BENCHED (13 page)

“What did he do?” Anger flares in my chest and I feel my muscles tense.

“Nothing at first, he was just my sleazy boyfriend, but he kept pushing me. He got into some trouble and needed money. He took me to a hotel… he put an ad on the Internet. Advertising me. For,” she swallows, hard, “for sex. To be paid for sex. But he’d keep the money. He wanted me to be a hooker. He was going to pimp me.”

“What did you—”

“I got out. I went out the back window and almost broke my leg, but I got away. I ran until I found a phone and called my dad and went home. I was already pregnant, I just didn’t know it. I never saw him again and I don’t know what happened to him.”

I hug her tighter.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. Kids get talked into things. He’s the one who hurt you.”

“I went with him. My mom went into a coma while I was gone. I never got to talk to her again.”

Phoebe breaks down into sobs, shuddering into my chest.

“I don’t care what you did when you were a kid. You’re a wonderful person now. You’re a good mom, you’re beautiful, and you deserve better than a shit heel like me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“You thought I was a dick, admit it.”

“I did, but you’re not.”

Phoebe sniffs and rubs at her nose. I grab an old shirt from the hamper and hand it to her, and she blows her nose and scrubs at her eyes.

I let out a long, rasping sigh. “I’ve got to go to the field. Practice.”

She nods. “Go. I don’t want you to get in trouble. I’ll be fine here.”

I make sure she’s lying on the bed and relaxing before I leave. I don’t want to go, but they’ll arrest me if I don’t show up. I trudge across the yard to get my car and head over.

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

It’s Lou. I sit in the car and rest my arm on the steering wheel while I press my phone to my ear.

“What?” I snap.

“I got great news, big guy. The whole thing with dating the cop is going over great. It’s going viral all over social media. The photographer--”

“
What?”
I snarl.

P
hoebe

I
have to get Carrie
.

Finally, I give up on waiting for the end of the school day. At two fifteen, I get in the Tahoe, drive to the school, and head into the office to sign her out. Rather than wait for them to call her down from her class, I walk down to get her, stand with her while she grabs her things, and lead her out of the classroom.

She holds my hand as we walk down the hallway. Her fingers are tiny and delicate in my grasp. As she limps down the hall with me, I realize how fragile she is and want to pick her up and carry her with me. I can’t do that. I have to let her go on her own.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” she asks me, once we’re away from her classroom.

It takes me a moment to answer. I don’t want to tell her the truth, that I’m so goddamn mentally weak that I need to cuddle my daughter. I don’t want to tell her that I can’t suck it up and deal with my job. I’m supposed to be this rough, tough, strong protector type and I can’t handle a lunatic with a pocket knife.

“Nothing, honey. I just…”

I can’t even think of an excuse.

As she’s climbing into the car, I finally relax a little. The car feels safe. This thing is built like a tank. I pat her head and ruffle her hair.

“I just needed some time with you. Mommy-daughter time. Why don’t we get some ice cream?”

“Okay,” Carrie says, never being one to turn down ice cream.

Instead of the Dairy Queen in town, I take us out to the Dairy Freeze on Route 9 for the real deal. I don’t even really care about ice cream, I just need to see Carrie safe and happy. I get a small milkshake for myself and let her indulge in a banana split. We sit out in the sun behind the place at one of the worn picnic tables. Carrie kicks her feet under the bench as she eats, too engrossed in the sweets to speak.

I prop my cheek on my hand and watch her, sipping from my own shake.

“Practice is soon,” she says.

“You’re not ready yet,” I sigh. “Your leg, honey.”

“We can still watch.”

“Okay, okay.”

I simply can’t deny her.

After she finishes, we head to the high school. The kids are on the field. Alex is with Eddie, doing his thing. He spots me and gives me a little wave, and I wave back, and take a spot on the bleachers with Carrie.

It’s a nice day with a good breeze, and watching the kids settles my nerves. The last time I saw Alex out here, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, but now he talks animatedly with the children, gesturing and bellowing. When they start wind sprints, he runs alongside them.

Carrie is itching to join them, I can see it. She wriggles from side to side on her seat and watches as the kids toss the ball around. They can’t really make forward passes very well, but when they do, it’s hilarious to see them grabbing a ball as big as their chests from the air and running along with their big goofy pads and wobbly-oversized helmets.

Alex is so good with them. They all crowd around him, and even Eddie is smiling. Alex finds a moment to slip away and sit next to me on the bleachers.

I fight the urge to rest my head on his shoulder. I’m not sure I’m ready for that kind of public display yet.

He doesn’t give me a choice. He throws his arms around my shoulders and pulls me close. Carrie scoots up next to my hip and puts her arm around me, too. Tears well in my eyes, and I tense with the strain of holding them back.

“How are you holding up?” Alex asks.

“Holding up from what?” Carrie says.

I sit up. I’m not angry with him, surprisingly enough. I turn to her and put my arm around her, take a deep breath, and tell her the story.

“I don’t understand,” she says.

I sigh. How do I explain this?

“The crazy lady thinks Alex is her boyfriend, but he’s not.”

“He’s your boyfriend,” Carrie says, nodding sagely in the way only a six-year-old can.

“Yes, I am,” Alex confirms, giving me a little shake as he squeezes me.

I can’t help it, I blush in front of my daughter.

Alex’s fingers brush my chin and suddenly he’s turning me to face him. He gives me a chaste, soft kiss on the lips right in front of my daughter, her coach, the peewee team, and a couple of teachers from the high school who came outside for coffee breaks on their planning period.

I stare at him wide-eyed and just work my mouth, unable to speak. My cheeks are burning so hot, I should be singeing the collar of my shirt. I crack a smile in spite of myself and try to be angry at him for embarrassing me like that, but I feel like I’m floating right off my seat and he’s holding me down.

“I have to get back to work.” He sighs. “Another twenty minutes.”

I laugh. “There’s no rush.”

After the kids are dismissed to go change, Alex meets us at the bottom of the bleachers. Carrie yawns loudly, and Alex scoops her up and carries her as easily as I did when she was a toddler. Swaying on his shoulder, her head droops just like it did when I used to carry her.

He lowers her into the front seat of the Tahoe and kisses my cheek.

“Follow you back to the house?”

I nod and pull out of my spot first. Alex follows me in his old car and pulls into the driveway next to me.

Once we’re inside, I fish one of the spare keys out of the junk drawer in the kitchen and tuck it in his huge hand.

“You should have a key,” I tell him.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“You’re staying tonight.”

It’s not a question.

“Yeah.”

He throws his arms around me.

I slip mine around him and squeeze hard, until I feel his heartbeat and his ribs expanding.

Can I do this? Can I let somebody else make me feel safe? For the last several years, I’ve had to rely on myself. I had to be the strong one, the one who gives out reassuring hugs. I blink my eyes when I realize my face is wet, that I’ve been crying into his shirt. I try to pull back, but he refuses to let me go.

“Why don’t you lie down while I make dinner? Get some rest.”

I turn to head upstairs, and he follows me. Alex turns on the ceiling fan over my bed and lays me down, smoothing my hair back from my face. I roll over on my side and curl up, and close my eyes. My arms and legs feel like they weigh a million pounds. It’s like I just noticed the weight, but it was always there.

I sleep.

Then I wake, to a the warm buttery smell of cooking dough. When I step into the kitchen, I find Alex and Carrie both wearing aprons and chef’s toques, slaving over the oven. A big pot pie sits in the oven, gravy bubbling up through the cuts in the crust.

“Where did you get those hats?”

“Alex had them,” Carrie tells me.

I shrug. Just go with it.

“Have a seat, we’ll serve.”

Alex carries out the pie while Carrie rushes behind him, carrying the side dishes on a tray. I feel almost dizzy. We’re having a family dinner. A real family dinner with no sniping, no weird arguments, no judging looks from my sister Hailey or strange comments from Grace.

It feels normal, but normal has always felt strange to me. I never thought I could be in a place like this, living a life like this.

“Mom?” Carrie asks. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m not, I have something in my eye.”

I swipe at my cheeks and Alex grins at me.

Good God, the food is good. He really is talented at this. I eat more tonight than I have in a week, until I’m too stuffed to do anything but walk out to the couch and flop.

Alex does the dishes with Carrie and they both join me, seated on either side with me in the middle. Alex rests his big arm around my shoulders and I settle into his side.

I don’t even care what they watch, I feel so warm and whole like this.

When Carrie is starting to droop, I get up and lead her upstairs. Alex isn’t far behind, sensing I’m going to drop soon myself.

When we’re in my room, he steps up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist, dipping to kiss my shoulder.

“I’m tired,” I complain.

“I’ll do all the work.”

I yelp as he picks me up off the flood and dumps me on the bed, giggling as I thrash in playful mock-struggle. He yanks my jeans and underwear down and throws them aside, then unbuttons my shirt as I pull at his hands.

He yanks it open and his hands skim up my stomach to cup my breasts, and I go still and quiet, afraid if I make too much noise I’ll have to explain to my daughter what all the racket was. Lying just about naked on the bed, I can’t slow my breath or my heartbeat.

Alex stands and strips, slowly. He starts by undoing his belt, theatrically using both hands. I watch him work, licking my lips, fingering the sheets under my palms as heat spreads between my legs. When he slides off his belt, his pants sag. I can see them almost hanging on his hard cock. He then pulls off his shirt, revealing his chiseled stomach, then his massive chest and broads shoulders as he yanks it over his head and throws it aside. His pants fall to his ankles and he steps out of them.

He’s enormous. All of him. I shrug out of my shirt and crawl to the edge of the bed, grab his hips, and lean on him, kneeling. I need to taste him. He shudders as I flick his nipple with my tongue, kiss his chest, lick his stomach, working my way down.

I scoot forward and drop my butt to sit on the edge of the bed, holding his cock in my hands. I don’t have much of a chest but I squeeze my breasts together with my arms and rub his hot, hard cock between them. From the way he shudders and puts his hand on my shoulders, he likes that.

Gingerly, Alex uses his big fingers to brush my loose hair out of my face. Then he lightly grips the back of my neck with one hand and his shaft with the other and pushes his cock into my mouth. A thrill shoots through my body, like a splash of cold water as my mouth fills with the taste of his sweat and skin. I like the way he doesn’t wait for me to suck him. His hand falls away, but he still holds me by the back of my neck, gently rocking his hips to pull and push his cock through my lips and over my tongue.

I close my eyes and lean in, taking him deeper. He shudders in a full body convulsion and his hand tightens for just a moment on the back of my neck as his thick member pushes down my throat. I grasp his hips and pull as I lean into it, my breath burning in my chest. I want to cough and gag but I don’t stop until I open my eyes and feel his stomach against my nose, his hot hard balls against my chin.

I draw back slowly, suck in as much air as I can, and do it again.

“Holy shit,” he groans.

When I take him as deeply, just for a moment, he holds me close and pumps his hips, fucking my throat. It feels incredible. I hug his legs until I can’t stand it and wriggle loose, coughing a little as I struggle to breath.

I’m so horny, I can’t stand it. I don’t have to stand it. He grabs my arms and twists me around to flop on my stomach on the edge of the bed, with my legs hanging over, down. I go limp as he thrusts his finger inside me and pumps, gently stroking my already wet pussy to prepare me for his much thicker cock.

He keep his finger in my body while he bends forward and puts his lips on the small of my back. He kisses in a hot slick line up the middle of my back, stopping between my shoulder blades to go back down my body with agonizing slowness.

My head shoots up from the bed as his mouth and tongue caress the curve of my body just above my ass, and then I feel his tongue on my butt.

“What are you--”

“Quiet,” he growls.

He punctuates the command with a sharp slap to my ass. I jerk, my body convulsing around his finger. I want his cock, I need him inside me. I grind back against him, but he pull his hand back, refusing to do more than tease me. Then he pins me down with his hand on my back and quickly pumps his finger inside me until I moan, only to slowly pull it back and forth again, stroking me.

“Stay still and be quiet,” he whispers.

He nods and then I feel his mouth on me again, on my ass, working towards the middle, toward…

He kisses me between my cheeks. I whimper at the feeling, the wetness and heat of his tongue. A second big thick finger enters my pussy as he begins to tongue my ass, threatening to enter me there too. I tense and arch on the bed and let out a little
ah
sound.

I hear a pop as he licks his finger on his other hand, and groan as it slowly enters my ass. He moves both hands together, and the sensation is so intense, it makes my eyes tear up and sweat pop on my back. I’m suddenly cold all over, my legs twitching.

He pulls his fingers out of my body, puts his hand on my back, and grasps his cock, guiding it inside me. I flinch as he enters. It’s so much bigger and thicker than even two of his fingers. I shudder on the bed, the strain of my body opening for his shocking size too much for me to handle and lie still.

He puts both hands on my hips and pulls me into him, burying himself to the root and stands to his full height.

In the mirror, I see myself lying on the bed, flushed and sweaty, and glimpse his thick shaft, wet with my desire, sliding in and out of my body. The craving grows inside me as I watch. I know these slow deep strokes are only the warm up and he’s going to fuck the hell out of me when he feels like I’m nice and open and ready for him.

I like to watch. I like to watch the power in him, the flexing of his huge muscles, how much
bigger
he is. He looks over, and grins in the mirror.

“You like watching.”

I nod.

“I like looking down and seeing my cock fill you.”

He thrusts into me harder, and I round my back and squirm under his hand as the pressure fills my body. It feels so good.

I gasp as his hand skims from my hip and over my ass. He slaps my backside hard, and I jerk as my muscles tighten around him.

“Fuck,” he growls, softly.

Before I can answer him, he twists my hair into a ponytail in his hand and pulls, arching me back toward him. The sensation floods my body. I feel the tug on my scalp but it’s more than that, I feel held…
controlled.
Owned.

He pushes his thumb in my ass as he fucks me, and I flinch and quiver around him. My feet rise from dangling off the bed and caress his thighs as he takes his pleasure from my body, rougher with each stroke. He goes from tugging my hair to gripping the back of my neck.