My mom wraps me into a big hug. She smells like Chanel, the scent of my childhood that instantly brings memories of laughter and love and home. I may be mad about how they treated Lonnie, dismissing him so easily the way they did, but they were good parents—a bit overprotective, but always caring.
“Look at us all together again,” she says with her big, white porcelain veneer smile. “Just like when you were young. Don’t you remember that, when Lonnie was always over for dinner?”
Of course I remember. I was in love with him.
I glance over at Lonnie. His face is neutral, pleasant. I wonder what he’s thinking. How could he not be mad at them for abandoning him? He smiles and winks at me, not looking upset at all. If he’s not, then I’m going to try to let it go too. I have to look away to keep my feelings for him from being too obvious.
We sit down to eat. The whole thing is awkward. There’s so much sexual tension between Lonnie and me that I’m afraid everyone else can feel it too. Sometimes when I look at him, I forget my parents are here. I’m glad they’re usually oblivious to everything in their personal life—never when it comes to work, of course, but definitely when it comes to me.
We eat, but I’m not hungry. I’m too nervous. I can’t remember the last time we were all together like this. I remember coming home from college my first year and Lonnie was simply…gone. No explanation offered, and it just seemed that he was erased from our lives. Erased from my parents’ memories. Well, I certainly never forgot about him. Things seem to be a little warmer between them all, but I can’t even imagine what they would say if they found out about this fake marriage.
We finish our dinner and my dad pours us drinks. He’s always made the best martinis, which is what my mom and I have, while he and Lonnie sip at his expensive scotch.
“Why don’t we take our drinks to the hot tub,” my mom suggests.
“I don’t have a suit,” I tell her.
I used to keep clothes at their house for this very reason, but when I moved to the city, I came to pick everything up.
“I still have one of your old ones here,” she says. “Lonnie can wear a pair of your dad’s trunks.”
I open my mouth to argue. My mom has a way of shushing people without saying a word. Just a simple motion of the hand.
“It’s a beautiful evening, I won’t take no for an answer.”
She never does. It’s what makes her a great lawyer, just like my dad.
I sigh, knowing there’s no sense in arguing.
I follow her upstairs to my old room. It looks just as it did when I left it when I was a teen going off to college. Same posters of the bands I used to listen to then but who I can’t stand now, same bottles of perfume and makeup that should probably be tossed out after all this time. In my dresser I find the old one-piece bathing suit she was talking about. It’s navy blue with white stripes going down the sides. It has a sporty look to it. I remember I used to wear it to go to the public pool when I was on the swim team at school. I was sixteen then, and my boobs and hips were much smaller. I put it on, but it barely fits. My chest spills out in a mountain of cleavage. I didn’t think it was possible for a sporty one piece to look provocative, but somehow it manages to do just that.
“It’s a little small,” my mom says, trying to make it sound better than it is. “It’ll work for now.”
I look at myself in the mirror. Oh well. It’s nothing Lonnie hasn’t seen before.
8
Lonnie
I swore to myself, when Savanna walked through the door of her parents’ house, that I would behave myself. I was sure I could, but she looked so amazing in just a casual sweater and jeans that fit her perfectly. I love when she wears her sexy office attire—it gives me naughty secretary fantasy thoughts—but seeing her so relaxed in her everyday clothes … there’s just something effortless and beautiful about it. God, it’s going to be hard for me to keep my hands to myself.
I’m sitting in the hot tub with Stan, sipping scotch, when Savanna walks out in her one-piece bathing suit. Damn, it’s a good thing my dick is hidden by the bubbling water. There would be no hiding my hard-on otherwise.
I watch her walk toward me with owl-like focus. The bathing suit it too small, making her cleavage look good enough to eat. I can see the full outline of her pussy. It’s bordering on erotic, even though it’s not the type of bathing suit that would usually make me have those thoughts.