Not the Boy I Was

Joey opened the front door and stepped into his house, his mother at his side, her fingers interwoven with his own. The ride back from their tryst at the hotel was a far different ride than he'd ever taken with his mom before. Most of the ride he hadn't even thought of her as his mother. She had become something, someone, else. Donna. His... well, Joey didn't exactly know what she was.

He knew what she wanted to be, though.

"I can't wait to see what the girls did to the house, husband," she said on the ride, that last word said slowly, as if she was tasting it, enjoying the feel in her mouth.

"Do you need to stop for anything on the way home, husband?" she said again, as they passed a strip mall.

"Oh my, is that for me? You're insatiable, husband!" she said, her hand resting on his groin, softly squeezing his semi-hard penis.

It had all started with a mistake. The hotel clerk had used the word to try to understand their relationship. Donna, his mother, had taken it to heart. Earlier that week, Joey would have been horrified. Now, however, after their relationship had been so dramatically redefined, he was beginning to find it charming. Playful.

Sexy.

There was something about the idea of his identity, the boring, underachieving, unloved young man, being redefined as something exciting and needed. Husband. Joey's mother loved him so much that she wanted to carve out a spot in her life for him reserved for the best possible match, the best possible mate. And while it was coming in from an incredibly unorthodox place, he found himself caring less and less as time went on. The affection she poured out onto him went beyond making up for lost time in their **** parental relationship, it was helping him see himself as something new. He was beginning to see himself as lovable.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the change of light from outside, Joey could see that the entire house had transformed since that morning. Gold and white streamers curled down from the ceiling. The kitchen counter was stacked with snacks, bowls of chips, and a line of soda bottles like soldiers on parade. Someone had strung up lights—soft pink and amber bulbs that cast the living room in a dreamy, movie-set glow. The speakers near the TV were already buzzing with music, soft and pulsing, the calm before the storm.

Joey exhaled. His house, the same one that had felt too big and empty for years, was now alive. And the party hadn't even started yet.

"I’ll need to freshen up before your admirers arrive," Donna said, brushing her fingers down the front of her tight pink crop top. The fabric clung like a second skin to her curves, and her incredibly short shorts left little to the imagination. Even after their stroll by the river, that scandalously public breakfast, and their passionate time in the hotel, she still looked immaculate. Glossed lips, shimmering eyelids, and a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. What she had in mind when she said "freshen up" had his heart racing.

Releasing his hand, she pressed a slow kiss to his lips.

"Eliza and I will be upstairs," she whispered, her voice a sultry purr, "in the master bedroom. All night long, in case you get bored."

And then she vanished up the stairs with that swing in her hips that made Joey's thoughts spiral into heat and disbelief.

He barely had time to catch his breath before Eliza approached from the living room. She looked different now, but in a way that made his stomach flip. She wore what he'd picked out for her earlier that morning: a fantastically short skirt, a plunging top, and heels. Her neckline dipped low, showing enough freckled cleavage to make his brain misfire, and her long red hair—no longer bound in her usual bun—cascaded over her shoulders like silk. Her pale skin glowed, and her grey eyes were soft and adoring behind dark lashes.

She stepped close, hands folding against his chest as she leaned in. "I hope you two had fun, sir" she said in a meek voice, "but I missed you every second that you were gone."

Joey didn't wait. He wrapped his arms around the woman he had fallen surprisingly quickly for.

"I missed you, too."

He could see emotion well up in her eyes at his response.

"I did everything on your list," she said, wrapping her own arms around him, "I hope you're pleased."

"You were very good, I'm sure," Joey said, amazed at how easily he was getting into the dominant role with his teacher, "Now kiss me and head upstairs before someone arrives."

"Yes, sir," Eliza said, then kissed him softly, reverently. Then, after she released him, "And thank you." Her smile trembled slightly at the edges. "I'll leave the door locked. Knock when you're ready for us."

He nodded, watching her climb the stairs, the sight of her bare shoulders disappearing into shadow.

Joey stood alone in the hallway, the sound of his own pulse filling his ears, the pressure in his jeans reminding him of how strangely erotic his life had become. The scent of perfume, the memory of lips—he was drowning in it. He turned and made his way to his room to change. His hands were almost trembling. He had no idea how he was supposed to be the same boy he'd been just a week ago.

He showered quickly, splashing cold water on his face as if it would shock his thoughts back into order. Then he pulled on a clean white shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow, and a pair of dark jeans. He paused at the mirror. He still looked like Joey Granger—still had the same mop of brown hair, the same skinny frame. But he didn't feel like the old Joey. He felt important. He felt like someone who mattered.

As he adjusted his collar, a quiet question rose in the back of his mind: Where's Dad? He hadn't seen or heard from him since yesterday. Joey hadn't exactly gone looking, the two had never been close, but still… shouldn't he be around? Joey hoped that his mother had planned something, that his father wouldn't just come home in the middle of the party and discover a house of debauchery. He let the thought drift for now, but it clung to a corner of his mind. Another thing to pretend that he wasn't worried about.

By the time he stepped back out into the hallway, voices and laughter floated up from downstairs. Not party guests yet—just his girls.

The first person he saw was Indira.

She stood near the base of the stairs, a red Solo cup in her hand, one foot tucked behind the other. Joey's eyes widened. Gone was her usual modest, conservative vibe. Instead, she wore a cropped, sleeveless white top that hugged her unexpectedly large chest and showed off a slice of golden-brown stomach. Her tight low-rise jeans accentuated her narrow waist and round hips. A silver chain glinted around her neck, catching the lights.

She looked shy and self-conscious, like she wasn't sure she'd made the right fashion choice—and yet she couldn't stop glancing at him.

Joey stared. Indira Patel? He thought through the changes he'd accidentally given her, at least what he could remember. As far as he could tell she should be very supportive of the other women there, but he was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to cause her to be into him. But by the way she was looking at him, he had to wonder. The last time he'd really spoken to her, she'd made him feel two feet tall. She was smart, hard-working, intimidating. Cold. Judgemental. The kind of girl who rolled her eyes at jokes and stared holes through people who slacked off. This… this was not that girl.

When their eyes met, she bit her lower lip.

"Hey, Joey," she said, stepping closer. Her voice was warm, kind, and welcoming. "You look… wow."

He blinked. "You too."

Her smile twitched wider. "Yeah? I wasn't sure if this was too much."

"It's not," he said quickly, then flushed. "I mean—it looks great. You look great."

She giggled in a very non-Indira-Patel manner, brushing her hair behind one ear. "I don't know what's gotten into me tonight. I guess I just wanted to feel a little bold."

Before he could say more, a blur of motion tackled him from behind.

"Joey!" Madison squealed, wrapping her arms around his chest.

Aynsley was right behind her, grinning with perfect white teeth. "Took you long enough. We've been dying to see you."

They flanked him like a royal escort. Madison, radiant in a lilac sequin dress that barely reached mid-thigh, had her honey-blonde hair curled and pinned in waves over one shoulder. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and her lips were glossed in pale pink.

Aynsley, in contrast, looked like a dangerous angel. Her silver halter dress clung to her body like liquid metal, her warm-coloured skin glowing. The fabric dipped low in the front and bared her back entirely. Her long lashes framed dark eyes filled with adoration and fire.

Joey was caught between them, breathless.

"We're going to show you off to everyone," Madison said. "You're going to be the hottest guy here."

"And we're the hottest girls," Aynsley purred, looping her arm through his. "Which makes this a very fairytale evening."

Joey felt like he was living in a dream—or maybe a hallucination. Madison kissed his cheek, then Aynsley kissed the other. Their affection felt endless, unconditional. And overwhelming.

He wasn't used to this. To being cherished. To being theirs.

He glanced back at Indira.

She was watching them, her cup now forgotten in her hands. Slowly, almost hesitantly, she inched closer and mimicked Madison, laying a hand lightly on his arm.

"I didn't know you had so many… admirers," she said, voice playful, but eyes searching his face like she was trying to understand how the rules had changed.

Madison beamed. "Joey's kind of incredible."

"The best," Aynsley added. "We're just lucky he lets us love him."

Indira gave a little nod, like she was tucking that idea away for later.

Then the front door opened.

Heads turned.

Bianca stepped in.

Joey's heart stopped.

She looked like a goddess who had wandered into a suburban party by mistake. Her cinnamon skin glowed under the lights, and her dark hair was pulled into a high, voluminous ponytail that bounced with each step. She wore a black dress made of sheer panels and velvet stripes, which clung to her curves and offered glimpses of thigh, stomach, and the swell of her hips. Her legs stretched forever in strappy heels, and her eyes were lined in a catlike sweep that made her gaze feel like a weapon.

She saw Joey.

Crossed the room without hesitation.

And then she kissed him.

It wasn't a sweet kiss. It was a claiming. Her fingers curled into his shirt, and her body pressed against his. Her mouth opened against his with heat and hunger, and Joey's world tilted. He could hear gasps, feel eyes on them, but he didn't care. Bianca's lips had brought him back to his night with her, alone in her apartment, his first real sexual encounter. Had that really happened? Had an inexperienced young man like him been with a woman like this? Her tongue brushed his. Her perfume clouded his senses. When she finally pulled back, she whispered against his lips:

"I needed that."

Joey was dizzy. He barely noticed Indira biting her lip again, or Aynsley and Madison exchanging looks of breathless envy.

He didn't know how he was standing. He didn't know how he was supposed to talk to people, or smile for pictures, or make small talk.

All he knew was this:

He was loved.

He was seen.

And maybe, just maybe, he was finally becoming the man these incredible women believed he could be.

He turned toward the foyer as the doorbell rang. The first guest had arrived.

Joey took a breath, the girls still clinging to him.

Was he ready for this?