Crazy About the Baumgartners (11 page)

He
changed lenses part way through and I knew he was taking up close photos. I
held still and let him circle me, hearing his breath quicken.

“Fuck,
Gretchen.” He swallowed, and I looked at him crouched between my legs, taking
pictures of my pussy. “You have the sweetest pussy. Look at that little bit of
blonde hair on top. God… open it for me. Spread it.”

I
did, using my fingers to part my lips. He took more pictures, moaning the whole
time like he was being tortured. 

“So
you can’t touch me,” I mused, watching him maneuver between my thighs. “But
that doesn’t mean I can’t. Does it?”

He
swallowed. “No.”

I
circled my clit with my finger, shivering. I was so fucking hot. The heat of
the sun was making me sweat but my pussy was on fire. I had to come. And I
wanted him to watch me. Doc had forgotten the camera. He knelt between my legs,
focused on my fingers moving back and forth, around and around. My nipples were
so hard and I wished he could suck them. I could see his cock tenting his suit
and it made my mouth water.

“You
can’t touch me?” I asked the question, pleading. He shook his head, his
expression pained. “Well… can you touch yourself?”

He
sighed, shaking his head.

“Technically
speaking… probably shouldn’t.” He glanced at the house, then back at me,
moaning when my fingers slipped into my pussy. “But fuck it.”

He
yanked his boxers down and grabbed his cock in his fist. The sight of it made
me gasp, the way he handled himself, so rough, pumping it fast as he watched me
touch myself.

“You’re
so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, his breath coming faster.

“Oh
Doc, I want your cock,” I moaned, pushing my hips up, offering my pussy. “You
can put it anywhere you want. Anywhere.”

He
groaned, shaking his head. “Just keep doing that. Finger yourself. Jesus, girl.
That’s so fucking hot.”

“Oh
but I want you,” I pleaded. My clit throbbed, my pussy clenching, wanting to be
filled.

“I
want you too,” he panted, jerking his cock faster, balls swinging. God, I
wanted to taste him, lick all that saltiness from his scrotum, let him fuck my
throat. It was driving me crazy, having him so close, but not having him.

“Oh
Doc, please, please, fuck me.” I begged him. “Just…put your cock in me when you
come. Please. Just… oh… fuck… please!”

“Ahhhh
God, Gretchen, I want you so fucking bad.” He gave a low, frustrated groan,
looking at my pussy like a drowning man.

“Just
rub it up and down my slit,” I whimpered. “Just once. Just… oh… please…”

He
growled and thrust closer, but his cock didn’t touch my pussy. I rubbed my clit
faster, a brutal assault, my thighs quivering with need. I felt my orgasm
coming, something thick and coiled in my belly, waiting to spring. Doc stopped
to lick his palm, making his cock wet, and I knew he was imagining what it
would feel like to fuck my wet little pussy instead of his own fist.

“I’m
gonna come,” I panted, meeting his eyes, a halo around his head from the sun.
“Oh Doc, I’m going to come for you.”

“Yes!”
he cried, pumping his cock so fast his hand was a blur. “Oh Gretchen, come for
me, sweetheart. Make yourself come for me!”

“Only
if you come first.” My fingers slowed, oh God, it was so hard to stop, so hard
to hold it back. I clenched my ass as if I could keep my orgasm in. I was so
very close. “Come with me, Doc. I want your cum. Give me that. Come all over my
pussy!”

He
gave a low, pained groan, thrusting once, twice, three times into his tightly
closed fist, his cock erupting with hot, white jets of cum. The first stream
overshot my pussy. It overshot my stomach and my tits. His cum sprayed my
cheek, splashing my lips, and I gasped, reaching my tongue out and tasting him.

Doc
moaned again, another flood of cum exploding from the head of his cock, this
one not quite as strong. He left another ropey white stream over my belly, and
the last, glorious burst was right against my pulsing little clit. Just the
heat and pressure of it made me come—I didn’t even need my fingers,
although I used them, rubbing his cum into my pussy, my hips lunging upward, my
pussy squeezing down violently against nothing, again and again, aching with the
empty throb. 

He
sat back on his heels, dazed, panting, as I cleaned myself off. I scooped up
every bit of his cum, licking my fingers and hands clean while he watched,
looking like a starving man chained just out of reach at a banquet. 

When
we were dressed again—which we did in silence—and sitting in the
sand, facing the waves rolling in on the beach, I finally decided to just ask.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to know. Ronnie had planted a seed of doubt
in my head that had been growing weed-like in my brain, as much as I tried to
ignore it.

 “Doc,
I want you so much.” My voice was soft as I used a stick to trace patterns in
the sand. “You and her too. Why can’t it be me?”

“What
do you mean?” he asked, although I was sure he knew. He had to know.

“Why
can’t I be like…” I swallowed. “Like Ronnie. Like Dani.”

He
sighed but didn’t say anything. He just looked out at the water.

“It
couldn’t be more perfect,” I insisted. “I mean, I live with you!”

“That’s
part of the problem,” he said finally.

“What
do you mean?”

“Gretchen,
it’s not about you.” He looked over at me, shaking his head. “It’s really not.
You’re young and beautiful and desirable. Very, very desirable. And we love
you. We do. Very much. You’re like a part of the family—”

“But!”
I interrupted, snapping at him, although I didn’t mean to. “I can hear the
‘but’ already. But what? But I’m not good enough to be your lover?”

“No.”
He reached over to touch my shoulder. Just that made my knees turn to water.
“That’s not it…”

“Never
mind. It doesn’t matter.”

I
walked on my wobbly knees down the beach. I didn’t go in the direction of the
house. I went the other way instead, looking at the sun on the water, poking at
the sand, picking up seashells, trying to lose myself in the journey, let it
carry me away. By the time I got back to the house, dark skies had rolled in
and it was beginning to rain.

The
house was quiet. Janie and Henry were playing Go Fish, of all things, with an
old deck of cards at the kitchen table. Mrs. B was napping on the sofa with the
baby sleeping in the crook of her arm, the TV on but muted.

Upstairs,
I stripped out of my suit in the bathroom to take a long, hot, stinging shower.
Then I went across the hall to my room. I quickly towel dried my hair and put
on a pair of pajama bottoms and a white tank top. It wasn’t even dinner time,
but I didn’t feel like going back out again. Besides, the sound of thunder
rolling outside told me it was still raining, so we’d likely be stuck inside
for a while.

Then
Doc called to me from the room next door—the room he shared with Mrs. B.

“Come
here.” He crooked his finger at me from where he was sitting on the bed with
his laptop when I peeked my head inside the door.

I
went, like a petulant child.

“I’m
sorry.” He reached a hand out, stroking my wet hair, looking at the droplets of
water beading on my skin. “It’s complicated. I wish it wasn’t.”

I
just nodded, not saying anything.

 “I
thought you’d like to see.” Doc patted the bed beside him.

I
hesitated for a moment, climbing up and sitting next to him, leaning back on
the propped up pillows. I gasped when I saw what filled the screen.

My
own pussy. My clit, to be exact, the hood pulled back slightly, the pink skin
around it wrinkled, convoluted. The picture was so clear and sharp it was stunning.
You could see every little grain of sand sticking to my skin.

“Look.”
Doc pointed, touching my clit—on the screen—and I felt it throb
between my legs. Oh my God, I could have sworn he was stroking my clit, just
like he was doing to the image in front of us. “So fucking lickable.”

That
made me whimper and squeeze my thighs together. I leaned my head against his
arm as he flipped through each image. We both looked at them, silent. I went
from wearing my bikini to nude, the photos zooming in closer and closer. There
was a shot of my nipple, pink and pursed, that Doc paused at. He made a low
noise in his throat before moving on.

“I
just want you to know,” he said, when he minimized the last photo. “It’s taking
every ounce of self-restraint I have not to take you. Right here, right now.”

“What’s
that?” I pointed at the screen, looking for a distraction. There were
thumbnails at the bottom, and they weren’t pictures he’d taken on the beach.

“Oh,
those are some of the other pictures I’ve taken.” He clicked on another folder,
flipping through some of the other photos. Some were of Mrs. B—I
recognized her body, although I’m sure he didn’t think I could, since I wasn’t
ever supposed to have seen her naked. There were other women too. I even
recognized Dani and Mrs. B together, although I couldn’t see their faces.

“What
about that one? She looks…” I reached over, clicking the laptop mouse, bringing
the picture full screen before he could stop me.

I
gasped out loud, covering my mouth with both hands.

“You
weren’t supposed to see that.” He closed it quickly. Not just the photo, but
the laptop too.

“Doc!”
I exclaimed. “That was Mrs. Holmes!”

He
winced, nodding.

I
wasn’t supposed to know that the other woman I’d seen in the photograph was
Mrs. B either.

“She
was so young!” I whispered, staring at him.

“It
was in college,” he said. “That’s… that’s where we met her.”

“You…
and Maureen Holmes…” I was incredulous. “And Mrs. B?”

“Yes,”
he admitted, setting his laptop aside on the nightstand, turning to me to take
my hands.

“But
not me,” I whispered, looking down at my hands in his, lifting my gaze, meeting
his eyes. “Not me.”

“Gretchen!”
he called.

But
I couldn’t listen. I went into my room and shut the door, ignoring his knock.

I
curled up, pulling the covers up to my nose, wondering what in the world was
wrong with me. Because, clearly, it was something. The Baumgartners said they
loved me, but it wasn’t really true. They wanted me—I felt it, I knew I
wasn’t crazy—but they wouldn’t act on it. I didn’t understand. They’d
been with—my God, who
hadn’t
they been with? Dani, Ronnie, even
Maureen Holmes, who was the most fundamentally Christian, straight-laced woman
I’d ever known. She obviously hadn’t been on the straight and narrow in
college.

Doc
said it wasn’t about me, but it was. It had to be.

When
I heard the baby crying and Mrs. B called me, I got up and went downstairs,
because it was my job. I took Holly and made her a bottle, curling up on the
couch and feeding her while Mrs. B ordered a pizza. We were supposed to
barbeque steaks and hamburgers on the grill, but it was still storming.

Janie
and Henry decided on
The Princess Bride
, a family favorite, and we put
that into the DVD player and watched it while we ate pizza in the living room.
Mrs. B wanted the baby, so I handed her over, cleaning up paper plates, putting
the leftover pizza in the fridge. I did all of that on autopilot, just going
through the motions. Doc stopped me in the kitchen when I was cleaning up,
trying to explain, but I couldn’t listen. It hurt too much.

It
was still raining when bedtime rolled around. I got the kids into pajamas,
their teeth brushed, tucking them in at the end of the hall. The baby slept in
a Pack’n Play in my room and she was already out, sucking on her fist in her sleep.
I heard Mrs. B call my name as I headed down the hall to my room.

“Everyone
tucked in?” she asked.

“Safe
and sound.” I stuck my head in, seeing them sitting up in bed, watching TV.
“I’m going to turn in.”

“Goodnight,
Gretchen.”

I
went straight to bed. I just wanted to close my eyes and disappear. Maybe when
I woke up, this week would be over. Outside, rain pelted against the side of
the house. As bright and gorgeous as the day had been, tonight was just as
turbulent and dark. All of my hopes, even my expectations, about what would
happen with the Baumgartners, had blown away with the wind.

I
heard Doc and Mrs. B talking, their voices low. If I had to listen to them have
sex tonight, I was going to kill myself. I thought about going downstairs to sleep
on the sofa, as I listened in on their conversation. I had forgotten to shut my
door and theirs was slightly open, as usual.

“She
feels like it’s her fault.” That was Doc.

“Oh
Doc, no,” Mrs. B protested. “Did you tell her?”

“What
do you want me to say? ‘I’m sorry, Gretchen, we love you but we can’t be with
you because Carrie’s afraid we’ll lose the baby?’”

I
blinked, frowning at the wall.

“I
know you think I’m being stupid.” Mrs. B sighed.

“Not
stupid.” Doc chuckled. “A little overly cautious, maybe.”

“Once
she’s ours, Doc, I won’t worry so much,” she pleaded with him. “I just don’t
want anything to go wrong. If I lose this baby…”

“We’re
not going to lose Holly.” He sounded resolute.

“But…
we could.”

“Carrie,
anything could happen.” He sighed. “I could walk outside and get struck by
lightning.”

Thunder
crashed, followed by a flash of lightning, as if to prove his point. They were
quiet for a while, the sound of the television filling the gap. They were
watching
Seinfeld
.

“I
feel awful,” Mrs. B said.

“So
does she.”

“Oh
Doc. What are we going to do?”

“I
love you,” he told her. “I’ll do whatever you want.”