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After I’m done, I don’t even bother getting dressed; instead, towel drying and taking two acetaminophens for my head. Then, with a glass of water and a heart full of regrets, I climb between my sheets and try to find sleep, and hopefully hide away from the world.
It’s then, lying there naked, the silky sheets rubbing my skin, that I come to the realization I can still feel the ghost of Dan’s touch. The shower did nothing to banish it, and worse, I’m still burning for him.
Resigned, I close my eyes and give in to the memories of the way he touched me and how incredible it felt, tracing my own fingers over the path his took only hours before. Except I gofurther, and where I touch myself, the fantasy that I’m playing out in my head follows suit. If his dad hadn’t walked in, Dan would have slid the straps of my dress down my shoulders, freeing my breasts for his eyes, hands, and mouth to feast on. I pinch them myself, wishing it was his mouth.
When I drag my hand down my entire body, I see Dan kneeling on the floor in front of me, working my wet panties down my legs, and then his dark head as he kisses up my leg, to my thigh, and finally, between my legs, pushing each one wide so he can taste me in full.
The imagery is so erotic, so taboo, that I can’t stop thinking about Dan’s tongue between my legs. I see him looking up at me, his mouth on my clit, while in reality my fingers work furiously on myself.
I don’t even get to thinking about him fucking me, because the imagery of him eating me out is too much all on its own. I come with my own fingers and the orgasm is the strongest I’ve ever been able to give myself, and I’m able to drag it out longer and longer with my hands.
After I’m finally finished, all my muscles go limp, and I lay in bed panting, the quivers still shooting up and down my legs. I have just a few weeks to plan my eighteenth birthday, and I have to figure out how to force Dan to come. I’m afraid he’ll be reluctant after our recent time alone. Not because he doesn’t want me, though, but because he’s too eager.
With contentment thrumming through me now, I close my eyes once more and drift off to sleep, my last conscious thought that I want Dan to be eager at my party. Just as much as I am for him.
16
Amsterdam, May 22, 2022
Dan
Rolling over,I stretch my arms above my head and breathe out slowly. After the chaos of the previous night, my bed had felt like a welcome reprieve, an oasis all my own, where I could pretend that I hadn’t made an enormous mistake just hours beforehand. That was last night though, and this morning, the reality of what Elise and I had done is hitting me full force once more.
Even scarier is what wealmostdid. The only saving grace of the whole ordeal was that we didn’t go all the way. If we had, I don’t know if I could forgive myself. Not because I don’t want Elise, because I do––so intensely that I miss her even now––but because of the promise I made to my best friend, and the fact that his sister deserves more than someone like me who can never be more than a friend with benefits.
We aren’t meant for each other. It’s as simple as that.
Too bad staying away from her isn’t going to be nearly as simple. Her insistence that I attend her birthday would be cute coming from anyone else, but from Elise, a girl that alwayshas some sort of plan or machination in mind, the invite is dangerous. Combine that with how close she and I were last night, and it’s a recipe for trouble. Big, big trouble.
There’s one thought that bounces around in my head when it’s quiet and there's nothing else on my mind:Would it be different if it wasn’t for Andries? Would I pursue Elise if there were no strings attached?
She’s gorgeous, of course, and she draws me in with little more than a look. Her mind is as sharp as a whip and she holds her intelligence close to her chest until she needs it, striking out like a snake and obliterating anyone or anything that stands in her way. As a more laid-back person, someone who likes to enjoy the finer things in life at a slower pace, Elise’s ambitions should be a turnoff for me, but they are anything but. Maybe because she’s my opposite in that way, and as the saying goes, opposites attract.
So, yeah… I think I would pursue her if there weren’t so many chains holding us back if only to see where it could lead. One part of me thinks that a woman like Elise would be my endgame; the girl I settle down with forever, and I’m not sure if I am ready for that. The other part thinks that we might burn hot and bright for some time before our differences become too much and we fizzle out.
There’s no reason to even think about those things, though. Andries is standing in our way, and my loyalty to him has to supersede everything else. Even if it means that I might miss out on my perfect match.
We could really be brothers one day if he would just get the stick out of his ass and let his sister make her own choices.
The idea of it makes my heart feel soft and vulnerable, and I’m considering just going back to bed to avoid how terrible it all makes me feel. I’m not a soft-hearted man when it comes torelationships. I want sex and opulent times with the women I choose from time to time, not love. At least, not usually.
There’s no way I’m going to go back to sleep and avoid the day any longer. My stomach growls, and it’s the last straw. With a groan, I throw the blanket off and sit on the edge of the mattress, rubbing my eyes and waiting for the inevitable dull pounding hangover headache. Spotting a few aspirins and a glass of water beside my bed, I mentally thank the butler and wash the pills down swiftly.
A hot shower and the avoidance of any more self-reflection does wonders for my mood, and by the time I’m walking out into the backyard to find my parents, I’m feeling much more like myself. No more mopey Dan today, not if I can help it.
Mom and Dad are taking breakfast outdoors, and even though it’s still early, any evidence of the party has been cleaned up and done away with. I’m surprised at how quickly it can all disappear, and the world can go back to normal.
Then I lock eyes with my Dad, and the memory of why Elise and I stopped when we did hits me full force, and now I’m feeling anything but normal. More like I want to crawl under a table and hide away until the humiliation of being caught making out with a family friend by my own Dad can subside. But Mom is waving me over, and I can smell the coffee from here. Dad’s favorite brew, no doubt, an impossibly dark Italian roast that has been painstakingly brewed by the pour-over method. It’s not blooming tea, but it should get rid of the dregs of my headache. A small consolation for the embarrassment I’m about to endure.
I relax a little when I reach the table, because Mom greets me just as she normally would, which tells me that Dad hasn’t informed her of my little escapades last night. I slide him a look and he nods once, sharply, reading my thoughts in the way thatdads always can. I’m grateful for his secret-keeping, so the least I can do is be a good breakfast companion for them.
“You only look partially hungover, dear,” Mom says, raising her eyebrows. “For such a big party, I didn’t expect to see you up until well into the afternoon.”
“We all have to grow up sometime,” I reply, spearing a few pieces of sausage and moving them to my plate. “I hope all the youths didn’t wear you two out.”
“Nonsense.” Mom laughs. “I can still keep up with the best of them.”
Patting her knee, Dad smiles at her fondly. “I had to talk her out of breakfast mimosas, actually,” he confesses.
