The House Always Wins
By: Andr0gene (andr0gene@hotmail.com)
CHAPTER 13
I guess I'd been pretty tired, because I never heard or noticed it when Michael turned in for the night. When I woke up the next day, he was already gone.
Later that morning, I asked Olivia if she wanted to come with me to go buy the game console. She accepted the invitation, and we spent the next two hours on the town, visiting several stores. It was fun to introduce her into the world of videogames, and she looked at it all wide-eyed and amazed. I bought the console, two controllers and several games, almost drooling when the sales clerk showed me the latest surround sound system for the X-Box. But I didn't think Michael would be too happy if I blew out the windows of the place. Still, it was a nice piece of equipment, and I definitely would buy it when I was on my own; screw the neighbors, right?
I opted for cordless headphones for now, which clearly chagrined the clerk. Bye, bye commission, was probably his line of thought. But when I handed over the credit card, he became very helpful, suddenly remembering some other gadgets I just had to have. I so wasn't interested. Tempted, sure, but this was fine for now. No need to go out on a spree.
Well...maybe not this time...
**********
We came home a little after 1pm, already having lunched at a MacDonald's; Olivia had never visited one before, she admitted. She was giddy like a schoolgirl when we got back, partly because I'd demanded the toy that kids normally get with a Happy Meal, and she babbled my ears off about it, somewhat hurt that I'd had to ask for it; like older people had no right to the toy. Okay, it was a matter of principle, because she didn't really care for the toy itself.
When the door of the elevator opened and I walked out with my arms full, I didn't see that Michael was home; it wasn't a big surprise then that I almost dropped everything when his voice harshly began to tear into us as soon as we stepped out, stopping us dead in our tracks.
"Finally! I make an effort to take time out for lunch, time out of an already hectic daily schedule; the least you two can do is be here," he moodily barked, "especially you, Mother. I thought you were here visiting me, but if you'd rather go out gallivanting around Las Vegas toy stores..."
"Oh, do shut up," she cut him off, causing a baffled expression to appear on his face. "Besides, we've already had lunch. Look, I brought you a present."
She threw the toy figurine to him, which he deftly caught.
"Now be a good boy, and help Jason instead of just standing there, screaming at us; he's not a pack mule, you inconsiderate ape."
"No, I've got it," I said, not wishing to aggravate him any further. But he took a few boxes, lightening the load.
"You could have called. I left you five messages," he said softly, grumpily.
"Sorry, I forgot my cell," I replied, blushing.
I put the boxes on the sofa and, from the corner of my eye, saw Olivia watching. So, as soon as Michael had put his on the sofa next to them, I put a hand on his shoulder and kissed his cheek. He managed to crank out a forgiving smile and pulled me close for a few seconds.
"Alright, you're forgiven. What is all this?" He gestured to the boxes.
"Ah. X-box, games, headphones and some other...stuff," I said, grinning.
The ‘other stuff' consisted of a memory expansion for my laptop, a few books, and a Calvin Klein bag filled with silk ties in many colors.
He picked up the bag and gave me a questioning look.
"We were passing the CK store, and I mentioned something about your ties," I explained. "That they're kinda...boring. Plain."
"Gee, thanks," he said, back in grumpy mode.
What...no good? I sent Olivia an insecure frown; maybe this hadn't been such a good idea? At the time it seemed to be; she told me to do it.
"I can take them back..." I said softly.
I reached for the bag but he held it out of reach and slipped an arm around my middle, planting a warm kiss full on my lips.
"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. Thank you."
He kissed me again, letting it linger a little longer. Then, when he looked up again, he let go. "She's gone."
I looked behind us and saw that Olivia had disappeared; probably gone to her room. I took a step back, away from his imposing form, and sighed, relieved that that act was over.
He held up the bag and a corner of his mouth lifted up. "Nice touch."
"Yeah, until you almost blew it," I replied, taking off my jacket. "We need some sort of signal."
"We just have to get used to it, that's all."
"Get used to what?" Olivia's voice spoke up, returning from her room.
I bit my lower lip guiltily but Michael caught this one.
"Wearing these," he said quickly.
"Oh, that. Well, you may want to listen to Jason on this one; he's got good taste."
I genuinely blushed this time.
"Not that you don't, of course," she said, putting an assuring hand on his arm.
"Right," he mumbled. "Well, if you two have already had lunch, I'll go back down and see if the chef has some spare morsels for me."
The way he said that was downright cute, and I grinned, adding affection by slipping an arm underneath his jacket and around his waist, grazing his cheek.
"Won't happen again," I promised.
"Yes, and we both know that if there's one thing you can't promise, it's being on time," he smiled, slightly narrowing his eyes, questioningly.
Very good guess; I'm a disaster with it.
"Pffft... You said it was charming," I retorted, barely nodding that his guess was correct.
He smiled again and covered my lips with his, softly slapping my ass. Hey!
"I'll see you both at dinner," he grinned. "And if you're late, there'll be hell to pay."
"Michael Bartholomew Black!" His mother spoke chidingly. "Don't you speak to me that way."
"I didn't mean you, Mother," he snickered, nodding towards me and winked. "I meant him."
Olivia actually blushed, and I joined her. The look in his eyes had been somewhat...heated, and that last kiss? He'd tried going for a real one; sneaky bastard.
CHAPTER 14
I went to work, installing the game console, and Olivia watched as I did that, talking about her son.
"I'm amazed," she said. "It seems that you've succeeded where I have not; to get a smile on his face."
I shrugged, plugging a cable in.
"He laughs plenty, if you ask me."
"Well, he used to be so serious and, what's the word...boring. No smiles, no joy."
Michael? Boring? I doubted that.
"Has he told you about...my efforts?"
I grinned and nodded.
"Yeah, he told me."
"I was just trying to get him out there again. Since Simon...you know about him, I take it?" I nodded, tightening a screw.
"Mmm...since Simon, he hasn't dated anyone. Not even once! That's what, two years, now?"
Testing me, Olivia?
"Three."
"Well then, that's even worse."
"He's just very careful," I answered. "He's cautious. Could you hand me that controller? Thanks."
She handed me the box.
"So...the way you met; I'm not entirely clear on that. This Internet thing; how does that work? That doesn't sound very careful to me."
I thought for a moment, trying to come up with an easy explanation.
"Umm...imagine it as a very big city, a worldwide city. All over that city, there are places where people can meet, to talk to each other or to just find information. The US military first developed it, and over time, regular people started to use it, createing places to get together, and talk. We call that ‘chatting'."
"Right," she answered, slowly. "But you can't see each other. So how can you know if someone is likeable?"
"Oh, these days there are things called webcams, so that we can see each other while we chat. That's how Michael and I first met. Well, that's not entirely true; he had one, I didn't. But that's not all of it. The way you chat on the Internet; people are much freer with their opinions, ideas, and such. Even without seeing each other. So by the time you actually see that person, or meet face-to-face, you already know them pretty well."
"I see," she frowned, clearly not understanding. "So he already knew that he liked you, and vice versa, before you even met?"
"Yep."
"This is a very strange concept."
I laughed. "Yeah, I know."
"He asked you to live with him quite quickly, though," she said, thoughtfully. "After seeing you only a few times?"
We hit a snag there - a big one.
"Umm...yeah. We talked a lot, also on the phone, hours and hours. When we finally met, I knew that I liked him. I liked him a lot. And there are some ways to umm...get to know each other."
God I hoped she wouldn't ask me to explain that.
"And Michael liked you, clearly."
"Oh yeah."
Oops...too enthusiastic. Olivia raised an eyebrow.
"Umm...he said so. He's pretty direct - you know how he is."
That was a pure guess and I was treading on dangerous ground. But to my great relief, she nodded and smiled.
"Ah, yes. I think I understand now."
"Well anyway...when I got kicked out of the house, he invited me to stay here for a while; in the guestroom. Umm...I didn't really have a lot of options..."
"And he doesn't take no for an answer easily. Say no more."
"Exactly. And after a while, he asked me to stay, and by that time, we'd gotten to know each other pretty well, so I've stayed."
"I have to say that I'm glad that you met each other. You seem to be exactly what he needed."
I smiled shyly and plugged the last controller in.
"Okay, let's see what this baby can do." I definitely needed some brainless fun now!
**********
As soon as Olivia went to her room, claiming jetlag as a reason to go lie down for a while, I called Michael and brought him up to speed.
"Sorry," I said, "I had to go with it. She kept asking questions."
"Sounds like you did fine. She actually said that?"
"Said what?"
"That you're exactly what I needed?"
"Yeah."
"Hmm..." That sounded thoughtful.
"What?"
"Nothing. I'll be up around six. Go play with your new toys." He hung up abruptly.
Pffft...go play with your toys. What am I, ten?
CHAPTER 15
That evening, after dinner, I remained in the living room, writing a bit in my diary, and watching some TV. Olivia was on the phone in her room, talking to a friend of hers back home. I was just getting ready to settle in with the book I'd gotten from the bedroom, when I heard the elevator arriving at the residence, the soft ping announcing it. I looked at the clock; 8:30pm.
I glanced over the back of the sofa when Michael stepped out.
"Hi," I said, "Did you forget something?"
He frowned.
"What, can't I come home when I feel like it? I‘ll leave again if it's inconvenient, you know," he spoke, his voice low.
Great...he was in a foul mood. I shook my head.
"No, of course not. I just thought..."
"You thought what?"
"Nothing. Forget about it."
"No, please...thrill me with your sharp intellect."
‘I said forget about it, alright?" I replied, irritated. Jesus, what was his problem?
He took a step in my direction, then stopped, shook his head and disappeared down the hallway. He came back half an hour later, cleaned up, wearing a pair of black jeans and a black shirt, with nothing on his feet! Okay, that was...weird. I know I did it because I liked it, but I hadn't seen him do it before.
He went behind the bar and opened the small fridge, taking out a bottle of Heineken and held it up.
"You want water?"
"Umm...sure," I said, looking up.
He brought the beverages over, asking if I wanted a glass. I shook my head, took off the cap, and downed half of it in one gulp. My throat had suddenly felt parched; damn he looked...hot.
He sat down and flicked on the TV. For an entire fifteen minutes I tried to concentrate on the book but seemed to be unable to understand the content. I closed it and snatched the remote from the sofa, where he had put it beside him, and flicked the TV off. He frowned and looked sideways.
"I was watching that," he said, annoyed, pointing to the TV.
"And now you're not," I said, sarcastically. "Why are you here? It not even 9, much less 11."
"So? I'm not allowed to quit early, and relax in front of the TV with a beer?" he responded, irritably.
"Sure, it's your place, but you always work until eleven."
"Oh, I see...you're an expert on me, now?"
"You get up at six, have breakfast, work, lunch, work...bla, bla, bla. Every night you come up around eleven. You disappear into the study, then go to bed," I said, counting off on my fingers. "You're just the most boring person to live with - just totally predictable. And no, I'm not an expert; you said so."
That didn't seem to make his mood a heck of a lot better, judging from the flaming look he sent me. He made a grab for the remote, which I barely got out of his reach in time.
"Hand it over."
I shook my head. "Nope. Something's going on. Tell me."
"Nothing is going on, now give me the remote."
"Sure. You come home at eight, clearly irritated about something. Then you change into something you should wear way more often, by the way, and drink a beer in front of the TV. What's next; cooking classes with Martha?"
A corner of his mouth went up and he turned towards me.
"So you like the clothes?" he asked. He seemed to really want to know the answer.
"What? No...I...Don't change the subject!"
"You said I should wear this more often. So you like it," he said, looking positively smug. "You think I'm attractive."
I said something unintelligible.
"What was that?" he asked, reaching for the remote once again. I held it out of his reach again and something flickered in his eyes. What was with him tonight?
"You are going to give me that remote right now, or I'm going to take it from you. And if I have to, you are not going to like it."
I raised an eyebrow. He spoke it so haughtily that it made all the hairs in my neck stand on end.
"Brute force? How butch," I jibed, shoving the remote safely away underneath the pillow I was leaning against. "Pick on someone your own size."
He was fast; very fast. I let a very embarrassed yelp out when he grabbed my ankles and pulled sharply, effectively sliding me onto my back before I even knew what was happening. He leaned over me, pinning my arms above my head with only one hand on my wrists, and smiled.
"You were saying?" he said, keeping my hands there while I tried to break free.
"I said..." I strained to release myself; damn he was strong, and with only one hand no less. "Pick on someone your own size!"
He grinned above me, pretending that it was effortless, but I'm not that weak.
"Give me the remote."
I strained in earnest now, and he had to work this time to hold me in place, resorting to the use of his weight to win. Okay, if he could play like that, so could I.
"Nope." I brought up my knee and grinned. "Lemme go, or walk funny for a week."
"You wouldn't dare," he smiled, sure of himself.
It faded when I did dare, but it didn't contact where it was supposed to. Instead, I gave him a not-so-soft push on his butt, shoving him off balance, and he fell forward, smothering me under his much bigger form.
"Oompf," I managed to bring out.
He pushed himself up on his hands and looked down, his eyes worried.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," I groaned, putting my hands on his chest. "Get up man, you weigh like an elephant."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," he smiled, somewhat relieved.
Our eyes met and for a moment, everything went quiet. I held his gaze, and grinned slowly, not entirely sure what was going on. It was a little weird, and I felt giddy when he spoke.
"Are you going to give me that remote now or not?"
I shook my head, still staring into his eyes. It seemed like they were getting closer.
"No, not before you tell me what's going on."
He brought his face closer to mine, slowly, and I pushed my head deeper into the cushions of the sofa.
"What are you doing?"
He blinked, seemingly shaking out of whatever it was when I whispered that last.
"Fine," he said, looking away. He blew out some air, shakily. "Have it your way; I'll go watch in the study."
He stepped off of me and turned, leaving the room. I frowned and sitting up, watched him leave over the back of the sofa. What'd I do!?
CHAPTER 16
Yo, diary,
Sorry, but I feel the need to change the greeting. The chick factor was way too high when I use ‘dear'.
Michael's being weird, the last few days. I dunno... ever since that evening on the sofa, three days ago, I feel like he's been watching me. A few times I've looked his direction, and he either quickly looks away, or just grins. It's like he's on some sort of XTC pills, I think they're called Tony Blairs - they make you grin like a Cheshire cat.
And last night? He came up early, again, and watched TV with Olivia and me. It almost felt like a Friday night with the ‘rents. Snacks on the table, drinks; the only difference was that my step-dad never had an arm around me, or pressed his nose in the crook of my neck occasionally, like Michael did. Somehow I don't think I'd accept it from my step-dad either, lol!
Olivia seemed surprised that he'd come up, too, and even more surprised when he changed into casual clothes, although she only smiled when he asked her if something was wrong, and shook her head.
He drank a few beers and I tried one of those Guinness things he was having. Eww, those are gross. I asked for a Heineken, letting him finish the rest of that awful stuff, and I must say that I had fun. After we had watched the ‘Bernie Mac Show' and ‘That 70's Show,' a discussion started between Olivia and Michael about the 70's, an era I have no knowledge of. He did remember some of the stunts he'd done, even though he'd only been six or seven at the time. As Olivia explained it, he'd been a downright brat. Some of her memories had me laughing my ass off, while Michael snorted uncomfortably. That was great, by the way, seeing him uncomfortable for a change.
It was probably the beer that got to me - I had two - because I remember dozing off, but I don't remember going to bed, where I woke up this morning. When I asked him about it an hour ago, he told me he had brought me to bed because I'd fallen asleep.
"Thanks for that, by the way," he said, but he grinned so I guess he didn't mean it seriously, "I didn't know I was such boring company."
He isn't. I just don't get along with alcoholic beverages very well...
**********
I don't think I've ever had so much fun as I had the next morning; I introduced a sixty-six year old lady to the world of X-box auto racing. Well, introduced...
It was 11:30 in the morning when Olivia joined me on the sofa, having brought a magazine along to flick through. As for me, I was on a coffee binge, and maybe a bit high strung, playing the game since I'd gotten out of bed, not even bothering to change; I like to take my time, okay?
Anyway, I won a few times, whooping out loud, which elicited a few annoyed glances from her, and lost too many times, eliciting admonishments from her. Alright, so you don't say "crap, shitfaced motherf..." in front of an older lady; my mistake.
At long last, though, she almost threw her magazine on the table when she'd had enough of my cussing.
"Hand it over, young one."
"Huh?"
What, was she going to take my privileges away or something? I protectively clutched the controller.
"I'll show you how to drive."
"Yeah, sure," I snickered, "this coming from someone who's native country teaches them to drive on the wrong side of the road?"
"There is no wrong or right in driving," she retorted, "only skill and insight."
"You think you can beat me?"
"No. I know I can. You take the curves too tight and you change gears too quickly."
Ooookay...
I set up the other controller, and gave it to her. The next five minutes she achieved a new level of respect from me; the woman was lethal in the driving department. She even exclaimed an excited ‘gotcha!' when she passed the finish line, well ahead of her computer opponent.
"Ohohoooh... you're definitely out-racing me now," I said quasi-grumpy, setting up a new game. "There's no way an old chick is beating me at this."
The minute I said it I blushed and uttered an apology. Less coffee, JJ, way less.
"There's no way a child outraces this old chick," she said, mimicking my accent. "What is it you kids say these days: bring it on?"
I narrowed my eyes at her. Hah!
An hour later she'd beaten me six times in a row. I mean, what the fuck!
We were racing the final lap of a seventh game when Michael arrived, quietly placing his hands on the back of the sofa behind us so as to not disturb us. Then he started to laugh, softly at first but then louder, when he realized I was losing the race - AGAIN!
"Mother, did you tell him you spend half of your time, when you're here, in the racing booth of the Children's Arcade downstairs, when no one is looking?"
Ooh, that vile, conniving...I threw the controller on the floor, semi-disgusted, and sent her an insulted look when she grinned, making her look ten years younger.
"No, of course not. And thank you, Michael; you've revealed my secret."
"Oops," he replied, leaning down on his elbows. He turned his eyes on me and winked. "How many times did she beat you?
"Four."
"SEVEN!" Olivia exclaimed, slapping my hand.
"Ouch," Michael said, wincing in sympathy. "Couldn't you let him win even once?"
"Absolutely not. It's a matter of pride. No one calls me an old chick. You need to discipline that boyfriend of yours."
At that he raised an eyebrow at me, and I bit my lower lip guiltily.
"Heat of the moment kinda thing," I said, with a weak grin.
"Hmmm... " He looked at his mother and winked. "I'll discipline him tonight."
Oh sure...
"For now, though; why aren't you two ready? And haven't you showered yet?"
I glanced at the clock as he frowned at my attire, a pair of thin workout pants and an oversized t-shirt.
Oops again.
"Forgot the time. Gimme ten minutes."
I started to get up, but Michael shook his head.
"Forget it; I'll have something brought up instead. But at least take a shower; the way you look, a dog would bark himself to death at you."
"Wow, thanks. That's a compliment if I've ever heard one," I replied wryly, "and you can forget about that discipline tonight."
Olivia started to snicker softly when Michael's hand contacted with the back of my head, and not all that softly.
"Don't be so cheeky. And I'll hold you to those ten minutes."
CHAPTER 17
It was 10pm when Michael came upstairs that night. Olivia was in her room, arranging a short trip to visit a friend of hers in Florida; she'd been on the phone for almost two hours now.
Michael said hello, to which I replied the same, absentmindedly, watching a show on TV. He disappeared for several minutes and when he came back, he had changed into casual clothes and he came over, sighing deeply as he sat down beside me.
"Busy day, huh?" I asked, glancing sideways.
"You have no idea. If you ever think about becoming an orthodontist, please reconsider; half the hotel is riddled with these guys for some convention, harassing everybody. 'May we see your overbite?'. Bloody idiots."
I began to laugh softly when he mimicked the voice of one of the orthodontists.
"It's not funny. We had to either send them away to another hotel, or comp the other guests, to prevent them from leaving."
He continued nagging about the orthodontists for a while and I automatically tuned him out, something I'd been doing for years when my mom was in yappin' mode.
That's why I was almost startled to death when he brought his mouth close to my ear and spoke.
"I said; would you like a drink as well!"
"Jesus Christ, dude..." I hissed, hitting him none too gently. "You gave me a heart attack!"
"Good. Serves you right for not listening."
"Well, I was kinda watching this show here."
He grasped the remote and switched it off.
"And now you're not. How's it feel, hmm?"
He seemed to enjoy repeating my stunt on him from last night, and I reached over to hit him again.
It wasn't on purpose, but the scene from last night almost played out exactly the same, only this time I dove onto him, figuring he'd try something like that again. As soon as I landed half way over him, and actually did get a hold of the remote, he grunted softly, not in the least because my elbow kinda landed where a guy generally doesn't want it to land.
"Why you little..."
His long arms wrapped around me and he bent forward, dumping me onto the floor in one controlled motion, and, at the same time, he came off the sofa, and straddled me once again.
"Get off of me, you overgrown long streak of p..."
A hand closed over my mouth and he softly chuckled, shaking his head.
"You really need to watch that mouth of yours; the oral dirt flying from it at times, tsk tsk."
"Mm, mmmm mmm," I answered, under his hand, trying to pull it off.
He bent over, laughing.
"What was that?"
I repeated it.
"That's not very nice, telling me to fuck off. If I take my hand away, will you behave yourself?"
Hmprf. Alright. I nodded.
He slowly removed his hand, setting it beside my face. He hovered above me and it was like last night all over again. Sound; gone. This time though, he definitely did come closer, bringing his mouth to hover over mine.
"Fuck it," he whispered and covered my mouth with his.
This kiss was definitely different than any of the others we'd shared. He changed the whole dynamic when his tongue, endlessly long, wet, and warm, wiggled its way between my lips, past my teeth, searching for mine, and found it completely inactive because I didn't expect it.
He softly touched it, tasting, challenging, and my stomach made funny moves when he slipped in deeper, slowly beginning an exploration. I felt overwhelmed, queasy, and excited, and so totally taken by surprise that I didn't do anything and just went with it at first. Then, from there, it was like something else took over.
I buried my fingers in his hair when he deepened the kiss, something I hadn't thought possible, and I let my other hand slide up to his thigh, while beginning to kiss him back; he "mmm-ed' softly when I started to suck on his tongue, rubbing mine against it, and kissing him back.
He tasted very nice, and I opened wider, allowing him full access. I started rubbing his upper thigh, at which point he ended the kiss slowly but surely and sat up, staring down at me.
His lips glistened and were slightly swollen, and he licked the bottom one quickly, something that looked pretty damn hot to me. I wished he would kiss me again. I knew I could do way better than that!
"I work some have to do," he said, his voice sounding a little husky.
"What!?"
"Work," he said, jabbing his thumb to the study.
I nodded and waited until he got off of me had left.
What the hell had that been?
CHAPTER 18
Dear diary,
I'm getting somewhat confused here, a lot confused, actually. Something happened tonight, and I just don't understand it.
Growing up with strict rules, even puritan at times, has made me who I am today. My parents are very religious, but I've always thought they took it a bit too far at times. Now I‘m sure they have, because if they had tried to live a bit more in this world, instead of living their lives according to a book that was written in a time when humanity believed the world was flat, they could have taught me a little bit more about human interaction, not to mention the physical stuff.
I've been kissing a few guys (and the occasional girl) over the past few years, French kissing included, but this kiss had felt so entirely different that I'm getting a bit lost here. The kind of kisses I've experienced so far were just... horny; purely an aspect of the greater goal, which was fooling around and hopefully even get a blowjob, or give one.
What happened not even an hour ago was not at all like that.
This wasn't a horny kiss. There was no drive in me to go down on him at all. I just wanted to feel him against me, to be close, enjoy the weird feeling in my stomach, and just suck on that damned tongue of his - he tastes really good, and he's one hell of a kisser. I'd have been perfectly content with that.
Why?
First of all: I don't even like Michael in that way. Do I? Sure, he's sexy and good looking, at least I think so, but he's moody, bossy and way out of my league. He probably doesn't like me, either. Why would he, a man like him? He could get anyone he wanted. So why did he kiss me like that? Why did he change the whole arrangement here? And why did I want him to do it again, thinking I could do better? What the...
Why, why, why... See my confusion? It doesn't add up. If you don't like someone, you don't go around kissing them, not like that. You don't welcome it in the way that I did, not only allowing it but happily participating and even worse; wanting it to continue. Wait a minute...
Hmm, I just thought of something: am I reading too much into this and maybe he was just playing with me...
**********
The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that that was what Michael had been doing: playing a game.
Of course it had been! And I was the one who had started it, damn it. I'd grabbed the remote. I challenged him. Of course he played along. He probably thought it wasn't anything more than a little roughhousing, and okay, he got carried away a little by the moment, and got away with it.
I groaned audibly, letting my head sag on top of the diary, which lay spread on the bed.
Stupid! He was probably in the study right now, laughing his ass off; that he'd gotten that far without me even doing as little as try to fend him off, instead even kissing him back and rubbing his thigh! Oh man... I couldn't believe I had done that!
This brought on a horrifying thought: what if he thought I was easy? Would he think that? Maybe try a few more times, see if I'd let him go further? Hey, the thought wasn't that hard to follow from there; after only knowing him for what, a week, I'd already let this happen. What's to say I wouldn't let it go further? That I wouldn't mind dropping my pants and let him have his way with me?
I groaned again, not in the least because a picture flashed in my mind, a picture of him and me in such a compromising situation, even Bill Clinton would blush all the way to his hair roots. Even my body reacted to that single graphic thought.
This was not good, not good at all. I'd have to be very careful from this moment on, and not lead Michael on in any way; not taunt him, especially that, so that he wouldn't have a reason to use the situation to his advantage.
All right. Here's what I could do: go to bed at my usual time, preferably before, so he wouldn't have a reason to boss me around, subsequently making me argumentative. Check. Avoid situations like tonight. Check. Wear a chastity belt. Check. Yeah, right.
I sighed and rolled onto my back. None of that was going to work. The only thing that would work was for me to not let myself get carried away, like tonight, and for God sakes; keep a clear head.
**********
I pretended to be asleep later that night, when Michael turned in. I listened as he went from the bedroom door, which he softly closed, to the closet and from there to the bathroom. He spent a few minutes in there, and then came back, to sit down on his side of the bed, his broad back turned to me. He took off his watch and reached for the remote, but, instead of switching on the TV, he put it back on the nightstand. When he prepared to get under the covers, I closed my eyes quickly.
I didn't know what he was doing the next few seconds, but there was no sound, no movement; then he slipped his legs down, accidentally touching mine, and pulled them away when he stretched out beside me.
"You little shit; couldn't leave me any room, did you?" he whispered.
That's when I realized that up until then, I'd been so wrapped up in faking it I hadn't thought about the fact that I was not exactly on my side of the bed - I was lying in the middle.
Real smart, JJ, I thought, now what?
That became clear pretty quick.
He shoved his arm under my pillow, as he'd done every night so far and lay down. As soon as he did that, something tickled the tip of my nose and then an arm landed on my midsection, on top of the covers and my own arm underneath.
His scent filled my nostrils as he slowly settled into a position comfortable to him and I found it increasingly uncomfortable for me; how the hell was I supposed to sleep with soft chest hair tickling my nose?
I wouldn't, that's how. So I mumbled a little, as if I was dreaming, and started to turn onto my back. I didn't get very far; the arm on my side held me back and a knee of his slipped between my raised leg as I tried to turn. My nose now touched his chest and the tickling on my nose became a maddening experience; it was either scratch or sneeze.
Bringing my arm up was not an option, so I did the only thing I could do, if I didn't want to suddenly wake up without a reason; I rubbed it against his chest, adding a sleepy mumble.
"Shit."
Shit?
He moved suddenly, withdrawing his knee fast. Fast enough to justify me waking up and I pretended to start awake.
"Mmm?" I rose up on my right arm.
"Nothing, go back to sleep," he spoke, sounding chagrined. What his problem was, I don't know, but he rolled onto his back, with one leg over the side of the bed, and sat up as soon as I rose.
"Give me a bit more space, will you? I'm almost falling out."
I scooted back to my own side, shivering a little because it was colder there, and laid back down.
"Sorry. G'nite."
He took a minute or two; then he also lay down again. He didn't turn on his left side. Instead, he turned onto his right and flicked off the light.
"Goodnight," he replied, softly.
