Morgan snickers. “No, this isn’t the prom.”
I blush, feeling humiliated. “Okay, so no flowers then.”
“Well you could bring her flowers when you come to her place…you know, to congratulate her for her achievement. That would be sweet.”
“Do you think roses?”
“Actually Brooke loves peonies. She orders herself an arrangement once a month because they’re her favorite. I’ll call her favorite florist, Mark’s Garden on Ventura Blvd., and have them put together an arrangement. You should pick them up at four-thirty Sunday. I’ll email you their address as well. You can pay for them there.”
“Wow, thanks Morgan. You’re amazing.”
She glows with the compliment. Maybe she really isn’t that bad.
“You’re welcome. Take good care of Brooke. Okay, Nathan? This is a big night for her.”
“I’ll do my best.” I assure her.
• • •
When I get to her house that evening the sushi’s just been delivered, and I bristle at the young delivery guy checking out my girl in her yoga pants.
I’m wearing my new glasses that make me look “really hot” and to seal the deal I’m wearing a size large narrow black Gap T-shirt that I previously would have never considered wearing. Normally I wear extra large because I like my clothes loose and comfortable. But the contacts and new glasses have got me feeling bold, like it’s time to break new ground.
“Hey, Brooke,” I say stepping inside.
“Oh my,” she says when she sees me and gives me a hug.
She steps back and nods. “I would strongly suggest you wearing that shirt and those glasses more often. They really show off how handsome you are.”
I love how she says that so matter-of-fact.
“And look at you.” I grin, gesturing to her outfit.
“Yes, my yoga pants have made another appearance just for you.”
I sigh. “It’s the simple things that make me happy.”
She pulls me towards the kitchen. “Come on, I bought Sapporo beer to go with the sushi.
After dinner we clean up and start to head into the studio.
“Hey, before we start can I show you the two dresses I’m trying to decide on for the Emmys?”
“Sure,” I agree. I may not know anything about women’s clothes but I’d look at Brooke in anything. Who’d have thought I’d ever be judging fashion?
She disappears into her room and comes back out a few minutes later in a long black fitted gown of some velvety looking material. It’s elegant and makes her look older than she is.
“What do you think?” she asks, sounding uncertain.
“You look beautiful, Brooke. It’s really fancy.”
“Fancy?” she smiles at me, her fashion idiot friend. What was she expecting?
“You look great. But you’d look great in anything.”
She makes a face at me. “All right Mr. Picky, let me show you the other one now.”
She’s gone a longer time and she comes down the hall even more tentatively.
This dress is a deep red, almost wine colored and it makes her pale skin glow. The fabric sweeps over her curvy hips and thighs. I look at her long neck and then down to where her breasts nestle in the top folds of the dress.
“Wow,” I say quietly. I can’t stop looking at how pretty she looks, soft but sexy, shy but provocative. “Wow.”
“Right?” she questions. “I like this one too. Here can you help me with this zipper?”
She steps close, turning around and I freeze as my gaze trails over her.
Her back is exposed all the way down to the top of her bottom, the softest white skin I’ve ever seen. My mouth actually waters as I fight the urge to run my tongue all the way up the length of her. I want to softly kiss her across her shoulders and then wind my hands around her until they are cupping her breasts.
“Zipper?” she asks looking over her shoulder to see what’s holding me up.
With great focus I take the tiny zipper pull between my fingers and drag it up as slow as possible without giving myself away. I desperately want to leave her back naked, smooth as a field of freshly fallen snow.
When I finally zip the dress closed she turns around and the fabric swirls, falling against her in an embrace. Her cleavage is revealed…well not just revealed but celebrated, her breasts round and full. My lips ache to skim over them.
The fabric cinches at her curvy waist and then molds to her shapely bottom. This dress is everything a dress should be, because all I want to do is take it off and make love to her.
She takes several steps back while smoothing the fabric over her hips. Turning sideways she pulls the fabric up where it cups her breasts, then runs her hands back down to her hips. I’m fully hard now watching her touch herself. I’m trying to contain my overwhelming desire.
When she turns around and smoothes the fabric over her bottom, I’m so aroused I can’t focus. I take several steps back until I can sink onto the couch. I pull a throw pillow over the situation in my pants, hoping she doesn’t notice.
“So? What do you think, this or the black one?”
“Are you kidding?” I ask stunned. “This dress was made for you. You look amazing.”
“Really?” she asks like she’s still not sure. “You’re not just saying that?”
“It’s perfect, seriously. It really shows off your great body, and the color’s beautiful on you.” I sigh and smile.
“This is my favorite too. I feel really good in it. But Arnauld said it was unflattering.”
I can feel how tender she is all around her edges, and a powerful desire to protect her roars through me.
“What? He’s nuts.” I say, trying not to just go off on him and get her even more upset. But I’m so angry. It’s like he tries to control her by messing with her head.
“I don’t know why I let him get to me, Nathan. I’m normally so confident, but he’s always pointing out what’s wrong with my body and I guess it’s worn me down.”
“You know, I’m sorry to be selfish, but I’m glad Arnauld’s going to Vegas for that fight. I may not know anything about fashion stuff but I’m a man and I know what I like. If Arnauld can’t see how beautiful and desirable you are in this dress, then he has his head up his ass. I can’t wait to walk in front of all those people with you on my arm.”
“Really?” she asks studying me with her wide eyes.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m so proud to be going with you.” I take a deep breath and hold it, barely believing that speech came out of me. But that’s what Brooke does to me. She inspires me to be more than I think I can be.
She stands there silently and I wait, not sure what to do next. But a moment later I realize that there are tears trailing down her cheek.
Despite the awkwardness of the moment, I sense what she needs. So I get off the couch and step right up to her. Reaching over, I wipe her tears away with my fingers and pull her into my arms.
And although I have no words left that can adequately express her beauty and how she affects me, I hope the way I hold her says everything.
Animate Me / Chapter Twelve / A Very Small Banana
“There’s a very logical explanation for all of this.” ~Velma, Scooby-Dooxi
“Nathan,” she sighs.
I’m rubbing her back, and I feel her relax the more I touch her.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly. “You really do look beautiful you know.”
She looks up and smiles. “Thank you.” She closes her eyes and leans into my chest.
“Do you want to sit down?”
“Yeah, I do. Let me take the dress off first.”
She turns and I carefully unzip her, stealing one more glance of her flawless, alabaster skin.
“I’ll be right back,” she assures me.
I settle back down onto the couch. Only a minute later she returns, having changed back into her yoga pants. As she sits down next to me, I realize her expression has changed
. There is fierceness under the outer layer of sadness. She leans towards me and puts her hand on my shoulder.
“Promise me something, Nathan.”
“Okay?” I respond, wondering where this is going.
“When you’ve got your girl, promise me you’ll treat her right and support her in feeling good about herself.”
“Of course,” I say quietly. “Isn’t that what you do for someone you love?”
I feel her fingers tighten over my shoulders as if she’s bracing herself for something that’s building inside of her.
“Don’t tell her that her ass is getting big and that she has chunky thighs, even if you think it. Just don’t say it. Okay?”
Stupid ass, Arnold. “I would never do that, Brooke,” I assure her. If you were with me, I would worship every perfect part of you, every day.
She finally relaxes and sags against the cushions, as if the air has gone out of her.
I reach forward and grab my beer off the coffee table, then hand it to her. “Here, I think you could use a drink.”
She turns the bottle in her hands as she continues. “I’ve always believed that a woman should never let a man affect the way she feels about herself. So the irony of what his words do to me…”
“But it’s hard not to be damaged by the things the people you care about say and do.”
She nods slowly. I watch her take several long sips before she sets the beer back on the table.
“He wasn’t always like this, you know,” she says, a faraway look in her eyes. “He can be incredibly charming…he used to constantly tell me how beautiful and talented I was. In the beginning he swept me off my feet. No one had ever treated me the way he did, and he’s still very charming at times. In fairness, I’ve only told you about his dark side. He’s a complicated man.”
“Yeah, the things you’ve told me make it very hard for me to understand why you’re still with him,” I admit.
“The way things have shifted between us…well, it happened so gradually that it’s taken a while to realize the extent of it.”
I look at her, noting her sad expression. She must still care about him.
“How have things shifted?” I ask, almost afraid of the answer.
“He’s taught me so much about the business, and has given me opportunities no one else would’ve so soon in my career. But it’s almost like the more confident and successful I become, the more critical he is.”
“Do you know why he’s like that?”
“Maybe he feels threatened. Maybe he was more comfortable when I looked up to him and was less of an equal. But the biggest turning point was when he demanded that I move in with him, and for us to be exclusive with each other.”
I’m shocked and my stomach sinks, as I grip the edge of the couch. “He did? When was that?”
I don’t know whether to be sick about the fact that he wanted more with her, or happy that she apparently turned him down.
She nods slowly. “Late last year. I’d gone out with this guy he apparently had issues with, and in a drunken tirade he proclaimed that our open relationship was over and that it was time to move in with him. Among many other issues, I was so pissed that his change of heart was prompted by jealousy and not by any desire to really develop our relationship further. Even if I had wanted more of a commitment, I knew he didn’t really mean it. I didn’t trust his intentions and refusing him is what started all the passive aggressive behavior. I think it made him crazy that he couldn’t control me. So he’d do things like promote me, then criticize my work…tell me he loved my body one week, then buy me a gym membership the next.”
“That’s awful,” I say quietly.
“Honestly, it wasn’t until I met you, and the way you made me feel so special and appreciated, that I realized how much had changed.”
As glad as I am to know that I’ve helped her, I’m still really concerned about her situation.
“Can you tell me what he said to you specifically to make you so upset when you tried on the dress?” I ask carefully, each word measured.
She looks away and her expression gets angry again. “He’s pushing me to get lipo. He insists on paying for it so he doesn’t understand why I won’t do it.”
“Liposuction?” I ask alarmed. “But your body’s so beautiful, Brooke. Where would you possibly have lipo? Why?”
“My hips, thighs and ass,” she explains. “He wants me to look like one of those skinny models. He did it for his love handles that he couldn’t exercise off; so he thinks it’s no big deal.”
“What, no!” I respond alarmed. “Show me what he’s talking about.”
She gets off the couch and stands in front of me. But then she seems to have a second thought, and crawls onto my lap so that she’s straddling my knees, facing me. “Starting here,” she says quietly, as she takes my hands and runs them along the smooth black Lycra covering her inner thighs. She then drags my hands over her hips. “All along there.” Finally our hands settle on the round part of her bottom. “And a lot here.”
“No!” I moan loudly, without thinking. “You can’t let him take your curves, Brooke! Is he nuts? You’re perfect and sexy, and I’ll never forgive you if you agree to that.”
“This is who I am,” she says quietly as she strokes her hips. “I used to like my curves.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that my hands are still on her butt, so I squeeze it gently. “I love your curves. Why do you think I appreciate these yoga pants so much?”
She smiles sadly at me. “Don’t worry, I’ll never agree to it. But I can’t deny that it’s getting to me hearing him suggest it all the time. And that’s not all, you know.”
“What else?” I ask, not sure I can stand to hear more.
“He wants me to get my breasts augmented…you know, bigger.”
“Why? They’re perfect,” I huff.
“How would you know, you’ve never seen them,” she teases.
“No, but I’ve held them. Well, technically one, but that gave me a pretty good indication. It felt so perfect to me.” I grin.
“Well, to be honest, I’ve always loved my breasts. I think they’re really pretty. Lately though, he seems to get off on huge breasts, and has no qualms telling me that.”
“I bet your breasts are much higher ranked than pretty…more like stunningly beautiful or fucking unforgettable. And being a bit of a breast aficionado I think my opinion holds more weight, than Mojo Jojo’s.”
She grins and I’m encouraged that her mood seems to be brightening.
“So now you’re an aficionado?” She teases.
“Well if you count studying them very carefully and drawing breasts thousands of times.” I pause and move my hands to rest on her thighs. “You know you could show me if you want a second opinion on how spectacular they are.”
“You want to see my breasts?”
“Yes, of course I do.” My heart is pounding.
“Are you going to touch them too?”
I swallow hard. “If you’ll let me.” Oh, please let me, Brooke. Please
She leans back and eyes me playfully. “Is this educational?”
“If you want it to be.” I’m getting nervous that she’s changing her mind. I can’t get this close to the Promised Land, only to find out that it’s closed for business. I reach up and tug on the edge of her T-shirt. “Don’t make me beg,” I tease.
She smiles and grabs the hem and starts to slowly pull it upward. Her torso is just as glorious as her back, creamy dreamy smooth. My fingers itch to glide over every plain and valley of her body. But when the shirt finally peels away from her chest, my heart stops. Mojo is clearly on crack because these are the most exquisitely beautiful, lusciously plump, bewitchingly bodacious breasts I’ve ever seen.
“Oh, my.” I state weakly. The sight of her without her shirt completely overwhelms me, and I’m rapidly losing my super powers. I’m now a mere mortal in the presence of perfection.
“That’s it? After all th
at build up?…Just an ‘Oh, my’?”
Has she not noticed that my eyes are bugging out of my head and I’m swallowing every ten seconds to control my salivating?
“Can we take this off?” I whisper, weakly pointing to her bra.
She smiles. “You want to help?”
I nod and as she reaches around to unhook the back, I gently slide the straps off her shoulders. She waits patiently for me, and my trembling fingers slide under that part in the middle that brings the two worlds together. I pull until the pale blue symphony of lace and straps falls away from her.
I can sense that she’s fighting shyness, a temptation to fold into herself. But she stays strong and sits tall, with her shoulders pulled back.
“Oh, Jesus,” I moan. “Oh my God.” Evidently I’ve suddenly found religion. That’s how incredible her breasts are. I glance once more at the perfection before my eyes roll back in my head.
I hear her take a deep ragged breath.
I reopen my eyes just in time to watch her slide further down my lap. Instinctively I react by pushing my hips forward to seek friction for the battle my hard-on is fighting with my jeans.
And as if that wasn’t enough, she smiles and takes my hands, pressing them softly against her.
“Oh, sweet baby Jesus,” I gasp. I have never felt anything so wonderful as her naked breasts, full and warm in my hands.
“I didn’t know you were a religious man,” she says with a sly smile.
“I wasn’t. But I am now.” I sigh as I marvel at them again in my grasp. I could sit here all night and just hold and admire them.
She laughs softly. “Are you all right?” She notices the serious look that has just flashed across my face.
“Never, ever, ever, let anyone tamper with this perfection,” I insist.
Her smile is so happy, like I just brushed all the darkness and self-doubt right out of her mind.
“Promise me, please, Brooke,” I beg.
She smiles. “I promise.” She looks down at how I’m holding her, and then runs her hands along my forearms. “See, this is what I’m talking about,” she explains. “This is making me feel really good.”
Let’s look at that scoreboard, I think to myself. A touchdown for me, and Mojo has been sidelined. Looks like I’m winning and we haven’t even reached half-time.
Animate Me Page 14
