Kristen Ashley - Breathe

“You think I’ll man up while you trash talk Faye, I’ll shut that down now,” Chace said low and there were more lip twitches.

“Is it possible to trash talk Faye?” Tate asked then went on, his lips surrounded by a full on beard curved upwards, “Pure as the driven snow.”

Fuck.

“Been around,” Wood muttered, grinning at Tate. “Done a lot. Never been down a road no one’s ever taken.”

Fuck.

“Sweet,” Deke whispered, his grin aimed at Chace.

Chace took a healthy slug of beer this time as he rose. After he found his feet, he put the bottle on the table and announced, “Now, I’m shuttin’ this shit down. Thanks for the beer and the time,” he said to Tate then moved his gaze through the men before he began to leave.

“You don’t get it, Keaton,” Ty’s voice stopped him and his tone made Chace look back. “Clean pussy therefore undoubtedly sweet pussy, we’re happy for you, man.”

“Not sure I like you referring to Faye as ‘pussy’,” Chace warned, not giving that first fuck Ty had five inches and a shitload of bulky muscle on him.

“Lex don’t like it either but she got used to it. You will too,” Ty replied.

“Terrific,” Chace muttered not thinking in a million years that Ty Walker would be his bud. Now after getting the Walker Style “you’re in my posse” statement, he was at odds with how he felt about it.

“He’s not lyin’, Chace,” Tate said quietly and Chace looked to him. “That works out, pleased for you. You get a good woman in your bed, life has a way of straightening itself out.”

“Road can’t be murky, it’s got light shinin’ on it,” Ty added. Chace shook his head, not at odds with how he felt about Tatum Jackson and Tyrell Walker, two of the biggest badasses he knew, demonstrating signs they were pussy whipped and didn’t give a shit.

“She’s got any friends, I’m on the market,” Deke put in at this point and Chace was done.

To communicate this, he lifted a hand, dropped it, moved to the door and the sounds of deep, low chuckles followed him out.

It took him two steps to shake that shit off.

Firstly, because it wasn’t nasty or jacked so it wasn’t worth getting irritated at.

Secondly, because he had a shitload of food at his house including a bottle of hazelnut half and half.

I drove to Chace’s place attempting to control my breathing. This was because I was near on hyperventilating.

And this was because tonight was the night.

I’d decided.

Tonight I was going to give Chace my virginity.

Chace didn’t know this yet, of course. It was my decision. Although I was fraking nervous, I was sticking with it.

I’d made this decision for a variety of reasons.

Firstly, because I’d fallen in love from afar with Chace at sixteen and now we were dating. I’d known for thirteen years he was the man I wanted to give it up to. Therefore, even though we hadn’t been dating long, considering I’d been into him for thirteen years, I figured it was high time I got down to doing that.

Secondly, because I was twenty-nine, I finally had a boyfriend so it was also high time I got laid.

And last, because with all the necking and early morning phone calls, Chace a touch away or his voice, sleepy and sexy coming to me over the phone or his tongue in my mouth, for the first time in my life, I needed to get laid.

The problem with this was, I had no clue how to go about doing that.

I knew Chace was experienced. I knew this through living in the same small town as him as well as experiencing firsthand that, well, experience albeit limitedly. Men had to get some too (I thought) and he was around me enough he couldn’t be getting it elsewhere (I hoped). So I didn’t really get why he wouldn’t allow it to go beyond necking.

My only thought was that, Chace being Chace or who I was getting to know as Chace, was smart, he was experienced and putting both of those together he knew or figured out I was not. So, being Chace, a good guy, he was taking things slowly. Not to mention, I wasn’t exactly like the other women I’d known he’d been with. It wasn’t (outside of Misty) like they were all loose. They just weren’t like me. I’d grown up in Carnal, my Mom and Dad had too, not to mention they were well-known and well-liked. Maybe it was a respect thing.

Whatever it was, I was going for it.

But before I went for it, I needed advice.

This time, I didn’t even have to think about it. At a quiet time in the library, I’d grabbed my cell, moved to my open office door, stood in it with eyes directed into the library and I’d called Krystal. Quickly and succinctly I explained my dilemma while trying and likely failing not to blush.

Krystal’s response?

“I’ll be there in five.”

This was both a relief and it made me even more nervous.

Those nerves escalated when she wasn’t at the library in five. She arrived in fifteen. My heart started palpitating when I saw her stroll through the door with Twyla.

Now, I liked Twyla and the night I had drinks with Chace at Bubba’s, Twyla had demonstrated (surprisingly) that she liked me too. Every girl always had openings for new girls in her posse and one could say I had more openings than most since my girl posse for years had been limited. Unless you were the type of woman to steal boyfriends or clothes, all girls were welcome.

It was just that Twyla didn’t seem like one of the girls. This was mostly because she was known throughout town as being able to best just about anyone at arm wrestling and I wasn’t talking her engaging in this activity with other women. Though, I’d heard this wasn’t unheard of, it just took her a lot less time to win. She also was known to be an ex-marine. And last she was known to hold great disdain for all things girlie. So being in a girl posse didn’t seem to be something she’d desire.

Then again, she was a girl and every girl, even me, knew that men were awesome for some things but others, no one but another girl would do.

My current situation being a prime example.

I just wasn’t certain this instance was one of those that Twyla could be helpful with.

Further, I was not fired up by the idea of everyone in Carnal knowing intimate details of my life, including my life with Chace. That made me uncomfortable, for me, but it also made me uncomfortable because Chace had been the topic of a lot of discussion for a long time. Before that happened, he seemed a man who liked to live quiet. That choice had been taken away from him. Now, when he could get it back, I thought he should.

When they made it to the checkout desk, both scanning the vicinity to see there were no patrons close, I decided to start.

And I started with a lame, “Uh…”

Krystal’s eyes sliced to me and she answered my unasked question. “She wouldn’t hear no for an answer. Don’t know how she knew. My side of the conversation was five words. She just did. I tried to talk her out of it. Ten minutes, didn’t work, pissed me off so I just came. She followed.” Krystal then looked to Twyla. “By the way, the time we’re here, you’re not gettin’ paid for bein’ there.”

Twyla was a waitress at Krys’s bar. By the look on Twyla’s face, she didn’t care that she’d lose her probably not very exciting waitress wages.

She didn’t respond to Krystal. She looked to me and stated immediately, “Throw yourself at him.”

“Holy frak,” I breathed, my lungs seizing at the thought.

“Are you nuts?” Krystal hissed, leaning into Twyla.

“Do I look nuts?” Twyla returned, and unfortunately the answer to that was, yes, she did.

It wasn’t that she was built like a truck which she was. It wasn’t this because she was entirely comfortable in her frame, she worked it and thus it worked for her.

It was that she wore her hair in a female mullet. A male mullet was bad enough. A female mullet, well, I wasn’t the keeper of all things fashionable and felt people should do what they liked but I also knew what everyone else did. That a mullet was one place no man or woman should ever go.

Krys gave up on Twyla and looked to me. “Do not do that. Talk to him.”

Twyla stopped looking at Krys and her eyes came to me. “Do not talk to him. Throw yourself at him.”

“Stop telling her that,” Krys snapped at Twyla.

Twyla crossed her arms on her chest and looked back at Krystal.

“You get I like girls,” she stated but it was a prompt.

“Yes,” Krystal replied.

“And I like girls who do things like wear mascara and lipstick.”

“I know your partner, Twyla, you both were at my house for Bubba’s barbeque spareribs three weeks ago,” Krys returned.

“Right so, I like girls. And I’ve liked ‘em all my life. I was a marine. I’ve shot a gun. I own five of them, guns that is. I watch the Nuggets, Avs, Broncos and Rockies. I’ve never in my life worn a skirt. I wear a sports bra because with these babies,” she circled her bosoms with a pointed finger before dropping her hand to the checkout desk, “I got no choice. God saw fit to grant me an A cup, no way. Since I’m a C, I’m fucked. I have never worn mascara. I do not own a blow dryer. And I get off on goin’ down on chicks. Now which one, you or me, has more in common with Chace Keaton?”

I had to admit, she had a point there.

Krystal had to admit it too, even though I could tell she didn’t want to. I could tell because she opened her mouth and closed it.

Twyla looked at me.”Throw yourself at him.”

Krystal closed her eyes, dropped her head to look at her boots and her honeyed locks fell forward to hide her face.

I whispered to Twyla, “I kinda already tried that.”

Krystal’s head shot up as Twyla’s eyebrows did the same.

“No go?” Twyla asked.

“He, uh… shuts it down or, um… redirects it but um… mostly shuts it down and concentrates on kissing.”

“He know you’re a virgin?” Twyla asked.

“Um…” I answered, not knowing until then that Twyla knew I was a virgin.

“How much neckin’ you do?” Twyla requested details when I was unable to go on.

“I have little experience but it feels like, on a scale of one to ten, one hundred and fifteen.”

Krystal grinned.

Twyla kept up her interrogation. “So, you had little experience before him?”

I nodded.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much experience did you have?” Twyla pushed.

“Point two five,” I replied quietly.

“He knows you’re a virgin,” Twyla muttered and my heart jumped, not pleasantly.

Krystal punched her in the arm. “Now you’re freaking Faye out.”

“Uh, just to be clear, the ‘throw yourself at him’ bit already freaked me out,” I shared.

“So what’s on tonight?” Twyla asked, ignoring my share.

“Dinner at his place, the first time I’ve been there,” I told her.

“Bring panties and a toothbrush. Then find a way to tell him you brought panties and a toothbrush.” She suddenly clapped, I jumped and she finished, “Done.”

“Oh my God, that’s actually a good idea,” Krystal whispered and Twyla’s eyebrows shot up again, this time in affront.

“You think I walked five blocks in the Colorado Mountain March cold for no reason?” Twyla queried. “I’m a lesbian who can jack most motherfuckers up. I know non-lesbians who can do the same. You bein’ one of ‘em, I might add, though you do it with a shotgun in your hand. Same freakin’ thing. But bein’ a lesbian don’t make me not good at advice.”

I made mental note of this and added Twyla to my phone tree for when I experienced a relationship emergency.

“I didn’t say that you weren’t,” Krystal retorted.

“Felt that way,” Twyla shot back, Krys’s eyes narrowed and she leaned in.

“Now you’re being sensitive. I’ll remind you, Faye called me,” Krys stated.

“Maybe so, but when there’s a problem, it’s all hands on deck,” Twyla returned.

Krystal had no retort, looked stymied and also looked angry that she was. Not unusual, just scarier than normal.

I decided to wade in. “Just an FYI,” I said to Twyla. “I’ve added you to my relationship emergency phone tree.”

Twyla grinned huge at me.

“Great,” Krys muttered. “I finally get my shot, I get bumped because Twyla horned in.”

I blinked at Krystal because she sounded genuinely aggrieved.

It then hit me that Krystal Briggs had let me in. Not like she had Chace. In in. She cared about me. She wanted to help. I was past the hard outside layer that kept everyone out and was in the soft, warm center.