This is probably really inappropriate. Ah well.
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He walked into the garage like he belonged there, but he closed the door silently behind him like he didn't.
"FUCK," he hissed, rubbing his shin where it had just collided with a misplaced ladder on its edge. He held his breath. No one was home, but he still didn't want to make too much noise. He looked around the small garage, happy to see that everything was where he left it. The only change was the fine layer of dust over his various tools and projects.
He crouched next to the tool bench, surprised to see small fingerprints in the dust on his boxy silver safe. He was even more surprised when he touched the black dial and the small door simply swung open. His worst fears became a reality as the open door presented a very empty safe.
"Damn it, Courtney," he muttered under his breath. He stood up and cursed some more, flipping out his phone from his pocket.
The person he was calling picked up immediately. "Well?!" came the voice from the other line.
"It's gone. She took it," he whispered, scowling.
The line was silent for a moment. "What are we gonna do, Duncan? The landlord expects to be paid yesterday and that weed was our only ticket!"
"You think I don't know that? Maybe if you hadn't gone shopping the other week…Like you really need more blue lipstick. Why haven't you outgrown that phase yet?" he demanded.
"I'm only 25!" the voice protested.
Duncan's eyes widened. How did I end up dating a 25 year old again? He scratched at his furry scruff he'd haphazardly tried to shave that morning. He'd gotten distracted by the discovery of another grey hair.
"Listen Sunshine, we'll be okay," he reassured her.
"I'm gonna go to LeShawna's right now. She might have an extra shift I can pick up," she replied hopefully.
"Oh that's rich. A stripper's gonna make a lot of money on a Tuesday afternoon!" he goaded.
"At least I have a job," she retorted.
"I have a job!" he protested, pausing before adding, "sorta!"
"Whatever, Duncan. I'll see you back at the apartment," she said coldly, hanging up on her end. Duncan sighed. He wasn't exactly looking forward to scaling the side of his crusty apartment building to break into his own roach-infested apartment, all to avoid his landlord whom he owed a generous amount of money. But at least he had his very angry 25 year old stripper girlfriend to come home to! Duncan dropped his face into his palms.How had his life gone so wrong?
He had two kids, barely school age, who he hadn't seen in 10 months. He'd missed his boy's birthday party. He had sent a card in the mail with stolen cash, promising to clean up his act, but as he was writing it even he knew it was a lie.
When Courtney had found out about his affair with Gwen, well, that was the last straw. And with her being a lawyer, she had divorce papers in his face the very next day. The wife, the kids—they were gone in an instant. He was out on his own again. Well, he wasn't completely alone; he had Gwen. But she was young and bony and crap at cooking and crap at sex and full of idealistic goals she would never fulfill with a deadbeat like himself on her hand. He liked smoking pot with her and watching cartoons with her and staring at her perky boobs, but it couldn't quite compare with the feeling of tucking in your children and kissing your partner goodnight.
He strolled thoughtfully around the quiet garage, pausing to touch certain things from his past: his daughter's pom-pom bike handles he'd helped glue on, his son's large bucket of colorful chalk he used to "graffiti" with on the driveway, and the empty ceramic pot he and Courtney had kept trying to grow a lemon tree in, even though their climate was too cold to keep such a thing alive. He looked away sadly; he remembered they had been planning on trying again last summer, but he never followed through. He'd been too busy with his newest failing business to be bothered with anything relating to the family.
He made his way around the snug blue minivan parked in the middle of the garage. There was a tennis ball hanging from the ceiling of the room to mark where the driver should park; he batted it softly. At the back of the van there used to be a row of tiny "family" bumper stickers, fairy tale themed, on the back windshield. There was still a fairy for his daughter, a goblin for his son, and a princess for Courtney, but where his tiny Prince Charming once sat there was merely a few fragments of sticker that hadn't come off, despite the scraping efforts of his wife.
Sorry. Ex-wife.
It was an incomplete set. The more he stared at it, the worse he felt. He knew why Courtney had been so uptight—it was because he had been too lax. She complimented his lack of responsibility with an abundance of her own. The weight of it all had just been too much for her, for both of them, really. It was all his fault his tiny sticker had been ripped to pieces. He ran his thumb across the small princess sticker. Oh, Princess…
Why couldn't he have just grown up?
His thoughts were interrupted by a clatter at the screen door. Courtney staggered in, clutching the frame for balance. She giggled to herself quietly, straightening to look up, right into the gaze of her ex-husband. He stared back at her, wide eyed, panicked, and waiting to be screamed at—only it never came.
Her gaze leveled on him, her mouth curling into a slight grin. "I see you've violated your restraining order," she noted nonchalantly. She continued on her path, shuffling loudly in a pair of dirty, worn out slippers that didn't match her business blazer and skirt at all, heading for the tool bench. It was then he noticed what she was carrying: a large glass jar, half-way filled with something green.
Duncan's mouth popped open, completely in shock.
"Pot?! My pot?!" he asked incredulously. "Why do you have my pot?!"
Courtney rolled her eyes. "What does one normally do with pot?" she asked.
Duncan was beyond baffled. Sure, he used to try to get her to smoke with him, but she always refused. "I—um—ah—what?! Courtney?! Are you high?!" Duncan asked, suddenly furious.
Courtney giggled sleepily, returning the jar to the small safe, closing the door and spinning the lock. "Nah," she said.
"I—I think you are, Princess!" he sputtered angrily. "You dumped me because I did this kind of shit, and yet here you are doing the same stuff!"
Courtney crossed her arms over her chest. Duncan noted her cleavage line appraisingly. "No, I didn't cheat on my wife with a dirty goth stripper," she said, frowning, "Don't get so red in the face, Dunky-Poo."
"Well at least she believes in me!" he shouted back.
"Believes in what?" Courtney sneered, "All your attempts to start a business failed, Duncan. You spent all our savings! All my money! Was I supposed to let you put us on the streets? We hada family to look after!"
"It took me years to get that business running, Courtney! I did it for the family!" he yelled, walking closer to her. Her hazel eyes were bloodshot, but they were still as beautiful as he remembered.
"No!" she shouted, balling up her fists, "You did it for yourself!"
"How can you say that?" he cried, mashing the heels of his palm into his closed eyes. "You're the most important people in the world to me!"
Courtney laughed haughtily. "We were! Until you stuck your cock in that stripper right?"
Duncan sighed angrily, frustrated that she was right. "Look, just," he walked over to the bench with the safe, "give me my fucking weed!"
"Why?" she demanded.
"I…have glaucoma!" he said, shrugging.
"You do not!" she yelled.
"Courtney come on!" he shouted back.
"Get out of here, you pathetic oaf!" she yelled. Courtney swayed on her feet a bit, and she had to grab the bench for balance. Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment. She's so high.
"Courtney!" he cried, "I'm broke!"
Courtney paused to look him over, noting his dirty plaid shirt and torn sneakers. She rolled her eyes and tisked, "That's pretty obvious, Duncan. You look like a pig."
"Well that's why I need the weed. I gotta pay my bills," Duncan admitted, sighing. "So are you gonna help me or not?"
"You'll never amount to anything this way," she said in a reprimanding voice.
"Yeah yeah, Drama Queen," he replied, rolling his eyes.
Courtney considered the situation for a moment. "I'll give you the money," she said.
"What?!" he asked, surprised, "Why?"
"Because," she started, twisting her hands together nervously, "I mean… I still care about you, Duncan. I don't want you to starve or anything."
His eyebrows shot up. That was unexpected.
"You…you care about me? Then why did you kick me out?" he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
She huffed angrily. "Because you hurt me, you moron! And you were a bad role model for our children!"
He looked away, ashamed. "Yeah…I made some bad choices."
She scoffed. "SOME?!"
He scowled. "Okay, okay. I made a lot of mistakes."
"So now what?" she asked.
Duncan drummed his fingers against the wooden tool bench, deep in thought. Ha. "Now what" indeed, Courtney. He looked around the garage, his eyes resting on the minivan, reminding him of the tiny row of fairy tale stickers. That's what.
He sauntered up to his ex-wife until the space between them became mere inches.
"Uh, personal space, Duncan," she said disdainfully, nudging him away with the tips of her fingers.
He grabbed her hand to his chest, flashed her his most mischievous smile, and asked hopefully, "You wanna make out?"
Courtney stared coldly at him for a long moment, and his heart began to speed up. Okay, maybe not the best approach, Duncan.
"Oh, fuck it," she snapped.
She grabbed his face and pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him hard. His heart soared, thinking he would never feel the warmth of her skin again, and he kissed her back fervently, miserably. Her soft lips molded to his as her tongue flickered out for a second to lash his mouth. He took her hips and yanked her body towards his. Her curves were still prominent and vivacious; simply tracing her figure over her suit coat was enough to give him a hard on.
It took all he had, but he pulled away. "Courtney, just exactly how high are you?" he asked. He had to know.
"Ooooo!" she giggled, "Look who's responsible now!"
"I am," he said without a trace of sarcasm. "I can be. I…I will be."
"What?" she asked, thrown off guard.
He picked up her hands from her sides and held them to his chest. "Courtney, you may have been a stuck up pain in the ass, but I was a loser, stoner, scum bag. If you've become a little like me, maybe I can be a little like you."
"Oh, Duncan," she breathed, and he pulled her to him for another kiss. There was no more hesitation. Without breaking his mouth from hers, he loudly shoved a pile of tools from the table. They clattered to the floor as he lifted her onto the cleared off space. Courtney spread her thighs apart as far as she could in her tailored suit skirt, and Duncan inched her forward until their bodies were touching again. But it wasn't close enough. He pushed her skirt up her legs, pausing to admire her stockings.
"Thigh highs, huh?" he asked with a smirk.
"I saw you searched for thigh highs and garter belts in your porn history," she giggled. Duncan oogled her toned legs for a moment. Even after two kids, and becoming a working, single mother, Courtney somehow managed to work out every week. He bent down to trail light kisses up her thighs, pushing her skirt up higher until it was at her waist and her black panties were on full display. Courtney's breaths became ragged. She knotted her fingers into his hair as he continued kissing her. He moved the lacy material to the side with one finger, using another to slowly trace her wet slit. Courtney moaned softly.
"Damn, Princess, you're like a waterfall down here," he grinned, still teasing her opening with his fingers. Courtney didn't respond, lost in the sensation.
"It's been…just…SO LONG since I did this," she said finally, gulping nervously.
He stood up, not moving his hand from where it was, and kissed her lips again. She latched onto his shoulder with one hand, moving the other to behind his neck. Their lips mashed together and their tongues met in the middle, messily and excitedly. At that moment, Courtney inhaled sharply as Duncan pushed his finger inside her.
"Oh, god, Duncan," she murmured.
"Shhh baby," he shushed her, pumping his finger in and out of her opening. He used his thumb to gently roll around her clit, earning another heady moan from Courtney. Their mouths met again, and Courtney was scrambling to undo her blazer buttons. She ripped the jacket away from her arms, working to pull off her blouse next. Her fingers were shaking as she fumbled with the pearly buttons.
"Allow me, Princess," Duncan said, taking his hand away from her to work on pulling the buttons apart. Courtney kissed along his jaw, down to his neck where she paused to suck gently. Duncan closed his eyes, enthralled with pleasure. Of course she would remember what he liked—they were married after all. He pulled her open shirt down her arms, leaving only her bra. She quickly unhooked the front, baring herself fully for him. Duncan's eyes widened and his jaw slackened. Her full, soft breasts were a sight sorely missed. He went to kiss her again, skimming his hands over her chest. Oh god, the twins had been missed. He kissed his way down her neck and over her collar bone, down to her nipples, one of which he captured in his mouth. He rolled his tongue around it carefully, pausing when he felt her shudder.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," she breathed, "It just feels…amazing."
"I want to do something for you", he whispered, sliding his hand up her thigh and over her panties. Damn panties are in the way. But the way Courtney was squirming only made him more motivated to get them off. He tore the thin black statin fabric down her legs, not caring about the angry red line they must have left across her bum. He pulled her thighs toward him on the table, no doubt her backside was also full of splinters now, and slung her knees over his shoulders. He traced her opening teasingly before pushing his index finger into her; her hands flew to her own hair, needing something to grasp onto, and another moan escaped her lips. He slowly kissed his way down her soft stomach, paying extra attention to the sensitive spot where her thighs met her torso. Courtney tugged his hair in her knotted grasp, whimpering achingly. Still fucking her with his finger, he continued his kisses to the beginning of her slit. His tongue traced along the opening slowly, coming back to flick at her clit. Courtney cursed breathlessly.
He kept pumping his finger in and out of her, licking and nipping along her slit. Courtney's breathing had become higher and higher pitched moans.
"GOD!" she shrieked, "OH GOD DUNCAN, DON'T STOP!" And suddenly her vise grip in his hair relaxed as her body was seized with a shuddering orgasm.
Duncan grinned widely and looked up at her content expression and messy hair. She hummed a happy sigh and laid back on the bench, exhausted. He hopped up next to her, and the bench wobbled hazardously beneath them. Courtney didn't seem to care.
"Wow…" she breathed, "That was awesome."
"So can I have that money now?" Duncan asked.
Courtney's face fell. "Duncan!"
Duncan chuckled and said, "Only kidding, Princess." He pulled her to hug him and pecked her on the lips. "I never loved you for your money, anyway."
"I know," she said softly, kissing him again. "But…what does this mean? What are we gonna do?"
Duncan held up his hand to silence her. "Princess, you go smoke another bowl and chill. I'll take care everything."
She gave him a skeptical look and quietly laid back down. "We're gonna be the crazy, on-and-off couple for the rest of our lives, aren't we?" she asked.
"Probably," he said, smiling.
"Well then, let's make the most of the time we have together until we're 'off' again," she said. Her mouth curled into a mischievous grin as she reached for his belt buckle.
He leaned down to kiss her again and smirked. "Princess," he said, brushing her bangs from her eyes, "I wouldn't have it any other way."