Hannah Hunt

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

I wrote this as a kind of prequel to Vampire Weekend's song, Hannah Hunt. It's about the fallout of a relationship that started out as fruitful.

HANNAH HUNT

BY ETHAN JONES, III

 

 

The cool breeze reflected off of the rocky coast of southern New Hampshire. Hannah and I lied still underneath a generous amount of carefully woven covers made from the wool of a lamb. “How much longer?” Hannah said, flipping her long blonde hair to the right to unveil her eyes that were as blue as the sky on a warm, summer day in Vermont. “What does it matter? Your father's summering in the Hampton's anyway.” She pondered or a moment trying to respond with one of her sly responses that she had made so many times before. I could tell she was slowly drifting out of the summer love we had found. We were just out of our junior year of high school when we both met at the town's Starbucks. It was rather conspicuous how we both met, really. We had both ordered the same drink, and due to my impatience, I grabbed the first one that the baristas put on the bar. It was then that a slim, blonde girl approached me from the far corner of the coffee shop. She was wearing a white skirt, representative of the innocence she fairly portrayed. Holding that skirt against her porcelain skin was a black cummerbund, followed by a white Ralph Lauren polo. It was obvious she had just gotten through playing tennis. “You are aware that that's my drink, right?” Her accent could easily be defined as a transatlantic(or in other words, what you heard from women in those cheesy movies from 1932). “Uh, no. No, I wasn't. I ordered the same thing. Honest mistake.” She cackled, shaking her head in a dismissive manner as she plucked the drink from my hand. She was eager and went after what she wanted. Such a simple gesture defined her personality. It was imperative that I went after this woman. She was bossy, and for some odd damn reason I liked that. I'm definitely getting derailed. The fact of the matter is, I fell in the love the moment she took that coffee out of my hand. “You're a little bossy, don't you think Miss..?” She laughed wholeheartedly, and I was puzzled. What did I do wrong? I just practically asked for her name. It was sort of like-- “Hannah Tinsley Hunt.” She was a Hunt. My family has been in a financial battle with hers for the past 100 years over the Northeast's fishing business. “And yours?” Well, shit. How are you going to get yourself out of this one Michael? You could just tell her. Maybe she won't even know. “Michael Blankenship.” She furrowed her brows, tilting her head and giving me the most peculiar look I've seen in all my sixteen and a half years on Earth. “You're a Blankenship. I'm assuming we should just go ahead and kill each other right now, shouldn't we?” I laughed and so did she. “I'm sure we can find a more civil way to go about doing things.” I motioned to her tennis outfit. “How about you and I have a tennis outing tomorrow morning at 11? It'll be at Parkerton Country Club.” She responded to my little war pact with an affirmative nod. I nearly fainted. Not only did a Hunt just say yes to socializing me, but she seems sort of flirtatious too.

 

I woke up at 9:30 in the morning and ate breakfast at the Huntington Reserve. By myself, of course. My parents went to Cape Cod for the summer and left me to my lonesome. I can't complain. I've got the house and the BMW to myself, along with my dad's entire box of Cubans. I ate my breakfast and got to the tennis court just in the nick of time. 10:55 AM. I leaned against the BMW, and as soon as I looked to the left, Hannah pulled in with a Mercedes Benz. What a bitch. I should have expected her to beat me somehow. “Nice ride.” She said in the most smart ass way imaginable. I snarled at her and said, “Let's get this show on the road.” We began playing tennis, and honest to God I was impressed. I thought I would have went in there and mopped the floor with her, but the entire duration of the game it was her that was beating me. The score was 4-5, her lead. For the game winning point, she delivered a swift overhand that went the exact way I didn't want it to; resulting in me landing flat on my face on the scorching black pavement. I lifted my face up from the ground, noticing droplets of blood slowly hitting the court. Hannah, despite being from a family full off assholes, ran over and rolled me over. She blocked the sun's violent rays from blinding me. I'd rather have her hovering over me than the sun any day. This girl was the very definition of beauty. “Oh my God, Michael, are you okay?” I groaned, “That's a hell of an overhand,” I interrupted myself with a cough, “Hell of an overhand.” She hit her hand against my chest as she laughed. Except it wasn't just a simple tap. She rested it there. We looked into one another's eyes for five seconds straight. It was evident that we both felt something. She took her hand off of me and I shuffled to my feet, tilting my head backwards in order to not let any more blood escape from my nose. Hannah led me to my car, and I unlocked it for her so she could grab some napkins from the center console. She sat there tending to my nose for ten minutes, gently patting it with the napkin while she placed her soft and tender palm against my forehead. “You aren't exactly the best tennis player, Michael.” I felt comfortable enough around her to the point that I just said, “Shut the hell up, Hannah.” We both smiled at one another. She sighed and brushed her hair out of her eyes. She knew I loved it when she did that. That's why she was doing it. She wanted me to get attached. She knew I was attached. Hannah sighed, “Let's go get lunch at my house. My parents left for the Hamptons so you don't have to worry about getting murdered.” I just got invited to her home for lunch. Oh my God. This is really going to happen and it's going to be wonderful. For once in my life, I'm going to actually get something I worked for.

 

We took Hannah's car to her house so that her neighbors wouldn't get suspicious of some black BMW parked in her driveway that they've never seen before. As a matter of fact, she didn't even park in her driveway. She went directly into the garage. “This is just so nobody tells my parents. It's fine, don't worry about it.” She gave me the weirdest smile. It was like a mix between, “I'm being sincere” and “I'm actually just embarrassed to have you in my car.” Either way, neither of those things would appeal to me. I wanted Hannah and it was very clear that she wanted me. We stepped inside of her house, and we were immediately greeted by the barking of her pomeranian. “I don't think she likes me.” Hannah looked at me and smiled, “She does that to everyone. It's nothing personal.” Everyone? Who was everyone? Am I just some one night stand or is she talking about her friends? Maybe I'm just over-thinking. Who cares. Here I am, standing in one of the most beautiful girls homes of our little community. “What would you like? Some filet mignon, maybe?” I laughed and said, “Is that really something you're supposed to eat at 1 o'clock?” She shrugged and grabbed some left over Chinese food from the fridge. “Fine, have it your way.” I love Chinese food. She loves Chinese food. “Hell, that's probably better than filet mignon.” She tossed it in the microwave and just stood there, watching it. I felt like she had some kind of guilt hidden down in her. It was just some blank stare into a damn microwave. I stood up chalantly and approached her. “What's wrong, Hannah?” She glanced over her shoulder and said, “You. You're what's wrong.” In a quick and almost second nature response, I grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her around. She seemed startled at first, and I told her, “If I'm what's wrong, stop me from doing this.” Hannah looked down at my lips and I could tell she knew what was about to happen. I grabbed the back of her neck and went in for the kiss. She actually kept the kiss up before she scratched the back of my neck. I put my hands on the back of her knees and put her on the counter, massaging her breasts and moving my lips away from hers. I planted my lips on the side of her neck and practically went at it. She moaned as if she's never done this before. This reassured me of her one night stand shenanigans. “Take me.” She said, releasing a sequence of moans afterward. I picked her up from the counter and we made our way to her Ottoman couch in the guest room. She was wearing some spandex form of clothing underneath. I ripped it apart and unzipped my pants. A condom. I don't have a condom. “Hannah, I don't--” she placed her index finger on my lips. “It's fine. Don't worry, I'm on the pill.” Me being the arrogant teenager I am, I just assumed she was telling the truth. The moment I tried going inside of her, I could tell she was a virgin. It was too tight. A few moments of trouble led me to actually being inside of her and making slow and sensual thrusts. I'd pull her hair backwards and kiss the side of her neck as I went inside of her. This action went on for fifteen minutes before both of us climaxed. Her being a virgin, the obvious happened. It didn't matter to me. We were both in love. At least that's what I thought at the time.  


Submitted: June 16, 2014

© Copyright 2021 Ethan Jones III. All rights reserved.

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