FIC: Pool Boy Fantasy (Sabrina/Jack); Original Fic; NC-17
Title: Pool Boy Fantasy
Author: Esmeralda
Fandom: None, Original Fic
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: This is a work of impure fiction.
Summary: Many things are not what they seem.
Original Date: November 2009
_____________________________________________
“I’m a freakin’ cliché,” she said aloud, standing at the tinted rear picture window. Arms folded over her t-shirt, she took a defiant posture for the benefit of an empty room. Ten or so feet below and less than that away from her, the pool boy flexed wiry arms, tan and sure, skimming the Olympic-size on which her boss secretly prided himself.
Prof Mac had a pool service that provided a singularly devoted pool boy. The professor’s pride and joy was frequented by college girls and boys, every one California tan and enamored of tenured intellect. But he was away and so were the summer denizens.
Sabbatical. She savored the word often in her mind. Free rent for an academic year. “Just keep my babies safe, Sabrina,” he had said, referring directly to his vast library and obliquely to the pool.
She tapped the pulp novel on her leg. This boy, Jack, got under her skin. Mostly, guys didn’t even hit her radar. He was tall, slim, and narrow-shouldered, with a sharp jaw and strong nose in an otherwise softly pretty face. Maybe that was it, the things that didn’t belong. She liked quirks. And he stole glances at her whenever she came out of hiding: difficult not to be flattered.
She wasn’t sure the pool needed cleaning three times a week as lightly used as it was on her watch, but it wasn’t her nickel and it wasn’t her problem as long as he didn’t throw a kegger or try to make off with anything. Besides, a woman pushing thirty needs a good reason to ogle someone barely out of high school, even if he’s not the preferred gender.
Sabrina went into the kitchen and poured a glass of iced tea. She thought about how hot it was outside. Baking. She took down another glass and poured again. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the sliding door open and flip-flopped out. “Hey, thought you might be thirsty.”
“God, yes,” Jack husked, in tones that made Sabrina come up short as she extended the glass. “Thanks.” He took it and inhaled the drink in several large gulps, smacking his lips after. He grinned and his blue eyes twinkled past freckles that underlay his tan. Dark blonde lashes, pale blonde crop all sun-bleachy and ruffled. White blonde body hair, slightly darker at the armpits. She stopped her assessment there. On purpose.
Sabrina saw him check out her boobs for the hundredth time or so. She suppressed a grin. He couldn’t help it. Boys his age never could. Jack’s eyes quickly flicked back to her face. He smiled, and it looked half-apologetic. She had taken to wearing higher necklines on Jack days. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the attention, but she didn’t like the idea of him thinking she was a randy desperate housewife type. No way, kid, P-h-D all the way. One day, she had turned back to ask a question as she was walking away and caught him watching her ass. That was the last time her short shorts saw a Tuesday. Just as well, they were for froshlings, not her.
She didn’t say anything, just took the glass and went back inside. Refilling it, she left it on the patio table and retreated behind the tinted glass. She tried again with the book, escapist fluff, but it didn’t distract her from the distraction of Jack squatting down to pull the filters, thighs and tight butt flexing, something his loose shorts usually concealed. “Jesus H,” Sabrina said to the empty room, “I need to get out more.”
Penny had dumped her a month before, moving to Seattle with a new grad. Surprise! Prof Mac had come to the rescue with a place to stay. She felt utterly safe from him in her out-lez skin and her assistantship. He was a horny man, but he didn’t break rules and he didn’t try things beneath his dignity. They had done fine in the house together, and then he had left for Siberia. Literally. And that was even more fine.
His daughter was another matter. Annoying as hell. She dropped by to use the pool and fuck her sundry boyfriends without regard to Sabrina’s peace and quiet. Sabrina didn’t at all mind the het-identified of the world, but she minded rudeness and faked orgasms. One particularly loud afternoon, when her schedule hadn’t been consulted and she didn’t feel like packing herself off to the mall, Sabrina stepped into the hallway. “Hey, Boy, don’t make me come in there and show you how to work that properly,” she said in her loudest voice. That had more or less taken care of the problem. Sabrina was pleased after that to surrender her bartered turf on the basis of a polite email or text asking if it was okay to use the house. Détente had been established.
And she rather surprisingly appreciated Prof Mac’s stash of DVDs of alleged fratboys wanking solo. She desperately hoped that it was not penis envy that made her fall into the practice of coming with them. Nor did she attribute closet homoerotic tendencies to Himself; she figured almost everyone appreciates a good cock enjoying itself.
She missed Penny. Her hurt feelings, the ones derived of real abandonment, didn’t help. Jack’s roving eyes helped even as they made her uncomfortable. Hmm. What might Jack’s cock look like, enjoying itself? She couldn’t picture it.
A string of expletives brought her back to present. Jack was wrestling some part of a motor out of the pool house. Sabrina managed to get herself up off the couch and outside. “Can I help?”
Jack gazed ruefully at the offending item. “Gotta take it in. Sorry.”
“No problem.” Then a problem occurred to her. “Erm, what does something like that cost… I mean, how do I pay?”
“Prof Mac trusts me. He has an account.”
“Oh. Great. Do you need a hand getting that to the truck?”
Jack squinted back at her, faced into the sun as he was. He shrugged. “Nah, I got this. I’d like to come in and wash my hands after I load it up.”
“No problem, let yourself in.” In Sabrina’s mind, silly porn music started. If she could have added, “and I won’t be waiting naked on the living room rug,” without making a fool of herself, she would have. She went to the kitchen and started making herself some lunch, suddenly feeling profoundly dissatisfied with her present lot in life.
A half-sandwich later, the door slid back and Jack stepped in, brown feet bare, white leg hair looking bright against his skin. Samantha pretended not to observe as he passed behind her and washed up at the kitchen sink. “It’s okay to use the towel there,” she said.
“You know, it’s much nicer with you here than that girl Sue who stayed here last time. You let me do my work.”
“You mean Daughter Princess didn’t let you?”
“Well. She had other chores for me.”
The unbidden recollection of Sue’s fake ecstasy suddenly shrieked through Sabrina’s mind’s ear.
“Chores, eh? Mean to say I’ve missed out on general handy help? It didn’t even occur to me.” Sabrina put down the mayo and turned to rest her elbows on the countertop.
The slim boy shrugged. “Looking at the washing machine. Hanging curtain rods. Carrying stuff to the garage.”
“Supervising in a string bikini.” Sabrina laughed. “Her, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Jack chuckled, “and like, this guy came over and… never mind. I shouldn’t tell tales out of school. Anyway, it’s nicer, now.”
There was a moment of strange quiet. Jack’s throat worked like he was going to say something. But he didn’t. He smiled a little half-smile and headed for the door, passing by close enough that Sabrina could smell him. Sand, ocean, sweat, sage. She shut her eyes involuntarily. “Jack…”
“Yeah?” He half turned.
She blinked slowly. “See you Thursday?”
His grin showed teeth. “If you’re here.” And then he was gone.
Fratboys wanking notwithstanding, Sabrina didn’t really do cock. She hadn’t for a long time, such a long time she wasn’t sure it still counted. And truth be told, she didn’t think about Jack nailing her per se, she thought about Jack biting her neck, licking her nipples, pushing her down and eating her senseless. Not a likely plan of action for a boy of 18 or 19. Not what they dreamed about. Well, maybe the nipples part.
Wednesday night, she went to The Refinery. She made an effort beforehand in the mirror and forced herself to go on the early side and order a drink at the bar. Two songs into the first set, she actually started to pay attention to the band. The lead singer’s voice got in and she turned around to watch them play. What she saw stunned her.
Jack towered over the dancers in black lug-soled boots, leather pants with a low rise that actually showed a faint blond line disappearing into them, and a metallic half-shirt that left a flat stomach bare. With hair gelled, silver rings and leather cuffs glinting, and fuck-all black eyeliner making his blue eyes pop, the quiet pool boy was transformed. The other three guys wore similar shades of rock-star wannabe, having a great time ruling the room.
Transfixed, Sabrina could only watch the performance helplessly, feeling her panties soaking through as Jack’s teeth bared over some awesome notes. And impossibly, he saw her across the whole crowd. They locked eyes. He winked before striding back across the stage to howl down at some dancers.
Sabrina left after the first set. She was shaken. No pool boys. No fucking musicians. No cock. No way. She was at her car, unlocking it with trembling hands.
“Hey.”
Shit. She took a deep breath and faked a smile as she turned. “Hey, you.” He was dazzling this close. Glamorous, sweaty, gleaming. And yet familiar.
“I guess you didn’t like it? You can give me the straight truth, I can take constructive criticism.”
“No, man, that was fantastic. I just… I just decided I can’t do the bar scene so soon after all. I freaked out a little.” That was true. “I didn’t know you were in a band.” Of course not. It wasn’t like they had shared. “You can sing your ass off.”
Jack looked at her, head tilted just a little. “Thanks. You look fucking awesome,” he said unabashedly. “Good enough to eat,” he husked, stepping closer, nudging her personal space.
She felt herself blush. And soak. “Thanks. Really. But look, honestly, I think you’re a little young. It makes me feel old and tarnished.”
Stepping close enough that their noses brushed, Jack murmured, “I’m not as young as you think. Don’t prejudge me.” He stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. To install the pump.” And he smiled at her. No hard feelings, that smile seemed to say.
She drove home, heart pounding, cunt throbbing, tears stinging her eyes. And refused to reward her wayward self with an orgasm. She took a shower and crawled into bed thoroughly demoralized.
Thursday morning, she fretted over some work, changed out of her t-shirt and into a sweatshirt. Pulled her hair into a ponytail. Put on no makeup. Considered being gone. Couldn’t leave. She heard the pickup’s rumble. Plain Jack made his way into the backyard wearing work gloves and hauling the pump. No, not plain at all, just not glam. Wearing his usual loose basketball shirt and shorts, flip flops, he looked relaxed, normal. It helped her take a deeper breath and step out of the house. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he replied over his shoulder.
“Great show last night. Sorry I couldn’t stay.”
He nodded. “I gather you got let down hard recently.”
“Let’s say I’m not in top form. That was my first venture out at night that wasn’t taking myself to a movie alone.”
“Good for you.”
“And I didn’t mean…. What I want to say…. Shit.”
Jack snorted. He stood and stripped off his gloves, turning to face Sabrina. “Okay, listen, couple of things. I’m not good with rebounds. And I think you have me confused with someone else.”
That surprised Sabrina. “Who?”
Jack dropped the gloves at his feet. “A boy.” Reaching out, Jack snagged one of Sabrina’s hands and unceremoniously thrust it into the baggy rise of cargo shorts.
Sabrina squeaked with surprise at being grabbed, and then sucked in air as her fingers encountered prominent bone and confirmed her mistake. Jack didn’t let Sabrina linger but pulled her hand away again, using that leverage to back Sabrina several paces against the sliding door. Then Jack bent to join their mouths.
In a shock of awareness, Jack made absolute sense. Sabrina tilted her head to get a better angle. Her hands slid up Jack’s arms and she pressed close. That made Jack shudder a little. Those long fingers squeezed Sabrina’s waist and then shifted upwards, hesitated.
Jack broke the kiss, rubbed her nose along Sabrina’s. “Mmm,” she said, tongue flicking out over her bottom lip for a moment. Dusky lashes flickered. Her fingers twitched on Sabrina’s ribs. “I have to finish here and I’ve got an eleven o’clock appointment two neighborhoods over. Can I come back later? Say three or so?”
Sabrina nodded, couldn’t do more than that. When Jack smiled a little and moved away, she wondered how she didn’t see it before. Well, actually, it wasn’t at all obvious. Jack was angular, had a guy’s movements. Not butch, not affected, just not regular gal. It wasn’t a matter of androgyny put on for effect. Sabrina went in the house to let Jack work. The alternative was to dive on… her. It took some getting used to, that mental shift.
When the doorbell rang at two minutes to three, Sabrina forced herself to walk casually to answer it. Jack was on the doorstep in jeans-low-rise jeans-and a blue button down shirt.
Resting her cheek on her hand, half hidden by the door, Sabrina smiled. “You changed.”
“So did you,” Jack grinned back, eyes dipping to Sabrina’s breasts. “Although I liked the baggy sweatshirt. Kinda hide-and-seek.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
It made Sabrina laugh. “C’mon in.” She left the safety of the doorway.
“So what I said about rebounds. I think it was presumptuous.”
“Hell yes it was. I don’t mind. Let’s get a presumptuous age question out of the way.”
“Twenty three. Graduated college last year. I’m bio female and I identify as a woman. Mostly. If women who don’t behave in their proper roles count.”
“I’m twenty eight. Bio female. Big mouthed feminist. Always wanted to be able to do the Marlene Dietrich thing for formal occasions but I wasn’t thin enough to make the damn suit work.” She swallowed hard and it didn’t stop the stream of words. “Apparently, I enjoy porn with men in it; I especially like watching men jack off. But cock isn’t my thing in the flesh, and funny thing, I just couldn’t picture yours.”
Jack laughed out loud. “Okay, let’s see… After my safe sex checklist compliance, I dig eating pussy and I’m good at it. If it’s confession time? I also sometimes really enjoy receiving penetration.” She shrugged. “It bugs some women.”
“Um, does it have to look like a penis?” Sabrina giggled.
“I don’t care what the fuck it looks like as long as it fills me up,” Jack growled a little. “I prefer women, but…” she hesitated, ran a nervous hand through her hair, “I did fuck my rhythm guitarist a couple weeks ago. He caught me at a weak moment. Just want to be honest.”
They hadn’t moved within five paces of each other yet. “Glad we got all that out of the way,” Sabrina said, smiling. She had her arms folded over her chest and tapped her fingers nervously on an elbow.
Jack’s eyes dipped again, briefly, just a flick. “Can I come a little closer?”
“You can come a lot closer,” Sabrina answered, but her arms didn’t unfold.
Jack stepped up. She touched the sides of Sabrina’s arms with her palms, grazing upwards, and her thumbs brushed the outer curve of Sabrina’s breasts, taking a small but deliberate liberty. Her in-breath was long and audible. “Damn. I am so glad you came into the bar last night. I never, never would have dared otherwise.”
“Really. You checked out my boobs like, a hundred times.”
Jack flinched in mock horror. “Sorry. I’m fond of them.”
“’S okay. I thought you were the fucking pool boy. It fit.” They both grinned.
“And I thought you liked boys.”
“Touché. How about we start with the couch? We can’t screw that up too badly.” She led Jack to sit down, and just as she was about to sit next to her, a firm hand on her hip stopped her.
“Sit on my lap,” Jack coaxed, softly. Sabrina hesitated. Jack smiled, shyly. “Yes, I’m moving fast out here in the real world, but it’s been such a long time in my head.”
Sabrina stood looking down at Jack for a long moment. Jack was sitting knees splayed, relaxed back, shirt playfully three buttons open. She straddled Jack’s lap, catching the back of the sofa and one of Jack’s shoulders with her hands. Slowly, she lowered herself, letting her chest linger at eye level, and settled firmly across Jack’s thighs.
Jack exhaled long and slow as her hands drifted to Sabrina’s ass and rested there. “Wow,” she murmured, squeezing lightly. “I’ve missed short-shorts Tuesdays. You’re just… lush.” Her eyes shifted to Sabrina’s face, the blue of them piercing in the shady room. “I like lush.” It came across as if a lioness had said out loud, “I like zebra.”
Sabrina felt herself blush, thrown off. Not usually a blusher and that made twice in less than 24. Feeling the need to take the situation down a less intense path, Sabrina kissed her then, tasting in a teasing, flirty pattern, just like in her flights of fancy through the window. She felt Jack’s fingers tighten as she was seated more firmly against Jack’s groin. A low growl began under Jack’s breath. The lioness was not playful. Lives might be lost. Safe was a quiet house and a bad novel. This wasn’t safe. This was adventure.
Sliding her lips free, Sabrina sat up straighter, which just happened to rock her clit against Jack’s zipper. She drew her own thin t-shirt up, drawing Jack’s eyes along with its edge, up over her bra, the one with dense white embroidery over the palest blue, the one that Penny told her took her breasts from “generous” to “land of plenty.” She could feel Jack tremble underneath her.
Funny how annoyed she had been in high school at boys obsessed with getting next to her boobs. Funny, because she was melting down her thighs at Jack’s entranced response. Sabrina traced the scalloped edge of the bra with her fingers, up and down, up and down, raising light gooseflesh on herself, feeling her nipples harden against the pressure of the last garment between her and an eager mouth. Jack swallowed, keeping her hands firmly on Sabrina’s ass, then caught her own bottom lip between her teeth. Her breath hissed a little.
“Do you…,” Sabrina began as she dipped her hands down inside the cups, “…want,” she continued, now slowly scooping, then pausing the movement mid-lift, “to suck my tits?”
“Please,” Jack whispered.
Sabrina lifted them free, cupping, offering. She hadn’t considered her breasts much a part of her erogenous response before, but right now, she wanted them greedily consumed. Jack obliged. She cradled them together, licked all across the rise, sucked the nipples, back and forth, thumbing the nipple she wasn’t sucking at any given moment, laved the undersides, and kneaded. Sabrina had her own hands locked on Jack’s shoulders. She wasn’t sure how long they clinched like that, building the sensation until she wished she could come through her nipples, shooting like a guy. That crazy, fleeting thought made her groan out loud.
In one strong movement, Jack pushed and rolled and had Sabrina under her, mouth never pausing. She locked one leg over Sabrina’s and fucked against her, cunt to cunt. Sabrina distantly reflected on how jeans are never really comfortable, but they do create the most helpful friction, seams in the handiest spots. She grabbed a cushion that was not comfortably behind her head and lifted her hips, lifted Jack too, actually, and stashed it underneath.
“Fuck, yeah,” Jack said wetly against Sabrina’s skin, then her mouth closed again, tongue giving previews of its further talents for use later elsewhere. The world behind Sabrina’s eyes had shifted into the ultraviolet. She found the rhythm of Jack’s circles and shifted lazily in counterpoint. Usually, she needed to participate a little more to get herself where she wanted to go, but hot and wet and rough all conspired together and she yelled out the sharp orgasm once, twice and then groaned through clenched teeth so that she wouldn’t completely miss what was happening with Jack.
Jack’s hips were rolling, and then she was shrieking into her mouthful, throat sounding so rough it might tear. Sabrina held on tight, as though Jack might fly off if she didn’t hold her down. Jack slowed, subsided, and collapsed. She released her various grips on Sabrina’s flesh and started laughing, hysterically. “Oh my god,” she managed.
“You’re still fully clothed,” Sabrina giggled. “Every stitch.” She pushed Jack’s hair back off her sweaty forehead.
“But I had you inside me,” Jack said with a saucy smile, then laid her head down, nuzzling, and then drowsing.
Sabrina, drifting, watched the pool reflections on the ceiling. It seemed likely that there would be time later for checklists, for explorations, for lots more orgasms, and for getting to know Jack. In the end, an unwanted, cliché fantasy had been knocked on its ass and made right and wholesome. She felt a silly smile happen just as she fell asleep.
*******
Author: Esmeralda
Fandom: None, Original Fic
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimers: This is a work of impure fiction.
Summary: Many things are not what they seem.
Original Date: November 2009
_____________________________________________
“I’m a freakin’ cliché,” she said aloud, standing at the tinted rear picture window. Arms folded over her t-shirt, she took a defiant posture for the benefit of an empty room. Ten or so feet below and less than that away from her, the pool boy flexed wiry arms, tan and sure, skimming the Olympic-size on which her boss secretly prided himself.
Prof Mac had a pool service that provided a singularly devoted pool boy. The professor’s pride and joy was frequented by college girls and boys, every one California tan and enamored of tenured intellect. But he was away and so were the summer denizens.
Sabbatical. She savored the word often in her mind. Free rent for an academic year. “Just keep my babies safe, Sabrina,” he had said, referring directly to his vast library and obliquely to the pool.
She tapped the pulp novel on her leg. This boy, Jack, got under her skin. Mostly, guys didn’t even hit her radar. He was tall, slim, and narrow-shouldered, with a sharp jaw and strong nose in an otherwise softly pretty face. Maybe that was it, the things that didn’t belong. She liked quirks. And he stole glances at her whenever she came out of hiding: difficult not to be flattered.
She wasn’t sure the pool needed cleaning three times a week as lightly used as it was on her watch, but it wasn’t her nickel and it wasn’t her problem as long as he didn’t throw a kegger or try to make off with anything. Besides, a woman pushing thirty needs a good reason to ogle someone barely out of high school, even if he’s not the preferred gender.
Sabrina went into the kitchen and poured a glass of iced tea. She thought about how hot it was outside. Baking. She took down another glass and poured again. Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the sliding door open and flip-flopped out. “Hey, thought you might be thirsty.”
“God, yes,” Jack husked, in tones that made Sabrina come up short as she extended the glass. “Thanks.” He took it and inhaled the drink in several large gulps, smacking his lips after. He grinned and his blue eyes twinkled past freckles that underlay his tan. Dark blonde lashes, pale blonde crop all sun-bleachy and ruffled. White blonde body hair, slightly darker at the armpits. She stopped her assessment there. On purpose.
Sabrina saw him check out her boobs for the hundredth time or so. She suppressed a grin. He couldn’t help it. Boys his age never could. Jack’s eyes quickly flicked back to her face. He smiled, and it looked half-apologetic. She had taken to wearing higher necklines on Jack days. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the attention, but she didn’t like the idea of him thinking she was a randy desperate housewife type. No way, kid, P-h-D all the way. One day, she had turned back to ask a question as she was walking away and caught him watching her ass. That was the last time her short shorts saw a Tuesday. Just as well, they were for froshlings, not her.
She didn’t say anything, just took the glass and went back inside. Refilling it, she left it on the patio table and retreated behind the tinted glass. She tried again with the book, escapist fluff, but it didn’t distract her from the distraction of Jack squatting down to pull the filters, thighs and tight butt flexing, something his loose shorts usually concealed. “Jesus H,” Sabrina said to the empty room, “I need to get out more.”
Penny had dumped her a month before, moving to Seattle with a new grad. Surprise! Prof Mac had come to the rescue with a place to stay. She felt utterly safe from him in her out-lez skin and her assistantship. He was a horny man, but he didn’t break rules and he didn’t try things beneath his dignity. They had done fine in the house together, and then he had left for Siberia. Literally. And that was even more fine.
His daughter was another matter. Annoying as hell. She dropped by to use the pool and fuck her sundry boyfriends without regard to Sabrina’s peace and quiet. Sabrina didn’t at all mind the het-identified of the world, but she minded rudeness and faked orgasms. One particularly loud afternoon, when her schedule hadn’t been consulted and she didn’t feel like packing herself off to the mall, Sabrina stepped into the hallway. “Hey, Boy, don’t make me come in there and show you how to work that properly,” she said in her loudest voice. That had more or less taken care of the problem. Sabrina was pleased after that to surrender her bartered turf on the basis of a polite email or text asking if it was okay to use the house. Détente had been established.
And she rather surprisingly appreciated Prof Mac’s stash of DVDs of alleged fratboys wanking solo. She desperately hoped that it was not penis envy that made her fall into the practice of coming with them. Nor did she attribute closet homoerotic tendencies to Himself; she figured almost everyone appreciates a good cock enjoying itself.
She missed Penny. Her hurt feelings, the ones derived of real abandonment, didn’t help. Jack’s roving eyes helped even as they made her uncomfortable. Hmm. What might Jack’s cock look like, enjoying itself? She couldn’t picture it.
A string of expletives brought her back to present. Jack was wrestling some part of a motor out of the pool house. Sabrina managed to get herself up off the couch and outside. “Can I help?”
Jack gazed ruefully at the offending item. “Gotta take it in. Sorry.”
“No problem.” Then a problem occurred to her. “Erm, what does something like that cost… I mean, how do I pay?”
“Prof Mac trusts me. He has an account.”
“Oh. Great. Do you need a hand getting that to the truck?”
Jack squinted back at her, faced into the sun as he was. He shrugged. “Nah, I got this. I’d like to come in and wash my hands after I load it up.”
“No problem, let yourself in.” In Sabrina’s mind, silly porn music started. If she could have added, “and I won’t be waiting naked on the living room rug,” without making a fool of herself, she would have. She went to the kitchen and started making herself some lunch, suddenly feeling profoundly dissatisfied with her present lot in life.
A half-sandwich later, the door slid back and Jack stepped in, brown feet bare, white leg hair looking bright against his skin. Samantha pretended not to observe as he passed behind her and washed up at the kitchen sink. “It’s okay to use the towel there,” she said.
“You know, it’s much nicer with you here than that girl Sue who stayed here last time. You let me do my work.”
“You mean Daughter Princess didn’t let you?”
“Well. She had other chores for me.”
The unbidden recollection of Sue’s fake ecstasy suddenly shrieked through Sabrina’s mind’s ear.
“Chores, eh? Mean to say I’ve missed out on general handy help? It didn’t even occur to me.” Sabrina put down the mayo and turned to rest her elbows on the countertop.
The slim boy shrugged. “Looking at the washing machine. Hanging curtain rods. Carrying stuff to the garage.”
“Supervising in a string bikini.” Sabrina laughed. “Her, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Jack chuckled, “and like, this guy came over and… never mind. I shouldn’t tell tales out of school. Anyway, it’s nicer, now.”
There was a moment of strange quiet. Jack’s throat worked like he was going to say something. But he didn’t. He smiled a little half-smile and headed for the door, passing by close enough that Sabrina could smell him. Sand, ocean, sweat, sage. She shut her eyes involuntarily. “Jack…”
“Yeah?” He half turned.
She blinked slowly. “See you Thursday?”
His grin showed teeth. “If you’re here.” And then he was gone.
Fratboys wanking notwithstanding, Sabrina didn’t really do cock. She hadn’t for a long time, such a long time she wasn’t sure it still counted. And truth be told, she didn’t think about Jack nailing her per se, she thought about Jack biting her neck, licking her nipples, pushing her down and eating her senseless. Not a likely plan of action for a boy of 18 or 19. Not what they dreamed about. Well, maybe the nipples part.
Wednesday night, she went to The Refinery. She made an effort beforehand in the mirror and forced herself to go on the early side and order a drink at the bar. Two songs into the first set, she actually started to pay attention to the band. The lead singer’s voice got in and she turned around to watch them play. What she saw stunned her.
Jack towered over the dancers in black lug-soled boots, leather pants with a low rise that actually showed a faint blond line disappearing into them, and a metallic half-shirt that left a flat stomach bare. With hair gelled, silver rings and leather cuffs glinting, and fuck-all black eyeliner making his blue eyes pop, the quiet pool boy was transformed. The other three guys wore similar shades of rock-star wannabe, having a great time ruling the room.
Transfixed, Sabrina could only watch the performance helplessly, feeling her panties soaking through as Jack’s teeth bared over some awesome notes. And impossibly, he saw her across the whole crowd. They locked eyes. He winked before striding back across the stage to howl down at some dancers.
Sabrina left after the first set. She was shaken. No pool boys. No fucking musicians. No cock. No way. She was at her car, unlocking it with trembling hands.
“Hey.”
Shit. She took a deep breath and faked a smile as she turned. “Hey, you.” He was dazzling this close. Glamorous, sweaty, gleaming. And yet familiar.
“I guess you didn’t like it? You can give me the straight truth, I can take constructive criticism.”
“No, man, that was fantastic. I just… I just decided I can’t do the bar scene so soon after all. I freaked out a little.” That was true. “I didn’t know you were in a band.” Of course not. It wasn’t like they had shared. “You can sing your ass off.”
Jack looked at her, head tilted just a little. “Thanks. You look fucking awesome,” he said unabashedly. “Good enough to eat,” he husked, stepping closer, nudging her personal space.
She felt herself blush. And soak. “Thanks. Really. But look, honestly, I think you’re a little young. It makes me feel old and tarnished.”
Stepping close enough that their noses brushed, Jack murmured, “I’m not as young as you think. Don’t prejudge me.” He stepped back. “I’ll see you tomorrow. To install the pump.” And he smiled at her. No hard feelings, that smile seemed to say.
She drove home, heart pounding, cunt throbbing, tears stinging her eyes. And refused to reward her wayward self with an orgasm. She took a shower and crawled into bed thoroughly demoralized.
Thursday morning, she fretted over some work, changed out of her t-shirt and into a sweatshirt. Pulled her hair into a ponytail. Put on no makeup. Considered being gone. Couldn’t leave. She heard the pickup’s rumble. Plain Jack made his way into the backyard wearing work gloves and hauling the pump. No, not plain at all, just not glam. Wearing his usual loose basketball shirt and shorts, flip flops, he looked relaxed, normal. It helped her take a deeper breath and step out of the house. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he replied over his shoulder.
“Great show last night. Sorry I couldn’t stay.”
He nodded. “I gather you got let down hard recently.”
“Let’s say I’m not in top form. That was my first venture out at night that wasn’t taking myself to a movie alone.”
“Good for you.”
“And I didn’t mean…. What I want to say…. Shit.”
Jack snorted. He stood and stripped off his gloves, turning to face Sabrina. “Okay, listen, couple of things. I’m not good with rebounds. And I think you have me confused with someone else.”
That surprised Sabrina. “Who?”
Jack dropped the gloves at his feet. “A boy.” Reaching out, Jack snagged one of Sabrina’s hands and unceremoniously thrust it into the baggy rise of cargo shorts.
Sabrina squeaked with surprise at being grabbed, and then sucked in air as her fingers encountered prominent bone and confirmed her mistake. Jack didn’t let Sabrina linger but pulled her hand away again, using that leverage to back Sabrina several paces against the sliding door. Then Jack bent to join their mouths.
In a shock of awareness, Jack made absolute sense. Sabrina tilted her head to get a better angle. Her hands slid up Jack’s arms and she pressed close. That made Jack shudder a little. Those long fingers squeezed Sabrina’s waist and then shifted upwards, hesitated.
Jack broke the kiss, rubbed her nose along Sabrina’s. “Mmm,” she said, tongue flicking out over her bottom lip for a moment. Dusky lashes flickered. Her fingers twitched on Sabrina’s ribs. “I have to finish here and I’ve got an eleven o’clock appointment two neighborhoods over. Can I come back later? Say three or so?”
Sabrina nodded, couldn’t do more than that. When Jack smiled a little and moved away, she wondered how she didn’t see it before. Well, actually, it wasn’t at all obvious. Jack was angular, had a guy’s movements. Not butch, not affected, just not regular gal. It wasn’t a matter of androgyny put on for effect. Sabrina went in the house to let Jack work. The alternative was to dive on… her. It took some getting used to, that mental shift.
When the doorbell rang at two minutes to three, Sabrina forced herself to walk casually to answer it. Jack was on the doorstep in jeans-low-rise jeans-and a blue button down shirt.
Resting her cheek on her hand, half hidden by the door, Sabrina smiled. “You changed.”
“So did you,” Jack grinned back, eyes dipping to Sabrina’s breasts. “Although I liked the baggy sweatshirt. Kinda hide-and-seek.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
It made Sabrina laugh. “C’mon in.” She left the safety of the doorway.
“So what I said about rebounds. I think it was presumptuous.”
“Hell yes it was. I don’t mind. Let’s get a presumptuous age question out of the way.”
“Twenty three. Graduated college last year. I’m bio female and I identify as a woman. Mostly. If women who don’t behave in their proper roles count.”
“I’m twenty eight. Bio female. Big mouthed feminist. Always wanted to be able to do the Marlene Dietrich thing for formal occasions but I wasn’t thin enough to make the damn suit work.” She swallowed hard and it didn’t stop the stream of words. “Apparently, I enjoy porn with men in it; I especially like watching men jack off. But cock isn’t my thing in the flesh, and funny thing, I just couldn’t picture yours.”
Jack laughed out loud. “Okay, let’s see… After my safe sex checklist compliance, I dig eating pussy and I’m good at it. If it’s confession time? I also sometimes really enjoy receiving penetration.” She shrugged. “It bugs some women.”
“Um, does it have to look like a penis?” Sabrina giggled.
“I don’t care what the fuck it looks like as long as it fills me up,” Jack growled a little. “I prefer women, but…” she hesitated, ran a nervous hand through her hair, “I did fuck my rhythm guitarist a couple weeks ago. He caught me at a weak moment. Just want to be honest.”
They hadn’t moved within five paces of each other yet. “Glad we got all that out of the way,” Sabrina said, smiling. She had her arms folded over her chest and tapped her fingers nervously on an elbow.
Jack’s eyes dipped again, briefly, just a flick. “Can I come a little closer?”
“You can come a lot closer,” Sabrina answered, but her arms didn’t unfold.
Jack stepped up. She touched the sides of Sabrina’s arms with her palms, grazing upwards, and her thumbs brushed the outer curve of Sabrina’s breasts, taking a small but deliberate liberty. Her in-breath was long and audible. “Damn. I am so glad you came into the bar last night. I never, never would have dared otherwise.”
“Really. You checked out my boobs like, a hundred times.”
Jack flinched in mock horror. “Sorry. I’m fond of them.”
“’S okay. I thought you were the fucking pool boy. It fit.” They both grinned.
“And I thought you liked boys.”
“Touché. How about we start with the couch? We can’t screw that up too badly.” She led Jack to sit down, and just as she was about to sit next to her, a firm hand on her hip stopped her.
“Sit on my lap,” Jack coaxed, softly. Sabrina hesitated. Jack smiled, shyly. “Yes, I’m moving fast out here in the real world, but it’s been such a long time in my head.”
Sabrina stood looking down at Jack for a long moment. Jack was sitting knees splayed, relaxed back, shirt playfully three buttons open. She straddled Jack’s lap, catching the back of the sofa and one of Jack’s shoulders with her hands. Slowly, she lowered herself, letting her chest linger at eye level, and settled firmly across Jack’s thighs.
Jack exhaled long and slow as her hands drifted to Sabrina’s ass and rested there. “Wow,” she murmured, squeezing lightly. “I’ve missed short-shorts Tuesdays. You’re just… lush.” Her eyes shifted to Sabrina’s face, the blue of them piercing in the shady room. “I like lush.” It came across as if a lioness had said out loud, “I like zebra.”
Sabrina felt herself blush, thrown off. Not usually a blusher and that made twice in less than 24. Feeling the need to take the situation down a less intense path, Sabrina kissed her then, tasting in a teasing, flirty pattern, just like in her flights of fancy through the window. She felt Jack’s fingers tighten as she was seated more firmly against Jack’s groin. A low growl began under Jack’s breath. The lioness was not playful. Lives might be lost. Safe was a quiet house and a bad novel. This wasn’t safe. This was adventure.
Sliding her lips free, Sabrina sat up straighter, which just happened to rock her clit against Jack’s zipper. She drew her own thin t-shirt up, drawing Jack’s eyes along with its edge, up over her bra, the one with dense white embroidery over the palest blue, the one that Penny told her took her breasts from “generous” to “land of plenty.” She could feel Jack tremble underneath her.
Funny how annoyed she had been in high school at boys obsessed with getting next to her boobs. Funny, because she was melting down her thighs at Jack’s entranced response. Sabrina traced the scalloped edge of the bra with her fingers, up and down, up and down, raising light gooseflesh on herself, feeling her nipples harden against the pressure of the last garment between her and an eager mouth. Jack swallowed, keeping her hands firmly on Sabrina’s ass, then caught her own bottom lip between her teeth. Her breath hissed a little.
“Do you…,” Sabrina began as she dipped her hands down inside the cups, “…want,” she continued, now slowly scooping, then pausing the movement mid-lift, “to suck my tits?”
“Please,” Jack whispered.
Sabrina lifted them free, cupping, offering. She hadn’t considered her breasts much a part of her erogenous response before, but right now, she wanted them greedily consumed. Jack obliged. She cradled them together, licked all across the rise, sucked the nipples, back and forth, thumbing the nipple she wasn’t sucking at any given moment, laved the undersides, and kneaded. Sabrina had her own hands locked on Jack’s shoulders. She wasn’t sure how long they clinched like that, building the sensation until she wished she could come through her nipples, shooting like a guy. That crazy, fleeting thought made her groan out loud.
In one strong movement, Jack pushed and rolled and had Sabrina under her, mouth never pausing. She locked one leg over Sabrina’s and fucked against her, cunt to cunt. Sabrina distantly reflected on how jeans are never really comfortable, but they do create the most helpful friction, seams in the handiest spots. She grabbed a cushion that was not comfortably behind her head and lifted her hips, lifted Jack too, actually, and stashed it underneath.
“Fuck, yeah,” Jack said wetly against Sabrina’s skin, then her mouth closed again, tongue giving previews of its further talents for use later elsewhere. The world behind Sabrina’s eyes had shifted into the ultraviolet. She found the rhythm of Jack’s circles and shifted lazily in counterpoint. Usually, she needed to participate a little more to get herself where she wanted to go, but hot and wet and rough all conspired together and she yelled out the sharp orgasm once, twice and then groaned through clenched teeth so that she wouldn’t completely miss what was happening with Jack.
Jack’s hips were rolling, and then she was shrieking into her mouthful, throat sounding so rough it might tear. Sabrina held on tight, as though Jack might fly off if she didn’t hold her down. Jack slowed, subsided, and collapsed. She released her various grips on Sabrina’s flesh and started laughing, hysterically. “Oh my god,” she managed.
“You’re still fully clothed,” Sabrina giggled. “Every stitch.” She pushed Jack’s hair back off her sweaty forehead.
“But I had you inside me,” Jack said with a saucy smile, then laid her head down, nuzzling, and then drowsing.
Sabrina, drifting, watched the pool reflections on the ceiling. It seemed likely that there would be time later for checklists, for explorations, for lots more orgasms, and for getting to know Jack. In the end, an unwanted, cliché fantasy had been knocked on its ass and made right and wholesome. She felt a silly smile happen just as she fell asleep.
*******