Savory? Ch. 01

Clancy Park was like a second home to Dakota Jennings. Only a short bike ride from her childhood home, Dakota had been playing, picnicking, and doing, um, other things in that park as long as she could remember. It was more than just a few acres of green grass and trees, with a small winding creek that wove through it -- it was a bright spot in a dull brown city of strip malls and convenient stores. It was a breath of fresh air away from the car exhaust. It was a part of the Earth that belonged to everyone, and a reminder that not was all lost.

After Dakota's parents lost their lives, just after her fourteenth birthday, Clancy Park became something else for her, too. The park was a place to remember the good times. Sometimes the girl would climb to the top of the tallest oak when she was having troubles. She'd close her eyes, breath in the fresh green scent of the park, and imagine that her mother was there. She could almost hear her mother's words of wisdom, which usually sounded something like, "follow your heart, Dakota."

By the time Dakota turned twenty, she was wise and tough beyond her years. She felt she could handle almost anything. But when she heard that Clancy Park was being "developed" -- into a high-priced gated community -- she felt the pain as if she were losing a loved one.

But what could she do? She still lived in that same house, with her brother who'd been just old enough to gain custody after the accident. As they struggled with the pain of their parents' death, they also struggled to make ends meet, and manage a household. It was with grim acceptance that Dakota took the news of her favorite place on Earth.

* * * * * * * * *

It was Dakota's best (and only) friend Mollie who got her headed started in a good direction on the park thing. They were moping around her attic-bedroom sanctuary and she bemoaned the loss of the park.

"Why don't you do something about it, Dakota?" Mollie was sucking on a Twizzler and didn't, frankly, seem to even take her own suggestion too seriously. But Dakota thought about it for a minute.

"Like what?" she asked.

Mollie shrugged. "You know, petitions or something. Start a fund raiser." She had known Mollie since they were five, and they'd had their share of differences over the years. But she was the only one of her friends that stuck by her after the accident. Everyone else treated Dakota as if she had a catching disease, but Mollie was as loyal as they got. So when she got hooked on the idea of even having an idea, of trying to save the park, Mollie was there for her.

Admittedly, the first month was rather lackluster. They began not knowing anything about the proposed development, the schedule of demolition, the city rules. They got dozens of people to sign their petition, but when they presented it to the correct city department (it took three tries), they were told that the document was not legal. And that we'd need another three hundred signatures. The "Save Clancy Park" coin jar Dakota had placed at the co-op had barely amassed enough to cover the cost of photocopies.

Mollie was loosing interest but Dakota couldn't quite let it go. They had a serious planning session at which they decided they were seriously lacking information, and got to investigating.

The evil villain in the scheme was Eagle Brook Developers, a money-hungry firm on the rise. Their strategy was to swoop up as much land as they could, tear everything down and build perfectly ugly, huge monster homes that all looked alike and had regulations on the kind of mailbox you could put up.

The plans that Eagle Brook had for Clancy Park involved a gated golf course community. The city officials were as eager to see this happen as Eagle Brook -- it would mean driving out the poorest residents and replacing them with wealthy ones. The loss of green space was excused because, in some poor slop's words, "the golf course will provide the needed greenery". Sure, if you could call a golf course natural. And open it to the public.

To make matters worse, Eagle Brook used the worst construction methods possible. They built cheap, unsustainable houses out of toxic, non-renewable material that were made to look fancy but would require major work in ten or twenty years time. They gave no thought to landscaping, they'd bulldoze everything and replace ten mature trees with one baby. They wasted water and threw away as many construction materials as they used -- and they did it all with a smile and an obscene price tag.

The girls followed the story in the papers and, just as winter was threatening to thaw, they got their break. All the homeowners adjacent to the park had sold their land to Eagle Brook. All except one, a Mr and Mrs Kinney, who had raised their children in that house, and were "still considering" Eagle Brook's offer. The newspaper reported that, "however, Mr Kinney has recently been laid off and Eagle Brook expects their offer to be too generous to refuse."

So Dakota went to meet the Kinney's, and when they learned of her crusade to save the park, they couldn't be more delighted. Mrs. Kinney smiled at her through her little wire-framed glasses, "I know, dear, it seems such a shame. I'm all for neighborhood improvement, but this in not what I meant."

"So you're not going to sell?" she asked with unrestrained hope in her voice.

The Kinney's looked at each other, then back at Dakota. "I'm afraid we can't afford to keep the house anymore. We had plans of putting it on the market this spring, but please don't mention that to anyone."

"Of course not," she said, dejected. But her twenty year-old wisdom told her not to give up. "Could you guys please just stall them as long as you can?"

"We have everyone intention of it," Mrs Kinney winked.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Five thousand dollars. I need five thousand dollars. I need it in like, two weeks." Dakota was talking to her brother Bobby in the kitchen in short, rapid fire. He stopped in his sandwich fixing and starred dumbly at her.

"That's not all you need, Dakota." Riley was sprawled out on the sofa in the family room, paging lazily through a music magazine.

As was often appropriate, she ignored him and kept focus on her brother.

"And you think I have that?" Bobby asked. Of course she knew he didn't. It was a silly demand, but it gave her about as good a chance as any to procure the desired result. "What do you need it for, anyway?"

Bobby already knew about his sister's crusade to save the park, but he didn't know of her latest plan -- to purchase the Kinney's house from them, and then refuse to sell it to Eagle Brook. The Kinney's house was centrally located in the development plans, and would, at least, put a serious kink in the works. The five thousand was the minimum in down payment that the Kinney's could accept -- and that was greatly reduced because of their desire to stop Eagle Brook.

"Dakota, I think it's awesome that you want to do this, but you're crazy. I bet we don't have twenty dollars between us," he paused, waiting for her to deny it. Silence.

As much as she wanted to, she couldn't argue with Bobby. They'd had their spats when we were younger, but after the accident he'd become someone else. A boy, way too young, charged with the task of coping with the grief of loss while trying to raise and consul a little sister. Sure, sometimes he forgot to keep bread, or toilet paper, in the house. But he tried, and Dakota saw that. He took a job as a salesman at an electronic store, which he hated, so he could make mortgage payments. He did the best he could.

Dakota had always felt that Bobby had it worse than her. Bobby had fought with their father not twenty minutes before he drove off with their mother, in a rage. Nothing you could say would keep Bobby from blaming himself. So Dakota was as protective of Bobby as he was of her.

The same warm sentiments she did not share for Bobby's best friend Riley. Riley moved in not even a month after the crash, and he was a royal pain in the butt. It was Riley that pushed Bobby into his music, and in turn, the four bands that practiced regularly in the basement. This diversion was good for Bobby, but all he did for Dakota was keep her from her brother when she needed him most. So when, as she walked past dejectedly, Riley made some comment about selling her eggs -- except that no one would want a goblin baby-- to earn the cash, she did the only right thing. She kicked him in the shin.

* * * * * * * * * *

Dakota had made it pretty clear in the house early on -- if you disturbed her when she was in her bedroom, you'd better have a good reason. The attic was the one place on earth that was for her and her alone. She had hung a hundred tiny white bulbs from the sloped ceiling and pushed her bed under the dormer windows. She had a corner for my writing and drawing table, a couch for reading and a doorway that lead out to the flat section of roof above the garage. Even the noisy bands in the basement could not touch her up there.

When there was a knock on her door late Sunday evening, disturbing her from a sketch she was engrossed in, she wasn't pleased. She was even less pleased to see Riley on the other side of the door.

"Hey Dakota," he said, in an uncharacteristically normal greeting.

"What'cha want, Riley?" Her arms were crossed and she blocked the doorway with her body.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

She shook herself. A conversation? With Riley? "I was under the impression that you only grunted and cackled," Dakota said.

Riley's mouth turned up in a bemused grin, just enough to bring out his boyish dimples. She quickly looked away. Everything else about Riley's features were dark and dangerous; the cuteness of his dimples killed her. It killed her even more that she liked seeing them.

"Actually, I can also warble," Riley said with the same grin. "Please? It won't take long."

She heard Bobby's voice in her head. The one that pleaded with her to try and get along with Riley better. She stepped aside to let him in. He took a seat in the middle of the couch, forcing her to sit next to him. She wedged herself up against the armrest.

"So?" She asked.

"I have an idea of how you can buy that house."

She groaned inwardly, knowing it couldn't be good. Before she could speak, Riley continued. "You won't like it. In fact, I'm going to sound like an ass just bringing it up."

She shrugged. "Nothing I'm not already used to," she said.

Riley looked almost saddened by that. But he brushed it off and continued. "Do you remember Jackson, tall guy, tattoos?"

"Let me guess -- he's a musician? Drinks beer?" Dakota taunted. "You'll have to be more specific."

"It doesn't matter, I guess, other than that this is his idea and I wouldn't even bring it up if I didn't know...your situation. With wanting to save the park and all." Riley was picking at his fingernails and looked uncomfortable.

"Just spit it out."

"Jackson produces...adult films. And he wants you to star in one. With me." Riley looked her straight in the eye when he said this, and, though she searched, she could not find the joke in his eyes.

"No." She said without having to think of it. "Are you crazy?"

"Well maybe, but think of it, Dakota. You can earn more than you need in a short day's work, and we would never have to say another word about it." he said.

"I'm not going to -- no." She couldn't even speak properly his suggestion had her so flustered. The truth of it was that she'd had almost no experience with men, just some light make-out sessions in the park. But Dakota was dying to learn, to taste, to feel. She was always hearing how often guys her age thought of sex, and wondered if they could think of it more than she did. Sometimes, it didn't seem possible.

"Why not?" Riley pressed, and leaned a little closer.

Her cheeks burned and she felt a warmth in her core. "I -- I don't have to explain that to you."

"You know what I think?" Riley asked, and proceeded to answer his own question. "I think you're actually excited right now about this idea, but you're scared to admit it."

"No...no way!" She protested as much as she could, tongue-tied.

"I can see it in your eyes, Kota," Riley said, and his dimples appeared. Fuck. "You're wet, aren't you?" He asked, his voice dropping.

Her return stare was blank, her mouth mute. But she was sure the rising heat of her cheeks gave her away.

Riley leaned in a little closer. "I don't want to force you into anything, Dakota. But you and I both know that this could be not only a good business opportunity, but a lot of fun, too." He stood up and walked towards the door, leaving her speechless. "You know where to find me," he said as he let himself out.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

She masturbated furiously that night. That was not unusual. What was different was that she did something she had forced herself to stop doing many years prior. She masturbated to fantasies of herself. With Riley.

During the daytime, she was successful at avoiding him. Each time her mind wanted to ponder the thought, she steered it into another direction, but the fantasies always came back when her head hit the pillow at night. She was in a master battle with herself when, a full week later, the phone rang.

"Dakota?"

"Yeah. Who is this?"

"Dakota, this is Mr. Kinney. Marilyn and I decided that we're going to sell. We don't have another choice. We'll sign the papers next week. I just wanted to let you know."

She could hear the pain in his voice, the apology. "Wait." She said. "I can get a down payment for you, in a few weeks time."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She knew she had to act fast. But still, Dakota stalled a few days until it was Riley and her in the house, and no one else. She knocked on his door.

He just grinned when he saw her. She stood in the doorway, dumbly, for a long second.

"I presume, since you're not slapping me, I know your answer?"

She looked down. Nodded. She wondered if he could see her shaking.

"You don't have to look so bummed about it," he said, almost pouting.

"This isn't easy for me, jerk," she said.

He paused, kicking away some dirty laundry so she could sit. "Sorry." It sounded like he meant it. "Is it the cameras?" he asked.

"It's the cameras, it's everything." She couldn't bring herself to tell him.

He grinned his dimple-grin. "You might enjoy working for the greater good," he said.

Her face flushed. She couldn't say anything.

Riley could feel her embarrassment. "I'll make sure you enjoy it, okay?" he said, quietly.

They worked out the details, and agreed to keep this business quiet from Bobby, and everyone else in town for that matter. Riley called Jackson, and set a date for the weekend. As Dakota left, she thanked him. It was the nicest exchange they'd had since he spoke to her at the funeral.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It's needless to say she was a mess the rest of the week. She screwed up orders at work, forgot the regulars' names, added sugar to her coffee when she meant to take cream. Mollie, who worked at the co-op with her, knew something was wrong and pestered her to hear details. She could say nothing.

The filming would start Saturday. Friday night Dakota got home from work, expecting a basement full of musicians and therefore her relative privacy. But Riley was the only one home.

"Where's Bobby?" she asked him.

"Seminar in the city this weekend. Looks like we got the place to ourselves," he said with a luscious smile.

She rolled her eyes and made to push past him. He grabbed her arm before she could get by. "Am I really that awful, Dakota?" he asked.

She didn't know how to handle that. Was he setting her up for the butt of a joke? Or was he really concerned over her feelings for him? She gave him the benefit of the doubt. "I'm nervous, okay?" she said, with and edge to her voice.

"What, do you have a big hairy mole on your ass?" he teased, but his grin faded when he saw her reaction.

"I'm a -- I've never...," she halted. "It'll be like taping an opera starring a chick that doesn't know how to sing," she said, and laughed at herself as she said it. Could she get herself in a more ridiculous situation?

His face softened in immediate understanding. "I had no idea," he said. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She shrugged. "It seems like the only choice." Her breath was heavy, her eyes uncertain.

"We could ... practice. Tonight. So you're not so nervous tomorrow," Riley said, his voice devoid of the ironic smirk she would expect.

"I don't need a mercy fuck," she told him, unsure of her own words even as she said them.

"Trust me, darlin', I think I'd enjoy it too." There was the smirk. And the dimples.

But she just shook her head and walked off. It was too weird. It excited her far too much.

* * * * * * * * * *

Too nervous to draw, write or read, she went to be early that night. In a half-sleep state, she thought she heard a knock on the door. She ignored it. A second later, Riley climbed pushed aside the covers and climbed into bed with her.

He moved like a cat, and curled up around her before she could fully wake up. "Sssh," he said. "We don't have to do anything. I just felt like I should be here." He stroked her hair, his whole being urged her to relax in his arms.

It felt so good to be held. Still half-asleep, her guard down, she let her body sink into his. He pulled her in closer and just held her, but instead of falling back asleep, Dakota became more awake. But she could not move.

It was the heat of his breath on her neck, then the light circling of his fingertip on her bare stomach. It was him, pulling her closer, the heat and arousal of his groin pressing into her backside. It was the thrill that fluttered through her body when she realized that she had done that to him.

He kissed her earlobe, suckled on it lightly. In a flash her pussy was hot and wet and there was no doubt anymore. She wanted this. They wanted this.

His mouth trailed down her neck, played with the sensitive area around her collarbone. "Ooh," she breathed quietly. She could feel him smile into her neck. He urged her to turn around, face him. She did, but she couldn't open her eyes.

She didn't have to. His lips found hers without hesitation and she felt what it was like to be really kissed, for the first time. She felt like butter, everything inside of her was melting and warm, vibrating like a hummingbird as his tongue urged her lips opened, invited her to dance, his hands roaming up and down her hips and sides, urging her to be a little more naked. She tentatively brought her hand to his neck, felt the muscles and the veins and the heat of his skin. He encouraged her with a deep, searing kiss, and with what she felt was great bravery, she pulled him just a bit closer.

The heat of their bodies collided, then, the longing so present that Dakota forgot her nerves and gave into the sensation. Suddenly his thin boxers and t-shirt were far too much barrier for her. Like and old pro, she slid her hands down his body, then up again, hooking her thumbs under his t-shirt and dragging it back up. She opened her eyes then to see him grin and whip the shirt off, tossing it aside.

Riley wasted no time. He took hold of her tank top and lifted it over her head as she raised her arms for him. Riley paused to admire her grapefruit-sized breasts and long, distended nipples. He wanted to voice his appreciation, but did not want to break the spell.

Her nipples had always been extremely sensitive; she almost came from the first brush of a fingertip, the ripple of pleasure was so intense. So acute was her reaction that Riley took his time, teased her buds with soft, deliberate strokes that only fueled her further. She was panting and grinding, he urged his thigh between her legs. She tried to rub the heat of her cunt against him, but that rubbing was even more of a tease. She buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his spicy-clean scent.