Girl You Fucked Before (18+)

Sleeping With Mr. Floof Floof Every Night

Vanessa

I awoke Christmas morning with the sense that Matt was no longer lying next to me. Feeling around for him on the makeshift bed we had set up, I was greeted with emptiness, his side of the linens still warm. The sound of water rushing through the pipes above me, indicating that he had gone for a shower. Snuggling into the sea of cream knit blankets, I eagerly waited for his return, but my eyes promptly shot open at a kitchen cabinet door shutting.

Clutching my coverings to my chest, I bolted upright. Crap! His Dad. I quickly shimmied my bare bottom into my jeans and pulled Matt's sweatshirt over my head, not even bothering to untuck my hair from the folds of the hood.

As I gathered my sneakers and made an attempt to tiptoe out the front door, being cautious to avoid the creaky floorboard, a voice from the other room called out to me. "Merry Christmas, Vanessa."

My hand still frozen on the doorknob and a crimson flush creeping up my neck, I squeaked out, "Uh...same to you, Mr. Jones."

"You can call me Tim," Matt's dad instructed as he stuck his head out the doorframe of the kitchen. "Come join me for a cup of coffee," he added, waving me over.

Gulping, I dragged my feet across the hardwood, preparing for a lecture about staying the night uninvited in his house and disobeying his rules. Reluctantly, I took a seat at the island. I fingered a smear of red icing left behind on the Formica from the previous evening as he placed a steaming mug in front of me. "I...I'm sorry," I piped up, my voice small.

Mr. Jones sat in the spot opposite me, blowing into a ceramic mug decorated with german shepards donning red Santa hats. He furrowed his brows. "For what, dear?"

So, he wasn't angry? I glanced around the kitchen at baking dishes and utensils neglected in the sink and the opened bag of forgotten flour on the counter. "For the mess," I lied, gesturing at the chaos.

He shrugged me off. "Don't even give it a second thought. I'm happy to see it look this way, actually. This kitchen hasn't had this sort of lively activity since..."

Dark clouds suddenly covered up the light that was just shining in his eyes and he glanced away. "Hailey died when Matt was seven years old. It took him awhile to grasp that she wasn't coming back. He used to stare out the window for hours and I knew that he was awaiting her return."

Shifting in my chair, I took a sip of coffee just to provide a distraction from the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon the room. I cleared my throat. "I'm sorry to hear that, Mr...um...Tim."

He sighed as he took off his glasses and rubbed at the lenses. "He blamed himself, you know. He thought that maybe he had done something wrong to make her go away or perhaps, that she just stopped loving him."

"Oh. That's awful." From above us, the sound of the water flowing through the house abruptly stopped.

He nodded. "Do you know how heartbreaking it is to lose your wife and then have your little boy, your only child, cry to you at night, begging you to bring his mother back and to tell her that he's sorry and won't be bad anymore if she returns?"

I shook my head, aching to comfort that little child. Matt had remained tight-lipped about the details surrounding his mother's passing and the pieces as to why were beginning to fall into place.

Tim gave me a wistful smile over the rim of his mug as he took another sip, the silly cartoon portraits of dogs providing a stark contrast to the somber expression he wore. "He used to be the most charismatic little boy but after her death, he completely shut down. He somehow got it into his head that anybody he loved would just end up leaving him, so he figured it was pointless to try and make friends."