Flower Girl Ch. 06

"Now pinch it hard, Kitten. Pinch your nipple and squeeze your tit with your palm at the same time." William could hear her breath becoming rapid.

"Okay," she panted, "William? I'm feeling kind of shy. And I don't want anyone to hear me."

"It's okay Kitten, you don't need to talk, just listen and put the phone next to you on the pillow. You are going to need both hands."

"Okay," Tracy giggled, "God, I wish you were here, William."

"Mmmm, me too. Will you touch yourself for me? Through your panties? Lightly?"

"Yes. Will you?"

"I already am. Are you tickling your lips for me? Lightly through your panties?"

"Mmm hmmm."

"Good. Don't go under your panties just yet. Just tickle yourself softly through the fabric."

Her breath was becoming louder. "Now, slide a finger under the side of your panties." He heard her breath change again. He was obsessed with her breath because it was so revealing, he could hear the changes come over her. "Don't insert a finger just yet, just lightly stroke your lips for me."

"Kay."

"You're wet, aren't you Kitten?"

"Mmm hmmm, very," her voice had become sultry again.

"Good, now part you lips and dip a finger inside. I want to lick you so bad. Will you taste yourself for me?"

"What?" She whispered, although she heard just fine.

"Lick your finger, Kitten, tell me how you taste."

"Really?"

"Yes."

He could hear her inhale deeply, and then heard her mouth squeak ever so slightly.

"Mmmm, good girl. How does my Kitten taste?"

"Surprising. Kind of sweet, kind of salty."

"Mmmm, yum, " William let out a very low laugh. "Is your hand back to your pussy?"

"It is," Tracy whispered.

"And one on your tit?"

"Yes."

"Are you rubbing your clit with the palm of your hand?"

"How did you know?"

"I know what you like."

Tracy giggled and asked, "Are you stroking your cock in long slow strokes?"

William laughed, "You know me too."

Her breathing changed again and William encouraged her, "You don't have to say anything, just keep touching yourself like that." William listened to her breath as he stroked himself and imagined what she must look like. "Kitten...you are going to cum for me. Keep doing what you are doing, just imagine I am watching you." Tracy didn't speak, but she didn't need to. She did imagine William right there, watching her, stroking his cock as she rubbed herself and squeezed her tit. William whispered encouragement into the phone, intermittently, softly, while he stroked his cock and just listened to her ragged breath, hearing every fluctuation of her breath. He heard her getting close, then the soft sound of her orgasm, ever so subtle, the flutter of her breath. She didn't need to cry out or tell him and it was so sexy he allowed himself to cum too. He let out a low groan as he ejaculated, then grabbed a towel he had placed nearby to wipe the cum off of his chest.

Tracy breathed heavily in the phone for a few seconds, and then giggled and whispered, "Oh my god, William did you just cum?"

"Mmmmm hmmmm."

"I did too!" She sounded surprised at herself.

"I know."

"How? I thought I was quiet."

"You were, but when you cum, your breath does this little flutter thing, like a leaf falling. It is very sexy."

"Really?" Tracy was stunned, "You can tell just by my breathing?"

"Of course. I have made it a point to study your orgasms."

"Wow. I can't believe you ...well..." Tracy said coyly, "You came too."

"Yes. I wasn't concerned about being quiet since I am home alone. I hope you don't mind, but I didn't plan to hold you to the two-to-one ratio for phone sex."

Tracy laughed, "I can't believe you can tell just by my breath. I thought I was so quiet you wouldn't even know. That was so hot, but I don't think it helped me stop missing you at all! In fact, I think I miss you even more now."

"Post-coitus cuddling is difficult over the phone. I would be kissing you right now, looking at your pretty flushed face."

"Aww," Tracy whispered, "That was the first time you called me pretty."

"No," William said in disbelief, "Really?"

"Well. I think beautiful and gorgeous, but there is something very sweet about being called pretty."

"Well you are. You are very pretty. Some girls can be called sexy, but not pretty. You are definitely both."

"Well you are handsome and sexy," She whispered back.

William laughed and said, "I am glad that you think so."

"I am surprised by how much I miss you."

"Me too."

"I am going to sleep now."

William laughed, "Me too, Kitten. Goodnight. I will talk to you tomorrow."

"Goodnight William."

* * * * * *

Four generations of the Wilcox family sat around the table enjoying brunch. Tracy's mother, Marlene, asked about Petals and Beverly just listened and smiled with pride as Tracy spoke about some of her regular customers. Years prior, Marlene had doubted her daughter's ability to buckle down and run a serious business, but Beverly believed in her and was proud to be proven right. They were a unique bunch, both Marlene and her husband were professors at the university, and Beth and her husband were both attorneys, but Beth stopped working a few months into her pregnancy. "And now Nana and I are business partners, so we are all pairs in a way."

"And what did you say this William guy does?" Her stepdad Bill asked, even though Tracy was sure she had told him.

"A librarian."

"They let guys become librarians?" Mark, Beth's husband snickered and exchanged glances with Bill.

Beverly spoke up, "When you meet William, you'll have no desire to make a joke at his expense. He's a remarkable young man."

"Is that so? " Bill asked. "Well he has a job and is not in a band. Wait, Tracy he isn't in a band, is he?" Tracy shook her head and Bill went on, "I understand they have a salary similar to that of a teacher, which is okay in Albany, but certainly not in Manhattan."

"William does just fine," Beverly intervened again. "And Tracy has only known him a very short time. Please allow her to revel in the joy of a new romance, which we all have experienced ourselves."

"Oh yeah, romance. I remember that," Beth remarked dryly, as she took the fussy baby from Tracy's lap. Tracy smiled to herself. Her family could tease her all they wanted, they couldn't take away from the happiness she was feeling this morning.

She spent the rest of the day playing with her nephew, walking with her mom, playing tennis with her stepdad and losing graciously, then cooking with Beth, all between intermittent text messages to and from William. Beth tried to get her to open a video chat so she could meet William, but he was gone for a while, then they got busy again. After a wonderful dinner cooked by the twins, Beverly and Tracy hugged everyone goodbye and Mark drove them to the train station.

Back on the train, Nana asked Tracy what she was reading. "Oh, these are stories from my writing group. I need to critique them and bring them on Tuesday."

"Anything impressive?"

"Well, there is this weird old guy who says he writes 'steam punk', which I've learned to him means science fiction infused with a lot of mechanical gadgets. It is written well, as far as I can tell, but just not my thing. Then there is this teacher who wrote his memoir. He taught special education to emotionally disturbed teenagers, so it is interesting, but this is just part of a very long story and I don't really understand everything and not sure I am interested enough to go back to the beginning. But this last one is a written for teen-girls and it is an adventure story about this girl who lives in the Appalachian Mountains and she has to run through the hills for days to get the doctor because her dad is sick and her mom is pregnant. It's really good! I am very curious to meet the person who wrote this."

"Will you be submitting your own writing?"

"Probably not. I mean, I am lucky to have this group and maybe I will get comfortable enough with a few of them, but I'm not sure. The truth is I've been feeling kind of lonely about it. I have done all this writing and I want to share it, but it isn't for everyone... I don't know, Nana. I wouldn't want Mom or Bill to read it. Or even Mark for that matter."

"Well Tracy, people who are able to write or talk openly about sex are unusual. It's just not the norm. A huge portion of the population is hyper-repressed by the shame-based approach to sexuality that prevails during our socialization as children. When someone reads your work and recoils from the beauty of sex, just remember that it's not a black mark on you or on them - it's a failing of our civilization as a whole, and one we need to seek and offer understanding about as best we can."

Tracy sat quietly thinking about what she just heard, then spontaneously said, "I love you, Nana," and rested her head on her Nana's shoulder even though she had to slump way down in her seat to do so. Tracy sighed, and asked what she was reading.

"Gilead. William recommended it."

"Really? Do you like it?"

"Yes I do, and this is one of the reasons I find William so insightful. When I told him how I loved The Life of Pi, he understood that it is a very spiritual book."

"Mom loved it for the Biology."

"Yes, he probably would have steered her towards Barbara Kingsolver, me to Marilynne Robinson. William connects books on a deep level; he is a very bright and intuitive young man, Tracy."

"He is amazing," Tracy smiled.

"And you are an amazing young woman, don't forget that! You write beautifully and create art with flowers. After a few more Mrs. Hillson's, you are going to need to hire more help."

"Ugh, I get overwhelmed about that sometimes Nana. You know I want to stay small so that I can have more control. I mean, Linda and Rachel are great, but they both have other careers in mind."

"Perhaps you should put an advertisement in the school paper at the Pratt Institute. Do you know you could get an intern and not even have to pay a salary? Someone with artistic ability."

"Well I don't mind paying, but that would give me a chance to feel them out before putting them on the payroll."

"And I don't want to sound sexist, but you work very well with men."

Tracy laughed, because she was thinking the same thing. For some reason, it was easy for her to give direction to men. With the females, she always worried about sounding bossy and worried that they might resent her.

They were close to their stop and Tracy checked her phone before gathering up her belongings. "Oh my gosh, William says he is at the station! To escort us home safely!"

Beverly was not as surprised as Tracy and she smiled knowingly. "He missed you."

* * * * *

The only surprise about Andy's sentencing hearing was Vera's presence in the court room. His appointed defense attorney told him to what to expect when he pled guilty, and there was no reason to go to trial. They had all the evidence they needed to convict him of forgery, a felony due to the amount of money involved. Joe's cooperation to save his own hide gave them every bit of information they needed. His lawyer was planning to use his lack of criminal history to make him sound like another victim of the economy and hope that the judge would have mercy.

Andy saw Vera sitting in the stands and she did a gentle wave of her hand. She was wearing professional clothing, not her profession, but that of an office worker. He was stunned to see her and the physical reaction and urge to run to her was overwhelming. He thought about what this meant when he should have been listening to the proceedings. Could it be that Vera had feelings for him too? Maybe she thought of him as more than just her stable customer and a good friend. Andy grinned at the thought and his lawyer elbowed him and told him not to smile.

Afterward, the lawyer explained the sentencing of one year and one day. It was a gracious sentence because anything over one year meant he could do half time with good behavior. Six months. Could he survive six months in jail and make it back to Vera's arms? Would she want anything to do with a convicted felon who most certainly will have lost everything and have no prospects for future employment with a criminal record?. "You seem pretty pleased with your sentence," his lawyer said, misreading the reason for Andy's smile. Vera had come. She cared what happened to him.

Tracy looked up from her manuscript when the group officially started and listened to the critique of Jasper's 'steam punk' piece. She was slightly intimidated by all the thoughtful feedback he was receiving and uncertain that she could add anything to what was already said, but when it was her turn, she turned to her notes and made a few comments about word choice and asked a few questions and complimented his writing. He gave a goofy grin that went ear-to-ear as he collected the stack of papers from around the room.

Tracy was curious to hear what the group thought of the story about the teenager running through the mountains. The author was a young woman, fair with long wavy auburn hair that was in a loose braid over her shoulder. Even though it was a short story, many in the group were familiar with the woman's writing because it was part of a series and she had apparently been in the group a long time. The woman's name was Amy and she listened to the critiques graciously, until one man began to question some of the technical aspects of the story. He said it is impossible for a young teen to run through the mountains as she described, but one of the other men said, "It's fiction - intended to be inspirational!"

"Yeah, but no young girl can run up and down mountains like she describes," the man argued, although he looked like he couldn't run ten yards himself. Amy turned her head towards Tracy and rolled her eyes. Tracy got the non-verbal message that Amy disagreed with the critique, but wouldn't bother to argue. The man went on about how some of the stuff couldn't happen and there was no way a girl could run that far and find her way along unmarked trails and Amy continued to bite her lip. The next guy was the Indian man, Narveen, who said, rather loudly, "Amy, aren't you a runner yourself?"

"I am," Amy smiled back at him.

"And how old were you when you started running competitively?"

"Middle School, cross country track."

"And have you ever run long distances in the mountains?"

"Of course, Naveen, you know that I have." Amy almost laughed.

"Your story is brilliant! Do not change a thing." He handed her a stack of papers, but he was glaring at the other man.

It was Tracy's turn to go next and she cleared her throat and began, "Well, I don't know anything about running in the mountains, but I feel like I do now. Your descriptions are really good. I could feel the cold air, smell the forest, shoot, I think I even got winded reading it! And then when you described what it was like running downhill, it made me feel like running."

Tracy noticed Amy was smiling at her. "I only wish her mom spoke to her when she left the house," she added. "Unless it was your intention to portray a very strained relationship?"

"No," Amy said, "I actually just wanted the mom to seem overwhelmed with being pregnant and having a sick husband."

"Well, that makes sense. But maybe she could at least go to the porch and holler after her to be careful or something? I got the sense that she didn't love her, but I didn't know if that is what you were going for."

Amy nodded thoughtfully, and then thanked her. The next woman said the same thing Tracy did, that she wanted to know how the mom was reacting. She also questioned if the vocabulary might be too advanced for the age group, but Amy gently, almost imperceptibly shook her head "No."

Before the meeting came to a close, three more people volunteered to be critiqued for the next meeting, but Tracy did not. When they stood to leave, Amy approached Tracy, "Hey, thanks for what you said about my descriptions. I hope I really do inspire some young girls to start running!"

Tracy shook her hand and introduced herself. She learned that Amy taught English at a Middle School in Brooklyn. She didn't seem like a native New Yorker, and sure enough she was from South Carolina, although she had no discernable accent. Tracy thought she was very pretty in a natural, sporty type of way. They talked for a while and were the last ones to leave. They exited the room together and were still talking when Tracy saw William waiting politely in the distance. She waved him over and introduced Amy to William and enthusiastically told him about Amy's writing.

William was his usual charming self, and after she left he asked Tracy what she thought of Amy. "She was really cool. I think it is really admirable that she is trying to do something with her writing like that, writing a series with female heroines, but realistic...attainable."

"Do you mean the women don't wield a bow and arrow and shoot with deadly accuracy?"

Tracy laughed and leaned in and kissed William right there in the Library and immediately wondered if she should not have kissed him at work, but he was smiling at her and she hadn't thought about it ahead of time, it just came naturally. "That was an organic kiss. Sorry for the PDA."

"Never ever apologize for kissing me," William laughed and offered her his elbow. "You know what? I'll bet my good friend John would be attracted to Amy. Can you find out if she is available?"

"Sure. I already have her email from the group and she said she'd love to hang out sometime."

"Yes, find out what you can. John has a hard time meeting women who are not attracted to his bank account, although I fault him for bringing that on himself."

"Oh, she doesn't come across that way at all, but is he athletic? She seems to be very serious about running."

"He is a cyclist, among other things."

"I'll feel her out. I want to get to know her anyway."

They had reached William's favorite Vietnamese restaurant, and went inside.

* * * * *

Andy walked into the visiting area and saw Vera waiting for him at a desk across the glass. He wasn't used to seeing her dressed conservatively, but was glad she wasn't drawing too much attention to herself. He liked to keep a low profile among the other inmates. He sat down and thanked her for coming to see him, then he had to endure ten full minutes of her telling him off about how stupid he was and why did he do it and why didn't he tell her how bad his money problems were. "Vera, we don't have much time. I need to ask you a favor."

And that is when he asked if she would clean out his apartment, told her where the key was hidden, and told her where she could find something for herself, for doing this favor for him. All she needed to do was put his belongings in a storage unit and use his money to pay for six months.

"You sure you'll get out in six months?"

"I am the model inmate," he answered. "I'm lucky they put me in a cell with another accountant. The guy reads all day long and barely speaks. But Vera, I need you to put a little money on the books for another inmate, not for me. A guy named Richard Hoymee. He's looking out for me in here. Can you do that for me Vera? Just forty bucks a month out of that money."

"Of course, Andy. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, I've asked too much as it is. I am so thankful you came to see me, Vera. I didn't expect it. I didn't expect to ever see you again."

Vera smiled at him and leaned in closer to the glass, giving him an eyeful of cleavage. "I've missed you Andy. More than I expected to."