It was a fantastic lie. My half-retarded hamster was running at full steam today.
Blair stammered for a second, but she was more than sharp enough to catch on. She replied, “Yeah, I was thinking Bo Du Valet for the starters. Then we’ll take a cab over to Monte’s–” She winks. “–for old times sake. And from there…” She sighs. “…I’m really at a loss here, Mason. It’s Brooke’s wedding. She only gets one. I really want it to be special.”
The moment Blair mentioned “wedding,” Mom visibly melted. “Oh, the nostalgia! What about Poppin’ Hill? Me and your father…”
“Mom!” I don’t even need to act. I am seriously grossed out here.
She chuckled and gave me a wry smile.
I pinched my brow, couldn’t help it.
“Um…actually I had a place in mind, but I don’t know if Brooke would like it,” Blair says. “Mason, think you could take a look?”
“Uh…” I turned to Mom, who was positively lost in wedding thrills. She bopped me on the bum.
“Go, go…” Then Mom winked. “I’ll tell Dad that Coach Grindstone was having an…an…” She tapped her lips and thinks. “I don’t know.”
Blair spoke up, “Isn’t Homecoming next week? I’m sure the tassels and other last minute things need hung in the auditorium.”
Mom lit up. “Blair dear, you are devious.” Then she scooted me along. “Go!”
Once Mom shooed me out the door. She slammed it behind me. Though, looking back, I did see the curtains ruffle in the foyer. Mom’s face peeked out between them, and I noticed her smile had fallen. Worse–her eyes narrowed into a viscous glare at the girl who had come calling for me. It was just a brief flash, then Mom smiled and waved at us. You kids have fun!
Honestly, I should care, but I really don’t.
I turned to look at Blair, who was surprisingly wearing normal clothing, at least normal for her. Blair wore only a cheap beige frock, something akin to a potato sack that draped loose over her waist and thighs, yet stretched tight over the waist and bum she could never hide. Even more strangely, all her piercings are out. No off-color lipstick, just a glossy sheen. Her hair draped down perfectly straight, smooth, and conditioned. She kicked at the sidewalk in her plain white trainers. I truly couldn’t decide if this was her version of dressing to impress. I guess it all depended on whether she thought she was being purposefully weird before.
“Hi, Blair,” I said.
She looked up, her plump lips curled into a slight smile, and she motioned to a gaudily wrapped Eclipse, something like mother of pearl. “Take a ride?”
“Uh…” I glanced back. Mom was no longer watching us through the window. “Sure.”
She led me to her car, even opened the door for me. Despite her courtesy, my linebacker frame sliding into her little foreign coupe was definitely a tight squeeze. She did help me fiddle with the seat lever, and once it was adjusted for maximum room, the space was…tolerable for six foot four. Blair strolled around the car, a definite strut of her ass, and she crawled into the driver’s seat. We took off. It was early evening. The streetlamps strobed by, and we sat in silence. I was transfixed by her off-handed gear changes. I’d never learned to drive a stick shift and seeing her even going so far as to rev the engine and–I think–double-clutch the transmission, I was mesmerized. Dad will you teach me? Maybe I could ask her someday, that was, if I could work up the nerve.
The thing was, I’d never quite known what to do with Blair. I think that was the biggest failing between us, the reason why me and her were never true friends like me and Sophie were.
Oh! Sophie. I whipped out my phone and scrolled to the latest text. “Twenty seven and a quarter inches, now. That’s how big Sophie’s gotten!” I could hardly contain the excitement in my own voice.
Blair caught on. “A whole half an inch. I swear, she’s about ready to bust out the micrometers.”
I smiled like a fool as Blair steered the car into the empty back half of a Dillon’s parking lot.
****************************
“Wait, stop,” my sister interrupts the story. “You went to a Dillon’s?”
I scratched my wrist and turned away, but Brooke grabbed my chin and forced me to look at her.
“She crammed you into her Eclipse and drove you to a Dillon’s?”
“Honestly at that point, I thought it was for groceries and cardio.”
Brooke shook her head. “No, like, she owns an Escalade, Mason.”
Wait, what? My eyes got big. “That bitch!”
“Uh, yeah.” My sister nodded along.
I guess she didn’t want to stain the seats or something? I don’t say that to Brooke, but it does take me a second to calm down before I tell her the next part.
****************************
Blair put the car in park, turned to me, and just stared, dead silent for a good minute. Finally, the first syllable of a word caught, and she said, “Mason, I know I’m not Sophie, like, we–” She motioned between us. “–don’t have the same thing you and her do, and…oh God…” She buried her face in her hands.
I hear her huff out a laugh. “I don’t even like cock, Mason. I don’t know, maybe I should just get a turkey baster?” She was just mumbling to herself now. I didn’t know how to take this interaction. Even more than that, this was certainly the most unsettled that I’ve ever seen this girl. “Would you cum in a turkey baster for me–?” She held up her hand. “No, sorry, don’t answer that.”
She reached over, took my hands, looked me right in the eye, and said, “I want what Sophie’s got.” She patted her stomach. “With her all excited running around, doing measurements everyday, and I just…I feel empty in here. I really want a family.” She pursed her lips and looked down. “It seems more special if our kids are, you know, actually related.”
I pulled away from her grip and took a moment to gather my thoughts. I understood where she was going with this, but…
“You’re saying–” I took a deep breath. “–you want my kid because it’ll feel a bit more special for DNA reasons?”
“Uh…yeah. That, uh, that is what I mean.”
“Oh.”
That didn’t feel good to hear such brutal honesty. At least she had the grace to appear remorseful. Still, I guess this was what I was worth to her. But then again, I did impregnate her girlfriend. Maybe I owed her this?
I looked around the car. It was immaculate, but I asked anyway. “You got that turkey baster or something?”
Blair’s eyes flashed. “Yes!” She pulled a plastic Dixie cup out of her purse, handed it to me. She had this planned.
And it was all so clinical, so detached, so insane.
I looked at the plastic cup, deciding. “Is…does Sophie want this?”
“Oh my God, you have no idea, Mason. She really does. When my test came up negative, when we checked the calendar and realized we were off by a week, she…she just said, ‘That’s okay. We still got mine.’ But it wasn’t. I could see that on her face. And–” Blair’s eyes went wide. “–oh fuck, I’m pressuring you. Don’t do this if you don’t…or think that you have to…or…” She shook her head. “I don’t even know what I want to say here.”
“Alright,” I said, “I’ll do it for Sophie. Just…don’t look.”
Blair nodded, deathly serious. She reached into the back seat and handed me a towel. I wasn’t even surprised at her preparations at this point. I draped that towel over my head and situated it over my. My fingers fiddle fucked around until they were able to unzip my jeans, holding the Dixie cup between my legs. You’re such a bitch, Mason.
This was so weird, so fucked up.
I pulled out my, unsurprisingly, very flaccid cock and began to stroke my uncircumcised foreskin over the head, hiding myself underneath the towel.
“Do you want some music or something…?” I heard her fiddle with the dials.
And I don’t know, bitchy me comes out and I snap back, “No, Blair, I don’t want any music. Just be quiet.”
She listened.
There was no eroticism here, just on pure stimulation alone, somehow I managed to bring myself to orgasm and squirt into the cup. The plastic side walls echo hollow against each spurt, like I just rung Dixie. I zipped up my pants, threw the towel into the backseat, and handed Blair my cupful of goo.
I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. ‘It was all for Sophie,’ I tell myself over and over again. My, Oh God, my baby momma.
“Can we go?” I asked without looking.
I heard her shift the car into drive. We lurched forward–maybe a few feet at most, then she slammed on the brakes, slapped the car into park, and I heard a chiming noise as she opened her door. Then there was the hollow rattle of a Dixie cup being dropped on the ground.
That got my attention. I peeked. Her door was open, and over her lap, I could see a plastic Dixie cup blowing away and a splash of cum smeared across the asphalt in its wake.
Blair gazed at it longingly.
Something about this snapshot in time…sigh.
My God. What has my life become?
“I’m an asshole,” she mumbled and slammed the door shut. She banged her head against the steering wheel, then with her forehead pressed against it, peeked over at me. She said, “I don’t hate cock. Like, if I really think about it, yeah, there’s no intimacy to what it’s attached to, but I do like the feeling. And Mason…” She grabbed my hand, caressed it there. “…I really do like you. Not, well, you know, in the same way that Sophie does, and not like, uh, well, your sister does–”
********************************
“That bitch!” Brooke interrupts to say.
I guess Blair wasn’t supposed to tell me that?
Brooke sees the look on my face. “No, not that. Of course, I love you, stupid.”
I begin to speak, but she puts her finger to my lips. “Yes,” she says, “I mean in that way.” She indicates down to my naked body cuddling into her fully clothed one–save for my cock that she’s pinched between the pantyhose on her thighs.
Brooke shakes her head and in a huff, she’s pawing around her pockets until she finds her phone. She swipes the screen and types something out, Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap., scoffs, and puts the phone away in her pocket, muttering, “that fucking bitch.”
Then she cuddles in, kisses me on the lips, and smiles. “Well? Fucking continue.”
Sigh I think I have a type.
***************************************
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