The Bar

7. Growing

She grabbed the edge of the desk, hoisting herself up. She straddled him as he sat on the desk, slightly leaning back. Her hand moved through his hair, pulling him to her. Her lips tasted like oranges. She moved her hips up, grinding against him for a moment. She pulled him closer. Flint opened his mouth, letting her move her tongue in. His hands moved up her torso, grabbing her t-shirt and pushing it up over her head. When he looked down, his appendage strained even more against his jeans. Her breasts hidden behind a black lace bra. Her chest moving up and down faster than normal. He stared at her large, round, breasts for sevral moments.
"Fuck," he murmured stunned at how beautiful the girl was.

She pulled him back to kiss, moving her lips skillfully, biting his lip, moving her tongue inside his mouth. She moved her hand down his chest to his belt. Clara hastily unlatched the belt, then unbutton and unzipped his jeans.
She looks at him with devilish intent. His heart rate picks up as he feels her hand enter his jeans. The pain was excruciating. He needed to feel her.

Flints eyes fluttered open. His heart beating fast, pain in his groin surged through him. He groans in pain from wanting her. His eyes wonder to his lap, his hardened appendage slightly lifting the blanket. He groaned again, knowing cold showers would not keep him restrained for much longer.

_______________________________________

Clara woke up Sunday morning at 6 am. She showered and put on a mint green halter dress that went an inch below her knee. She put on a pair of black heels and tied her hair up in a bun. She put in her contacts, not wanting to wear the large frames.
She grabbed a white shall and her clutch then left her room.

Church service took longer than expected. After the priests rant on the terrible world of alcohol and drugs, people gathered around the courtyard.

"I'll get Maisie," Clara says to her mother, turning on her heels, the brown haired beauty goes back inside the church and moves to a stairwell. She descends the stairs to a basement. Light blue walls were covered in butterfly cutouts. Windows covered much of the walls, letting in the natural light. After passing the second door, Clara turns into a large play room with several kids running and laughing.

"Ara!" Maisie yells running to her sister. She pulls her sisters hand and leads her to the back of the room where the wall is covered in kid drawings.

"Thats mine," Maisie says pointing to the picture with two stick figures holding hands.

"Who is that?" Clara asks.

"You and me." Clara smiles at the drawing then she kneels down to her sister.

"Go get your stuff, we are gonna get something to eat, okay," she says with a smile. Maisie hurries to her cubby, grabbing her sandals and sweater.

Clara feels a faint pain wash over her as he watches her sister put on her shoes. The little girl didn't know how much sadness she'd feel when she grew up. She didn't know the pain that she would feel once her parents and their religion show their true colors.

The afternoon slipped by in slow motion. Judgemental eyes, voices, and manarisms usually kept Clara on her toes, however this sunday was different. Her brain clouded with images of Flint. She felt her knees twitch and she forced her legs to cross. Her hands tightened around the arms of her chair. The burning sensation was unbearable, but she didn't know how to release it.

_______________________________________

By the afternoon, Flint had hired painters to paint the wood panels a nice shade of black, he had hired some guys to come by and fix the floors that were scuffed and scratched by the glass. Currently, Flint was at his desk, scrolling through his laptop, looking at glasses to replace the broken ones.