Homebound Ch. 01

My mama had tried to switch my schools after work due to an incident that nearly landed me in the hospital but instead of assisting her, the school reported us. CDSS investigated, finding she had come to the country illegally and had no record of her.

She hadn't attempted to apply for citizenship. She'd been too fearful of the repercussions she could face if she had and this lead her to never try. The thought of losing me in the process of gaining citizenship scared the shit out of her and rightfully so. I don't blame her for the actions she took in hopes of keeping us together.

It was safer for us to travel frequently to avoid any suspicion, taking buses up and down the coast to find odd jobs and seasonal work. Unfortunately, this only lasted a decade before she was detained. As she sat in the detention center awaiting her trial, she suffered a massive heart attack while I was already on to my second foster home in two months. The first couple took me to visit her and that was the last time I saw her.

Things went down hill from there. As I said, shit hit the fan. I bounced from foster home to foster home. I started isolating myself more with each family, receding within my own mind to the point of being unapproachable.

Toughening up was my only option in my revolving world and I turned into a risk taking idiot. I made poor choices, got into way too many fights. A few stays in juvie didn't clear my head up and I bet if I had been male, I would've gotten worse sentences. The one fight that sticks out in my brain was when I was sixteen years old. I like to think of it as a turning point. It was probably the worst one I'd gotten myself into and, yes, I asked for it.

I was working at a tiny convenient store in San Bernardino, the owner turning a blind eye to the fact that I was only sixteen. Shit, I didn't care. I was making decent cash under the table after school and weekends. Plus, it got me away from the strange group home I was residing in. It was a Friday night, and I didn't usually work as late due to the owner being concerned for my safety. Ironic.

There'd been a call out and I couldn't pass up extra hours. Around one in the morning, a handful of guys came in, all three of them inebriated to some extent. They fucked around, throwing bags of chips and packages of cookies at each other. I laughed along with them, figuring I'd just clean up when they left before the next shift came in.

They came up to the counter, arms full of random snacks. I was surprised they weren't buying more alcohol. I rang up their things, the tallest guy eyeing me the entire time. I knew it was probably due to my appearance and his uncouth comment was expected. His buddy handed me the total and I gathered their change.

When I handed the cash back to his friend, the tallest narrowed his eyes at me. "Fucking dyke," he muttered under his breath. I should've just rolled my eyes and ignored the comment. That's what a normal person would do, what I would do now. However, I was a girl mad at the world around me, finding any way possible to pick a fight so I could feel like I had a tiny semblance of control.

"The fuck you just call me?" I asked, meeting his eyes.

"You heard me," he spat.

At this point, I should've just let it go. But, I didn't. "What's your problem? Some butch come and steal your girl? It's not our fault if you've got stamina problems and we can go on night long."

His face reddened with rage. "You little bitch. Think you could take me?" His two friends were trying to talk him down, but he wasn't listening. We were eye locked and I knew I was pushing it.

But, as cocky as I was, I didn't think he'd fight me right there in the store. Yeah, I'm a fucking idiot. "What are you going do,puta? You afraid this little dyke is going to fuck you up in a fight?" I rounded the counter and put myself in front of him. Bad idea. Although he was being an asshole, he had at least three years and a foot on me. I didn't give a shit and I should have. I puffed out my chest, stepping closer yet. His fist met my face and I grabbed hold of the counter. I fought back, getting a few punches and a knee to his crouch. That got him distracted for a moment, his knees buckling, and his waist bent. I didn't anticipate him pulling a knife out of his pocket. Cheater.

I don't know what I would've done if I hadn't been on state insurance due to being a foster kid. I'd probably still be paying the hospital bill to this day. A week in the hospital and a potential trial had the group home I was staying with at the time hastily calling my social worker. I was sent to another foster family over in Long Beach. The family was nice, and I feel fortunate I left the system on a decent note even though I felt bad for dipping out on them.

**

We had dinner with Ana, her and I discussing the upcoming school year and what my expectations were. I was excited to start new, a place to live with people I saw as family and a solid job. It was more than I could ask for. I thanked her again before Al and I headed out into the warm evening.

The club was lit, which, according to Alejandro, was the norm. Bodies meshed through the dance floor, lights overhead flickering and music blaring through numerous speakers throughout. It was like any gay club I'd gone to before and I had my eyes scanning the crowd. I headed to the bar, ordering an IPA. The bartender handed me my beer and I sighed, taking in the bitter drink.

A chuckle to my right had me looking up, meeting green eyes. "IPAs are the hipster's pumpkin spice latte," she said, her voice rich and flowery. Can a voice be flowery? Well, hers sure was. Loose blonde curls lay over her bare shoulders, pale skin exposed by her strapless dress. She took her drink from the bartender and met my eyes again.

"I haven't heard that one before," I noted. She looked familiar and it hit me from where. "Hey, you're the one who found my wallet."

She nodded, the movement sensual as she brought a martini glass to her lips. Damn, she was beautiful and I was second guessing my assumption of her sexuality. "Rachel. And you ought to be more careful with your wallet."

"I'll keep that in mind, Rachel," I said, taking a long pull from my beer bottle. She was the epitome of sexy, her tresses hanging down her back, the short black dress she wore in lieu of the sundress from that afternoon coming down to barely cover her thighs. Little patches of freckles were sprinkled over her bare shoulders, her forearms, her chest down to where the swell of her breasts was concealed by the dark material of her dress.

"What do they call you?" she finally asked, reaching over and placing her hand on my thigh. The brazen gesture made my heart quicken and I couldn't deny the sudden arousal threatening to consume me.

I chuckled, swallowing another sip of beer. "A lot of things, most being inappropriate in the presence of someone so beautiful. You can call me Jo."

She threw me an incredulous look before turning to look at the dance floor. "Okay, Jo, do you want to dance or should we just skip the preamble and get out of here?"

She was sexyand got right to the point. "Either is fine with me," I admitted, winking at her. Her pink lips curled and she finished her drink in one sip. I took that as my cue to down my beer or I'd be leaving it unfinished. She stood, fingers trailing over my thigh, one eyebrow quirking before she removed her hand and started toward the door. I threw a couple bills down on the bar and followed her through the crowd.

I loved Bellingham, its city feel without the overwhelming chaos that followed. Night had fallen but the summer warmth still permeated the air and the alleyway smelled faintly of fried foods from the food truck down a ways.

I followed Rachel, flanking her side. Her hips swayed as she walked and I wasn't sure if she did that for my sake or if that's just how she carried herself. Either way, my eyes were on her beautifully round backside and the back of her thighs, ridged with strong muscles. I decided she was a runner or maybe she did spin because people don't just acquire legs like that by sitting at a desk.

Tentatively, I touched her back with my palm and she stopped, whipping around and capturing my lips with hers. It was the most intense kiss I'd ever had and my body was thrumming with more than just arousal. She pressed me against the wall of a closed shop, her hands circling my hips and grabbing my ass. She was making it obvious she didn't need any wooing and holy crap was she a good kisser. She pulled back and examined my face, eyes heavy lidded and lips pursed. Her eyes looked around the street and there seemed to be a flash of indecision that passed over her face before she bit her lower lip. "Come on," she said, turning on her heel and taking my hand.

We made it quickly on foot, scaling the stairs at record speed as we headed up to her door, the building only holding four units. It was set facing the water, the view spectacular and, I'm sure, expensive. Calling her condo extravagant would be a fucking understatement. It was enormous, so much so I can hardly call it an 'apartment' or even a 'condo.' The door opened into a cavernous living room, complete with French doors leading onto an elegant balcony over looking Bellingham Bay.

The kitchen was set off to the left side, granite countertops(of course), stainless steel appliances(of course), and a wine refrigerator. Who the hell was I about to have a one nighter with? "Nice place," I muttered because I didn't know what else to say. I'd been in expensive houses before when my mother did housekeeping and I had to tag along and later when I worked with her friend, another migrant worker. Her apartment easily compared to those in LA and Burbank.

"Thank you."

Although the home was well furnished and beautifully decorated, it felt slightly hallow. There was a personal touch that it lacked and I could feel it as I noticed the decorative floral arrangements, modern prints on the walls, generic book titles on the built in wall bookshelf. I let my finger trail over the bindings of the books as I heard her pour herself a glass of wine. A book caught my eye and I slipped it from the shelf with a chuckle.

Although I had just met her, she hardly seemed like one to read romance novels, the rest being what one would expect from a lavish home: Faulkner, Lee, Austen, Dickens, Plath. "You read Radclyffe?"

She turned, a grin gracing her lips and she ignored my question. "Want something to drink?" I swear I saw a hint of red in her pale cheeks as she turned back to her task.

"Please," I answered as I put the book back in its spot on the bottom shelf next to a compilation of Shakespeare. I turned, taking in the massive entertainment center. Flat screen television, surround sound, Blu-ray player. I made my way to the French doors. "May I?" I asked, looking over to her and she nodded. I opened the doors and stepped out onto the concrete patio. I looked out over the balcony, taking in the sight of the moon hanging low in the sky above the bay.

It was gorgeous and I sighed. "This is quite the view you've got," I offered as I heard her step outside. Her hand touched my back, fingers running up my spine sending a shiver through me. She reached her other hand around, passing me a beer bottle. IPA. And she had the nerve to give me crap about my beer choice. "Thanks," I said, taking the beer from her. She sidled up beside me, arms dangling over the railing.

She was silent, her face poised toward the cloudless night sky, a soft smile on her lips. I took my fingers and gently pulled her hair out of the way of her neck, pushing it to flow down her back. Bringing my lips to her neck, I kissed the curve, running my fingers through her hair. She cooed so I darted my tongue over the area, her coo transforming into a quiet moan. "Before we keep going, I don't do breakfast," she whispered, as if that simple statement contained a detailed explanation of her intentions.

"Okay? We can have brunch," I whispered against her neck before nibbling.

She took a sharp inhale of breath before she could continue with an explanation. "I'm not fond of awkward morning afters. I don't do relationships," she sighed. I ran my hand down her back, moving closer to her, bringing my hip to hers. I planted kisses up her jaw before I met her lips. She was watching me quizzically, her wine glass still cupped in her hand. "Is that all right?"

I shrugged. "Sure," I said, because it didn't matter all that much to me whether or not we met more than once. To be honest, after I said it, I realized it did matter. It mattered a lot. I wasn't sure why that was but there was no way I wanted it to end after one night. I figured it was the strange feeling I got when we made eye contact. However, one wonderful night together is better than none at all. Better to have loved and lost...you get the point. She kissed me fiercely, her tongue tracing my lips until I parted my own. She tasted like the wine she had been sipping and I drank her in.

"You should strip for me," she breathed against my lips. I chuckled and took a step back, placing my beer on the patio table with a soft clink.

"Oh, yeah? Should I?" I teased, my hands on the hem of my shirt. Her green eyes caught the light coming from inside her living room, an eyebrow lifting as I pulled my shirt up, revealing my slim waist.

"Keep going," she said.

"Isn't there usually music when someone strips?" I tried to lay on the smolder, quirking an eyebrow and my lips lifting into a crooked smile. My hands halted their progress and she sighed. I watched her saunter back inside and fiddle with the stereo before a local radio station started in. I smirked at her when she made her way back outside, arms over her chest and a smile on her face. "That's better," I approved, pulling my shirt up and over my head. I threw it onto a lounge chair beside the patio table and I heard her gasp.

I thought the lighting would conceal the marks on my belly from my last abysmal fight but, as she stepped forward and touched my skin, I figured she'd seen them. She caressed my abdomen gently and she brought her lips to mine. It wasn't like I was embarrassed by the scarring, but I hated to have to explain where I'd gotten it. Way to be a buzzkill during sex. Talk about cock block, eh, clit block, rather.

Somehow, this was relayed to Rachel because she didn't say anything about them, her palms moving away from the gnarled skin to my back, fingers finding and unclasping my bra. I closed my eyes as she slipped the straps off my shoulders, her hands cupping my naked breasts. Our kiss deepened, her tongue lashing out at mine while she pinched a nipple. I wrapped my arms around her, finding the zipper of her dress and easing it down.

Her dress fluttered to the floor of the patio and I ran my hands down her naked back, grabbing her ass. She pulled back, her breath already coming fast. "Let's move this to the bedroom before my neighbors call the police," she murmured. I followed her inside and this time I knew she was swaying those hips for my appreciation. Her little black panties matched her strapless black bra and I felt my mouth water when she turned, shooting me a rueful grin.

Down a long hall, we passed three other doors by the time we reached her bedroom. I told you, the apartment could hardly be considered such. Her bedroom was much like the rest of her home, decorated expensively with class and lacking a personal touch. The bedspread matched the pillows and the pillows matched the curtains and the carpet matched the armchair in the corner. It was like one of those expensive hotel rooms you see in catalogues. She slipped off her flats and crawled into the bed above the blankets, crossing her arms beneath her head as she watched me.

"Are you coming?" she inquired innocently although her eyes were on my breasts.

I slid my shorts down, kicked off my sneakers and climbed into the bed, bringing my body over hers. She moaned when my thigh made contact with her core, my lips claiming hers once more. I bit her lip, nibbled her jaw, kissed her neck. My hands reached beneath her in search for her bra clasp and she lifted herself to assist in my efforts. The bra out of the way, I kissed down her chest, capturing a pale, pink nipple in my mouth. A hand grasped my hair, her legs wiggling beneath me. I twirled my tongue over its pebbled surface and her breath hitched, her hips rising against my thigh. I ran my hands down her bare legs, gripping her tight thighs.

I peered up to find her watching me, her lips parted and cheeks flushed. I let go of her nipple with a softpop.

"I want that tongue somewhere else," she breathed. She really didn't mess around. She knew what she wanted and didn't mind saying so. I grinned, shimming myself lower and grabbing the edge of her panties. I pulled them down, taking in the scent of her arousal and noting the wetness of the material as I tossed them to the end of the bed. I gazed down at her, her clit looking like a pearl as it peeked from beneath its hood, puffy lips glistening with her need, swollen with her desire. I met her eyes again. She nodded, her lids heavy and her chest heaving slightly. I lowered my mouth, kissing her mound, dragging my fingers over her thighs.

I heard her sigh from above and I flickered my eyes to her. Hers were closed, her head back on the pillow and hands at her sides, grasping the blankets beneath us. I pushed her legs open wider with my hands, my fingers barely teasing her blonde curls. I flattened my tongue and ran it from the bottom of her slit to the top, savoring the velvety feeling of her lips and the soft round nub of her clit. She moaned, her thighs quivering at my tantalization and I did it again. The third time, I kept my tongue over her little bundle of nerves, drawing a circle around it before swiping back and forth. I brought a finger to her, parting her lips and pushing gently into her. She groaned, her back arching and head thrashing.

I peered up at her again as my tongue continued its task. Her hands were over her breasts, her fingers tweaking her own nipples and her teeth biting her lower lip. Fuck, the sight of her had me upping my game, flooding me with a drowning arousal. I slipped a second digit into her warmth and the moan it elicited was long and throaty. "Oh, my God," she whimpered, her hips bucking, meeting each of the thrusts of my fingers. "Don't stop, Jo, don't stop," she panted, the muscles tightening and her breath becoming sporadic.

I quickened my tongue over her clit and her body went unhinged. Her hips were bucking, her hands grabbing my hair and pressing me to her need as she rode the orgasm that stole her breath. She cried out and I kind of felt bad for her neighbors, the noise loud and washing me in a suffocating desire. I relished in her pleasure, my mouth greedily taking in her nectar.

The grip in my hair relaxed and I lifted my head, easing my fingers from her core. Her eyes were still shut, her head laying to the side and her breathing regulated. I wiggled my way up to her, wrapping my arms around her limp body. She turned her head to me, eyes fluttering open and she searched my face. "I don't think I've ever come that fast before," she whispered. I blinked, a grin on my face at the verbal ego stroke. Her hands captured my face and she pulled me to her, kissing me deeply, sampling her own taste from my mouth. It was unbelievably sexy. Still kissing me, one of her hands slid down my body, brushing my breasts before grazing my thighs.

I helped her remove my boy shorts, her nails scratching my skin as she pulled them down. I shuddered under her light caress, her fingers touching the trimmed hair of my mound. My breath caught in my throat as she found my clit. Her mouth found a nipple and she sucked it into the damp warmth, her tongue flickering over it. She climbed over top of me, her hand pushing my legs apart to make room for her.