Archer showed up at my house seventeen minutes early. I don’t understand why he would do this.
After he closes the front door I look down at Abigail, spread open before me on the ground. Her creamy white skin is fully exposed, just for me. It takes all my effort not to dive back in and continue to ravish her, perhaps switch sides to see if I can make her climax again from the opposite direction. What would it be like, I wonder, to use my dominant hand at her clit while my left moved in and out of her body?
I shake these thoughts away. Much as I’d like to, I cannot spend the evening massaging the beautiful skin of Abigail Baker. I made a commitment to play cards with Moorely and my brother. I cough. “Abigail,” I say, reaching for her clothes. “I apologize for the intrusion. I have an appointment with my brother this evening.”
She sits up, and her demeanor seems guarded. Her body seems closed to me, suddenly. “Oh,” she says.
“I have 16 minutes to shower and change before I have to meet Archer in the driveway,” I tell her. I begin to lift her to her feet. When she seems a bit unsteady, I help her step into her leggings. I can sense that I am making an error in etiquette, but I also know it’s wrong to cancel plans with my brother. This interlude with Abigail was, after all, unplanned.
“Ok,” she says. And then the silence between us feels…heated. Different than usual. Something is off.
She bites her lip. I see tears well up in her eyes. This isn’t good. “I very much enjoyed our experience together,” I tell her. She nods. “I made a prior commitment with my brother, not knowing you and I would try the Kivin method of oral sex.”
“Yes,” she says, tugging up her pants. “Of course. I should have called before I came over.” And she walks out of the house without a further word.
When she leaves, I can tell that she’s not being fully honest. She is unsettled. But I don’t have time to figure out what to do about that because my brother is waiting.
I hurry through my shower and step outside into Archer’s truck with one minute to spare. “You were early,” I say by way of greeting.
He shakes his head and starts driving. “When were you going to tell me you’re fucking Abigail?”
When I don’t answer right away he punches me in the thigh. “Ouch! I was thinking, Archer. I was trying to decide if oral sex counts as ‘fucking,’ in which case the answer is that I’ve only been fucking her for approximately 20 minutes.”
He pulls the truck over to the side of the road abruptly. “Wait. I walked in on your first time with her and you just left with me?”
“Yes.” This is seeming less and less like the appropriate course of action, which is upsetting and confusing because Archer and I have a commitment with Moorely.
“Hunter, Jesus. You have to call her.”
“Hmm.” I look at my phone in the console of Archer’s truck.
“You gotta text her at least. Sweet dreams, I’ll be dreaming of you. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. That sort of thing. This is serious, Hunter. Don’t fuck this up.”
“Those are uncharacteristic things for me to say.”
Archer starts driving again and almost hits me, but retracts his hand. “Do you like this woman?”
“I am quite fond Abigail. Absolutely.”
“Ok, then plan out what you’re going to write and do not hit send until I say it’s ok.”
We pull into the parking lot of the Acorns’ club house before I can come up with anything that seems appropriate to send to my next-door neighbor who caught me masturbating and then let me massage her vulva. “I can’t think of anything apart from ‘I’d very much like to do that again soon.’”
“Oh my god, Hunter.” Archer kicks open the door and Moorely, who looks sweaty already, stands up from the table and rushes over to us.
“Good on you, mate. Thank you, truly, for helping me out here.”
“Moorely, this is my brother Archer.”
“Cheers,” he says, while Archer simultaneously says, “You wanna hear what my dumbass brother just did?”
To my horror, the 3 of us sit down at a table full of senior citizens as Archer talks about my personal life. The cards seem forgotten, hearing aids are adjusted. They all listen to my brother, rapt, as he describes my Pandora’s box. I cover my face with my hands when Archer tells them he thinks I am the world’s biggest moron. And then they collectively try to work out how I should proceed with Abigail.
Don, who taught in the OCC creative writing department for 30 years, suggests I send her a link to a love poem.
Lamar, whom I think I replaced in biology, suggests having Diana drop off flowers immediately.
Christian the retired anthropologist just laughs, until Archer gives more details on what he saw.
I am not embarrassed—that’s not an emotion I typically experience—but I am defensive that Archer would share these details. I want to keep my experience with Abigail private. Something just for us. Something that’s mine alone.
The men are fascinated, though, and the discussion quickly shifts to the difficulty of successful oral sex and the elusive female orgasm. Moorely even pulls up the article on his phone and reads it aloud.
Soon, they all begin asking me for pointers until I feel my skin crawling with discomfort. Lamar slaps the table and declares, “I’m goin’ home to try this out with Mary Pat,” which draws peals of laughter from everyone else. I start to relax a bit, certain the Acorns will be less strict if they’re in a good mood. They tend to insist we ante up with non-cash items like help with yard work or rides to the podiatrist. Before my last trip to the space station, I came home to Oak Creek for a visit and found myself giving insulin injections to some of the Acorns while they watched The Price is Right.
Thankfully, Moorely redirects everyone to the card game while I tap out a message to Abigail.
I’m very glad I finally kissed you. I think about you frequently. I hope we will see each other tomorrow.
When Archer drops me off after cards, I see that Abigail’s lights are still on downstairs. I don’t want to frighten her and try to peek around the curtains, but I have to see her again. Immediately. I can almost still taste her, the heady and powerful taste of her arousal. For me.
After I sent the text, I had imagined she would come over to my house tomorrow evening like usual. I planned to swoop in and kiss her again then, but now that I realize she is still awake, sitting this close to me, I find I cannot move my thoughts from her. I can almost smell the rosemary in her hair and lavender on her skin.
I tap softly on her front door.
Soon after, I see her eye appear by the curtain, pupil contracted in concern. Then I feel relief when her face softens and she cracks the door open.
“Abigail,” I say softly, not entirely certain why I’m whispering. “May I come in?”
She doesn’t say anything but opens the door, so I step into her house. I have always had a sensitivity to smell. New places overwhelm me. I could only stand the space station because it smelled so sterile, so constantly of motor oil and cleaning solution.
But Abigail’s house smells like a meadow, like sunshine and wild plants. She stands leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of her sweatpants, biting her lip. “I wasn’t sure what to make of…what happened,” she says. She never did respond to my text.
“I feel very conflicted about my departure, Abigail. I made a commitment to my brother, and I— well I have a lot of experience overlooking my commitments to people when I get engrossed in my work. It’s not something I’m proud of.” I start rambling to her, telling her all the things Heather used to scream at me in the night when I’d stagger in from the lab, feeling triumphant, only to find her crying and throwing wasted theater tickets in my face or dumping ruined food in the garbage.
I sigh. “So, I hope you can understand that it felt important to me to—”
And then Abigail’s arms are around my neck and she’s kissing me. I quickly scan my body to verify I’m not hallucinating. I feel her soft curves pressing against me, my thickening erection pulsing against her stomach. I moan against her mouth and I feel her smile.
“I like it when you come unhinged,” she says. “I think about you frequently, too.”
She startles me by shoving me back against the opposite wall of the hallway. “Thank you for telling me why it mattered so much that you keep your promise to your brother,” she says, punctuating her words with small kisses against my jawline.
“Abigail, this is all very unexpected.”
She sucks on the skin at the base of my neck, drawing out another involuntary groan. She pulls back and asks, “unexpected is not unwanted, right?”
“Oh, Abigail.” I grip her shoulders and meet her eyes. “Make no mistake. I want you.”