Chapter 65
Look, it was pure bad luck. Hurting your face is double punishment: everyone asks questions, there's always some idiot who hints that you got beat up on the street, and you have to repeat the same story until you lose your patience. Now tell me: what about when it happens right in the middle of me eating out my cousin's pussy, and when she cums, she jams her nail, finger, hand, and almost her whole forearm into my eye? Yeah. The real version isn't something you can spill in the bakery line.
It got worse because there wasn't time to cook up any lie. Panic hit right then. My face reeked of pussy, it was burning with pain, I needed to clean up first, and there wasn't even a tissue in the room—I'd used them all up with Carla. With my screams, my mom came running with my stepdad right behind. Mariana got dressed in a flash, and when I explained what happened, she just repeated my version like we'd rehearsed it:
"I jumped on top of Mariana, she had her arm up, and her finger poked my eye."
The truth? Mariana clocked me good.
My mom grabbed my arm and dragged me to the hospital. To this day, I don't know how she didn't smell the pussy on my face. The doctor, if he noticed, kept it to himself. He looked, shone a light, noted it down, stamped the papers, and sent the pirate home with an eye patch.
The bill for all the lies with the priest piled up, since Mariana and I recited the same bullshit without blinking.
So what did I actually have in my eye? Traumatic hyphema. It's not "basically," it's literally blood inside the eye. Go ahead and say I've got "blood in my peeper." Treatment: a bag of meds, a stuck-on patch, and total rest for five days, which could turn into over two weeks. With a chance of a permanent mark. Courtesy of Mariana, who can't handle getting eaten out without turning into a jackhammer.
Getting serious now, it was bad. I could've gone blind or barely avoided surgery, but the recovery was smooth, and my whole family took turns making sure I wasn't alone for a single minute—even the relatives I hated showed up all sheepish to wish me well.
On one of those days, during Mariana's shift, we were lying on the couch in the living room, side by side, TV on low, talking even quieter so my mom wouldn't catch anything from the kitchen.
"Julia, what about the money from cleaning? You spend it?"
"No. It's saved up, believe me?" I craned my neck toward the kitchen to check on my mom and stepdad. "Uh, cousin, I'd give it back in a heartbeat and not do jack shit."
"We could spend it, though!" she perked up.
"Oh yeah, princess. I work and you blow it?"
"I'll clean with you." Her voice wasn't super confident; it was more like I'd do the work and she'd watch.
"Go by yourself so he can harass you all day. Go on."
She made a disgusted face.
"Yeah... there's that, huh?" She shrugged, but she was already scheming. "Weren't we gonna hit a motel with that money?"
I laughed. I'd always pictured the ridiculous scene of us two at a motel. But I wanted to.
"Babe, what if they ask for ID? What're you gonna show, that fake student card you use for half-price movie tickets?"
Mariana made that pissed-off face, but she didn't drop the idea.
"What if we bought a vibrator?"
I laughed and my eye throbbed.
"Don't make me laugh, fuck."
"Sorrrry!"
"I'll say it's a good idea, huh! You got your phone? Look it up." Half a dozen models I'd seen popped into my head right away.
She thought for a second and her smile dropped.
"But, Jully, how do we get it delivered? Your mom's home all day. At my place, anyone opens the boxes."
"Shit... we're screwed." It came out in a sigh.
While she had fun clicking through sex shop ads, I was only thinking one thing: there was someone who'd receive it, bring it to me, and if I pushed, even pay for the damn thing.
"Fuck, Jully..." I thought, with two devils on my shoulders. No angels work here.
"Mariana, just pick one. I know how to get this easy."
"How?" she asked, all curious. "Diana? She doesn't even reply to you."
Mariana wouldn't shut up until I named a name, so I made up some story to get her off my back. The truth? I was already rehearsing asking my stepdad to buy it and deliver it. Price in "service": a pic of me using it or a short video. He's seen worse.
Just thinking about it gave me that good chill. Anxiety through the roof, pure adrenaline. That dumb urge to do something stupid "just to see what happens." Me biting my nail and chewing over ideas, Mariana throwing a thousand models in my face, and me frozen thinking about what he'd want in return and if it was worth it. We'd agreed "nothing physical," and that gave me some ballsy courage to mess around with him.
"MOOOMMMM!" I yelled from the living room; she was two steps away in the kitchen.
"What is it, girl, why are you yelling?" she said in her usual mood.
"Next week, am I cleared for physical stuff?"
My mom grumbled something, my stepdad laughed and chimed in:
"Seriously, Julia. Chill out. You're supposed to rest, and you're already thinking about partying?"
Mariana heard, lifted her head like a meerkat.
"What's partying, auntie?"
"Shut up, Mariana!"
"Oh, Mom, see? I only asked because I wanna get over to my stepdad's house and do that cleaning gig, right?"
My mom came over to my side, disbelieving, her bad mood turning to sarcasm.
"What hell did the demon come from that possessed my daughter's body, now wanting to do 'cleaning'?"
I sat up straighter, crossed my legs on the couch. Mariana copied me, of course.
"It's just, Mom, I need some cash to buy stuff. If I do this one, he'll call me for another after."
If I'd slapped her across the face, she wouldn't have been more shocked than hearing that from my mouth. From the kitchen, my stepdad let out:
"See? Entrepreneurial girl."
"And you, you bum, shut up. Since when is cleaning 'entrepreneurial' shit?" my mom shot back at him, mocking with air quotes on entrepreneurial.
Whether it is or isn't entrepreneurship, nobody's brave enough to argue with my mom. She was mumbling like she was talking to herself. Until she burst:
"And what do you want money for? You don't pay for shit in this house."
"She wants to take me to a motel, auntie?" Mariana, clueless, threw gas on the fire.
I could taste the metallic tang of my mom's imaginary punch in my mouth. But the one who surprised me was her.
She burst out laughing.
Laughed so hard she started coughing, and my stepdad had to bring her water. The laughing fit ended with her on the phone calling my aunt to tell her what Mariana had just said—I bet my aunt thought it was the funniest thing, 'cause the kitchen was cracking up. But if they knew even half the story, maybe they wouldn't laugh so much.
I got up to pee quick so Mariana wouldn't follow, and I took my phone. On the toilet, with my eye burning and the screen flashing, I typed all crooked.
"Hey! Put batteries in it. Wanna buy something and have it delivered to your place. Mom can't know."
Sent.
"What is it?"—his reply.
I could've made up a thousand things, but why, when I could tempt the devil!
"A delicious vibrator."—I swear I typed it while saying it to myself with slow pleasure.
The reply came dry, with full address, zip code, name, and his SSN for the receipt.
"Buy it and send it there."
Now I wanted it for free. I took a deep breath, let the pee finish, wiped, and wrote.
"I want you to pay... if that's cool."
Took two seconds.
"Depends. If I pay, you gonna pick it up?"
My heart slammed in my throat. I bit my lip, smelled the bathroom—bleach—and a stupid courage climbed up my legs with the horniness.
"Yeah. But I wanna grab it at the gate."—I said, dodging, playing sweet ass.
He typed. Stopped. Typed again. My ass clenched and my hand sweated.
"My offer: You do a test drive in front of me. And I'll even buy it for you, just send the model. And who knows, maybe I'll grab a few other toys too?"
I laughed alone in the bathroom. The urge to fuck around rumbling inside me, and my pussy starting to drip.
"I'll think about it, okay?"
Three dots. Silence. More three dots.
"Send the model. I'll pay. You know the price."
I pocketed the phone and left the bathroom with my head buzzing. I stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked toward the living room.
"Mariana, now that you've ruined our motel plans, we'll have to settle for our room." I said it looking at my mom so she'd know it was a joke. "Head upstairs, girl!"
Mariana ran past, fake-blowing passionate kisses my way.
My mom made her last lame joke, we said goodnight, and I headed to my room.