New Man Pt. 04

"Oh, that's impressive," she murmured and buried her lips against my neck when I squeezed her ass.

I didn't say a word, but guided her against a wall, rocking into her harder and harder but taking my time now and then to grind up against her clit, too. She loved that, twining her legs behind me, twisting her head so she was looking away from my face and resting her cheek against my shoulder.

"If you're mine, you're mine," I murmured. "No other cock touches you but this one."

"Ohhhh," she moaned.

My strokes grew faster and faster. Her big breasts pressed against mine felt so fucking right. A favorite fantasy of mine crept into my head, one I'd only discovered about myself when Tina was pregnant. I thought about Sarah offering up one of those tits to me, letting me suck the sweet milk straight from her as I palmed her pussy. My cock rammed up inside Sarah hard now, each thrust going as deep as I could within her warm, wet center. I was trapped in my mind's eye. Her riding on me, the cream dripping down across her breasts onto my belly, her cupping them, offering them up, my lips rising to meet her nipple.

"Lio.. Lionel... almost... nnngh, keep... fucking..."

Shit, Sarah almost had me. This was not her game to win, though. I refocused, lost the fantasy, but kept up the pace. I was slamming into her now, her whole body bouncing with every thrust. She kicked against my hip and my ass, and her moans went to a soft whine.

"Need it... need you... nnngh, fuck me, fuck, fuck me...."

"Say it, Sarah," I growled into her ear. "Say you're mine. Say this pussy is mine forever."

"Nnngh... nnnngh!" She drew in a lungful of air and held it, her eyes squeezing shut as one of her legs kicked again. Her pussy convulsed around me but I still hadn't dragged out the words I wanted to hear. I glanced around and fuck-walked her to the table, her eyes still closed, her breath errant. I settled her onto its surface and laid her flat, stopping to suck one of her tits into my mouth before I hilted my cock in her again and again and again, fucking her so hard the table creaked.

"Tell me, Sarah!" I snarled. "Tell me this pussy is mine!"

"Y-yours!" she gasped. "Oh fuck, all I want is this cock forever! Fucking come, fucking come in your pussy! Come in your horny slut! I'm fucking yours, okay?"

"Mine," I growled, still hammering into her, still not letting myself crest.

"YOURS! She screamed. "I'll only fuck you! You can take my mouth! My pussy! It's yours, it's yours, it's yoooours!"

Holy shit, she was coming again already. How many times was that? I didn't know and I didn't care. I had what I wanted. I was going to come in her and own that slut forever and ever. I didn't care if she was on the pill or not. I was so close, I...

My phone rang somewhere outside.

I kept going, but the musical jangle tore at the veil of my lust. That one was special That one was Isaac's.

At first I didn't get it. He was probably just checking in, right? Just calling to say hey? Except it was still relatively early in the day. Why would he be calling now?

Sarah was barely coherent, but when I jerked out of her pussy, she scratched at my chest. "No, no, no, come in me, come in my pussy..." she whined.

"That's my son's ringtone," I said.

She blinked, and tried to sit up. I refocused on her, and helped her to a chair.

"I'll be right back," I promised her.

"You have to be close. You need to come or you're going to hurt for days."

She was right, but it was my son. I had to be the one to answer that. There was no one else. I leaned down and kissed her gently before heading for the backyard. By then, the phone had stopped ringing, but I called Isaac back in seconds, and he picked up. Crying.

When we finished talking and I headed back inside. Sarah had slipped on her robe and was sipping a glass of ice water. She caught my look, and asked, "Is everything okay?"

I blinked at her. "No. Isaac was in a fight."

"Oh my gosh. Is he okay? He's not being bullied, or...?"

The last question caught me off-guard. "No, no, he's okay.

"Do you need me to come with you? Just give me a few."

"And thank you, but no, I'd better go take care of this myself." I leaned in and kissed her again, slowly this time, putting a lot of feeling into it and not entirely sure why. Sarah and I had yet to really talk or develop any basis for an emotional connection, and yet that sex had bonded us somehow. I think she won, though I'd never admit it to her. I was as much hers as she was mine. "I desperately don't want this to seem like a pump and dump. Do you want to do dinner sometime?"

She gave me a dazzling smile. "I wouldn't have taken it that way anyways. I believe you still have one more part of me you wanted to make yours." My eyes widened and she stood up to stroke my chest and give me another soft kiss. "But yes. I'd love to. And I'd like to meet Isaac too."

"Great. I'll give you a call when things calm down."

The thing I didn't tell Sarah, and what I couldn't comprehend, what kept looping in my brain over and over and over again, was that my Isaac, my sweet son, had been the one to start the fight.

* * *

I tried not to let my discomfort show as I sat next to Isaac in the principal's office. Sarah had been right. My balls were going to ache for days.

Across from me was the squat, thickset, and surprisingly young principal. She had intensely gray eyes that would have terrified me as a kid, but a soft-spoken voice that also worked to soothe me, even if I wasn't the one in trouble.

Also across from me was Isaac's teacher, Veronica Vega, a Latina whose dowdy long skirt, blouse, and blazer couldn't mask the fact that she was quite an attractive woman. She couldn't have been that long out of college, maybe in her mid-twenties, if that. Slim, delicate facial features, long silky black hair, dark lashes that I bet led to some very heartbroken men. We'd met before when I brought Isaac in for his first day of class, but we were both so focused on Isaac that we didn't have much of a chance to interact beyond some basic pleasantries.

"Isaac, do you want to tell your dad your side of the story?"

Isaac looked up at me, both fearful and pained. He had a bruise on one cheek that left me wanting to find the kid responsible, even if it had been Isaac's fault, apparently. I still wasn't sold on that. Isaac couldn't tell me much on the phone. He was way too emotional.

"We were going to recess," he said. It was more of a loud whisper. Christ, he was terrified. "Mark Rigg, he s-sits next to me in class, and when he got up, he got out all these invitations for his birthday party. He handed me one and I was really excited and he said, 'Your mom and dad can... can come t-too.'" Isaac started to shake and I wrapped an arm around him. Ms. Vega reached out and plucked a tissue from the box. Sweet woman, she came right around the desk and gave it to Isaac herself, patting his shoulder before returning to her chair.

"And then what happened?" I asked Isaac when he had a chance to blow his nose.

"I told him Mom didn't live with us. He asked me, 'Why?' I... I... I don't know why but it made me so mad. I'm sorry, Dad, I'm really sorry."

I took a deep breath and tried not to stab an imaginary version of myself with a pen in my mind. Fuck. I glanced at his teacher. "That's what happened?"

"Yes. I was just a row away."

"Okay," I said. I hugged Isaac again, and told him, "Thank you for being honest."

He shivered, and the principal said pleasantly, "Isaac, would you please go sit in the waiting area for a minute? We need to have a discussion with your father."

Isaac nodded and brushed at his cheeks. "Am I going to get in trouble?"

"Well..." the principal said, sighing. "You already are. But if you're asking if we're going to suspend you or punish you further, no. We've looked at your records and this looks like the first time you got in a fight."

"There was a boy in second grade," Isaac said, staring at the floor.

The superintendent gave him a strained smile, and I said quietly, "Go ahead, bud. I'll be out in a minute."

When the door closed after him, I leaned forward and cupped my hands in front of my mouth, trying to put words to my thoughts. Ms. Vega spoke first. "I want to believe your son is not a violent child."

My hands dropped. "He's not," I said. "I can't remember the last time he fought with his cousins or anyone close to him. I mean, we have arguments, but..." I shook my head. "Jesus. I'm sorry."

The principal placed her hands just so upon her desk, and I realized for the first time how precisely clean everything in the room was. "If you recall from the new student packet, we have a three-strike rule about violence in the classroom. It's the sort of thing we take very seriously here."

"I understand. I'm a little shell-shocked. Has he been acting out any other way? Is he angry or... or... anything?"

Ms. Vega shook her head. "No. He's very kind and bright, and actually I've been meaning to call you in to push for him to join the accelerated learning program."

"Let's stay focused," the principal said.

Ms. Vega gave her a long-suffering look. "It may be part of why he's lashing out. Maybe being challenged could help him focus. I'm not saying it will be a cure-all, but it may be beneficial for him."

"Good, yeah," I said. "Let's get that going. Can I get the parents' names of the other kid? I'd like to apologize to them personally. Isaac will too to the boy."

"The father is coming in soon," Ms. Vega said.

The principal dug in her desk and pulled out a trio of pamphlets. "In the long run, we'd like to suggest that Isaac see a counselor. Divorces can be traumatic, and the emotions children feel aren't always obvious."

"A counselor? Like a psychologist?" I took the pamphlets and glanced at them. All three were advertisements for child counseling services. "I'll... have to think about it."

Outside the office, someone said, "This is him? This is the kid that punched you?"

I stood up, and Ms. Vega did too. The principal said to her, "Show them in, please. I think we're done here."

I nodded and held out a hand to shake. I was kind of pissed about the suggestion that Isaac might need counseling, but it was a targetless anger and I wasn't really sure why it was there in the first place. I headed out into the waiting room to see a heavyset black man with a hand on his chubby son's shoulder. Isaac was sitting in a chair, looking down at the ground.

"I'm really sorry, Mark," Isaac said. His voice was shaky and I thought he might start crying again. "I just... I thought you were making fun of me just having a dad now and..."

Mr. Rigg looked at me with more weariness than anger. "You're the father?"

"I am. Lionel." I held out a hand, and after a moment, he shook it with a grip strong enough to pulp steel. Mine wasn't so soft either, though. "Listen. This is Isaac's first fight. He will be punished for this. I hope there's no hard feelings."

"Your kid punched mine," Mr. Rigg said. "Of course there's hard feelings."

Isaac looked aside at me, miserable again. I went to him and squeezed his shoulder. Ms. Vega said firmly, "Okay, Mr. Rigg. We'll see you in the office now."

"Should we stick around?" I asked her as Mr. Rigg and his son slid past into the office.

"He can come back to class, but I think maybe an hour or two to cool off might be in order," she said.

I nodded. "Thank you. I'm truly sorry about this."

Ms. Vega knelt in front of Isaac. "You're a good student, Isaac, and a good kid. I've seen you help out your classmates and be really cool at lunch sharing your snacks. Can you promise me this won't happen again?"

"Yes, Ms. Vega," he said faintly.

"Okay." She turned to me and smiled. "He's all yours. Maybe bring him back after lunch?"

"Sounds like a plan," I said.

* * *

"Dad?" Isaac asked, his voice very small.

"Hm?" It was the first thing I spoke since we loaded up into the truck.

"Where are we going?"

"I don't really know."

We drove, nowhere in mind. Around us was a nice residential district, the homes small and same-ish, but well-kept. In a few miles, I thought, we'd hit the edge of the suburbs and hurtle out into the plains. My mind wasn't really on anything at all. Not Isaac's fight, not Sarah, not any of the others coming into my life. I just... drifted.

"Are you mad?"

"No," I said, and reached over to squeeze his knee. I thought of something my mom used to say and fought a smile. "I'm disappointed, but I'm not mad."

"I really am sorry."

"I know." I found a chain diner, one of the thousand or so that had wiped out all the small mom and pop chains there in the suburbs. Normally I wasn't a fan -- you knew their menus before you even walked in the door, and they were all mild variations on the same warmed-over frozen meals repackaged and dumped on a plate. But it was food, I was hungry, and Isaac needed something in him. I knew the nerves of being in a fight. Right now he'd be running on empty.

We pulled in, but when Isaac went to unbuckle, I stopped him with my hand on his. I squeezed it and said, "Let's talk a minute."

"Okay."

"A long time ago, I used to get into fights at school. I was maybe two or three years older than you are, so... ancient, but I was still in school."

"What were you angry about?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Everything? I had it in my head my life was terrible, and everyone sucked, and Grandma and Grandpa were never going to let me do anything I wanted to do. I was also really small and I thought that meant I needed to be meaner. I had a temper, and I didn't know for a really long time how to handle it."

"How did you?"

"Well... I got into working out. That helped a lot. And one time I was waiting for my mom after something just like this, and I heard her crying in the bathroom. Just these quiet sobs, and it... it kinda broke me a little bit, you know? Grandma never cries much."

Isaac nodded, his eyes shining again.

"But Isaac, the one thing that helped me the most, and this sucks to hear, was just time. I realized things weren't so bad eventually. And I'm not trying to say you shouldn't be angry or upset or anything like that. I'm amazed at how well you've handled this divorce, your mom moving, and us coming here. There's been so much to deal with, and honestly, I thought something like this was going to come a long time ago. I'm not thrilled about it, but it happened." I reached out and rubbed the top of his head. He let out a nervous laugh, and I hugged him.

"I just... I just thought he was... you know, making fun of..." He sighed. "I don't know anymore what I thought."

"I hear you. It burns so bright in the moment and then you wonder what the hell you were thinking later." He nodded glumly. "Listen, your school wants me to maybe take you to see a counselor. Someone you could talk to. Somewhere safe and private where you can say anything that's bothering you or upsetting you. If that's something you think you need, we'll do it, bud. But if you want to know what I think, I think this was just you blowing off some steam. It happens. But I need to know if you're going to be angry again, you'll talk to your teacher or someone about it if you don't feel like you can talk to me, okay?"

Isaac nodded. "Thanks, Dad," he whispered. "I miss Mom a ton. But I get angry sometimes too."

I hugged him again, silent this time. There was nothing else really to do.

* * *

I don't know why that conversation was such a catalyst, but when I dropped Isaac off back at school, I drove to a nearby park and sat and filled out the necessities to begin to file for my own business in Agramonte. That included touching base with my friend and former employer giving me the loan. He agreed to everything but the interest I wanted to pay him. No interest, he told me. Maybe buy him a cigar and a six pack the next time I was back in town. I intended on buying him a case.

After that, I called Sarah and apologized again. We had a surprisingly long talk, one filled with our own anecdotes at school. It didn't surprise me in the slightest she was something of a fighter back in the day. In a weird way, I'm glad we had that interruption. I'm not sure how healthy our relationship would have been without it. Not that it was super healthy anyways, but still.

I drifted back home and wandered up to Isaac's room. His bed was unmade, the fitted sheet halfway undone, and clothes rested in heaps. I stripped the bed and tried to fix the fitted sheet, pinning the first half down with my knees while I brought one corner up. Only problem was, I'd do one corner and the other would come undone over and over and over again. My frustration boiled up inside me until I was shouting at the damn thing. My fist came up and I drove it down into the mattress. And again. And again. And again. I punched the mattress until I had nothing left in me but exhaustion. I flopped facedown, my chest rising and falling as I tried not to think for a while.

Finally I sat up, rubbed my eyes with two fingers, and dialed Tina. I had no doubt she would hear about it from someone else if I didn't.

She picked up with a laughing, "Hello?"

"Hey. Tina. I need to talk to you about something. Got a minute?"

"Um, can it wait? We're driving down to Anchorage and I'm with a carful of people."

"No," I said, feeling my anger wash all over me again. "It's about Isaac, so it really can't."

"What happened?" she asked.

I told her, my words clipped and short. She listened without saying a word, and when I finally got to the point where I dropped him back off at school, she said finally, "Okay? It sounds like you did a good job."

"What?" I asked.

"What do you mean, what?" Tina asked. "Look, Lionel, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I know this is all my fault or whatever you're calling me for, but you wanted custody. This is your responsibility. You need to deal with it. I'll talk to Isaac tonight, make sure he's okay, but I don't know what else it is you want from me."

"For Christ's sake, Tina, he needs us. Both of us."

"He doesn't get to have both of us!" she snapped.

Silence. I was shocked into utter silence. This was her finally admitting what I'd always suspected, that it wasn't just me she was running from, but motherhood. Responsibility. My anger evaporated, and in its place was exhaustion at the prospect of all the nights like this to come, when Isaac would need and I would be the only one to provide. And given that he was about to become a teenager in just a few short years, that thought scared me on such a fundamental level I felt ill.

"I need to go," I finally said.

"I'll call him tonight but-"

"Don't worry about it," I said. "Enjoy Anchorage."

I hung up. And almost immediately, in a strange sense of cosmic timing, Morgan dialed me just seconds later.

I stared at the phone. At my ex-sister-in-law's name. And when I swiped the answer button, it was with a thumb shaking so badly I nearly dropped the phone.

"That was fast. Did Tina text you while we were talking?" I asked.

"About the fight? No. Isaac just texted me during recess. I know things are... weird between you and me, but I wanted to see if there was anything I could do." A pause. "For him."

I laughed. I couldn't do anything but.