Love Will

by Lori L. Otto

  “Only in your case, your creator has put these two auditory organs on the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. So while, yes, people may see the ears from time to time, they do tend to get lost in the rest of your appeal.”

  “Will,” she whispers in a sigh.

  “And whose soulful eyes are those?” I ask.

  “Momma’s. They’re her lips, too.”

  “I can’t talk about your lips without my brain immediately going to indecent places that would embarrass your momma,” I tell her just before kissing her. “Since I met you, about seventy-seven percent of my time is now spent thinking of things I want those lips to do to this body.”

  She giggles. “What about the other twenty-three percent?”

  “I think about things I want this body to do to your…” I swallow. “Lips.”

  She quirks her brow at me. I nod my head. “Momma would be very embarrassed right now.”

  “Was she a little old fashioned?”

  “Hell, no!” she says. “She’d be embarrassed that you were here telling me about things you want to do and not just doing them.”

  My jaw drops as I look at her, surprised. “Here I’m trying to be romantic on our last night together,” I say. “And I’m not sure I’ve ever really done romantic before. Obviously, I’m doing it wrong.”

  “Oh, no you’re not,” Shea assures me. “You’re doing it too well. If your goal is to have some sweet pillow talk, you’re way too good at romance, because I’m already beyond the talk again.”

  “Wow. Yeah, I’ve never in my life done pillow talk. I’ve really never done this… this… sex where you lie in blankets with someone afterwards and hold them in your arms. I rarely even have sex with people lying down.”

  “Wait a minute. What?”

  “No… this is way too intimate.”

  “What do you do?” she asks me.

  “Oral sex is very popular in my routine… hence the reason I stopped you from going there tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but… that’s what I do with all the girls.”

  I watch her for her reaction, and can see the disappointment in her expression. I should see it. I should be confronted with it, because I shouldn’t get away with that lifestyle and suffer no consequences.

  “So I have a great chair in my bedroom that’s perfect for giving and receiving…”

  “If we end up becoming a thing, I’d like to burn that chair,” she says. “And you better point out which one it is before I so much as shed a hair on it.”

  “Honestly, I would never want you near that chair. That would be completely… disrespectful to you. So you have my word.” I pick up a strand of her long, soft hair and wrap it around my finger.

  “Thank you.”

  I sigh before continuing my confession to her. “I also have a lot of wall sex.”

  “Wall sex?” she asks.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve never…” She blinks a few times, then shakes her head. “I’ve never had wall sex.” I laugh lightly. “I’m not kidding. I want to try wall sex.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not up for wall sex at the moment,” I tell her, still exhausted from our first round. “But sometime… trust me, there will come a time when it’s urgent enough that wall sex is required.”

  She starts to pout with her lips. Those lips. I surround her with my arms and kiss them fully, letting her take my breath away and getting worked up again in the process. I still don’t really have the energy to act on it, but I think I could kiss her all night.

  When we stop to catch our breaths, I do some deep breathing to try to calm myself down. “So what are your plans for… after?” I ask.

  “Well, I’m going to have a closing party, sale and auction to get rid of all the assets,” she explains. “A lot of people want the vintage furniture, and the appliances are just a couple years old. And all the stuff in the shop… I’d like to make some of the money back from that.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I have a lot in savings. My parents planned ahead, and taught me and Sarah well.”

  “Well, you’re way ahead of me there. I’ll probably be paying off credit card debt until I’m one-hundred-and-seventeen.”

  “Yikes.”

  “Yeah. The music equipment, going out with friends all through college… it added up really quickly. In fact, being on tour is probably the first time in my life I haven’t been contributing to the problem, and that’s just because the band’s been picking up the tab on most things these days. Fiscally responsible, I am not.”

  “Finally, a flaw,” she says.

  “Whatever! You’ve seen quite a few…” I remind her.

  “I can hope that most are in the past, though,” she says. “This one affects your future.”

  “I guess it does.” She’s quiet and starts to pick at the frayed edge of one of her blankets. “Is this a deal-breaker flaw?”

  She smiles up at me. “No,” she whispers.

  “So after you close up shop…” I say, urging her to continue.

  “I have some friends nearby with an extra room. They’re going to let me stay with them until I figure some things out. I’ll start to look for restaurants who need a sous chef. Maybe smaller ones in need of an executive chef. My mom was classically trained. She taught me everything she knew.”

  “You wouldn’t want to open your own place?”

  “Someday. Now’s not the right time.”

  “So, uh… here in Minneapolis?”

  “That’s the million-dollar question,” she responds.

  “So you’re open to other cities?” She nods her head. “What about New York City? I mean, aside from the fact that it’s the greatest city in the world and I come from there… I’m pretty sure it’s the food capital of the country.”

  “Are you sure of that?” she asks me, knowing I’m no expert in this topic.

  “Well, we have everything there.”

  “I’ve been there,” she says. “I know there’s a lot of opportunity. There’s also a lot more competition. And it’s so expensive.”

  “That’s the truth.”

  “You said you’re going back to New York after the tour?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “And what will you do?”

  “Go back to work and school. When I left, we were designing a very specialized satellite to research gamma-ray bursts. We’re trying to prove the existence of a high concentration of GRBs–sorry, gamma-ray bursts–that could turn out to be the largest structure known in the observable universe.

  “It would be incredibly significant, and I want to be a part of it… but I really need my PhD to continue on the team indefinitely. It shouldn’t take me long to get it.

  “The band doesn’t know, but I’ve kept in touch with my former boss. They’re holding my spot for me. And my coworkers still send me emails with their hypotheses and questions. We bounce ideas off each other. That’s probably why I can’t truly get my mind to stop grinding on math problems.

  “Yeah, I’d like my brain to settle down… but on the other hand, it’s what I love.”

  “I can tell,” she says. “Your eyes just lit up, talking about it.”

  Chapter 11

  I’m not moving as quickly as I should be in the morning, but the thought of leaving Shea in an hour is not a pleasant one. I’m anxious to get back on the road, and the time away from the guys is just what I needed, but I can’t deny that there’s a strong connection between me and the woman on the other side of the bathroom door.

  After towel-drying my hair and slipping on my boxers, I walk out, clean from my shower. Shea had already been awake for an hour, getting food prepped in the kitchen with one of her assistants, but she had returned to the apartment, and was waiting to spend a little more time with me before I had to go.

  I toss the towel back to her bathroom floor on my way toward her. She doesn’t look away from whatever’s on her mid-size TV.

  “What are you watching?”
r />   “An old movie.”

  “What is it?”

  “Atonement.”

  I sit on the arm of her couch and stare at the vaguely familiar actor and actress. “What’s it about?”

  “This author who, when she was a jealous little girl, told a lie that kept her sister and her sister’s true love apart for… I don’t want to ruin it for you.”

  “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

  “No, it’s really good. You should watch it sometime.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say, standing up and moving closer to the scene as the two characters get passionate in a library. “What’s happening now?”

  “Shhh!”

  I’m quiet, watching as they obviously begin to have sex with one another, but proceed to get caught by the little girl, just as it was getting steamy. It clicks, and I turn around. “Wait… Shea, is this what you think wall sex is like?”

  “Yeah…”

  “Oh, no…” I say, walking toward her. “No, it’s not. No, it’s not like that at all.” I point back at the television, even though the movie has progressed to something more dramatic and far less sexual. “That was romantic and beautiful. Wall sex is gritty and passionate–”

  “That was passionate.”

  “You’re right, it was, but–I should find some porn for you to watch.”

  “Will!”

  “Reality never hurt anyone, Shea,” I say, half-joking with her.

  “Can we try it like that?”

  “Like that?” She nods. “I mean… do you even have a ladder?”

  “Do you use a ladder?”

  “No, but… I don’t understand the ‘like that’ part of your sentence.”

  “The romantic and beautiful part.”

  “Okay, yeah,” I start, sarcastic. “You want to have romantic and beautiful wall sex?”

  She nods once more. “I have a stool, if that will help,” she offers.

  “We don’t need a stool.” I shake my head and laugh at her. “Your knees will be too weak to hold you up. That’s my job.”

  “That’s awfully confident of you.”

  I put my arms on the back of the couch on either side of her head and move in to kiss her slowly. “Get on your feet.” She puts her hands on my biceps and pulls herself up. “Is there a preferred wall?”

  “I think they’re all equally sturdy.” I glance around and decide on the one that her desk is against.

  “Go out your front door.”

  “What?” she asks.

  “You’re right,” I say, finding my jeans and pulling them on.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Wall sex isn’t just about the sex… it’s the urgency… the need… the immediacy.” I put on the shirt that I’d packed to wear today and fasten most of the buttons.

  “I’m not understanding why you’re getting dressed,” she says.

  “Because I want to do this right. You look amazing, by the way.” I eye her flowing skirt and wonder if she’d dressed with this in mind. “Perfect. Kiss me.” She grips my shirt by the lapels and holds me close to her, making it difficult for me to breathe. By the time we part, I’ve got an immediate and urgent problem, but I make my way out her front door anyway.

  One of her employees looks at me curiously.

  “Awww, fuck,” I murmur, then knock on the door.

  “What are you doing?” she laughs, looking at me, utterly confused.

  I push past her and turn around, backing her against the door to shut it with a bang. Tugging on a strand of her hair, we’re kissing again. This time, they’re deep kisses, our tongues fully entwined mixed with desperate gasps of air. That’s the need I was telling her about. I pull the soft sweater she’s wearing over her head and practically grope her over her bra.

  Romantic and beautiful, she’d said. I take a deep breath and move both of my hands to her waist, trying to slow down.

  “Ahem,” I say to get her attention, because I’m not sure she even remembers her request at this point. She seems pretty on board with the direction this was headed, but I still want to try to live up to her expectation. “Tell me, who’s this motherfucker I have to thank for this, by the way?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This actor…”

  I can see the blood pool in her cheeks. She totally has a crush on him. “James McAvoy.”

  “James… Fucking… McAvoy… Thank you for the challenge of romantic and beautiful wall sex. I accept.” She bites her lip. “You thinking about him now?”

  “No!” she says, laughing.

  “You sure?”

  “You’re it,” she says. I place my hands on her cheeks and kiss her again, pushing my body flush against hers and grinding against her slowly. She whimpers a little. I do it one more time, bending lower at the knees, and this time, when I rise to my full height, I pick her up and wrap her legs around me.

  Kissing the whole way, I walk across her apartment to the wall I’d scouted out and set her back down on the floor. I put my hand up her skirt and feel the lightweight, satin panties she’s wearing. The urge to rip them off is almost too much for me. I grip them tightly in my hand, and Shea breathes heavily in my ear as I kiss her neck.

  This beautiful and romantic shit is making me think too much, when I shouldn’t be thinking at all. That’s what’s really beautiful about wall sex. You just don’t fucking think about it. You just act. That’s becoming a problem here.

  I release the panties but leave my hand under her skirt, touching her gently between her legs and trying to be romantic again. She starts pulling my hair.

  Yes. Do that, Shea.

  She brings one of her legs up around my waist, as if she’s trying to mount me.

  And that. That’s not romantic, but it’s not my fault. The smile I try to hold in escapes to my face, because my kind of wall sex is starting to win. Take that, McAvoy.

  I hold her leg in place for her with one hand and take her other hand in mine, pinning it against the wall above her hand. I kiss her hard and press against her even harder, wanting her to feel how turned on I am.

  With her other free hand, she finally makes the move. It’s the one that gives me permission to give up on my attempts to live up to the stupid movie’s false ideas. She’s fighting with the button and zipper on my jeans until she frees her other hand to help.

  See, beautiful and romantic is really a contradiction of what typical wall sex is. It’s ugly and uncensored. “I can’t do this,” I tell her, giving up. “We’re doing this my way, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she says hurriedly, pulling down my jeans. I reach onto the desk where I’d placed a condom and rip open the packaging. She’s got my boxers off by the time I’m ready, and takes the prophylactic from me. As she puts it on, I make quick work of getting her panties out of the way. I help her step out of them and then bend to get beneath her, standing to push into her slowly, and then picking her up along the way. My hands under her ass, she clings to me tightly with all four of her limbs and sucks on my ear. Hearing her quickened breathing so close, so loud, is such a fucking turn on.

  Even though I’ve done this hundreds of times, and expected this to feel somewhat methodical and flat, it’s nothing like that with Shea. I’m normally in it for the quick release, and know how to make it happen, but with her, I listen for the subtle changes in her breaths, her sighs, the different ways she says my name, and I adjust my actions accordingly to try to make this about her, too. After all, she asked for this. I’d hate for it to disappoint her.

  While most of the women I’ve been with go through the motions and act like it’s good for them, statistically speaking, it just can’t be for all of them in the brief amount of time it takes me to finish. And I haven’t always cared to ensure their satisfaction.

  So as urgent as it was to get undressed, to connect with her, I’ve slowed down, and somehow, without me even realizing it, this turned kind of romantic. I stop kissing her neck and pull my head back so I can look directly i
nto her eyes. She stares back into mine, and this strange warmth clutches me from the inside and takes hold, tightening in my chest but settling somewhere in my stomach. It’s the most comforting feeling I’ve ever experienced, and it stays with me as I make love to her–beautifully, romantically–here against the wall of her apartment.

  With our eyes locked, it’s as if we can read one another’s building climax, and I feel an explosion within me as her whole body clenches around mine. We cry out each other’s names as if it’s a chorus in a duet. It’s the prettiest music I’ve ever made.

  I carry her back over to the couch, and we lay together until I only have five minutes to get to the bus. It’s not even enough time to say goodbye, but that’s kind of by design. I don’t want to say goodbye to her.

  I hurry and put on my clothes, hoping I can take a quick shower as soon as we get on the road. I’m still sweating and I’m sure I smell like sex. It’s a smell I’m going to miss for awhile, I guess.

  “You can go out the back,” she says. “The restaurant’s open.”

  “Okay. I need your number.” I hand her my phone.

  “Just remember, I don’t make a practice out of dating musicians, Will,” she says, teasing me as she types in her digits.

  “Yeah, and I don’t make a practice out of sleeping with cute diner owners, either, Shea.” When she hands me my phone, I quickly dial her number and hear the phone ring on her desk. “That’s me.”

  “I’m not really a diner owner anymore…” She walks me through her apartment and to the back door of the building.

  “And I’m not a musician.” I lean down to kiss her. “I’ll see you soon, Shea.” I nod my head, trying to assure her that I will.

  “Shea!” a man’s voice calls out to her, startling us both. “What was all that banging?”

  I look down at her. “He owns the vitamin shop next door,” she whispers to me, looking down at the ground. She points to the building to the left of hers–the one that shares a wall with the one we just had beautiful, romantic sex against.