Home | Fiction Home | Table of Contents
While Hale was gone, Joanna tried to convince herself that she had not heard him say the word "relationship". Before yesterday, wait, she thought to herself, looking at the clock, it was after midnight, which technically made it Sunday morning. Their first real conversation had been the day before yesterday. She'd seen him around, talked to him very briefly in passing before that, but a few hours in a hot tub and a very, very pleasant session in bed did not a relationship make.
She remembered the plots of a few of the novels Kelly had loaned her. In some of those books, one or the other of the romantic pair often believed they were further along than the other thought. As often as not, in the novels, it was the man, which Joanna personally found laughable. She'd chalked it up to wishful thinking on the part of the novelist, probably on the behalf of the reader, but she had to wonder. Hale wasn't old, by any stretch of the imagination, but he was enough older than her that he might have different expectations of what sex meant.
Heck, from one year to the next, she had different expectations from relationships. Her first boyfriend in high school, the one she had told Hale about, had been easy to understand. Not too many people had realized they were anything but good friends, study buddies, seen together more often than not. But they hadn't kissed in public, or gone to school dances together. They were friends first, anything else second. She still got Christmas cards from him and his wife. They'd had their third kid last fall.
Neither had seriously expected to stay together after high school. He'd gone east to go to school. She'd come west. They had stayed in touch, but only as friends. She still thought of her first real boyfriend as the one she'd dated in college. But he was older than her. When he graduated, he'd left for the Bay Area. They'd parted friends, and again, stayed in touch, but only as friends. There'd been no discussion of her transferring to a school near where he worked, nor had they tried to have a long distance relationship.
It wasn't until she'd dated Steve in college, her own age, graduating at the same time, that she thought things were more serious than they were. She'd taken him back to visit her parents in Arizona, but he had never wanted to talk about where they would move when they finished school. She hadn't known he was going to New York until after he's accepted the job and cashed the signing bonus. He hadn't suggested she come with him. She'd taken the job at Taille in a blur at the time, still trying to figure out where she had gone wrong. When her parents came out to visit a few months later, she had put the pieces together.
"Joanna, you're going to have to quit blaming yourself for Steve leaving," her mom had told her firmly.
"But I thought we were serious! How could I have made that mistake?"
"You were serious. He was serious. He met me and he freaked out. It's not your fault, Joanna."
She'd looked at her mom blankly, trying to make sense of what she was saying. Her friends had always loved her mom. Most of them growing up hadn't been able to stop saying how great she was compared to their mothers, how easy-going, how open minded, how willing to let Joanna take risks and make her own decisions. Their dads went to the range, and maybe occasionally took them, but their mothers worried about them, gave them curfews, limited their driving and tried to keep them safe. Joanna's mom had not only required Joanna to learn to shoot, but she'd insisted Joanna maintain an extensive exercise program from an early age. She didn't care about sports. She just wanted to make sure her daughter could run, jump, dodge, swim, and operate any kind of vehicle she was likely to encounter.
Joanna had always suspected her mother's standards had been the source of her caution, even timidity. "What do you mean? My friends always like you. You're cool. You're cooler than me, that's for sure."
"Don't be a dolt, Joanna. You just need a little more confidence, that's all. And maybe a little more time on the track. But that's not what I want to talk to you about. Steve was looking for a nice, demure, staid woman to be a nice, demure, staid corporate wife. He figured you for perfect, until he met us. As soon as he found out your dad was a cop and your mom was something no one talked about but nevertheless was treated with even more respect than your dad, Steve couldn't run away fast enough. Face it, kiddo. You are either going to have to start warning your young men earlier on in the process, or you are going to have to date someone a little less boring."
"Steve wasn't boring. He was nice."
"I bet he wasn't even as good in bed as that nice young man you used to hang out with in high school. I still don't know why you like Mike get away like that."
"Mom! We were eighteen!"
"So what? You didn't even give it a solid try."
Joanna had to agree with that. But she was surprised her mom knew Mike had been more than just a friend.
As usual, it had been a relief when her frighteningly competent parents left. To be fair, her mother had helped her get over her lingering post-breakup depression. She had tried, over the next year or two, to find someone "a little less boring", but all the men she met who fit that description were experimenting with drugs, riding motorcycles Joanna could not approve of, or only interested in very short term flings. That was fine by her. She had chosen to focus on her career instead.
Several years later, now, down the hall flushing the toilet, was a man she suspected even her mother could not describe as "boring". Joanna wished again that he wasn't so cagy about his job. She had decided he wasn't some wacko stalker, but that didn't mean his job was the sort her parents would approve. Joanna found him extremely satisfactory in every other respect, but it was far too soon to be thinking about the word "relationship", much less making assumptions about whether they had one. She frowned. She'd better just pretend he hadn't said anything. She didn't have the courage to make the first, or even the second move in this arena. She could almost here her mother whispering in her ear, "Chicken!"
When he returned from the bathroom, Hale tried to assess Joanna's mood. She did not look sleepy, but she instead, he thought, a little sad. But when she saw him, she lit up. What was she thinking of, to make her look so sad? He was curious, but did not feel he could ask her yet. A little distraction was in order.
He stopped her from sitting up by the simple expedient of covering her body with his. He buried his nose in her hair and breathed in. She didn't wear perfume, but had that indefinable scent that came from using hair and skin products marketed to women. That layered mix of floral and food and spicy smells, mingled with her own smell and, he was pleased to realize, his own. He opened his mouth against her neck and licked her. Taste was always less dramatic than smell, but all of those elements were present on her skin, with the added zest of salt. He moved his head slightly, letting her earlobe slip between his lips. He took it in his teeth and bit down slowly, stopping when he felt her tense. When she relaxed again, he nipped slightly harder than let go, enjoying the feel of her startled response.
He slid down her body, ignoring her efforts to kiss him on the mouth. Most of his adult life had been about not allowing himself to become too focussed, to lose himself in tunnel vision, to succumb to the driving needs of his limbic system. While the context might be different, habit dictated the same goal. It was bad enough he'd let the first round go so fast. At least he'd made sure she had come first. But this time he was going to make it memorable. He wanted her to invite him back for more.
He kissed his way down her neck to the upper curve of her breasts. Her hands came around to bury themselves in his hair. Their gentle movement was relaxing and only somewhat distracting. He thought about making her stop, but decided she would either object, or find something even more distracting to do. This was harmless enough. He hoped.
He could feel her hips lift under him as his lips grazed one nipple and his fingers slid over the other. He let the rest of his weight settle on top of her. That ought to slow her down. He quickly realized his error when she added a rotation to the upward pressure. He raised his head briefly to say, "Stop that. I'm busy here. You got to pick what we did last time. My turn." She stopped arching under him, then a moment later started moving her legs. He rearranged himself on top of her to prevent further movement. He felt her tap his shoulder a few times.
"What, you think this is some kind of sporting event you can tap out of? Are you complaining?" he asked her teasingly.
"Not complaining, but you're not letting me do much, you know."
"Given that my intention is to not let you do anything, I'll consider that a qualified success."
She paused, but didn't look happy. He waited.
"Did you not like, uh. . ." she trailed off.
"I liked," he said emphatically. "I liked a lot. Too much. I'd like to slow things down a little this time and make it better for you. Please."
"I, uh, really liked, too. It's okay, it's great to have a few quick rounds first. Really. I know what it's like to be in a hurry. Trust me on this."
"I trust you, babe. But unfortunately, I fall asleep after, and the second or so time I fall asleep I'll probably just stay asleep. So let me do it my way this time, all right? Fair?"
She nodded, still wary, but relaxed underneath him. He thought he had convinced her to lie back and enjoy herself. She did, for a few minutes, letting him slide down between her legs. When she had disappeared, she had cleaned herself, he noticed as he tasted her. No latex aftertaste at all, but still very damp. Or maybe that was very damp again. This time, he inserted his left index finger into her while he licked and suckled. He could feel her flex around him and smiled.
Despite his request, she didn't stay down long. He felt her lift herself up, but since she didn't try to move her hips or legs, he tried to ignore what she was doing. When he heard the drawer in the bedside table slide open, he sucked on her clitoris and was rewarded with a gasp. Her activity paused for a moment, but as soon as he slid his tongue down again, he heard her rummaging around with some kind of plastic.
Obviously, he was going to have to escalate. He switched hands, sliding the first two fingers of his right hand into her, and sliding his left hand under her buttocks. He found her anus with his still-damp finger and gently traced the rim. He heard her groan in response. Her hand came back from the drawer and dropped at her side. She was still holding onto a condom package, he noticed. That would come in handy in a few minutes.
He lowered his head again, and as he lovingly licked around her clitoris, slid his fingers in and out, and circled her with his other hand, he felt all of her muscles clench simultaneously. Her hips arched again and she called out his name. This was more like what he'd hand in mind. He lifted his head to watch her, but did not stop moving his fingers. Her eyes were closed, and her face was flushed. Pleased, he leaned in again to suck on her clitoris, a lot harder this time.
Her unmuffled, from the gut scream shocked the hell out of him, but did not stop him. The small contractions had become a lot stronger, and unless she asked him to stop, he figured he could keep going until she passed out or started choking. If he did this for too long, his hands would definitely cramp, but this response was more than worth it.
She was trying to scoot away from his fingers now, and gasping something that started with an ssss sound. He raised his head and saw that the flush on her face had spread down across her shoulders and past her breasts. He paused for a moment, and she gasped out, "Stop, please, you have to stop." As he slipped his fingers out, she flopped back on the pillows with a long moan. When he was no longer touching her, she rolled over and curled up in a fetal position.
He reached down to the floor by the bed where he had dropped a wet washcloth on his way back from the bathroom and carefully cleaned his left hand. Dropping it back to the floor, he curled himself around her. She relaxed slightly, snuggling back into him. When her buttocks touched his erection, she adjusted so it was tucked into the cleft of her buttocks. He reached around to touch her nipple, but she blocked him.
Picking up the condom package she had taken out of the drawer earlier, he ripped it open. As he rolled away from her to put it on, she flopped back down onto her back and spread her legs with a sigh. His slight concern that she might not want to have sex again for a while was obviously misplaced.
He settled himself between her legs, entering her very slowly, watching her for any indication that she'd changed her mind, or was in pain. She felt so relaxed, almost rag-doll-like. She was definitely awake, although her eyes were half lidded. She hadn't felt tense earlier, just strong. She didn't feel week now, either, but rather bonelessly relaxed. Stroking himself against her clitoris briefly as he pulled out, he could feel her climax restart. "Are you okay?" he asked, stopping for a moment. Maybe he should let her sleep for a while.
"Stay," she growled back at him. She reached up to grip his arms tightly. As he slid into her, her hands dropped back down to her side. She seemed drugged, but still very responsive. But whereas before he'd had to argue to get her to let him take the lead, now she had no energy to act, only to react to whatever he did to her. Amazed at the change, she reached down again to cup her breast. She moaned quietly, until he squeezed the nipple. He felt her entire body tense, and her hand came up to knock his aside. He wondered what she was feeling right now. He'd never felt particularly jealous of the whole women have multiple orgasms thing until right now. Most of his lovers orgasms had seemed comparatively tame next to what he knew he was feeling.
Dropping onto his hands, he buried his face in her air, nipping at her shoulder as he stroked himself to completion. She wrapped her legs around his waist near the end, gripping him with more strength than he thought she had left in her. When his own climax hit him, he fought the urge to sprawl on top of her. He stopped stroking, but she did not, putting her feet back down along his legs and rocking her hips up, slowly and unpredictably and until he had to gasp for her to stop.
She sighed, reminding him he should pull out and roll over. But when he reached down to grasp the condom, she said into his ear, "Stop. Stay, just for another minute."
He complied, trying to stay awake. Her foot came over his calf and yanked at his leg. It slipped before he understood what she was doing. Before she could repeat the trick on the other side, he let his weight settle on her completely. "All you had to do was ask, babe. Whatever you want."
A few minutes later, he did roll over and drop the condom on the side of the bed. By the time he'd spooned himself around her, she was already sound asleep. Smiling, he kissed the back of her head and let himself fall asleep.
Several hours later, he woke up. He was momentarily disoriented, then remembered where he was and why. The sun was just coming up, but he had a few hours before he had to open the office. He sat up to stretch, his muscles a little sore and cramped from sleeping with another person. He could definitely get used to this. Maybe she'd let him cook her breakfast. If he got really lucky, he might even get a chance to invite her over to that barbecue Brad and Elaine were having.
While he was sitting up, she rolled over onto her back. A small smile played across her face, even though she was still sound asleep. They had been sleeping curled up in a ball in the exact middle of her huge bed. He chose to interpret that as an indication that the word relationship had not frightened her too badly.
Before he could talk himself out of this optimistic interpretation, he leaned over her to kiss her on the neck. He felt the warm air of her breath move through his hair. He kissed his way down, across the top of her breasts, stopping to appreciate each nipple, across her belly, down to the short hairs and then into her warm, damp folds. As he touched her inner thighs, to move her legs apart, they spread for him. He looked up at her. She wasn't awake yet, but definitely was not as deeply asleep. After a few licks, she was still asleep, settling down again. Hmmm. Reaching into the drawer by the side of the bed, he found another condom. There were a lot of condoms in there, along with a couple bottles of lube and a few other odds and ends that looked interesting. However, now was not the time for experimentation. It was dicey having sex with a sleeping partner anyway. They hadn't talked about it, but he thought she wouldn't mind, as long as he used protection.
He slid his fingers into her first, to make sure she was wet enough, and to give her another chance to wake up. She didn't, although she responded to his thumb on her clitoris. Keeping his thumb there, he knelt between her legs and slid himself into her slowly, continuing to rub her gently with his thumb. She woke up on his fourth stroke. Looking up at her blearily, she asked, "Did you find the condoms?"
"Yup," he answered. "You can go back to sleep if you want to."
"Ha!" she replied, "Not with you doing that."
"Want me to stop?" he asked.
"No, I don't want you to, ohhhhhh," she interrupted herself as he adjusted position slightly. "I definitely do not want you to stop. I definitely want you to keep doing just that."
"So you don't want me to change and do this," he reached down with his other hand to tweak one nipple, "for example."
"Literal minded tonight, are we? You do whatever you like. I like what you're doing. I trust your judgment."
He had a few more minutes to try more things before they both got a little too excited, and then a lot too sleepy to continue.
Home | Fiction Home | Table of Contents
Copyright 2013 by Rebecca Allen Updated July 17, 2013