When the pudding was ready, we sat at the table and ate right from the pan with one spoon. The combination of apples and butter and sugar and cinnamon and shirtless Joey was enough to make any girl moan.
As we neared the bottom of the pan, Joey began smearing it on my lips and licking it off. Then he got more creative, unbuttoned my shirt, and dripped some on my neck, down my chest and onto my stomach, all of which he ate off my body with great relish. He was just licking some from my inner thigh when we heard the front door open and slam.
“Which rosary, Ma? There’s more than one here. Well, I don’t know, so you might as well come up and get it. Cripes, Joey didn’t even turn off all the lights before he left. Is he still here?”
Joey and I exchanged a panicked look. His mother and Marie were here, and we were stuck in the kitchen, nearly naked, and I was covered in sticky Brown Betty sauce! If they caught us, there was no possible way to explain ourselves, and we couldn’t get to the bedroom without coming out of the kitchen.
“Come here!” he whispered. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me into the pantry and shut the door silently. I saw nothing but blackness and heard nothing but the gunfire of my heart.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“It’s OK.” Joey put his arms around me from behind. “She just forgot her rosaries and made Marie bring her back to get them.”
“This late at night?”
“She’s religious. Something must have been keeping her up. They’ll be gone soon.”
I hoped he was right. We heard nothing for a few minutes, and I began to relax.
So did Joey. “Your neck is sticky,” he said. “Mmmmmm.” He began licking the back of my neck, and within seconds, I felt him hard against my lower back. A quickening in my stomach made me close my eyes and squeeze my thighs together.
“Joey, no.”
“Yes.” He took his arms from me for a moment and I heard him unbutton his pants. Then he lifted the bottom of the shirt I wore. I had nothing on underneath it.
“Spread your legs,” he said in my ear. My resolve splintered.
I widened my legs and he pushed up into me from behind, lifting me onto my toes and nearly off the floor. Gasping, I had to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. My hands braced against a shelf.
I would never look at a pantry the same way again. Ever.
Leaning forward slightly, I whimpered softly as he began to move in and out of me, slow and rhythmic. I moved my hands to a higher shelf and my right fingers brushed something cool and metal—the pistol. Oh my God, sex and guns in the pantry. This is my life now. Somehow the thought of it spiked my desire even more.
Then he reached around and rubbed me from the front with wet fingers, and I forgot about everything else but his magic hands.
“Does it feel good, baby?” he whispered.
I nodded, unable to speak and terrified I was going to scream with pleasure before we were through. The way Joey moved, it was as if he could read my mind, or at least my body. He knew exactly where I wanted to be touched and how. He knew the perfect way to angle himself inside me and how fast or slow I wanted him to go. He knew just what words to whisper in my ear to rattle my insides and make me clench around him. Grabbing the shelf harder, I sucked in my breath and willed myself not to yell or moan or even squeak.
Suddenly we heard voices in the kitchen.
Joey put his other hand over my mouth.
“What is all this mess? Dear God, Ma, don’t even come in here.”
Oh my God oh my God oh my God. This it is. This is my punishment, isn’t it? This is the consequence of all my awful behavior, my sins, my criminal activities. I’ll be caught fucking Joey in the pantry by his mother and she’ll faint from the shock and never let us be together again and Joey will hear her call me all sorts of names and oh God he’s still hard, how is that possible and why don’t they just leave, I’m so hot and tight and tingly and yes, yes, yes—just like that…
At the slam of the front door, Joey started moving again. “They’re gone,” he said. But he kept the hand over my mouth, and I sucked two fingers between my teeth and ran my tongue along them. He groaned, shoving into me deep and hard and driving me to insanity with his other hand. “God, you’re so wet,” he breathed. “And so tight, and so hot, and I never want to stop fucking you, ever…”
Neither of us lasted another ten seconds.
#
“You have perfect toes,” Joey said. We were in the bathtub, leaning back against opposite en
ds, and Joey held my foot up near his face. We’d locked the heavy wooden bathroom door, of course, but we’d also been smart enough to throw the deadbolt on the apartment’s front door as well. No need to invite further calamity.
“Thank you.” I bowed my head graciously, and rubbed my hands along the backs of his calves, which were alongside my hips. We’d already soaped and rinsed each other, and now we lingered in the warm water, pruney and damp-haired but happy.