Chapter Fifteen

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This is unbeta-ed for the moment, so all errors are mine.




Chapter Fifteen


APOV

I was starting to realize that what Jeremy and I did together was very… simple.  Innocent, even.  I guess I’d always thought about it that way; that had been the only thing sexual in my life that was real or pure until now.  But it was also completely one-sided.  Jeremy couldn’t ever get hard in the normal way, and I think we were both too young to realize that you could get off other ways.  I didn’t have the same experience I had now, either.  I knew a fuckton of ways to get guys off.  

It wasn’t really about that though.  Obviously Tyler either had a lot of experience, or he just learned a lot some other way.  But it was the first time I hadn’t thought about nothing when I got somebody off.  I thought about Tyler and what he might like and how it would feel, and I tried to give him back what he’d given me.  If the way he was currently completely passed out under me was any evidence, I must have done a good job.  

I smirked looking up at him from my spot on his chest.  He couldn’t even talk when it was over.  Of course, he’d been extremely focused on me for, like, ever, too.  He hadn’t thought about himself at all, or if he did, he’d done it alone.  I’d never met someone who’d put themselves second to me before.  And because he did that, I wanted him to feel just as good as I did.  He looked at me sometimes, like after he’d come when he was all tired and satisfied, like he wanted to say something to me, but didn’t then.  It wasn’t because he wasn’t a talker; he talked to me more than any other guy I’d ever known.  But it was like he didn’t know how I’d take it or he didn’t think it was the right time.  It made me curious sometimes what was going on in his head when he looked like that, but I never asked.  Now he’d just looked drained, but happily so, slow and sluggish from coming, and happy to cuddle with me.  

Cuddle with me.  Jesus Christ, I cuddled now.  And I liked it!  It was him though; it was Tyler.  I don’t think I would have liked cuddling with someone else.  Most guys I met didn’t put off a cuddling vibe.  Not that Tyler did either, but he was… he was sensitive.  And I’d spent my entire life without sensitivity, so having this balance with Tyler where it was ok to be…all touch-y feel-y, while not being love-y dove-y at the same time, was so…nice.  And I actually felt like I understood the difference.  That there even could be a difference.  

I couldn’t decide what I liked the best with him.  Sexually, it felt like he’d opened a whole new dimension to me, because I think I removed myself so much from anything with sex with another person for so long, if he hadn’t been so patient and willing to take things so slowly, I wouldn’t have been able to connect with him any better than I had anyone else.  I liked his mouth and hands on my tits but his fingers inside me were better, and imagining his mouth and fingers together on my pussy was almost too much to hope for, but it was so the next fucking thing I was asking for.  His fingers were long and they knew exactly where to move.  The spot inside me that he found was completely shocking in the best way, and that’s sort of what it felt like being with Tyler all the time.  Constant shocks but better than I ever could have thought of.  

It was kinda fucking weird that lying here naked with him didn’t seem weird itself.  Given that I’d been sort of—I don’t even know what to call it—it wasn’t that I was afraid of Tyler seeing me naked, and what he’d said to me about how I go someplace else in my head when I strip made sense, but, I dunno if it was just nervousness or if I was worried about what he’d think of me.  It was just the first time that I’d ever been uncomfortable or unsure of myself with my body.  It wasn’t a worth thing, I didn’t have some weird psycho thing about not being good enough, really, or maybe that was part of it, I don’t really know, but I think it was more just…doubt.  I think I had a little bit of doubt, and sometimes, it was always there with him because I couldn’t work out how I’d gotten so lucky with him.  So I think it all just kind of hit me at that moment, and he fixed it right away of course, in that awesome way he had where he just seemed to make everything make sense immediately.  In a strange way, that I did feel like that almost made it easier for me—it was so different; feeling that way was so different and new and strange, that it had to mean this was something completely out of the ordinary for me.  It had to mean that it meant something more.  And after that, I didn’t care as much.  I knew he was accepting me, and he liked my body.  And it felt almost natural with him.  

Cuddling wasn’t a big part of prostitution.  Occasionally I got the dude that for whatever reason wanted to spend the night with me, or paid extra to do some weird shit after orgasm, but most were done the minute they came.  They paid and everything was over.  But even the dudes that paid for me to stay over, there was no cuddling.  There was no sleeping all tangled together.  I stayed on my side and he stayed on his, and there was no crossing that invisible line, and there was no actual sleeping on my part, because the asshole could rip me off that way.  Lying here with Tyler, feeling my head move up and down with the air moving in and out of his chest was so…calming.  And peaceful.  My room had never felt this peaceful.  I’d never felt this peaceful.  And it really had nothing to do with getting off all those times.  That felt great of course, too.  But it was just nice to share the bed with him, and to share it just because we both wanted to be there.  It was nice to feel his skin under my fingers, to feel how warm his body was, to feel his hand curled around my back, so heavy and big and comfortable.  This felt comfortable.  Maybe more comfortable than it should have been.  Knowing he’d be there when I woke up was a promise I’d never had before.  

I’d started to trust him a while ago.  He was working his way in to something much more though.  A level that no one else had gotten freely from me since my mother died.  I didn’t spend a lot of time thinking about her anymore.  That had been most of my childhood up to a certain point.  The idea that your mother had been with you one second and then gone the next wasn’t one that I really understood at four.  People tell you all kinds of shit; like she’d gone to heaven, or she wasn’t going to be around anymore; whatever it took to get you to stop asking questions, basically.  And really, I think things had been good when I lived with my grandmother, but it had all gone downhill from there.  By eight, I had a much better understanding of what it meant to be an orphan that no one wanted to be responsible for.  And about that time, I got really angry.  And I stayed that way for years.  Because I hadn’t done anything to get thrown into the foster system.  It just worked out that who they gave me to hadn’t wanted me around.  No matter how angry I got though, I was never angry at my mom.  I thought about her constantly; trying to remember what she was like, asking what she was like; trying to answer questions that people asked or that I asked myself when it was time to draw pictures of your family and shit like that.  I realized sometime in my teens that I’d never be able to answer them because I’d never gotten the chance to know her.  And somewhere around that time, I sort of just accepted that, and then I wasn’t angry anymore.  If I really thought about it, that was around the same time I ran away from Florida, and maybe it was less letting go of the anger and just accepting that I’d always be disconnected.  I suppose that made my career choice easier, too.  I’d already learned how to just let go, how to make myself somewhere else in my head.  The switch to being a hooker wasn’t that difficult then.  

I’d never shown anyone her picture.  Not even Jordan knew I had it.  Doug and Lois hadn’t seen it.  I’d never thought to show anyone else.  But I wanted Tyler to know what she looked like, to have some image in his head when I talked about her because he was the only one who really cared to ask.  And because he’d lost someone, it felt easier to show him.  Like he already knew how I’d feel about it or how special that one thing can become.  I really had forgotten I had her book.  It was just one of those things that always came with me; it was always in the grab-and-go bag if shit went south.  That probably added to the beat up look it had, always being stuffed somewhere.  New York was the first time it had an actual home, an actual place on a shelf.  I’d never felt settled enough anywhere else to take it out of the bag.  

It was funny that of all the books on the shelf, that had been the one he picked to occupy himself.  

Telling Tyler the truth was always so easy because he never made me feel stupid or beneath him or that what I said didn’t totally make sense.  So telling him the reason why I never read just sort of tumbled out like most shit did.  And like usual, he just took it in stride and then turned it around for me again.  He had a habit of doing that.  And I found, for like the first time ever, that reading didn’t sound so bad.  I was actually looking forward to reading it with him, and I couldn’t say I’d ever said that before.  I never wanted to read things; not because I didn’t like to read, but because it took me so much longer to put everything together.  It was just easier to never start.  That’s why recipe books were so much easier.  That’s why I liked them.  They gave you a simple list to follow, and instructions that were to the point.  Everything was laid out.  There wasn’t anything to put together if you followed the directions.  

I knew the bookmark had to be hers, and was probably in her handwriting, but because I’d never read it, the lines seemed random and nothing for me to connect with.  Our handwriting was nothing alike; hers was neat and pretty, and mine was anything but that.  I wondered after we read it if I’d feel like I knew something else about her, or feel similar, feel like those words were important enough to write down.  Or I wondered if we would have thought the same things about those lines. 

I had no idea what to expect, but I as I drifted off on Tyler’s chest, I was actually excited to find out. 

~ ~ ~

My nap was shorter than Tyler’s.  When I woke up again, he was still sleeping, and it was kind of funny how it seemed like we kept switching.  I didn’t feel like moving.  It was warm here with him and I didn’t want that connection to end.  My hand had landed on his chest while I was sleeping, with his on top of mine.  That made me smile because it seemed like we’d both done it without knowing. 

I realized I had sort of a perfect opportunity here to look at him totally unnoticed.  He would never know and I wouldn’t have to worry about him seeing me look at him.  Hey, I’m sure he checked out the goods when he had the chance, too.  He’d covered me up with the blanket after all.  Of course, I hadn’t been completely naked at the time either.  So if I was quiet enough, and kept moving to a minimum, he’d just go on sleeping none the wiser. 

I had a nice view of his chest already from where I was and my opinion of it hadn’t changed or anything.  I carefully pulled my hand out from under his and was happy that he didn’t move or seem to notice.  Once my hand was free, I had to stop myself from running it over the planes of his chest, over his nipples, over the hair that tickled against my skin.  I realized this was kind of a bad idea when most of my looking just made me want to touch or kiss or lick.  I found his shoulders oddly attractive and distracting, and I think it was because my head rested somewhere between his chest and shoulders.  If I turned my head up, I could see the stubble that had filled out during the day.  He looked incredibly good with scruff.  Some people looked dirty or skeevy with the scruffy look, but not Tyler.  Tyler looked like he was made to have it.  It was seriously fucking sexy.  And I’d never really gotten to fully appreciate it before.  Sure, he had stubble other times we were together, but I was never this close or felt it.  I had to force my hand away again because I really wanted to feel the roughness of the short hair on my fingers.  I don’t think I’d ever in my life referred to a guy as handsome, but the word wouldn’t get out of my head when thinking about Tyler.  At the same time, there was a—I didn’t know what word to use, because graceful and delicate sounded lame or gay, and he was neither; sensitive worked, but I didn’t really mean it in that same way.  Whatever the word, he could be both.  He had the best of both—rough and sensitive at the same time.  His body fit him perfectly because he had the solidness and broadness of a guy, but his hands were incredibly gentle and patient.  I liked the differences; I liked the fact that he was complicated and still completely simple for me to understand.  It felt like we fit together that way.  Because I was or could be completely cold to the outside world if I needed to be; I could get lost in my head and do whatever I needed to, but I was still just a girl inside, and being with him was the first time I felt like someone realized that, and was still able to see me in here.  

His jaw was positively fuckable.  And his mouth was perfect.  Perfect shape.  Perfect feel.  Perfect when he kissed me, and when it was on my body.  I wanted to feel his mouth on me with the stubble there, to feel the burn and the scratchiness against my skin.  Watching him, it felt like if someone were looking at us, it would look like we belonged here together, like we fit.  

I couldn’t remember the last time I felt like I fit somewhere.  

I liked fitting with him.

Naturally thoughts of fitting with him made me want to pull back the covers.  We weren’t totally covered to begin with, but enough that if I wanted to take a peek, I had to uncover us.  I’d seen a ton of cock in my life given what I’d done for a living.  Huge, big, medium, small, tiny, miniscule, White, Black, Latino, Asian, cut, uncut, skinny, thick, veined, bent, straight.  Every color, type, size, shape, culture, guys who didn’t speak English, guys with accents, piercings, tattoos, clean, dirty, shaved, hairy, big balls, tiny balls, one ball.  The list was endless and I’d seen them all.  I literally think over the course of the years I was a whore, I had seen every cock imaginable only to be surprised one random Tuesday night to find something I’d never seen before.  Dudes were weird.  There was just no two ways about it.  And it sort of got to be a game in a way: What could possibly shock Allison tonight?  And in the end, even that got to be boring, because they were all the same.  No matter what size or shape or color or what country the guy came from, what he wanted was the same.  

I’d only given Tyler two handjobs; one of which had been while he was still wearing pants, and this one, I was more focused on what I was doing to him than thoroughly checking him out.  He was neatly trimmed and I’d expected no less, uncut, and that always made it easier to get a guy off—no lube was required.  Ideas also forced their way immediately because the head of his cock would be more sensitive, and I could do a lot of things he’d appreciate with that knowledge.  He filled my hand, and was big enough without being huge.  Now his cock was resting in the groove between his hip and his thigh and I caught myself running my hand down his stomach, stopping before I reached it.  

I realized suddenly that I really wanted to touch Tyler.  I wanted Tyler.  I don’t think I ever wanted a guy before.  I wanted to know what it would feel like to fuck him.  I actually thought about that.  I never thought about guys like that before.  I never had anyone that it seemed possible with.  I wanted to know what he’d taste like, and how he’d fill out in my mouth if I was blowing him.  I wanted to try tricks that I knew would get him off, not because I wanted him to get off and get out, but because I wanted him to feel good.  Just the idea that I wanted at all… that was kind of a big—

The hand on my back moved to cup the back of my head. “You perving on my cock?”

I jumped.  Literally jolted on his chest.  He tightened his grip on me.  “Sorry.  I didn’t mean to scare you.”  

I hadn’t even realized he’d woken up.  I must have been really into my…thought process.  I chuckled. “Uhm…kinda?”

The hand that had been resting on top of mine moved hair out of my face so he could see me better.  “Feel free to perv all you want.”

I looked up at him.  He looked drowsy, but awake, and he was smiling at me.  Content.  He looked like I felt right now.  It was odd how he could make me feel that way in such a short amount of time.  

“You totally checked me out, too.  Don’t even deny it.”

His smile turned into more of a smirk. “Well, only the top half of you was uncovered, so I think you have an advantage.”

I shrugged. 

“So, is it approved then, or you wanna check it out some more?”

“I think I’ll have to check it out more, later.  I’ll let you know if it’s passed inspection then.”

He laughed. “Looking forward to it.”

“Me, too.”  I sort of meant to say that in my head, and instead it snuck out.  I was smiling though, and when I risked a glance up, he was, too. 

“You work tomorrow?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No.  You?”

“Yeah, but only until three.  You wanna have dinner?”

“You want me to make dinner?”

“No, I want to take you out to dinner.”

I smiled. “Ok.”  Who would ever say no to eating out over cooking?

“You pick.”

I nodded. “I’ll think about it.”  He gasped and I looked up at him. “What?”

“Did you just agree to think about it and not say ‘I don’t care, Tyler’ or ‘I don’t know where to pick, Tyler?’  Because the orgasm may have made me delusional and I’m hearing things.”

I brought my hand back up his stomach slowly until I got to his chest and then totally pinched and twisted his nipple. 

“OW!”

I giggled. “If you ever want that cock inspection to continue, you’ll watch it.”

He covered the nipple with his hand and scowled at me for all of a few seconds.  “In the interest of the cock inspection, I’ll let it go.”

“Good plan.”

“So how long were you checking out the goods before I woke up?”

“Not long.  I slept for a while, too.”  I paused, watching him for a second.  “I…I like sleeping with you.” 

I was going to fix that—fix what I really meant.  Because I didn’t mean sleeping with him, like, sex, I just meant I liked sleeping with him there with me.  Just sleeping.  But I didn’t need to.

“I like sleeping with you, too,” he said, and I think he knew exactly what I’d meant.  “Have you had that before?”

I shook my head. 

“It’s nice just having someone there sometimes.   Just being close,” he said, quietly.  “You miss it when you don’t have it.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t know what I was missing really, but yeah, I’d miss it now.”

“You haven’t been close to a lot of people, have you?”

I shook my head again.

He tightened his grip on me, pulling me closer to him.  “Well, I’m glad you are with me now.”

I let out a breath against his chest. “Yeah, me, too,” I said quietly.  “Does it show?” I asked.

“Does what show?”

“That I haven’t…done this before.”  I wasn’t sure why I asked that.  I didn’t really want to know the answer.

“No,” he said quietly.  “You’re good with close.  At least with me you are.  I was just curious.  I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, I know,” I said back.  It wasn’t that I was nervous about doing stuff right or wrong with him anymore.  I just wondered sometimes if the way I reacted was normal or what he was used to or whatever.  

His thumb ran up and down my arm slowly and I found it incredibly relaxing.  “You still wanna read today?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

“Sure,” I said.  “I’d like that.” 

“Yeah, we should probably get dressed, though.  I don’t think my retention or explanation will be very good if you’re naked next to me.  I can tell you I won’t be thinking about the seagulls much.”

I snorted. “Yeah, ok.  You’re probably right.”  I shifted away from his chest, sitting up halfway and he leaned over and pressed a kiss to my lips.  I still wasn’t used to that, really.  I mean, if we were fooling around, kissing was normal now, but just…out of the blue or for no reason, it threw me a little.  I wished my fucking reactions wouldn’t have been so obvious sometimes.  I’d just got done asking that goddamn question.  I was so obvious.

“That ok?” he asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, it’s great.  It’s me; I’m just not used to that kind of…”

“Affection?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess.”  I smiled. “I think it’ll just take me a while to get used to it.  I like it,” I added quickly, I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea.  “I’m just not used to it being given,” I let my hand flail, “that freely or something.”

He nodded.  “I’m good with freely given affection.”

I smiled. “Good.  That’s good.”

“Anytime you wanna practice, you just let me know.  Or I’ll spring it on ‘ya.”

I chuckled. “Yeah, that’d be awesome.  Thanks.”

He leaned over again.  More free affection.  “Anytime.”

These kisses were soft and kinda made me want to take deep, sigh-filled breaths.  I liked when he rested his forehead against mine after.  There was just something so…gentle about it.  He pulled back with a sigh, and that made me smile, because he must have felt the same way, too.  He grabbed his pants with the boxer-briefs still tucked inside of them and stepped into them before searching for his shirt on the bed.  And while I dressed, I realized that I kinda just wanted to undress him again.  It was such an odd feeling for me to want to do that to anyone.  

We were mostly quiet while we got dressed, but we smiled at each other a lot when our eyes met.  

“You wanna read in here or somewhere else?”

I really didn’t want to read with him in front of Jordan.  It wasn’t that she cared, but I just didn’t want to.  I didn’t want to explain why we were reading it or show her the picture or anything; I just wanted that for me.  Just for Tyler and me.  “I’d rather read here,” I answered.

He nodded and grabbed the book from the nightstand, crawling back onto the bed and settled against the wall.  I joined him a few seconds later and sat next to him, but I wasn’t as close as we had been.  He turned his head to look at me and then he looked at the space and jerked his head. “C’mere.”

I smiled and scooted closer and eventually laid my head against his shoulder.  He smiled down at me and pressed a kiss into my forehead.  “K, so how do you wanna do this?  You want to read and I can tell you shit if you don’t know what they mean or you miss something?”

Oh, shit.  I hadn’t really thought about that.  I didn’t want to read it.  I thought he was doing the reading and I could just listen.  I liked reading out loud even less than I liked reading itself.  I felt stupid when I read out loud; like I was back in some fucking classroom with kids who didn’t even know who the fuck I was, but were just as happy to be dickheads anyway.  No.  The thought of reading to him was really fucking scary.  Like, break-out-in-a-cold-sweat kind of scary.  “N-no,” fuck me, I was already stumbling and I hadn’t even read anything.  “I think it’d be better if you read.  I think I pick up more that way.”  That wasn’t really a total lie.  I did think that I learned better if I listened or watched than read shit.  

I must have looked as scared as I felt inside because his hand reached up to touch my cheek. “Stop me if you miss something.”

I nodded, relieved that he wasn’t going to push it.  Maybe some day I’d be ready for that, but it wasn’t today.  

And then he just started reading.  No more questions or anything; just read the title of the book and told me it was Part One and then words just flew out.  

It was morning, and the new sun sparkled gold across the ripples of a gentle sea.  A mile from shore a fishing boat chummed the water, and the word for Breakfast Flock flashed through the air, till a crowd of a thousand seagulls came to dodge and fight for bits of food.  It was another busy day beginning.  But way off alone, out by himself beyond boat and shore, Jonathan Livingston Seagull was practicing.  A hundred feet in the sky he lowered his webbed feet, lifted his beak, and strained to hold a painful hard twisting curve through his wings.  

I loved the rhythm of Tyler’s voice.  He was a really good reader.  And I was really glad he asked if I wanted to read or if he should.  His pace was smooth and not too fast, but not too slow either; and he’d stop and let me ask him anything I wanted, even if it was a stupid thing to ask or something that I probably should have gotten.  He explained it anyway.  His voice was quiet and really soothing.  

Tyler was right, too; there was a lot of shit in the book about wings and wind speed and air currents or some shit.  Stuff that I really didn’t care to understand even if it was in the book.  It didn’t seem important.  And I found that if I followed along where he was reading, the words were much easier; they made more sense.  Reading made more sense if I could follow what he was already doing.  And the longer he read, the easier it seemed for me.  It was the first time I’d ever remembered enjoying reading, even if I wasn’t doing it all myself.  It was the first time that I didn’t feel like I was having a hard time getting the idea of the story.  There were pictures of seagulls every few pages of reading, and I realized that Tyler had been holding the book purposely far over so that I could see not only the pictures but the words, too.  

We read all of Part One and then stopped for the day.  And I felt strangely successful that we’d made it through a part of the book and I hadn’t been frustrated or felt stupid.  I realized that he’d done the reading, but I felt like I still had a part in reading it.  I don’t think I really understood yet why my mother liked the book so much, or what the quotes meant, but I wasn’t dreading reading the rest and finding out either.  

I made us dinner, and was sort of disappointed that he had to work the next day when I was off.  I didn’t always get a lot of days off in a row together.  It would have been nice to spend another whole day with him, but I didn’t want him to blow off work, and I kinda thought he would have if I would have said something.  

I thought about asking if he wanted to sleep over, but I couldn’t come up with a decent way of asking without it sounding desperate or stupid.  So when he said, “I should go.” I sighed, but I didn’t ask him to stay.  

He kissed me twice.  Once at the door while I held it open, and once when he leaned back in from the hall.  He didn’t want to leave either.  

“Goodnight, Allison.”

“Night, Tyler.”

After he left, I really fucking wished I would have asked him to stay.  It was weird that the bed felt emptier when he’d only been in it for such a short time, wasn’t it?




One (Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) |   Two   |  Three  |  Four  |  Five  |  Six  |  Seven  |  Eight  |  Nine  |  Ten  |  Eleven  |  Twelve  |  Thirteen  |  Fourteen  |  Fifteen  |  Sixteen  |