June in August (4 page)

“Come for me, June,” he whispered in my ear. His voice was rough and his breath was ragged. “Come for me, baby.”

And I did. I fisted the back of his t-shirt in my hands and held on tight. I felt like I was falling despite the fact that Wiley’s arms were wrapped around me. I was so dizzy. It seemed that I couldn’t get enough air, then I realized that maybe I was getting too much, that it was all too much. I felt as if I were losing control over my body. My hips were thrusting up in time to Wiley’s.

Wiley Patton reached inside of me just then and managed to touch my very soul. I felt what I could only describe as sheer ecstasy. My world exploded. Nothing would ever be the same again. I, June Monroe, had experienced my very first orgasm.

Wiley’s hand was moving more slowly now, light, soft strokes. It was still inside my panties and I was suddenly aware that I was embarrassingly slick and wet. He was still moving up against me, his hips churning slowly and steadily. Rock-hard, he was.

Wiley kissed me on my forehead.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said. And then suddenly he was gone.

I sat up and looked at my reflection in his dresser mirror. My cheeks were bright red and my chest was flushed too. I ran my fingers through my hair. I stood up and walked over to the dresser in search of a comb. One of my stockings, the one Wiley had unhooked, began to slide down my leg. I stepped out of my shoes and then I quickly removed my stockings and garter belt. Next came my panties and bra. I didn’t know what was in store for me, but I wanted to be ready. There was no comb on the dresser. Should I get one from my purse? Should I put on some lipstick? My face was all shiny. Maybe a little powder was in order.

I tiptoed out of the bedroom so that I could get my purse from the kitchen. Just as I walked past the bathroom door I heard it, a deep, throaty moan. It sounded like Wiley was in pain. I knocked on the door.

“Wiley? Are you alright?”

“Fine, June,” he said. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

Only he didn’t sound fine at all. His voice sounded tight and strained.

“You don’t sound fine, Wiley. Are you sick?”

“No, baby. I…”

He was just on the other side of the door. My stomach was churning. It felt like a swarm of butterflies had taken up residence there. With each second that passed I was feeling more and more nervous. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

“What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong?”

“Yes, Wiley. Please tell me if I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, June.”

“Then why are you hiding in the bathroom?”

“I’m not hiding, June. I’m just trying to get some relief, honey. But… Damn, this isn’t helping. Hearing your voice… I don’t think I’ve ever been so hard before.”

I heard a dull thump against the door, then another and another.

“Wiley? Are you banging your head against the door? This is silly. Let me in.”

“In here?”

“Or you come out, Wiley. Please?”

The door cracked open a bit and Wiley peeked out.

“Are you crying?”

“Maybe. A bit. Yes.”

“Cause of what we did. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, Wiley. You didn’t hurt me. But I think I’d feel a whole lot better if you were holding me right now instead of hiding in the bathroom. We just had sex, Wiley. We don’t need a door between us. Do we?”

“That wasn’t sex, June. That was foreplay.”

“It was wonderful.”

Wiley grinned from ear to ear. “I’m pleased that you liked it, Junebug.”

“I did,” I said as I started to slowly unbutton Wiley’s shirt, that one I was wearing. “I liked it very much. I liked it so much, in fact, that I may want to experience some more. You mentioned something about a shower earlier?”

Wiley nodded. He stared at me through the crack in the door, mouth agape, while I unbuttoned each and every button.

“You gonna let me in?”

“You gonna open up that shirt and let me see what’s underneath?”

I parted the fabric and let the shirt fall to the floor.

“You’re beautiful,” he gasped. “Even more beautiful than I ever imagined.”

Wiley stepped back, pulled his t-shirt off over his head, and tossed it onto the floor. I pushed open the door and started to walk towards him. That’s when I saw it for the first time.

“Good Lord! Are you sure you’re alright?”

Wiley looked down at his prominent erection. The head of his penis looked angry and red. It looked awfully painful and awfully big. When I glanced back up he was studying me carefully. He reached out for my hand, pulled me closer, and then guided my hand to what the romance novels would call his “turgid member.” He wrapped my hand around it and then covered my hand with his, offering direction, leading the way.

His eyes were closed and he was leaning against the tile wall. “Does it feel good?” I asked him.

“God, yes,” he said, squeezing my hand so that I was applying a bit more pressure.

I stepped closer to him, his erection pressing into my bare belly, my breasts brushing up against his bare chest. I began to kiss his neck. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel, Wiley. Show me how. Show me how to please you.”

Well, I guess what I said inspired Wiley because he shot off like a rocket on the forth of July. He grabbed my shoulders and held on as he pumped inside my hand and then he wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. So tight that for a second I thought he was going to squeeze the air right out of me.

I’ll never forget the look on his face when he let me go. He was still breathing hard, but he was smiling. “You’re amazing,” he told me and then he kissed me, hard.

We were both sweaty and sticky and I couldn’t have cared less.

Just as I was about to wrap my arms around his neck the telephone rang. It was loud, terribly loud in that empty room.

“Be right back,” he said. “Start the shower. I won’t be but a minute.”

He walked out of the bathroom. I heard him say hello as he picked up the phone. Start the shower? I looked down at myself. I was sorely in need of cleaning up that was certain. I looked over at the bath and wondered if Wiley intended to shower with me. I’d always been more of a bath person, myself. And I didn’t have a shower cap. And if I were to shower my make-up was going to all come off. How on earth could I go home with my hair and make-up not done? It didn’t matter that my family was away for the night. Surely, somebody would see me. That was just my luck. Somebody would see me and start some ugly rumor. Then come Sunday everyone in church would be staring at me and praying for me. Lord, what had I gotten myself into I wondered. But before I could think that through I heard Wiley say my name.

“No, Momma, sorry. You can’t tempt me with your strawberry pie. I’ve already got dinner plans for the evening. I’m having supper with June.”

“Yes, June Monroe. You know any other Junes?”

I stepped out into the hallway. Wiley had removed his jeans and he was holding them in his left hand while he held the handset to the phone in his right. His back was to me. There was a bright patch of sunlight streaming in through the big picture window right behind him, casting him in a warm yellow glow. He looked magnificent.

Wiley must have sensed my presence because he turned to face me.

“Thanks Momma. Of course I know that June’s always welcome. I’ll ask her to join us Sunday after church. I’ve already bought steaks and tonight I thought I’d make dinner, just the two of us.”

Wiley paused and listened for a moment. His eyes bore into mine. He tilted his head a bit to the left, winked, and then beckoned me to him with a crook of his finger.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m definitely intending to see more of June.”

I walked to the edge of the hallway and then hesitated for a moment.

“No, ma’am. I have it on good authority that she’s not going to be marrying Peter Johnson.”

“Here, at the house.”

“Yes, ma’am. Just the two of us.”

“Consider her reputation? Well, I suppose we could bring the table outside and eat in the front yard, but then we’d have to put clothes on—”

My jaw must have dropped clear to the floor. I’m sure that my eyes were as big as saucers. I ran over to Wiley, despite the fact that the curtains to the picture window were wide open and reached for the phone.

“Have you gone crazy?”

Then I heard the dial tone. I was holding the handset in my right hand and I swear to God if he hadn’t looked so good naked I would have hit him upside the head with it.

“She hung up after I said I’d bring you to dinner on Sunday.”

“You about gave me a heart attack! You’re wicked, Wiley Patton! What on earth possessed you to do such a thing?”

“Will you come to church with me on Sunday and then come to dinner?”

I know I turned bright red.

“Wiley, we’ve just fornicated for heaven’s sake. How can you be thinking about church and manage to still look so pleased with yourself?”

Wiley reached out and caressed the side of my face.

“Do you regret what we did, June?”

I leaned into his touch.

“No.”

“Me neither. And, we haven’t fornicated. You’re still a virgin.”

“You don’t think what we did counts as fornication?”

“Definitely not.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’d be happy to show you the difference, June. Just for the sake of comparison of course.”

He was playing with me now. Teasing me. I flashed on a memory of a hot summer day, a day just like this. I was nine and Wiley was twelve.

“If you’d wanted the chocolate, why didn’t you get the chocolate?”

“I didn’t want the chocolate. I wanted the vanilla.”

“So eat your vanilla.”

“I just want a lick, June. Don’t be so stingy. You can try mine.”

“But I don’t want to try yours, Wiley. I’m perfectly happy with my cone, thank you very much.”

“Come on, June,” he coaxed as he tugged playfully on my braid. “Just for the sake of comparison?”

“Maybe later,” I said with an air of confidence that I rarely felt. Then I turned around and strolled back towards the bathroom.

“Really?”

“Maybe,” I replied, making no commitment.

Wiley leaned against the doorway to the bathroom and watched me turn on the taps to the bath.

“You don’t happen to have a shower-cap, do you?”

“No.”

I must have frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“If I shower my hair’s going to get all wet.”

“It’ll dry, June.”

“But it’ll look different. People will notice.”

“What people?”

“Anyone I happen to see on the way home.”

“Oh.”

“I think maybe I should take a bath. Do you mind?”

“No,” replied Wiley as he walked over and flipped the lever on the tub so that it started filling up. “Or, you could just not go home. I could hold you prisoner and make you my sex slave.”

“Just what would that entail, being your sex slave?”

Wiley leaned over and whispered into the shell of my ear, “You’d have to endure endless hours of pleasure.” Then he sucked my earlobe into his mouth, tugging on it playfully with his teeth.

I was ready to sign up, the town gossips and my mortal soul be damned.

“I’m gonna light the grill. It’ll take a while for the coals to get hot,” he said, stepping into his jeans. “You take your bath, then I’ll take a quick shower.”

“I made a cucumber and tomato salad. You didn’t have much else.”

He tucked himself into his jeans, zipped them up, and said, “Thank you, June.”

“Hey Wiley? Got a cold one for a buddy?”

I heard the screen door slam and the sound of footsteps approaching. Wiley stepped out into the hallway.

“Jared! There’s a six-pack in the kitchen. Help yourself. Pull one out for me. I was just about to start the grill.”

Wiley winked at me and then softly closed the bathroom door.

I was in an utter state of panic. I was completely naked. The dress I had worn was still soaking wet. My underclothes were strewn about his room. The shirt that I’d been wearing was in the hallway on the floor. I looked at my reflection in the mirror and tried to calm myself down.

“Sounds like you left the water running. Want me to turn it off while you light the grill?”

“Nah. It’s just the bath filling. You grab the beers and meet me outside.”

I started to hyperventilate. I sat down on the commode, leaned over, put my head between my knees and forced myself to calm down. The Lord must have been on my side. Which was a bit surprising considering how much sin I’d committed both in deed and thought in the past few hours. My breathing returned to normal.

I quickly wrung out my dress and draped it over the shower bar. I wondered briefly if I could hide in the bathroom until it dried. I imagined myself, trying to emerge from the bathroom and greeting Jared as if everything were normal. My dress hopelessly wrinkled, no shoes and stockings, my make-up half kissed off and my hair completely mussed. I felt like crying and probably would have if I hadn’t been so terrified of being overheard.