Hope Falls_Passing Through

by Frances Elliot

  Any second now, one of us will say something about the weather, he thought. “This is a very nice kitch—”

  He stopped mid-word, overcome by the growing absurdity of the situation. Neither of them spoke and Ryan listened to an evening breeze ruffling some kind of greenery outside the window and from a distance, the very faint cries of kids still whooping it up in the park.

  The entire town even smells great, he thought -- ever since he’d arrived he’d felt so relaxed and at ease. This instant, deep connection, strange as it was, still felt natural, organic even, as if all these events were inevitable. Ah-ha. “Alice.”

  She’d been carefully reading her beer bottle label as though deeply engrossed in “12 fluid ounces” or “bottled in St. Louis.” When she looked up, her expression was just a little too bright and perky.

  “Alice, come here,” he said, crooking a finger.

  Rather hesitantly, she came around the table and stood before him; he took her hand and pulled her into his lap. She sat up straight, folded her hands and looked at him expectantly, as if she were waiting for him to say ho-ho-ho and ask what she wanted for Christmas. With both hands at her waist, he settled her more comfortably and looked into her eyes, intending to speak.

  Instead, he simply watched until he saw some of the doubt in her eyes begin to fade. Putting his hand at the back of her head, he kissed her gently and felt her arms move to his shoulders. When he broke the kiss she nestled against him, her palm on his chest, and sighed.

  “You know what we’re doing wrong?” he asked. “We tried to re-wind too far. I was stupid to think we could start over -- why would we want to start over?” He paused. “I guess I said that because … well, because I was worried you’d think I was a crappy lover and I wanted you to know—“

  He felt her fingers against his lips, shushing him. “Do you really think you need to explain all that to me?” She kissed him again and went on. “Something strange is happening and we’re both trying to act like everything is normal. Like we know what we’re doing. Let’s just admit we’re both kind of freaked out and see what happens.”

  That sounded reasonable, he thought, especially in light of the fact that for the past three days his behavior had completely mystified him. “Okay,” he said. “We’ll just see what happens.”

  He began running his hand up and down her back, eyeing the smooth surface of the table and thinking about those tight pants. No, he told himself. Not again, get a grip. “Ah, well, what should we do now?”

  Her hand slid down his chest to rest on his upper thigh. “I don’t know, want to watch some TV?”

  It felt as if her fingers were searing his skin through his jeans. “Oh. Sure. Sounds great.”

  She laughed, stood and sat again, now straddling him. Looking directly into his eyes, her face very serious, she began to undo his shirt buttons. “Okay,” she said slowly, “shall we go see what’s on?” She slipped her hands under his shirt and bent her head to scatter soft kisses across his chest. He blew out a deep breath.

  Her fingers trailed lightly down over his abs and he felt a tug on his belt buckle. “What kind of shows do you like to watch?” she said, sliding down and off his lap.

  He saw her kneel, push his knees apart and move between them to reach for the button on his jeans. Oh god, he thought, this is what I like to watch, but this isn’t what I promised to … He heard and felt his zipper moving but her eyes were locked with his. “I like all the lawyer shows, most of them are pretty funny,” she said, again speaking very slowly.

  He had to clear his throat before he could speak. “Really?”

  Her fingers curled into his waistband, tugged, and he automatically lifted his butt. Backing slightly away, she eased the pants and shorts off, saying, “Oh, yes. The procedure mistakes are great but …”

  With her hands on his legs, she knee-walked back in, running her hands firmly up his thighs, fingers splayed. Her eyes were still on his and aside from a dangerous glimmer there, she gave no sign she knew she was driving him crazy. She dropped her head and between scattered kisses and flicks of her tongue, said “but it’s the way the female lawyers dress that…”

  The rest of the sentence was abandoned as her mouth enveloped him and she finally closed her eyes. He left his open, thrilled by the look of her. As her head moved slowly, almost lazily up and down, her hands wandered over his thighs, occasionally lightly raking the skin with her nails.

  He wanted to lean back in the chair, lace his fingers behind his head, surrender, but a very small, still functioning portion of his brain wouldn’t allow that. He put his hands gently on her head, saying, “Alice.”

  She paused and looked up to him, the tip of his cock on her lips and he saw that she knew exactly how that sight inflamed him. One of her hands curved around to hold him at the base and she spoke between kisses and swirls of her tongue around the tip. “Is there something you want me to do? Just tell me -- anything.”

  An involuntary groan escaped him and despite his misgivings, he tightened his fingers in her hair and pushed her head downwards, giving up. As if sensing that surrender and the power it gave her, she resisted his attempts to guide her head to a faster tempo, returning to the slow, luxurious pace that maddened him.

  At times she would stop to hold him firmly and slide her hand up and down his cock while she moved her mouth to his inner thighs or belly, teasing him. Her knowing eyes flicked up now and then to check on him, confirm that he still watched. The fact was it never occurred to him to look away, couldn’t imagine taking his eyes off the sight of her extraordinary face.

  Finally he felt her lips close more firmly around him and she increased both the speed and the strength of the strokes. The velvety warmth of her mouth seemed unlike any other he’d experienced – richer, sweeter, more sensual. His orgasm felt shattering and he cried out her name. As the convulsions subsided, the word “forever” drifted into his returning consciousness and he smiled.

  Laying the side of her head on his leg, she sat back on her heels and he stroked the hair away from her face. Her expression was dreamy, almost blank, and he wondered what she was thinking. Was she okay? He should have warned her he was about to come; maybe she hadn’t wanted that. It slowly dawned on him that he could ask her. “Honey, is everything … are you all right? What are you thinking about?”

  She uncurled herself, rose and took a big slug from his beer without looking at him. Then she sat astride him again, put her arms around his neck and when she at last looked deeply into his eyes, he saw something strangely merry there. “Do you trust me?” she said.

  The question confused him. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that you need to stop worrying about me. Trust that I won’t do things I don’t want to do. Trust that if you ever do something I don’t like, I’ll let you know. Okay?”

  What a radical idea, he thought. Most women had seemed to expect him to guess -- and then gotten angry when he’d guessed wrong. “Okay,” he said. “That will be nice.”

  She kissed him lightly, stood up and walked into a laundry room that led to the back door. She reappeared with a basket of folded laundry and began rooting through it. “I think maybe you should ‘slip into something more comfortable.’” Tossing a pair of sweatpants in his general direction, she said, “These might work -- they’re the ones that are too long on David.”

  “Oh,” he said, fielding them one-handed. “I thought … don’t you want to go upstairs?”

  With a look of exaggerated suspicion she said, “What are you, superman? Abs of steel, dick of iron? Geez, give yourself a chance to recharge, all right?” She pulled open a drawer at the end of the counter, adding, “And anyway, I’m getting hungry. Oh, look, here’s the Allen wrench. Never around when you need it though, is it? Here we go.”

  She came back to the table and slid a folded piece of paper across to him. “Delivery in this town is just a tad limited. There’s pizza, or pizza. What do you like on yours?”

  If he n
ever saw a slice of pizza again it would suit him fine, but he opened his mouth intending to say, “whatever you like.” Then he looked at her face and felt something strange and profound sweep through him, something that left him feeling almost breathless. “I’m pretty sure I might fall in love with you, so I’m going to tell you now that I hope I never eat pizza again. Don’t you have eggs or something?”

  “Sometimes we do, sometimes we don’t,” she said nonchalantly. She got up and peered into the refrigerator again. “Three,” she said, pulling out the carton. “Not enough.”

  “Any comment on the … other thing I said?”

  She set the eggs on the counter, turned to him with twinkling eyes, and shrugged. “Nah. I think I’ll let that go on by. Maybe someday you’ll come up with something a little more … definitive. I lost count of the qualifiers in that statement.”

  Clearly, she found him terribly amusing; she seemed to be on the verge of giggling. And what had he expected her to do with that admittedly half-baked declaration – swoon with delight? He decided it was time to really knock her off her feet. “Fine,” he said. “Stand aside and I will attempt to redeem myself. Prepare to be dazzled.”

  “You don’t think I’m already dazzled?” she said, sitting down at the table and crossing those elegant legs.

  “Obviously not enough. Where do you keep …”

  Studiously ignoring her, he began opening and closing cabinets and creating a mental catalog for future reference – whoa. Thinking of moving in, buddy? Might want to check with her first. He imagined he could feel her eyes on him as he assembled ingredients and found a big mixing bowl.

  After a few minutes, as he poured and stirred, he realized he had to fight the urge to whirl around and check on her. For all he knew, she was now yawning or had begun balancing her checkbook. Seriously, he told himself, you have got to calm down, be cool. But when, for the love of god, would he stop feeling so excited? And this time the word that popped into his head was “never.”

  Never would she cease to excite him; never would he tire of her. A sane man might think he was jumping the gun, but since he no longer considered himself a sane man, he didn’t have to worry. And if he wanted to know how she was doing, by golly, he could ask. “Do you find yourself rapidly losing interest in me?” he said, without turning around.

  “I am watching with delight and amazement. I may as well tell you now that we set the bar very low around here when it comes to cooking.”

  “What a shame. I think however, that you make up for that with some of your … shall we say, other skills.” He stuck a finger into the batter and tasted, then grabbed a dishtowel to wipe his hands. “Now, if you will find me a big fry pan, I will proceed.”

  Chapter Eight – Monday Night, Part 2

  What Alice thought was a shame was the way his shirttail hung down, hiding his ass. She’d watched him moving around her kitchen with a natural grace and sense of purpose that was making her tingle again. Every time he reached, bent or squatted on his heels to peer into the depths of a lower cabinet, she imagined the muscles stretching and flexing beneath those damn clothes.

  If she weren’t so curious about the outcome of his project, she would come up behind him, slip her hands under the shirt and run her hands up the smooth skin of his back to hook her fingers over those beautiful shoulders. The next time they made love she would insist that all clothing be removed, she vowed -- while wondering at the same time if she’d be able to adhere to her own rule.

  Why did he get the flour out? Was he baking a cake? I should have made a quick sandwich or something; we could be upstairs right now, she thought. At least he was stepping over to the stove, so it seemed they were approaching the finish line. She saw him ladling dollops of batter into the sizzling fry pan and a wonderful aroma began to fill the kitchen. Ooh, pancakes -- Alice forgot everything she’d been thinking and got up to fetch plates, forks and knives.

  With a little-boy grin of pride, he turned with the pan and spatula to serve her and got a measuring cup of warm syrup out of the microwave. She started to eat like she hadn’t seen food for days. He joined her a minute later, but didn’t immediately pick up his fork and when she looked at him, he was smiling in approval. “Women who like to eat are incredibly sexy,” he said. “I’m always suspicious of people who pick at their food.”

  Well, you’ve come to the right place, she thought. Her friends told her she ate like a field hand. “These are delicious,” she said.

  “Eighth grade, the boys had to take Home Ec and I guess they decided flapjacks would be about all we could handle. So I have now exhausted my culinary repertoire.” He was speaking between bites. “On the other hand, I also learned how to sew on buttons.”

  “Great. I’ll get out the mending after we eat and you can get started.”

  “Certainly,” he said cheerfully, and then added, in a tone that made her heart skip a beat, “if that’s what you want to do.”

  She looked over at him and those intense blue eyes made her pelvic muscles flutter and twist. Her fork clattered a little as she set it down on her plate. “I think I …”

  Realizing she had no idea what she’d started to say, Alice trailed off. She felt captivated, held in a strange way, as if she’d been pulled into some kind of force field where desire clouded all her senses.

  Everything about him struck her as almost unbearably erotic. The look of his hands, the shape of his mouth, the texture of his thick, dark hair – everything about him turned her on. Even the dishtowel he’d tossed over his shoulder looked sexy. He swirled a bite of pancake through the syrup collected on his plate and lifted it to his mouth in what looked like slow motion and as she watched his lips close around the fork Alice wanted to whimper.

  Feeling slightly unsteady, as though she’d just exited a carnival ride, Alice folded her napkin carefully, pushed back her chair and rose. “I am going upstairs,” she said rather primly.

  “I will join you, if I may.”

  “Oh, by all means,” she said, and trailed her fingers up his arm as she passed by.

  At the top of the stairs she looked back, expecting he would follow immediately, but he didn’t appear. The rattle of crockery drifted up; water was run, and then he appeared, wiping his hands on the towel. He took the stairs two at a time, put one arm around her waist and kissed her lightly. “Don’t want the syrup drying on the plates, you know.”

  She was astonished and knew her face showed it. “As a rule, I am very detail-oriented,” he said quietly. He traced the outline of her lips with the tip of his finger. “And if you would show me where you sleep, I will demonstrate how that tendency can work to your advantage.”

  Her legs began to quiver and it felt as though she couldn’t get quite enough air into her lungs as she led him down the hall. Her room was dark, lit only by the bathroom light she’d left burning. At the edge of the bed, he halted her and turned her to face him. He gently lifted her hair back and behind her shoulders, then trailed his fingers down both sides of her neck.

  With his eyes locked with hers, his fingers drifted down over her breasts and came to rest just inside the elastic at her waist. He knelt as little by little he eased the leggings over her hips and down her legs, pressing his lips to each inch of skin as it was exposed. Alice put her hand on the edge of the footboard for balance and closed her eyes.

  When the leggings were gone he remained on his knees, sliding his hands up the backs of her legs and under the elastic of her panties to caress her ass. His lips and tongue moved randomly over her thighs, moving closer and closer to her sex. A dreamy fog seemed to settle around her and Alice felt everything around her fade away except the feel of his smooth mouth on her skin.

  She found herself turning around at some gentle signal and heard herself sigh deeply as her panties were lowered and he touched his lips to the fullest part of her bottom. Then he stood and his hands slid up her torso, pulling her t-shirt with them. She raised her arms automatically as it was removed and sh
e turned again to face him.

  Stepping back, he surveyed her from head to foot and Alice watched his expression change. She saw something close to boyish wonder replaced with a very knowing male lust. It was as though she could see him planning, calculating, working out the best way to drive her crazy and she was almost frightened.

  Then he moved to her, swept her up and laid her on the bed. She watched him quickly strip and he lay down beside her, propping his head on his bent arm, watching her eyes. He put his fingers at the hollow of her throat and drew them down along her body until they lay protectively over her sex, as if in ownership. He bent his head, circled her nipple with his tongue and said, his voice hoarse, “You are so delectable I don’t know where to begin.”

  Alice stretched, elongating her spine and arching her back, opening to him. She moaned as his lips closed around her nipple and began to suck; she squirmed against the hand between her legs, trying to increase the pressure. But he wouldn’t be hurried. She slid her arms above her head, closed her eyes and abandoned herself to pure sensation, moaning with each long exhalation.

  Every nerve in her body seemed hyper-sensitized, primed for his touch. She felt the fingers between her legs flutter gently for only a moment before stopping and she arched her back again and groaned. His teeth grazed her nipple; she cried out and brought her hand to the back of his head but he moved his mouth to begin kissing his way down to her navel.

  The mattress shifted beneath her as he got up and Alice felt hands on her ankles pulling her, re-arranging her until she lay angled slightly across the bed. Her legs were moved apart and he remained standing as he leant to caress and kiss her calves, knees, thighs. Then her feet were lifted, guided back and apart and placed flat on the mattress. Now she lay completely opened to him -- and Alice heard him make a sound very close to a growl.

  The room seemed unnaturally still and warm; Alice realized she was flushing all over as he stood beside the bed, silently examining her. She lifted her head, sliding her arms back to prop herself up on her elbows. Seeing this, he moved around the bed, grabbed both pillows and stacked them behind her head. With his lips at her ear, he whispered, “I love to know you’re watching me,” then moved away again.