Author's note: This is the final chapter and I went with a little something different for the finale. Instead of Hero narrating, it's Heather aka "Peaches" telling the story. It felt right to let her have the last words.
*~*~*~PART I~*~*~*
Okay, I learned something new on my little trip Down Under. International travel bites. After about the sixteenth hour on a damn airplane, even if you're in first class, you just want off.
Normally, I shower twice a day. More importantly, thanks to my living arrangements when I'm home from college with Hero and Samantha, I'm used to getting sex about that often too. So by the time I staggered off the plane, I had just gone a little over twenty hours without getting either of my basic daily needs met.
I was tired, my bra was killing me, my usually wavy blonde hair was a limp, greasy mess, and I was so climb-the-walls horny that I'd nearly joined the mile-high club by myself in one of the plane's claustrophobic bathrooms before I came to my senses.
All the stuff that had made me cranky stopped mattering when I saw Hero waiting for me at the airport just past security. Wow, I'd missed him. I needed him. Okay, him
and
his big bathtub. And I knew just how to show him how I felt.
I squealed like a happy little girl and yelled "Daddy!" as I ran at him and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around him and peppering his face with kisses too. But then I also shoved my tongue in his mouth and groaned extra sexy-like. I ground my oversized boobs into his chest for good measure.
Not stuff good girls do to their daddies.
Hero is twenty-eight. He's only ten years older than me so there's no way he could
actually
be my father. But there's enough of an age difference there that it sometimes makes people look twice.
Hero was laughing into my mouth as our tongues twisted together. I opened one eye for a peek around and saw about thirty people looking at us. Mission accomplished. I slipped off him with one last little peck on his nose and an evil giggle.
He just shook his head and pulled me towards an exit, "Let's get out of here before they have me arrested."
When we got out to the parking garage, I learned that Hero had scored Sam's sporty little black two-seater because Tracy and Samantha had borrowed his larger car for a shopping trip. Bonus. We opened the windows and sunroof and cranked the stereo on the ride back.
Hero did his best to scare me by taking turns at fifty miles an hour. Silly man. Sammie drove even faster. Especially when he wasn't around to play mother hen. Besides, I couldn't wait to get home.
Home. God, that sounded good. I was bummed because Sam and Tracy wouldn't be there. I missed the girls. But then again it also meant I had the big lug to myself for awhile. That would have its own advantages.
Hero likes it when I speak my mind, so as we parked in his driveway I spoke it.
"Hero, I need a stiff drink and a good humping. Or maybe that's the other way 'round. Either way, think you can help me with at least one of 'em?"
I thought I was being sassy and sexy so I wasn't expecting his reaction. His face went serious and he thoughtfully pulled my suitcase from the backseat then nudged me inside.
"Yeah, about that. Peaches, honey, I've got some pretty ugly news."
My stomach sank. He was on the wagon. Or worse, gone celibate.
The truth was
way
worse.
"We're out of single malt, love."
"Dude, that's not funny."
"I'm not kidding. There's Jameson's..."
"Irish?" I cut him off, wrinkling up my face. "What? Don't you love me anymore?"
"Don't be silly. It's just that there's a back-order on Laphroiag. And before you ask, Tracey finished off all the good tequila yesterday."
"Great. So what are we going to drink? Wine coolers?"
"Mehehe, no. Okay, don't laugh... we're drinking bourbon."
I did laugh. Screw him, it was funny. Bourbon to me meant Jack Daniels. Which meant Tennessee. Which meant wearing overalls and fucking your cousin. I let my face show my suspicion.
"Don't be such a booze snob." He pulled out a funny little square bottle labeled Knob Creek and two glasses. He poured us each a couple of fingers then dropped an ice cube in one (I've got him trained) and handed it to me.
Well, the color looked good. I took a little sniff. Sweeter, not nearly as smoky as single malt. But still nice and oaky. I took a tiny sip. Actually, not bad.
I chanced a mouthful since my taste buds weren't so scared anymore. Huh, oaky
and
sweet – like a mix between a really good scotch and a really good rum. Entirely drinkable.
"Ready for the best part?" Hero grinned as he sliced a bit of rind off an orange on the counter, "C'mere." He twisted the sliver of orange peel and dropped it in my glass.
I looked at it floating there. He'd lost me again and I let him have it.
"Now we're adding fruit? Why not stick a stupid umbrella in there while you're at it? What happened to you while I was in Australia? Oh crap, you're gay now aren't you? For the record, I always said you were straight, but Sam had her doubts."
I swirled my glass a few times as I teased him horribly and then took another sip.
I shut my big fat barbie mouth. Goddammit, I knew I loved this man for a reason. The orange oils rounded the whole thing out. Delicious.
I drained the glass and felt a warm, smooth burn spread from my throat to my chest and down into my belly. I pushed the glass back towards him.
"More please." I said it in my best little-girl voice and it made him laugh.