“Blast from the past,” she says, but it sounds like a come-on. What has Jason set up? “It’s my brothers.”
She hugs us, and squeezes me as she hugs. I’m already hard.
“Things haven’t changed, I see,” she whispers in my ear, tapping the head of my dick.
She’s still so skinny, but she’s a woman now; why is she still so skinny? Still so pale, living in the Valley and still so pale?
But I don’t care. I want to bend her over the table, fuck her with the wrath of all my mornings of blue balls, all the times she riled me up and left me dry.
I want to fuck her for not leaving a note. I’d said that to Jason, too, then, that she didn’t leave a note and he’d scowled and said, It’s not like she killed herself, and besides, look, she left all her panties.
“Sit down, boys,” she says, and we sit on either side of her.
She makes small talk, asks us what we’re doing, how Mom is, tells us she dropped out of art school, that she’s been doing porn for a year now and she really likes it, that it’s her calling, that she lives with Matt, who co-owns the company with Jeff, who’s a friend of Jason’s from college, and that she was surprised, really, when Jeff told her that we’d called. She thought about us, she said, from time to time, not all the time but sometimes, and felt a little bad about leaving without saying anything, but she was just a kid, not that she was all together now, but that she knew things, some things, like why people leave notes when they leave for ever, and why people tell other people where they are going and why they don’t.
Then she has her hand on Jason’s inner thigh, tickling near his dick. He leans back and closes his eyes.
“I wanted to do this then,” she says, getting on her knees in front of Jason. She breathes hot between his legs.
There’s something sad lingering in her face, something that makes me angry and mixed up but then she’s pulling Jason’s huge cock out of his pants and scratching his balls, wrapping her lips around his dick. Did Jason pay for this? I wonder. Is this why we’re here? Or is she just doing this because she wants to – because she wants us?
Is she so good at performing on cue?
She undresses and I’m wide-eyed at her new breasts. I want to watch all her other movies, over and over again for hours and hours, for as long as I live.
She sucks Jason’s dick like a porn star, all the moaning and the moisture, all the upward glances for approval. She doesn’t resist when he places his hand on the back of her head, pulling her closer and shoving himself deeper. I watch her lips move up and down the length of his cock and mine hardens like concrete. Her breasts nudge his knees.
“Seth,” she says, popping Jason out of her mouth. “Why don’t you fuck me while I suck Jason off?”
I look around like there’s another Seth in the room.
“You want me to, uh – fuck – to fuck you?”
“You want to, don’t you?”
“Uh – um – of course.”
She stands up, walks to the desk and bends over it.
“Jason, wanna break me in first?”
Jason, glee in his eyes, erection in hand, goes over to the table and rubs himself against her ass, like in Honour Roll. He gives me a look: Isn’t this a good movie?
She reaches back and guides him south into the sticky wetness of her hole. She grabs his balls, rolling them in her palm. Then he begins to nail her, and my mouth falls open. He makes sounds I’ve never heard from him before. He fucks her like a hellhound, like he’s drilling into something thick and thorny and that he’s got to get through to the other side.
Then he whips it out, jerking, and the foam from his dick slides over her ass like soapsuds.
“You ready, Seth?” she says, still bent over. Ready? I want to fuck her up the ass. I want to fuck her in the mouth. I want to come in her ass, on her tits, I want her to take my cock in her mouth and swallow my come until she gags. Fuck, I want to be a porn star too. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
But I don’t.
“Let’s, uh—” I’m nervous. “Go to the couch?”
Jason’s on the other couch, cleaning himself with paper napkins. I try to pretend he isn’t there as Christy leaps across the room, obediently, and bends over. I edge closer to her, my dick in my hand, but my stomach flips, and flips again, and I can’t.
“No – no—” I say. “Lie on it.”
She does, looking confused.
“On your back,” I say, watching her pert ass roll over.
I get on top of her, our eyes locked, and I ease myself in like I’m the first one, breaking her open, setting that thing loose in her that got her here in the first place. She gasps but doesn’t moan and I shift, in and out, gently. I look into her eyes and I grab her hair in fists.
I make love. To her. Inside her it feels pure, a million miles away from cameras and lights. It feels utterly private.
We kiss, we suck and pull, our tongues courting and wedding and dancing.
I lie on top of her. I kiss her ear. I want to whisper so many things but instead I just tickle her ear lobe with my tongue. I kiss her nose, which is red at the rims and sad. I look at her eyes, and she looks back at mine, and it’s almost like I could cry.
She reaches out and grabs my ass with her hands, her finger softly rimming the outside of my asshole, but she doesn’t enter it. We roll over and she’s on top of me.
The muscles of her cunt tighten around my cock – she’s a pro – and she rides me. Her breasts bounce like tennis balls, her soft hands grip my biceps. She rubs back and forth, her clit grazing the hair above my dick.
“This feels so goood, baby.”
“Yeah, it does,” I say. There are dirty words we could exchange like endearment, but we don’t.
She smiles, clenches her muscles hard around my cock. “Ah – yeah!”
She lowers to me. “Let’s go back the other way. I wanna feel you over me, is that OK?”
So we roll back over. We are careful, athletic, on the limited space of the couch.
Jason might still be in the room, and he might not be. But as I continue, thrusting deeply, feeling her clench around me at just the right moments and grind her ass up and down with finesse, I see that she’s going to come, and I know that I can too, and so we do, together, and I come inside her even though I know I shouldn’t.
I rest my head between her breasts, which are supple though clearly fake. I feel her breathe. Jason is no longer in the room; I can hear him laughing outside, him and another man laughing.
I feel naked but not empty any more. Not for just that second, the second that I lie inside her, silent.
“That was nice,” she says finally.
“It was,” I respond, giving a smile that looks like an apology. “Thank you.”
She smiles. “Thank you, Seth.”
“For what?”
She shrugs as I slip out of her and stand up. She sits up, thinking. She’s naked. With me.
“For loving me, I guess. Even if it’s just for—” She looks at the clock. “For twenty minutes.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Twenty years. At least twenty years.”
I watch as she dresses, her eyes still huge and empty. I realize that I’ve never known someone who needed love as badly as this girl – more than my mother, more than the twelve other kids shuffled in and out of our house like supporting actors, more than Jason when he first arrived on our doorstep, tattered and broken and hardened to the bone. Maybe even more than I do.
“Maybe I’ll see you guys again?” she asks.