Beyond The Ghosts (Legacy Falls Project) (10 page)

After having my fill of Christina again then filling her to the hilt of me until she tapped out from oversensitivity, she laid on my chest fast asleep. Her muffled soft snores purred against my ribs, tickling me, bringing a smile to my face. I wished I was in arms reach of my cell phone so I could record the sound and tease her about it later, but I didn't want to move and disturb her. 

Sassy, snarky Christina was a gentle, passive kitten in the bedroom. Every touch, every kiss was met with a response—whether a flinch, a moan or a shudder, her body reacted beautifully. I couldn't stop touching her, trying to remember every nuance of her body. 

I was so comfortable and felt myself growing sleepy. When Christina changed positions and rolled over to face the edge of the bed on her side, I startled awake and missed the connection. As much as I wanted to be the big spoon and curl around her small frame, I was afraid of falling asleep and having a dreaded repeat of the incident at my sister's apartment. 

Before I did end up falling asleep, I eased out of her bed, pulling the covers over her exposed shoulder, and gathered my scattered clothes from the floor to dress in the living room. After pulling on my sneakers, I made sure her door was locked behind me and headed home. As much as I wanted to stay in bed with Christina, I never wanted to hurt her, and I couldn't take the chance. It was just safer that way. 

I pulled away from Christina's apartment building and my sister's car smelled like popcorn. At that point, I didn't think I would ever be able to separate the smell of popcorn from sex with Christina. Beth left the leftover popcorn tub on the passenger seat and the buttery smell made my stomach growl. I licked my lips and tasted her on my mouth and was hard again. 

I quietly let myself into the house trying my best not to wake my parents. It's not like I had a curfew, but I still didn’t want to disturb them. I brought the bucket of leftover popcorn to my room, and after kicking off my sneakers and jeans, I munched on the salty, butter-laden popcorn in bed. 

Christina tasted salty and the more popcorn I ate, the harder my cock became. I licked my fingers and could still taste her on my hands. I sucked each digit and reached into my boxer briefs and clutched my cock. I didn't know what her mouth would feel like sucking my hardness but I tasted her mingled with the salt and butter from the popcorn. I stroked my cock, fisting it hard at the crest rubbing the sensitive underside then over the tip.  

All I needed to send me over the edge was remembering how her hips came off the couch when I sucked hard on her clit and stuck the two fingers I had in my mouth curled inside her. Her light brown hair was a halo of beauty around her face as she thrashed her head back and forth while her pleasure soaked my hand. She screamed my name to stop through the giggles as her oversensitive flesh sent her into a giggle fit. I wanted her to make that sound over and over. 

It had been a long time since I had been with a woman, but I thought after cumming twice I didn't have anything left in me. I was wrong. Third time was a charm and I fell asleep a happy man with a bed full of spilled popcorn. 

I woke up when the sun blazing through my open curtains. I rolled over away from the brightness burning my eyes and kernels crunched underneath me. I hadn't moved. No nightmares. I was in a popcorn outline. Maybe the secret to keeping the nightmares at bay was sex. I couldn't argue with that prescription if that was the case. Grabbing a handful of popcorn, I popped it in my mouth and crawled out of bed. 

The house was quiet in the early morning. My parents had not ventured downstairs yet but the smell of coffee wafted up the staircase further luring me out of my comfy bed before necessary. The calmness and relaxation was a rare commodity. I poured myself a cup and sat at the kitchen table grabbing the stack of mail and the day before’s newspaper to occupy me. Most of the stack was junk mail and occupant advertisements but the small space reserving block print of the APO caught my attention. 

The familiar name made me pause. Pierson. I ripped open the edge of the envelope and removed the single piece of tablet paper with his familiar, small, block print. 

15May2016

Dear Toledo, 

It's been a long time, and I heard you were back home. We should meet up one day soon and have a drink. I will be passing through the area next week. Goemans’ body is being returned to his mother. I’m going be a pallbearer. Text me since your response will probably not arrive before I leave. 

Hurrah,

Sgt Pierson

Cell 917-555-1992

Goemans wasn’t directly under my command but a bunkmate of Pierson’s. They were from the same town and enlisted together as battle buddies. Pierson was an asshole but we served together. For that asshole to reach out to me of all people, it meant that he was alone. I remembered Goemans being the comedian, and Pierson was just his always angry friend. Goemans was the buffer that softened Pierson's actions when he lashed out—the comic relief. I finished my first cup and refilled my mug before returning to my bedroom to text Pierson. 

I sank into my bed with my back against the headboard.
Where do you start a wretched conversation?
 

Me: Hey Pierson. Got your letter today. This is my cell- SFC Toledo

Pierson: Hey sorry to be the bearer of bad news.

Me: It happens.

Pierson: I driving there. I’m not excited to be on a plane yet

Me: When is the funeral?

Pierson: Goemans is still stuck in Germany. Within a month.

Me: Stop off here. We can have that drink.

Pierson: It will be a few days. Have the bottle ready.

I stared at my screen and re-read his message.
Crap. We are gonna need a whole bottle?  This can’t be good.

Knocks at my door broke me from my thoughts. 

“Peter, are you awake?” my mom called through the door. 

“Come in. I’m up.”

My mom opened the door slowly and poked her head around. 

“I see you found the coffee.”

“Sure did. Thanks, Mom.”

“I hope you didn’t drink it all. The ladies from the Rotary are coming this morning.”

“Ooooo, treats!” My mother shook her head at me. 

“I was just warning you. Your father is headed to the shop, of course.”

“He may have mentioned his dislike for the cackling hens of the Rotary.”

“Well, the dedication of Pleasant Street Station’s memorial plaque is only ten days away. It’s crunch time. So, I guess I won’t be seeing much of your father.”

“I’m gonna need bigger pants.” My mother laughed and closed the door behind herself on her way out. 

If the Rotary would be there, so would Christina
. I better shower.
 

I took my time in the shower, making sure I was well groomed and ready for company. I didn't want to be the topic of discussion for the cackling hens of the Rotary. I felt bad about leaving in the middle of the night but I couldn't take a chance of another nightmare after things went so well. 

I woke up that morning rested. It was the first time in a long while I hadn't had a nightmare. I guess I had Christina to thank for that. My nightmares ranged from full terrors to insomnia—no matter what, it all equated to no sleep.

Apparently, the Rotary didn't need as much sleep as soldiers. The ladies flocked to our house and were fully assembled before 9 AM. I heard my dad cussing his way down the stairs on his way to the shop. My father's contribution to the Rotary was my mom and an ad for the shop in whatever publication they ever asked them to donate to.

The Rotary was dedicating a plaque to veterans for the Pleasant Street Station anniversary celebration. The station had undergone major renovations and was the epicenter of our small town. The station house was there before settlers were making their way west to the coast. First carrying cargo, then carrying people—Legacy Falls was built around the station. 

We didn't have an airport; we had Pleasant Street train station. I wasn’t sure why our small town had so many veterans in it, but year after year soldiers came and went on that train taking them to destinations foreign and domestic. The Rotary was dedicating the station to them for their service on Memorial Day marking over two hundred years of military service.

Every seat at our dining room table was filled and folding chairs filled the spaces to accommodate all the ladies. Papers were spread from one end of the table to the other outlining every detail of the celebration. From seating charts, escape routes, evacuation plans, and cue cards for the guest speakers, the ladies had it covered.

“Peter, come take a look,” my mother called from the dining room as I tried to sneak into the kitchen to grab a snack.

“I don't know what I'm looking at, Mom.”

“The celebration, of course. You're going to be there, correct?” my mother gave me a look over her reading glasses for public confirmation.

“Of course, Mom, just tell me when and where, and I'll be there.”

“I just don't want you to be there. This is for you and your men. We need you to come in uniform.”

“Um, uh … Yeah, sure, I think that can be arranged.”

“And get a haircut. You're starting to look scruffy.”

My mother went back to her lady friends, and I hurried past her before she could wrangle me for anything else. I walked right into the open refrigerator door. 

“Ouch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—” Christina stood there with her Vernon College t-shirt covered in milk. “You left in a hurry.” 

“I didn't want to wake you.”

“I was wondering if I would see you here today.”

“I was wondering if you came with any of those bear claws?”

She uncovered a platter full of cinnamon-crusted pastry on the countertop before offering me one. I popped the whole thing in my mouth moaning with delight.

“You had these at your apartment last night?” She nodded in affirmation. “You're lucky I didn't see them last night or they wouldn't be here today,” I said before pulling another in two and chomping it down half at a time. 

“Are you going to leave any for anyone else?” Christina asked with her hands on her waist.

“There is plenty of other stuff for them to eat.”

“Don't be greedy.”

“You mean these
aren't
just for me?”

Christina opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She blushed and bit at her lip in encouragement to form words.

“Are they?” I pressed her against the countertop where she was biting.

“I made a little more than usual since you enjoy them so much.”

“I enjoy
you
very much.”

The pastry was sweet, but her lips were sweeter. I needed to get out of there before I made a mess of my mother's kitchen and spread Christina across the counter. My dick was begging to come out and play. I would have enjoyed eating every one of those pastries off of her. Her eyes bulged and Christina gasped a big gulp of air as I pulled her hair back, exposing her neck and ground my growing erection into her abdomen. There was no discrepancy to my arousal.

“I better get out there. I was supposed to bring milk out. Their coffee is probably cold by now.”

“Are you cold?”

She looked at me bewildered. I took off my running jacket, and her eyes grew wide again. I pulled my black PT shirt over my head and handed it to her. She stared at my bare chest, transfixed. I gave her a quick peck on the lips before putting my jacket back on, zipping it up.

“You can change in the mudroom. Just stick your shirt in the washing machine, and I'll make sure it gets done.”

“Oh, yeah, that.” She snapped out of her daze and scurried off to the mudroom to change.

I grabbed the milk decanter and refilled it, taking it out to my mom in the dining room.

“Oh, thank you, dear. Did you see Christina in there?”

“Yes, she asked me to bring this to you. See you later, Mom. I'm going to the shop to help Dad.”

“Don’t forget to get a haircut,” she called after me before the screen door slammed.