Taboo Read online

  We’re both watching him perform his job flawlessly. Finley glances at me and says, “Have you ever noticed that the birthmark on his back looks like Africa?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “It does, just look at it the next time you get close to him. Totally has the shape of Africa.”

  “I doubt I’ll get that close to him.” I lean closer and whisper. “I did have a dream about him last night.”

  “Oh! Tell me.”

  “It was very PG but also very…erotic? Can something be PG and erotic?”

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  “Okay, well, we were at his house watching movies. He had on that blue shirt; you know the one that he looks amazing in?” She nods. “One minute we’re just hanging out—the next I’m straddling him and kissing. We just kissed and kissed and made out for hours.”

  “Yum.”

  “I could feel his beard on my chin and neck.” I shiver at the memory. God, it was hot. “His breath was warm and he tasted sweet. I could feel the warmth and weight of his body.”

  “And then?” she prompts.

  “And then his hands slipped under my shirt and I woke up. Stupid freaking alarm.”

  “Ugh. Seriously, but that was a great dream.”

  It was a great dream. I’d been replaying it in my head all day on a continuous loop. Ever since Finley suggested I go for it/him, my mind has been on over-drive. Like right now, I watched him climb out of the pool and duck under the shelter and I start to panic. He does this thing where he leaves without notice and I start to freak out when I can’t find him. Obsessive much? “Shit, do you think he’s leaving?” Finley shrugs. “I’m going to go look.”

  “Knock him out, sister.”

  I slip on my flip-flops and adjust my bikini bottoms to cover my ass, while shifting the top to accentuate my cleavage. I’m too chicken to approach him but I figure I may as well give him something to look at while I’m acting like a desperate loser. I cross the pool deck and realize Finley’s right; Aqua-Man is hot, but young. I suspect the things I can teach him would far outweigh any knowledge he would bring to the table on his own. Although, he’s pretty enough to make it worth my while.

  If I gather the balls to do it.

  I’m recreating my dream and the way his wide, hard shoulders felt under my hands when I turn the corner of the shelter. My thoughts become a fast reality when I slam into Carter, palms out.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say in a rush. I pull my hands away from his smooth, hard chest but his hands grip my shoulders, holding me in place.

  “You okay?”

  Yesssss.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” He lets go of my shoulders. His eyes drop to my chest before flicking up to my eyes. Gray.

  “Your eyes are gray.”

  “Uh, yeah.” A little smile settles on his lips. “Yours are blue.”

  I laugh stupidly because I’m stupid. Completely, totally stupid. “True.”

  Awkward silence and nerves (is it hot in here?) fills the space between us and like a cartoon, a light bulb flashes in my brain and I say, “So, the girls’ mother wanted to see about swim lessons. Do you have any space?”

  “Sure, yeah, hold on.” Carter walks into the guard room and comes out with a piece of paper and a pen pressed between his lips. When he returns to my side I try to keep my eyes off the scattering of hair between his belly button and his red trunks. I try, but fail. He wears them low, nearly hanging off his hips, and when he bends or stretches his arms over his head I can see the pale, untanned skin below.

  Happy trail indeed. Just seeing it makes me happy. Did boys have hair like that when I was his age? Not sure I ever noticed.

  He looks up from his paper. “I can fit them in tomorrow at noon or at five. My shift is in between then.”

  “Noon would be great. I’ll tell their mom. She wants them to work on their strokes, for the meets and stuff.”

  “Sure,” he says. “They’re both doing really well in practice, but the meets can be intimidating so a little extra help may be a good idea.”

  “You’re on the swim team, right?”

  I know he is. Aqua-Man really should reconsider his privacy settings, because I can’t help but stalk his Facebook account. In just a few minutes, I found out he’s not only on the summer league swim team, but the high school one as well. His team just won the state championship, just like the soccer team he captained for. He’s a two-sport state champion. I shouldn’t be surprised. He looks like a two-sport state champion. He’s going to Duke in the fall and yes, his status is listed as ‘single’.

  “I’ve been on the swim team here since I was four. This is the last year I’m eligible.” He folds the paper and shoves it in the pocket of his red shorts.

  “So you know your stuff.” I roll my eyes at myself.

  He laughs and stretches his hands to the edge of the door, giving me a peek of that white, virgin skin. “Something like that.”

  “I’ll have them ready at noon, okay?”

  “Great. See you then.”

  I turn and walk off, only looking back once I rounded the edge of the pool. Yep, he’s watching me. The groundwork has been laid.

  Chapter 5

  The rest of the week I’m consumed by two things: work and Aqua-Man. Lucky for me, they fall together. Except when they don’t. One morning, we arrived with a full day of supplies and he wasn’t there. I realized quickly enough it was his day off. Another afternoon we’d just unloaded our bags when a giant thunderstorm rolled in, keeping me from my favorite past time, Carter Watching.

  “He’s staring at you again,” Finley says. She squeezes a glob of white sunscreen into her palm and spreads it all over her legs.

  “To be fair, he’s probably watching you lube yourself up.”

  I agree, though. I think he’s watching me also. I think he watches when I pull my car in the parking lot. And when I haul in the pool bag and both girls. I’m pretty sure he’s looking when I take off my sundress and reveal which suit I’m wearing. Today’s is black with tiny cherries scattered across the fabric.

  “Did he just adjust himself?”

  “I’m sure he did. It’s constant,” I say. And while it should be gross, for some reason it isn’t. Nothing about him is repulsive the way it should be for a kid his age. Everything about him has been cast in a glow of light and sunshine and all things glorious. It’s like Carter walks around with a halo over his head, leaving him in an ethereal glow. And as the summer days pass, Finley and I settle into an easy rhythm. We talk about him and what he’s like away from the pool and if he’s ever had sex and of course he’s had sex, but was it good sex? We watch him perform the mundane tasks of his job, and never before has cleaning up or yelling at kids or sitting in a chair high above the pool been so fascinating.

  But there was one thing Aqua-Man does that is better than everyone else. He’s the master of the diving board. When he’s up there, everyone watches.

  “Dear sweet baby Jesus. How can one man-boy be so hot?” This comes from Finley, who has been with Ryan for years but still can’t help her infatuation with Carter. I shake my head and hold my breath as he nears the edge of the diving board. He turns so his back faces the water and hangs his heels over the edge. Two little bounces before one big, deep one and he flies through the air, somersaulting with ease before landing with a splash.

  “That was a-mazing.”

  “Truly,” she agrees, giving him two thumbs up while he’s still submerged. “I give it a 9.5.”

  He pulls himself out of the water, two strong arms grasping the ladder rails. Water slides off his body. It’s more than an average girl can take. We stare, hiding only behind the dark, plastic lenses of our sunglasses. He waits at the bottom of the high dive, hands resting on the metal rungs.

  “Have you noticed his wing-span?” I ask Finley.

  “His arms are just…epic.”

  Epic. The perfect word. Perfect, long and muscular. I want to run my hands down them, feeling every curve. I want to lick the dip between his bicep and tricep. I want him to throw me over his shoulder and do dirty, dirty things.

  “Oh man,” Finley says, undoubtedly thinking the same inappropriate thoughts.

  “Can you imagine?”

  From my periphery, I see her nod, neither of us willing to take our eyes off of him. At the edge of the board he pauses and glances over his shoulder. Peacocking a little. He knows he’s being watched and he likes it. With a quick, deep bounce he sails through the air, twisting sideways, and landing in the water with ease.

  “I want to hump him,” I declare.

  “I know, right?” Finley agrees, taking a sip of her drink. “Last night when Ryan and I were doing it, I pretended it was him.”

  My jaw drops. “You did not.”

  “Yes, I did. And I don’t feel bad about it. I know he thinks about Angelina Jolie when we screw. I deserve a break. It was fantastic, too. Hottest sex we’ve had in months.”

  “Wow.”

  She taps her finger to her chin, thoughtfully. “I should send him a card.”

  “Ruthie,” Claire stands in front of my chair, blocking my view, but her eyes are red so I try to focus on her and not the diving performance.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I left my mermaid in the car.”

  “Oh, no problem sweetie, I’ll go get her.” I stand and walk past Finley, “Be back in a minute.”

  I run out to the car barefoot and find the mermaid squished in the backseat. The black asphalt pavement burns like hot coals and I race back to the shelter, hopping from one foot to the other.

  “Hot, hot, hot,” I chant, once I’m inside the shelter, bouncing gingerly on the balls of my feet. I look up and see him leaning against the wrought iron fence, water rollin
g down his neck, over his chest and down, down below.

  “Hey,” he says, lifting a towel from the fence. “You okay?

  I adjust my bikini top, which for all I know has shifted down to my waist after all that jiggling. “I burned my feet out there.”

  “Want me to look at them?”

  My eyes flash to his hands and my face heats as much as my feet.

  “We’ve got some burn cream in the First Aid kit.” I look up and see his confused expression, because I’ve gone silent thinking about him touching me. “Ruthie?”

  I blink twice, regaining my senses. “I think I’m okay, but thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  We stare at one another and I hold the mermaid up by its red hair. “Claire forgot her toy.”

  He shakes his head and droplets of water scatter across the pavement and me. “She’s cute.” He coughs. “Claire that is. She’s cute.”

  “She really is,” I agree. Then I blurt, “I saw you on the board.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “But you knew that.”

  A smile breaks on his face. His teeth are pretty and white against his tan. “You coming to watch the girls swim tonight?”

  “I promised them I would. First meet and all. They’re very excited.”

  “They’ll do great.”

  I spy Claire looking for me across the pool. “I should take these to her. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Maybe.”

  Chapter 6

  I do see him that night. The swim meet is packed and I’m forced to walk half a mile from my car just to get to the pool. People and kids roam everywhere, like animals in a zoo.

  I make it in time to see the girls’ events, cheering while Harper barely crosses the finish line in a not-so-elegant dog paddle. It’s okay though because it’s her first swim meet and any success counts. She struggles the whole way down the lane, her head bobbing in and out of the water. I can tell she loves it since she flashes the crowed a wide grin with every stroke. Carter kneels at the end of her lane, encouraging her stroke by stroke. He lifts her out of the water by her arms and gives her a big hug when she finally makes it to the end.

  Is it wrong that I’m jealous of that hug? Well, I am. I’m jealous.

  The heats go from youngest to oldest and by the time the teenage boys hit the deck a current ripples through the crowd. People start to chatter when Carter’s age group is announced and I hear his name on the lips of the crowd. Carter Hightower. All-American. It’s in that moment I realize that it’s not only me and the other moms that notice him. Everyone notices him. Carter Hightower, genetically superior eighteen-year-old. grabs the attention of the young and old, male and female. Even Betsy, my boss, elbows me and says, “You’ll want to watch this.”

  Obviously, I do, but I only realize why the instant whistle blows.

  Before the start, Carter ducks behind the timers and coaches, stepping out of his board shorts. My breath catches when he mounts the starting block in a blue and gold Speedo, while the other boys wear our team colors of red and black. It’s so low in the front, so very, very low. When he turns to speak to one of the coaches I see his high school logo across this backside.

  A cougar.

  No shit.

  He gently tugs at the swim cap, until it’s covering his ears and stretches his arms and legs. My eyes are glued to his every move. My heart pounds with every twist and turn, as warms up his body.

  Have mercy.

  Over the megaphone the referee says, “On your mark,” and Carter bends forward, arching his arms to his toes. I nearly drool seeing his shoulders tense and ready.

  “Do you see Carter? In lane three?” Betsy asks.

  “Uh, yeah, I see him.”

  “He’s amazing. Make sure you keep an eye on him.”

  The gun fires and they’re off, Carter dives in the water, his feet disappearing last and he reemerges half-way down the lane.

  I should have realized with all those muscles, with that body, that he’s an absolute powerhouse. A force in the water, overtaking every other swimmer he competes against. The Butterfly is his stroke and I appreciate the beauty in his form, the way his arms transform into literal wings, propelling him through the water. Too soon it’s over and he touches the wall first, the other boys following seconds later.

  Betsy grabs my arm in excitement and says, “Did you see that? We’re so lucky he’s on our team.”

  Lucky is exactly the word I’d been searching for. I twist to see around the man in front of me, who’s no longer interested now that the race is over. I want to see him when he climbs out of the water. He’s soaking wet, of course, skin pink from exertion, and my eyes fall on that Speedo.

  A Speedo.

  No one looks good in a Speedo. No one, I realize, but Aqua-Man.

  The whole thing is a turn on. I’m turned on. From seeing him hugging Harper to the Speedo, to the way he dominated the race. Desire settles deep in my belly. It’s all I can do not to follow him to his spot with the rest of the swimmers and rip that tiny piece of Lycra off his hips.

  But I can’t. I won’t, and I spend the rest of the meet doting on the girls, buying them pizza and soda from the concessions stand. Anything to distract myself, but nothing I do makes the feeling go away.

  I spy on him between events, watching him inhale three pieces of pizza and drink a gallon of Gatorade. He uses it as fuel, I’m certain, feeding his mass and all the energy that rolls off his body in waves. When I can’t stand it for a minute longer, I find Betsy and say, “I’m going to head out.”

  “Thanks for coming,” she says, giving me a hug. “It means a lot to the girls.”

  “Of course,” I tell her. They’re going out with the team for ice cream afterwards and it feels like one of those family moments, anyway.

  Leaving the noisy swim meet behind, I step into the darkened street toward my car. I haven’t gone far when I spot his SUV, the trunk door lifted up. In the faint glow of his interior car light, I see Carter pulling a shirt over his head. The magnetic draw to him overwhelms me, but I resist, reminding myself I could be his much, much older sister and forcing myself to think of non-sexual things like puppies and shoes.

  “Ruthie.”

  Dammit.

  “Hey, Carter,” I say, veering in his direction. I eye his damp hair and the towel slung low over his hips. In the dark I see the blue and gold Speedo on the ground. He’s got a pair of shorts in his hand.

  “Oh, um…” he’s naked under that towel. Naked. One shift and that towel could fall to the ground and there will be nothing I can do to stop myself. My mind wanders…

  “Yeah, give me a second.” He sort of turns away and performs some kind of magic where he slips his shorts on under the towel. They’re sports shorts. The mesh kind, blue with the number 17 in a circle on his thigh.

  “I can’t stand wearing that wet bathing suit all night,” he says as if nothing just transpired between us. Does he even know I gave him a mental blow job? Because I did. I fully imagined it. What it looks and feels like. What he tastes like.

  Stop. It.

  “I bet,” I say, choking a little on the words. What now? Do I tell him congratulations on his win, on his gift of genetic superiority, for being able to turn my body into a quivering mess?

  Or, you know, just congratulations.

  “Great swim.” I lick my lips, still tasting his imaginary cum. I’m a pervert, and he watches my every move closely because he’s a boy and I think he can read my mind.

  “You saw my race?”

  “Didn’t everyone?”

  He shrugs but I see the small smile on his mouth and I know he knows how amazing he is. I like that about him. I like that he owns his power. When you’re king of the world, claim your title. “The girls did well. Harper made it across the finish line—that’s a very big deal when you’re four.”

  I keep my eyes on his chest but I feel his lingering on my mouth. I attempt to say something else, something witty, but I don’t. Instead my mind goes blank and then I’ve pressed my mouth to his and I taste his tongue and the sugary sweet of the candy he must’ve just eaten.

  Oh god.

  Any thoughts of him not being receptive are instantly dashed when his teeth crash into mine. He’s a little sloppy, but so, so eager, and I forgive him when his hands cinch around my waist, engulfing me with their size. He may be a boy, but gah, he feels like a man.