Cultivating Trust

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Morning Makeup


Squinting at the light coming in the windows of my bedroom, I tried to open my eyes when I heard Chelsea talking to me, but my head was pounding, making what she said come out all garbled. I had a little too much whiskey, but we left early enough not to do much damage. There was one good thing to be said for leaving early.

She shook me again, “Brandt.” I satisfied her by opening my eyes, “Brandt, you are going to be late.”

"Fuck that. The rest of the band celebrated last night too. I don’t think they will make it on time either.”

She gave up, “Fine, suit yourself.”

As she started to climb out of bed, I grabbed her. Oh, no you don’t. I didn’t get any last night and the morning wood screamed for attention. “Make me later.” I went to kiss her, but she turned her head. Fine, she wanted me to kiss her neck instead. I dived in, knowing what she liked and giving it to her.

Testing her to make sure she was ready, I smiled to find her wet and aroused to my touch. When I climbed on top of her and pushed in despite some fading reluctance. It dissipated easily enough with the way I caressed her inner walls.

Makeup sex was supposed to be good, so I tried to work my magic. She didn’t seem to be getting into it, and it bothered me. She always liked morning sex before, so I kept trying.

And trying.

Seriously, I worked it until the sweat poured off me, but she started to go dry, so I finally gave up and came. It wasn’t as good as most times, but as the old saying goes, ‘even bad pizza is good pizza,’ the same could be said about sex. At least that was what I’d always thought.

I frowned as I thought about sex. My views had changed since meeting Chelsea. I wished she’d finished. It bothered me when she didn’t. I couldn’t help but think there might have been something wrong like she had grown bored with me. I couldn’t figure it out. “I thought I had you there for a while.”

“Brandt, I don’t always have to a... well, you know. The doctor said women only achieve one fifty to seventy-five percent of the time, anyway. With you, I feel I am at least above average.”

I laughed and got out of bed, “Chelsea, it is called an orgasm. How you ever talked to your doctor about it in the first place, I will never figure out.” She still couldn’t say the word orgasm. And she was right about the upper end of seventy-five percent. She did come more often than most. At least I had that going for me. It didn’t mean we couldn’t strive for one hundred percent, though. She had the most fucking amazing orgasms and a little part of me thought that if I could please her all the time, she would never stray.

“Well, whatever. I don’t always have to have one of those.”

Getting out of bed, I followed her into the bathroom to check my blood sugar. Checking it in front of her had become second nature, and she almost always insisted I did, wanting to know my numbers, caring about me to the point of worry should they be off. It felt good to have her care about me.

The reading I got wasn’t great, but I figured I went to bed without my nightly dose. The lure of the shower too powerful to ignore, I stepped in and bathed under the steady hot stream. I needed to wake up before I needed coffee and something to eat. Chelsea left to make breakfast for me after viewing my last blood sugar reading and it made me smile. Cool, I could get used to this.

Once I made it down to the kitchen, I sat down at the counter while Chelsea put eggs on a plate in front of me. “So, what did you think of last night?” I wanted to get her view on the evening. It must’ve been a mind fuck for her being, she had never seen the likes of a Taking Numbers party before.

“It was quite the party. I didn’t exactly fit in.”

“You fit in fine. You worry too much. Or maybe you think too much.” She would get used to it.

“Do you smoke pot a lot?”

Her question was to be expected. I shrugged, “No, just when the feeling hits me. Did you ever?” I already knew the answer. My good girl followed the rules.

“No,” and then, “But I guess I am okay with it if you want to.”

She got quiet for a while before adding, “Brandt, as we were leaving, I saw Dex in the bushes.” She paused, hesitating at saying more but then did, “With another woman. They were kissing.” It figured. Why couldn’t he be taking a piss? It didn’t surprise me he sought out someone else the moment Hailey left. Hailey and Dex fought like usual, and he went to seek comfort with another woman.

“Yeah, I guess he does that.”

“You mean he has done that before? And you know? Does Hailey know?”

She looked stunned, “I’ve seen him with other women before, but it is guy code. We don’t talk about it. He has been doing it for a while. I can’t imagine Hailey hasn’t found out.”

She mulled over that answer, “I thought I should tell her.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Chelsea. You don’t understand the relationship they have. They are the couple that is full of drama. They argue and makeup. It is part of what they do. I wouldn’t stick my nose in it.” I didn’t think she understood the Hollywood couples out here. Some just had strange relationships. Thankfully, she let it go.

I gave her a kiss before I left, “I am going to the studio to see if the band even showed up. Quade is probably there sitting alone, but I might as well check. Are you going bedroom furniture shopping today?” She shook her head. It must have been killing her to sleep in that bed. She wouldn’t be able to wash Cami out of the mattress.

Until she said something about it, I didn’t realize the implications of having her in the bed I shared with Cami, much less the many other women I’d been with. Chelsea was better than that, and then I thought once again, I was glad she didn’t know even the half of what I had done in the past with women. I would take it to the grave with me. She would never understand the way I used women in the past, and I couldn’t lose her now.

“What if they think I stole your credit card? It could land me in jail.”

Picturing her in an orange jumpsuit surrounded by women, I laughed, “I would bail you out. I would hate for you to get used to prison life. You might come out a carpenter.” She didn’t understand my joke, so I tried to explain, “You know, it is all tongue and groove in there.”

I laughed when she still didn’t get my crude joke. Her cheeks flushed and her eyes widened with understanding as she groaned at my idea of male comedy. “Brandt,” she admonished.

She didn’t appreciate my sense of humor sometimes. I tried to ease her mind about the credit card though. “I will call the credit card company and give them your name. You are fine to use it. Now go and have fun.” I kissed her again and left for the garage. There, now she had no qualms about being on my credit card. Baby steps. I smiled, pleased with myself.

The long drive to the studio gave me time to think. I thought about how hard it was to get Chelsea to use my money. I would have never thought, in a million years, I would be pushing someone to get on my credit card, but I knew she wasn’t a gold digger. Actually, I was a little scared about it. If she had been a gold digger, then I would only have to worry about her leaving me for a richer guy, but since she didn’t care about money at all, I thought of everyone as a suspicious suitor for her. I couldn’t help it. When things were going right in my life, I couldn’t help thinking something would come along and ruin it. Well, I would put up a fight for this one. Besides Ron taking us on, she was the best thing to happen to me, and I would not lay down quietly.

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