You are dragged to a dance club only to meet a nice Cambridge boy who likes dancing. You didn't know how much one dance would change your life.
Having no experience at this, and feeling the moment is quickly slipping away, you blurt out, "I make a really good breakfast."
"Full English," he says, a bit more excited sounding than he thought he should and cursing himself internally at it.
“Hot on the plate at the same time,” you reply with a slight smile.
He suddenly asks, "How is it you are still single?" You know he didn’t intend for it to be rude, but you were always the one without a date for dances, plays, or the movies. It feels like a bucket of ice water has just been dumped on you.
"What?" You try to back up but are still trapped between him and the beloved bookcase. You play it off as best you can, shrugging and stating matter-of-factly, "I'm a clumsy, bookworm who knows more about Shakespeare, Star Trek, and Doctor Who than how to be a social butterfly. I also tend to be too broadminded and vocal about my causes than most people are comfortable with."
You see a soft smile play on his lips, as he reaches up to tenderly touch you. He leans in and gives you a tender kiss. “I find those qualities intriguing.”
"I'm not very good at this,” you tell him.
"I am no Don Juan either," he avers, blushing and giving you space to move.
Pulling off the filled extra-large condom, he looks around the room. You point toward a trashcan just visible between the breakfast nook and the den. "You sounded confident back in the club, like you do this sort of thing often. I mean, a handsome guy like you wouldn't have any trouble picking up gals."
"I like dancing, but no I don't really like picking up random girls. They aren't stimulating." He tucks himself back into his pants and strides to the rubbish bin. He discards the used latex and returns to take your hands, leading you to sit on the couch with him.
You tug your skirt back down before taking a seat on the soft cushion. "I was only there tonight to be my roomie's driver. I much prefer to do my dancing in private." Good Lord! What was wrong with you tonight? Did you really just say that aloud?
"I was sold on the dancing, but same. I don't like club sluts."
Club sluts he said. That really did describe Lisa on weekends. Maybe your Mr. Cambridge wasn’t so bad if he would pass up her to go for someone like you. ‘Your,’ as if he was going to stick around. "I hope you don't think of me as a slut. This is the first time I've done anything like this."
"My friend didn't want to ditch me for your friend. The two of them had to work very hard to convince me of you." Your eyes must narrow dangerously, because he backpedals quickly. “I mean, once I saw you, they didn’t have to. I’m bumbling this,” he laughs, looking down in a self-deprecating way.
You realize he’s just as nervous as you are and decide to let the slight go. "I have many shortcomings. I’m glad you decided to give me a chance.”
He looks up at you. There’s something about the way he looks at you that does so much. "I wouldn't be here otherwise."
"I honestly don't know what to do now." I give him a helpless look. "Do I show you the bedroom, kick you out, or wait for you to make an excuse to leave?"
"I wouldn't mind some pudding, and a nice discussion about how you came to own some of those lovely leather bound texts behind you." He said softly. Gone was the seductive tone. It was a much different one, but not a bad one. It still did things to you; it felt a lot more real as well.
You laugh softly, nodding. You stand, glancing around for your panties. You wonder briefly where they ended up when you don’t see them. Moving to the kitchen, you are surprised when he is mere inches from you. You reach your hand back for his and he readily takes it, entwining his long fingers with yours. Your hand seems so small in his large one, you think, but the enveloping warmth is nice. He tugs you to a stop and kisses you again, softly, and with silent promise of more. He directs you to sit on a bar stool while he plays a guessing game with where things are kept in the cabinets. You are both in giggles by the time you are both seated at the bar with lemon cake and hot tea.
You see a warmth in his eyes as he looks at you, not one of hunger and lust, but one of affection. You dismiss it, thinking how could that possibly be, you both just met.
"You wanted to know about my books? They're the results of weekend scavenging at bargain sales held throughout the countryside. I bid to have a crack at the libraries of decrepit estates and manor homes.” You pause a moment to take a bite of cake and sip the tea. "Do you have any hobbies?"
"A few. Besides dancing, and a love of music, I love tennis and running."
"You obviously love good books, too. In regards to music, do you play an instrument or sing, or do you merely enjoy the efforts of others?"
You see him blush but then boast. "I play a number of them, but my chosen one is the guitar. I even brought it with me this weekend,” he states with pride.
"I sing, but am all thumbs on an instrument,” you tell him modestly.
“Hmmm. I would love to hear you sing. Would you sing for me?"
"What? Now?” you squeak. "Can’t we just talk? My vocal cords aren’t warmed up for any real singing."
"Ehehe,” he laughs, “my lips were on your neck; it felt pretty warmed up to me. Come now let me see that lovely throat at work." You blush at his words, thinking of how he would feel slipping into your throat if you were to go down on him. He must deduce where your thoughts have wandered to because he smiles wide. “Do you want to put your mouth and throat to work for me?” The deep tone is back, causing your thighs to clench in response. You lick your lips and look away. Ignoring the double entendre, you indicate, "Maybe next time, if you bring your guitar to accompany me with."
"You would like there to be a next time?" There’s a hopeful note to his question that you don’t miss. When you look at him you see he’s raised an eyebrow at you with a wistful grin.
You chuckle at his expression and feel more at ease. "I'm so nervous. Odd given what we were just recently doing, but I'm nervous sitting here talking to you. It's been almost a year since I was in any sort of a relationship." You stutter to a halt, realizing what you’ve just implied. "Not that this is... I'm not expecting... Oh, bother." You hide your face in your hands.
"You’re cute." He states, reaching out to pull your hands away. You see him peering at you from between your fingers with a warm, understanding smile.
"I've had three dates since then, all of them ending with me calling a cab from the restaurant." There was something about him that had gotten past your usual defenses. What was it about him that had you not only inviting him to your home for a romp, but opening up to him about yourself? You knew so little about him, yet here he was and, if you were completely honest with yourself, didn't want him to go.
Your thoughts are interrupted by the buzzing of your phone. You reach into the hidden pocket of your skirt, pulling out the small device. You flip it open to read the text that Lisa sent.
“Chuck invited me to stay the weekend with him in his hotel. Please tell me things are going well and you want that Adonis to stay with you for the weekend to shag you senseless.” <3 L
"It looks like you've lost your accommodations for the weekend.” You show him the message on the screen, keeping your finger over the last sentence.
"Damn it, he is always doing this to me." He said, running his fingers in frustration though his hair. He didn't know you, you weren't a friend, and didn’t think he couldn't possibly ask it of you. "I guess I will be sleeping in my car then."
"You have nowhere else to go? No family in town?"
"Not anywhere near here. My dad is up in Scotland, and my mum is a bit north of here. I will manage; it won’t be the first time Chuck has done pulled this, but it will be the bloody last," he grumbles in irritation.
"Why don't you stay here?" you ask. You know he's going to completely reject the notion and leave you to feel utterly foolish for offering, but nothing ventured….
He looks at you, incredulous. Did you just ask him that? He heard it, but no you must just feel bad, as your friend is putting him out. "I couldn't possibly impose on you this whole weekend."
You try not to look disappointed. "Oh, um, of course not. It was silly of me to mention it. We barely know one another." You get up to get another cup of tea, but decide to put your empty in the sink instead.
From the corner of your eye, you see him look down at this tea. "I don't want you to have to sleep in your car because of my friend,” you attempt to give both of you an escape from the awkwardness of the situation.
"I won't impose on you because of him... but if you maybe wanted to get to know each other..."
"That doesn’t sound like a bad way to spend the weekend. It might even be fun."
"It is Friday night... we have two days until I need to head back to Cambridge, and you will have an eternally grateful Chuck that I don't drive off and leave his ass here."
This causes me to chuckle. “Since it seems you’re staying, would you care to dance with me again?"
"I would love it,” he replies enthusiastically. “Never need a reason to dance."
We move back to the den where we hear the music still playing. Feeling bold, you step up to him. Tilting your head back to see his eyes, you request, "Hold me close?"
He looks at you bright-eyed and smiling. "I would love to," he says before closing the short distance with open arms.
Stepping into his waiting arms, you feel them close tightly around you. You breathe out and lay your head on his chest. Your head tucks nicely just under his chin, allowing you to again breathe in his scent. Why does this feel like coming home after a long journey? You don't know this man, and yet your senses tell you, you do.
Tom closes his eyes as he holds you and gently sways to the song. It's feeling more and more like an afterthought until you both find yourselves looking into one another’s eyes. It was unspoken, but you both knew what it was, even if you both weren’t ready to admit it aloud.
He starts to say something, but your finger is there against his lips to hold the words back. You press your lips to the spot where your finger just was, hoping to prolong the spell cast in this place and time that makes you think you found someone truly special.
He closes his eyes and deepens the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside your mouth when your lips part. If you would not have verbal words with him, you would have physical ones.
We both pull back in breathless wonder. You tilt your head towards a door just to the side of the bookcases. Our lips find one another again as we move to it. You reach back to twist the knob, swinging the portal to your inner sanctum.