“Take off your pajama bottoms.”
I slink out of them and add my underwear to the pile on my floor sliding underneath my top blanket.
“I took off both.”
“Eager and way ahead of me, but that’s alright.” I imagine his lips curling into a pleased smile.
“Slid your hand over your soft belly.”
I whisper, “How do you know it’s soft?”
“Laurel.” He grunts like he’s chastising me. I can’t help the giggle that escapes.
“Okay, okay.” I wait with baited breath for his next set of instructions.
“Slid that hand over your belly and then over your mons slowly dragging your fingertips back and forth. What do you feel?”
“My nails are short and scrapping over my, um, landing strip?” I don’t know what else to call the patch of hair there. Luckily, we haven’t run out of razors for shaving because I have a thing about being well groomed.
“Damn. I wish I was there. I’d give it a little tug. Not too hard, but enough for you to feel it.”
I whimper and tug it myself wishing it were him.
“Soon.” He says.
I’m panting in the dark. “Not soon enough.”
“Now slid those fingers lower. Spread your thighs open and touch yourself. Slowly and only on the top.”
“Van.” Gasping, I repeat the slow movement. I want to press forward, but I listen to his directions.
“Are you cheating on me, sweetheart?”
“No, but please.” I’m whining and writhing on my bed.
“Alright. Slid those fingers lower. Are you wet yet?”
“Mmm.”
“Yes or no?” His demanding question ignites a fire in me.
“Yes, a bit.” I roll my finger over my bean feeling the pulse.
“Pinch it.”
“Pinch?”
“Pinch your clit.” He demands.
The pain pleasure overrides any embarrassment I might of have sending electric zings down my legs and centered in my core.
“What are you doing?” I ask him.
“I’m jerking myself. God this is so hot. You have no idea how much I want to be with you. Hold you. See you.”
I slip my finger inside. One at first and then a second feeling myself flutter from his words. It’s too much hearing his grunts and the slick sound of my arousal and I come biting back a soft cry.
“Laurel.” He pants until he stops.
“Donovan.” I’m out of breath and curl onto my side suddenly sleepy. How is it possible to feel so much in such a short amount of time?
15
Van
I’m itchy to expend the pent-up energy from my call with Laurel. I hadn’t expected to feel so wound up listening to her panting breaths. It’s good thing the camera wasn’t on. That was one visual I didn’t need. Her flushed cheeks, pale skin glowing dewy from her arousal. Damn. It made me hard all over again. Hearing her was enough to send me over the edge.
I had to see her. Despite the city-wide lock down and social distancing, I couldn’t not see her. I rush downstairs to the parking garage and get into my car. My fist jams the key lock and I turn the engine over letting it start. I check the mirror to back out of my spot when my phone pings. I reach for my phone and slide the screen over to read the message.
FlowerGirl23: Stay home.
FlowerGirl23: Please.
My head bangs against the headrest. She’s right. One hundred percent right. It’s well after midnight and I respect that she lives with her family, just barely. She makes me want to break those rules, but for her I don’t. Mentally I’ve reached a breaking point. It’s not enough and yet I know it has to be, for now, for this hopelessly undetermined amount of time.
I want to text her back, but I know it’s a bad idea because then we’ll spend the rest of the night chatting and we’ll never sleep. I could go without, but I know Laurel has responsibilities and I want her to know that not only do I respect that, I’m honoring her request. Tomorrow will be a new day to defile her with words. I can sneak her cheeky grins over the work video chat and call her afterward to hear her chastise me. We’ll muddle through no matter how long this takes, because…I’ve definitely got more than just feelings for her.
I think I love her.
16
Van
The restriction is finally lifted. Ninety days of absolute hell and we’re told we should still be cautious and careful. I’d rather never hear those words again, but I understand. Luckily, Laurel is safe. I’m safe, and now I’m driving on my way to see her as fast as my car will drive across the bridge. Everyone flocks outside despite the pouring rain. There is no parking on her street and I take the chance to double park not giving a shit. I need to touch her, feel her soft skin and run my hands into her hair. If this is what a drought feels like, I’m a thirsty man craving the one thing that I believe can quench my thirst.
“Laurel!” I yell at the top of my lungs like a madman fresh from Belview. Her doorway is barred by a group of people coming and going. There is no way I can push past them and get up the two flights of stairs as quickly as I would like. I have zero opposition to climbing up the stairwell if I have to. “Laurel!” My throat is scratchy as the only use it’s gotten is talking to her nightly.
I check my phone to call her, but I don’t have cell service and my bars are low. Everyone must be calling loved ones jamming the cell towers. I start singing our song. It’s the only thing I can do.
“Donovan?” Laurel peers down from her open window. Rain slashes my face and coats my clothes as I look up at her angelic face.
“I’m here sweetheart.”
“I can see that. What are you doing?” She sticks her leg outside her window as if she plans to step out on the iron framework. My heart jumps and my breath hitches. After all this I’m not losing her to fall two stories despite my confidence that I’ll catch her.
“Stay inside, love. It’s wet and slippery up there.”
“Seriously, Van? I’ve been inside for almost twelve weeks. A little rain never hurt anyone.” She moves to pull her other leg out and stand up.
“Stop! If you slip and fall, I’ll be spanking your ass red. I’m coming up to you. Don’t you dare come out.”
She huffs whining, my darling brat. “Van.”
“I swear, Laurel.” I rush the doorway to push past folks who smash themselves against the walls to avoid me. “Sorry. Apologies. I’m going up, apartment 3D.”
I jump steps and hop over a dog laying across the stairwell. “Sorry Buddy.” I recognize the dog from Laurel’s photos. I turn the corner and head up another flight of stairs, almost there. I’m out of breath by the time I make it to her door and I see it pop open. Three faces peer out at me, but none are Laurel. Where’s my girl? I panic scan the hall.
“Laur…” I clutch my chest and the stitch in my side from galloping up the steps. The door opens wide and I see everyone but her.
“Quickly, before he dies in the hall.” Mrs. Murphy lifts my arm up over her shoulder and half drags me inside. Hannah tries to push my butt while Lavender holds the door scanning the hallway.