Silent Flutter (The Butterfly Series) Read online

  October 8, 2011

  Things were going great between us. I pushed aside all of the doubt and questions, and just…lived. And loved.

  He came to stay with me a couple nights a week and then we would trade off and I would go to Him. His roommates were two guys that He met in His Business Management course and teammates in His Intramural Football League on campus. They were in their last year of college, as well, and also aspired to one day own their own businesses. His main focus was in advertising, and He hoped to one day start up His own firm. The only problem was, that meant He would have to further His education in a graduate program for at least two more years after receiving His undergraduate’s degree. I loved His ambition. He was focused and driven when it came to school; and even more so when it came to His future career. We hadn’t talked about what would happen or where we would be after graduation until one night at His apartment.

  “Hey, Sweetheart!” He greeted as I entered His apartment.

  “Hey, Babe. How are you,” I returned as I gave Him a quick peck on the lips.

  “Better now that you’re here.” He scooped me up into His arms and returned a longer, lingering kiss. One of His roommates, the surfer type with long, silky hair, came out of his room to greet me as well.

  “What’s up Quinn? How ya been?” He asked. That was how he always greeted me. He often chuckled at how it rhymed.

  “I’ve been great, thanks!” I answered. “What are you guys up to tonight?”

  “I think we are going to head to The Pub to grab a few beers and maybe some grub. Y’all in?” The Pub was the actual name of the bar down the road. The guys went there after class to grab drinks or after a game with the rest of their teammates. It was fun, very low key, but that night I just wanted to stay in and spend some alone time with Him.

  “I think we are going to pass this time,” He told His roommate. “I need to spend some time with my girl.” My thoughts exactly.

  His roommates left for The Pub about twenty minutes later, and He and I were left in peace. He offered to make some steaks on the grill out on the patio while I fixed up some sides in the kitchen. Dinner was delicious and so was the company. He looked so good in his tight, green Polo shirt and khaki cargo shorts that I could hardly keep my hands off of him while we ate. His skin was bronzed from playing football and His muscles rippled beautifully under the fabric of His shirt. I found myself staring at Him during the lulls in conversation, and admiring the ease in which He could make me laugh. No one would ever be able to make me laugh the way He could.

  After dinner we retreated to His bedroom to order a movie off of the On Demand channel on T.V. We cuddled up in His navy blue flannel sheets, His body folded into mine with perfection. His head rested closely on the pillow behind mine while His fingers made sensual trails down my neck, arms and back. His touch felt velvety on my skin, and suddenly I had an intense urge to tease and please the man lying behind me. “I’ll be right back,” I turned my head slightly to whisper in His ear.

  I slid out of His bed and went back to the living room to find the thin charcoal gray scarf that I was wearing when I first arrived. I also went to the kitchen and filled a plastic cup with ice cubes from the trays in the freezer. I was finally going to put all of my years of reading Cosmopolitan Magazine to use.

  When I returned to His bedroom, He was still lying on His side in the same position that I left Him in, as if He was ready for me to fold my body right back into His. The thought of it was enticing, but I had something a lot more alluring in mind. “What do you have there?” He asked. His left eyebrow arced when He spotted the scarf dangling from my fingers.

  “Lie on your back and close your eyes.” I instructed.

  “Mmmm,” He moaned. “I like this bossy side of you.”

  As soon as He rolled onto his back, I crawled onto the bed until I was straddling His waist. I took the cup and placed it on the night stand next to the bed, and then wrapped the scarf around His eyes and tied it in a knot behind His head like a blindfold. “You aren’t allowed to peek,” I told Him. “If I had another scarf I would have tied your hands up too, so that you wouldn’t have control of those either, but since I don’t, I’m going to have to trust you not to use them. No matter how badly you want to,” I added.

  “Quinn, Babe, this is hot” He let out. “I’ll do whatever you want, Sweetheart,” He said as He slid His hands behind His head, securing them against the mattress. “I’ll promise not to move if you promise me that I’m not going to open my eyes and find like another dude in here or something.”

  I laughed out loud. “This is all for you,” I reassured Him. “I’m all yours tonight. Well, actually…you’re all mine.” I lifted His Polo over His head and tossed it on the floor. Then I did the same with my blouse, even though He couldn’t see me through the scarf. I carefully slid my nearly naked body across His torso so that He could paint a picture in His head. I let my hands wander across His chest and down His sculpted abs to then tease Him just above the belt on His shorts. I struggled for a moment with the leather before finally releasing it and unclasping the medal. “You know, you should really stop wearing these when I’m around,” I giggled before pulling the belt completely free from the loops.

  “I normally take care of that part for you. I wasn’t aware that you’d be going all dominatrix on me tonight or I would’ve worn or not worn whatever you told me to.”

  “I’m not going dominatrix on you. I just want to try something, and I think you will be much more sensitive and receptive without your sense of sight.”

  “Then don’t let me stop you. By all means, please, continue,” He added eagerly.

  Once I had His shorts off and He was left in nothing but His boxers, I began a trail of sensuous kisses from His mouth down His neck and onto His chest. He writhed beneath me and hummed and moaned when my lips touched on His most sensitive areas. When I reached His waistband, my tongue did a tantalizing dance just beneath it, and He rocked His hips towards me. “How am I supposed to not touch you when all I can think about is touching you when you tease me like that?” He asked in a winded breath.

  “Because touching me is against the rules. Stay put,” I commanded. I lifted myself off of Him for a split second to reach my hand in the cup and retrieve an ice cube and He instantly began groaning and begging me to return.

  I popped the ice into my mouth and returned to lowest point on His hips. With the ice melting quickly, I swiftly removed His boxers and took Him into my mouth, slowly and gently. This time He moaned loudly with pleasure at the sensation brought on by the combination of the cold ice and the warmth of my tongue and lips. The blindfold was working; His sense of touch was in overdrive and I could feel it.

  When one ice cube melted I’d continue for a few seconds without getting another, letting His body enjoy the warmth of mouth. Then I’d silently place another piece on my tongue so that He wouldn’t hear it coming, and the shock of the cold would have Him shuddering in ecstasy all over again. I continued this routine until the cup of ice was empty and He reached His breaking point of desire.

  When I lifted my right leg from the side of His waist to rejoin the left, He released His hands from behind His head and untied the scarf from His eyes. At first He sat still, stunned, taking in my half naked body and regaling in the glow of satisfaction. Finally, He reached for me. A smile crept onto His face as He pulled me down to lay back in His trembling arms again. “I don’t know where that came from, but that was amazing. Better than amazing,” He breathed.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” I replied timidly.

  “Do you think the whole cold ice, warm mouth combo works as good on you?” He asked slyly. And before I could answer, the lights went out and all I could see were hundreds of tiny, dark threads against my lashes.

  The next morning we awoke around 10:00 AM. We didn’t normally sleep that late, but a night of pure fantasy can contribute to a very deep and comfortable sleep. His arms were still wrapped securely ar
ound my body, when I felt Him stir against me. “Good morning, Beautiful.”

  “Good morning, Handsome. Did you sleep well?” I asked. I knew the answer judging by the sheepish grin still displayed on His lips. “I’ll take that as a yes,” I answered for Him.

  “Yes, very well. I wish I could go to sleep and wake up with you like this every day.”

  “That would be fun,” I responded.

  “Well, then why don’t we?”

  “Why don’t we, what?”

  “Move in together.” He said confidently. I stared at Him blankly for a moment. “I don’t mean right now, today. I mean after we graduate this May. You said you thought about maybe moving to the Houston area to teach, and I’ve been talking to my advisor about internships up there. I could work somewhere while attending grad school at U of H.”

  I processed everything He had just said. I didn’t have a clue that He had been talking to His advisor about jobs in Houston, nor that He would want to move in together this soon. We hadn’t even been together for a year yet. On the other hand, that wasn’t as big of a deal as it would have been in normal circumstances since He had been my best friend for years before we started dating. I looked up at His eyes and realized that He was waiting on my answer. “Can I have a little while to think about it?”

  It wasn’t the answer He was hoping for. I could read the disappointment in the lines creasing between His brows and in the sudden sadness in His eyes. “Yeah, of course you can. Moving in with someone is a big deal, and I can understand why you would want to sleep on it.”

  I needed more than just one night to sleep on it, but at least He wasn’t mad that I didn’t give him an answer right away.

  December 9, 2011

  It had been two months since He asked me to move in with Him, and I still had yet to give Him an answer. I had so much on my mind with finishing up my semester of student-teaching and preparing for the next semester at the high school level that I didn’t have time to really think about life after graduation.

  My last day at H.M. Royal Junior High was sad to say the least. I had formed such a connection with my students that it was really hard for me to say goodbye. I was also going to miss my first mentor, and probably one of the greatest teachers that I would ever have the pleasure to learn from, Mrs. McCray. The students gave me a scrapbook full of their original poems as a going away present. I flipped through each page, skimming the titles and the names of my student authors beneath them as tears streamed down my cheeks and my heart filled with pride. I hugged each one of them before leaving that day, and made them promise to keep journaling. Just before I walked out of the classroom that had become more like a home over the past few months, Mrs. McCray wrapped me in a hug, as well. “You are going to be one hell of a teacher,” she whispered in my ear. Then she gripped my shoulders and extended her arms out so that she could look me in the eye. “Your future students are lucky to have someone like you to guide them and teach them in their vulnerable states as adolescents. I wish you nothing but the best of luck, Ms. Borders, and don’t forget to email once and a while from the big bad city of Houston.”

  The tears continued to swell and fall from my eyes as I hugged her once more and thanked her for everything that she showed and taught me. I am forever grateful for Mrs. McCray.

  Once I returned to campus, I gathered all of my final paperwork into a large manila envelope and placed it into the box outside of my advisor’s office. I was officially finished with my first semester of student teaching, and out of all of the emotions that I had felt that day, the one that I found to be most shocking, was pride. I didn’t expect to feel that proud of my students, but most of all, of myself.

  I drove the two miles back to my crappy apartment so that I could begin packing my bags to head to my parents’ for the holiday break. When I was gathering clothes and toiletries into my suitcase, I couldn’t help but think that this might be the last time that I would get to spend almost a month in my childhood home. The feeling was surreal. Soon I would be graduating, and then off to a new city to start my own career and my own life. Yes, I would visit my parents, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would be for weekends here and there when my schedule allowed for it. I wondered if there ever would come a time when it would no longer feel like home. I hope not.

  December 31, 2011

  “Are we really going to The Pasture again this year?” I asked Mary when she called to tell me the plans for that evening.

  “I thought you liked The Pasture? I thought maybe we could make it like, like a tradition. And no matter how old any of us gets or where we end up in our lives, we always come back to the same place on December thirty-first,” she trailed off, lost in her own sentimental thoughts.

  The more I thought about her words, the more I liked the sound of always knowing where I could find my friends, even if it was only once a year. “But what if my dad’s friend decides to sell the place one day? Then what will we do?” I asked.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Until then, we’ll just have to make sure that we keep up our end of the bargain and…”

  We both continued in unison, “leave the place cleaner than it was when we got there!” We laughed hysterically from each of our ends of the phone line. I couldn’t think of any other way to spend New Year’s than at The Pasture with my best friends for the third year in a row and for the rest of our lives (or until he sold the place). “I’ll give my dad’s friend a call to let him know that we’ll be out there tonight. Pick me up at eight?”

  “You bet your cute ass. You better be ready!” she added before hanging up.

  I ended the call and then called Him to let Him in on the plans for the night. By the time He answered I was overflowing with excitement. I loved New Year’s, always had, and the thought of making it a permanent tradition in my life gave me a sense of…hope, for my future. Something to look forward to no matter what.

  “The Pasture, again?” He asked. His voice was not nearly matching the excitement in mine.

  “Yeah!” I exclaimed excitedly. “We are thinking of making it a tradition and going back there every year for the rest of our lives. What do you think?” I asked playfully.

  “I think that sounds a little naïve.”A lump formed in my throat and it felt as if my tongue went numb. I was unable to form words, because His just felt like a punch in the stomach. When I didn’t respond He continued. “Well, don’t get mad, Sweetheart, I’m just being realistic. What are the odds that we’ll all be able to make it back to The Pasture again in ten years? Hell, we probably won’t even be back there next year. I just don’t want you to get your hopes up for something that realistically won’t happen.” Trust me; you’ve just squashed all hope that I may have had. “ Besides, I’m sure we’ll get bored of going out there eventually. I’m not even sure that I want to go to The Pasture again this year. Aren’t you getting a little tired of it?”

  Within seconds I went from excited and hopeful to pissed and hopeless. I know that “realistically” we probably wouldn’t be able to spend every New Year’s for the rest of our lives at The Pasture, but what was wrong with a little dreaming? Why couldn’t He at least pretend to be excited about the idea? For me. I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I continued with the only response that I knew He would agree with. “Well, I think it’s a little late to change our plans now, so for at least this year, can you just be on board with this?” I paused to wait for His answer.

  “Well, yeah, of course. I mean, it’s already six o’clock, we can’t change our plans now.” That’s exactly what I just said.

  “Ok, well, The Girls are going to pick me up at eight, so I’ll see you out there, ok?” My voice had been taken down about five octaves since the start of our conversation. I knew He could sense it, but He didn’t let on that He knew I was hurt. I also knew that He wanted me to ride out there with Him, but if this really was going to be the last time we all went to The Pasture for New Year’s, then I wanted to go with The Girls.


  “You’re going to ride with The Girls?” He asked.

  “Well, I just figured since its like tradit…”

  He cut me off, “Ok, see you out there then.” Click.

  I heard Mary’s Tahoe pull into the driveway at five past eight. The Guys would inevitably beat us there again and bitch about how late we were…again. I took the steps two at a time, ready to get out of the house and away from my wandering thoughts about my relationship as fast as possible. I was upset with Him about ruining my good mood, and He was clearly upset with me for not wanting to ride with Him. I heard her honking when I finally hit the bottom step. “Your friends are here, Honey,” Mom said as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.

  “So I hear,” I replied sarcastically, as Mary continued to lay on the horn. “Do you and Dad have any big plans for the night? I mean, besides drinking and passing out on the couch together?”

  Mom chuckled at how well I knew them, but then I was surprised to hear her response. “Actually, if you must know, your dad and I have been invited to a party at the new neighbor’s house. I’m not sure if I want to go, though. We don’t know them all that well, and you know how your dad gets when he drinks wine and champagne instead of beer.”

  “Ahh, yes, the life of the party,” I laughed, thinking about the few times I had been with my dad at a social gathering that wasn’t serving Bud Light. He always managed to be the loudest one in the group and my mom had to practically force him to leave at the end of the night because he always thought that they were supposed to be the last ones standing. “Y’all should go, Mom,” I urged. “It’ll be good to get out of the house on New Year’s for once. Besides, they seem pretty nice.”