Engaged (The ABCs of Erotica) (10 page)

“Do you want to cum all over my back right now, Cooper? Do you?”
 

“Yes,” he pants.
 

“Then flip me around like you promised!”
 

Cooper grabs my ankles and fucks me so hard that I’m dragged up onto the table. I’m flush against him as he pounds me into my third orgasm.
 

He waits for my finish, then pulls me farther to the table’s edge, off of the top. I spill down and onto my feet. I turn, and slap my stomach onto the table’s surface and bend over, 90 degrees, and plant my feet to the floor.
 

Cooper plunges from behind.
 

He fucks me hard, and I fuck him right back. Unlike the tabletop, now it’s easy to slam my ass back. Cooper grunts like a beast. So do I. I’m stuck between pleasure and memory. I keep turning to look behind me, wishing Cooper wasn’t wearing sunglasses so I could see his expression.

The pleasure’s too much, I collapse from its weight.

My tits are mashed to the table as my arms swim from either side of my body. I keep expecting Cooper to cum, but he doesn’t. He grips me tighter and pulls me harder against him, giving me just what I need. I feel alive with his rocking behind me, cock spearing straight into my hole like a flesh-covered nightstick.
 

I can feel his trembling energy, and the focus he uses to keep it from leaving. His hands are deep into my ass cheeks so he can shove himself deeper. I slam myself back, grinding my cunt on his cock, turning in circles, wiggling harshly, stirring myself back-and-forth, as if angry.
 

I pause, not because I want to, but because I’ve barely any breath in my body.
 

I heave, moan, grunt, and finally cum.
 

I cry out, scream, and yell for Cooper to finish.

He pulls me from the table, bends me back so I’m flat to the wood with my feet on the floor, my ass against him.

It’s beautiful, how our moans lock and tumble as one, each note growing louder through the thunder of our final minute. Cooper grunts, holding his cum in his cock, stretching pleasure as I heave and shove my body against him. Cooper holds me down, groaning, like a man trying to wrestle a mountain.

I feel his ironing board body behind me. He shudders, and erupts inside me.
 

Cum is everywhere. I love it:
something the girls do not have.
 

They can never explode in my mouth, not like Cooper has exploded behind me. Nor can I swallow them the same way. Men fit in my hollow, and make me one with another the way nature designed me.
 

Cooper keeps stirring his flagging dick inside my trembling hole. Then he pulls out, and I’m emptied. Cum spills down my legs, dripping onto the tile, from my pussy. I feel uncorked.
 

Nothing like Richard, in a good way. I’ll want more before long and won’t want to wait. I imagine Cooper’s long, tan cock covered in my cream and his cum. I want to look. He’s standing behind me, spreading my ass cheeks, admiring our mess, like he always used to do.

I climb from the table and kiss him.
 

“That was fucking perfect,” he says as we part.
 

“So,” I smile. “Wanna talk?”
 

Liza Fucking Elway
 

Cooper makes me a meal and reminds me of Richard, though he’s not like Richard at all. They have similar kitchens, both filled with ridiculously priced accoutrements they don’t need to make the simple dishes they do.

Similarities stop there. Like everything else about Cooper, he’s sloppy compared to Richard. He makes a mess, because someone will clean it. People clean for Richard, too, he still sweeps his eggshells into the trash and wipes the counter with a washcloth before eating.
 

Cooper leaves evidence of his indulged life everywhere, like flecks of skin he can’t help but shed. He left a mess between my legs. Some is still running in between them, the rest has already dried.

He sets a plate of eggs in front of me. They’re gorgeous: hued in yellows and whites, and every other color with red peppers, green onions, tomatoes, slivers of white garlic, wedges of green avocado, something dark and red — mashed — I think it might be a chipotle.
 

I think at the fork and dip it into the egg. “Wait!” Cooper cries out, wrapping my wrist in his hand. He smiles, gestures to a small bowl of crimson salsa, then drizzles it on my eggs. “A must.”

I put the eggs in my mouth. Cooper was right: They’re amazing.

“So,” he says, then adds nothing to his sentence. I wonder if he’s waiting for me, or searching for words.

I say, “So, what have you been up to since, like, forever?”

Cooper smiles, but doesn’t answer. “What in the fuck, Liza?” He cracks into laughter. “Where to start? I can’t believe you’re here, or that we did that. It’s unreal. I’m so not prepared.”

Cooper’s words crumble through his laughter. He’s flushed. Embarrassed. It’s adorable. I’m glad he’s not wearing his shades.

“Why is it so hard to believe? We used to do it all the time.”
 

“That was a while ago, Liza. A lifetime. I figured it’d be different now.”

“Oh my God, Cooper. Are you kidding? You’re acting like we’re ancient. We’re not. We’re still practically kids. It wasn’t a long time ago, definitely not a lifetime. You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“Well, at least you’re not a bitch anymore,” Cooper laughs.

“I’ve never been a bitch. The only people who really think I’m a bitch are people who don’t know me.”

He nods, still smiling. “I know, Liza. You just know what you want, and aren’t ever afraid to go get it.” After a pause he clears his throat. “So, where do we start?”

I shrug. “I guess you should say what you’re thinking.”
 

The words have barely left my mouth. He says, “I thought you hated me.”
 

I told Cooper I’d never call him again, then didn’t until now. He never knew, but I’ve been cool with Cooper for a while.
 

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “You don’t have to worry about any of that. I promise. That was a long time ago. We were kids. You weren’t
trying
to be a dick, you were a teenage boy, and didn’t know how much you hurt me.”

“But I did.” Cooper looked down. “And I’m sorry.”

There’s a quiet moment between us. It’s beautiful, and healing. I inhale it while eating my eggs. I let Cooper watch me without saying stop. There’s something special about what’s passing between us. It’s old worn. He knows a Liza that Richard cannot.

“Well,” Cooper says, looking into my eyes. “I just don’t want you to think I don’t know, or that I never cared. I do, and did. I think about it a lot, and am always sorry when I do.”
 

I laugh to show I’m okay, and slap him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t be here if I was mad. You know me better than that.”

“True.”
 

“So, let’s start with a story. You go first, to say you’re sorry.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “What sort of story you want to hear?”

“Tell me the most amazing thing you’ve done since the last time I saw you.”

Cooper likes the question. I can tell by his dancing eyes, three shades brighter, as if they’re grabbing light from the sky. He appears to think, stroking his chin like a cartoon. Finally: “I made a million dollars.”

“That’s not impressive, Cooper. You had more than that before you were born.”

“No,” He grinned. “This is different. I really mean I really made it. This money has nothing to do with Mom or Dad. I could blow out tomorrow if I wanted. Buy my own place: cash. But I don’t want to. This is home.” He smiled and added, “Tons of memories.”

“How did you make a million?”

“Well, in the interest of full disclosure, it isn’t actually a million. But it will be. My cut is over $940,000 now, and we’re going strong.”

“Who is we?” I ask. “And what do you mean cut? Are you selling drugs? I’m not judging, but not cool if you are.”
 

“How is that not judging?” he smiles. “But no, I’m not doing anything like that. I have a band. The Atomic Weirdos.”
 

“Great name.” I laugh. “I didn’t know you played any instruments. What do you play?”

“Actually, I can play guitar and piano. Took lessons every day for a couple of years after high school. I’m good at both, but nowhere near as good as the band. I’m not actually in it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m their manager.”

“Wow, things really have changed. That’s totally not the type of job I would’ve pictured for you. Do you like it?”

“I love it. But it’s probably not like you’re thinking. I’m not an agent. I don’t get gigs for the band or any of that. I’m not Ari Gold.”

“So, what do you do?”

Cooper smiled. “I make them famous.”
 

I smiled back, loving how playful he seemed, and so perfectly young. That wasn’t like Richard at all.

“I’m a better than decent Internet marketer. I learned a bunch of stupid tricks to make fast money online. I didn’t need the money, but loved learning the tricks. Once I had enough, I used them to blow up the Weirdos. They’re doing well. So, that’s my full-time gig, and it isn’t even full time. I’m squirreling, and my parents have no idea how well I’m doing. I don’t want them to, until my stacks are fatter.”
 

“Impressive,” I say. “Where can I find the Atomic Weirdos?”
 

“If you were cool like you were in high school, you would’ve known already.”
 

“Ouch.”
 

He smiles, and steals a bite of my eggs.
 

“It’s OK, that’s what happens when you get old. Don’t take it personally. Takes a ton of work to stay this cool.”
 

“More or less than it takes to tan your dick.”
 

“I don’t tan my dick.”
 

“OK.”
 

“Anyway, you can find Atomic Weirdos on iTunes, CDBaby, Spotify, anywhere. Just look. You’ll dig their shit for sure, unless you’ve changed more than I think you have. And FYI if you hear it, the song Liza: total coincidence.”
 

His sly smile. It might be what I miss most. Maybe more than his tan dick.
 

“Your turn,” he says. “What’s the most amazing thing you’ve done since the last time I saw you?”
 

“Hmmm … ” I say, thinking. I should be prepared for the question. I look up and smile. “I can sleep with the door unlocked.”
 

He draws a mock serious expression and claps a hand to his cheek. “Oh my,” Cooper says. “That
is
quite an accomplishment. Surely you’ve had T-shirts made for the family? I could build you a Facebook fan page if you’d like, you know, for the promotion.”
 

“Fuck you,” I say. “I never spent the night here, so you don’t know this about me, but once upon a not too long ago, I couldn’t sleep if the door was unlocked. Sometimes I’d wake up and check in the middle of the night.”
 

“What in your life, Liza Elway, have you ever been scared of?”
 

I shrug. “I don’t know why, but it was something I had to do.”
 

“And you don’t anymore?”
 

I ask myself if I don’t really have to, or if I’ve learned to ignore it.
 

“I guess not,” I say.
 

“So, what changed?”
 

“Richard. I haven’t locked a door since the day I moved in.”
 

“Well, sounds like he’s Mr. Perfect. Why are you here?”
 

“I told you: because he wants me to be. Now tell me another story.”
 

“What do you want to know?”

“The craziest thing you’ve done.”
 

“The craziest? You mean sexually? With my dick? Or, like, normal life?”
 

“I meant normal life, but now I’m curious, so I guess tell me both.”
 

He makes a large, exaggerated sigh. “You’re so full of questions, Ms. Elway.”
 

“So start answering.”
 

“Craziest thing I’ve done in real life, I guess going off to live alone, away from every man, woman, and child on the planet for 100 days.”
 

“Really?” I’m surprised. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
 

“Exactly why I did it. I woke up two years ago thinking I didn’t want to be 35 and realizing I spent my 20s on my cell. I had to unplug. Not just from Wi-Fi, but like, life.”
 

“Where did you go?”
 

“My parents’ place in Colorado. It’s in the sticks.”
 

“So, you went to unplug in a mansion? Wow. You are exactly like Amelia Earhart. With a tan dick.”