"Paul?" Steph tip-toed towards his bedroom in nothing but a frilly, red thong, "are you in here? Paul?" The room smelled like someone had freshly showered, but the bathroom door was open and the light was off. "Oh," she made her way to his closet and opened the second drawer, her face burning red as she counted out two condoms and tore them from the rest of the pack. She then quickly grabbed a t-shirt and placed the condoms in its pocket. As she started back down the hallway, she could hear music coming from the kitchen before realizing it was outside in the garage.
"All I'm going to say is that the damn garage door better be fucking closed," she mumbled under her breath to give herself the courage to open the door, "fuck it, here goes nothing," as she pushed it open the music dramatically dropped to a more tolerable level, that's when the smell hit her, "what the hell Paul? Do you have a card or something or are you always just doing this illegally?"
The smoke slowly escaped his mouth as he laughed,"yes, I do have a card because I have chronic back pain, remember?" He once again reached down, lowered the music volume and leaned back in the front seat of his truck, "I'm sorry if it bothers you but I'm not putting it out, I'm only a quarter of the way through it and I don't re-light," he ashed the joint onto the floor of the garage and took another puff, "so do you have anything on under my shirt?"
"Oh?" She crossed her arms uncomfortably,
"You know you could come over and sit down with me," he continued to blow smoke, "where'd you get those underwear?" He tugged at the front of his pants as she came around to the passenger's side of the truck, "my mom loves to design and make all this fancy lingerie and honestly as a man, I'd rather just see someone naked. Why take your clothes off and put some see-through clothes on just to take them off again?"
"Good thing I only have this pretty red thong and your t-shirt on," she climbed up into the seat, "its weird to say I've never bought cute lingerie for myself, this is just something your mother gave to me," she playfully swatted his hand away from her legs, "also most of the cute stuff your mom gave me is red...like everything is red."
"Red like my truck?" A smile sat plastered on his face as she stared down the hood, wide-eyed, "do you see why I hate my mom sometimes?" He flicked ash out the window again, "my mother just loves to be creepy. This is my favorite color so of course I would want everything in my life to be this color," his eyes wandered from her pouty lips down to the small red, lace triangle between her legs barely visible beneath his T-shirt, "have you ever smoked before?"
"No," she paused, squirming as he reached over and squeezed her thigh, "to be honest, drugs and alcohol were both pretty much frowned upon in my household growing up," she let out a tiny gasp as his fingers brushed against the lace fabric.
"Do you want to try it?" He exhaled again and held the joint out to her, "there is absolutely no pressure at all, if you don't want it, just say no," a smile fell upon his lips as she took the joint between her fingers.
"You know what, I don't think I should since I'm still breastfeeding," she let go before him but became suddenly aware of her surroundings, the slow beat of the music through the seat, the strong smell and taste of the smoke, his soft hand sneaking further between her legs.
"You definitely came out here with something on your mind, just seeing a few things in your pocket there," he motioned towards the pocket on her chest, "should we talk about the other day or let that go as we were both just horny and that's the end of it?"
She watched as he took another couple puffs, "if that's all it was, then what is there to talk about?"
"Wow, okay then," he ashed into an empty water bottle and rolled his eyes, "what I meant was that I…" he arrogantly exhaled, following with a slight coughing fit, "you know what, nevermind,"
"I came out here to say that I wanna do it again," she pulled the shirt over her head, her perfect chest bouncing as she threw it towards his head, "I want you to fuck me right here, right now, in your beloved red truck,"
"You don't have to ask you know, you could just," he unzipped his jeans, revealing the bulge in his boxers, "I've been hard ever since you walked out here in that underwear," he quickly put the joint in the empty bottle and slid the seat as far back as he could.
In one swift motion, she pulled a condom from the pocket of the shirt she had thrown at him and rolled it on while climbing over the center console. He sucked on her neck while she slipped down and began a slow rhythm, "fuck, I love you,"
Those words stung, being told she was loved during sex always made her feel uncomfortable. Was she loved only because she was putting out? What if he really meant it? Should she say it back? The awkwardness of the situation took over whatever pleasure she was feeling.
"What's wrong?" He took her chin between his thumb and index finger, "do you not want to anymore?"
"Why did you say that? Why did you say you loved me?"
"I…I don't know, it just came out," they stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence, "we shouldn't have done this, today or the other day, I'm sorry."
"But I wanted to," her chin fell to her chest, "do you mean it or did you just say it because I felt good?"
Without hesitation, his hands were repositioning himself between her legs, "I meant it,"
"I love you too," she managed to stutter out, "I can't believe this is happening,"
"I know, me neither," he pulled her into his arms while sharing a deep, passionate kiss, "I love you Stephanie,"
