in my favorite place in the entire universe. Pure bliss.

“This is it,” Lottie says when I park in front of a small house bathed in the last rays of sunlight. The first sight my eyes catch is a few birdfeeders hanging from a dogwood tree in the front yard. The knots in my stomach get tighter. Back when we were teens, Luna built birdhouses and birdfeeders as fast as I used to go through a box of condoms.

“Let’s do it,” I respond, filling my lungs with air.

We gather the gifts and flower pot from the backseat and head to the front porch. The front door is already open and a petite woman stands in the dimming light of dusk. I study her face. The same big blue eyes that I thought I would never see again stare back at me. A lump forms in my throat. She is still like a statue. I freeze too.

Jake storms out of the house, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

“Auntie! Uncle Seth,” he says, hugging Lottie.

I ruffle his hair, my gaze never deviating from Luna’s.

Finally she breaks free from her stupor and collapses against me, her arms going around my waist, squashing the sunflower pot that I’m holding in my arm at an awkward angle.

Attentive to our awkwardness, Lottie retrieves the pot from my hand, saying, “Let’s go inside, buddy, you have to introduce me to your little sister.”

I return the embrace, burying my face in hair with pink and blue stripes. Luna’s smell is the same, gardenia and a hint of mint. Her body shakes uncontrollably. Her cheek is pressed in my chest and her tears dampen my shirt.

I notice that my face is wet too.

“It’s really you, Jake. It’s you,” she says in a whisper.

“Yeah, my Moon, it’s me,” I say, kissing the crown of her head. She steps back.

“I can’t believe you lied to me, you prick,” Luna says, planting her hands on her hips and cocking her head.

Loud laughter echoes in the twilight silence. “And you haven’t changed a bit have you? Already busting my balls.”

“Shut up, Jake. You deserve the ultimate speech right now. Lucky for you I’m too hormonal and happy to see your ass to preach.” She pulls me into a hug again. This time she whispers, “I missed you, you know. So, so much.”

“Oh, Luna, I missed you too. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of you.”

“Why did you do it, Jake? I was so miserable, so lost without you.”

“I had to do it, Moon. I’ll explain later.” I pull gently away, and say apologetically, “I go by Seth, now, by the way.”

“Oh, yeah. Lottie and Caleb warned me. But you know some habits are hard to get rid of . . . Seth. I’ll get around to it.” She offers me a smile. Luna’s smiles used to be seldom and precious. I wonder if that has changed. I have a feeling it has.

“Come on in. Caleb and Jupiter are waiting for you. Cal thought it would be nice to give us some private time before you came in.” Luna grasps my hand fiercely as if she’s afraid I’ll disappear again. My eyes glisten with more tears. And I don’t have the “I’m hormonal” excuse of a new mom.

“Nice place,” I say, looking around. The interior is just like Luna, a mix of many styles all coexisting in perfect harmony.

“Thank you. We got it right after we graduated. With Jupiter’s arrival, we need a bigger place. But I just love this house. You must see my garden. The herbs and greens of tonight’s dinner are all from it.”

“I hear you’re a veterinarian, congratulations.”

“Thanks. Let’s go to the kitchen. You probably remember I always wanted to be a vet,” Luna says mindlessly. It hits me. Luna feels as insecure and nervous as I do. We are two lost souls. Acquainted, but strangers. And it will take work to return to normal. A pang of sadness pulls at my chest. We missed a great deal of each other’s lives.

“Yeah, of course I remember.” I stop in my tracks. “Luna, wait.” My tone is grave.

She spins around to face me, her eyes anxious. “Yeah. What?” she inquires.

“Listen, we’ll have time later for me to explain everything. But I need you to know something. Now.”

“Spill it, Jake—Seth,” she says matter-of-factly, but I see the barriers of defense going up around her.

“I love you,” I say clearly and loud.

She swallows.

“All that I did—going away, pretending I was the one who died—I did because I love you, and I thought it would be the best for you.”

She reaches up and her fingers brush the hair falling across my forehead. “I know, Seth. I know. And that’s the only reason I forgive you.” She smiles again. I think I can get used to her smiling often. “I love you, too.”

With our fingers entwined we enter the kitchen. It smells of vanilla and basil. My stomach growls in complaint. It seems silly now that I was so nervous earlier that I could barely eat.

“Hey,” Caleb says, pulling me into a man hug. “How’s it going, dude?”

“What’s up?” I return the half hug and pat him on the back.

“Where’s Jake?” Luna asks.

“Playing with his new toys. This time, he got a double amount of gifts. Lottie blamed it all on Seth.”

I offer an innocent smile. “I’m partly to blame, but Lottie is far from guiltless.”

“Come and meet Jupiter, Seth. She’s absolutely precious. Aren’t you?” Lottie croons adoringly. “She looks just like her favorite auntie.”

“You’re her only auntie, Lottie.” Caleb shakes his head mockingly. He looks at Luna with inquisitive eyes. His lips slide up when she returns a serene stare. He pulls her to his side and tucks her under his arm. They exchange a companionable and silent communication that speaks volumes of love and complicity.

“We know, don’t we, Jupiter?” Lottie says, skimming her nose on the baby’s round cheek. “By default I’ll be your favorite, but that won’t keep me from doing my hardest to keep the spot.” She turns to me. “Want to hold her?”

I glance at Luna. She nods. Her eyes are full of emotion. My hands tremble slightly as I gently collect the tiny infant.

“Want a beer?” Caleb asks.

“Seth hates beer. He says it tastes like piss,” Luna says, opening the fridge, pulling out a tray of appetizers and placing it on the breakfast bar.

“Wine?” Caleb asks, smiling.

“Got to give it to her.” I tap my head. “She has the memory of an elephant. Wine will be cool, Caleb, thanks.”

Jake, fully dressed as Spider-Man, tumbles inside the kitchen. With both hands up, he ejects imaginary spider webs at us. “How did you know Spider-Man is my favorite superhero, Uncle Seth?” He asks.

“Just a hunch,” I say smiling. Spider-Man was my favorite as a child.

In a house full of noise, permeated with the scent of food and happiness, and surrounded by people that I love, I know for sure that we will be okay. More than okay. We’ll be happy.

With baby Jupiter’s little fingers clasped around my pinky finger, I gaze at the woman I madly love. She fixes her eyes on me. Her full lips turn up with a smile that I adore.

I mouth, “I love you.”

She closes her eyes briefly as if savoring the moment. When she opens them, they sparkle with emotion. She mouths back, “I love you more.”

The End

Fall Out Girl

By L. Duarte

We are so accustomed to disguise ourselves to others, that in the end, we become disguised to ourselves.

Francois de La Rochefoucauld.

Chapter One

PATIENCE WASN’T MY
strong suit. Yet there I was, sitting on a boulder—poised, self-assured, and cocky. Perfectly masked.

Waiting for someone absolutely pissed me off, especially if it were a client. My foot started to bob, repeatedly hitting the ground with little muffled thuds, displaying signs of my anxiety. I pressed a firm hand over my thigh. To show emotion was the same as cracking open your chest and inviting others to pry out your secrets, dissect your soul, and ultimately judge and condemn you. No, thank you. I had built a stronghold around my heart. No one got in.

Where the hell was Andrew? I glanced at my watch. Tick-tock. Ten seconds late. If he was a no show in the next fifty seconds, I would flee. One of the cardinal rules of a drug delivery: Don’t wait. Junkies are punctual to a fault. Weird, right? But true. Desperation for the next fix is a great motivator.

I had learned that, in this field, tardiness equaled trouble. And I had become an expert on dodging problems, earning the reputation as one of the best hustlers in the area. I pushed off the boulder I was sitting on, and stood up.

Thirty seconds.

With a look of serenity far from the way I felt, I opened my compact mirror, mussed my hair, and checked my makeup, a pretense to scan what was behind me without appearing concerned.

Twenty seconds.

I shoved the mirror in my messenger bag and glanced at the interior. The secret compartment where I stashed drugs was the way I intended—unnoticeable.

Ten seconds.

“Luna!” An overly-friendly voice called.

I snapped my head up and locked eyes with Andrew. He always gave me the creeps, but he was a stellar client. Cocaine, pot, pills, the works. He was always an eager consumer.

“You’re late,” I said, appalled.

“No, I’m not.”

“Fifty seconds. I don’t do late.”

“Jeez, take a chill pill,” he said with a charming grin that had girls melting their panties.

A nervous energy hummed through my skin when I noticed a stranger standing behind Andrew. My hands balled into tight fists.

“Who is that?” I nodded to the guy, my eyes never deviating from Andrew.

“Oh, this is my boy, Caleb. He moved here over the summer.” Andrew’s arm flung to the guy’s back, propelling him forward and making introductions.

I refrained from rolling my eyes. During transactions, the less emotion on display, the better. But I couldn’t resist the urge to examine the incoming boy. I bit the inside of my cheek as my eyes zoomed in on him, tracing his face and body. He was a typical all-American boy—sharp jaw, green eyes, full lips, disheveled dirty blond hair—in a dire need of a cut, perhaps it was the new trend—broad shoulders, and narrow hips (such a cliché description, I know, but I’m just stating the facts). To add offense to his good looks, he had an unnerving and mesmerizing smile that promoted him to the poster child for the term “golden boy.” Did I mention the dimple? Yep, according to popular belief, an angel had kissed his left cheek at the time of his birth.

Not that I was cataloging him, or anything, I wasn’t. Did I mention that I was an observant person? I was. Besides, the idiot might be a potential future client.

“You know that’s not how I roll.” I adjusted the strap of my bag. Shit, I was counting on this transaction. Cash. Good cash. But I also valued my freedom. Jail had no appeal to me. Unless I did a background check on my clients, and anyone observing the transaction, I didn’t deal. There was always another junkie waiting on my endless list.

I circled Andrew, making haste to leave. But Andrew’s boy was faster than I was, and sidestepped, blocking my path.

“What’s the hurry, love?” he asked, with a deliciously husky voice. The cocky smile hadn’t left his lips. (P.S. his lips looked soooo kissable).

I shook my head, discarding the hideous thought. What’s wrong with me? For the record,
I was
a hardcore, badass, and bitchy teen. I didn’t do attraction to cute, dimpled boys. That idiotic thought was just a lapse in judgment.