Page 86 of Slap Shot Surprise
That’s when I heard it. A soft knock on my door.
I froze. Had I imagined it?
No—there it was again. Three quiet little raps on the wood.
“Mabel?” I called out, quickly taking my hand off my dick.
“Yes,” she said through the door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” I sat up, my heart pounding. Hopefully, it was dark enough she wouldn’t notice how I’d bunched the covers over my crotch to hide my erection.
The door opened, and she appeared. She wore a long white T-shirt, giving her a ghostly appearance in the dark. “Hi.”
“Hi.” I swallowed hard.
“He’s moving again,” she said tentatively. “I thought maybe you’d want to feel?”
“Okay. I mean yes.”
She moved closer to the bed. “Is it okay if I...”
“Of course.”
She climbed onto the bed and sat back on her heels, her knees brushing my hip. Her buttery vanilla scent filled my head. Taking my hand, she pressed it to her belly, molding it beneath hers over the thin cotton shirt. I didn’t breathe or blink. Nothing happened.
“Shoot,” she said, sliding my hand to a new spot. “Now he’s not doing it. But a minute ago I was just lying there, and he was kicking away.”
“Maybe if you lie down the way you were?”
“Maybe.” She rearranged herself so she lay on her side, facing me, above the covers. “Okay, this is how I was.”
Rolling onto my side, I propped my head in one hand and reached out again. She took me by the wrist, and this time she slipped my hand beneath the shirt. Heat struck me like lightning as my palm rested on her bare skin. Beneath my hand, nothing happened.
Beneath the covers, my cock grew harder.
After a moment, she sighed. “You’re going to think I made it up,” she said, “but I swear he was dancing around in there when I was down the hall.”
“I believe you.”
She slid my hand higher on her belly, so high my fingers brushed the bottom of her breast.
Immediately I pulled my arm back. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
We lay there facing each other, our eyes locked. The silence between us lengthened into something tight and tense, something that threatened to snap.
Finally she spoke. “Were you asleep when I knocked?”
“No. I was just lying here thinking.”
“About what?”
What popped into my mind was not the kind of thing you said to a friend. “Stuff,” I said lamely.
“What kind of stuff?”
“I’m not sure I should tell you.”
