Baumgartner Generations: Henry

Chapter Six

Thanks to an unseasonably warm week in December, the ice in the rink was far too slushy for Henry’s liking, but he wouldn’t have cared if he’d had to skate on water-under Professor Franklin’s tutelage, he was now passing English, off academic probation, and most importantly, the coach had put him on the ice for an actual game!

He thought things couldn’t get any better when he scored his first official college hockey goal-a gorgeous shot that slipped into the five-hole like it had been meant to be-until he saw Libby in the stands. He wouldn’t have seen her if the camera hadn’t panned in on her reaction to the goal and showed it on the screen high above-she was standing and actually dancing in the aisles, her red hair like a beacon the cameraman obviously couldn’t resist.

Henry couldn’t either.

He actually stumbled getting back onto the bench, taking the congratulations from his teammates with a distracted smile, scanning the rink for Libby, finally finding her, still standing in the aisle and waving. At him. He raised his hand, grinning like a fool. It was the first time he’d seen her since that night in the hot tub. He’d called her several times and she hadn’t returned any of them. Had she been coming to games all along? He continued to give her the tickets he’d promised, slipping them under her dorm room door in an envelope, hoping to run into her in the hallway, but he never had.

He usually gave her both tickets, but today he’d given another one to Professor Franklin. His parents hadn’t made it up for a game-he kept putting them off, embarrassed to tell them he’d been benched. But he’d given a ticket to her just that day as they sat in the late afternoon sunshine, working on Henry’s worst nemesis-phonemes.

He’d tried subtlety. “Do you like hockey?”

“Henry, you’re distracting yourself.”

He’d sighed. “I just wondered if you wanted to see me play. My parents can’t make it.”

“Funny, I was going to ask if you wanted to see a movie tonight.” She had smiled when he blinked at her in surprise. They saw a lot of each other lately, but they’d never seen each other outside of a school-type setting. The idea intrigued him. “It’s foreign. Subtitled. I thought it would be a good experience for you.”

“Oh.” Another learning experience. Go figure. “What time?”

“Show starts at nine.”

“We can go after,” he’d suggested slyly. “The game starts at five.”

“It’s a deal then.” She’d agreed, putting a white sheet of paper in front of him with one word on it. “Now, what is that word?”

“Volcano.”

“Look again.” Toni-she’d insisted he start calling her Toni if they were going to work together four times a week-had put a clear blue-tinted sheet over the page. For some reason, the change in color helped him shift his focus.

“Tornado,” he’d corrected himself, shaking his head. “Why do I do that? I’m so stupid.”

“No you’re not. You’re just dyslexic.”

“Which means stupid,” he’d countered.

“Did you know Thomas Edison was dyslexic?” No, he hadn’t known. Every time he put himself down, she always managed to find a way to build him back up. “So was Albert Einstein.”

“Really? Mr. E Equals M.C. Squared?”

She’d laughed. “Your memory is amazing sometimes.”

“Yeah, and then I can’t tell the difference between a volcano and a tornado,” he’d grumbled.

“You know the difference,” she’d insisted. “You just have a hard time with the symbols that represent the things.”

He’d beamed at her. “Hey, maybe someday, some tutor will tell another guy like me, ‘You know Henry Baumgartner, the famous hockey player? He was dyslexic.’”

“Anything’s possible,” Toni had agreed, turning his focus back to the work at hand.

She was a slave driver sometimes, but she claimed he’d gone from a third-grade reading level to a sixth-grade one in just the short time they’d been working together. He’d even managed to write his own paper for her class, and she’d been willing to give him an oral exam separately from the rest, which he’d passed with a ninety-six percent. He understood theme and symbolism in The Great Gatsby perfectly well if he didn’t have to spell it.

Now Henry sat enjoying the fruits of his labor, his first goal of the year showing on the scoreboard above, the woman who was responsible for his progress sitting proudly in the stands, and now there was Libby, too, sharing the moment. He wished he could go talk to her, ask her why she hadn’t called. It was probably a roommate thing, he’d long ago decided. Elaine wouldn’t talk to him-was probably mad he’d gone after Libby. And Libby probably just felt a normal loyalty toward her roommate in the whole thing. It put him in an impossible position.

Libby’s not here just to see you, he reminded himself, secretly hoping she was.

Her presence buoyed him so much he scored again on the very next shift, carrying the momentum of the goal he’d made just five minutes earlier. He felt the pass coming to him long before it was on his stick. He had sensed it coming moments before, when they were all tussling in front of their own net on the other end of the ice. He didn’t know how he knew, couldn’t explain the incredible body awareness he experienced on the ice, but he could anticipate, not only his own teammates’ moves, but the opposing team’s as well, with eerie accuracy.

That’s how he knew to put a rush of speed on toward the net, sensing a defenseman in red moving in behind him but he would be unable to check or block Henry-he was too fast. There was a pass coming from the right, unseen but coming anyway, and he put his stick out for it, stopping the puck’s trajectory without another thought and not even looking at the net before pulling back to take the shot.

The puck went in over the shoulder, the goalie twisting to get it, upended, staying there on his ass, winded and cursing himself for missing the shot, as Henry howled and pumped his fist in the air. The four of his teammates who were on the ice surrounded him, cheering and jostling and there was more of that again at shift change, guys slapping him on the back, the coach giving him an approving wink.

They won the game two to one, and both his team’s goals belonged to him.

He was flying by the time they headed off the ice toward the showers, and then Libby was waiting for him. How she’d managed it, he didn’t know, but she was standing outside the locker room, hugging herself against the cold and smiling. He wanted to put his arms around her to warm her up. Hell, he just wanted to put his arms around her.

“Hi Henry.”

His teammates trudged by him, admiring the girl he stopped to talk to. “Hey.”

Just be casual, he told himself, taking off his helmet and tucking it under his arm. His heart was thumping like a rabbit’s.

“I just wanted to say great game.” She had to crane her neck way up at him because his skates gave him several inches in height.

“Thanks.” He couldn’t help smiling, even though the expression felt too big and goofy on his face. “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Busy.”

“Yeah, me too.” They just stood there. Smiling. It was kind of awkward, but then again, it wasn’t. Henry said the first thing he could think of. “How’s the library?”

She laughed. “Still standing.”

“Well that’s always a plus.” Henry couldn’t keep his eyes off her and tried to make conversation so his staring wouldn’t seem so obvious. “Seen any good vampire movies lately?”

“No, I haven’t been out to a movie since…” It was the first time her gaze shifted away from his. “Well, I’ve been busy.”

Impulsively, he took a chance. “Want to go?” When she didn’t answer, he pushed ahead, ignoring the vibe she was putting off, hoping it was just nervousness. “To a movie?”

A movie. That reminded him that Toni was taking him to a movie after the game and he had to get into the shower. For some reason, the thought made him feel guilty, as if he was betraying someone. Going out with Toni, even just to some artsy education movie, excited him. He couldn’t even say why, and wouldn’t have admitted it out loud to anyone, especially Libby. But it was the truth.

“What’s playing?” Libby asked.

He shrugged, his grin widening. “I don’t have a clue.”

“I don’t know, Henry. I just don’t think it’s a good idea.” Libby sighed when she saw him frown. “Maybe…maybe after we get back? I’m going home for break. My parents live in North Carolina.”

“That’s far.” Henry was already ridiculously planning the road trip in his head.

“Anyway, I’ve gotta run.” She reached out and touched his arm. He couldn’t feel much through all the padding and she must have known it because she found his wrist, bare skin between his glove and his jersey, squeezing there. “I just wanted to tell you…great game.”

He tried to think of something to make her stay, watching her retreating form, and called out, “So I’ll see you January?”

“I’ll be here.” She waved back at him and then disappeared around the corner.

The Michigan Theater was hardly crowded, even on a weekend. Art movies, especially foreign, were popular in a college town, but this was an old one. “An oldie but a goodie” as Toni had said. Henry had vaguely heard of it, but had never seen it.

Toni picked their seats, somewhere in the middle, and there was only one other couple in the place besides them.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to follow this,” Henry admitted in a low voice. The screen was black-no previews or pre-show garbage to clutter it up. It was eerily quiet.

“You’ll do fine. It has a real story.” She shrugged out of her coat and he admired the way her skirt rode up when she crossed her legs and turned toward him, revealing the tight hug of her brown suede boots around her slender calves. “It doesn’t jump around like a video game.”

“You’ve seen it?”

She laughed, a sound that was as familiar to Henry now as breathing. Although at one point, he never would have thought the dragon-lady was capable of laughing. “I think it was required viewing when I was in college.”

“So what did you think of the game?” He tried to sound casual, but he really wanted to hear her opinion. He’d asked her to come to the game for a reason. He’d wanted her to see, wanted her to understand how important it was to him.

“I was impressed.” Her face changed and he could see she really meant it. “I can see why you got a scholarship.”

He felt his chest swell with pride, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he pretended to be watching the couple sitting near the front of the theater. The next words she spoke made him actually flush and he was glad the lights were dim.

“You’re quite an amazing young man.”

He didn’t have any idea what to say. For some reason, he didn’t want her to know how much it pleased him. “You sound like my mother.”

“Well, we can’t have that.” Toni chuckled. “So tell me something…” She sat back in the red plush seat and he noticed her skirt riding up higher. The woman almost always wore skirts and it just accentuated her most astounding features. It was maddening. Henry knew damned well he shouldn’t be looking, or even thinking about it. But he did. He was. “Who was the girl?”

The question got him to stop focusing on her knees. “What girl?”

She raised her eyebrows. “The pretty redhead who waved to you.”

“You saw that?” He flushed with the memory.

She glanced sideways at him. “The whole stadium saw that.”

“She’s just a friend,” he insisted, sounding more defensive than he wanted to.

She didn’t respond verbally but he saw that press of her lips and knew for some reason she wasn’t happy with his answer. It made no sense at all, but he felt guilty on two counts-as if he was somehow betraying Libby by being here. Back when he was with Libby, he’d felt as if he was betraying Toni, and he wasn’t actually involved with either woman! It made his head hurt.

“Toni…” he started. She turned to him, her dark eyes even darker in the dim light. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Something to bridge the sudden gap between them. He finally said something he hoped would convey to her what it meant to him, everything she had done and continued to do. “Thanks for coming.”

“You’re welcome.” She touched his hand, briefly. As the lights began to go down, she leaned over, murmuring, “Are you ready for this?”

He shrugged, sinking down into his seat. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He was afraid it was all going to go too fast for him to keep up, but Toni was right-it had a linear storyline that didn’t jump all over the place. It started out with some girl wanting to rent the same apartment as some guy in Paris-but all of a sudden they were having sex in it. That, he figured, had to be the “tango” part of The Last Tango in Paris.

He’d seen Marlon Brando in Streetcar Named Desire in high school. This Marlon Brando was older, meatier. But the girl? He didn’t know who she was, but she reminded him a great deal of a young version of Toni-big dark eyes and long dark hair and legs that went on for-fucking-ever.

It was making him think things. Things he definitely shouldn’t be thinking. He watched Brando and the girl rolling around on the floor, feeling his cock starting to get hard. Although, he didn’t know if he was actually reacting to the movie or to the heat of Toni’s thigh against his in the dark.

Brando was mauling the girl on screen, pressing her into a wall in the empty apartment. The guy was old enough to be her father, for god’s sake. And that just made him consider Toni more, how she had been a neighbor all along, living right around the block, someone who had spent evenings hanging out playing cards with his parents. She was his mom’s age.

Henry gulped, watching the screen, trying to concentrate. There weren’t any words, just grunts and moans. Next to him, Toni uncrossed her legs, her thigh brushing his jean-clad one. He could see her knees, exposed, the shape of her body in the seat, lean but curvy. Sexy.

Stop it, he told himself. It was seeing Libby, he reasoned, after the amazing game he’d played, that had him feeling so excited. He was just still flying high, and the presence of the woman beside him was nothing but a physical reminder.

Henry tore his eyes away from his professor’s legs, back to the movie. Christ, they were going at it! The girl on screen moaned, arching, and he didn’t need subtitles to figure out what was going on. It made him squirm in his seat, feeling Toni shift beside him.

When she leaned in to ask, “Does this make you uncomfortable?” he actually jumped.

He glanced at her, then back at the screen. “Sort of.”

“Why?” She was close enough he could feel her breath against his cheek

“Because you’re here,” he admitted.

“Why does that make a difference?” Her words were soft, whispered, hot against his skin.

“I don’t know.” He wanted to say what he was really thinking, how much the girl on the screen reminded him of a younger version of her, but he didn’t dare. He couldn’t tell her the truth-that watching two people having sex on-screen made him think about her, imagining…well…

“I think you do,” she insisted and he stiffened when he felt her hand on his knee, squeezing gently. This wasn’t happening. That’s what he told himself, seeing the sex scene was over. He still couldn’t breathe.

Instead of saying anything, he mirrored her, putting his own hand on her knee, squeezing. He felt her tense and glanced up to see her looking not at the screen, but at his hand on her leg.

“Henry.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she met his eyes in the darkness.

“Sorry,” he said. But his hand moved on its own, nudging her skirt up to mid-thigh.

“Don’t apologize.”

Her thigh was bare. He was touching skin and could feel the heat of her. Crazy. That was all that registered in his brain. This was crazy. Not happening. A dream.

But it wasn’t. Her skin was like silk. And the hand on his was massaging gently. “What are we doing?” he breathed.

He heard her swallow, saw her throat work when she did, before she whispered, “That’s a good question.”

“Toni…” He turned toward her, seeing her lick her lips, watching her mouth glistening in the light and shadow.

“You’re not paying attention to the movie,” she said, gazing up at the screen as if she was actually focused there.

She wasn’t wearing stockings. He couldn’t think about anything else. “What movie?”

“You should pay attention,” she admonished him, but her hand was inching upward. It was nearing his crotch.

His gaze dipped down to the V of her button-down blouse. Her breasts had to be her second-best feature, full and round. She wore her clothes in the latest fashion, dark colored bras with light colored blouses, and it only accentuated them more. “I can’t.”

“What’s distracting you?” She was trying to stay in teacher-mode, asking all the right questions. Part of his issue with reading was staying focused, not letting the outside world get in the way. But it wasn’t the outside world that was the problem, and she damned well knew it, he was sure of that fact. He couldn’t quite believe it, but he couldn’t deny the hand nudging against the inseam of his jeans.

“You’re distracting me.” He whispered the words against the soft shell of her ear, feeling the tickle of her hair against his nose. “What would you say if I told you…”

His hand moved up on her thigh and he felt her clench, heard her gasp, but she half-turned toward him, shifting in her chair. “If you told me what…?”

“If I told you…” His lips moved against her cheek as he spoke.

“Henry…” Her voice turned to pleading.

“I just…” He closed his eyes, breathing in her scent. She was so close in the dark, he could feel her breath, coming too fast. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

She turned her head toward him.“About what?”

“Kissing you.” That wasn’t all he was thinking about. Not by a long shot. But it was a start. He felt the corner of her mouth against his lips, could almost taste her.

“So do it,” she breathed, turning and capturing his mouth with hers, the kiss hitting him with a force he hadn’t known possible.

Touching his lips to hers was like completing a high voltage electrical current. His whole body came alive with energy. Toni made a small noise in her throat, maybe a protest, he wasn’t sure, but then she slid a hand behind his neck, pulling him in closer, her mouth opening to take the eager probe of his tongue.

“Henry,” she panted, breaking the kiss, but he couldn’t stop himself. His hand was wedged up under her skirt, the heat radiating from between her thighs. He felt her giving in, her body slowly melting against his in the dark, and he kissed her again, not giving her the chance to say yes or no, not giving either of them a chance to think at all.

“Henry, wait. Stop.” This time, when she broke off the kiss, panting almost as hard as he was, she pushed him gently away, pulling her skirt down to cover her legs. “Not here.”

He groaned softly, seeing she meant business. She was straightening her clothes, smoothing out her skirt. He turned his face up toward the screen, sliding down in his seat and trying to ignore the aching throb of his cock.

“Toni,” he whispered, nudging her with his knee.

“Shhh.” Her hand pressed against his thigh, squeezing. “Watch the movie.”

He tried. He really did. But she didn’t move her hand away. Instead she began inching it slowly upward and he held his breath, his eyes half-closed and glazed over. He didn’t know how long it took for her to reach his crotch. Half an hour? An hour? It was an agonizingly slow progression, but he didn’t dare move. On the screen, Brando and the girl had found a myriad of ways to have sex, only making things worse off-screen. Henry was so turned on he thought he just might come in his pants when he felt her long, red fingernails graze over his erection through his jeans.

When he pressed his hips up toward her hand, he heard her swallow, her palm resting now against his zipper. Her face was turned toward the screen, as if the movie and whatever Brando was doing with a stick of butter was the most interesting thing she’d ever seen, but she was exploring the outline of his cock with her fingers in the dark. He wanted to touch her, too, but he didn’t want to break the spell they were under, was too afraid she would stop, say no.

He let out a soft cry when she rubbed her thumb over the head of his dick through the denim. She shifted in her seat, crossing and uncrossing her legs, and he could hear her breath coming faster, almost as fast as his. He let his knees fall further open, feeling her thigh brush his. Her sweet, bare leg. He glanced down and saw that her skirt was up, far up over her knees, up the long, slim expanse of her thigh.

She was too sexy for words.

His eyes searched for her hemline, but it just kept going up and up, the folds of her skirt finally tucked into the V of her crotch. It was then that he realized where her other hand was. The thought of her touching herself, right there next to him in the dark, made his cock swell in response. He slowly covered her hand, the one cupping his erection, with his own. She whimpered when he did that and he saw her close her eyes as he rocked up against her, with her.

Then she searched for and found his zipper. She inched it down, not even unsnapping his jeans, just sliding her hand into the opening to feel him through his boxers. This is really happening, he realized, closing his eyes as her nails grazed his balls through his shorts before her fingers found his shaft, rubbing up and down.

“Toni…”

“Shhhh…” She teased him mercilessly and he stayed right there on the edge of exploding, and she still hadn’t even touched his bare flesh. He was pure sensation, letting her carry him away and then bring him back, stopping, starting, stopping again. She kept him panting and wanting more for what felt like hours.

Finally, on the screen, Brando was collapsing. The movie was ending and he had no idea what had happened. The credits were rolling, and Toni reluctantly removed her hand from his lap, pulling her skirt back down as the lights came up. Henry fumbled with his zipper, half-sitting, his cock like a steel bar stuck down his pants, making it difficult to move.

“So what did you think?”

Henry blinked at her as she shrugged on her coat. Of what? The handjob tease? You masturbating? She couldn’t possibly mean the movie. But she did.

“Could you follow it?”

“No.” He gulped, standing and pressed against her as they moved down the aisle, his voice hoarse. “But it wasn’t because of the subtitles.”

She didn’t speak as they walked out to her car. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t quite know how. He certainly wasn’t up to making small talk and clearly she wasn’t either. The ride back to his dorm was silent. She didn’t even turn on the radio.

When she pulled up in front of Mosher-Jordan hall, she put the car in park and turned to him in the darkness. “Henry, we shouldn’t do this.”

“I know.” Of course he knew. It was a million degrees of wrong and getting hotter by the second. There was no way they should have let anything happen in the first place, and going forward was impossible. Dangerous, even.

“I’m the adult here.” She surveyed the front window where a group of guys walked by. “I… should know better.”

Henry bristled. “I’m not a little kid.”

“So I noticed.” She turned to touch his cheek, rubbing her thumb against his jaw line.

“But I don’t think…” Henry caught her hand in his, frowning. “I don’t think I can pretend like nothing happened.” He slid her hand down to his lap and her lower lip caught between her teeth

Then she let him press her palm against his aching crotch, and breathed, “I don’t think I can either.”

He leaned in and did what he wanted to, the very thing he knew he shouldn’t, and kissed her. Toni let him-she let him touch her, slipping his hand under her coat, cupping her breast through her blouse, feeling the hardening press of her nipple through the fabric. She whimpered when he did that, trying to move in closer to him, although the gear shift was in the way.

“Oh, Toni,” he groaned when her hand found him, rubbing him through the fabric of his jeans, hot, delicious friction. “I want you so bad.”

“Wait,” she gasped. “Wait.”

He rested his head against her shoulder, breathing hard. “I know.”

“Henry, you should go.” Her voice sounded pained, but her hand didn’t stop what it was doing between his legs.

“I know. I know,” he agreed, squeezing her breast, so full and heavy in his hand, even through her bra.

“Please,” she begged, starting to move away. He let her go, watching as she started straightening her clothing for the third time that night. “Before I…before we…”

Henry reached for the door handle, pulling on it. “Okay, I’m going.”

“Goodnight,” she said softly, but he didn’t stop to say anything. He didn’t say goodnight or see you Monday, which was when they had their next appointment in her office. If he’d stopped to say something, he would have just stayed. They would have gone somewhere, and things would have happened that neither of them could have lived with. She had begged him to go, and he’d done as she asked.

That’s the thought he consoled himself with as he opened his dorm room door.

“Great game!” Dean greeted him with a high five from his bed, his laptop open in front of him.

“Thanks.” Henry had almost forgotten about the game. He shed his coat and kicked off his shoes, flopping face down on his bed.

“So how was the movie?”

Henry raised his head. “Artsy.” He’d told Dean he was going out to see the film-he just hadn’t mentioned who with. “Hey, guess who I saw at the game?”

“Libby.” Dean laughed at Henry’s incredulous look. “It was televised, remember?”

“Did you know she was from North Carolina?” Henry asked. “She’s going home for Christmas.”

“I can’t wait for break.” Dean grimaced as his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his jeans pocket. “Fuck.”

“Who is it?”

“Study group.” Dean flipped open the phone. He didn’t even say hello. He just listened. Finally, he said, “I told you, after the break.”

Henry watched as his roommate got up and began pacing back and forth between the two twin beds. Dean had supposedly been meeting with a calculus “study group” twice a week, although Henry figured it had to be a cover for something. A new girlfriend maybe. He wasn’t sure.

“I know. I know!” Dean turned away from him, walking toward the window. “I said I would.”

Henry took the opportunity to slide the box out from under the bed. The Fleshlight was there, ready and waiting and always willing. His cock jumped at the sight of it. After tonight’s marathon tease, which he still couldn’t quite believe had been real, he was going to make good use of it. Dean was still talking in hushed tones by the window.

“I’m gonna take a shower.” Henry headed for the bathroom, but Dean didn’t even hear him. He was too involved on the phone.

Henry stood under the pounding hot needling spray, working his cock slowly into the silky, ribbed flesh of the silicone cunt in his hand, and tried to think of Libby. He always thought of Libby. He’d even stopped fantasizing about Val. They talked on the phone all the time and she was becoming too good of a friend for him to consider her that way anymore. Instead, it was Libby he always imagined in his mind’s eye at times like this. Thinking of anyone else felt wrong.

But tonight he didn’t. He couldn’t get Toni out of his mind. She had eclipsed everything else-he could still taste her on his lips, feel her long fingernails scratching against his cock, see the sweet bare silk of her thigh.

He wanted her. He’d never wanted anything or anyone more-even Libby, he realized guiltily. His brain wanted to debate, argue with him, back and forth, but his cock didn’t lie. The more he thought of Toni, the harder he got. It was Toni he was fucking, the hot swell of her ass he was grabbing, her breasts he was pressing his face in between.

“Oh!” he cried, balancing the edge of the Fleshlight against the soap tray, leaning his hand on it to steady it. He imagined her there with him, bent over in the shower, her dark hair thick and wet and curling against her bare back. He saw her reaching behind, spreading herself for him, giving him her pussy, the red length of her nails digging into her own skin as he fucked her. He couldn’t get the thought out of his head and had reached the point where he didn’t even want to try.

He gave himself into it, thrusting deep, the ridged core of the silicone pussy urging him on, the memory of her flesh too compelling for him to stop. Henry let himself go, taking her in his mind, something he had refused to allow before, crossing a line he had drawn for himself even in fantasy, and at the final moment of his climax, he collapsed, still thrusting into Toni’s hot flesh and helplessly calling out her name again and again.