Jordan Knight Snapshots (Mature)

Soldier Boy Part III

Adding a few more bills to the ones Jordan had left on the table, I gathered my purse, put his hat in it, and headed for the door. My beat-up pink and yellow Volkswagen was waiting for me in the parking lot across the street and I warily made my way towards it, praying I could make it home and wherever our rendezvous was taking place before I ran out of gas. My trailer was over ten miles away and God only knew how far I'd have to drive to meet Jordan. But I was still going to wing it. No way in hell was I missing the opportunity to see him again or to see what he felt like inside of me. I'd park my dusty beetle and walk to him if I had to.

I inhaled a long breath and sucked in the cool night air before unlocking my car and climbing inside. I wished my radio worked so I could listen to music and quiet my nerves but the radio had stopped working some time ago. I was left alone with my rambling thoughts and raging hormones.

The car sputtered and shook for most of the twenty minute ride back to my house. It expelled black toxins both inside and outside the car. Covering my mouth to try to block the smell did not work. Every day I prayed to God I wouldn't one day die of lung cancer. Outside of struggling to breathe and stay alive, I thought of him. My thoughts were of Jordan and only Jordan. I wondered what kind of lover he would be. If he would be slow and thoughtful or wild and possessive. I hoped for the latter. I really wasn't in a slow and tender mood.

I pulled in my run-down trailer-park community and rolled up to the third trailer on the right, which was mine. I parked the car and almost ran to the door. After letting myself in, I began pulling my clothes off and made my way to the shower. As the hot water rained over my skin, I thought of Jordan. I imagined my hands were his hands. That he was running them all over me. That his tongue was licking me in my shower from my head to my toes. That his lips were sucking tenderly on my nipples and lapping feverishly on my clit. I had to fight myself not to masturbate. I wanted to save all my energy for him.

After getting out the shower, toweling myself dry, and blow-drying my hair, I went to my small closet and searched for my trench coat. I found it at the bottom of my closet beneath a pile of dirty clothes. I couldn't remember the last time I'd worn it. My fingers shook with anticipation as I shook the wrinkles out and slipped it over my naked body. I retrieved my favorite pair of red pumps from the top shelf and slipped them on my feet. Walking over to my only dresser, I stood in front of the mirror attached to it and critically assessed myself as I tied the loose belt in a knot on the side. I removed his hat from the hook I had placed it in on the wall and meticulously placed it on my head. I stopped and stared at it for a moment with my hands still covering it like a crown. It was too big for my head but I loved having it on me. I loved wearing something that was his. It made me feel close to him. It made me feel like I belonged to him and as silly as it was, I liked that feeling.

I still didn't understand what Jordan wanted with me. Not that I was ugly but I was far from beautiful, at least in my eyes. My curly red hair was always wild and unruly, no matter how many times I brushed or straightened it, my eyes were a dull blue and not at all striking like my sister Blair's had been; I still carried stretch marks from my pregnancy on my thighs and stomach and my breasts no longer sat up and at attention like they'd done in my late teens and early twenties. Sure, I had no problem getting a man but men weren't that picky anyway, especially if you were ready and willing. Jordan was different. He was a control freak but he had class and he was a gentleman. He could've had any woman in that bar that he wanted. Why had he chosen me?

I almost jumped out of my skin when I heard my phone chime on my bed, indicating that I had a text. I stared at it for a moment before I slowly walked over to it and picked it up, opening the text.

Westin on Hawthorne. Room 8500. Thirty minutes

I didn't know I'd been holding my breath until I heard myself letting it out. My hand trembled so hard I almost dropped the phone. I thought he said he'd call me. I wasn't expecting a text.