Unspoken Answers

Jake pulled up to the curb in front of Renee’s house just as the sun began to sink below the skyline. The soft orange glow brushed his face as she stepped outside, her hair pinned loosely, a dress hugging her in all the right ways. Jake stepped out and opened the passenger door before she could even reach for the handle. “Thank you,” she said with a blush, not used to the gesture. The car ride into town was mostly quiet, save for the hum of the engine and the occasional glance they stole at one another. Renee’s stomach churned—not from nerves exactly, but something deeper. Excitement? Anticipation?

When they pulled into the parking lot of a French restaurant with string lights adorning the entrance and vines curling up the walls, Renee felt her stomach flip again. “Why did he bring me here?” she wondered silently. “Is this... a date?” Jake looked at her, smiled faintly, and turned off the car. “You ready?” She nodded before she could form words. As she reached for her door handle, Jake was already there, opening it for her. The moment felt surreal, and the tension that followed them into the restaurant wrapped around her like a second skin. “Welcome to L’Amour sur la Jetée, do you have a reservation tonight?” the host asked politely. Jake gave his name, and they were led to a private booth tucked away in the back, just secluded enough to see the rest of the room but not be seen clearly themselves. Renee’s cheeks flushed as she glanced around. It felt too intimate to be casual. She sat across from Jake, trying to focus on the menu rather than the butterflies in her stomach. Jake broke the silence.

“What would you like to drink?” He handed her an impressively long menu. Her eyes widened when she noticed the whiskey section. “Do they have anything Irish?” she asked, handing it back. Jake chuckled and pointed to a section in the back. “A few, yeah.”

“Pick one. I trust your taste,” she said, flashing a small smile. “Even if it’s strong and bitter.” He raised a brow. “Strong and bitter might just be your type.” She laughed softly as he ordered the drinks and a sampler plate. When the waiter returned, he placed a bottle of aged Irish whiskey on the table. “You ordered the whole bottle?” she gasped, laughing. “Are we planning to survive the night?” Jake poured their drinks with a wink. “Guess we’ll see.” As the conversation turned to the upcoming move, Renee admitted her worries about uprooting the kids again and starting fresh in a new town. Jake listened intently, letting her speak freely.

“You know,” he said eventually, “I think no matter how this opportunity came to you... it's a second chance. Maybe even the beginning you didn’t know you needed.” The weight of his words hung in the air. Renee reached for her drink, but her hand brushed his instead. His fingers closed around hers, warm and firm. She looked up, startled by the softness in his eyes. Her voice caught in her throat. Jake gently pulled her closer, sliding into her side of the booth. “I know it’s sudden,” he whispered, “but I’ll miss you.” She didn’t mean to kiss him. It just happened. Her lips met his, tentative at first—then deeper, slower, full of want. She leaned back, unsure if she had misread the moment.

But Jake didn’t hesitate. His hand moved to her knee, then slid up her thigh, inching beneath the hem of her dress. Renee’s breath caught. “What are you doing?” she whispered, panicked, but not stopping him. “No one can see us. And if they hear... well, that’s up to you.” She laughed softly, breathlessly. “You wouldn’t try to make me be loud on purpose, would you?”

Jake didn’t answer. He slipped his hand higher, brushing the fabric of her underwear aside, and touched her exactly where she needed it. She gasped, her body trembling beneath his fingertips. The tablecloth provided just enough cover, but the risk was intoxicating.

He teased her, alternating between light pressure and withdrawal, circling her clit, bringing her closer but never over the edge. Her legs trembled beneath the table. “Jake...” she moaned softly, biting her lip, trying to stay quiet. Without warning, he slipped one finger inside her, his thumb still working her in tandem. Her head dropped back. “Oh my God, Jake,” she whimpered, her voice just loud enough to make her nervous. He leaned in and whispered, “You’re perfect like this.” Renee’s entire body clenched. Just when she was about to finish, he pulled away. She blinked in confusion as he reached for his wallet and adjusted himself.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, standing up and leaving her flustered and half-dizzy. She sat frozen, trying to slow her breathing and process what had just happened. Was he done? Or... was something more coming? She finished her drink, staring at the bottle, when Jake returned and grabbed it with one hand—and her hand with the other. “Let’s go,” he said, voice low, firm. Outside, they said nothing as they drove. Jake’s knuckles were tight around the wheel, but not in anger—more like restraint.

When he pulled into a long driveway, Renee’s eyes widened. The house was beautiful: two stories tall, black and gray exterior, sitting atop a small hill. Isolated. Private.

“This is beautiful,” she said, finally breaking the silence. Jake didn’t reply, just parked, stepped out, and opened her door.

“Thank you,” was all he said as he led her to the front door. Renee barely had time to look around before Jake pressed her against the entryway wall, kissing her hard. His hands fumbled with her dress, and hers clung to his arms. She could barely breathe between moans as he pushed two fingers back inside her. Her legs nearly gave out.

“Jake, please...” she whispered. With a growl in his throat, he picked her up and carried her up the stairs. He didn't stop pleasuring her, fingers thrusting with steady pressure, never losing rhythm. “How is he this good?” she wondered, clinging to his shoulders. Her moans echoed off the stairwell, the air thick with anticipation. Her climax was near—again—but Jake stopped, making her groan in frustration. He laid her on the bed and tore her dress in one motion. It fluttered to the floor like petals. She gasped, covering her belly. She hated this part of herself—her stretch marks, her softness.

But Jake leaned in, kissed each mark, each scar. His eyes saw beauty where she saw flaws. “You’re gorgeous, Renee,” he whispered. Her heart caught in her throat. Then his lips traveled lower, worshipping her with every kiss. He circled her belly button, then dipped between her thighs. Her breath hitched as his mouth replaced his hands, tongue dancing in circles, teasing and tasting until her moans became cries. She tried to hold back, tried to stay quiet, but Jake gave her no escape. He wanted her loud. Honest. Unfiltered. And Renee gave in.

As her thighs tightened around his shoulders, her whole body surged with release—and for the first time in a long time, she felt alive. Just as she caught her breath, Jake looked up, lips glistening, eyes dark.

“We’re not finished,” he said, standing to unbuckle his pants.