In with the New Baby

“You are so fucking hot,” I say.

“You’re telling me,” he says. “You’re hot as hell.”

I put my hand behind his neck and push his head down and kiss him.

“So fuckin’ hot,” he says. “So beautiful.”

We go at it for a while and it’s just so hot. I’ve never been fucked by a man like Lincoln. I’ve never felt like this before.

And soon I feel a wave of heat coming over my body, culminating in tingles in my nerve endings.

“Oh, I’m there!” I say. “Oh, keep going!”

And Lincoln fucks me harder and harder as the sweat glistens on his face and chest and pours onto me.

“Give it to me, baby!”

“I’m gonna cum!” he says.

And after a few more thrusts, he arches his head and his face contorts.

“Oh, man, fuckin’ man!” he says, as he breathes heavily.

And I’m like one big explosion. Never before have I felt this way and I see the setting sun and the grass and the trees and the river all whirling into one big picture and then I’m spent.

Lincoln breathes heavily and drops on top of my body. I’m breathing heavily, too.

I grab onto his shoulders and hold him close to me.

“Good boy,” I say.

His heavy breathing slows as he rests on me as I stroke his back.

Before I know it, he’s sound asleep.

I look over at the big oak tree and hear Rexie let out a whiny yawn. He looks over at me and yawns again. He lies back down on the ground and falls back to sleep, which is exactly what I want to do after that vigorous sex session, myself.

Chapter 14

Amanda

Lincoln hasn’t shown up for his physical therapy session. I went back to the examination room a number of times, checked with the receptionist, and she said he hadn’t checked in. She gave me a funny look, and I worry that the office knows I’ve been mixing business with pleasure.

Fuck it, I say. We’re two grown adults, and if Lincoln wants to fuck me in the park, or the parking lot of the office, or fuck me in the middle of downtown, I don’t give a shit.

I’m tired of living my life adhering to the silent demands of a still, latently sexist culture that can’t get over itself.

You know, I’d never been the rebellious type. I remember my bedroom as a little girl, always pink and white with Barbie dolls and tea sets.

I think back now and have to laugh.

What kind of a fucking life is that to condition your child into?

It’s a wonder I’ve made it this far. It’s a wonder sometimes I can cross the street without getting hit by a car.

I feel like a loser. I feel like a loser because Lincoln fucked me and now it’s over.

I head back to my office to check my phone and my email.

Nothing.

I want to cry but then pull back.

No, I say to myself, you are not going to do this to yourself.

I think of asking Diane, that nosy bitch of a receptionist again, but then think better of myself.

I check my schedule and it’s clear for the rest of the day. I look at the clock on the wall and see that it’s 4:00 PM.

Since it’s a Friday, I think I’ll check out.

As I leave, I see Anne.

“Hi Amanda,” she says, always beaming and smiling.

If she was a man, I would have married him.

“Hi,” I say.

She touches my elbow.

“What’s wrong, baby girl?” she asks.

I kind of fidget and squirm like a little girl and say nothing.

Anne laughs and crosses her arms over her chest. It’s as if she can already guess what’s wrong, so I don’t need to tell her.

“Lincoln, right?” she asks.

I say nothing and sway from side to side.

Suddenly I feel like that foolish little girl with her name, or nickname, anyway – M-A-N-D-Y – in wooden letters on the wall, so I would constantly be reminded who I was as a nobody.

I’ve regressed from strong Amanda to that little pink and white horror.

My emotions are raw.

“I need to go home,” I say.

“Not to worry, love,” Anne says and hugs me.

“Thank you.”

“I’ll call Damien and see what’s going on.”

At the sound of Damien’s name, I brighten.

“Would you?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“Oh, you’re the best!” I say and kiss her on the cheek.

I go out to the car and think what I need to get grocery shopping. I’m going to fix a nice meal for myself and Margie, if she ever comes home.

I need to relax and not worry so much.

I do worry I’ll never see Lincoln again.

He can be so fragile, but, then again, so can I.

And so can all of us.

But if anyone can find out what’s going on with Lincoln, then I know that Anne and Damien can.

I drive away and look at the golden and crimson sunset so rich with light and promise.