Calendar Girl (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-five

‘I’
M JUST BESIDE MYSELF
,’ Trudy MacDonald said.

I stared at the mountain of stuff and repressed a shudder. I had never actually dealt with a job where the stuff nearly reached the ceiling. But this room did. A precarious mountain of stuff came only a foot or two shy of the ceiling in some spots. ‘It will be OK,’ I said to Trudy.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure. I mean, seriously, it was just packed. Michelle’s upkeep appointment had gone wonderfully. She was doing so well that I couldn’t help but hug her. Hoarding can take over a life again in seconds even after a full clean-out. To see her clothes neat and her shoes organised and her kitchen well maintained had made my heart soar. Dr Calibri had been smiling so wide you’d have thought Michelle was his daughter. Now this.

The good news was it was mainly new stuff. Boots and shoes in boxes. Clothes on racks and hangers. Big ticket items still in boxes from shipping. That was a blessing. No cat litter, dead critters, trash or weather-damaged mementos. Just shopping conquests and a whole lot of emotion.

‘Really?’ she asked, staring. She didn’t believe me.

‘Yes,’ I said. And it would. But it was not going to be easy. ‘But while we start this, let me ask you, did you make your list?’

‘I did.’

‘Good. So we’ll go over that as we work.’ I steeled myself and then we designated sections in the hall for keep, donation and sell. There would be no trash, or very little, as most of this stuff was brand spanking new. I bent to lay out a blanket to designate sell and my hair fell across my face. The light from the hall caught my hair and highlighted the colour. I heard Penn’s sultry voice in my head.
The colour of a fawn ... 
I smiled.

Thinking of our night together would help me get through the jigsaw puzzle of a room. We started piling newer items in the sell pile. ‘What do you miss?’ I asked softly.

‘Jim. I miss my husband. When we met, we were together all the time. We had no money but we had each other.’

She took a knee-high pair of black leather boots from a box to examine them. I’m pretty sure I started to drool. ‘And now?’

‘You like these?’ she waved them around.

‘Sure, they’re really cute.’
I’d kill for them cute
. ‘And now?’ I prompted again.

‘Now the business we tried to build together is off the ground. He runs it morning, noon and night. I stay here. What size are you?’

Well shit, that was easy.
‘Nine, nine and a half. Once in a blue moon, ten, but I’m tall. So do you think that maybe, just maybe, you’re trying to fill the void of time with Jim and also maybe, just possibly, passive aggressively trying to get his attention with all the ...’ I waved my hand at the packed room, ‘buying?’

She turned to stare, turned back to me. ‘Hmm. I think that’s pretty much it. Try these on.’ She tossed me one of the boots and I ran my fingers lovingly over the buttery leather before I finally managed, ‘Oh, I couldn’t. It’s not really allowed.’

‘By who? By you? Look, you’re saving my bacon. Just try them on. Humour me.’

I slipped my foot into the soft leather and felt it seat in the foot of the boot. Perfect. A perfect fit. They hit about mid calf and had two small silver buckles over the body of the boot. Fabulosity. ‘Nice but I–’

‘Here. Catch. Do it.’ Trudy tossed me the other and I sighed. I shucked my sandal and put the boot on. High enough to be smoking hot, low enough that I wouldn’t fall down. Soft and real and classy but edgy. The perfect boots. And I, well little old me could never afford them but in my dreams and fantasies.

‘Nice,’ Trudy said and whistled. She waved her hand, a diamond ring glinting at me. ‘They’re yours.’

‘No!’ I yelped, though my pulse pounded like I was being ravished by the most handsome of men.
Penn. Penn. Penn.
‘I really can’t.’

‘Sure you can. Call it a bonus. A
Jesus Christ how did this happen I have to help her
bonus,’ she said and pointed to the insanely crowded room. ‘I’m your boss. Do as I say.’

‘Aw, Trudy, I really–’ She frowned at me. ‘I shouldn’t, really.’

‘But you will or you’re fired,’ she said and turned to a box that held red high heels. ‘Sell,’ she said and handed me the box. I was dismissed as far as argument went. I put the heels on the sell blanket and put my brand new boots in the box. It was June. Was it too late in the season to wear my boots out tonight?

We made progress. If you call a whole blanket filled for each category progress. I’d have to return another day. In the meantime Trudy was going to continue sorting. Her husband Jim helped me load the donation items into my car. I’d offered to take them to the shelter.

‘I don’t know what’s up with that woman,’ he said. ‘I mean, now we don’t have this kind of money. Not in this economy. But we did at one point. It really was no big deal, she could buy anything she liked but look at it. Tags and boxes and never touched. Why buy it?’ He blew out an exasperated sigh. He’d told me he knew his way around the internet sale sites and I recommended taking some of the items to local high price thrift stores. Some of the money would be recouped.

‘She misses you,’ I said simply, pushing the door to my SUV down so it thunked. The warm breeze lifted my hair and I turned my face to it. It felt good to be outside after being in the clutter and chaos all day.

‘Me? What do you mean she misses me?’ he asked. ‘We live together.’ He smiled.

‘She said once upon a time you’d been poor but happy. Together all the time. Now you have money, or are, you know, OK financially but you’re absent a lot. Running the business.’

‘She used to help with reception but then we started making money and I wanted her to have her time to do whatever. She liked keeping up the home and decorating. We only had one daughter and boy did she grow fast, but she did volunteer work and had lunch with girlfriends when she left for college and ...’ he petered off. A cloud blew over the sun but quickly cleared.

‘And shopped?’

‘Yes, and shopped. Damn.’

‘She said you guys built it up and now you work it all the time and she doesn’t.’

‘Are you telling me that I should have kept my wife on as a receptionist even when we became successful?’ he asked, incredulous. ‘I thought I was giving her this great gift. Leisure. No need to work.’

‘We all need purpose, ‘I said.

Jim MacDonald looked so stricken my heart broke for him a bit. I touched his arm. ‘Hey, her mother moving in, being useful and needed will probably be a huge help to her. It’ll help the whole situation believe it or not. Often it’s very stressful, and it still might be, but it might help her feel like she’s important.’

‘She is important. I do need her,’ he said.

‘I know. But you have to remind her. I just thought you should know what she said. It will work out. I promise. And I’m no shrink, but it’s important that you know.’

‘I know. Thanks. And thanks for helping her.’

‘Hey, she gave me these boots and I really, really feel super bad about taking them. Maybe if I give them to you, you can–’

‘If she gave them to you, Merritt, keep them. You deserve a pair of boots. Hell, you can keep every damn thing in your trunk as far as I’m concerned.’

I smiled. ‘Thanks but I think the ladies at the shelter will put them to good use. They really can use them. One nice outfit for a job interview can change an entire life.’

He nodded. ‘Good. See you soon?’

‘I’ll be back to re-evaluate and we’ll figure out how to get the room together and what we need to do as far as organising it.’

I drove the boxes of stuff to the Sunrise Women’s Shelter and pulled around back. Herbert, the intake director came out with his clipboard. ‘You again, Miss Merritt? Do you get everyone to donate to us?’ He grinned. He was missing three teeth and his smile could lift any heart.

‘Anyone I can beg, borrow or steal from,’ I said. ‘Help me with these bags?’

‘Surely, surely. Hell, girl, you even have the drag queens donating. We got boxes and boxes of some of the biggest high heels I’ve ever seen a few weeks back. And dresses that would stop your heart they’re so bright. But still. We put them to good use.’

I laughed and passed some bags up to him and he put them in the back of the shelter. ‘Sorry they’re so big,’ I said.

He leaned down to me and whispered, ‘It’s OK, no worries. We have some big women here, but don’t say I said.’

‘Your secret is safe with me,’ I laughed.

I tossed the final three boxes onto the platform. ‘Tax form?’ he asked, waving the clipboard at me.

Jim and Trudy had said they didn’t need one so I shook my head. ‘Nope. All good. I might be back next week. I’ve got a few jobs going on.’

‘You ever going to tell me why you love us so much, girl?’

‘It’s a good cause is all,’ I said.

I waved again and headed home to get ready. I wanted a stunning outfit and The Drunken Flamingo and a big, big, big drink. When I turned left onto Callad Road from the shelter, I said a little prayer for Jeffrey’s mother. She was beaten to death when Jeffrey and I were in high school. Her abusive boyfriend was still in jail. I hoped he stayed there too.

Hmm. I was thinking swingy black jersey capris, red espadrilles and a red high necked swing top. I’d put my long hair in two loose ponytails secured low down with red elastics. Cute. The phone rang and I didn’t check. I assumed it was Jeffrey calling as usual to make sure I knew I was to be ‘fabulous’. I knew! I knew!

‘Yes, I am fabulous,’ I said.

‘Oh, I know it goldilocks,’ Matthew said.

All the jokes I said by rote died in my throat and guilt flooded me. ‘Hi, there, you!’ I said.

‘Can we get together tonight, girlie? I’ve missed you. I know it’s only been a day but I got used to you pretty fast.’

More guilt. Horrible, horrible, horrible tainted black shiny guilt. I swallowed hard. ‘Um. I really can’t, I’m so sorry. I signed in to be with a friend tonight. He’s going through some stuff and I wanted to be there for him.’

So I was talking about Jack and the stuff was being gay and with Jeffrey and the being there for him was being at the Flamingo drinking. But still, I technically had not lied. At all.

Silence from Matthew and then a sigh. ‘I got ya. Sure. Maybe tomorrow night?’

‘Maybe,’ I said. Maybe was a true statement. Maybe I would get together with him tomorrow and explain my sudden and all encompassing insanity. My obsession and attraction to Penn Fratila. I would be open and honest and ah, shit, it would suck. ‘I’m sorry. I meant to call but the day got away from me. I had that new job and then I stopped at the women’s shelter with a donation. It’s been crazy,’ I babbled, feeling like a heel.

‘You’re a good person, Merritt. I can wait one more day.’

Argh! Damn, damn and double damn. ‘Thanks,’ I sighed and finally hung up.

The phone rang again.
Now
it would be Jeffrey. A day late and a dollar short. ‘Yes, I am fabulous,’ I said into the phone, but with a little less oomph this time.

‘Yes, I know, but why do you sound glum?’ Penn Fratila said. Ugh! Again, with not checking the read out. But I laughed.

‘Wow. Thanks. I just had a bit of a day. Nothing a little dancing and a drink at the Flamingo won’t cure,’ I said. I flopped onto the sofa. I had an hour before Jeffrey and Jack expected me.

‘The Flamingo?’

I explained quickly, examining my red wedge, admiring his sexy voice, having X-rated flashes of our phone sex until my cheeks matched my shoes.

‘That sounds very interesting,’ Penn said. ‘What are you wearing?’

‘Oh, naughty question,’ I teased, but I described it. ‘I just wish it was cooler, my new client gave me the fiercest boots today.’

‘Why can’t you wear them?’

‘Too warm,’ I sighed. ‘And what would I wear. Long walking shorts and tall black boots? I mean, hell, it would look insanely hot, but I can’t carry that off.’

‘Oh, I’m pretty sure you could carry off insanely hot.’

I smiled. ‘Still, I can’t.’

‘You can and you will. That’s an order. Wear those boots for me. I want a picture when I come back to the States.’

I stared at the phone a little confused but a lot turned on out of the blue. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes, I am. And can I ask one more thing?’

My heart was still racing from the whole
that’s an order ... 
‘Um, sure. Shoot.’

‘Are you meeting your current beau there?’

‘I wouldn’t call him a ... well, no, just the boys. Why?’

He cleared his throat and anticipation laced with a bit of unease sizzled up my spine and I shivered involuntarily. ‘This current man, I want you to have him out of your system by the time I get back. Can you do that for me?’

‘I ... um,’ I was so caught off-guard my tongue wouldn’t work.

Before I could finish he cut in. ‘All I ask is a clean slate. Me and you. No other men. If you go out with me and find I am not sufficient, then it’s whatever you like. But for the beginning. Me and you. All other men off the board, so to speak.’

‘I can do that,’ I breathed. I didn’t know which was more intense, the voice with which he made the request or the insinuation that I was free to do what I liked until his return, no questions asked. I’d never met a man secure enough in himself to ask anything other than total commitment instantly. Penn Fratila was a rarity. A hot, sexy, smooth talking, studly rarity.

‘Good. I just wanted to check in. Say hello and that I’ve been thinking about you all day.’

I looked at the clock. Six o’clock. One for him. ‘Aren’t you tired?’ I asked.

‘Yes, I am tired. My Great Aunt Corrina ran me ragged today since I am leaving soon,’ he chuckled. Favourite eateries, relatives I haven’t seen since I was two, women she thought would make me stay in the country since I’d be so smitten.

I felt a stab of jealousy, fast, fierce and red as blood but laughed obligingly. ‘Wow. Well, good night, then, Penn. Sweet dreams,’ I said and meant it.

‘They will be,’ he said. ‘They’ll be of you, Miss Merritt.’ We said one more soft goodbye and he hung up.

I went to change.

Chapter Twenty-six

‘W
ELL
,
HELLO
, D
AISY
D
UKE
,’ Jeffrey said and twirled me. I’d had one Sea Breeze and 14 Maraschino cherries from Cherry the bartender. ‘Where did you get the shit kickers, love?’ Being Jeffrey he bent down and caressed my boot like a lover.

‘A client,’ I said and jokingly pulled my foot away. ‘Don’t molest the footwear, sir.’

Jeffrey was decked out in a Country Western ensemble and a strawberry blonde wig. ‘I can use you tonight,’ he said.

‘What?’ That old familiar feeling of trepidation fell on me. ‘No way, no how. Never ever again,’ I laughed.

Jeffrey pulled my pigtail and then here came Jack. He too was dressed to the nines in a sequined western top complete with satin fringe, skin tight jeans, boots and
the biggest
falsies I have ever set eyes on. His wig was big and platinum. Almost as big as his tits. Dolly. No doubt. ‘Miss Parton,’ I said.

‘Sissy. Nice boots,’ he whistled.

‘Thanks. Is it country western night?’ I laughed, sipping my drink.

‘
Your Cheating Heart
,’ Jeffrey said. For a moment that guilt slammed me again and I put my head down. Then he went on, ‘I really do manage Patsy Cline well for a girl of chocolate persuasion.’

Duh. He’d been naming his song and not accusing me. I really had to fucking get myself together.

‘And you?’ I asked Jack.

‘I am doing
Working 9 To 5
. What a way to make a living,’ he sighed, putting his hand to his forehead in the most dramatic of gestures.

I laughed. ‘Got it. I am here to drink and observe. Ready to unwind,’ I said and meant it.

‘So, watchoo been up to today, girly?’

‘Working. Went to the shelter and dropped off a huge donation from a client.’

Jeffrey stopped for a moment and then gave me his dazzling drag queen smile. ‘Gotta go get ready! I’m next,’ he said and kissed me.

Off he went.

‘He never talks about it,’ Jack said. Jack and Jeffrey’s friendship through me preceded the recent love affair.

‘I know. But I also know who’s donating tons of size 13 pumps and extra large evening gowns too.’

‘And money,’ Jack said.

I looked at him. ‘Almost all the money from the fake psychic work. I sort of ...’

‘Yes,’ I prompted.

‘Peeked when he left his chequebook out.’

‘It’s all good,’ I said. ‘Go on back and help him out.’

Jack kissed me and disappeared.

The next thing I knew the beginning strains of Patsy Cline began and the whole joint was whooping and hollering. When Jeffrey took stage in his big flamboyant eyelashes and his sparkly makeup and rhinestones, the queens went mad. I sang along, tapping my foot along, grinning. Only a few naughty thoughts of Penn Fratila infiltrating my down-time mindset. Bubbles sauntered up to me. Tonight Bubbles was festive in lime green chiffon and huge chandelier earrings. Her heels were four inch Lucite platforms with fake wedges of lime, lemon and orange suspended in the heel.

‘You look refreshing,’ I said and kissed her on her cheek. Only a hint of stubble bit at me. She patted my hand. ‘She is a vision, isn’t she? Cloville does good Patsy.’

‘How’s Simka been doing?’ I asked.

‘Good! Really good! She’s barely ever in the cage any more. She’s doing a show most nights and they’ve really taken to her. Simka Deville was the name she’s chosen and it seems to fit. She really is a little firecracker. A demon of a dancer too.’

Deville. Go figure. I laughed. ‘He always did bring a bit of hellfire to the house, Jack did.’ I smiled and Jeffrey wrapped up his set with a dramatic bow.

I wolf-whistled the way Jack taught me when I was seven. I always managed to fuck it up and get more spit on myself than noise out of my mouth, but screw it. It was fun. ‘Go Patsy! You go, girl!’

Bubbles laughed and tipped a finger at Cherry Fondue behind the bar. ‘Cherry girl, give Merritt another drink. On me, darling. She is possibly the best sister to grace our humble bar.’

‘Aw,’ I leaned in and kissed Bubbles on her cheek again and thanked Cherry when she set my drink in front of me. Cherry was six three out of heels, so she was six six behind the bar. Her dress was white like a barmaid, her apron red with cherries all over. Her hair was the red you see in a crayon box and her lips matched. Big green eyes and earrings like her namesake. Cherries hung from her big lobes and she wore a necklace that bore her moniker in gold. She was stunning.

Next came my brother in his female form. Belting out Dolly and working everyone up. I grinned the whole time. I couldn’t have been prouder if he’d won Miss America. I gave another sloppy wolf whistle when he finished and when he bowed he held his Dolly wig on good and tight. His falsies barely moved. He had those puppies strapped for war.

‘So this is where you are?’

I turned and found myself face to face with Matthew. Handsome, sweet, hair fetish, oblivious Matthew. ‘How did you–’

‘You were all together the night we met, remember? The girls told me where they worked that night. I thought I’d come check it out. Didn’t figure you’d be here.’ He ordered a beer from the bar, extra lime and turned to the show.

‘Year. My friend Jeffrey – aka Cloville Yum-Yum – was the ... well, yeah. Here I am!’ I said, my voice high like I was nervous. Because I was!

‘I hope you don’t think I was checking up on you,’ Matthew said over the din. ‘I mean, I hope you don’t think that–’

‘No, no!’ I had seen the real surprise in his face when he found me and I heard the real worry in his voice now. Matthew was a lot of things, handsome, nice, sexy, but he wasn’t a stalker dude. ‘I totally do not think that.’

‘Sweet boots,’ he said. ‘In fact, I am digging the whole good girl in dirty dress thing.’ He leaned in, kissed my bare shoulder and then my neck.

My body responded immediately. My nipples pressed my lace bra and my panties grew damp in the space of a few heartbeats.
This current man, I want you to have him out of your system by the time I get back ...

‘You don’t think it’s too much?’ I practically gasped.

‘Nah. The longer denim shorts take the slut factor away from the knee high boots on bare legs,’ he said. ‘Not that I’m a fashion guru by any means.’

I snorted. ‘Maybe not, but you are right.’

‘Hey, I try,’ he said. ‘And on top of it, Merritt, you are at a drag bar. It’s not as if understated is required. Hell, it’s not as if it’s even expected.’

I laughed and sipped my drink. Cherry Fondue raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow at me. Then he looked pointedly at Matthew then at me and fanned himself like he was menopausal.

‘True story,’ I said. I chewed my cocktail straw. I had smoked briefly in college, mainly during finals and nights out drinking. Which turned out to be most of the time. But I stopped when I graduated. And I’d never gone back. Right now I would have given a bazillion dollars for a cigarette.

Matthew leaned in and his chest pressed my arm. He put his lips in my hair and kissed me. ‘So I really missed seeing you last night. Your friend, is he OK now? Can we maybe get out of here after this set? Spend some time together?’ His jeans brushed my bare thigh and I felt his hard cock right there, waiting for me.

And despite my feelings, that very much confused me, by the way, for Penn, I wanted it. I wanted him again. I wanted to fuck him one more time and get him out of my system. Maybe to get the last six months of intoxicating but dizzying chaos out of my system. And then I could figure out what Penn Fratila really meant to me.

‘Sure. I think he’s good. Let’s go.’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, now.’
Before I change my mind.

I took his hand and said to Cherry. ‘Tell the boys I’ll call them. And tell them they were to die for.’

He nodded, winked, looked at Matthew and gave me two thumbs up like I’d scored a winning goal in hockey. ‘No prob.’

There we were in my foyer again. This seemed to be our place, Matthew and me. Only now my ass was pressed to the foyer table, my long denim cut offs on the floor. Matthew pushed his condom-sheathed cock to my pussy and teased me. Testing me by putting only the head in, pulling out, running the slick cap of his hard-on along the wet slit of my cunt. I pulled at him, but he was stronger than me and he only laughed.

‘Patience is a virtue,’ Matthew said.

‘I’m not very virtuous,’ I said, honestly.

More soft laughter. I pulled at him with all of me, my hands, my legs, I leaned in to kiss him. Willing him to come to me – kiss me, enter me, fuck me.

‘Matthew, come on!’ I said. But again he made me wait, sliding his cock along my inner thighs so I jostled on the table like a bird on a wire.

‘For some reason I feel like I need to savour this,’ he said. His big light eyes finding mine and staring at me as he slipped into my body slowly. Slow enough to make me hold my breath. Slow enough that my heart pounded in my chest so hard I could see it under my red blouse. ‘Let me savour it, Merritt.’

I nodded. Did he know? Did he know that I was pretty sure this was it? We were done? Did this man sense it in me? It broke my heart a little, but the feel of him in me was too intense to think about all of that. All I could think of was how my body felt, crushed to his, open for his, taking his cock deep.

Matthew buried his face in my hair. His hands grabbed at my bottom, pulling me flush to him so he could rock into me with a rhythm that stole my breath away. ‘Right there,’ I managed.

He held me still, big palms pinning me to the red wooden table. My elbow banged the mail tray and it slid to the floor with a clatter. Neither of us laughed or even reacted. I spread my thighs wider for him, pulled at him, leaned in to him when he inhaled deeply. My hair smelled like lilacs and lemons. Even I could smell it. ‘Right there?’ he whispered, slamming into me faster, deeper still. Angling my hips just so, so that the pressure of his thrusts stimulated my clit with a sublime pressure.

A building pressure and need filled my womb and I leaned my head forward toward him even as I angled up to meet him. He grabbed my long ponytails and fucked me so that my ass slipped along the wood. He yanked me forward before I could slide back too far. Matthew’s mouth came down to find my bottom lip, nibbled. My shoulder, my collar bone, my nipple. He bit me there, slipping his tongue along that rosy flesh before clamping it between his teeth so that the pain resonated to my pussy like a lightning strike.

‘Oh, fuck.’ I came. Hard and fast, my body milking him until he caught the tip of one of my pigtails in his lips and tugged my hair so that it bit into my scalp. Matthew came, my hair firmly gripped between his white teeth, his strong fingers biting into my skin.

I panted, laid my head against the wall while the little flickers and twitters of orgasm worked through my pussy. He was still in me, filling me with a warm sexual presence. ‘Wine?’ I asked.

‘You betcha.’

We staggered, flushed and sated, into the kitchen and I poured out two glasses of Syrah while he built a cheese and meat platter from my recently purchased Italian cold cuts.

‘You Italian?’

I laughed. ‘Nope. But one of my best friends is. Her grandmother taught me, growing up, the importance of keeping nice meats and cheeses on hand.’

‘Good woman,’ he groaned rolling some salami with some Provolone and shoving it into his mouth. ‘Good, wise, wonderful woman,’ he groaned and popped a pepperocini into his mouth. We went to the sofa and I curled up against him. His jovial, warm, sexy presence made me happy. I could feel guilty tomorrow.

We talked of the day and the reality show he found, the gaudy housewives with the huge problems of spending money or more money. We talked of Italian meats, drag queens, the best way to bread and fry rockfish and who would have the cheapest prices on bushels of crabs this summer. We talked. And we ate. And when I laid my head in his lap to watch the evening news and I felt his cock hard and ready all over again, I unzipped his fly and took him in my mouth.

‘Merritt ...’ Then he hissed. ‘You don’t have to ...’ Then he groaned.

‘Oh, but I want to,’ I said, my lips around his cock. I pulled back and tickled the head of his cock with the tips of my pigtails. He grew harder still in my hand and I smiled. He really did dig hair. ‘I like how hard you are. It turns me on,’ I said.

He pulled the bands from my hair and it fell around my face, crimped into waves from the elastic near the bottom. I brushed the hair around his lap and he thrust up into the soft tangle of my hair. ‘Merritt, Jesus, you’re driving me crazy.’ I cupped his balls and lowered my mouth to him again. My face lost behind a curtain of long brown waves.

‘Good, that’s the point.’ Then I was silent, working him with my mouth. Licking him, sucking. I stuck my middle finger in my mouth and wetted it and then I softly, gently, waiting for his body to give me permission, worked my finger into his ass. He let me, pressing down to meet me, making my entry easier. I pressed the pliant marble of his prostate with my finger and his cock jerked in my mouth.

Matthew put his hands gently on the back of my head, his fingers tracking in the fall of my hair. He held me there as he drove up to fuck my mouth in almost tender thrusts. ‘I’m not going to last long, baby. I’m not.’

‘It’s OK,’ I said. I sucked him harder, licking along the ridge of his tip. I lapped at the small glistening button of precome and smiled at how ready he was to go. ‘Come for me. Come in my hair, Matthew.’

Now he groaned like a dying man. But one dying of the most wonderful thing. One ready to greet heaven and feel the fleeting bliss of letting go. ‘Holy ...’ Then his words were lost again and he was a thrusting mad man, trying to bury himself in my throat until that precise moment where he breathed, ‘Now. God, Merritt, now.’

I pulled him free of my lips, working him with my hand, my fist a cupping, grasping blur. His soft flesh warming my palm. And he went. Coming hard in long pearlescent spurts that dotted my hair like small gems. Like rain drops. Like snowflakes. I wrapped his cock in my sticky locks and he continued to spasm, crying out, his hands on my back, my shoulder, my neck.