“She doesn’t mean it. Other people devote websites and blogs to shit they get off on. She started puttin’ pictures of Jonas on there, I called her and told her I didn’t like that, they were gone in an hour. She’s got a good life but that don’t mean she can’t fantasize and she does, usin’ me. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.”
“I fantasize too, Tate, but I don’t stalk hot guys, take pictures of them when they don’t know I’m around and spend my free time building websites devoted to them.”
“You fantasize?”
Uh-oh.
I had the feeling from his tone that our conversation just took a drastic turn.
“Tate –”
“Who do you fantasize about?”
“It doesn’t matter. This matters. This freaks me out.”
“Who do you fantasize about, Lauren?”
“It doesn’t matter!” I shouted.
“I got shit to do and I know Loretta’s website matters to you so I’m takin’ my time talkin’ to you about it. I’ll call her, tell her to knock it off with pictures of you and comments about you. She’ll probably call you and apologize, that’s the kind of person she is. Now, who you fantasize about matters to me so you’re talkin’ to me about it.”
I looked down at Jonas and informed Tate, “Jonas is in the room.”
“Tell him to get out, close the fuckin’ door then you answer my question.”
“I’m not going to tell Jonas to get out!” I snapped.
“I’m gone, Dad!” Jonas, the little traitor, yelled into the room, smiled at me and then left, closing the door loudly behind him.
Tate heard the door close, I knew this because he ordered instantly, “Answer my question.”
“Why does this matter to you?”
“I got my cock in you, Ace, you’re moanin’ sweet for me, you close your eyes, I still wanna know I’m all you see.”
“Are you nuts?” I asked.
“Answer my fuckin’ question.”
Oh no. He was mad. Really mad. I knew it and I also knew I had to stop it before it got out of hand.
Therefore, I whispered, “You.”
“Come again?”
“You. I fantasize about you.”
Silence.
For some stupid reason, I kept talking, “Before we were together and um… when I… when you’re gone, I…”
He cut me off, muttering, “Fuck me.”
“Though I wouldn’t build a website devoted to you,” I added idiotically.
“Our nighttime telephone conversations just changed,” he announced.
“Sorry?”
“You’ve been holdin’ out on me. You touch yourself thinkin’ about me when I’m gone, babe, you’re not so high-class and too good a girl not to let me listen.”
Pretty much every erogenous zone in my body started to hum.
“Tate –” I breathed.
“Startin’ tonight.”
Oh my God.
“Tate, I’m not –”
“And you’re gonna describe to me everything you’re seein’ in your head.”
Oh my God.
“Captain –”
“In detail.”
“Tate –”
“While I listen to you makin’ yourself come.”
“Um…”
“I’ll call Loretta, tell her to get in touch with you, she’ll apologize. You call me tonight I want you ready to put your hand between your legs.”
“Uh…”
“We done?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We’re done.”
Then he hung up.
I stared blankly at nothing. Then I stared at my photo on the screen of his computer. Then I took my phone from my ear and dropped it on the desk.
An hour later, Loretta called and apologized. I checked the website as she invited me to do and saw my photo was gone. She chattered to me for another twenty minutes about life in general, hers, mine and a little bit of Tate’s. Not in a stalker-esque way, in a normal-esque way. I’d long since realized she was nice when she said she’d call next time she was in Carnal and we’d have coffee “at that place where that hippie makes great lemon poppy seed bread”. I got the courage to ask if she would e-mail me the photo she’d taken of Tate and me. She agreed, sounding delighted to do so. Then she rang off.
An hour after that, I checked my e-mail to see that Loretta not only sent me the picture of Tate and I on his bike, she sent me another one of us standing by his bike, his hand to my jaw, my hands were at his waist and we were kissing. Her hilarious commentary was, “Girl, you are so lucky! Isn’t he hot?”
She’d never know just how hot he was.
Poor Loretta.
A number of hours after that, part anxious, part scared and part turned on, I climbed into bed, called Tate and five seconds later I had my hand between my legs.
The anxiety and fear melted a second after that.
I melted ten minutes later.
*
Four days after that, I was dead asleep when Tate came home.
He woke me and this was the first part of the first fantasy I described to him over the phone.
He then proceeded to help me live out the rest of it.
In detail.
After we were both done, Tate pressed his hips into mine, I came off my knees, he came off his, I went down to my belly, his body covered my back and he rested his forearms in the bed on either side of me.
“You like that, baby?” he whispered in my ear.
“Yeah, Captain,” I whispered my understatement back.
He kissed my shoulder and muttered against my skin, “Fuck, it’s good to be home.”