Memoir in the Making: A May-December Romance (12 page)

Flitting her hands up and down her sides and breasts, she closed her eyes. The touch was soft and gentle, supple even. She tweaked a nipple and let out a breath, clenching her eyes shut more tightly. The television was on in the other room, and she tried to push the sound to the background and only focus on what she was doing to herself.

She pinched her right nipple between her thumb and forefinger and rolled it, pleasure surging through her breast and down her stomach. Adam had been right whether he intended to mention it or not—she hadn’t done this recently enough.

Not wanting to wait any longer than necessary and risk having her roommates discover her in a precarious position, Ainsley grabbed the lube and her toy. Clicking open the top of the bottle of lube, Ainsley turned it over and squeezed it out onto her body. Taking the toy, she turned the vibration on and rubbed it against herself in circles.

Pleasure shot through her body. Her back arched off the bed, and her jaw clenched tightly. A moan escaped her lips, and she swallowed it down as best she could, trying to be as quiet as possible. She didn’t want anyone hearing her. Ainsley continued the movement, even when her body ached for more. She wanted to have just the right speed and stamina to make it last. She was going to do it once this time around.

Her hips undulated, and shivers ran up and down her spine. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she was forced to take a deep gasping breath. She was right on the cusp, right where she wanted to be. She was so close, her mind set on Meredith and her smile, those pale blue-green eyes when she grinned.

The doorbell rang. Ainsley clenched her eyes shut and tried to regroup her focus, but when Adam’s voice rang through the hallway, she panicked. Quickly donning her clothes, Ainsley shoved her toy and lube back into the nightstand, cringing at the thought that it wasn’t cleaned.

Adam knocked on her door, and she stood up, smoothing her hands down her jeans to steady herself. She hoped her cheeks weren’t still flushed, she hoped the room didn’t smell, and she hoped to God Adam wouldn’t say anything. Opening the door, he brushed inside and sat down on her bed with a bounce and a grin.

“So?” he asked.

Groaning, Ainsley sat next to him. “So what?”

“Did it work? Do you feel better?”

“I’d feel better if you hadn’t interrupted me.”

Adam’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. He stared at her with wide eyes and then shook his head. “I didn’t.”

“You did, trust me, you did.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Right, sure you are. Now, why are you here this early again?”

“I need to dress you. You can’t go to a potluck with all of your professors dressed like a slob. You know, I can leave and come back later.” He pointed to the door.

“It’s not going to happen. Just give it up.” Ainsley shifted uncomfortably in her jeans and damp underwear. She would have to change those before going to the party that was for sure.

Adam shrugged and shot up out of the bed. He headed for her closet, and Ainsley groaned.

“If we do this, you’re picking up the room. I’m not having it a total mess this time.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“Good.” Ainsley crossed her arms and looked from Adam to the door. “Actually, I’m going to run to the bathroom, clean something I think needs to be cleaned and then I’ll be right back. You judge, I punch you.”

Adam held up his hands. Ainsley reached into her drawer and grabbed her toy. She tried to keep it at her side as she raced from the room into the bathroom just down the hall. Turning on the hot water, she shoved the piece of plastic under it and cleaned it with soap and water. She cursed Adam under her breath, still feeling revved and ready to go despite the obnoxious intrusion on her own personal time.

She had no idea specifically what Adam was doing in her room, but she was sure she would walk back in and he would be disgusted with her clothing selection. Ainsley finished washing her toy and rinsed it. Grabbing the hand sanitizer, she squirted it onto her palm and rubbed it along the dildo. Dabbing it dry with her towel, she went back to her room, again with the toy by her side.

Shoving it back into the nightstand, Ainsley turned and looked at her room. It was a complete mess. Adam had torn apart her closet and everything in her drawers, including her underwear drawer, and was putting together outfits for her to try on.

“Adam…” she whined.

“I needed to see it all,” he said, holding his hands out in front of him and grinning. “Your clothes suck. I need to take you shopping. Where do you shop? The Gap?”

“Sears,” she muttered.

Adam turned on her with a gasp and shocked expression on his face. She determined it was half-fake and half-real because he probably was surprised she openly admitted to him she shopped there but not surprised that’s where the majority of her clothes came from.

“I like to be comfortable,” she answered back and raised her eyebrow at him. “Can we get this over with?”

“Yes. Now, go try this one on.” He handed her a pair of tight jeans, an even tighter shirt she’d had in high school that barely fit her anymore, and a thong.

Ainsley wrinkled her nose at the thong. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to be encouraging. This—” she held up the tiny piece of underwear “—is encouraging.”

“You need it.”

“I need it? What the hell do I need it for?”

“Power. To give yourself confidence. To make you feel sexy.”

“Why do I need to feel sexy if I’m trying to avoid her?”

Adam bit his lip and sat down next to her on the bed. “You need to avoid the Hot One. It doesn’t mean you can’t feel good about yourself.”

Ainsley growled in the back of her throat but took the clothes and went to the bathroom to put them on. As much as she trusted Adam, she didn’t want to change in front of him when she was frustrated. She changed, thankful for the new underwear even though it was something she would rather not be wearing, and went back into her bedroom.

Spinning in a circle, she waited while Adam judged her. The jeans were tight on her ass, but made her feel like her figure was put out there well. The shirt, however, was probably going to be an issue. It certainly was too small. Not only had her hips grown since high school, her breasts had grown. It stretched over her chest, making it difficult for her to breathe.

“New shirt,” he muttered

“Thank God,” she said and stripped it off before the fabric split in two. “Things keep on growing. I need to throw this shirt out.”

“Keep it. May come in handy on Halloween.”

Adam handed her another shirt, and Ainsley slipped it over her head. The brown coloring off-set her dark-brown eyes beautifully. She looked at herself in the mirror, Adam behind her, studying. It was low cut enough in the front to show some cleavage, but it wasn’t obsessive.

“This is it!” he said. “Just need a belt, a jacket to match and then we have to do something with your hair. Ainsley rolled her eyes, but let him do whatever he wanted, knowing she would look and feel all that much better for it.

#

Meredith was on her hands and her knees, scrubbing her floor with a washcloth. Her mop had decided to take a permanent vacation and was now in three pieces in the garbage can out the back of her house. The wine glass next to her was her only company, and frankly, Meredith didn’t know how she would make it through the night without it. Everything was already in complete disarray.

She’d taken the day off work to prepare for the influx of people her tiny house was going to be forced to hold. She’d been cleaning since early that morning, scrubbing all the dishes, getting the wine together, getting the food together. Sure it was a potluck and all, but she was still expected to make food on top of everything else she had to do.

The papers she needed to grade that weekend were tossed in her office in a stack she wouldn’t be able to touch or look at until at least halfway through the next day. No doubt she would be cleaning up the mess in her house for all of the next morning. Meredith pursed her lips and wondered briefly what the point of cleaning for guests to come over if she would only have to clean after they left was, but she stopped herself from the morose answer and drank down the rest of her glass of wine.

Leaning against the cabinet on the floor, Meredith wished her bottle of red would magically float down to her. Instead, since she wasn’t about to get up and then back down just for a simple glass of wine, she reached into the pocket of her jeans and pulled out her phone. Sam would be hearing about this. She dialed his number and waited until he answered.

“Hello, lovely,” he said, his sing-song tone grating on her nerves.

“I hate you,” she answered. “You left me all by myself to clean, take care of the house, do all of this work, and for what? A man? It’s inexcusable.”

“I love you too, doll. That rough?”

“My house is a mess. I don’t think I’ve cleaned it this thoroughly since the last time I hosted this damn thing.”

Sam laughed. “It was really messy that time too. What are you cleaning now?”

“The floor.” Meredith pouted. She looked up again at her kitchen table with the taunting bottle of red sitting close enough to the edge. If she inched her way over on the ground and reached up, maybe she could get it then.

“You’re on your hands and knees?”

“Broke my mop.”

“You did not.”

“I did,” she said and narrowed her eyes, still trying to determine the fastest way to get the bottle of wine. One more glass wouldn’t hurt. She still had hours before guests would arrive, and by then, she would be able to open a new bottle and start all over again.

“What else do you have to do?”

Meredith sighed. She wasn’t going to get the wine unless she really wanted to stand up and then get back down on her hands and knees. “I need to finish the floor in here and then clean the bathroom. After that I’m done with cleaning. Just have set up left to do.”

“Good progress.”

“Thanks for the encouragement,” she said sardonically. “It’s really appreciated.”

“Why’d you call?” he asked with a laugh.

“To bitch to you about you not being here to help me. How am I supposed to handle them all without you? You know I don’t like them.”

“Mer, it’s just one night. I think you’ll survive.”

“What if Hopkins gets drunk again?”

“Then someone will drive him home.”

Meredith sighed and bounced her head against the cabinet. Every potluck she’d been to since being tenured had a disaster attached to it. Of course the students never knew, and of course, it was all covered up so they could have the next one the following semester. Each time, Sam and she had taken bets on who it would be—occasionally it was them.

She groaned and closed her eyes. “I hate that you can’t be here. I get it, but I still hate it.”

“Me too.”

The somber tone of the conversation made her want to chase it away with the wine again. Meredith set the phone down next to her knee and turned it on speaker, figuring the sooner she finished the floor the sooner she would be able to drink the wine.

“You know what else sucks?” she asked between scrubs against the tile.

“What?” his voice echoed in her nearly clean kitchen.

“She’s going to be here. And you have no idea how hard it’s getting.”

“Oh, if only you were a man.”

“Well, I’m not,” she shot back at him. “I’m serious, though. It’s harder each week. And it’s only getting harder.”

“You have ten more weeks of the semester. You’re a third of the way done. I think you can do it.”

“I’m not sure I can,” she muttered.

There was silence for a few seconds while she slid the phone farther back along with her body and continued to scrub away on her floor. She didn’t really want to hear what Sam had to say, but at the same time, she did. If anything, he would be reasonable and put her back in her place.

“Do you really like her, Mer? Like beyond just want to get her in bed.”

“Yes. She’s intelligent, she’s an excellent writer, she makes me laugh—”

“Yeesh, how much time have you spent with this girl?”

Meredith bit her tongue. She hadn’t told him about the other night over a week ago. Hadn’t let him in that she’d gone home from his place a complete mess and had let Ainsley pick her up and drive her home. She’d snuck back early in the morning to get her car, so he probably hadn’t even seen it still sitting in front of his place.

“Anyway, she came into class the other day, all uppity, and told me she was sorry she’s been making advances and that she didn’t think about some things. What does that even mean? I’m so lost on it.”

“I don’t know.” Sam sighed. “PMS?”

“You did not—”

“It was a joke. I promise. Honestly, maybe someone pointed something out to her—like the age difference. Maybe that’s what she was talking about.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Meredith scooted back again until she was in the doorway. She was so happy to be close to finishing with her floor. “Or maybe she just realized she wasn’t interested anymore.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “How am I supposed to know? She didn’t explain it.”

“Ask her tonight.”

“Not happening,” she answered and sat back on her butt, setting the washcloth to the side. She was done. Picking up her phone, Meredith turned off the speaker and held it to her ear. “I’ll let whatever happens with that happen, but I’m not going to pry if she’s suddenly decided to drop it. It’ll make my life easier if she really has actually decided that.”

“I’m sure it will.”

Meredith pushed up off the floor and groaned as she moved. “My aching bones. This is why I don’t clean my floor that often.”

“That and you don’t make a mess,” he said.

“True. What about Hopkins? Should I keep the wine away from him?”

“Meredith, just relax. What’s going to happen is going to happen, and you’re not going to be able to control it.”

“I want to control it.” She dumped out her bucket of water in the sink and washed down the sides of it. Grabbing her wine glass from where she had left it, she refilled it and went to sit on her couch. She stretched out her legs and leaned back, sipping at the red and savoring each flavor.