HALLOWEEN NIGHT
SEVEN YEARS AGO
She feels right.
Like she’s meant to be sitting behind me on the bike, gripping me tight.
The ride over to the mansion from the art building is way too short and as I approach the raging party going on in my front yard I have an urge to keep going. To take her deep into the mountains to some lonesome cabin where the world can’t touch us. And just stay there with her until we’re best friends and she can’t bear to look away from me.
But then I’m being waved forward through the crowd of people gathering in the street, and the next thing I know, I’m pulling up to the garage with all the other bikes and that dream of a time-out in the mountains where I have her captive attention just disappears.
She takes her helmet off and smiles as she hands it over. I can’t take my eyes off her, so I just absently drop the helmet onto the ground and take her hand in mine.
We don’t talk. The music is too loud, the people are too much, and the party is way too easy to use as an excuse to be quiet.
I walk her through the crowd in the front yard. There are over a hundred people here, half of them women wearing similar sexy outfits to the one Daisy has on.
I don’t look at any of them. They are nothing compared to the sweet innocent thing I just brought home.
I grab us a couple bottles of beer. I don’t bother asking if she’s legal to drink. I don’t want to know. But she’s not really interested in the beer. Or the party. It’s pretty clear that her attention is on me.
We go inside.
I take her upstairs.
Daisy looks around my room, fascinated by everything. I watch her carefully as who I am begins to sink in. She had no idea back on campus. She thought I was wearing a costume. And maybe she started to get a little curious downstairs, but up here in my bedroom—surrounded by everything that makes me me—there is no way to miss who I am.
“You wanna go now?” I asked her.
No. She wants to stay.
Now that my hand is up her dress and my thumb is pressing against her cotton panties, there is no way I’ll let this girl go in the morning. This is no one-night stand.
And when she comes in my hand… fuck. I start having fantasies of locking her up and keeping her forever.
One breast is already exposed, her sweet milkmaid top crooked because I made it that way. Her body is trembling from her instant orgasm and her head has fallen backwards, exposing her throat.
I lean forward and trace my lips over the arch of her neck and she gives in, slowly falling backwards into the velvet comforter.
I crawl up her body, angling my hips over hers, pressing against her as I straddle her thighs. Then I kiss her for real. A slow, open-mouth kiss filled with tongue.
Her mouth responds first. Then her hands are dragging my t-shirt up my back. I was worried for a moment that she would be a virgin and this would involve a lot of cajoling on my part. But she’s not. Clearly. She has a mind of her own and she’s going for it.
The t-shirt comes off by her hands. It’s tossed aside without care. And then there’s no going back. It’s an avalanche of heaving breathing. A tsunami of wandering hands. A tornado of twisting tongues. She is gasping as I rip her blouse open. The bra snaps too—front closure, always nice—and then her perfect, round melon breasts are in my hands.
Her back arches up as I squeeze them, my mouth covering one nipple as her hand dips down to my open jeans and just… goes for it. No hesitation. Fully on board. One minute I’m in control, and then next she’s got my dick in her hand, squeezing me the way I am squeezing her.
I want to fuck her immediately. Then do it again.
And that’s exactly what happens.
I turn away from Mountain Avenue, push through the billowing curtains, and stand in the center of my room again, seeing it as it was that night.
Not much has changed. A few more framed sketches on the wall. A few more magazine covers. But this room tonight could still be that room that night. And I get lost in the memory for a few moments.
How did that night even happen?
I roll it back in my head, trying to make sense of everything. I was in Lucille’s office because she’d been stalking me and leaving crazy messages on my voicemail. We weren’t even dating.
I have known Lucille for most of my life. Our fathers were friends before hers went to prison. After that happened I lost track of her. She moved away or something. Reinvented herself, I guess.