Chapter Six: Thirty Weeks
It seemed counterintuitive that, the further along a woman was in her pregnancy, the shorter her doctor's appointments would be, but that was indeed the case. In her 30th week and well into her third and final trimester, Beth had to see Dr. Smythe more often, but the check-ups were more in and out than they were invasive. Because of how advanced she was and because of her good health and the baby's, her OB-GYN was electing not to perform any more internal exams, shortening the visits even more and allowing for Beth to remain in her regular clothing.
Her appointment that week felt more like a check-in than a check-up. After the usual weight, blood pressure, baby's heartbeat, and fundal height measurement, Dr. Smythe asked her many of the same questions as she had two weeks earlier. She asked about any symptoms or signs of early labor, and she asked about the baby's movements. She checked the baby's positioning, and she told them that it was time to start thinking about their birthing plan. Soon, Dr. Smythe warned, she would want a complete report. But that was it.
Rio was on his phone, texting no doubt with work now that the appointment was actively over, and Dr. Smythe made notes on Beth's chart, while Beth sat up and straightened her clothes. For the first time in her pregnancy, she was starting to feel it. Beth wasn't exactly uncomfortable in her own skin. In fact, she felt downright resplendent when naked. After a bout of embarrassment, Rio helped her embrace her nudity, and the two of them, when alone in the loft, spent much of their time without clothes.
If Beth wore anything these days, it was a pair of panties and a robe. That's it. Even when Marcus was there, she mainly stayed in pajamas of one form or another. It was only when they had to leave home - for work, for doctor's visits, for errands that they couldn't replace with deliveries - that she had to squeeze herself into her once baggy but now cumbersome sweaters, leggings with waistbands that could no longer be rolled down to accommodate her belly and now pinched into her skin, and outerwear that was necessary in the Michigan December air but actually made Beth feel stuffy and overheated. And that wasn't even touching how miserable her bras made her feel.
She tried to hide it - how awkward and wearisome it was to leave the cocoon of the loft these days. Complaining about anything made her feel ungrateful. After all, Beth couldn't have asked for a better, easier pregnancy. Besides when she was forced to wear clothes, she felt fantastic. And then she thought about what she could be going through - not only the regular worries of carrying another life inside of you and becoming a mom but doing those things at her age, and she felt doubly unappreciative of her luck, of Rio, of Marcus, and of Annie and Ruby now that they knew.
But, apparently, her discomfort was more obvious than she thought. "So, I noticed you're still wearing your normal clothes," Dr. Smythe pulled Beth from her musings.
Looking up from where she had been attempting to adjust her pants into the most pleasant position possible while still actually wearing them, Beth met her physician's gaze. Her eyes then quickly darted over to Rio who was pretending like he wasn't paying attention to every word that was being said, but his thumbs had stopped typing, and his phone had gone dark. "Well, not all of them," Beth tried to joke, making light of the question. "I haven't seen my jeans or some of my more form fitting dresses in months."
"What I mean," Dr. Smythe spoke gently, folding her arms over her chest and hugging Beth's chart against her, "is that you haven't started wearing maternity clothes yet."
"I've made it this far already," Beth reasoned. "It seems like a waste to start now."
"There's no indication that you'll deliver early. Do you really want to spend the last ten weeks - or more… should you go past your due date - of your pregnancy self-conscious and uneasy?"
Defending herself, Beth stated, "I don't always feel that way. When I'm at home, I'm… more relaxed.
Rio snorted. Giving up his ruse, he put his phone away, stood, and crossed over to Beth. "What she means is that, when it's just the two of us, it's like we're on a nude beach but without the sand or water."
"And, naturally, you feel the need to strip down, too," Dr. Smythe teased him.
"I gotta support my girl. Solidarity… and all that shit, right?"
Turning serious once more, the OB-GYN stared at Beth, measuring her. "And this has nothing to do with your embarrassment about being pregnant at your age?"
"I'm not embarrassed by our baby," Beth snapped, glaring at her physician.
"Then why all of those questions about the ages of my other patients," Dr. Smythe wanted to know.
"Because it's Kensley, my daughter, who is embarrassed by my pregnancy, not me, and I wanted to have something that I could counter her arguments with - something tangible, factual, and not just anecdotal or emotional."
Dr. Smythe tilted her head to the side, narrowing her gaze. "Do you feel guilty about your pregnancy and how your daughter is reacting to it?" Without giving Beth a chance to respond, she pressed, "is this - you forcing yourself into clothes that no longer fit your body - punishment?"
"Of course not! I didn't do anything wrong."
"Damn right you didn't," Rio murmured from next to her.
"And you're not worried that, in buying maternity clothes, you'll jinx yourself or your pregnancy," the OB-GYN queried. At Beth's disbelieving look, she explained, "because that's a thing with some women. They're so nervous that something will go wrong that they don't even want to tempt fate by acknowledging their pregnancy in that way."
"I might have been concerned at first," Beth acknowledged. She felt Rio tense beside her, so she rushed to add, "before hearing the baby's heartbeat, and seeing the ultrasound, and just… feeling as settled and grounded in my pregnancy, I was scared… just like I was scared when I was eighteen and pregnant as well. I think it's only natural. But, quite frankly, I've never felt this good, this healthy, this happy in my body and my life before. So, no," Beth finished, returning back to her doctor's original question, "I'm not worried."
"Then buy some damn maternity clothes already," Dr. Smythe playfully ordered.
"Really," Beth dismissed, standing up from the exam table… or, at least, she attempted to stand up, but Rio had to jump forward to help her, placing one of his hands in hers and the other at the small of her back, easing her off of the higher surface. "It seems excessive at this point. Like I said, I've made it this far already without…."
"I know it has been more than twenty years since you were last pregnant, Beth, but let me remind you that your baby will grow the most in the coming weeks. You're going to get bigger," Dr. Smythe told her bluntly. "A lot bigger. Plus, I can already tell that your milk is coming in, so all you're doing now is ruining your non-maternity clothes for when you and your body are ready to return to them."
Shouldering her bag, Beth tried one last argument. "Aren't maternity clothes simply bigger versions of regular clothes? I'll just buy a few items in some bigger sizes to get me through."
"Actually, maternity clothes have come a long way since the last time you were pregnant," the OB-GYN argued. "Plus, many of them are designed to help mothers transition back to their pre-baby bodies after giving birth, and they're particularly great if you plan on nursing."
"I do," Beth confirmed. She'd considered pumping, too, so that Rio and Marcus could also feed the baby, but if she wanted to use the lactational amenorrhea method, it had to be all Beth, all the time.
"Then that's all the more reason for you to do some shopping." The physician started to lead all three of them out of the exam room. "If it's a money issue…"
"It ain't," Rio cut Dr. Smythe off, glowering. But his dark look wasn't for the OB-GYN; it was for Beth who he, apparently, was annoyed with for even allowing someone to think that they… or, more accurately, he… couldn't afford to properly clothe his pregnant wife.
"... or you just don't want to spend that much, there are some great consignment shops around the city that specialize in maternity wear."
"Nah, we don't need no second hand threads. That's disgustin'."
Rolling her eyes at his snobbishness, Beth said, "I would wash the clothes first, Rio."
Dr. Smythe added, "and consignment is synonymous with vintage, which I would think would fit right in with your whole aesthetic."
He scoffed. "Right, right. And I'm supposed to listen to you two about style - a woman who wears pajamas to work and another who would wear nothin' right now if it wouldn't cause traffic accidents everywhere she went?"
As always seemed to be the case, Dr. Smythe walked away from them that afternoon laughing, while Rio and Beth continued on their way out of the office, making their appointment for their 32 week visit before leaving.
!
"Where's the baby going to sleep?"
The three of them were sitting at the dining room table but all occupied separately when Marcus' question pulled them back together under a common purpose. Glancing over from where she was working on a new menu - cookbooks spread out around her, Beth noticed that Marcus' bowl was empty, her stepson having finished his breakfast of steel cut oats made with coconut milk and topped with cinnamon, nutmeg, bananas, coconut chips, dried cranberries, chia seeds, and a dash of maple syrup. Belly now full, Marcus must have been awake enough to return to his normal level of awareness and need to talk, and it was obvious that his query was something that had been weighing on his mind.
Exchanging a glance with Rio who was reading on his iPad, the two of them put away their tasks to focus on their eight year old. Beth removed her reading glasses, folding them up and setting them aside, and Rio even helped Beth mark all of her pages, though he smirked the entire time. He liked to tease her about 'kickin' it old school' with her preference for cookbooks to cooking blogs, but, really, he had no room to comment, because he never took Marcus to the library or the bookstore without returning with a new book of recipes for Beth. Or two. Once they were ready for the conversation at hand, however, Rio also turned curious eyes upon Beth, resting his elbows on the table so as to plop his chin into his palms and stare at her expectantly. His attention felt similar to that in Dr. Smythe's office when the OB-GYN had engaged Beth in a conversation about maternity clothes.
"Well, for the first few months, the baby will sleep in a bassinet next to our bed," she gestured between herself and Rio. "They'll need to eat every few hours, and it's safer for them to be near us. They're so little when they're first born that parents need to be extra vigilant until they're old enough to sleep on their own through the night. Even after he or she starts sleeping in their crib, we'll still have them close to us."
"Oh," Marcus seemed to visibly deflate.
"Why," Rio asked, narrowing his gaze upon his son. "What's up, Pop? Why you askin'?"
"Well, I just thought that the baby would need its own room."
"Eventually," Beth allowed.
"So, eventually we'll need to move into a house with a yard and… and doors?!"
Pointing a finger at the eight year old, Rio stated, "he makes a good point."
And he did… except, honestly, the idea of leaving the loft, of needing someplace bigger, had not even occurred to Beth. Sputtering, she argued, "but I like that everything is so open. No matter where you are or where I am in the loft… except the bathroom," Beth acknowledged, "I can see you," she told Marcus. "I can check on you, make sure you're safe."
"That won't always be a good thing, Mami," Rio teased her. Then, as if she needed the reminder or the explanation as to why the lack of privacy would eventually become an issue, he added, "our boy's growin' up."
"Well, the baby isn't," she snapped, not appreciating her husband's comments. He just smirked in response to her flash of temper. "And Marcus has a curtain he can pull over his doorway when he wants."
"You and Daddy don't have a curtain," her stepson pointed out.
"No we don't," Rio emphatically agreed. "We don't have a door neither."
"Will you put a curtain up for the baby when it's old enough to have its own room, or will you let it have a door?"
Confused, Beth sought clarification. "Where are you talking about, Marcus?"
"Daddy's closet," the little boy stated like it was obvious. "It's the only other space with walls… unless you're going to make the baby sleep in the laundry room? But it's already pretty crowded in there. I don't know where you'd put all of the baby's things. Because Abuelita told me that babies have a lot of stuff."
"Most of it isn't necessary," Beth waved off the implication that they wouldn't have room for their growing family. "And we're not turning your father's closet into a nursery! That's just… not even an option!"
The implications alone of putting a baby in a closet… even if it was a spacious and luxurious walk-in… were not great, but more than that, Beth couldn't put her child in that closet. It was her favorite place in the entire loft. Beth loved how organized it was, how neat, how precise, and Rio knew just how much she appreciated the visual representation of those aspects of his character; he knew that his walk-in turned her on, how it made Beth actually prickle with arousal and tingle with need. In fact, the closet was one of their favorite places to have sex, especially when Marcus was with them on the weekends.
Rio would follow Beth inside of the closet when she was putting away laundry or changing for bed. He would come up and wrap himself around her, bury his face in her neck, and slip his hands underneath whatever she was wearing. There was a full length mirror inside of the walk-in, so they wouldn't need to cross the loft and go in the bathroom to check their appearance, but they actually used it more to watch themselves. Rio would position them so that Beth's arms were braced against the wall, and then he would fuck her from behind - one hand cradling the bottom of her baby belly while also massaging her clit with his pinkie, while the other squeezed her breasts until the colostrum started to leak out, and then he would gather the moisture on his fingers and smear it on her painfully erect nipples, her clit, her lips, turning her face until he could lick the milk from and then into her mouth. Between kisses, they would watch their entire performance.
Beth couldn't go into that closet now without wanting Rio inside of her, without needing to cum. It was like he had conditioned her. Or maybe they had conditioned each other. Either way, the idea of eventually putting her child to bed in that space, having him or her play in there, get dressed in there, claim the room as their own, wasn't just wrong; it was impossible.
Rio's snort of laughter brought Beth back to the moment, but she ignored him in favor of focusing on Marcus who, understandably and thankfully, did not comprehend either her adamant refusal or his father's amusement. "I'm sorry," Beth told her stepson, flushing with embarrassment. "I just… we can't put a baby in a closet," she smiled at him, making light of the suggestion and her reaction. "That's silly. Besides, where would your Daddy keep all of those nice clothes that he never wears?"
"Hey, now!," Rio defended, springing up in his chair to hold his hands out in self-defense. "Don't turn this around on me! A man works hard, he deserves to have a nice closet." Unimpressed, Beth pursed her lips and raised a judgemental brow, but that only made Rio snicker even more. "Besides, we're talkin' about the baby's stuff, not mine. Leave my clothes outta it."
"I mean, I guess I could share my room with the baby?" It was apparent based on Marcus' little screwed up face that he really didn't understand how that would be possible, but he was willing to offer anyway.
"Nah, Pop, you don't need to do that. We'll figure somethin' else out for your li'l hermano or hermana."
Rio was right. They would figure something out for the baby's room once he or she was old enough to be a little further away from them. But that wouldn't be for at least six months after Beth gave birth, and she still had more than two months to go in her pregnancy. Besides, did they really need two living spaces or a desk upstairs when Rio's office was just two flights down? Plus, Rio and Marcus were too focused on the physical aspects of their living arrangement. There were other factors to consider as well.
"Moving is about more than just finding a house with a backyard and doors, too," Beth pointed out. "For example, right now, we're only a few minutes away from your Mom's house, your school, and the sports park complex where you play all of your games."
"Yeah, that's true," Marcus conceded.
Rio was still feeling Rhea out on the idea of changing their custody agreement so that Marcus could spend more time with them, but that would be almost impossible if Beth and Rio moved out of his school district. After all, it wasn't like they could ask Rhea to also move in order to accommodate their growing family and Marcus' growing attachment to Beth and his little sibling. Also, Marcus might have only been in the third grade, but he went to a good school and had a whole circle of friends. He was a gregarious little boy, and Beth had no doubt that he would adapt and make new friends wherever he went, but he shouldn't have to do that, not if it wasn't necessary.
"Then there's our work," Beth continued, particularly wanting to remind Rio of this aspect of their lives. "The event center is just downstairs, and your Daddy's other businesses are all within the neighborhood as well. If suddenly we had longer commutes, that would mean less time as a family."
"And that would also be bad for the environment," Marcus said astutely. For Beth, it seemed like a natural progression that the eight year old's interest in space would translate into concern about climate change and global warming, but for Rio? He took it as an attack against his precious Mercedes G-Class, and his son's remark earned Beth an unimpressed glower.
"Me spendin' twenty minutes in the car every day ain't gonna take away from our family or bring on the damn apocalypse," Rio groused. "If you two are so worried about my emissions, then maybe we should live somewhere where I can plant a coupla trees."
Smirking, Beth twisted her neck around so that she could observe her husband, "Oh, so you garden now?"
"Fine," Rio allowed, scowling at her. "Where you can plant a coupla trees, Sweetheart… after you have my kid, of course."
"Trees and questionable taste in vehicles aside," Beth began, pausing intentionally to allow Rio to complain.
"Says the woman who plans on drivin' our kids in some viejo cacharro that's one bad winter away from her Flinstonin' it around Detroit."
"Think of all of the amazing, beautiful memories we've made together here. I don't know about you, but I'm not ready to let those go yet," Beth told both of them.
The loft was where Beth fell in love for the first time in her life, where she not only conceived her second child but where she became a mom to Marcus as well. They cooked together in the kitchen, and they ate together at the dining room table, and they watched TV together all cuddled up on the couch. There wasn't a place in the loft (besides Marcus' room) which didn't hold the ghost of past intimacy between Beth and Rio. They looked at the stars, and carved pumpkins, and listened to the baby's heartbeat out on the rooftop deck, and they had their first Thanksgiving there as a family, soon their first Christmas. Maybe it was unconventional for a family, but the loft was their home.
"Elizabeth," Rio's voice was suddenly soft and compassionate, sympathetic. He reached over to braid their hands together, tugging against her. "Come 'er, Mama." Beth didn't protest when he practically dragged her onto his lap, and then she snuggled against him. Rio wrapped his arms around her, lacing his fingers together on the outside of her hip where thigh met ass. Arching a brow at his son, he asked, "you want in on this, too?"
Marcus giggled. "I can't fit, Daddy!"
"Whatchu talkin' about? I can putchu on my other knee, Pop." Ruining the offer, Rio snickered, "or maybe you can climb up and sit on my shoulders, yeah?"
"Why does this feel less like a sweet moment where you want your family all together and more like a let's taunt Beth about how big she is moment?"
So seriously that it made her choke on a laugh, Marcus replied, "you're not big, Beth; you're pregnant." Because she knew that wasn't an organic response from the eight year old; he had been coached.
"But really, though," Rio sobered completely. "This is just a place, Baby. Those memories you're talkin' about belong to us, not the loft. They go where we go, and we can make a whole hell of a lot more if we're livin' in a place with walls, and doors, and a yard."
"You're really stuck on the idea of doors," Beth both observed and slightly complained.
"Nah, I'm stuck on havin' 'em. With locks."
"Locks work both ways, you know," she reminded him. "We can keep… things out, but we can also be kept out."
Rio immediately rejected her argument. "No lock's keepin' me from my kids, Ma. And I never said their doors would have 'em anyway."
Beth had one last argument to present. "I'm due in ten weeks. Even if you could find us a house before then, I won't be able to help do anything. I won't be able to pack, unpack, or paint. And I certainly don't want to attempt a move with a newborn. If I have to have a c-section, I won't be able to lift anything that weighs more than five pounds or climb stairs. If the two of you really want to move… and why does it feel like this is payback for me and Marcus deciding not to find out the baby's sex," Beth asked her smugly grinning husband rhetorically, "then we're having this conversation really late or a little too prematurely."
"I don't know about you, Pop, but I feel like Elizabeth just laid down a challenge." She instantly started sputtering, because, no, that's not what she was doing, but Rio talked over her wordless protest. "What do you say? Feel like helpin' me find a house and get us moved in before the baby gets here, provin' her wrong?"
With a seriousness that belied his age, Marcus carefully pushed aside his breakfast bowl, folded his arms on top of the table, and observed them earnestly. "Does this mean we can get a dog?"
!
It was strange, when Beth stopped to really think about it, that she and Rio were just going on their first traditional date. As he liked to remind her, they met at her daughter's wedding, slept together within minutes of meeting each other, and she spent the night at his place that very first evening. In fact, she'd gone on outings multiple times with Rio and his son, but the two of them only shared meals together at each other's places. So, yeah, maybe it wasn't conventional - the order by which they were approaching their relationship, but it worked for them, and that's all that Beth cared about.
But Rio wanted to take her out, he wanted to show her off, he said, and show her his bar. Beth had teased him about having one hell of a pick-up line, but he'd just grinned, and preened, and quite accurately claimed that he didn't 'need no lines, Mami.' So, here they were. At Lucky's. Beth had dressed for the occasion in her tightest jeans, a wrap top with a sweetheart neckline and short sleeves, and a pair of fun and flirty but still comfortable sandals. Yes, she was going out to a bar with her boyfriend on a Friday night, but she was also forty years old, and she knew better than to wear something she wouldn't be able to walk or be at ease in after a few rounds.
With a hand on the small of her back, Rio led Beth inside, holding the door open for her. They immediately made their way to the bar, ordering their drinks, and despite the place being packed, they were served right away - one of the perks of drinking (and sleeping) with the boss, Beth supposed. The music was loud, the crowd even louder, and Beth was trying to figure out how their date was actually going to work if they couldn't talk to or hear one another, but then Rio followed her into the booth that was reserved for him rather than sliding in on the opposite side of the red leather banquette.
His left arm went around her shoulders, pulling her even closer, and then his hand hung down seemingly relaxed next to her, but with every slight movement, Rio would brush against her breast. "So, whatchu think, Darlin'?" Rio spoke directly into her ear, practically nuzzled his face into her neck, so he could be heard, and suddenly, Beth understood the appeal of a dark, busy bar. He lifted his tumbler of clear liquor, gin, to his lips with his free hand, sipping leisurely while he awaited her response.
Mirroring his actions, she turned into Rio. Beth's mouth was so close to him that, when she spoke, her lips brushed against his jaw. "I think," she breathed out, making Rio shiver, "that we can't tell my sister about this place." He started laughing even before she finished, amused by how some of the unsexiest words ever spoken juxtaposed with their seductive closeness. "She'd drink you out of house and home."
"Yeah, and what's Little Marks' poison of choice? She drink bourbon, too?"
She knew exactly what he meant, but Beth still teased him. "Are you implying that I'm Big Marks, then?"
Rio's thumb grazed her left nipple, and then he dropped his arm down to cup and squeeze her ass. "Oh yeah, Baby. In all the best ways."
Beth neither needed nor wanted constant validation. She had found that for herself in her education, in parenting Kensley, in her friendships with Ruby and Annie, and in her cooking. And she was aware that she was an attractive woman. She had pretty eyes, a nice smile, and symmetrical features. But she was also a mother, and she had the body to prove it even before Kensley was born. Beth always assumed that men would want her
despite her chest, her hips, her thighs. And then there was Rio. She knew he liked her for more than just her body - you didn't date someone just for their physical appearance, but his blatant attraction to her was a balm on any doubts she'd had about herself over the years and a huge boost to her self-confidence."Well," Beth said once Rio's hand returned to the side of her chest, "Annie is an equal opportunity drinker. There's nothing that she won't try and nothing that is too cheap. However, if she had her choice, it'd be cinnamon schnapps. Extra points for the kind with gold flakes."
Aghast, Rio asked, "you f'real?," making Beth giggle. "You sure the two of yous are even related?"
"You haven't even met her yet," Beth dismissed his question. "For all you know, we could be practically identical… except for our taste in booze.""Nah, I might notta stuck around for any of the festivities, but I was at your kid's wedding reception long enough to know there wasn't anyone else there who looked like you, Sweetheart. I woulda remembered if there were two stacked, red-headed bombshells I wanted to fuck."
Well, that was a new development. Turning into him even further, Beth dropped her right hand down to Rio's thigh both for balance and for a feel. "Are you saying that you saw me before I came into your office that night?"
Rio shook his head slowly, licked his lips, and zeroed his gaze in on her mouth. "I wish I woulda, though, 'cause I'da pulled you back there with me long before then. Made you cum more than twice. But you musta already been busy being a Boss Bitch, and I had to wait."
Curious, she wondered, "if you would have had more time that night, what else would you have done with me?"
"Hmm…," Rio observed her closely, running his eyes slowly down her body before bringing them back up only to land on her chest. Scooting out of the booth and standing in one fluid motion, he drained the last of his drink and then held out his free hand for her. "How about I show you?"
Beth allowed him to help her out of her seat. Once they were both on their feet, Rio laced their hands together and towed her behind him. He shook his empty glass at one of the bartenders as they were walking by the long, mahogany stretch of wood, but he never slowed their pace to actually order another round of drinks. They didn't stop until they entered the back of the bar where there were fewer tables, more lights, and a pool table.
"I don't think I was exactly dressed that night for a round of billiards, do you?""Who said anything about you wearin' clothes," Rio returned without pause.
Picking up a pool cue like she actually knew what she was doing - Beth had watched others play but had never attempted the game herself, she started chalking the tip, intentionally blowing the dust off the end in a very suggestive manner while staring at Rio. "It's too bad you don't have an office here, too, then."
He folded his arms over his chest, nodding towards the back hall. "There's always the bathroom, Baby."
Yeah, that wasn't happening. "Is that how this place got its name: Lucky's?"
Delaying his response, a server brought them refills and took their empties back to the bar. Once they were relatively alone again, Rio finally grabbed his own cue. "You wanna break?," he offered, nodding towards the table.
"I think you should, and I'll just… observe.""You wanna watch me, Mami?" Rio swaggered closer to Beth, came up behind her, and caged her against the table. Leaning heavily into her back, he dropped his face into the crook of her neck, kissed it, and then whispered, "we both know you can handle a stick more powerful than this."
Primly, she replied, "yes, but I'm usually not using it to smack balls around, am I?"
Rio chuckled and became more serious. "I can teach you." The fact that he was grinding his semi into her ass while making the offer told Beth
exactly how those lessons would go."You could," she acknowledged before moving away and crossing to the other side of the table. "But I think you're more of a private tutor. The kind of lessons you're offering will have to wait until we're alone.""We closin' this place down tonight, Ma?""That depends upon how well you can keep me entertained, I guess." Rio's bright grin said he was certainly up to the challenge. "Now, you were telling me about why you named your bar Lucky's?"
He racked the balls, broke, and then started assessing the table before he spoke again. "This place was my first investment after I got out."
"Ah," Beth nodded knowingly. "I get it now.""Story's just startin', Sweetheart. You gonna let me tell it or not?" To soften his words, Rio rubbed her ass as he walked behind her. Beth gasped at the touch, Rio smirked, and then he took his first shot. He made it, of course. "Pop was three at the time.""What was he like at that age?"
It was a deviation away from the topic at hand, but like any proud parent, Rio didn't seem to mind being given the chance to talk about his son. "Cutest li'l shit ever. Ornery. Into everythin'. He had two speeds: all or nothin', and he only dialed it down to nothin' when he crashed at night, 'cause you know he wasn't takin' no damn naps."
Feigning surprise, Beth teased him, "wherever could he have gotten that from?"
Rio paused in lining up his next shot. Bent over the table, he looked up at Beth from underneath his unfairly long and lush lashes. "You gonna regret that later, Mami, when I show you just how varied my pace can be."
"Promises, promises."
Licking his lips decadently, Rio warned her, "oh no, Baby. That ain't no promise; it's a threat." Without breaking their eye contact to look down at the table, Rio took his next shot and made that one, too. Beth felt heat radiating outwards from her core. Her damp panties kept catching on the seam of her jeans, so she would squeeze her thighs together when she moved, trying to shift everything back into place. Rio must have caught her slight adjustments and, knowing what they meant, smiled smugly. "So, three year old Pop was obsessed with dogs, yeah?"
"Aren't all children at that age?""Not like this," Rio insisted. As he talked, he continued to play the table, and Beth tried to pay attention to what he was doing. She really did. But she found herself appreciating the lines of his lithe form rather than how he pulled back and shot the cue stick, staring at how his diamond nose stud caught the bar's lights rather than how he read and used the angles of the balls to his advantage. "He'd only wear clothes if they had dogs on 'em. If we saw someone walkin' a dog, we had to follow 'em. I still ain't sure how I wasn't charged with stalkin'. And he'd pretend to be a dog, too. Drove me and his Moms nuts." Getting more and more annoyed just by listing his grievances, Rio finished with, "It's those damn Puppy Dog Pals' fault."
Seven words Beth
never thought she'd hear come from Rio's mouth. Playing with him, she chastised, "now, don't blame Rolly and Bingo." Then, to twist the knife a little, she started humming the theme song.
Rio immediately straightened to his full height and started stalking towards her. "That ain't funny, Elizabeth!" She just laughed harder. "How do you know about this shit, anyway? Your kid's old enough you shoulda been spared the torture."
"Trust me, there were equally as annoying - if not more so - children's shows on when Kensley was three. But you're forgetting that I'm not just a Mom; I'm also an Aunt, and Harry is Marcus' age. I'm well versed in what the little kids are into these days."
Rio wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her in snug against him while his hands slid into the back pockets of her jeans, clenching. "You well versed in what I'm gettin' into these days as well, Mama."
"Namely, me.""Fuckin' right.""So, Lucky's…?""Yeah, so Pop started beggin' and pleadin' for a dog. It's all he wanted for his birthday, Christmas, you name it. But Rhea refused, and even if I coulda had one at the loft, it woulda been a pain in the ass.""So, no dog for Marcus.""No dog for Marcus," Rio reiterated. "Even if he did already have a name picked out and everythin'."
Curious, she asked, "and that name was…?"
Before responding, Rio kissed the dimple in Beth's chin. Standing back up straight, he wiped all emotion from his face and then said, "Lucky."
And Beth lost it, giggling so uncontrollably that her sides started to hurt, and she almost missed the rest of what Rio had to say. "I wasn't buying no damn dog, but I did buy a bar, and I needed a name, so… I used the name my kid picked out for the pet he was never gonna get." Scowling, he added, "a bar's better than a dog, anyway."
"Not for a three year old," Beth exclaimed, still laughing.
Even while they played several rounds - Rio always winning and Beth still somehow holding off the lessons he kept offering her, she'd randomly start snickering again when she remembered where she was and how it came to be called that. Rio never had to ask her why she was chuckling either. He knew, and he would pout every time it happened. Eventually, Beth took pity on him. After placing her own cue stick back on the table, she slid Rio's from his hands as well, laying it down beside her own. Then, curling their fingers together, she started walking backwards, tugging him with her. Ever since he had mentioned the bathrooms when she lamented the lack of an office at the bar, Beth couldn't help but recall the conversation they had in her bed several weeks before. In fact, she became fixated on it. At his curious expression as to where she was taking him, Beth, blushing in coyness and anticipation, enticingly told him, "I want you to show me the alley."
It was surprisingly well lit behind the bar. That probably had something to do with the basketball hoop Rio had hanging up, but Beth also had to assume that, though firmly in his past, Rio recalled exactly what dark alleys could be used for from his previous… business endeavors. Pointing up towards the old backboard and rim, Beth asked, "for Marcus… if he has to come with you while you're working?"
"Nah, that's for me. I do some of my best thinkin' when I'm takin' my shot."
Everything was a double entendre with him. Beth didn't hate it. "Well, it's too bad there's no ball around then, I guess."
Suddenly, her back was colliding with the brick wall of the building, and Rio was
right there. He gentled his pounce by cradling the back of her head with one of his hands and cushioning the small of her back with his arm slung around her. But, still, Beth felt the impact - not in a painful way, but it was certainly physical. Want reverberated through her. Despite the night air, her skin felt hot and clammy to the touch, and her breathing ticked up several degrees. Rio licked his full bottom lip, ran his teeth over it. "Not the kind of shot I'm talkin' about, Darlin'.""No?"
The hand behind her head snaked its way through her hair, his fingers spreading out and clenching tightly, while Rio's other hand skipped down from her back, along her ass, and then ran over her hip until he could firmly grip her thigh and bring her leg up to wrap around him. The move forced Beth onto her toes, and she panted at the stretch. It was just the opportunity Rio needed to take her mouth under his own… and not let go.
They made out for what had to be at least an hour. Beth didn't think she would ever tire of kissing Rio. His taste, his touch, she craved them both, and there was always just enough variety to keep her on that edge of anticipation. Sometimes, he would just sip at her lips - their mouths joining lightly, delicately, over and over again, and Rio wouldn't even touch his tongue to hers. Then, out of nowhere, he would bite her, latching onto her bottom lip and dragging it towards him until she was left teetering on the brink of pain. Somehow, Rio never crossed that line, never quite broke the skin, but he'd get so close that she'd almost want him to, the tease of if it could hurt just as good as it pleasured tantalizing.
When he did finally slip his tongue inside of her mouth, he'd either take control, lashing her with strong, demanding, powerful thrusts… just like he was fucking her, or he'd give her the power to tempt him, drawling Beth's tongue into his mouth and inviting her to explore. There was no discernible pattern to his kisses, nothing to help her predict what he would do next or how and where he'd embrace her.
Because of their positioning, Beth was cumming in her jeans before she even realized that Rio had her rocking and rutting against him with every roll of her hips. The friction of her clothes against her clit and the pressure of alternately his thigh and then his cock against her center was enough to drive Beth to completion. If it wasn't for how amazing it felt or how much it obviously pleased and turned on Rio to know that he drove her that wild, to watch her get off on him, then maybe she would have been embarrassed. But as Beth was coming back down from her high - Rio's face and mouth buried in her cleavage, she finally noticed the shadow of discomfort in his gaze, felt just how hard he was trapped behind the confines of his own pants.
"Do you want me to…," she offered, nodding down at him. She wasn't going to ruin her jeans or give herself bruises by kneeling on the pavement to suck him off, but she would have gladly wrapped her hand around him and twisted and tugged him to completion, licking her own hand clean afterwards.
But Rio declined. "Save it for later, yeah," he said.
Beth wasn't sure how long it was until last call and closing time, but what she did know was that, as long as Rio was sporting such a raging hard-on, they'd have to stay so close that they were always touching. It wasn't a sacrifice. Walking back inside, he wrapped himself around her from behind, their steps in tandem while his dick brushed up against and poked her ass. She thought maybe he would lead them back to their booth, but instead, they ended up finding a secluded corner and dancing.
Well, even calling what they did swaying would have been generous. Essentially, Rio just palmed her ass, pulled her against him so that they were pressed together from legs to mouth, and then dropped his knees so that he could slot his cock in the cleft between her thighs. By the time the last patron left, Rio had Beth's shirt practically untied. As he dropped his kisses from her lips, to her jaw, to her neck, to her shoulders, he nosed and nudged her already generous neckline to the breaking point, straining the ribbon closure until the blouse was barely hanging on to the very edges of her arms and the furthest swells of her chest. She was in no danger of anyone actually seeing her, though, because somehow Rio's narrow, lithe frame was essentially swallowing her own curvier form.
He sent his employees home as soon as Lucky's cleared out, promising to handle closing duties himself. The looks the bartenders and servers exchanged said that they knew
exactly why Rio wanted them gone. He might have been a good boss, but he wasn't doing their work for them as some sort of bonus or sign of appreciation. No, every single one of them knew that, as soon as Beth and Rio were alone, they were going to have sex. Beth felt her cheeks warm at their awareness but certainly not enough to protest Rio's plan.
But, surprisingly, he didn't immediately strip her of her clothes or lay her down on the nearest available surface. In fact, without much discussion, they quickly worked together to set the bar to rights. While Rio closed out the register and loaded the last of the glasses into the dishwasher - the small kitchen having shut down earlier in the night so to cool down all of the fryers and ovens, Beth stacked chairs and swept the floors. Granted, she gave up on her shirt and took it off, cleaning in just her jeans, sandals, and bra, but Beth figured that, if Rio was showing restraint now in finishing the closing tasks before
finally fucking her, then he probably wouldn't show it once they came together.
It was late, she was tired, and Beth found herself lulled by the monotonous motion of her chores, so when Rio suddenly rasped out behind her, "come 'er, Elizabeth," she jumped.
Turning around, she saw that he was waiting for her by the end of the bar, his long and graceful fingers already making quick work of unbuttoning his shirt and his pants, though he didn't remove either item. Like a moth to a flame, she went to him. "I'm gonna have one last drink, then I'm gonna fuck you, and then we're gonna go back to my place, a'ight?"
She came to stand before him - back to the long length of the mahogany top - as she asked, "what if I want another drink, too?"
Encasing her small waist with his hands, with minimal effort, Rio lifted her up and sat Beth down on the bar. His fingers instantly went to the button and then the zipper of her jeans. With a quick flick of his wrist and a decisive tug, he had them open and ready for him to pull clean off her legs, which he did without delay, peeling them off her body and then immediately dropping them to the side and onto the floor. Putting his palm in the center of her chest, Rio pressed Beth down until she was laying flat on her back. Then he gripped her behind the knees and scooted her down so that her legs were dangling and her ass was just barely on the edge of the counter. Fingers snagging the sides of her lacy thong, he ordered, "up," and she listened, using her core to bridge her bottom and lower back off of the bar long enough for Rio to divest her of her panties.
The next thing Beth knew, the thin scrap of fabric disappeared into his pocket, Rio threw her legs over his shoulders, and then he lowered himself face first between her pale, creamy thighs. "Not that kind of drink, Mami," he growled before sealing his mouth over her center, driving his tongue inside of her warm and slick pussy, and taking a deliciously long and greedy pull.