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Authors: Annie Carroll
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buttons. I like other things, too, but right now—just buttons.” There is a smile in his voice.
Oh, this could be fun—like playing—and it’s only words on the phone and he is almost 300 miles away. I take a deep breath and say sweetly: “I have clothes with buttons. I have a pink blouse with pink buttons up the front.”
“I remember it.” His voice is cold.
Ooops. A mistake. He remembers me talking with Mark at the coffeehouse. He’s not happy about it.
“Has anyone else ever unbuttoned that blouse?”
“No. Never. Only me.” I hear him exhale.
“ That’s good because I might get too excited and throw you on my bed, and shove that little black skirt up to your hips, and rip your panties off and take you hard and fast.”
I gasp. A thought flies through my mind—maybe this is not so fun.
“Oh no, baby, that’s too rough.” His honey voice is back. “I don’t want it rough. I want it slow and gentle. Is that what you want, babygirl?”
“Yes, Austen. Yes.” I sigh.
“I’m going to unbutton the top button, and kiss your throat, so softly. Then unbutton the next one, and kiss you again. Then I unbutton the next button and oh, what is this here? A lacey bra and two beautiful breasts. Then I unbutton the rest of the buttons on the blouse and slide it off you. Julia, you look so beautiful this way.”
His breathing is shallow. So is mine. I am mesmerized by his voice.
“Then I am going to kiss the tops of your breasts and take that bra off. Do you want me to do this, babygirl?”
“Yes.” My answer is more of a breath, a murmur full of longing.
“Oh, I have your bra off and I am holding your breasts in my hands. And then I am kissing them and running my tongue around your nipples and they are so hard. I know you love the way this feels, don’t you? You want more, don’t you?
“ Yes.” I whisper urgently.
“Oh, babygirl, I can do so much more with you. And you are going to love it. I know—“
I hear the squeak of the front gate. Ali and Drew are here.
“Oh , no. Austen, I just heard Ali at the front gate.”
“Still have you r early warning system in place—huh?” He laughs. “Well, I guess this evening will have to be continued… Good night Julia. Sweet Dreams. Dream of me.”
“Dream of me,” I answer. I hang up and hurry upstairs and slip into my flannel pajamas. It is so cold here I have to wear winter pj’s in summer.
When Ali comes up the stairs later I pretend that I am asleep. I want to ask her about her relationship with Drew—but not tonight. I want to go to sleep with Austen’s voice in my mind. And deep down, I admit to myself that I’d rather go to sleep with Austen in my bed.
When the phone rings Wednesday evening I take it to the orange phone booth.
“Hi.”
“Hi baby.”
“How are things going down there?”
“Okay. No, not okay. That damn fool Tommy is barely functioning. Didn’t make it to rehearsals until late and was totally wasted. All he cares about is what bimbo he is screwing this week. And when John and I talked with Joe he showed us the latest sales figures and Tommy has really made a difference. Sales of that album are up—way up from the last one. Shit. Joe said to leave Tommy to his partying and only get together when we have to. Good advice, I guess, but maybe Joe is protecting his own bank account. Hell. I don’t know.”
I know there is not one thing I could say that would make a drop of difference about Tommy and the band.
“Austen,” I say sweetly. “I changed my clothes today. I am wearing jeans and a new peachy pink lacey bra. It’s from France. You can see right through it. I think you’ll like it.”
He laughs. “I am so glad I met you , Julia.” The tone of the phone call changes immediately. His honey voice is back.
“What color are your jeans, baby?”
“They’re blue.” I
Oh, this could be fun—like playing—and it’s only words on the phone and he is almost 300 miles away. I take a deep breath and say sweetly: “I have clothes with buttons. I have a pink blouse with pink buttons up the front.”
“I remember it.” His voice is cold.
Ooops. A mistake. He remembers me talking with Mark at the coffeehouse. He’s not happy about it.
“Has anyone else ever unbuttoned that blouse?”
“No. Never. Only me.” I hear him exhale.
“ That’s good because I might get too excited and throw you on my bed, and shove that little black skirt up to your hips, and rip your panties off and take you hard and fast.”
I gasp. A thought flies through my mind—maybe this is not so fun.
“Oh no, baby, that’s too rough.” His honey voice is back. “I don’t want it rough. I want it slow and gentle. Is that what you want, babygirl?”
“Yes, Austen. Yes.” I sigh.
“I’m going to unbutton the top button, and kiss your throat, so softly. Then unbutton the next one, and kiss you again. Then I unbutton the next button and oh, what is this here? A lacey bra and two beautiful breasts. Then I unbutton the rest of the buttons on the blouse and slide it off you. Julia, you look so beautiful this way.”
His breathing is shallow. So is mine. I am mesmerized by his voice.
“Then I am going to kiss the tops of your breasts and take that bra off. Do you want me to do this, babygirl?”
“Yes.” My answer is more of a breath, a murmur full of longing.
“Oh, I have your bra off and I am holding your breasts in my hands. And then I am kissing them and running my tongue around your nipples and they are so hard. I know you love the way this feels, don’t you? You want more, don’t you?
“ Yes.” I whisper urgently.
“Oh, babygirl, I can do so much more with you. And you are going to love it. I know—“
I hear the squeak of the front gate. Ali and Drew are here.
“Oh , no. Austen, I just heard Ali at the front gate.”
“Still have you r early warning system in place—huh?” He laughs. “Well, I guess this evening will have to be continued… Good night Julia. Sweet Dreams. Dream of me.”
“Dream of me,” I answer. I hang up and hurry upstairs and slip into my flannel pajamas. It is so cold here I have to wear winter pj’s in summer.
When Ali comes up the stairs later I pretend that I am asleep. I want to ask her about her relationship with Drew—but not tonight. I want to go to sleep with Austen’s voice in my mind. And deep down, I admit to myself that I’d rather go to sleep with Austen in my bed.
When the phone rings Wednesday evening I take it to the orange phone booth.
“Hi.”
“Hi baby.”
“How are things going down there?”
“Okay. No, not okay. That damn fool Tommy is barely functioning. Didn’t make it to rehearsals until late and was totally wasted. All he cares about is what bimbo he is screwing this week. And when John and I talked with Joe he showed us the latest sales figures and Tommy has really made a difference. Sales of that album are up—way up from the last one. Shit. Joe said to leave Tommy to his partying and only get together when we have to. Good advice, I guess, but maybe Joe is protecting his own bank account. Hell. I don’t know.”
I know there is not one thing I could say that would make a drop of difference about Tommy and the band.
“Austen,” I say sweetly. “I changed my clothes today. I am wearing jeans and a new peachy pink lacey bra. It’s from France. You can see right through it. I think you’ll like it.”
He laughs. “I am so glad I met you , Julia.” The tone of the phone call changes immediately. His honey voice is back.
“What color are your jeans, baby?”
“They’re blue.” I
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