Page 12 of Mechanic Next Door
8
Thomas
“You’re right,Peach. We don’t come out here enoughanymore.”
I knock my shoulder into hers as I take a sip of my beer and roll a small, flat rock between my fingers. We’re standing at the edge of the water, next to the dock, where the small waves lap against the stones anddirt.
“We used to come out here all the time.” She looks over and gives me a small smile. “I think that was the best summer of my life, Thomas. Rememberwhen…”
She pauses and shakes her head. She knows I don’t like this game. The game of “rememberwhen.”
When she first came to live with her grandfather, she was understandably a goddamn mess. Her parents skidded on some black ice in upstate New York when they were at an off-off (way off) Broadway show being staged at a performing arts center in White Plains. Her life changed overnight. She’s told me before that she is thankful for what I did forher.
I say it really wasn’t anything, but the more time that’s passed, the more I understand how much it really was something. And I didn’t just help her. She helped me, too. She helped me become the man I amtoday.
When we started spending time together, I noticed that every time she talked about her life before she came here, she would get upset. It made sense, of course. She’d say “I remember when…” and then end up crying. So I banned all utterances of the words “remember when.” I don’t know if it helped. I don’t know if it did more harm than good. But what it did do was made her talk about her past life, the life before she came here, with more enthusiasm and more colorful, vivid details. It felt as though she was no longer mourning the life she’d lost. She was celebrating the life she’d had. She seemed more excited for the life she would get tolead.
Or hell, maybe she was just humoring me. Hell if I know. All I know is that Itried.
“Remember when we would sit on the edge of the dock all night with our toes in the water?” I ask her. I go against my own policy. I open up the door forher.
“I remember,” she whispers. She makes her way over to the dock and I follow her. When I see her falter on her bad ankle I grab her under the arm and help her to the edge. We sit down and I pull her feet into my lap, slide her flip-flops off and take her left foot into myhands.
What the fuck am I doing? The idea came to me like a flash of lightning. I didn’t think anything of it. A friendly gesture, a little present to her to make her feel a little better, some contact to make her feel cared for, a gift to make her feel good, if only for a little while. Just a small thing I can do for her. I resolve to make this shit platonic. And quick. Platonic andquick.
“If one foot hurts, I’m going to have to make the other one feel twice as good,” Isay.
“Ohhh, yeah,” she says, biting her lip with a mischievous little twinkle in her eye. “That feelssogood.”
I run my thumbs around her heel, pushing the pads of my fingers into her skin as they glide along the arch. When I get to her toes, I take the big one and squeeze it between my thumbs, rubbing the underside and then going back up to her arch. She lets out a little squeak of appreciation and approval and I slide my hands up to herankle.
“Is that good, honey?” I ask, staying focused on her. I bring my hands to her long, smooth calf, pressing into the muscle with my thumb and gliding my other hand behind it. I go higher, to her knee, and feel myself begin to stiffen when I look at her face. Her mouth is open slightly and her little pink tongue is tickling the corner of her lips. Her brows are knitted together a little in the center and a little moan spills from her partedmouth.
“That’s so good, Thomas,” she moans, putting her hands behind her to leverage herself. The look on her face says she likes it. That she lovesit.
Shit.MaybeI shouldn’t have started this, because I don’t know how the hell it’s going to finish. I take her lower thigh in both of my hands and squeeze the soft muscle, grazing my thumbs around the front, digging in with more pressurenow.
“Next time we have to use some lotion or baby oil,” she says, giving me a smile that’s slightly out ofbreath.
Goddamnit. There it is. She makes my cock stiffen like arock.
With her heel inches away from my choked cock I move higher up her thigh, to the center, where the muscle is tense. With each stroke of my thumbs, my palms, my fingers, she starts torelax.
“Baby oil,” I repeat to her, going a little higher. Can’t fucking help myself. Got god’s greatest gift to humanity halfway in my lap and I’m going to slide my hands up her luscious thigh as far as I can before she stops me. And if she doesn’t stop me, well, I think I might be putting my fingers into her panties before I can force myself to stop. “I told you not to be wearing theseshorts.”
These little shorts she has on are so short, they barely cover the swell of her ass, they barely cover up her little panties. I venture higher, my hands gliding to the soft, sensitive underside of her thigh and she moans, her eyelids fluttering closed and her head fallingback.
“You’re the only one going to seethem.”
She shifts her weight, making her shorts move along with her. The frayed end of the denim is now sliding up and over, making the edge of her white bikini visible at the juncture of herthigh.
“You want me to use baby oil on you next time?” I choke out. My cock is dripping and big and pressing up against the inside of my pants, the zipper near about fixing to bust rightopen.
“Mmmhm,” she moans, biting her lip and stealing her gaze on mine. “I want you to get mewet.
My heart is pounding a mile a minute. I need - I fuckingneed- to know how far she’s going to let me go. I don’t know if I’m going to be able to tread lightly here. I might have to just jump right the fuckin.
“You want me to get you all wet baby?” I stroke up her thigh so achingly slowly that it feels like the motion lasts forever. I promised this would be over quick, but I’m making a liar ofmyself.
