She moans and her hands find either side of my head holding me in place. I continue my exploration on the right before giving equal attention to her left.
She's squirming on the table, trying to get relief to the ache that's consuming her.
"Are you there, Scout?"
"Almost." Her eyes are closed and her mouth is open slightly. She draws in a deep breath, holds it, and forces it out long and loud. It repeats and each time she does it grows in volume and her features tighten infinitesimally. It's a climax building, and I'm watching the same intense pleasure I'm feeling mirrored in her expression. "So. Close."
I pull back until just the tip of me is still inside her and then I push back in slowly. When I'm all the way in I urge her to lean back slightly, cup her ass in my hands, and tip her hips so I can go even deeper. When I make a final push I gain further access and she sighs. I'm as deep as I can go.
"You feel so damn good," I whisper as I repeat the movement, because holy hell.
Her eyes are closed when she responds. "So damn good," which gives way to a low moan that builds and builds to, "Oh, God! Oh my God! So good! God, yes!"
And the next thing I know, my release comes. It's powerful and so fucking satisfying, like I've been storing it up for years. There are so many things I want to say ... to shout. But for some reason I hold it in and all that comes out is a hum from deep in my chest. It amplifies what's going on with every other part of this connection we have.
I never take my eyes off of her, and when she relaxes and finally opens her eyes they are so full of bliss that it takes my breath away.
"Hi," she whispers and smiles. And that smile? I want to look at that smile every day for the rest of my life. It's like a still frame of contentment. "I think I like L.A."
I smile back. "Hi. I miss home, but the sex is fucking outstanding here," I add with a wink.
Scout stays for another hour. We sit on my bed and talk and eat her cookies with a big glass of milk that we share for dunking, which should seem boring after a property damaging session, but it's not. I love talking to her. The transformation she's made since I first met her is amazing. She used to hide from the world, living inside herself. It was like she was living dual roles. On the inside she was confident, strong, and self-assured, but on the outside something got lost in translation.
"Tell me about your parents," I say. I don't know if she will or not, but I feel comfortable enough around her now to ask her anything.
Her mouth is full of cookie, so she waits until she swallows to answer. "There's not a lot to tell really. Last time I heard from my mom she was in India. That was a couple years ago. My dad lives in Brooklyn. I haven't seen him in a year or so."
She doesn't sound sad. She tells the story like she's reciting a grocery list. So I press on. "What was your childhood like? I assume your parents are divorced?"
She shakes her head. "My parents were never married. My dad was a musician. He played small bars around Brooklyn and busked to scrape by, still does as far as I know. He's actually not bad, but he has issues living in the real world. You know, where you're required to be sober more than drunk." She raises her eyebrows to drive her point home. "Anyway, I guess my mom was kind of a groupie. They hooked up a few times. She got pregnant. They stayed together until I was born and then my mom split."
My first thought goes to Ma. She's a rabid protector of me and anyone else she sees as her child. I know all moms aren't like her, but I can't fathom a mom abandoning her kid. "She left? Like left, left?"
She nods. "Yeah, I've always thought of her as a gypsy. I don't think she's ever had a job. I know she's never had a place of her own. She just drifts through the world. She makes friends and has lovers. They take her in until she gets the itch to move on to the next. I hear from her every couple of years. I've never met her in person, only seen her in a photo my dad has."
"Shit. That's fucked up, Scout."
She shrugs like she agrees and disagrees with me. "It is what it is. I'd rather not have her in my life, than have her and feel like a burden. My dad raised me. It worked out."
"What's your dad like?" I'm almost afraid to ask because I know she said she didn't live with him after the accident.
She blinks a few times like she's trying to remember him. "He loves alcohol. He loves music. And he loves me. In that order."
I know this isn't easy for her to talk about, so I ask her a question to keep her talking. "You grew up in Brooklyn?"
"For the most part, yeah. My dad never had his own place, so we moved around a lot. Stayed with friends of his, girlfriends, sometimes a bar owner would set us up in a room above the bar for a month or two as payment for him playing at night. I never knew any different, so to me it was normal. I was alone a lot, but it forced me to be independent."
"And what about after the accident?"
The look in her eyes is far away. "The accident." She pauses. "My dad got a gig in upstate New York. He borrowed a car and we drove there. I sat backstage while he played ... I remember reading Little House on the Prairie while I waited." She smiles faintly at the memory. "He drank for a few hours after he finished playing. I read some more. When he came for me and told me it was time to go home I knew he was drunk." She shrugs. "He was always drunk, so I didn't know I should be scared. We got in the car. It was snowing outside and I remember how cold the backseat was when I lay down on the vinyl. I didn't put my seatbelt on. I didn't even think about it. I'd only ever ridden in a car a few times before. We always rode the subway at home. Anyway, I fell asleep, and woke up in the middle of wreckage and fire." She's staring off into space and her eyes are glassy. Her voice is quiet, but so intense it holds me fast; I have no choice but to listen. "It was so hot. That's the thing I remember the most ... even more than the pain ... the heat." She licks her lips before she continues. "I was trapped in the car. My dad was outside. I could see him walking around. I screamed and screamed for him, and then I passed out."