Mind Caviar Fiction

Tara Alton has published in Mind Caviar with her haunting story "Coins" [one of the editor's all-time Mind Caviar favorites]. She has since published stories and essays in numerous Web magazines such as Girlphoria, Sauce Box, Thermoerotic, and has stories in the print anthologies Best Women's Erotica 2000 and Guilty Pleasures. Tara Alton’s secret desires are to live in London, eat Cadbury Flakes in times of crises, buy tons of books on Charing Cross Road, and own a nice flat with a green grocer and newsstand around the corner. In real life, she lives in the Midwest, collects tattoos, worships Bettie Page and writes erotica, because that is what is in her head, and it needs to come out.

Email Tara Alton. Visit Tara Alton online.

Sugar High

They I’m definitely not in my twenties anymore. I know physically I’m thirty-five, but I always thought maybe in my brain, I was still around twenty-five. Well, I’m definitely not thinking that now, because I’m over at my niece’s party. She's nineteen, and she has a gaggle of friends over, including some guys ranging from early to mid twenties. I’ve never seen such a bunch of silly youngsters. I can’t believe I ever acted like that at her age.

The party was all her idea, and this is what she's serving for food. Candy. Bulk food central. The girl went nuts. No wonder they are all acting stoned. They're hopped up on sugar.

I’ve never felt more out of place in my entire life, and yet she considers me the hip, trendy aunt, the career girl who traveled, and the one she wanted to be like some day-- not the boring middle-aged woman she considered my sister to be. Lisa was the valedictorian of her class, but she had gotten pregnant right out of high school because her future husband told her that he would pull it out in time and she believed him. By twenty-one, she was already inviting me over to bridge parties to check out her Sears colonial furniture.

Meanwhile, there was me, the quintessential single girl who lived in a one-bedroom apartment in a high-rise building and who drove the latest VW bug. The most I had to worry about when I left on vacation for Hawaii or the Caribbean was if my cactus might die, and it drove Lisa nuts, knowing that our lives were that much different. She wanted me married and pregnant so she could justify her own existence.

Where was she, by the way? She was probably off having one of her famous sulks. Lisa was pissed at me because I broke up with investment banker she fixed me up with a few weeks ago. Kevin was good on paper, but he was as boring as lint. She considered him to be The One. I considered him The Pain in the Ass I needed to get rid of. That was a month ago. I don’t think she’s even begun to forgive me.

I grab another Twizzler, snapping it between my teeth, wondering when would be a gracious time to make my departure. At least Wendy's having fun. The girl certainly liked to show off some skin. She didn’t get that from Lisa-- or me. Lisa was already wearing the two-piece, jersey knit matching outfits with flowers and butterflies embroidered on front. I at least had some style. My outfit consisted of a camel-colored, mock wrap skirt with a sleeveless ribbed turtleneck and tall leather boots.

I can't tell which boy Wendy likes. She's equally flirting with all of them, sort of like they are all one great big giant pal. When did these guys get to be so young? I remember being eighteen and thinking that a twenty-one year old guy was heaven. Now they looked like kids.

One guy turns around and I think he doesn't look so bad. He seems a little older than the others, maybe twenty-five. I remember Wendy saying she was inviting over a lab assistant from her college who she thinks is cool. Maybe that's him. He's got fine body, maybe a little too wiry, but he's fit. His eyes and his cheekbones are killer. There's definitely some fawning going on around him.

Oh shit. He catches me looking at him. I nearly choke on the last bite of my Twizzler. I look away. He isn’t coming over is he? I peek. He's breaking away from the crowd and coming over. "Oh shit," again. Suddenly, I feel like one of those girls.

Grabbing another Twizzler, I bend it in half and bite it off in the middle as he stops in front of me. You’re the adult, I tell myself. Wait a minute. So's he. An adult.  What the hell does that mean?

I look at him and manage a wan smile. My hand automatically tucks my hair behind my ear. Crap. Don’t do that. His eyes are so freaking blue, and he's got dimples, too. Good Lord. Help me. My Twizzlers are suddenly doing a hole down in my stomach. I haven't had a reaction to a guy like this since Junior High.

 “Are you having a good time?” I ask.

 He nods. 

Please don’t have a sexy voice to match. Don’t say anything more. Just let him walk away. Why is he looking at me like that?

 “Do you know Lisa from college?” I ask. 

What the hell? It's as if my mouth is working independently from my brain.

 “I work in the chemistry lab. I’m Joe,” he says, holding out his hand.

 “Aunt Casey,” I said automatically, taking his hand. I feel an  instant, tangible sizzle. My brain empties out all words. I let go of him. My brain jumpstarts back up.

 “Well actually, just Casey,” I say.

 I can’t take anymore. Even though he's a foot away, he's way too close. I excuse myself and make my way to the bathroom off the kitchen, but it's occupied, so I stand near the counter, trying to get my bearings, when I realize he followed me.

 “I’m not usually this direct, but you’ve got to be about the prettiest girl I’ve seen in a long time,” he says.

 Wow. That totally catches me off guard. Am I blushing?

 “Girl?” I ask.

 Another nod from him.

 “There’s a whole room of girls in the next room. I’m a woman. I’m thirty-five.”

 He shrugs.

 “I’m twenty-five,” he says. “There’s only ten years between us.”

 “A decade,” I add.

 Without pussyfooting around, he closes the distance between us. He's so close, I can see the texture on his lips, and the blue and gray streaks in his eyes.

 “There’s only one way I can convince you of my sincere interest,” he says.

He kisses me. I can't believe it. Never in my life has someone just walked up and kissed me, and what a kiss it is! 

He's sweet and gentle, just using a pressure of his lips against mine, no rabid tongue trying to find out where my tonsils are located. My mouth opens slightly, and I suck in his breath. Talk about a Pandora’s Box. All sorts of things start racing through my body. I imagine us on a moonlit beach, under the stars, a beautiful flower tucked behind my ear, his lovely, long fingers caressing my body, him untying my bikini top, exposing my breasts to the warm night air. Then he kisses me down the length of my body, his fingers making their way between my legs, bringing a smile to my face that must seem as bright as the moon.

I break away and bring my hand to my tingling lips. A twenty-five year-old just kissed me. Now I want to fuck him in all sorts of places, like in my VW bug, in my queen-sized bed, on my balcony next to the grill, and right here in Lisa’s kitchen. Then another thought occurs to me. What if Lisa comes in right now and catches me smooching her daughter’s lab assistant? What if Wendy catches us? This is not going to happen.

 Without much decorum, I flee the room and head for the front room. Gone is the colonial furniture. Now everything's modern. The white furniture and carpeting are more for show than go. It's like a sanctuary, really. You could always escape in here during family functions. It took people eons to find you. If you slouched in the right space, you could literally disappear from the viewpoint of the doorway.

Leave it to Wendy, though. She had put candy in here, as well. I sink into the love seat, grabbing a couple Sweet Tarts from the bowl on the coffee table on the way down. I need a few minutes to get my bearings. Then I'll make my excuses and go home.

With four candies in my mouth at once, the flavors melding into a powerful, fruity zing, I close my eyes. I'd once eaten so many of these the top of my mouth bled. That was my problem. I didn’t know when to stop when things felt good.

The kiss faded from my lips. All those racy thoughts had been probably all in my mind anyway, brought on by too much sugar.

I hear a footstep on the carpeting and open my eyes. Joe's standing there, his hands on his hips, looking at me. My response is to pop a few more Sweet Tarts in my mouth.

Suddenly, he grabs my hand.

“Come upstairs with me,” he says. “I need to show you something.”

Why I go with him, I have no idea. I'm propelled along by his intensity, and I find myself traipsing up the stairs behind him. The grip he has on my fingers is nearly hurting me, but I don't want him to let go. I have no idea what he could show me in Wendy’s room. He partially closes the door behind us, and he pulls me into the space between her bed and the wall where he tugs me down beside him on the floor.

More subterfuge, I realize. We think alike. If he'd closed the door, it would be suspicious. He goes to kiss me again.

“I just ate a ton of Sweet Tarts,” I tell him.

He doesn’t care. He kisses me anyway. It's the sweetest kiss of my life. Again, I break the kiss. There's a party in my pants, and it doesn't want to stop, but I shouldn’t be almost fucking my niece’s guest right next to her bed.

“I have to stop,” I say.

From his pocket, he pulls out a green apple Jolly Rancher, my favorite. Unwrapping it, he holds it between his teeth, leaving half of sticking out. I know what he wants. I take the other half in my mouth and we suck on it together. It's intense. Suddenly, it slips free and shoots into my mouth. I stick it in a corner with my tongue, and then push my tongue into his mouth.

Slowly, he traces his fingertips down the length of my bare arm, giving me gooseflesh as he travels, his fingers finally reaching the tips of mine. My hand is curled next to my rib cage, and he uses his thumb to graze under the curve of my breasts, my nipples hardening.

I want to touch him so badly. Lowering my hand down his back, I free his shirt from his jeans and slide my fingers under the fabric to touch his back. His skin feels like a warm rock in the sun. I close my eyes, reveling in the texture, bringing my hands around to his chest, finding it just as smooth. His chest is that of a young, beautiful, physically fit man. Opening my eyes, I run my fingers down his stomach to his abs. He sucks in his breath.

He kisses me behind my ear, the most sensitive place on my body. His lips brush against my ear lobe. His teeth graze against it. I push my hair away from my ear so he can get closer to it. He nibbles at my ear lobe; I hear his tongue against my skin. The room begins to swim. Everything seems blurry, hot, heat.

He brings his mouth back to mine, kisses me harder, his hands moving down my back to the zipper on my skirt. Does he dare? He doesn’t. No, he just squeezes my ass with a grope straight out of high school.

I look in his eyes. He's teasing me. I giggle. His fingers go down to my bare knees. He caresses them. Gooseflesh spreads up my thighs. A butterfly feeling tickles my stomach, and I twitch around like a nineteen-year-old, not sure if I'm going to laugh, or if I'm going to open my legs for more.

I'm lost in the urgency of the moment, because I don't even hear them coming up the stairs. Suddenly, Wendy and her friends burst through the doorway. Joe and I shoot up on our knees.

“It’s got to be here somewhere,” I say, acting as if I'm looking for something.

Joe joins right in.

I look up at Wendy, hoping my face looks normal.

“Didn’t I loan you a charm bracelet?” I ask, lifting a necklace up from the floor.

Wendy was forever losing jewelry under her bed.

“No,” Wendy says. “You’re so silly, Aunt Casey. I gave that back to you a month ago.”

“Yeah, right,” I say. “Well, Joe. Thanks for helping me look.”

I race out of there like a bat out of hell. The girls’ voices pick up the moment I leave. I'm almost down the stairs when Joe comes up behind me. He slides his hands under my shirt and caresses my rib cage, nearly knocking the breath out of me from the sexiness of his gesture. I stumble toward the kitchen where Lisa stands.

“So Casey, Kevin called me the other day and he still wants to see you,” she says.

Holding up my finger to say, "hold that thought" or rather wanting to hold my middle finger and say, "fuck that thought," I head for the now open bathroom.

“Got to pee,” I announce.

The only problem is that Joe is in hot pursuit right behind me. I nearly close the door in his face. I lock it and take a deep breath. My body's still on fire. I realize I still have the green apple Jolly Rancher in my mouth.

Like a little kid, I hold my ear up to the door. Is he still out there? I can sense him breathing. There's a tentative knock.

“I think the bathroom is taken,” Lisa says.

Joe raps again.

“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” she says. “Just cut through the master bedroom.”

He jiggles the knob. I look at myself in the mirror. My hair's disheveled,  my face is flushed. I rather look like I do when I've had one too many cocktails-- and all that just from kissing him. Do I really want him? Should I tell him to go away, or pull him inside and fuck him? My body aches for him, but how can it?  I barely know him. How can I be having this connection with a guy ten years my junior, whom I hadn’t even known an hour? We hadn’t even gone on a date. We sucked a Jolly Rancher together.

“Son, are you deaf? There is a bathroom upstairs,” Lisa shrills.

The tone in Lisa’s voice drills through me. It's the same disapproving edge in her voice I’d heard all these years about not being married and about not having any kids. When was I going to grow up and be an adult?  I 'm so sick of hearing her go on like this. That’s why I went out with Kevin. Just to shut her up, and looked what happened. I was miserable. This was the first time I felt alive in ages.
With a force that even surprises me, I unlock the door, jerk it open, yank Joe inside the bathroom and lock the door. He looks startled, but then I see the relief in his eyes. Lisa starts going ape shit out there as to what's going on in her bathroom, but I kiss him. He kisses me back, slides his hands back under my turtleneck to my ribs and keeps them there. I pull him even closer, groping his body, feeling how hard he is against my thigh.

Even if this ends up hurting like hell-- like Sweet Tarts' acid burning the roof of my mouth-- I want this. I really do.

Copyright  ©  2003 Tara Alton. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or post.

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