Maybe Baby Lite (66 page)

“
Are you kids hungry,” she
asked, wiping her hands on her apron. Trey was eyeballing the
pies.

“
Tylar had a protein shake
earlier,” Trey replied dangerously. “We’re going to eat this
take-out upstairs.” He held up the bag. I glared at his amused
smile as his mom continued dusting the pie dough with flour. She
hadn’t caught his meaning.

Thank goodness!

“
Where’s my chocolate pie,
Mom?” he asked, coming up behind her and wrapping both of his arms
around her in a playful hug. “I see you have mincemeat for Nigel,
pumpkin for dad, and pecan for Tristan—where’s my pie?” He was like
a little boy with sibling rivalry, I thought, slightly
amused.

“
Do you see those baked
pie shells over there Trey Michael?” she asked, trying to sound
stern.

He nodded, still holding
her hostage in his arms.

“
Well, I’ve got the
chocolate filling cooking right now for one of those, and the other
one is going to be lemon meringue. You know I wouldn’t forget your
pie,” she smacked at his arm. “If you don’t let me go, that
chocolate will scald,” she warned, “then you won’t have your
pie.”

He released her with a
loud smooch on her cheek. She smiled, and I guessed that she loved
the playfulness of her youngest son. I asked Susan if she would
share her chocolate pie recipe with me. She was delighted that I'd
asked and said she would make sure to copy it down for me before we
left.

Taking our leave, Trey
said he wanted to veg out in our room for the rest of the evening.
I called Gina to see what she and Ian were doing over the holiday.
She said that Ian’s family was coming in from out of town so we
agreed to get together after the first to exchange our
gifts.

Trey and I ate our
take-out and wrapped gifts while we watched television in his room.
I decided to wrap his presents when he wasn’t around, although he
was sticking to me like glue. I figured I'd have a chance on
Christmas Eve when he went with Clive to cut the tree.

As we lay in bed that
night, totally spent from our busy day, I was curled against Trey.
He was almost asleep. “Trey,” I said, tentatively.

“
Hmm?” he
responded.

“
What’s your middle
name?”

“
Michael,” he
said.

“
So if our baby’s a girl,
I want to name her ‘Treyla Michaela,’ what do you
think?”

“
I think she’s
really
going to hate her
mommy...”

Trey made himself scarce
on Christmas Eve day, which allowed me the opportunity to wrap his
gifts. I then spent time in the kitchen with Susan making Christmas
cookies. She baked, I decorated, and we talked and talked. I wanted
to know things about Trey and she was more than happy to tell
me.

“
You know Trey is eight
years younger than Tristan,” she said, smiling at a particular
memory that must have surfaced. I nodded, dusting a stocking-shaped
cookie with red sprinkles.

“
Well, it was almost like
Trey was an only child with the gap in their ages, and I know he
probably was a bit more spoiled as a result, but he’d follow
Tristan around like a puppy. I’ll never forget this one time;
Tristan had recently turned 16 so Trey would have been seven, not
quite eight years old. Clive and I'd bought Tristan a used pick-up
truck for his 16th birthday. Tristan was proud of it; he kept it
pristine, bought a tonneau cover for it, put a new sound system in
it and everything. Well, Tristan had a girlfriend, Kate, who he'd
been seeing for awhile. Anyway, this one evening in early summer,
Tristan and Kate drove out to Steele Creek Park,” she giggled at
the memory.

“
Don’t you know that Trey
had hidden in the back of Tristan’s truck, underneath the tonneau
cover? Tristan and Kate were getting rather hot and heavy in the
cab of the truck and Trey came out from under that cover and saw
the whole thing through the back window of the truck,” she said,
now laughing harder.

She wiped a tear from her
eye as she continued, “Well, all of a sudden Tristan heard Trey
yelling, ‘I’m going to tell Daddy on you Tristan! We aren’t
supposed to let anyone touch our pee-pee.’”

“
Oh no!” I exclaimed,
doubling over with laughter, “that’s a hoot! How did you find out
about it?”

“
Oh, well Tristan was fit
to be tied. He hauled Trey back home, threatening to pummel him
good if he said anything to either Clive or me about it. He dropped
Trey off in the driveway and took off again with Kate. Trey was
stubborn, and not one to be easily intimidated by his older
brothers. He marched right in the house where Clive and I were
entertaining some friends and told us that Tristan was ‘bumping
uglies’ with Kate in his truck. I thought his Daddy was going to
bust a blood vessel. Of course that precipitated the talk Clive had
with Tristan about safe sex and all. We laugh about it to this
day.”

“
What was Trey’s
relationship like with Nigel?” I asked.

“
Nigel is two years older
that Tristan, so 10 years older than Trey. To be honest, Nigel was
pretty much out and about his business by the time Trey was five or
so. Nigel went away to boarding school after the eighth grade.
Tristan went to the local high school because he played a lot of
sports. I'd say that Nigel is more academic, Tristan is more
athletic, and Trey, I guess I'd say Trey is a combination of both.
You'll definitely see a physical resemblance between Tristan and
Trey. My God, the day I delivered Trey it was if as I was looking
at Tristan the day he was born. You never forget what your babies
look like the day they’re born, honey. I’ll tell you that.” She
smiled at me warmly, pulling another sheet of cookies from the
oven.

“
Why do you think Tristan
has never married? Not that 39 is ancient for still being
single.”

“
He had one long-term
relationship out in California. We really thought that he would
marry Tara,” she said. “Clive and I liked her. You kind of remind
me of her,” she added. “She had the same coloring and build as you
have. I don’t know what happened with them. Tristan is a fairly
private person.”

“
I guess Trey’s kind of
like that as well,” I commented.

“
Not lately,” she said,
smiling, “his emotions are very loud and clear where you're
concerned Tylar. I’ve never seen Trey so in love. I’m so happy to
see how deeply you love him too.”

“
I do,” I smiled,
flushing, “he’s my world, Susan.”

Our conversation was
interrupted when Clive and Trey came in the front, dragging the
Douglas Fir tree behind them. Susan had already made room for it in
the large living room that was off of the main hall next to the
dining room. Clive and Trey stood the tree in the stand and brushed
the branches out. It nearly touched the ceiling and was shaped
beautifully.

“
That's the prettiest tree
we’ve ever had,” Susan gushed.

“
You say that every year,”
Clive teased, hugging her.

“
Did you cut some greenery
for the mantle?” she asked.

“
I’m on my way to do it
now, Susie, don’t fret,” Clive answered shaking his head in mock
torture.

Trey turned, seeing me in
the doorway, while Susan fussed with some of the branches on the
tree. He smiled, almost shyly, and came over to where I stood. His
suede jacket smelled of pine and evergreen. He wrapped his strong
arms around me. I wondered if he and his dad had a man-to-man
talk.

“
Hey you,” he greeted,
“what have you been up to?”

“
Just hanging out with
your mom, making cookies and learning about your
childhood.”

“
Did you learn anything
interesting?” he smiled sweetly.

“
A couple of things
maybe,” I answered coyly.

He lowered his head,
tilting my chin upward with his fingers, finding my mouth with his.
“I love you,” he breathed huskily against my lips.

“
I love you, too,” I
replied softly.

Trey and I spent the next
couple of hours decorating the tree. Susan and Clive brought down
all of the lights and ornaments, some of them made by the boys when
they were in grade school.

I was particularly fond of
an ornament that Trey had made in the second grade, according to
Susan. It was a Christmas angel that had a wooden bead for a head
and a wired Christmas tree bow was hot glued to the back for the
angel’s wings. A metallic pipe cleaner formed the halo; the angel’s
gown had gold and silver glitter. It was attached to wire ornament
hook with a string knotted around it. I looked at the ornament a
little closer. The angel’s white cotton gown flared out into
something I recognized.

“
Trey, is your Christmas
angel made out of a…tampon?”

He looked down from the
ladder, the tree-topper in his hand, and studied the angel ornament
I held. Recognizing it, he gave me his crooked grin. “Yeah, a
tampon,” he replied. “Some people don’t catch that.”

“
Uh, it’s kind of hard to
miss it,” I replied, wondering what kind of school would have
second graders making Christmas angels out of tampons. As we put
the finishing touches on the tree, I suggested to Trey that he
bring down the presents we wrapped to arrange beneath
it.

“
Come help me?” he asked,
playfully. I rolled my eyes and followed him up the stairs. Trey
shut and locked our bedroom door, then turned to me. His expression
was clear.

“
Trey, your mom and dad
are downstairs, the servants are up here getting rooms ready, your
brothers will be here soon, and we still have to get
ready.”

“
I know,” he replied,
“this just might be our last opportunity before late tonight. I
don’t want to wait.”

“
What if I tell you that
you’ll have to wait?”

He cocked his head to the
side. He wasn’t quite sure where I was heading with this. The truth
was I wasn’t sure where I was heading with it either. It was as if
something else had taken over thwarting my hormones into an excited
frenzy. I wanted him to role-play with me. I was curious to see if
he would. I stared at him, my hands on my hips, feigning a
rebellious attitude. His eyes traveled over me, a flicker of
comprehension passed over his face, his lips showed a trace of a
smile.

“
Tylar,” he said, his
voice suddenly taking on a hard and authoritative edge, “you’re not
leaving this room until I've fucked you, do you understand? Now
you've 30 seconds to get your ass naked and in that bed, ready to
take my cock whatever way I choose.”

I stumbled backward, my
hands reaching behind me for the edge of the bed as his eyes burned
into me. My fingers pulled my sweater up and over. I sat down on
the edge of the bed, taking off my boots and socks. I unfastened my
jeans, pulling them down to my ankles, shaking my feet out of them.
I was still in my bra and panties.

“
I said
everything,
Tylar.
You’re not naked yet,” his voice was steely.

I reached up, unfastening
my bra, letting it fall from me onto the bed. I tossed it off of
the bed onto the floor. I lifted my backside up, pulling my panties
down to my ankles.

“
That’s far enough,” Trey
said, sharply. “I want the panties left around your ankles. Lay
back,” he ordered.

I did as I was told, my
head resting against the double row of pillows. I had view full of
Trey and watched him steadily, not sure of his next move. He
approached the bed, unbuckling his leather belt and pulled it from
the belt loops. He lowered himself down onto the bed on one knee
reaching over and wrapping the belt around my ankles. He doubled it
over, and then buckled it to keep my ankles together. The silk
panties were still around my ankles, protecting my skin from the
leather belt. My eyes widened as Trey bound my ankles. He then
lifted himself off of the bed and assertively removed his clothes.
He eyes were burning with passion and punishment. I tingled with
some primal fear as he moved with panther-like grace back to the
bed, putting both knees on it and crawling to where I
was.

“
Now,” he said, firmly,
“I’m going to fuck you and I’m going to come. I haven’t decided yet
as to whether I’m going to permit you to come. You're not to come
unless I give you express verbal permission, is that
understood?”

I nodded, afraid to
speak.

He reached inside his fly,
moving his boxers aside allowing his large, thick erection to
spring free. He was on his knees, spreading his muscular thighs
wide; he straddled my shoulders, lowering his erection toward my
face.

“
Put your hands around it,
Tylar,” he instructed firmly. I obeyed. “That’s right, now I want
you to take it all into your mouth.”

I guided his member into
my mouth, flicking my tongue around the crown, swirling it up and
down his full length. I sheathed my teeth, and took it fully into
my mouth, planting my hands on his jeans covered hips, moving him
in and out of me. I sucked and licked him thoroughly, tasting the
salty clear pre-orgasmic bead that gathered at the tip.