High Class In Borrowed Shoes-Part Four

High Class In Borrowed Shoes-Part Four by Juliana Stone

“You okay?” Mace asked, head cocked to the side.

            “Yeah.” Ashton turned slightly, pretending to look at the jumping rock but every single cell in her young body was on fire.  His touch was electric and it shot a bolt of something straight to her heart. And to her stomach. And lower.

“It’s so far down,” she murmured, heart beating so crazily she was sure he could hear it. She felt the heat of his body and the touch of his other hand at the small of her back. It made her insides quiver.

         “It’s okay. I’m with you. I’ll take you down, unless…”

         Ashton turned her head and looked up at him.  “Unless what?”

         He studied her closely, for several long moments and it felt like time stood still. Live every single person in the world had disappeared. There was only Mace. A slow smile touched his face.

            “Unless you’re afraid.”

         She suddenly thought that he wasn’t talking about the jumping rock anymore. Then she thought, I should be afraid. She thought that she should make up some excuse and run back to Terre and the boys. But she didn’t.

         “I’m not afraid,” she eventually managed to say, her smile overly bright, her voice slightly elevated.  “Let’s do it.”

         His touch never left her body as they slowly made their way over to the jumping rock, his palm flat and against her skin.  There was a line up and she knew they’d be a while.  Ashton was okay with that.  She liked the feel of him beside her. Like the feel of his hands on her.

         She was aware of Jack’s dark looks, of Terre’s stare, of the way the girls looked at Mace and then back to her, their eyes full of envy.

         “So, where do you go to school?”  She asked softly, trying to fill the quiet between them.

         “I don’t.” 

         “Oh.”  He was a drop out. 

         “I graduated last year.”

         Crap, he must be at least eighteen. 

         He pushed her forward, his hand like feathers against her skin. It made her a bit light headed and it took some to concentrate.

         God, he’s probably had sex before.

          Her heart felt like it was going to explode right out of her chest. Ashton swallowed thickly.

         He’s definitely had sex before.

 Suddenly her inexperience was staring down at her and laughing hard. The most she’d ever done was to let Brett Davis undo her top one night a few weeks ago. She’d let him undo her bra and the look in his eyes gave her a power she’d never felt before. It felt so good that she even let him kiss her nipples. But then he got all slobbery and his hands wandered lower and she wasn’t interested anymore.

         “I work at NOTES downtown and gig around with my band.”

         A musician.  She smiled. God her mom would hate that.

         “What do you play?”

         “Guitar.”

         She’d wanted to learn guitar but her mother had insisted piano or cello were her only options.  According to Natasha Breckinridge they were refined instruments while the guitar was modern trash.  Her mother chose piano for her.

         Ashton hated the piano.

         Finally it was their turn and as they stood together, fifty feet above the cool water below, Ashton wished she could take that moment and keep it forever.  The feeling of exhilaration, want, fear and freedom, all of it twisted together and became something indescribable.

         “You ready?”  His eyes were suddenly serious as he looked down at her. 

         She shook her head, “no.” 

         He cracked a smile as his hands slid over the bare flesh along her spine.  His touch was soft, somehow possessive and he gripped her hand within his own.  “Let’s do it.”

         They leapt off the rock together, their hard, young bodies suspended in the air for what seemed like minutes. 

         And then they were rushing downward, the cool wetness of the water covering them whole as they went deep. 

         Ashton let the water embrace her, welcomed the refreshing feel of it but as his hands slid up her torso and pulled her up against his hard chest she was on fire.  Her blood sang and her body melted into his.

         They broke the surface together and she gripped him tightly as she shook the water from her eyes.  Her breasts were crushed against him and she could feel every inch of his body as they tread water together.

         “That wasn’t so hard.” His voice was low, hoarse.  She could hear Jack and Terre yelling down at her but ignored them.

         “No.” 

         “So now you’re not a virgin anymore.”

         His hands were sliding up her back.  They’d made it to the shore line and her feet were once more on solid ground.

         She stared up at him, not wanting to give up his heat, the feel of him against her flesh. 

         “No, I guess not.”  She answered carefully, suddenly unsure and nervous.  There was a whole lot more going on beneath the surface, and for all her bravado Ashton Breckinridge was inexperienced.

         “Glad I could help.” 

         He was so close to her, his lips mere inches away and she felt such a yearning inside that it was painful. 

         She stared at his mouth as the sun shone done on her.  At that moment her life was perfect, filled with promise.  Would he kiss her?

         Would she let him?

 

         “Miss?”

         A soft tug on Ashton’s arm brought her out of dreamland rather quickly.  The hard, cold pane of glass against her cheek was unwelcome and for a few seconds she had no clue where she was.

         “Miss, you normally get off here correct?”

         Ashton came awake fully and sat up straight, her neck protesting the sharp movement, pulling a groan from between her lips.  Outside darkness blanketed everything in a filmy mist of fog and the rain was a constant splatter against the window.

         She could tell that it was cold.  Miserable.

         It somehow fit her mood perfectly.

         She nodded at the driver and murmured, “thank-you”, as she gathered up her large bag and followed him to the front of the bus.  The elderly man had been doing the run to White Lake for the past year. 

         He released the door.  “Here, take this.” 

         She looked down at the umbrella in his hand. 

         “Someone left it a few weeks ago.”  He glanced out into the dark.  “You’ll be soaked without it.”

         “Thank you.” 

         She caught a cab just outside the bus terminal, a luxury she normally didn’t indulge in, but she didn’t have the heart to walk twenty minutes in the rain, even with an umbrella.

         She had just enough time to reapply her gloss and smooth out the curling tendrils of hair that had escaped her pony, when the cab pulled up in front of White Hearth manor.

         It had at one time been a grand home, Georgian in style and the simple elegance of its architecture spoke of an era long gone.

         Seconds later she walked through the doors, looking every inch the person she used to be, three years ago.  Her poise and elegance drew looks from the staff and residents alike, though if they looked close enough they’d notice her hands somehow didn’t go with the ensemble.  They were dry, cracked, and her nails too short. 

         They told the truth if you were looking for it.

         She nodded at the receptionist and sailed by.  Ashton knew exactly where she was going.  She’d been making the weekly trip for almost a year and a half.

         She smiled at Mrs. Hannon, said a polite hello to Judge Dalton who spared her a moment away from his cribbage game and then paused in front of the last door on the left.  Her belly flipped over as she exhaled slowly and then she turned the handle and slipped inside.

         The room was in near darkness with only the soft glow of a nightlight and she panicked for a second until her eyes fell on him.  He was sitting near the window, watching the rain. 

         Ashton reached for a lamp and switched it on, freezing at his raspy voice.  “Natasha?  Is that you?”

         The hope and need she heard brought tears to her eyes. God, he sounded so old.

         “No, it’s me dad, Ashton.”  She took the last few steps until she was standing in front of him.

         “Natasha, don’t be silly.”  His eyes crinkled as confusion filled them whole, the faded blue watery and weak. “Who’s Ashton?  What the hell kind of name is that?  European?”

         His voice rose and her hand fell to his as she knelt in front of him.  He was becoming agitated and she knew it wasn’t good for him.

         “Shush, it’s all right.”  She whispered though inside she screamed at the wrongness of everything. 

         “Natasha where have you been?  Why am I here?”

         Ashton smiled sadly.  They were the same two questions he asked every week.  She settled in beside him, this frail old man who was her father and answered them.

         The same as she’d done for the last year and a half.

         CONTINUE CLICK HERE

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