Abby

1.

Abby wiped the steam from her mirror. A Britney Spears hit blared from her cell phone, bouncing off the bathroom walls. Abby sang along into her hairbrush, biting her lip and shimmying her shoulders, whipping her wet hair from side to side, twisting her hips to the floor and back. Then the phone rang, interrupting her first private concert in her brand new apartment. She checked the caller ID and took a deep breath before answering. "Hi, Mom..."

She let her towel fall to the floor and headed to the bedroom. Her empty apartment amplified every sound, from her mother's digitized voice, to her own wet footsteps thumping the hardwood floor.

"I'm fine, Mom," she said. "No, I didn't pause before I said 'fine,' Mom. I'm good... Because they mean the same thing, Mom..."

She rummaged through one of the various bags she was living out of, and found a pair of panties. She pulled them on and stood in front the sliding glass doors of her bedroom closet, posing, practicing her most flattering and trusted angles. She knew just how to tilt her head for maximum neck. She knew that her right side was inexplicably her best side. She smiled, frowned, puckered her lips, and stuck her tongue out. She took a deep breath and stood as straight as possible, sticking her breasts straight out. She turned around to get a better look at the rear view. Her ass was round and full, especially for a White girl. She wondered how that would fly now that she lived in Los Angeles, where winter clothes just meant wearing Uggs with your tights.

Abby exhaled and gave her body over to gravity. She ran her hand around her midsection and pinched herself - hard - just above her waistband.

"...No, Mom. I haven't found a gym here, yet..."

2.

Between the heat and the mysterious creaking of a strange place, Abby couldn't sleep. Plus she didn't much like sleeping on the floor. The bed was due tomorrow along with the rest of her furniture. So for now, Abby curled up in a sleeping bag with brand new pillows that she bought earlier that day.

The apartment was dark, save for the blue glow of her phone screen. She checked her Facebook page, then took a peek at Brian's. No word from him there in over two weeks, not since posting a photo of himself sailing with a group of his buddies, the caption reading: "Just another Sunday. #sailing #thuglife." He wasn't one to visit Facebook often, so there was really no telling what he'd been up to, or what (or whom) had been keeping him so preoccupied lately.

She looked through her own photos of Brian, enlarging her favorites. Last Halloween, they'd dressed as Black Widow and the Hulk, Abby's body squeezed into a tight spandex body suit, his body shirtless and painted green. They'd gotten tipsy at a party and ended up making out for a good part of the night through different parts of the house, leaving early, then making love when they got back home. It took two weeks to get the green completely out of her fingernails.

There they were at Abby's college graduation, the day Brian met her folks for the first time. He'd made such a good impression on them. So poised, so charming. "He's just so handsome," her mother couldn't stop saying in clear disbelief. Indeed, he'd taken much of the attention off of Abby, which was fine with her. Yes, she'd graduated a hair shy of summa cum laude, but for her folks, Brian had been proof enough of her success on that day. And to reward him, she'd surprised him with a grateful blowjob later that night. He'd earned it.

Abby slipped out of the sleeping bag, suddenly even warmer. She thought about that road trip to DisneyWorld she took with Brian, and the air conditioner going out on the day of that storm. It had been so hot and so humid, with ominous clouds gathering all morning. When the rain finally broke, it had been such a relief that the Abby and Brian pulled over at a rest stop, got out the car and just stood outside, the hot shower soaking through their clothes. They'd pulled over just in time, as the shower soon turned into blinding downpour, forcing them to wait out the storm in Brian's car.

Abby thought about how sticky she'd felt that day, and how the rain had left her shirt clinging to her body. How neither hers nor Brian's clothes had done much to cover what was underneath. She remembered Brian's chest heaving with playful panic, reacting to the rain like kids do, with his arms opened wide and welcoming, ignoring any potential danger.

Without thinking about it, Abby began gently grazing her bare skin with her fingertips, teasing herself, giving herself the chills. Her thighs rubbed together, and she could feel how wet she'd already become. So she pulled off her panties, and tossed them aside. She reached behind her head and grabbed one of her brand new pillows, and tucked it tightly between her naked legs. It was cool against her skin and gave her welcomed relief from the heat. As she summoned memories from that day with Brian, the good parts came back to her in flashes: Brian kissing her with the same eagerness with which he'd taken in the storm, as though he were tasting both the rain and her lips for the very first time; Brian peeling her blouse off like wet paper, greedily sucking on her breasts while she clutched his back flexing underneath her touch...

The pillow smothered her pussy, parting her lips and exposing her peeking clit. Abby's moans echoed through her sparse apartment, as she recalled how hungry Brian had been in the car, with all of Heaven pouring over them. How much he'd wanted her and hadn't cared how much it showed. She took her hand and pushed against her bedroom wall, writhing around, repeating "yes" just as she had that day, squeezing her legs tighter with every plea.

"Yes... Yes... God yes..."

She rolled over onto her stomach and rode the pillow, just as she'd ridden Brian that day, her hands pawing at his chest and his arms, sculpted by years of baseball. His grip had been tight around her waist, in control, directing her as she rocked back and forth over his dick.

"Yes...

He'd always been good at that. Directing her. He knew what he wanted, in bed and in life.

"O-god... O-god..."

And he was never shy about letting Abby know what he wanted. "I've got some thoughts about that," he was fond of saying. And when it came to Abby, he'd had "some thoughts" about so many things - from her shopping habits, to how she held a fork, to the way she said "nuclear." He often had "some thoughts" about her wardrobe. Gosh, how many outfits had she gotten rid of in their first year together? ("You have to take my word for it," he'd say. "I see you more than you see you."). In fact, he had not been a fan of the outfit she'd worn on the day of the storm. And she thought about how quickly, how carelessly he had ripped it off her once it'd been soaked through.

Then there'd been the blow up when they finally got to DisneyWorld, while waiting in line for Big Thunder Mountain. What had started as just "some thoughts" about which ride to get on next, had ended with a comment so terrible that it stained the rest of the trip, and, to some degree, the rest of their relationship. It'd been a moment made worse by the sea of strangers that had made it impossible for either to escape.

"Dangit," Abby said with a sigh, the energy dissipating from her body. And with that, she gave her hips a rest, unable to recover the good parts - the hunger, Brian's or her own. She tossed the not-so-brand-new pillow across the room and climbed back into the sleeping bag, now more restless than ever.

3.

The next morning, Abby headed out to Starbucks, hoping to grab something before the movers arrived. After ordering her coffee, she stepped out of line and pulled out her phone. She'd gotten a text from Brooklynn about a party in Venice that night. They texted back and forth, Abby making her friend work for this invitation by deflecting concerns over wardrobe and distance.

ABBY: Here is Venice anyway?

BROOKLYNN:??

ABBY: *where

BROOKLYNN: Ohh. lol

ABBY: lol

"WILL!" the barista called out. "Medium iced vanilla latte to go for WILL!"

"Excuse me," a man's voice said from behind Abby.

"Hm?" Abby said in the middle of typing a message.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated, this time with a slight laugh.

Abby turned to see a Black man looking back at her. He had a clean look and a beautiful smile."I think I may need that," he said.

"I'm sorry?" Abby asked.

The stranger looked down, and Abby followed his eyes to find that the two of them were holding hands.

"Omigosh!" she said, jumping back and snatching her hand away. "I... Omigosh..." She only wished her hand was large enough to cover her entire face.

"WILL!" the barista repeated. "Medium iced vanilla latte to-go for WILL!" He plopped a cup down with Will's name scrawled on the side.

Abby was struck speechless as this Will person graciously walked past her and retrieved his drink from the counter. He and the barista - another Black guy - nodded to each other in recognition.

"Alright then," Will said to him.

"Alright then," the barista said back.

Will shot Abby one more glance as he backed out of the front door. Her embarrassment radiated off of her.

Her heart beat loud like a car alarm going off in her ears. She looked around the room. Everyone was so focused on their own phones, or their Kindles or iPads. Does anybody else hear that! she wanted to yell out.

"ABBY!"

She jumped at the sound of her name.

The barista gingerly placed a cup on the counter. "Large black coffee for ABBY!"

4.

Abby returned home to find a huge truck parked in front of her place, with the words "GoWest Moving Co." painted on the side. A bald guy with a belly slid out of the truck cabin and headed toward Abby's front door, clipboard in hand.

"Hey!" Abby yelled from her car. "I'm over here!" She parked and ran up to meet him. "Hey, you're looking for me."

The bald guy checked his clipboard. "I'm looking for... A. Boyd."

"I'm a Boyd," Abby said, laughing. The mover just looked at her and chewed on his toothpick. Abby cleared her throat. "Sorry. I'm Abby Boyd."

The bald guy checked his clipboard again. "And is your address...6-1-2...?"

"Yes, that's my address," Abby said. "I'm Abby Boyd, this is my place, that's my stuff on the truck. Like I said, you are looking for me." Her charm was cracking in the heat. What was she thinking getting hot coffee?

"Sign here, Mrs. Boyd," he said, handing over the clipboard.

"'Miss' actually," she said. "Or 'Ms.' Or you can just call me 'Abby.'"

"I anxiously await the opportunity," the bald guy said dryly. Then louder, over Abby's shoulder. "Alright, let's do this!"

The door to the truck trailer rolled open and three men tumbled out, each of them wearing gloves and weight belts, and t-shirts with the company logo printed across the chest.

5.

Because she'd been living at her parents' house, Abby needed all new furniture when she moved to L.A. So the movers had the gallant tasks of both hauling and assembling Abby's new life. For her part, Abby did her best to stay out of the way, parking herself in the kitchen.

She was also stuck on her encounter at the coffee shop. Why had it shaken her so much? It wasn't as though he'd grabbed her butt. Just her hand, which was far more... well... just far more.

What had he said? "Excuse me. I think I may need that." What did he mean by that? Had it been her who...?

"Excuse me..." a voice said.

Abby jumped. "My gosh!" she said, clutching her chest, choking on her last thought. She looked up to find one of the movers standing in the kitchen doorway.

"My bad," he said. "Thought you heard me coming."

"No, it's... It's OK," Abby said, catching her breath. "I'm sorry, I..."

He waved her off. "No need to be sorry. I've been known to get lost in a daydream myself." He was good-looking, with high-cheekbones and a nice build. You could tell he worked out. Schlepping boxes and building furniture for the last few hours had left him soaking through his GoWest t-shirt.

"I was wondering," he continued. "I hate to be a bother. But could I possibly trouble you for a glass of water?"

"Oh. Yes!" Abby said. "No trouble at all... um... I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

He smiled. "You can call me Calvin," he said.

"Calvin," Abby said, almost to herself. "Shoot," she said, looking at the mason jar she'd been using as a drinking glass for the last few days. She realized that all her dishes were still packed.

"Hey, I don't mind," Calvin said. "My people from the South. I've had plenty-a drinks out of a glass jar." His skin was sandy brown. His voice was sweet like cigar smoke. "Taste better that way, you ask me."

Abby filled the jar with water and handed it over to Calvin, who tipped it to Abby in thanks. He took the water down slow, savoring it, tilting his head back, each gulp throbbing in his throat. A thin wet trail spilled from the corners of his mouth, ran along the muscles in his neck and down his shirt. He was too busy quenching his thirst - too in the moment - to be bothered. When he was done, he let out a satisfied gasp.

"That sure was refreshing," he said, using his shirt collar to wipe his mouth clean.

You're telling me, Abby thought.

Calvin nodded to a large box labelled "Chef Abby."

"You a cook?" he asked Abby.

"Me? No," Abby said. "I mean, I like to cook, I don't know how good I am at it. I guess it depends who you ask. Whom! On whom you ask." She felt herself getting flushed. "H-h-how about yourself? Do you like to cook?"

Calvin shrugged, "I guess it depends on whom I'm cooking for."

"Yeah," Abby said.

"Yeah," Calvin said.

((Don't forget to breathe, Abby said to herself.))

"Ey man!" another mover called out from somewhere else in the apartment. "Where you at?"

Calvin placed the empty jar on the counter. "I guess I better get back to work. Thank you for the water..."

"Abby!" she said before he could ask. Then calmer. "Abby."

"Right," he said. "Abby. It was nice to actually meet you." Then he left her to rejoin the others.

Once he was gone, Abby walked over to the counter and picked up the mason jar. She held it in her hand, examining it, holding it up to the sunlight. Calvin had left behind a large sticky lip print on the rim. Abby took two fingers and rubbed them along the jar's round open mouth. Slowly at first. Then faster.

6.

Abby sat back on her new couch, enjoying a quiet night at home - just her, a glass of wine, and Alex Trebek.

"What is Myanmar?" she said to the TV.

Her phone rang. She checked the caller ID and took a sip of wine.

"Hi, Mom," she answered. "If you thought I'd be out, why did you call?"

She got off the couch and strolled around her apartment. She slid across the floor in her socks. The whole place smelled like wood and the spectre of plastic bags.

"What is 'Homicide?'" she said. "Not you, Mom. That would be matricide... Kidding!"

In the kitchen, she was pouring herself a refill on her wine ("I know murder isn't funny, Mom...") when she heard a noise coming from outside. She shot a look at the back door.

"Wait, Mom," she said. "Hold on a sec."

Abby heard her mother's voice as she put the phone down and walked away. She stopped at the door and listened. She tapped the knob before turning it, as though there were a fire on the other side.

The back door led to a common space, with a table and chairs, a gas grill, and a swimming pool. As Abby stepped outside and away from her doorway, she was struck by the quiet of the evening, as sudden and stark as the sound that had brought her out there. Seeing nothing, Abby went back inside. Her mother was still talking when she picked the phone back up.

"Of course I'm listening..." Abby said. "I was just-"

There was another, louder sound from outside. Only this time, it sounded more like... a splash?

Abby grabbed a large knife and ran back outside, so fast that she didn't even put her phone down this time. That's when she spotted a figure in the pool - a man - gliding through the water. When he reached the ledge, he lifted himself out with a one swift, strong move. He wasn't wearing his GoWest t-shirt this time, or anything else for that matter, and water drizzled down his bare chest and arms, down his stomach and dripping off of and his...

"Let me call you back, Mom," Abby said, hanging up the phone mid-sentence.

7.

Underwater, Abby could clearly hear her heartbeat. The thumping engulfed her, ran through her hair, swaddled her arms, and crept into spaces otherwise hidden. The water protected her and fondled her all at once. When she emerged, Calvin was sitting on the ledge of the pool, his feet in the water, watching her with a soft grin on his face.

She drifted toward him and docked between his legs. He was still erect, so when lifted herself up nestling his penis between her breasts. She teased the head first, her tongue dancing across the tip. Then she opened her mouth wide and swallowed as much of the whole thing as possible. It was so long. She moaned, feeling him against the roof her mouth, his long cock traveling to the back of her throat, then retreating as she lifted her head back up to catch her breath. Repeat...

8.

Abby crawled onto her bed, soaking her sheets with pool water. She sat up, watching Calvin, who'd followed her inside. He was so sure with his movements, his walk so deliberate, and he never took his eyes off of hers. He didn't just want to fuck. He wanted to fuck her.

He dropped to the floor and gently opened Abby's legs. He held onto her thighs and Abby could feel his tongue - as long and strong as the rest of him - spreading apart the lips of her vagina. Abby covered her eyes, and she could feel her face growing hot in her hands. She wasn't used to men going down on her. It made her feel so... so exposed. And anyway, it'd never worked for her before. Not with Brian. But Calvin - this strange man she met only that day - he worked her pussy with the familiarity of a daily commute: he understood where to go and how long it should take to get there.

Abby grabbed fistfuls of Calvin 's hair, pulling his face deeper into her cunt. His tongue obliged, diving in all directions, running clockwise from her clit to her taint, then back again, roaming down to her asshole while Abby held her breath. She didn't know what to make of it at first and she pulled back (What the heck? Wrong hole!). But he held on, lifted her legs back, and ensured her that he knew very well what he was doing. And when she relaxed, it felt so good, like a current running from his mouth though her lower body.

She took her fingers and circled her clit. She was so wet by then that her fingers easily slid inside of her. Her moaning filled the apartment as she quickly fucked herself to climax, Calvin 's tongue tightly tucked inside of her ass.

She was still licking her lips when Calvin climbed on top of her. She'd cum hard, and was so wet that Calvin 's cock entered without trouble. Abby was filled in an instant. His hips rose and dropped with force and finesse. He took his goddamn time.

"H-h-h-O-god..." Abby whispered. Then louder, "O-god!"

Abby kept her eyes closed as Calvin kissed her face, softly - her cheeks, her forehead, her chin. All while She spread her arms out, going limp while Calvin moved her whole body with the stroke of his dick. She could feel his breath on her face, his low moaning. She wanted so badly to cum for him - harder than the first time - to feel herself tighten around his cock, to show him how good he felt inside of her.

"Abby," Calvin said.

She almost lost it at the sudden sound of his voice.

This forced her to open her eyes. "What?"

"You can't cum yet," he said, matter-of-factly.

Abby's eyes followed the trickle of sweat running down Calvin's torso. He continued to ease himself in and out of her. Her body tensed and her legs moved to shut, but Calvin kept them apart.