A Father's Sacrifice

by Ben Burgess Jr.

Genres: Urban Fantasy

Synopsis

Nick Johnson has always been an underachieving, borderline alcoholic … but
he soon finds himself in over his head.
When his affair with Vickie, an unhappily married homemaker, results in an
accidental pregnancy. Vickie abandons Nick, leaving him to raise their biracial
daughter, Lynn, alone. Overwhelmed by the difficulties of single fatherhood and
seeking comfort and help for himself in that stressful journey, Nick dates
numerous women who will change his life forever.
Will raising Lynn force him to mature? Can a single father with a challenging
past teach his daughter to become a strong, successful woman? Will a daddy's
girl, raised primarily by her father, leave Lynn destined to fail from a lack of female
guidance?

Release date: December 29, 2020

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

It was two in the morning. The loud ringing of the phone on my nightstand amplified the pounding throb of my hangover. I felt like shit. I yawned, stretched, and knocked the phone off the receiver. I fumbled with it in the dark before I groggily answered, “Hello?”

“Nick? Nick,” Vickie yelled.

“What?”

“Wake up and get to Central General . . . now. I’m about to have this baby,” she wailed.

That woke me up.

I stuttered, “Wh–what? It’s a month early.”

“I’m aware of that, Nick. I need you to get your ass here now.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Did you hear me? You need to get here right fucking now.”

I rubbed my hand over my face. “Calm down. I said, I’m coming.”

“I’m not kidding, Nick. Uniondale is twenty minutes away. If you’re not here within the hour, as soon as I have this baby, I’m signing it over to the state.”

“Don’t do that. I’ll be there. I already told you I’d take care of us—all of us. I’m leaving now.”

She hung up.

I stretched and yawned again, trying to thaw out and prepare myself for an eventful day. I wobbled when I stood, still a little tipsy, then stumbled over the empty beer cans scattered on the floor on my way to the bathroom.

I gargled, took a long piss, and washed my face. I looked in the mirror. Dark stubble lined my chiseled face. I looked rugged, but I didn’t have time to pretty myself up.

My clothes were sprawled on the floor. I put on my jeans and sniffed my shirt. It was a little ripe but wearable, so I pulled it over my head and attempted to smooth out the wrinkles as I sprinted to my ’86 Chevy Blazer and headed to the hospital.

I parked, ran into the ER, and spoke to a nurse at the counter. “Excuse me. I’m looking for Victoria De Luca. She’s in labor right now.”

“And you are?”

“Nick Johnson, the baby’s father.”

The woman gave me a once-over, clearly unimpressed by a disheveled brother claiming to be the father of a married Italian woman’s child. I peered down at my clothes and winced. Damn. I should’ve dressed better, I thought.

“She’s in Room 204, with Dr. Turner,” the nurse said.

She spoke briefly to a couple of women around her before turning back to face me again. “Follow me,” she ordered.

We walked past the waiting room, through the hallway, and into the delivery room. I stepped inside and immediately caught sight of Vickie holding the bed rails in a death grip, panting. Her hair was plastered to her sweaty, flushed face. She looked as if she were in the middle of an intense contraction. She sat up quickly, nearly screaming her head off.

“I’m here, honey,” I said, reaching for her hand.

Vickie grimaced in pain, pulled away, and snarled.

“Vickie, I need you to push harder, okay?” Dr. Turner said.

One of the nurses motioned for me to sit down on the chair next to Vickie’s bed, then handed me a damp washcloth.

“Wipe her forehead now and then. It will make her a little more comfortable,” she said.

Sweat dripped down Vickie’s face, and I dabbed at it with the moistened towel. Vickie screamed, gritted her teeth, and clenched the sheets. She tried to follow the doctor’s instructions and continued to writhe in pain.

“I-I can’t do this,” she cried.

“You can, Vickie. I need you to stay focused and keep pushing,” Dr. Turner encouraged.

Vickie took short, quick breaths, exhaling them between her chapped lips. Another set of sharp contractions rolled through her, evidenced by the pained expression on her face.

I grabbed the cup of ice chips by her bed, thinking it would help to moisten her dry mouth, but she slapped the cup out of my hand and left me standing there looking stupid, with no idea of what I should do.

“This is all your fault,” Vickie said through clenched teeth, her eyes bloodshot.

I pulled my chair closer to her and rubbed her hand.

“You’re scared, but everything’s going to be all right,” I tried to console her.

Another set of contractions struck her. Vickie pulled my fingers back so far I was sure she was going to break my hand.

Two hours and a lot of screaming later, Vickie shrieked and pushed with all her might.

“Here she is. Congratulations,” Dr. Turner announced.

I was in shock. I’d never witnessed childbirth before, and at that moment, reality hit me: I’m a fucking father.

The nurses and staff wiped the baby off, cut the umbilical cord, and wrapped her in a blanket.

“She’s tiny, just four pounds, nine ounces,” a nurse said, smiling down at my daughter.

“She is but listen to her cry. You’ve got yourselves a strong one here,” Dr. Turner said.

The nurse attempted to hand the baby to Vickie, but she turned her head and refused to look at our child. Instead, Vickie stared at the fluorescent lights in the ceiling and pushed the baby away.

I wiped Vickie’s moist face. I couldn’t tell if it was wet from sweat or tears. I looked at the nurse and asked, “Can I hold her?”

After a nod of approval from Dr. Turner, the nurse handed the baby to me, wearing a look of uncertainty on her face.

I reached over to take my daughter, nestled her lovingly in the crook of my arm, and looked down at her for the first time. I rocked her back and forth to quiet her, and at that moment, I immediately fell in love. Her eyes were open, staring up at me. She was small but so beautiful that it nearly took my breath away. She had silky, black hair and beautiful gray eyes like her mother’s. I couldn’t help but smile as I looked at her. Vickie looked at me with a blank expression on her face.

“What are you going to name her?” the nurse asked.

I faced Vickie. “What about Lynn, after my mother?” I asked.

“Call her whatever you want.”

“Can you at least act like you give a shit?”

The nurses and the doctor exchanged glances as I stood next to Vickie with our child.

“Isn’t she beautiful?” I asked Vickie, but she turned her eyes to the ceiling and placed her arm over her forehead as if even seeing our child pained her.

Dr. Turner signaled for me to hand over the baby.

“We have to run some tests on Lynn to make sure she doesn’t have any birth defects. Vickie, you’ll be able to go home by the middle of the week, but Lynn won’t be released until the weekend.”

Vickie continued to look away and didn’t even bother to answer him.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I demanded, staring at her in disbelief.

“Nick, I’m a little emotional right now, okay?”

“I suppose that’s our cue to leave,” the doctor said. “We’ll give you two some privacy so you can, uh . . . talk. We’ll take the little one and get started on those tests.”

The nurses nodded and followed the doctor out of the room, one of them pushing the baby on a cart in front of her.

“Why are you acting like you’re at a funeral instead of celebrating the birth of our child?” I asked as soon as they stepped out.

“Because I’m not doing this, Nick. I’m not going to look at that baby when I know I can’t be a mother to it. I’m not leaving Frank. This was a mistake. We were a mistake. Our fling was a mistake.”

“What? Don’t give me that shit,” I said, struggling to keep the volume down. “You can’t back out now. This all stems from you. You came to me. You told me you hate the feeling of condoms. You begged me to fuck you raw, remember? You said you couldn’t get pregnant.”

“I may have said it, but you did it, so who’s really at fault, Nick? You. My doctor told me it’d be damn near impossible. Frank and I tried for years, but nothing came of it. How was I supposed to know this would happen?”

“Well, obviously, your doctor was wrong.”

Vickie buried her face in her hands.

“I shouldn’t have told you about the pregnancy. I should’ve just kept you in the dark like everyone else and given the baby up for adoption.”

“I’ll take care of us, Vickie. You gotta have faith in me,” I said. Even though having a baby wasn’t in my plans, there was no way I’d allow my flesh and blood to suffer in the system.

She laughed. “Nick, you can’t even take care of yourself. Listen, you’re fun to be with, but you can’t seriously think we can be together.”

“I’ve changed during your pregnancy, Vickie.”

“Oh? You’ve changed? That’s odd because I can still smell the alcohol on your breath from last night. You work bullshit home improvement jobs, don’t have your own place, and don’t even have insurance. As for the pregnancy, I’ve had to rely on my husband’s health coverage for all of it. Thank God Frank never pays attention to this shit and leaves the mail to me. Now I have to intercept it, so he doesn’t find out about this.”

“Fuck it. Who cares if he finds out? You’re gonna be with me anyway.”

“Nick, I—”

“Look, I promise we can make this work, and that little girl’s gonna change me for the better. You’ll see.”

Vickie laughed to herself.

“You know, he thinks I’m mad at him because he teased me about having a potbelly. We had a fight last night. Francine is going to tell him I’m still angry, and I don’t want to talk to him. As an excuse, she’s going to tell him I’m hanging out in the Hamptons for the week to cover for this hospital stay.” Suddenly, the smile left her face as she continued. “He’s connected, Nick,” she said, practically in a whisper. “He’ll kill us both if he finds out I’m laid up in the hospital, giving birth to your baby.”

I put my hand under her chin and gently turned her head toward me, then kissed her lightly. “Stop worrying.”

For a brief second, her face softened, and it seemed as if she were beginning to calm down, but she pushed me away. “I’m drained. I need to rest . . . and think,” she said.

“All right. Get some sleep. I’ll be around. I’m gonna call my brother and tell him the good news.”

She lay there looking depressed as I walked out and pulled the door shut behind me.

Out in the hall, I found a phone booth and gave Joe a call.

“Hello?” he answered groggily.

“You ’sleep?”

“Fool, what do you think?”

I hated that old childhood nickname. Dad gave us all nicknames. He called me Fool because he said I was born foolish and hardheaded, and my stubbornness made it impossible for me to make things easy for myself. “You’re always gonna struggle in life and have to learn things the hard way,” he warned.

Growing up, being addressed as Fool had made me feel stupid. Dad’s nickname for Joe was Scout since he was a Boy Scout as a kid, the golden child of the family and the firstborn. I was in the middle, and our brother, Jimmy, a.k.a. Chance, was the youngest. We were all nine months apart.

Chance was the fuckup of the family. True to his moniker, even as a kid, he could never do anything right and always wanted “another chance.” As an adult, he hung out with his loser friends from high school, and they ended up putting him on to heroin. He’s never been able to shake the habit and was in and out of rehab and our lives for years. At the moment, neither of us knew where he was or if he were still alive.

“Today’s my only day off, and your dumbass is waking me up early. You’re lucky Rhea didn’t wake up,” Joe fussed.

“Can you stop cussing me and listen? Vickie had the baby this morning—a little girl, man. I named her Lynn after Mom. I’m a father.”

There was silence for a moment.

“Hello?”

“I’m here, Fool. Wasn’t the baby due next month?”

“Yeah, but she came early.”

“Hmm . . . I bet she did.”

“This is the part where you congratulate me,” I said.

Joe sighed. “Well, seeing as she’s married, I don’t think a celebration is in order. You’re not thinking, Fool. Her husband’s hooked up with those Mafioso types. I warned you about this. You knew you were playing with fire when you slept with her.”

“I’m not worried about him.”

“You should be . . . and you’re putting me in a bad spot with Mr. Davis too. That old man runs a tight ship, and all those home improvement jobs you do come from him. An old friend of our late father’s or not, he’ll take this shit personally. He already warned you not to embarrass him or his business. He’s gonna cut you off, man.”

I rolled my eyes at his lecture but didn’t bother arguing with him.

“How do you know the kid’s even yours?”

“The baby’s mine, man.”

“But how do you know? She hid your affair and pregnancy from her husband. What makes you think she’s telling you the truth? Maybe she had another brother up under her, playing handyman.”

He was pissing me off, but as much as I hated what he was saying, I knew he was right, even if I’d never admit it to him.

Vickie had always been good at hiding things, and I’d be naïve if I believed I was the only guy she was sleeping with besides her husband.

“You know you’re disrespecting the mother of my child, right?”

“Pssh. The mother of your child? Fool, I’m not worried about that married bitch or your feelings. You need to get a damn paternity test before you claim a kid who isn’t yours.”

“I know she’s mine.”

“Don’t be stupid, Fool. Promise me you’ll get a paternity test.”

“I will.”

“Promise me.”

“All right, man. Damn. I promise.”

“Good. Now, genius, how are the three of you gonna live in your small, barely two-bedroom apartment in my house?”

“We’ll get by. It’ll only be temporary until I find a steadier job.”

“Please don’t give me that ‘we’ll-survive-on-love’ bullshit you were spewing the last time I saw you. Love doesn’t pay the bills. You know that lazy heifer isn’t going to work. How do you expect to keep up her lifestyle and take care of yourself and a baby?”

“I’ll be sacrificing a lot. She’ll have to make some sacrifices too.”

“Brother, you’re delusional if you think that woman’s gonna let go of her cushy life to be with you and a half-breed child.”

With every word Scout spoke, I realized more and more how unprepared I was.

“I’ve got another question for you since you think everything’s gonna be so happily-ever-after. Do you even have a crib? A car seat? Anything?”

I sighed. “No.”

“So, where’s the kid gonna sleep, Fool?”

“Well, I was hoping I could use all the stuff you and Rhea bought when she was pregnant.”

There was a long pause before he answered. “That’s asking a lot, man. It was hard enough convincing Rhea to let you stay upstairs. I don’t know if she’ll be cool with you using those things.”

“She’ll be all right. Tell her it’ll be therapeutic to see everything being put to good use.”

Scout ignored my response and asked another question. “Is Vickie going to breast-feed, or is she doing formula?”

“I don’t know.”

“You know that woman isn’t going to do anything that’ll make her tits sag, and formula and diapers aren’t cheap.”

“We’ll handle it.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to do when her husband tells Mr. Davis, and he cuts you off from working? How are you going to pay for anything then?”

“Maybe he won’t.”

“You gotta be real about this shit, brother.”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s the problem. You never think before you act, and I always end up having to clean up your shit. It’s nice that you brought another member into our family, but it isn’t good that you have no way to take care of your baby.”

“I know, Scout. I’m sorry. I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

“Well, I hope this child forces you to grow up.”

“She will.”

“All right. Keep me posted on that paternity test.”

“I’ll let you know when the results prove the baby’s mine.”

“You do that. I’ll talk to you later.”

After we hung up, I walked to the nursery and looked through the window.

“Excuse me. Mr. Johnson?” Dr. Turner said, tapping me on the shoulder.

“Oh, hey, Doctor.”

“Is everything all right?”

“Yeah. I’m just looking at my daughter.”

“Well, I don’t blame you. She’s beautiful,” he said, then turned to walk off.

“Hey, Dr. Turner . . .”

“Yes?”

“While you’re running those tests, can you add a paternity one to the list?”

“I figured that might come up. Yes, we’ll add it to the rest of the tests.”

I leaned in close and whispered, “Do you mind not bringing this up in front of Vickie?”

With a sympathetic smile, he assured me, “Don’t worry. We never had this conversation.”

He shook my hand and went on his way.

I watched my daughter sleeping, her face so angelic and innocent, and one thought crossed my mind . . . Am I ready for this journey?

I tiptoed into Vickie’s room, doing my best not to wake her. I quietly moved a chair close to her bed, sat down, and nodded off. My dreams reflected on the months and events that had led to that very moment . . .

“Start with the kitchen,” Frank instructed.

I nodded.

“Don’t cut any fucking corners. I want this place mint. You got that?”

I nodded again.

“Follow me,” he said with a snap of his fingers.

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I gave him the finger as soon as his back was turned.

He was a real guido. He had an olive color complexion and wore a partially buttoned polo shirt that displayed his gold chains and chest hair. He was a cocky asshole that always talked with his hands. He was in decent shape, and some of the other workers told me he had Mafia connections, but I wasn’t intimidated.

We walked around his huge house in Garden City. I hated rich assholes like him, who spoke to me like I wasn’t shit. Frank felt he was God because the six successful businesses he owned throughout Brooklyn and Long Island made him wealthy.

“In my bedroom, I want that wall knocked down and the bathroom retiled. I want the hardwood floors sanded and waxed,” he instructed as he pushed open the door.

A woman nervously jumped, caught in the middle of changing her clothes. She was topless, and I won’t lie. I stared at her tits.

“Hey. Turn your fucking head. My wife isn’t decent.”

I rolled my eyes but did as he asked. He was a dick, but I knew the job would take a while, and that meant good money for me.

“I’ve got the fucking help here, and you’re walking around like you’re on a Playboy shoot. Put something on, Vickie!”

“All right. Calm down already. I had no idea you were coming in here,” she snapped.

Frank snapped his fingers. “You. What’s your name again?”

I kept my head turned and answered, “Nick.”

“Nick, turn back around and look at what I’m fucking showing you.”

The guy was testing my patience, especially with all that finger-snapping. I was about to lose it when Mr. Davis walked in with his son, Chris, and my coworker, Vince.

“Gentlemen, is everything all right?” Mr. Davis asked.

“I hope so. Your guy seems to have an attitude problem that needs some adjusting. You think your boys can handle what I’m asking for, Davis?”

“My men are capable and willing. I wouldn’t allow anyone to work on your house if I didn’t think he was competent enough to do the job right.”

“All right. I trust you, Davis. Your guys did some nice custom work on a house for a friend of mine, so I’m counting on the word-of-mouth and trusting they’ll do the same here,” Frank said.

“You have my word. I’ll personally check over everything, and I’ll be here to assist and supervise with the jobs on weekends.”

“Perfect.”

“Mr. De Luca, can you go over all the particulars again with Vincent and my son?”

“Sure thing.”

Mr. Davis turned toward me with a scowl on his face. “Nick, I need to talk to you in the hallway . . . now,” he said.

I nodded. “Yes, sir.”

As soon as we stepped out in the hallway, Mr. Davis moved close to my face and said, “Nick, this job is bringing in good money to my business. I’m expecting you to act like a responsible gentleman. Be here on time, follow instructions, and be respectful to this man and his wife.”

“I’m trying my best, but he—”

“I don’t need you to try, Nick. I need you to do. That includes not showing up to work drunk. You understand me, son?”

I gritted my teeth, struggling to keep my attitude in check. I knew if Mr. Davis felt I was sassing or showing him the slightest bit of disrespect, he’d pull me from the job, and I’d fall even farther behind on my bills.

“Your father, God rest his soul, wouldn’t have needed a pep talk like this.”

I fucking hated when he insinuated that I was a disappointment, that I somehow dishonored my father or was a disgrace to his memory, but I knew I couldn’t complain about that either.

“Trust me, son. I know Frank’s an ass, but his mind-set toward Blacks is deeply rooted. You can either reinforce it and lose out on making money or show him, through hard work, that you’re better than what he thinks of you.”

I stayed quiet. I wanted to fight and argue my case, but there’s not much you can say when you’re broke. I wanted to tell Mr. Davis that this man’s money wasn’t worth being disrespected and losing my pride over, but I was desperate. Honestly, I needed this job. I barely had money to eat, and I couldn’t keep asking my brother to help me out. It was bad enough I rarely paid him rent.

Mr. Davis went back to talk to Frank, leaving me to wonder if the money was worth the hassle. In the end, I decided that it was.

By Friday afternoon, Vince and I were exhausted. We spent the entire week making all sorts of improvements on the house, yet we still hadn’t made a dent in Frank’s long to-do list. Considering the amount of money he was pouring into so many upgrades, I thought he would be better off buying a new house.

Vince and I were putting up the crown molding in the living room when I heard Frank and his wife arguing in their bedroom. I walked over to the stairwell to get a better earful.

“What are you doing?” Vince asked.

“I want to know what they’re fighting about.”

“You’re crazy, man. If they catch you eavesdropping, it’ll be your ass.”

I waved him off and crept up the steps near the door.

“Fuck you,” Vickie screamed.

“Calm down. She’s nothing to me, all right?”

“Nothing to you? You’ve been fucking the bitch for God knows how long, knocked her up, and she’s nothing?”

“Settle down, Victoria. I told you I’d take care of it.”

“I don’t want to hear that, Frank. I want to hear that you’ll stop fucking cheating on me. I’m here for you every night to fuck you and suck your dick. You won’t touch me, but you’re always fucking these whores. Am I not good enough for you? What do they give you that I don’t? Is this because we don’t have kids?”

“Cut the fucking pity party. I said I’d take care of it.”

Vickie was crying, and the bickering got loud to the point where I couldn’t understand them. The yelling turned to screams and sounds of physical fighting. I heard loud slaps, and a thud hit the floor, then more of Vickie’s sobs.

The door flew open. I rushed down the stairs and pretended to work as if I never heard their scuffle.

Frank stormed into the living room, snatched his keys off the coffee table, and headed for the door, but he noticed me staring at him.

“What the fuck are you looking at? Mind your business and get back to work. I don’t pay you to drag your feet,” he said.

I turned my head and measured the next piece of molding as Frank stomped out and slammed the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, I turned to walk back up the steps.

“Nick, c’mon, man. Leave her be. Let’s just get this shit done and stay outta these white folks’ business,” Vince pleaded.

“I’m just checking on her. I’ll be right back.”

When I got upstairs, the bedroom door was partially open. I peeked in and saw Vickie lying on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Mrs. De Luca?” I said as I gently knocked on the door.

“What do you want?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” I slowly pushed the door open and helped her off the floor.

“I’ll be okay. Thanks.”

I nodded and headed out the door.

“Wait. Stay a minute,” she said.

I tilted my head to the side.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You’re the only person who seems to give a shit about my feelings today. The least we can do is have a drink and talk a little.”

Our conversation started with the usual bullshit generic questions, but one drink led to finishing three bottles of wine and talking for nearly four hours. On his way out the door, Vince shook his head as he stared at Vickie and me drinking and laughing.

“Frank hasn’t touched me in over a year,” Vickie said, opening up to me about practically everything.

I shook my head, took another sip of wine, looked her up and down, and said, “That’s crazy.”

“Most of the time, he doesn’t even come home, and when he does, he claims he’s too tired because he works so hard to build an empire for the two of us. I’m not stupid. I know he’s fucking other women. They call the house all the time, and he fucks so many that he doesn’t have the energy for me. I was with him before he had money, you know.”

“He doesn’t appreciate what he has. If you were my woman, I’d be home every night.”

“Thanks,” Vickie said, blushing. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

I instantly regretted flirting with her, but I couldn’t help it. She was sexy, five-nine, with a gorgeous face, gray eyes, and those huge tits I’d already seen in all their naked glory. She was shapely, with an ass and hips that rivaled those of sistas. I was sure other brothas’ tongues were wagging whenever they saw her on the street, and I honestly couldn’t imagine Frank finding anything better than what he had at home. I guess behind every beautiful woman is a man who’s tired of her shit, I reasoned.

“He never takes me places, and we never do anything together. I get so lonely in this house all by myself. I don’t go out. I mean, I have friends, like Francine and Rosalie, and I hang out with them from time to time. They try to keep me company, but they mostly spend time with their husbands and families. I’ve got no one, Nick. I have this big, fancy house, and I’m all alone in it.”

“Well, you have me now.”

“Thanks. You’re easy to talk to.”

“It’s no problem. Look, it’s Friday night, and we’re both young. Let’s go out tonight.”

I figured she would shut me down and put me in my place, but she surprised me when she said, “Okay. Where are we headed?”

We drove into Manhattan, and I took her to Copacabana. I had money in my pocket since Mr. Davis had just paid me. I still hadn’t put a cent toward my bills, but I decided, fuck it. I’ll worry about that stuff later. Tonight, I’m going to enjoy myself.

We walked into the club, and all eyes were immediately on us. Some of the white couples and even the Black ones glared at us and shook their heads. I heard their jeers and snide comments, and I was sure Vickie heard them too, but I still proudly held her hand and walked her to the dance floor.

We had a good time dancing and drinking. Vickie was skeptical at first, worried that we stood out too much. She also feared she’d bump into someone she knew, but after she had a few more drinks in her system, she lost all inhibitions.

When it was all over, I drove her home. As she had mentioned earlier, Frank still wasn’t there.

“Thank you so much for tonight, Nick. I really needed that.”

“It was my pleasure.”

I couldn’t recall who initiated what, but before I knew it, we were kissing and groping each other in my car.

“Yes . . .” Vickie said, moaning.

I rubbed my fingers against her opening and slid a finger inside her.

Vickie’s eyes fluttered closed, and she threw her head back against the headrest as my finger curled and massaged her G-spot.

“Oh God, keep going,” she begged.

I rubbed the head of her clit with my thumb, teasing her until it was swollen and throbbing. Vickie squirmed in her seat, clutching the fabric. Her breathing quickened into short, hard gasps. I saw the flush rise in her cheeks. Her body trembled and twitched as she came.

“Holy shit,” Vickie whispered, with longing in her eyes, her loneliness on display, and I could tell she hadn’t experienced passion like that in a long time.

When she rubbed her hands down my jeans, I finally came to my senses and stopped her. I looked around to make sure her neighbors hadn’t seen us.

“We have to stop before we go too far.”

Vickie sighed. “I know.”

“I had fun tonight. We should hang out again soon.”

“You promise?” she asked.

Her face told me she was serious about the question.

“I promise.”

She smi. . .