Drinking Games

et 22 Drinking Games may 17 2017.jpg

Educating Thalia

Chapter 22

Collaboration by @avenger-nerd-mom &  @devikafernando

AU FICTION

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago.  Story updates are posted on Wednesdays and Sundays.

Word count: 2892

Warnings:  Language, Adult Situations, fluff, drinking, discussions of sex, designated driver

Summary:  Tom encounters Thalia late at night at the school library but food is the need for the evening.  But as usual with Tom, that leads to something more…

Click here for intro to Educating Thalia

The rain beats against the glass, matching his mood.  Walking down the row of books, he finds the volume he needs and pulls it down from the shelf.  His thoughts roam to a similar night months ago, and taking a chance, he turns to the left.   The vision in front of him lifts his spirits and with a smile and a chuckle, he crosses the dark and empty room.

“I thought I’d find you here, darling.”

Lost deep in her thoughts, her brow is furrowed when she lifts her head. The grin breaks across her face and reaches her eyes, a wide, friendly expression.  She is happy to see him.  “Hey, Tom.”  She pats the side of the couch next to her, with little fear of being discovered on a late Friday night.  He sits down, keeping his distance, though he does hit his leg against her knee before resting his ankle across his thigh.  “Just trying to get a few things finished so I can get some time to relax this weekend.”  Looking at the pile of books at her feet, she scoffs.  “Even if it is just five minutes.”

He looks at her quizzically, “I thought you had a family thing tomorrow, or something?”

She sighs.  “I do; Big Jim, from the bar?  His wife asked me over for an early dinner tomorrow before my shift.  I’ve just been so busy, I haven’t really had a chance to see her except when she stops by the bar.”  Thalia fidgets with the patch on her jeans.  “Do you… Do you want to go with me?”

Her hopeful smile tugs on his heartstrings.  “Oh darling.  I can’t.  Tomorrow is the day we go to New York with the students to the theatre district for their field study.  You planned it, remember?”

Her eyes grow wide.  “Shit, yeah.  I guess I totally have my dates mixed up.”  She looks at her phone screen and laughs.  “Yeah.  Ya know, it’ll be better as soon as I get this paper done for Masterson’s class.  If I pass it, I don’t have to attend class the rest of the term.  And I can sleep in two days a week!”  She playfully claps her hands together in glee.

Tom lays his arm on the back of the couch and plays with her dark curls.  “Are you afraid, dear, you won’t do well?”

“Perfectionist.  You know that.”  Her eyes close and she involuntarily leans towards him.  Whispering she tells, “Damn, you smell good.”

He chuckles quietly.  “You work too hard.  Is it so bad to fail?  There’s learning in failure too, Thalia.”

Her eyes pop open and she shifts in her seat.  “It’s not an option.  You know what it was like for me at Christmas.  If I go back home, I’ll be a teacher, or be a tour guide at a museum, or work with Dad at his shop.  I mean, I don’t mind getting dirty, but changing oil filters and knocking out babies isn’t how I want to live my life.  I want more than that.  I think that’s the one part of me that must come from my mother; wanting adventure and a grand life.  For me, I can’t get that in Chicago.  I want Cairo, Paris, hell, even Honduras looks pretty interesting right now with all the things I’m discovering.”  He tries to hide the scowl on his face from her reference to work with Evans; but at least the few extra hours on campus allows her to cut back late night hours at the bar.  “I want the mud on my boots to be worldly.”

Her passion speaks to him.  He remembers being young, and wanting those things too.  A wanderlust for new experiences and places to see.  “You’ll get those things, darling.  I believe you can make it happen.”

Just then, her stomach rumbles and they both share a laugh.  She pats her belly and whispers, “Shhh.  We’ll eat later.”

“Thalia, have you been here all evening?” Tom scolds, already knowing her answer. “Have you not eaten?”

Sheepishly, she hides behind her book.  He reaches over and pulls it down.  “That’s it.  We’re going to dinner.  Come on.”  He rises to standing and holds his hand out to her.  “I won’t take no for an answer.”

She reaches to him and allows herself to be pulled up.  “Tom, don’t be ridiculous.  I’m not dressed to go any place and-”

“Shush.  Come on.  We’ll go for wings and beer.”  He bends to pick up her books.  “Do you need all these for your work?”

She nods as she throws her pens and notebook in her bag.

“Thalia Bareo, you may be one of the last students on Earth who still loves book research.  Ever heard of a thing called ‘the Internet?’”  Tom teases as he adds two more books from the side table to the large stack in his arms.

“I like the written word, Professor.  The feel of the pages under my fingertips.”  Reaching for the book on the top of his stack, she opens it carefully, waving it under his nose.  “The smell of old books that haven’t been used in ages.”  She holds it to her face, inhaling the scent and cutely sneezing from the dust.  “That’s tangible, real.  It’s served me well, and this close to the end of my graduate work, I’m not changing anything.”

She takes several of the books from his arms and he follows her to the stairs, down to the checkout desk.  “Mrs. Hooperman? I didn’t know you were still on duty tonight.”  Tom greets the clerk brightly, setting the stack of books on the counter and taking the ones from Thalia as well.  “I had two items on reserve and tech was supposed to leave the delivery of my laptop here?”

The older woman eyes the two suspiciously, clacking a few buttons on her keyboard.  “Yes, Mr. Hiddleston.  Let me get those for you.  I’ll be right back.”

As the woman walks away, Thalia turns to Tom. “Wings?  Isn’t that rather beneath your fine dining tastes? Where are we going?”

Mimicking one of her signature moves, he rolls his eyes at her.  “We’re going to take this ridiculous stack of books to your car,” Tom tells as he puts on his winter coat, and helping Thalia into hers, his hands resting momentarily on her waist, “and walk across the street to Too Talls.”

Looking over her shoulder, Thalia turns back to Tom and briefly touches her fingers to his forehead and he momentarily feels burned by her touch.  “Are you crazy?  Do you have a fever?  Do you need to lie down?  That’s a campus bar!  Do you know how many people will be in there tonight?”

The light in the office down the hall flicks off and the clerk heads towards them.  Tom hisses, “I do need to lie down, with you by my side and I’m going to-”

The clerk clears her throat, stepping into their presence.  She makes a clucking sound in the back of her throat, quickly scanning Tom’s reserved materials and handing him a form to sign for the computer.  She smiles brightly at Thalia and the two make small talk, the woman complaining her Friday nights will be lonely once the young girl graduates.  “Thank you, Mrs. Hooperman.  And thank you for the recipe you gave me last week.  I really liked it.  It made perfect frozen meals!”

Gathering the books, Tom sighs.  “Mrs. Hooperman?  Could we borrow a basket for these?  We’ve worked late and I can help get them to her car, but she’ll have to bring them back on her own?”

“Yes, yes.  Good idea.  Let me find one.”  She turns to leave.

“You were saying?”  Thalia smiles.

“None of that now, girl.  Don’t get me worked up.  The math department was having a celebration and their assistants were invited.  We’ll sneak in on their gathering with the pretense we were working on the Gala presentation and needed a break.”

“I hate math,” Thalia shudders.  “Not my strong suit.  I mean, I’m functional, but I don’t get how someone would want to spend their life with numbers.  So boring and strict.  Words, history, those things change; matter.”

Tom chuckles.  “Don’t say that when we get over there, it could start a bar brawl; which I’m sure you could handle quite well, but- ah!  Mrs. Hooperman, perfect.  Thank you so much!”

She helps the two load the books into the box she found and Thalia takes Tom’s laptop and they head out into the night, thankful the rain has stopped.

#

By the time Tom walks into the bar, the place is in full swing. Searching the crowd it takes him a few minutes to spot Thalia standing next to the corner booth in the back, talking to the waitress.  He strides over to the bar, but before he can place an order, someone from the booth calls out to him.  “Hiddleston, old man, join us!” shouts a jovial if slightly intoxicated voice.

Shit.  It’s the guy from the math department whose name always escapes him.  They’ve played tennis before and Tom even attended a dreadfully boring dinner party at his home once, but Tom still can never remember the man’s name.  He’s got his arm up on the seat behind him, and Tom catches the casual way his fingertips drag across the shoulder of the young blonde sitting next to him.

Thalia nods her hello as he joins the group, and they are both invited to join the table.  There’s some shifting of seats and somehow the pair end up at the back of the booth sitting together.  The math professor teases, “Maybe you language buffs can help class this group up a bit.  I’m afraid we’ve taken our fair share of drinks tonight.”  His other arm sweeps out to the array of empty glasses and bottles on the table.

The waitress arrives and hands Thalia her drink, announcing the chicken wings will be up shortly and asking if anyone else would like to order.  Tom orders a cheeseburger and fries with a beer.  The group explains the reason for their celebration- two of the students will be joining the math nerds at NASA after graduation, so the professors wanted to thank them for their dedication.  “And how often do you get to really relax and know your students, right Tom?”

Tom simply nods as the redhead on his left slides a bit closer and begins asking him questions about life in London.  Thalia’s hand briefly scrapes across his thigh before she turns her attention to the conversation going on around her.

Drinks are served and food is shared and the group begins to get louder as the night wears on, finally leading to a drinking game.  Tom seems to have missed the rules of the game, and bows out, claiming designated driver status.  Thalia simply chuckles and raises an eyebrow at him, reaching for the shot placed in front of her.

The game seems to go on forever.  He’s learned more about Thalia than he truly has a right to know.  She’s taken drinks to reply to the most innocent questions, but some of the racier ones as well.  She’s never kissed a girl, but on the next question he learns that she’s fantasized about it.  She’s shoplifted, cheated on a test, and had sex while her parents were at home. The group coerced him to at least participate by drinking his own beer slowly, and the questions flow more freely as everyone begins to lose their inhibitions a bit.  No one seems fazed when the professor from the math department boldly places his hand on the back of the young woman’s neck as the game continues.  It’s as if the team knows of their connection?  Thalia catches his eye and the challenge flashing there quickly has him toss his head back in laughter.

A boy in a ballcap throws it all in by presenting to the table, “Never have I ever had sex with someone I work with….”

From the corner of his eye Tom can see Thalia lick the salt from her wrist as she prepares to down another shot, and he takes a long draw from his bottle of beer on the table.  As he watches cautiously the other student and professor down their drink, and he realizes the man’s arm is no longer behind the girl, but quite obviously in her lap.  Next to him, the redhead  whispers she’d like to know more about working with him next semester in the language department.  Tom shifts uncomfortably, sliding a bit closer to Thalia, and silently pushes his plate of fries to her.  With an innocent smile, she takes one, chewing quickly before slamming another shot in response to the statement ‘Never have I ever had sex in more than five cars.”

“Wait, wait, wait.”  Slurs the redhead.  “Thalia, you’ve been slammin’ ‘em back.  I’m gonna need some clarification.  Go with the last one.  Tell us about how you’ve had sex in more than five cars.”

The rest of the table agrees, hitting the shot glasses on the table and starting a chant, “tell us, tell us, tell us.”

Tom sits back, trying to keep the fire from his eyes.  He’s not liking this game too much, but it has been eye opening.  He struggles not to make eye contact with her, difficult to do as he can feel the heat rising through her body next to him.

She chuckles, resting her elbow on the table and reaching for another buffalo wing from the basket.  She begins to pick it apart and shrugs her shoulders.  “Well you assholes don’t have to act like it’s so unbelievable,” she huffs with a sarcastic smile.  “Not much to tell, but I can actually clear up three things you’ve learned about me.”  The tap of her leg against him lets him know her honesty is for his benefit.  “My dad owns an auto mechanic shop.  When I was in high school, I worked there and had a crush on the other guy that worked with us, about three years older than me.”  From the corner of his eye, he can see the blush rising across her cheeks, as she pauses to chew a bite of the chicken.  Wiping her fingers on a napkin, she continues.  “When Dad would go out on service calls, we would choose the nicest car in the shop and screw around in the back seat.  So there you have it- at work, with a co-worker, 5 or more cars.  Three things about me.”

“I call bullshit,” says the dark haired boy down the table from her.  Tom tenses, wondering what the boy might have to say.  “You’re a fuckin’ ice princess who never puts out.”

Thalia turns to him with a flash in her eyes, which quickly turns sympathetic.  “Aww, Caleb, are you still blaming your limp dick on my fat?”

The table goes wild, high fives, “oohs” and “she burned you!”  The girl next to him says, “Dude, she’s got you pegged!”

“Oh!  There’s a question!”  Someone chimes in.  “Never ever have I been-”

“Whoa!”  Thalia raises her voice, jumping from the bench.  “That’s my cue to leave.  You math department people are too hard core for me.  I’m out.”

She starts pushing the girl next to her and the three people on the outer end of the booth slide out for Thalia to make her exit.

The boy in the baseball cap teases, “What?  Us talking about ‘doing the beast with two backs’ is too much for you?  Thought you loved that Shakespeare shit?”

Thalia laughs, grabbing another chicken wing to go, wobbling for a moment on her feet.

Donaldo, Tom thinks, remembering his name, chimes in. “Hiddleston? She’s your teaching assistant.”  He gives the man a shove on his arm.  “You can’t let her go out into the dark night, half drunk and alone.  Be a gentleman and at least walk her to her car.”

The red head pipes up as Tom begins to slide out of the booth.  “Actually Professor,” her hand squeezing his thigh.  “I’m a little too drunk also.  Think you can give me a ride home?”

Bloody hell.  He sighs.  “Sure, why not?  Who else needs a ride?”  Seeing Thalia starting to walk away, he reaches his hand out to her arm and feels the spark of electricity between them.  He wants to get her alone quickly.  “Ms. Bar- Thalia.  Wait.  I’ll drive you and a few of the others home; you’ve all had a bit much to drink.”

She wobbles again.  “Really, sir,”  she smiles slowly.  “I haven’t had that much to drink.  It’s these damn heels.”

“Uh- huh.  Right.”  He steps closer to her, smelling the alcohol on her breath.  “Just wait.”

Turning back to the table, he sees the party is splitting up and one of the other faculty members from a smaller table nearby is offering to take a group home also.  The two men divide up the students based on where their ‘deliveries’ need to be made and Tom is more than pleased to note the redhead will be in the other car.  As the group exits the pub, he’s fairly sure she’s the one trying to grab his ass.

Click here to read Chapter 23 Ride Home

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

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Dinner for Two

et ch 8 dinner for two april 2 2017.jpg

Chapter 8 – Dinner for Two

Educating Thalia

a collaboration by @devikafernando and @avenger-nerd-mom

AU fiction

A collaboration involving Professor Hiddleston and Professor Evans- The two are rivals at a posh New England university and have no idea they both have taken interest in the lovely Thalia Bareo. She’s a grad student with interests in language and history; a sassy full-figured Puerto Rican girl from Chicago

Word count 5336

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, food porn, images of Tom dancing, NSFW, masturbation, nipple play, discussion of consent and BDSM

summary:  Tom continues pampering Thalia after the bath, pulling out all the stops. Dinner and dancing lead to intimate talks and another sexual awakening for Thalia.

Click here for the main page for Educating Thalia

For auditory inspiration, listen to Vente Pa’ Ca by Ricky Martin

Thalia executes a mock salute at Tom’s insistence that she wear only her lingerie to dinner, which makes him lift a brow. She stifles a giggle, and her embarrassment is adorable. He takes her panties and kneels on the rug, tapping her leg.

She watches with unveiled interest as he slides her underwear up after she’s stepped in, dressing her with the same gentle firmness and erotic undercurrent with which he usually undresses her. He places butterfly kisses all over her thick thighs and then one right on her now covered center, making her suck in a breath. Then he grabs her bra and moves her this way and that to put it on, licking his lips at the way the cloth pushes her luscious breasts up so the globes are practically begging for attention. He rubs his cheek over them, nuzzling the place where he could happily spend a small lifetime.

A resolute knock at the room door makes them jump apart like frightened horses.

“Room service.”

Tom holds up a finger, grinning widely at the thought of food and at the face she’s likely to make when she sees all the delicacies he’s ordered.

“Stay right here, darling. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

In record speed, he pulls his trousers back on and quickly shrugs his white dress shirt on over his still damp skin. The fit is snug, but at least he’s covered. He hurries off towards the door after closing the bathroom door behind him.

With a skip in his step, he lets the trolley-wielding waiter in to arrange all the dishes on the coffee table.

“Thank you ever so much.” With a smile and a generous tip, Tom sends the efficient man away and surveys his feast.

He walks to the bathroom and opens the door, bowing with a flourish and sweeping his hand for her to pass.

“Milady, dinner is served,” he says in a nasal, deferential tone, which causes another fit of giggles.

“I don’t feel very ladylike in this,” she protests, gesturing to her set of bra and panties and eyeing the white fluffy bathrobe on the back of the door longingly.

Tom entwines his fingers with hers and pulls her to the table.

“Nonsense, love, you’re downright regal with that scrumptious body. Now give me that defiant lift of your chin that you’re so good at, and I’ll be your fawning servant all throughout dinner.”

Thalia shakes her head, but he can see her smile, and there’s a gleam in her eyes that makes her even more beautiful to him.

She stops mid-step when she’s close enough to see the table, her free hand rising to her gaping mouth.

“Oh my god, Tom, did you order the whole buffet or something?”

With a sheepish grin, he pulls her on. “I might have, in a way. I wasn’t sure what you’d like and I wanted it to be a real treat, so I had them bring a bit of basically everything on the menu.”

Pulling her hand out of his grip, she fixes him in a serious stare.

“Honestly, you shouldn’t have done that. It must be costing you a fortune. And you’ve already paid for the room, and…”

Tom steps up and places his long fingers over her mouth, silencing her protest.

“I’ll have none of that talk, Miss Bareo,” he says, using the stern, deep voice that makes her comply most of the time.

“What kind of a cheapskate would I be if I gave you a half-boiled date?” He narrows his eyes at her when her lips open against his palm.  “Not. A. Word. I’m perfectly capable of spending a bit of money on the woman who drives me crazy, and I won’t have you ruin my moment. I promised you some pampering, and this dinner is part of it. If you mention money one more time, I swear I’ll make good on that threat and give you a real spanking.”

He leans even closer, watching her pupils dilate in a mix of fear and arousal. “Or I might just tie your hands behind your back with my tie and have my merry way with you.”

Her breath whooshes out, warm against his hand. He pulls it away and gives her a devilish smirk.

“Now, are we having dinner or not? You’ll need all the sustenance you can get, believe me.”

Flushing beet-red and mumbling something in barely audible Spanish, Thalia all but flees his presence.

With a chuckle, he watches her ogle the spread of five-star food, ranging from small bites of seafood and cold meats to exotic salads and lovingly arranged cuisine from all over the world.

Sitting in the chair, he motions to the seat opposite him.

Thalia doesn’t have to be asked twice. The sight and smell of the food seems to destroy her last reserve and she tucks in with as much gusto as him.

For the next few minutes, she eats heartily, allowing him to feed her with a tasty morsel off and on. She’s making all those delighted noises again that travel straight to his groin, so Tom slows down a little and begins asking her questions about her life in Chicago and family in Puerto Rico. Once she warms to the topic, she’s unstoppable. Gesticulating with her free hand, she shares insights into her past that he’ll treasure forever.

He realizes he’s entirely too used to the sound of his own voice. Whenever he’s not lecturing, he’s discussing something or other with the people around him. It’s oddly freeing to do the listening for once, especially as Thalia has such a wealth of interesting knowledge to share. He’s torn between wanting to close his eyes and imagine what she’s conjuring, picturing her as a young girl full of spunk, much more carefree than now, and between wanting to stare at her so he won’t miss a thing.

He’s half-forgotten to eat because he’s noticed something fascinating: The more she immerses herself in her stories, the more pronounced her Latina accents becomes. It’s always there when she speaks, in the way she draws out vowels sometimes or will roll an r when she’s emotional, but being in her company regularly has sort of desensitized his ears to it. Right now, she slips into the lilting cadence and rapid rhythm of it as if diving underwater. It’s so sexy it should be illegal, and part of him has the weird urge to eavesdrop on her having a Spanish conversation with someone.

Before they know it, they have devoured most of the delicacies and polished off another glass of wine each.

Tom sits back with an exaggerated groan and pats his belly.

“I’m so full I’m going to burst.”

Thalia reaches over automatically, her fingers gliding over the hard ridges and indents of his abs.

“Liar. I can’t detect any bulging stomach at all.”

Delighted that she’s touching him – which happens much too rarely yet for his liking – he captures her hand in his. Slowly, he pushes it lower so her fingers graze over his pants.

“That’s because the bulge you’re looking for is quite a bit lower down,” he murmurs, one brow quirked suggestively.

There it is again, her lovely, freckle-speckled blush. But she doesn’t draw her hand away. When he places it over his cock which is half erect from listening to her talking so sexily, she strokes him lightly through the material.

Tom hums in appreciation and pulls her in for a kiss, tasting a myriad of food on her tongue when it tangles with his.

He leans back, shifting so that her fingers aren’t touching him so intimately anymore. Making a mental note to himself to encourage her to touch, explore and have her fill of him some time soon, he tries to keep his cool because they haven’t even made it to dessert yet.

“You know, I’m surprised you haven’t criticized me for another humongous dating mistake I’ve made,” he teases, mischief dancing in his blue eyes.

She frowns. “What mistake?”

He feigns shock, happy when she laughs at his scandalous expression.

“Why, what’s a date without dancing?” he asks, leaping from his chair and tugging her up with him.

“Dancing?” She looks at him as though he’s suddenly grown horns.

“Here? Now? But…but…” she splutters, “We don’t even have music, and…”

Tom holds up a finger. He leaves her standing there, watching him in a daze as he flits around the room and grabs his iPhone. Within a minute, Latin music is playing. Thalia’s eyes widen even more as the first words of Ricky Martin’s Vente Pa’ Ca can be heard. She shakes her head at him, a slow grin spreading.
He clicks his finger and shimmies to the almost hypnotic beat, advancing towards her with his hands outstretched.

“Come on, darling, dance with me.” Searching for the half-forgotten words of Spanish from his high-school days, he coaxes her with “baila conmigo” in a low, inviting tone that promises much more than just a dance.

“You’re unbelievable,” he hears her say more to herself than him, but her feet are already carrying her closer.
“I’d never have guessed the prim and proper British professor listens to music like this,” she confesses, and he throws his head back to laugh.

“What, are you doubting my dancing skills? It’s all in the hips, darling. Hips don’t lie.”

Tom grasps her hands and pulls her closer, moving to the beat and grinding his hips against her to prove his point.

The next song is a bit slower, so he shifts to embrace her and hold her close, one hand on the small of her back, the other holding hers. They sway and gyrate, and twice he takes command to make her twirl on his arm. His hand moves lower until he can dip his fingers beneath her panties and fondle her ass while he presses closer and feels her full tits strain against him.

At the end of the third song, he dips her low and leans over her to kiss her.

The kiss goes on and on, and they both resurface breathless.

Taking a step back although he doesn’t want to break their connection, Tom kisses the top of her head.

“Ready for dessert yet?”

She nods, her breath coming out in ragged pants that fuel his desire. God, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to control himself around her. It’s like his body needs to have her, any and every way he can, all the time. But he doesn’t want to overwhelm her.

Pampering and seducing, Hiddleston, not shagging like rabbits, he reminds himself.

Grabbing the tray laden with decadent dessert, he walks over to the king-size bed. He places the tray down carefully, plonks himself down across from it with crossed legs, and crooks a finger at Thalia.

“Come over here, love, let your man feed you some treats that are almost as sweet and sinful as you taste when you come all over his tongue.”

He can see her shiver when she joins him on the bed. After some consideration, he picks out a tiny fruit tart and holds it out.

The sight of her mouth closing on the berries and cream is something he won’t forget soon, as is her low moan of appreciation.

“Did you know that the strawberry has been considered a potent aphrodisiac ever since the times of Ancient Rome?” he asks, licking his fingertips and choosing a tiny glass with caramel pudding next.

“I did, actually.” She grins at him, smugly lifting her eyebrows.

Tom grins back. “Why am I not surprised?” In a more serious tone, he adds, “It’s such a huge turn on how smart you are. Don’t let anyone ever dumb you down because they’re scared of your wit or jealous of your intelligence. If a man can’t handle the sharpness of your brain, then he isn’t worth the softness of your body.”

Thalia blinks at him, and something glitters in her eyes. “You say the loveliest things,” she whispers.

“And I mean them.”

They stare at each other for a moment. To lighten the mood, Tom dips a long finger into the creamy pudding and holds it in front of her face.

He doesn’t even have to prompt her; she darts out her tongue to lick the sweet treat from his digit, completely surprising him when she adds a none too gentle bite at the end.

“That’s my girl,” he praises her softly, his voice a low purr. He chooses a small triangle of gateau and takes her hand. This time, he dips her finger in it before leaning forward and sucking it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it.

The rest of the dessert is devoured in the same manner. They share some more sensual kisses in between, but Tom makes sure to keep the pace slow and steady.

Finally, they’re done with dessert. He draws back from a nut-and-chocolate-flavored kiss, nips her chin and licks a wet stripe across her throat.

For now, he wants to keep her in a state of arousal but let it simmer beneath the surface for a little while longer before they act upon it.

He leans back and settles himself on the bed more comfortably, pushing the dinner tray to the side. Thalia takes that as a sign to be more at ease. She crosses her legs, and it pleases him that she’s now a little less self-conscious about only wearing her set of matching bra and panties.

“Tom, can I ask you something?”

“Anything, darling. Ask and ye shall receive.” He smiles, wondering what it is she might want to know.

“Why did you come to America? I heard you had a pretty nice post at Cambridge. You don’t seem to know anyone here… I mean, not that I’d know that, but…there’s no family or anyone here to connect you to the place, is there?”

He shifts, not exactly eager to discuss this. He’s been a family man for most of his life, but once his sisters got settled in their marriages and his friends moved all over the world, they’ve all lost touch a little. And he’s discovered that being a loner isn’t so bad either.

“I left England because I got into a spot of bother at campus,” he admits.

A worried look crosses Thalia’s face, and he realizes how his words could be misinterpreted.

“No, no, no, nothing like that. I didn’t get into trouble with women, if that’s what you think.” He sits up and gesticulates to make her understand, because it’s important to him that she sees how special she is. “I don’t make a habit of having affairs with students, believe me. This with you…it’s one of a kind, and I can’t even really explain it.”

She looks relieved, one hand playing idly with her hair.

With a sigh, he spills the beans. “Actually, there was this pompous duke whose good-for-nothing son was in my class. You know the type, those insufferable spoiled brats who are born with a silver spoon and think the rest of the world was made to bow to their every wish and lick their shiny loafers.”

They share a chuckle, but the memory throws a shadow over his mood. “He was a horrible student, probably because he never bothered with any homework. But his father was none too pleased with the low grades. Instead of telling his offspring to get his bloody ass into gear and study, he stormed into my office, simpering glorified secretary in tow, and demanded that I make an exception and give his boy a better grade.”

Anger tightens his jaw, a muscle ticking. “He had the cheek to offer me money when I refused.”

He glances at Thalia, who’s staring at him wide-eyed. “I may have become a bit loud after that.” Shrugging and grinning sheepishly, he admits, “Lost my temper because his behavior summed up so much of what I think is wrong in this world of class and privilege. To cut the long story short, he had me expelled and my name dragged through mud, though there wasn’t really anything bad to spread about me.”

“Oh, Tom, I’m so sorry, that’s so damn unfair!” Thalia reaches out and squeezes his hand, and it makes him way too happy that she’s taking his side.

With another shrug, he tries to let the past rest. “I guess I got what I deserved. It was foolish of me to think I could change what has been festering away in the English society for centuries.”

He leans away and drinks the rest of his water, licking his lips and noticing her gaze drop to them.

“Anyway, a friend of mine who was working here and held the same position I’m holding now wanted to be transferred to Canada as he’d fallen in love with a Canadian woman. Remember Professor Harelson? He suggested I should leave all the fuss behind and start anew. I was a bit worried they wouldn’t accept me, but the Dean had a hearty laugh at the story and urged me to accept. So…here I am.”

He spread his arms wide, and they smiled at each other.

“I love that about you Americans,” he added. “You’re not strung up on any of that hoity-toity stuff. Although I have to say I’ll never get over the way you lot are butchering the English language and haven’t got the faintest idea about the art of making a cup of tea.”

Thalia laughed and rolled her eyes. She playfully punched his arm. “Oh my god, you’re such a snob. Next you’ll be expecting me to curtsy and bless everyone who crosses my path after saying sorry for at least three things I didn’t even do.”

Tom snatches her hand and brings it to his mouth, scraping his teeth across her knuckles and then her palm.

“If you roll your eyes at me one more time, young lady, you’ll get a real spanking, I warn you.”

She yanks her fingers out of his grip. Despite her blush, he can sense her grow worried again. She gnaws on her lower lip, making him itch to do the same before placing love bites all over her delectable body.

“Darling, what’s the matter? You can always tell me if something bothers you.”

She lowers her gaze, one finger tracing invisible patterns on the sheet. Her fidgeting has him intrigued and waiting with bated breath to know what she has to say.

“Are you… do you… I mean, um… Are you one of those men?”

He quirks a brow at her and places his hand on hers to still the nervous movement. “One of which type of men, darling? There are so many of us,” he laughs, trying to put her at ease. “Thalia, talk to me, I’ve told you how important it is for what we’re sharing.”

After drawing in a fortifying breath, she nervously forces the words out in a rush. “Are you into the whole BDSM thing? One of those men who need to dominate women and cause them pain to get it off?”

The slight quiver of fear in her voice unsettles him, but he also has a hell of a time keeping a straight face because it all strikes him as so funny too.

He lifts her chin with his free hand until she meets his gaze.

“Have I shown any trouble with getting it off so far?”

She blushes a deeper shade of crimson and shakes her head.

“And did I hurt you when we were together?”

“No.” This time, she looks surer of herself.

“There’s your answer then.”

Tom leans in for a slow and heated kiss, making love to her mouth until tension has left her body and she moans for more.

“I do like being in control,” he clarifies softly. “But no, I’m not ‘into the whole BDSM thing’, as you so nicely put it. I tried it out once though.”

It’s his turn to blush and break eye contact, but he needs her to hear this. “It was…an interesting experience, let’s say it like that. An eye opener. I tried out both, being a dom and being a sub. And neither was really my cup of tea.”

He looks at her again, noticing her surprise. “While I do enjoy some milder aspects of it, I will never do anything to cause you pain. And I’ll never force you to do anything you don’t want, though I might test your limits a bit off and on. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes,” she says immediately, her voice husky as if the thought arouses her more.

He wants her, so fiercely he’s burning up from the inside. But he needs to make something clear first.

“Thalia, what you said about BDSM…”

She notices his serious tone and starts fidgeting again. “Yes?”

“It may seem like that because of a certain bestselling book and the media, but BDSM isn’t about pain. And it certainly isn’t about getting off on someone else feeling uncomfortable. Quite the opposite, actually.”

Confusion knits her brows. “What do you mean? All that hitting and tying someone up and denying them pleasure…”

With a sigh that shows his frustration with himself and general misconceptions more than with her, Tom runs a hand through his hair.

“It’s…complicated. Ultimately, a dom may challenge his sub and dare her to try out new experiences or even test her pain threshold, but at the core of it is his wish to give her unimaginable pleasure. And a true dom will always respect his sub’s wishes. If she says no, then that means no.”

He wonders how he can really get through to her. She’s listening intently, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth.

“Coercion isn’t part of it, Thalia. Whatever is done when two people play a game, whether it’s tame roleplaying or hardcore BDSM, is done on mutual agreement. And a real dom will always take care of his sub afterwards.”

He lifts her chin to look into her eyes. “Do you understand what I mean?”

“I…I think I do, yes. It’s fascinating in a way, but it’s always also kind of scared me,” she admits.

Giving her a tender smile, he says, “Yes, it can be a bit overwhelming, especially if you’re in the wrong hands or simply rely on what the public portrays wrongly.”

Leaning forward, he adds in an urgent, low tone, “This is why I have asked you before to voice your consent, to say ‘yes’ instead of nodding. I want you to know what will happen, even if you might not have experienced it before and cannot truly ‘know’ in the sense of the word. And I promise, I’m never going to do anything that would hurt you or that you do not agree to.”

She swallows, the frown slowly easing. “O-okay. Thank you for explaining it to me, Professor. You’re a good teacher.” Her lids flutter half-closed as she gives him a shy but alluring look from beneath them. “I think I enjoy handing over control to you when we…when we are together.”

Tom can’t help himself, he needs to steal another kiss. He lowers his hand to unsnap her bra, and gropes and caresses her plump globes. His thumb brushes over her hardening nipples, eliciting soft whimpers. His mouth follows the path of his fingers, making her quiver.

“A tiny bit of pain can work wonders, you know,” he murmurs against her skin before clamping his teeth around one beaded tip and tugging once.

“Unhhh…”

Thalia arches into him, and he chuckles, treating the other nipple to the same mix of pleasure and pain.

“I see you get my point.”

Shifting, he pushes her onto her back and lies down beside her, propping himself up on one arm. His other hand continues to tease her breasts.

“I take it you’ve never tried anything even remotely BDSM?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

She shakes her head, lids fluttering as she struggles to keep her eyes open while he strokes and tweaks expertly. Tom leans in and licks the shell of her ear. He dips his tongue in, making her squeak. When he bites the lobe, the startled sound turns into a drawn-out moan.

“Do you ever pleasure yourself, darling?”

Her embarrassed giggle morphs into a whimper when he bites down at the sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder, soothing his tongue over it repeatedly.

“Ye-esss.”

“Good girl. Do you have any toys?”

He feels her freeze against him. One hand comes up to shield her flushed face, but he moves it away.

“No hiding, Thalia,” he scolds her gently. “You never have to be embarrassed with me, do you understand?”

Her voice is breathy when she finally replies. “Yes. I… I have a vibrator. B-but I don’t use it often.”

Fuck, thinking of her with her toy is going to be enough to get him through his lonely nights. He’d give a fortune to see her like that. Will she maybe even let him use it on her in the future?

Tom doesn’t hold back his groan. Her confession has his thoughts running wild and he wants her to see how desirable she is to him. He continues to lavish attention on her body, kissing a nipple and sucking it into his mouth. He pauses and looks up at her beneath hooded lids.

“Do you ever think of me when you pleasure yourself?”

Her teeth dig into her lip in that gesture he finds so arousing. She nods once, sucking in a breath when he nips her pebbled bud again.

“God, darling, that’s so hot,” he growls.

Instead of moving lower and giving her what her shifting, bucking hips beg for, he withdraws and stretches back out by her side.

Leaning close but stopping short of her mouth, he whispers roughly, “I want you to do it now. Touch yourself for me. Make yourself come while I watch and listen.”

Thalia whimpers again, but he can see the uncertainty in her dark eyes.

“I’ve never done that before,” she says, “with anyone watching.”

He slicks his tongue over her parted lips. “There’s a first time for everything. And I have a feeling a lot of them are going to be with me. Let me teach you how wonderful sex can be. You deserve it.”

After a passionate kiss to quell her doubts, Tom leans down and removes her panties, planting gentle bites along her legs as he draws them off. He pushes her thighs apart and gives her one long lick that has her curse and writhe.

“Come on, darling,” he coaxes. “Do it to please me. Didn’t you want to be oh so naughty this morning when you taunted me in that outfit? Now’s your chance to let your naughty side out to play.”

Tentatively, she moves a hand to her breast and toys with a chocolate-colored nipple, and it’s enough to make him rock hard.

“That’s my good girl. If it helps, close your eyes and tell yourself it’s me who’s touching you.”

She does just that, and gradually her touches become bolder.

While one hand fondles her breast, the other travels down to her glistening cunt. She runs a finger through her folds, making him ache to do the same. Collecting some of her wetness, she rubs slow circles around her clit, dipping down and up, swirling her fingers faster.

Her moans mix with his.

“There you go, darling. You can’t imagine how beautiful you are like this. Come all over your hand while I watch you being so deliciously naughty.”

When she mewls and slips a finger inside, gyrating her ample hips, Tom can’t resist anymore. He chucks his pants quickly and takes himself into his hand, stroking his cock in sync with her movements. Her eyes fly open at the sound and her moans grow louder. As if hypnotized, her gaze stays on him fisting his length while she brings herself closer and closer to the edge.

“Ah…fuck, you’re so sexy,” he groans, quickening his pace.

Thalia spreads her legs wider and rubs her clit with one hand while using her other hand to finger-fuck herself. It’s all he can do to not spill his seed immediately.

Cursing and grinding his teeth, Tom waits for her to reach her peak first. When she does so with desperate keening, he squeezes harder and faster, leans over and shoots all over her thigh.

Before she has a chance to become shy again or come down from her high, he brushes away one hand and replaces the finger on her clit with his tongue. He inserts a digit into her slick heat alongside hers, and the new sensation of both of them touching her so intimately makes her shout.

Thrashing and gasping his name, she comes a second time, drenching their joined hands.

It takes him a while to catch his breath, and he’s sure the sight of her pleasuring herself and coming so beautifully will be emblazoned on his mind for the rest of his life.

Jesus fucking Christ, how incredibly hot.

Weakly, he drags himself off the bed and staggers into the bathroom to clean up. He returns with a warm washcloth to wipe their come from Thalia’s body and press a few gentle kisses onto her exposed skin.

Silently, he disposes of the wet cloth and climbs back into bed next to her.

“Sleep now, darling.” He moves with her in his arms so he can spoon her and keep her close, and she sighs softly. When he nudges a long leg in between her thighs and slings an arm around her, she grabs his hand and entwines their fingers.

“I could get used to this,” Tom thinks to himself, feeling so blissed out he doesn’t want to move for ages.

“Me too,” comes the soft whisper, and he realizes with a start that he’s said the words out loud.

Shit. Not the wisest thing to do, because they both know this will be difficult. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood, but there’s no way he can just let it hang like this.

“Thalia?”

“Mhm?” comes her sleepy reply.

Tom shifts, which only makes her snuggle closer into his embrace.

“I…I’m not sure how often we can manage an escape like this. We… it’s important for both of us that we don’t get caught, and…”

Dammit, he’s fucking this up royally.

She gives his fingers a squeeze, and her tone is a little more alert when she replies, “I know, Tom. I’m no small child dreaming up fairy tales.”

That hurts. With a sigh, he nuzzles her neck, breathing in the scents of her shampoo and their sexual activity.

“I wish I could give you a fairytale, my warrior princess,” he whispers, and in that moment, he means it with all his heart. But he knows that harsh reality will catch up with them soon enough, so he forces the next words out.

“We should probably, um, see other people off and on, just to throw people off, you know.”

He can feel her tense and automatically brushes his thumb over her hand soothingly.

“See? As in date?” she asks, and he can’t read the emotion lurking in her voice.

Nodding against her hair, he explains reluctantly, “Just a date here and there, so it looks less suspicious when we’re together so much for various fake reasons.”

“Yeah, would probably make sense.”

Tom leans up a little to make out her expression, but she’s half-hidden behind her wild mane of hair and he can only see that she’s closed her eyes.

Deciding to let the matter rest, he briefly disentangles his fingers so he can pull the sheet over their naked bodies.

“Sleep now,” he commands softly again, and after a few moments, her breathing evens out.

Click here for Chapter 9, Dating Fiasco

Copyright © 2017  avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom and devikafernando

 

Let Them Watch

 

Let them watch.png

Let Them Watch

By avenger-nerd-mom

*a Chris Evans Fan Fiction*

Chris x OFC (First Person)

Chris Evans and his new girlfriend, a sassy plus sized woman, are spotted out on the town

Warnings: Language, Adult Situations, Fat Shaming, Bullying, Self-Esteem issues, Verbal Confrontation

Word Count 2632

Click here for Beautiful Design to see how Chris meets this lovely lady!

Adjusting my skirt, I freeze when the shrill voices and laughter enter the room.  “Did you see the girl he’s with?!  Oh my God; she needs her own zip code.”

A blush creeps over my face.  I know what everyone else in the restaurant looked like.  She can only be talking about me.  Living in Hollywood is a nightmare… I stay hidden in the bathroom stall, hoping they will leave soon and I can make my exit unnoticed.

“Well, she has a pretty face?  Maybe she’s really sweet?” replies another voice.  Her, I like.

“Get off it, a pretty face and nice personality can only get you so far,” chimes in a third woman.

The sound of the water faucet turns on and I can hear the women shuffling through their handbags for lipstick touch ups.

“In heels she’s practically taller than him!  And she really should cover up her arms with a sweater or something.”

“A black and white dress? She looks like Shamu!”

The girls dissolve into a fit of giggles, one of them actually making what I can only guess are supposed to be whale sounds.  Tears sting my eyes but I’ve dealt with women like them my whole life.

“All the gossip sites say he’s into kink… Who knew that’s what they meant!”

“I hear he likes it rough; she’s definitely got more cushion for pushin’!  But a man like that needs a woman like me.  I’d look good on his arm; something to be proud of showing off.”

I take a deep breath and adjust myself again before exiting the stall.  When the door opens I can see my reflection in the mirror as they all freeze.  Tears glisten my eyes as I look straight ahead and wash my hands.  I smooth the top of the tight Liberty Roll in my fair hair and flounce the longer waves over my shoulders, before turning to the one I think mouths off the most.

“Oh, honey, you have no idea how he likes his kink!  He’d break a skinny bitch like you in half!  He needs someone who is ALL woman,” I say, running my hands over my curves before I exit the room.  As I open the door, I look back over my shoulder at the other two staring at the leader, and I can only see her backside.  “And baby, you ain’t got the ass it takes to make a man like him happy.”

On the other side of the closed door, I lean against the hallway wall, taking a deep breath, counting slowly to get control of my tears and anger.  I did not take all that time to get my cat eye makeup perfect to ruin it with tears, I think bitterly to myself.  I don’t want to be standing there when they exit, so I gather my composure quickly and head back to the table.  I don’t want Christopher to see me upset.  He already worries about enough things… I don’t want to add my small bouts of insecurities to that mix.

Crossing the room, I can feel eyes watching me and hear soft giggles and possible comments under people’s breath.  I soften again as I see Christopher’s eyes sparkle in the low light as I move closer to him.  His appreciative stare causes my heart to flutter.  I approach our table and he rises, always a gentleman.  He puts his hand on my waist and kisses my cheek. God, he smells so good.  I reach passed him to pick up my handbag, and choke out the words, “I’d like to go.  I’ll meet you outside.”

“But I just ordered dessert?” Chris says, confused, his hand still on my waist.

I shake my head.  “I’m not hungry.  Can we please just go?”  Tears are threatening to spill from my eyes and from their corners, I can see the three women returning to their table, watching us. Watching me.  I don’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing that their words hurt.

Chris watches me closely as the waiter approaches our table.  His vision flickers in their direction before I begin to walk away, doing my best to keep my head high and hold my dignity.  Moments later, his large, warm hand is on my lower back, ushering me out the door.  We take a few steps away from the doorway, down the sidewalk when he grabs at my arm, spinning me around.  “Did I do something wrong?  What am I missing?”

The pain on his face is evident.  I gently cup his beard in my hand, and he moves his head in my hand just enough to tickle my palm.  I slowly smile, getting my sense of us back. “Christopher, honey, you didn’t do anything.  It’s just…” From the corner of my eye, I see a photographer move towards us snapping photos.  I nod my head in that general direction and Chris winks to show me he caught on to it also.  “I wanna go home.  Let’s get out of here.”

Chris sighs deeply, taking my hand in his and says, “Whatever you want, sunshine.”

I giggle at his nickname for me- Sunshine.  He says he’s always amazed by my happiness and enthusiasm; that I add light to his day.  If he only knew it was sometimes like a personal pep talk right to my soul…  I let my inner struggles roll off, pulling myself to my full height next to him.  Walking along, I bump into his arm playfully.  “Does it bug you when I wear heels?  I’m almost taller than you!”

He stops walking and I laugh as I turn to him.  “What?”

“Are you fucking kidding with this?” he asks.  “Why wouldn’t I want you to wear heels?!  For the first time in ages I can do this without having to twist and bend down.”  He tugs on the strap of my sundress and pulls me to him, a twinkle in his eye.  He keeps one hand wrapped through the strap of my dress and puts the other in my hair, pulling my lips to his.  “Ignore the fucking cameras,” he whispers as his brush against mine softly and tenderly, teasing me.  He gently opens his mouth, sucking my top lip in between his sweet grip, the tip of his tongue caressing it.  His nose innocently brushes against mine. His antagonizing seduction instantly makes me wet and a groan rumbles in the back of my throat.  The bristles of his beard edge my mouth as he chastely finishes the kiss and backs away, holding me tight as my knees slightly give way, crushed under the power of his mouth.

“Does that answer your question?” he chuckles.  “Wear heels.  Especially later, when this dress is off you,” he challenges quietly, moving again towards the car.

When we reach the car, instead of opening the door for me, he pushes me against it, firmly planting his hand on my ribcage.  “Whatever it is,” Chris whispers in my ear.  “You don’t have to be tough all the time; you can share your hurt with me.  I won’t think less of you and it won’t change the way I feel.”

I sigh deeply, shaking my head at his intuitiveness.  “Christopher, I don’t want to do this here.”  I try to keep stiff, guarded, knowing cameras are lurking in the shadows, but Chris clearly has other things on his mind as his hands roam down my arms.  The goosebumps that form have nothing to do with the cool evening air.

“Fine then.  We won’t talk.  We’ll just make out in front of these photographers.  We’ve got time to kill,” he said before throwing his plump, wet lips against my neck, seeking the spot he knows makes me squirm every time!   Damn! My ticklish spot!

I squeal, attracting attention of the paparazzi.  “Quit that!”  I giggle.  “What are you doing?”

“Waiting on the waiter to bring out my real dessert…”

“Oh, my God! Are you joking?”

“I can’t help it,” Chris laughs, his breath warm against my neck.  “I like all things sweet.” 

“We’re being watched…” I sigh, not really wanting him to stop.

He tilts his head to place a delicate open mouthed kiss on my hummingbird tattoo.  Instinctively my eyes close and my head falls back as his cradles it in one of his large hands, his other roaming down my side.  His distractions nearly clear the tabloid photogs from my mind.  “Let them watch…”

Running his mouth up my neck, his beard scratches my skin as his lips move to mine. Oh, my god, who taught this boy to kiss? She deserves a medal… Up close under the street lights, I can see the devilish gleam in his eyes.  “What are you up to, Christopher?”

“Shh…,” he whispers, closing his mouth over mine with a little more force this time.

Our private bubble bursts at the sound of high pitched giggles and deep laughter.  The photographers seem to step back into the darkness of the night as the group of mean girls and their men walk in front of our car.  My posture instantly locks, anticipating a final retaliation for my bold words in the washroom.

Chris must sense the change in me, asking quietly, his voice vibrating against me, “Babe? Is that it?  Did one of those women say something to you?”

He takes the dessert box from the young waiter who has made his delivery, offering him another tip and nodding his thanks.  He barely takes his eyes off me during the exchange.  His stare makes me want to come clean, to tell him my fears, to wonder aloud if he’s made the wrong choice.  People will always be watching us, for his fame or my size…  Let them watch, he said…  I sigh in frustration.  He’s right.   We sure as hell can’t hide all the time….

“Not to me… I overheard them talking,” I admit, moving aside as Chris reaches around me to finally open the door.

Before helping me in the car, he kisses me tenderly, chuckling quietly and placing the box with his sweet treat in the back.  I watch with desire as he crosses in front of the car under the glow of the parking lights.  His shorter hair mimics a James Dean quality and matches the rockabilly style I often like to wear. His jeans hug at his tapered waist just right and the t-shirt rides up a bit with each stride of his legs, allowing a glimpse at his glorious Adonis belt.  There’s a reason I can’t seem to keep my hands off him.  He is without a doubt; the sexiest man I have ever seen.

Settling in the car, he takes my hand, kissing the back of it gently.  “Sunshine, when you got up from the table, all heads turned to watch you.”  He makes a tsking sound when I scoff at his words.  “Not for the reason you think, babe…. The sway of your hips?  Drives a man crazy…  The front view; the bounce?  The deep cleavage?  A man wants to get lost in there for days.  You’re everything those women aren’t and they were jealous.”

“You sweet man.  I love that you are so blind, but they said everything I think.”

“Then tell yourself to ‘shut up.’  I see an amazing, talented, funny, charismatic business woman, with great taste in fashion and men,” he smiles, pointing at himself.  “Trust me.  I don’t tell stories; I just act them out on screen.  You’ve known me for months.  Do I waste my time on things that aren’t worth it?”

“No…” I answer quietly, consoled by his words, finding additional strength in them.

“I can’t imagine you stayed too quiet after hearing them speak…” he starts, watching as the smile grows on my face.  “What did you do?” he asks warmly.

I giggle, sharing with him the story of my encounter with the mean girls.  Laughing so hard, he hits the steering wheel, beeping the horn and startling a young couple walking to their car.  “You actually said that to her?!  That’s awesome! I bet she learns to keep her mouth shut,” he wheezes out.

I shake my head, “Girls like her never learn.  If God has a sense of humor, she’ll get old and fat one day too….” I pinch the bridge of my nose, thinking about what I said.  “I didn’t mean that.  Everybody is what they are. Size and shape doesn’t change you, or make you better or worse than anyone else. She’d still be bitter, just about something else.”

“See?  That? That’s why you’re my ‘Sunshine.’” Chris winks at me, starting the ignition and slowly backing the car out of the tight space.  “You could let it get you down, but you don’t dwell on it.  Some stupid bitch you’ll never see again shouldn’t have power over you… But you have got to depend on me. I’m strong, baby, you know that. I can bear that weight with you.”

I chuckle at his word choice, watching the passing lights and shoppers along Rodeo Drive.

“Seriously.  I have to get you to see what I see, and my words aren’t getting through that beautiful, thick skull of yours,” Chris says, tapping his finger against the steering wheel.  “I got it!” he shouts in the confined space, laughing when I jump.  “What are you doing this weekend?”

Confused, I turn to look at him, wondering about the giant smile spreading across his face.  “I don’t know?  Why? Whatdya have in mind?”

Chris waves a pedestrian across before advancing at the green light.  “I’m thinking we need to go home to Boston,” his voice trails off, watching me from the corner of his eye.

“What? Boston? Why?” I ask, my speech nearly impaired from this suggestion.  “Christopher, we haven’t been dating that long.  Why would you take me to Boston?”

He turns off the road, taking the more scenic route back to his newly redecorated home, courtesy of me and my design team.  He shrugs his shoulders, waving his hand like an invitation home, to meet his family, is no big deal.  It’s a big fucking deal.  “Some of those pictures from the parking lot will be all over the internet.  I wouldn’t have let them be taken if I didn’t want them.  How often do you see pap shots of me in the press?  Those photos are to show you, and the world, I don’t care what size your dress is.  You are fucking perfect for me.”  He continues to watch the road carefully, slowing as a deer crosses our path. “Look out, Bambi,” he mumbles under his breath.  “Mom will want to meet you; the girl I allowed myself to get photographed with…”

Anxiously, my shaking hands brush my hair to the side and tie it in a low knot, a nervous habit.  “You want me to meet your mom?”

“If words can’t tell you how alluring I think you are, maybe it’s time you meet the three most important women in my life.  You’ll see how beautiful they are to me,” he explains, his voice nearly choked in emotion.  “You’ll know then you are beautiful to me because of you, inside and out.”

Chris’s mom and sisters shaped the man he is; although I haven’t met them yet, I bought frames for all the pictures of them displayed in his home.  The soft spot in our hearts for the handsome man beside me isn’t the only thing we have in common, I think, picturing the lovely women in my mind.  My voice is also strangled with emotion, “Well, then, I guess we’re going to Boston this weekend.”

Click here to read “Dancing Lessons”

Copyright © 2016 avenger-nerd-mom.  All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom