Chapter Six

Dawson

"Oh, yes, Dawson. Give me more."

I up the pace, just slightly, my cock buried deep inside her, and she brings her legs up, wrapping them around me, pulling me in.

"Keep doing that, and you're gonna make me come."

"I know."

Something doesn't feel quite right. I'm about to lose my mind, but not only is her voice a little lower than I remember, her body's different, too. Stevie's breasts were quite small, but the woman beneath me, who's urging me on, begging me to fill her, has firm, large breasts, with really hard, dark pink nipples. Her waist is narrow, and her stomach is flat and toned. Stevie didn't look like that. Even when we first got together, she didn't look like that. She'd always been conscious of her figure. Not that I ever did anything but admire it, but that insecurity of hers was how she convinced me she needed to join the gym… the gym that used to be owned by Mitch Bradshaw, where she met Peony's ex.

For a second or two, my brain zones out… and images of the two of them filter in. I slow the pace, thinking about him helping her, guiding her through her training, his hands on her body, drawing her away from me.

"Why are you doing this? Why are you leaving me?"

My brain is in a muddle, two scenes overlapping…

"Take me. Please… I need you, Dawson."

And I'm back. It's me. Me and Stevie, and I'm giving her everything I've got. No matter how good she feels, though, I know something else is wrong. Her pussy is shaved. It's stretched around my cock, her lips smooth and swollen, pink and glistening, and I can't take my eyes off of it. Only that's not right. Stevie tried shaving her pussy once, and nearly went insane with how itchy it was when the hairs grew back in. I told her the secret was to keep it shaved, but she decided it wasn't worth it, in which case…

"You're so big… give me your come… please, Dawson."

"Not yet. It's your turn first."

"But I already came on your tongue… twice."

"I know, but it's not enough. I want more."

I gaze down at her perfect body, leaning in to capture a hardened nipple between my teeth. She squeals and comes. Hard. She's so damn tight, clamped around my cock, and it's more than I can take, especially when she screams my name, and I smile down at her…

My eyes shoot open and I sit up, bathed in sweat.

That wasn't Stevie's face.

It was Macy's.

And my cock is so hard, it hurts.

I push back the covers and even in the moonlight, I can see it straining, and I can't resist. I flop back against the pillows and reach down, wrapping my hand around my shaft, closing my eyes and willing Stevie's image to filter into my head. It doesn't, though. The only sight I can see is the woman I was just fucking in my dreams… the one with Macy's face, and I move my hand up and down, faster and faster, losing myself in the thought of that.

"Fuck… yeah…"

My eyes might be closed, but I'm awake and fully conscious now… thinking about her straddling me, riding my cock, taking me deep inside her, begging me for more.

"Take me, baby… take all of me."

She does as I say, grinding her hips and reaching up to tweak her nipples, her head rocking back as I bury myself balls deep inside her.

My howl fills the room, Macy's name forming a part of it, and I can't take another moment. I couldn't stop myself, even if I wanted to, and right now, I don't. I need this. Long arcs of come spurt up over my bare chest. I'm overcome and I struggle to breathe, still whispering her name, even as my orgasm reaches its peak and then slowly ebbs and burns out, leaving me shaking.

"Jesus," I whisper.

I haven't come like that since I don't know when, and I open my eyes, awash with something that feels like guilt. I can't be sure why, though. Is it because that's the first time I've ever dreamed of having sex with someone that wasn't Stevie? Is it because that's the first time I've ever said anyone else's name at that particular moment? Or is it because the person I dreamed of, and the name I said, was Macy?

Dreaming about Stevie didn't stop when she left. Maybe that was because the reality had gone, and I knew it would never come back again. Not because she wouldn't have wanted to, but because I wouldn't have let her. Even if she'd begged me, I wouldn't have taken her back, and I still wouldn't. But I dreamed of her. Not very often and not at all for about the last six months or so, although it used to be frequent enough that it still feels odd to dream about someone else. Those dreams never used to make me come, though. They were always tinged with too much sadness.

So I can't believe that's what's fueling my guilt.

As for saying someone else's name. That's obviously not something I've done before. Although since Stevie left, I haven't said anyone's name at all… not even hers. I used to say it all the time, when we were together, but she belongs with someone else now, and when I jerk off, which isn't a very common occurrence, I don't make much noise at all.

Not like just now, when I erupted into a mass of need and longing.

It's not as though I'm worried about betraying Stevie, or the memory of what we had together. That was over long ago. It was over the moment she left. So is it that I feel guilty for dreaming about Macy in particular… for saying her name, rather than anyone else's?

Or is it the simply fact that the orgasm I've just had was the best of my entire life… and I feel bad that Stevie had nothing to do with it? Not even as a memory.

I sit up, trying to make sense of it, but my head spins, and I can't think straight. It's getting light, and although I could stay here for a while longer, I can't see the point.

Coffee and toast is about all I can manage, and even that's a struggle. My shower woke me up a little, but my head is fuzzy and my body is still recovering from that incredible orgasm. Even now, I've got a tingle in my spine, and my cock is hard… although I'm ignoring it.

That's because I'm trying to think about what I was supposed to remember.

It was about Tanner… and his wedding night.

"Oh, yes," I mutter out loud, pushing away my half eaten toast and topping up my coffee. I was gonna work something out. The problem is, I'm not sure what. They seem fairly set on their plan, but it sounds like the worst idea for a wedding night I've ever heard of. As if having Nash around wasn't bad enough, they're gonna have Sylvia and her sister there, too. I have to be able to think of something…

I clear away my plate, throwing the toast in the trash, and then I remember something else. It's nothing to do with Tanner, or his wedding night. It's about Macy leaving at the end of her shift, and me turning down her offer of help with clearing up. I needed a drink. Desperately. That was why I declined. It's also why I poured myself a vodka… and then another, and another, and eventually came up here to bed… and completely forgot about clearing up downstairs.

"Shit," I murmur, shaking my head, which seems to make my stomach churn, and I grab my coffee cup from the table and carry it down into the bar, switching on the lights and letting out a groan. The place is a tip.

If only I'd accepted Macy's offer, I wouldn't have to face all this now, would I? But then I wouldn't have been able to push on through to oblivion. I wouldn't have found it so easy to fall asleep, and to dream of her.

That thought makes my cock harden… again. But I make my way over to the bar, adding a slug of bourbon to my lukewarm coffee and swallowing it down.

Somehow, everything seems a little more focused now, and I look around, deciding to clear the tables before I do anything else.

It was Stevie's decision that we should only serve food at lunchtimes.

"If we set ourselves up in direct competition with the hotel, we won't be very popular," she reasoned.

"Does that mean we can't serve food at all?" I said, shaking my head. "Because if that's the case, we're gonna seriously limit our income."

She walked over to me then, holding a paintbrush in her hand, and she smiled. "That's not what I'm saying," she said. "I'm just suggesting we restrict it to lunchtime, and that we stick to things like burgers, sandwiches, salads, and soups. We need to keep it simple, otherwise we're gonna have to employ too many people."

Employing people had worried me the most… or rather, the cost of it, and I heard every word she said. I'm relieved I listened now, because there's a French restaurant that's opened up on Main Street, and although we serve very different food, there are only so many mouths to feed… especially during the winter months. This way, we all get a bite out of the cake, and everyone's happy.

That said, I'm not sure my employees are ever that happy. They used to be when Stevie was here. I don't think it's her absence that's making them miserable, though. It's me. Tanner's right about that.

Still, Maggie should be happier today, knowing she won't have to cover any more evening shifts, and I check my watch, surprised to find she and Vanessa will be here any minute. I haven't filled my glass yet, and I set about doing it, only replacing the vodka bottle when they come in through the front door. Karl and Ned use the kitchen door at the back, and Karl has a key of his own, which he uses to lock up back there after the lunchtime shift. After that, he goes on to his second job, which is at a diner in Willmont Vale. Ned doesn't have a second job anymore. He used to, at a bar in Concord, but he's officially retired now, and just comes in here for something to do. They're probably already here, working quietly in the background, but they rarely come out to the front of the bar… because they're happier shut away back there, it seems.

"I've got some good news," I say to Maggie as she and Vanessa start toward the back of the bar, without even saying a word.

"Oh?" They both stop and Maggie focuses her attention on me.

"I've employed Macy." That's the first time I've said her name since I cried it out loud this morning, while coming all over my chest. It sounds a little weird, but I ignore that and focus on the two women in front of me. Having already removed their coats, they're both wearing black pants and white blouses, and while Maggie is stick-thin with slightly dry-looking blonde hair, Vanessa has a more rounded figure, and is a very unnatural redhead.

"I take it last night went okay?" Maggie says, trying not to look too relieved.

"It went really well. Macy's starting at four today." Her name doesn't sound so weird this time, and I'm not sure whether to feel relieved by that… or disappointed.

"So you'll be able to get back to grabbing something to eat every day, instead of just when I'm here," she says, smiling.

"I will." She turns away, but I call her back. "Thanks for stepping in. I appreciate it."

She seems surprised by my gratitude, and I wonder when I last thanked any of them… for anything.

I'm absolved from beating myself up about it by the door opening, and Levi stepping inside.

"It's even colder today than it was yesterday," he says, rubbing his hands together as he walks over to the bar.

He never seems to mind if he's the only person here, or that I'm not the most talkative guy in the world, and he sits up, pulling off his jacket, to reveal his dark blue coveralls. As the owner of the auto-shop, this is basically his uniform, and I can't remember the last time I saw him wearing anything else.

"What can I get you?" I ask, although I'm fairly sure I already know the answer. If it was summer, he'd have a roast beef sandwich, but it's winter…

"A steaming hot bowl of clam chowder," he says, in a shock to absolutely no-one.

Levi is so predictable, I half expect Karl will already have his lunch prepared, and I nod my head, entering his order onto the system, which will appear on the computer screen in the kitchen. Back when Stevie and I first started this place, everything was done on paper, and there was a lot of running backwards and forwards, but I've updated things since she left and I've had to manage by myself… necessity being the mother of invention.

I pour Levi's coffee, because he never drinks alcohol at lunchtimes, and take it back to him.

"Have you been over to Willmont Vale this morning?" I ask, my question bringing an unusual frown to his face. Unlike me, Levi is normally a happy-go-lucky kind of guy, but it seems I've confused him. I've kinda confounded myself, too. It's an odd experience to remember anything that's been said to me from one day to the next, but I remember this… and I remember the look on Macy's face when I asked if she'd be able to get home okay. It was one of my more stupid questions, considering I could barely think straight, let alone drive a car, but now I come to think about it, there was something in her eyes… something knowing, and maybe even understanding. Like she'd seen right through me.

"How did you know I was going there?" he says, breaking into my unwelcome thoughts and sipping at his coffee.

"Because I know you had to see to Bernice Wilkes's car," I say, explaining myself.

He shakes his head. "This place and its gossips."

"It's got nothing to do with the gossips for once. Bernie's niece is working for me now. She was here last night when Bernice called to say her car had broken down."

"Ah, I see. That makes sense." He puts down his cup again. "I had to tow the car back and drop Bernie off at home."

"Is the car that bad?" I ask.

"No. But I need to order the parts. Hopefully, they won't take more than a couple of days, though, so it could be worse."

That depends on your perspective. For me to be without my car for a few days wouldn't be an issue. I rarely use it. But for Bernice, living so far outside of town? I imagine it'll be a nightmare. I'm also not sure what it's gonna mean for Macy, either. Will she be able to get to work?

I guess only time will tell…

Our lunchtime has actually been busier than I expected, but Maggie and Vanessa are long gone by the time Macy arrives.

When she does, closing the door behind her to shut out the wintry wind, I can't help staring at her as she takes off her coat and unwraps her scarf, remembering my dream and the way I came so hard. Although I guess I wasn't actually dreaming by the time I came, was I? I was wide awake, and fully aware of what I was doing. I recall the guilt that followed, but am surprised when it no longer flares, as she turns around and I feel my eyes rake over her, taking in her pale pink blouse and skin-tight jeans. It's impossible for me not to wonder how accurate my dream might have been… whether Macy might really look that good, and if she might be as tight around my cock as she was in my imagination.

I'm hard just thinking about it, and while I expect that to bring the guilt rushing back in, it doesn't… and that's more surprising than anything.

"Is everything okay?" she asks, walking straight up to me, her eyes bright and her cheeks that delicate pink, caused by the wind, no doubt.

"Everything's fine," I say, guessing that she's probably wondering why I've been staring. "I heard about your aunt's car, so I wasn't sure you'd make it."

"I wasn't relying on my aunt's car," she says, tilting her head to one side. "I walked… just like yesterday." She looks around at the empty tables. "I hope it hasn't been this quiet all day," she says.

"Not at all. We've had a busy lunchtime."

"That's good."

It's good for business, that's for sure, and I step back, although I regret the action, recalling my hard-on, and quickly move forward again, using the bar as a shield.

"Are you gonna be okay if I go upstairs for an hour?" I ask. I warned her about this, but it's her first shift, and I guess she might be worried about being left on her own.

"Of course," she says, surprising me, her smile lighting up her face. "I'll be fine. It's not like I'm gonna be rushed off my feet."

I glance around. "No. It's probably a good thing you've started in the winter. Once the weather warms up a bit, we don't have any quiet times at all… but by the time that happens, you'll be more used to things."

Assuming you're still here .

"I hope so," she says. "If I'm not used to it by then, I'm doing it wrong."

It sounds like she's intending to stay, and again, I can't help feeling relieved by that thought. It seems odd that I should be so comforted by her presence… and by the prospect of it continuing, but I guess that's because I need the help, and because she's good at her job.

That'll be it.

I turn to go, striding toward the back of the bar, but before I've gone more than a few paces, she calls me back and I turn, pulling down my shirt so she can't see the bulge in the front of my jeans.

"Yes?" I say.

"What did you do before?" she asks, stepping closer.

"Before what?"

"Before I started working here? What did you do about eating? That's what you're gonna do now, isn't it?"

"Yeah, it is. And in answer to your question, Maggie worked four evenings a week, so she used to cover while I went upstairs for a while."

"And the other three evenings?" she asks.

"Karl used to fix me a sandwich, and I'd eat it when things were quiet."

"That doesn't sound very healthy," she says. "You need a break."

"So do you."

She tips her head again, although it's in the other direction this time, and a smile touches at her lips, my imagination going into overdrive, which makes my cock hurt. "I've only just got here," she whispers.

I struggle to concentrate, so I can answer her. "Even so, Karl's fixed you a salad, which is in the fridge out back. When I get down, you can take a break, if that's okay with you. I know it means eating really early, but…"

"Them's the breaks," she says, grinning.

"They are, I'm afraid."

She stares up at me and then whispers, "Thank you," and although I've got no reason to deserve her gratitude, I nod my head and turn away, striding to the back of the bar.

Upstairs, I find a pizza in the deep freeze and put it in the oven. It's not ideal, and it's certainly not healthy, but I wasn't expecting to do this today. Besides, as far as I'm concerned, it's the liquid element of my meal that's more important. I was sensible enough to pour away the remains of my drink before Macy arrived, just in case she discovered the true contents of my glass. It seemed like a wise move, and I can fix another one when I get back down there, while she's having her break.

Even so, I have a half bottle of vodka stashed in the kitchen cabinet, and I pour myself a glass and sit on the couch, waiting for my pizza to cook. Macy seemed confident she could manage, but I can't help worrying… or, to be more precise, I can't help thinking about her, and how sexy she looked when she walked through the door. That's probably because of my dream, and as I sip my drink, moments of it flash before my eyes… her firm breasts, her hardened nipples, her shaved pussy, and how much I want to taste it. And then I remember her lips, and how I pictured them wrapped around my dick when she smiled. God… what a thought.

My cock is bone hard, and I put down my glass, so I can focus, and stroke myself through my jeans. Twice in one day is unheard of for me since Stevie left. In fact, it was unheard of for about the last five years of our marriage… long before she met Peony's ex. That wasn't a conscious decision. It wasn't an indication that we were unhappy, either. It was just that life had a habit of getting in the way… life and exhaustion. We still had our mornings, and we treasured them… and every so often, regardless of how tired we were, one or other of us would start something after work, and somehow I'd see it to fruition.

This feels different, though. Different to anything I've ever felt before. My cock feels harder. My need feels greater. I can't explain why that is… and I don't think I want to try.