• 13 •
"Mom, you're too old to become an acrobat," my head shook in dismay at my mother's midlife decisions. Dream big, she always says, and of course the woman would live by her own line.
I imagined her putting one hand on her hip. It's gesture she's been accustomed to and is equivalent to an eye roll. After a sigh, she spoke again, "Who are you to tell me who I can and can't be?"
I pinched the bridge of my nose. Sometimes I feel like I'm the parent, "I don't know whether to laugh or be worried since you sound so serious," I said.
"I am serious," replied the woman in a tone that proved it.
"And what does your husband say about it, hm?" I bit into my third cheeseburger. Cheeseburgers for dinner; that's it, that's the life.
My mom's laugh was suggestive and I wish I had never asked the question. Her reply came dripping with mischief, "He's supportive, thank you very much. When I learn how to bend, it only means he can hit it from—"
"Don't. Don't finish that sentence," I cut her off and looked down at my cheeseburger, appetite running for the hills with its hands covering its ears. Poor appetite.
Lauren Alexie decided to mock me further, dragging my love life and/or sex life into the conversation, "Not my fault you're not getting some."
"Mom!" I exclaimed, "Just because I don't have a boyfriend doesn't mean I'm not getting some."
"Oh?" she began, "Should I expect a grandchild?"
"Mom," I groaned and hoped that my agony reached her as a hand to the mouth. I liked this woman better when she was complaining about leaves in her front yard. "Go do some stretches," I added.
"I shall," she sang, "Love you, Gigi."
"I love you too," I hung up right after and stared at my burger. I shuddered at Lauren Alexie's naked body in my head. She's my mother and we're close; of course I've seen her naked. Sparing the sandwich for later, I put it inside my fridge.
After one human being who I love had annoyed me, another came knocking on my door. I found myself wondering if this is what Keenan feels on Saturdays and then cursed Gia for reminding herself of Keenan. Keenan can go fuck himself.
The hallway greeted me with a semi-casual Ralph who I assume had just arrived from work. I can say goodbye to the cheeseburger I spared. I let him in and sure enough, the first on his itinerary was my kitchen. As the man raided my fridge, I plopped back on my bed, placing my PC on my lap.
"I've been talking with Adderall's friend," he began, naming my crush after a drug, "I'll meet her this Friday unless Janella wants to—"
"That woman's taken," I reminded him, also reminding myself that Keenan, too, is taken. My eyes did a sweep-over of the text on my device
Ralph spoke before he bit into my cheeseburger, "You're their relationship savior now?"
I hugged my purple bear to my chest. She smells like Adil, "I am," I muttered against the fury inanimate object. My answer had Ralph laughing teasingly and boy, did I wanna shove the burger down his throat.
There's a reason why Keenan and Janella settled with that they have going on. Whatever it is, it's perfect for both of them and I don't want me nor anyone else ruining it. I'm doing it for Janella more than I'm doing it for Keenan. Jan is a sweetheart and Keenan is a bitch in a thirty-three-year-old man's body.
"We're not ruining anything, Ralph. We're staying in our lane," I said to my friend who not only stole my burger but also robbed me of a chocolate bar.
"Sounds like Keenan is ruining it himself." Ralph stated what had to be acknowledged.
I licked my lips and thought, gaze penetrating the rooftop, "He knows that once the program is over he'll never see any of us again. Keenan's only messing around and I just have to survive three more sessions."
Ralph gave me a look that told me that he did not believe shit I said. Instead of prolonging the conversation about Keenan Travino, he uttered two words that I greatly needed, "Good luck."
With that, I made the impulsive decision to not attend our Wednesday meeting tomorrow. As Ralph worked in my balcony, eyes glued to his tablet as he composed an article, I took my phone out and typed a simple message to Keenan, one telling him that I won't be able to make it the next day. His reply came quick and short: Why?
Gia: Personal issues, sir. Don't pry.
I sent and hoped that the two words at the end would stop him from wondering because if I know Keenan, I know that his mind sees everyone as puzzles. Once he figures something out, it's hell for whoever was trying to keep that thing in. I was proven correct when his next reply had me wishing that I can fly to Cuba and forget about my life in a matter of ten minutes.
Kiki: Are you avoiding me?
And I wanted to tell him that not everything revolves around him. Instead, I replied with a simple no. I didn't want to be too defensive, I only wanted to be distant. A lone word was enough to send the message. Keenan once again left me with no reply and like the first time, it killed me from the gut.
I still haven't figured all of him out, but at least I know a bit more than what Adil, Jess, and Slater know. For beginners, they haven't seen Keenan's long dick, and I have.
If Keenan were a character of a book, it's easy to assume that he has a broken past. With a stomach full of liquor and a mouth full of smoke, Keenan Travino might be dragging a tragedy behind his tail (his big, long, thick tail). I was then reminded of a quote from Scott Fitzgerland in The Side of Paradise. If I remember correctly, it's 'Show me a hero, and I'll write you a tragedy'.
And if the man is a tragedy, is there a hero within him? After Janella mentioned that Keenan isn't too bad of a person, I found myself hoping to get to know him. I can't pinpoint the exact reason. It might be because he's fucking hot. It might be because he's been one of my idols and of course I wanna be close with someone who I looked up to. Maybe it's just because he's caught my interest—all of him has caught my interest. Heck, maybe I'm a sucker for men like Keenan and am only discovering it now. Whatever reason it might be, I'd like to say that it's irrelevant.
The bottom line is that my curiosity will get me killed. I should stop being curious.
Since Wednesday afternoon had been cleared for me, I accepted a deal to write a book review for a series I've read in college. I didn't get work done for my book, but at least I made money. At this point in my life, I gain whenever I write—be it financial aid, development, or project progress.
In the same cafe I had last been to, I ordered the same drink because it's fucking delicious. I shut my eyes tightly after feeling strain around their openings due to hours of staring at a screen. I should get some reading glasses.
Keenan looks good with his glasses.
Feeling shameful for thinking constantly about that bloke, I shoved my last oatmeal cookie into my mouth. It lessened the stress.
Fortune a kilometer from me, stress came jogging back when I saw Jess again through the same window with the same forbidden lover. I palmed my forehead. Why am I constantly thrown into other people's relationships?
I watched as they parted after a kiss, the man heading to his car and Jessica turning to my direction. Her eyes fell on me and I felt like falling down a mystical hole that magically appears from the ground. Sadly, there was no hole and all I could do was stare back at the woman through the window.
I'm not close with Jessica, but her look was cold. It was chilling. It was a warning and a punishment in one. I dropped my gaze and from my peripheral vision, watched as she walked around the establishment, reached the door, and appeared on the other side of my table. I lifted my head. Jessica looked around, visibly anxious.
"Don't tell him," the woman spoke, her tone meaning no funny business of any sort. I gulped. So it is forbidden. Jessica is cheating. Ralph was right: it's a trend.
At a loss for the right reply, I settled with "I'll try," which Jessica found angering.
She gnawed at her lip, a gesture of nervousness, yet her her eyes were glaring butcher's knives at me. Jessica spoke, "Mind your own business, Gianna. You don't know anything."
The girl didn't try to lie nor defend herself. She knows that I saw the kiss and there was no getting around it. If she were to lie about having an open relationship, then there'll be no reason for me to keep my mouth shut to Slater other than not wanting to get involved with the two. Jess is oblivious that I don't.
I felt minutes pass, but they were truly only seconds. Jessica's scowl was so cold it froze clocks. Once the woman felt like she's scared me enough which, by the way, she didn't—only made me uncomfortable, she excused herself, "I gotta go."
Awkwardly, without another word, she left with her fierce expression etched permanently. I found myself muttering 'What the fuck?' for the nth time this month.
My mood took a turn and I decided to call it a day. I bought a bag of cookies and walked to Lemon. I rode the cute yellow car until I reached my apartment. It was one of those days perfect for questioning one's life direction.
When I had my shoes shrugged off, my phone dinged. A groan sounded from me as I threw myself on my bed and suffocated Thistle. I narrowed my eyes at the sender's name.
Kiki: Have the next chapter ready by Saturday.
Kiki: Raw is okay.
I suppressed the urge to make an innuendo out of raw being okay. Keenan Travino and sexual thoughts should stay lobes apart in my brain because in a second, my mind decided to disappoint Pastor Jonathan once again. If the old man of the Lord could read minds, he'd faint after reading my internal 'I bet Keenan's cock feels amazing when it's raw and inside of me'.
Raw. I repeated the word. Since when did it sound so sexy?
Well, since you started imagining Keenan's voice saying it.
"I'm fucked," I whispered to myself. For the rest of my lonely night, I warded off all thoughts Keenan and failed awfully. It was like failing a Calculus exam all over again.
The next day, I was still dealing with the long chain of afterthoughts when Adil appeared in my apartment. He was clad in his usual style: black, grays, white. Specifically black pants, a gray shirt, white shoes, and a black jacket. His sunglasses peeked out of his jacket's front pocket. Despite modern-day's offer for ways that may enable a man like him to see color, Adil doesn't want to see color. The shades are only for regulating brightness that comes with being light-sensitive.
I let him into my place. "What's up? Why didn't you go to Travino's yesterday?" he wondered as he strode in. Adil took the freedom to sit on my bed and snuggle my purple bear.
"I didn't feel well," I said while searching my fridge for two cans of soda. I walked to Adderall and offered him one, "I'm better now, but I have to finish a chapter by Saturday. Doesn't have to be perfect, though," as Keenan said: raw.
"They say 2,500 words a day is a healthy amount for an author," spoke Adil, "It's enough for a few well-written paragraphs. A brain shouldn't be overworked nor should it be idle. I can help you if you want," he held the bear's arms and waved them around. It was adorable.
I shook my head and sipped my drink, "It's my book. Plus, Keenan will find out. I don't trust his brain."
Adil raised an eyebrow, "You don't trust his brain?" he quoted.
"Yeah-huh," I shrugged. Then, I was not able to stop my voice from dropping into a whisper, "He always figures things out," should I stop talking?
"What do you mean?" Adil spoke. It's either his gut had told him to be keen or I really am just an easy-to-read book. It might be both.
I bounced my shoulders, answering indifferently, "Just that he's smart."
Adlib believed me, "Speaking of Keenan, are you going to his party?" he questioned.
I didn't have to think twice, "No. You?"
Adil's answer is one I didn't expect. The boy scratched the back of his head and I noticed how his hair had grown longer since the first session when we met. Adil muttered "Wouldn't it be rude not to? I talk to the man all the time."
I paused, "You do?" I tried not to sound surprised, but fuck, I sounded surprised. I know they're not on bad terms, and I know that they talk, but I didn't think that they communicate all the time.
"Of course you do," I said, "He's our mentor, it's his responsibility to help us in writing."
Adil pouted, "Yeah, and we talk about other things too."
I downed my Pepsi, "What things?" curiosity is murdering this kitty cat.
"Sometimes we talk about his sister. Sometimes about dogs, cars, Slater and his fuck ups, sometimes about you. A lot of things, really."
They talk about dogs, for goodness sake.
"What about me?" it was difficult not to ask.
Adil smiled reassuringly, dimples making themselves known, "Not much. We talk about your book and your yellow car. He found out I took you to that fun fair—doesn't seem to care much. He just said that we shouldn't be like Slate and Jess."
Doesn't care much, huh?
"Oh," was what I managed to say, "Of course. Cars and dogs are way more interesting than me."
For the next two hours that Adil spent in my apartment, I strayed us away from the topics mentorship and Keenan. I offered him dinner, but he declined, saying that he'll be somewhere with friends. It's odd to hear Adil talk about friends outside of our little circle.
When I showed him to the stairs, I reminded both of us, "Just so we're clear; there's nothing until the program ends, right?" I could've worded it better, but I trust that Adil knew I was talking about us. We're friends, but slightly more. Not dating exclusively, but seeing each other. It's one of those things that the world has yet to give a proper label to.
He smiled, "Yup."
I pointed my thumb to my door, "I gotta finish the chapter," I told him, "See you on Saturday."
As the days before our eighth session went by, I realized that everything in my life lately have just been barriers from getting to the damn mentoring sessions. They're like a series of commercials that I have to endure to get to the TV show and all its primetime drama. When I pulled up at one in the afternoon at Keenan's mansion, it was show time once again.
I pushed the buzzer and seconds later, Mr. Travino appeared at the front door. His white shirt hugged his body nicely. Among all possible thoughts, that was my first thought. Second was that his haircut suited him. Third is that I wanted him raw and I'm having problems dealing with all three.
He regarded me boredly and puffed smoke in my face. I'm going to get cancer from this man. I let myself in, the usual brushing-against-Keenan happening within a second. When my ass met the black cushion of the black couch, memories came rushing in.
"Where's the chapter?" asked Keenan.
I spoked honestly, "Not done yet, though I believe that as my mentor, you're here to help me."
"Yes," he told me, "I'll help you stay on track by pressuring you. Where the fuck is it?"
I rolled my eyes, "It's currently a pile of shit. I haven't been in the best state. Don't you ever feel like your head's broken?"
Keenan glared at me flatly. He crossed his big arms and leaned against a wall, "Glass doesn't break, it just multiplies. Your head's not broken, your thoughts are just all over the place."
I stared at him like I'm dense. He continued when I couldn't think of a good reply, "Just don't stop. Go do prompts or some shit if your mind needs a break from Terrence. Make sure you never let a day pass without thinking of ideas. When you discover something you're good at, never take it for granted," he held his hand out for my laptop.
I blinked a few times, "You should be a motivational speaker," I commented as I pulled the device out.
Keenan rolled his eyes, "And you should shut up."
Once I had my progress on the screen, I handed him the PC. I should buy something lighter. Keenan spoke again, "Let's check this crap upstairs," he muttered as one hand held it up and the other scrolled.
"Come on, girl," he cooed as if he were taunting a dog. He headed for the stairs and I followed close behind. To mock me further, he rubbed his fingers against his thumb, mimicking a hound owner.
"I'm not a dog," I reminded him once we made it at the top of the staircase.
"Can't tell, sorry," the man muttered.
He shoved open the double doors to his study, letting the wood swing to my face once he's passed. A gentleman indeed. Very chivalrous, so very kind.
Grumbling curses under my breath, I followed Keenan to his desk where he laid my laptop. He fell on his big chair and I stood beside him, watching his eyes follow line after line of my work. As always, his expression gave nothing away. Keenan is either on the highest level of professionalism or at the lowest. Never in the middle.
"A lot of errors," he mumbled, "I'll mark them and send it to you later. I think your style is changing. I'll comment on it further when I send the file."
"Thanks," I said. It was quiet right after and I took the chance to look around. Nothing new.
He opened another topic, "You ran into someone the other night?" the backrest carried Keenan's weight when he pushed himself back, arms resting on the arm rests and fingers drumming against its material.
"I ran into Janella, you obviously know that already," I said as I leaned my hip against his wooden table.
"What did she tell you?" asked Keenan. His face was still blank and still drop-six-feet-down gorgeous.
I scoffed, "You know that already too."
He narrowed his eyes at me, "Much as I want to tell you that you're correct, no, Janella didn't want to tell me. I couldn't get it out of her."
I was suddenly worried for Janella. 'Get it out of her' can mean two things and after finding out about Keenan's temper when we're not around, I dreaded the worst case scenario.
With clear concern, I asked, "Get it out of her?"
His face, as if it couldn't get more serious, turned more serious. Keenan's jaw ticked and it was a quick movement I would've missed if I had blinked, "I'd never hit a woman, Gianna. I'm talking about sex."
That had me nodding and refusing to acknowledge the negative feeling that shot through my tummy upon thinking of Keenan doing the dirty with Janella. I'm glad that the girl is not physically abused if this man is telling the truth. That matters more than my attraction to this man and the unnecessary possessiveness it brings. Keenan asked again, "What did Janella tell you?"
"Don't pry," I said to him.
He glared once again. His expressions change quickly, "You started it when you two talked about me."
I cocked my head to one side and stared at Mr. Travino, eyes zeroing in on his own pair, "And now I'm stopping it," I told the man.
His frown deepened as he gaped and judged me, maybe even thinking of a way to kill me in his head. When his expression softened, the lightbulb on his head lit up.
"I may not be able to get it out of Jan," Keenan began. His hands slowly made their way to mine, "But I can get it out of you."
He wrapped his fingers around my wrists and drew me closer. Once close enough, Keenan turned me and pulled me on top of him all in a blink of an eye. We had been in a similar position before.
Despite the bees in my stomach and the throb between my legs that had my mind haywire, I talked to Keenan, "You're complicating your life, Keenan. Mine too."
My breathing hitched when Keenan bunched my hair and kissed my neck. I shuddered against him and in a position like ours, my shudder and squirm had my behind moving deliciously against his lap. The man dragged his lips from under my ear to the back of my neck, one hand aiding my hair and the other gripping my hip.
"How? we'll never see each other again when this is over," he spoke against my neck and it made me fucking wet.
Keenan pulled me back, letting me rest against his chest. I asked one question that's been at the back of my mind all this time, "Why me?" and I sounded breathless.
The man's hands traced the waistband of my jeans until his fingers reached the button. He was quick to undo it. My pride should be stopping it, but it fled for the province. That little shit knew that deep down I wanted this.
He spoke against my shoulder and I felt his chest rumble as he did, "What do you mean why you?" he slowly undid my zipper and I watched, heart beating faster and faster as centimeter after centimeter was dragged down.
I pulled some courage out, "Do you do this to all mentees who stumble into your mansion?" he kissed my neck again and I writhed, back arching and hips grinding, "Why not Jessica?" stupid—you sound stupid, Gia, "Are you that bored?"
Keenan ignored me. He slipped his hand into my underwear and I felt like fainting. My head buzzed—everything buzzed. My head spun, my breathing turned shallow. His hand was cool against my skin at first, but when his fingers reached my slit, they felt hot.
"What was that?" Keenan asked sarcastically, referring to what I just said.
I spoke, and it sounded a lot more better in my head, "You little shit," my voice was like a squeak and I pity myself for not being able to stay composed in Keenan's hands.
"Huh?" Keenan teased further.
"You're a little shit," I rolled my eyes. Two pads spread the wetness all over my folds; slow, sensual movement. Teasingly, Keenan dipped a fraction of a finger in.
He ignored my words. After another kiss to my neck, on a spot that had shivers going down my spine, he slipped two fingers in.
"Are you always this wet when I'm around?" he wondered as he drew small circles against my walls. I glared and even though he couldn't see, I kept my scowl.
"Cocky," I muttered.
But the answer is yes.
He hooked his fingers to a spot and rubbed, pumping up and building pleasure. My hips bucked to ride his hand. My hips—fucking traitor.
"What did she tell you?" he asked again, referring to Jan. He rubbed faster, pumped harder. I felt his knuckles at my folds. Keenan rubbed his palm against the hood of my entrance, stimulating a spot that had my head falling back against his shoulder.
His unoccupied hand groped a breast, squeezing hard until I hurt my lower lip from biting. "I asked you a question," said Keenan.
I chose to ignore him. I expected him to stop and torture me and that's exactly what he did. Thing is, I need a release and I won't let Keenan stop me from getting it. Before he could talk again, I left him speechless by snaking my hand into my pants, right under his. I inserted two fingers of my own. Then, I moved for myself.
Despite my heavy breathing, I heard him gulp. With four digits inside of me, I was fucking stretched. Keenan's remained unmoving, but mine pushed against my favorite spot, eliciting moan after moan from my lips.
"Shit," when he whispered the word, pride shot through me. It didn't take long before I was unable to keep it in. An orgasm surged from my core, its waves made of thick pleasure that rocked me against Keenan. It was only then that he moved his fingers again. It prolonged the climax.
As I was sitting on Keenan, I was catching my breath. My head ached and the room was spinning. I closed my eyes and waited for the afterfeel to subside. I spoke to the man once it did, "You're not in love. You don't like complications. You don't want complications in your life. Again," I slipped my fingers out of me—Keenan's too, "Why me?"
My mentor watched quietly as I got to my feet and fixed my pants. There was a bulge in his, but I forced my eyes away from temptation.
There was a moment of solid thought before he spoke again, "You should appreciate yourself more."