by J. J. Murray
“I’m not exactly dream material,” Patrick said.
“Yes, you are,” Lauren said. “Everything about you is a dream. I lived in a mansion, drove an expensive car, had fame, glory, awards—but I have never had love before. I wish you had written to me back then so I would have had love like this for the past fifteen years. We could have had ten children by now.”
“That’s a lot of mouths to feed,” Patrick said. “Would tonight have happened if I had written to you back then? And be honest.”
Lauren sighed. “I might have written back to you, but I probably wouldn’t have. I got a lot of mail back then, and I couldn’t keep up with it.”
Patrick smiled. “So this is perfect timing for a perfect lady.”
“I’m not so perfect,” Lauren said. “I’m still too impatient, right?”
“That’s why I proposed to you on the first date,” Patrick said. “And you don’t seem impatient now. You seem calm, hot, and collected.”
“Because you wore me out,” Lauren said. “I have never been so thoroughly, and expertly, I might add, made love to in my life. I cannot let you ever leave my side. Ever.”
“But how will we live?”
Lauren sat up. “In bliss.” She threw off the bedspread, crawled off the bed, and stood, holding out her hand. “I want you to make love to me again.”
Patrick laughed. “But there’s nothing left to break.”
“We didn’t break anything,” Lauren said. She frowned at a crooked picture. “We almost cracked that frame.”
“The lamp,” Patrick said.
“Okay, we broke the lamp.”
Patrick took her hand and stood. “But there’s nowhere new to do it.”
Lauren looked at the door. “The hallway or the elevator ?” She shook her head. “They have cameras in hallways and elevators.” She turned toward the window. “Against the window.” She led him to the window and fully opened the drapes. “I’ve never made love in the snow.” She looked down at Patrick’s penis. “I’m going to start calling that thing Old Faithful.” She stroked it gently.
“The idea of making love to you in front of the world is very exciting,” Patrick said. “But I don’t want the world to see your booty.”
“I do,” Lauren said. She put her hands around his neck.
“Pick me up.”
He grabbed her under her thighs and lifted her. “The glass will be cold.”
She positioned his penis against her clitoris. “You’ll have to put it in. I’ve got to hold on tight to you, right?”
“Right,” Patrick said. He moved his penis up and down against her clitoris until Lauren arched her back against the window. “You seem to like me doing that.”
“Yes,” Lauren whispered.
“What does it feel like?” Patrick asked.
“Like a heavy, hard, hot tongue licking me,” Lauren said. “Like someone else is licking me while I’m with you.”
“Someone else?” Patrick whispered, moving his penis more rapidly.
“Yes,” Lauren said. “Like someone else is with us and warming me up.”
“Your turn to narrate,” Patrick whispered.
“I don’t know if I can,” Lauren wheezed. “But I’ll try. Okay, um, while Patrick held her against the window, Terry licked Lauren’s clitoris until Lauren could take no more.”
“Terry?” Patrick said. “Who’s Terry?”
“My roommate during freshman year at Howard,” Lauren said. “She was gorgeous.”
“Did you ever . . .”
Lauren smiled. “No.”
“Describe her to me,” Patrick said.
“Oh, man,” Lauren said. “I’m close.”
“Tell me about Terry,” Patrick whispered. “What was gorgeous about her?” He entered Lauren but didn’t thrust.
“I was so jealous of her,” Lauren said. “She had perfect breasts.”
“Describe them,” Patrick said.
“They were C cups, perfectly round, with nipples that kind of pointed up,” Lauren said. “Please go deeper.”
Patrick thrust a little deeper. “What else about Terry was gorgeous?”
“Her booty,” Lauren said, thrusting her hips against him.
“She had a perfectly round booty, too. Apple Bottoms jeans were made just for her.”
Patrick pulled out and rubbed his penis against her clitoris. “What’s Terry doing now?”
“She’s licking my clitoris,” she panted.
“What are you doing to her?” Patrick asked.
“I’m gripping her head,” Lauren said. “I want her to stop.”
Patrick dipped his penis inside her then tapped it gently against her clitoris. “Why?”
“Because it’s your turn,” Lauren said.
“What will Terry do while we get busy?” Patrick whispered.
Lauren scratched at his neck. “Terry has left the room. It’s only you and me now.”
Patrick entered Lauren deeply and thrust her into the window.
“Patrick,” Lauren whispered. “I’m going to come so hard.”
“So am I,” Patrick said.
Patrick and Lauren nearly broke the window in room 2507 of the Millennium Hotel in downtown St. Louis, Missouri, while a blizzard raged outside.
And although Lauren went to bed with a seriously cold and sore booty, she buried her head in Patrick’s chest, smiling into the darkness.
47
I will never be lonely again, Lauren thought after Patrick drifted to sleep under her.
I will also never be shy about sex again. This man . . . Wow. The things we did, the things he said, the things he made me say . . .
Okay, I said them of my own free will.
And . . . it . . . was . . . so . . . freaking . . . hot!
I liked Terry as a friend, and I really didn’t have any fantasies about her, but why she came to mind, I don’t know. I do know that if I ever want Patrick to become five feet long and hard as steel, all I have to do is mention Terry.
I would never let the real Terry in the same state as my man.
She leaned over and looked at the clock. It’s almost six a.m. We went at it for nearly eight hours. Who does that?
She smiled.
Evidently, I do. We do.
She heard something hit their door.
Patrick didn’t stir.
I wore him out, Lauren thought. I wore out my coochie, too. She winced. I may have to get shock absorbers.
She slipped out of bed and went to the door. She looked through the peephole, saw no one, unlocked the door, opened it, grabbed a newspaper, and shut the door gently. She took the paper to the bathroom, closed the door, and turned on the light.
At the bottom of the first page in a text box was a picture of her at the airport with the caption “Rendezvous in St. Louis.”
Lauren sighed. It wasn’t a rendezvous . . . then.
She turned to page twelve and saw five more pictures of herself, all of them from Tony’s. “There’s only one of me with Patrick,” she whispered, “and you can barely see his face.” She read the caption under the photo of her and Patrick evidently leaving Tony’s: “Miss Short and an unidentified mystery date left Tony’s without eating.”
She turned off the light, went to one of her suitcases, and retrieved her laptop. She booted it up in the bathroom, signed on to the hotel’s intranet, and went immediately to TMZ.com.
After three consecutive stories about celebrity “baby bumps” and one story detailing Charlie Sheen’s latest brush with the law, Lauren saw herself staring into a camera while seated at Tony’s.
“I look terrible,” she whispered. “My hair was still wet.” She read the article while shaking her head.
Lauren Short came in from the cold and the snow last night at Tony’s Italian restaurant in St. Louis . . . because TMZ has learned, she had a secret rendezvous with an unidentified man, who stood her up.
TMZ broke the story . . . last week about Chazz “Action” Jack
son ending their seven-year relationship and three-year engagement.
There are reports that Short (38) left Tony’s without paying—and without a man. Again.
Story developing ...
Lauren closed her laptop. “Typical TMZ,” she whispered. They run with rumors until they turn into news, and they never admit when they’re wrong—especially when they’re dead wrong about everything, like they are now.
She put the newspaper in the trash can, brushed her teeth, returned her laptop to her suitcase, and climbed into bed, snuggling up against Patrick’s warm body.
She heard her stomach growl.
“Is there a cat in here?” Patrick asked.
“It’s my stomach,” Lauren said.
“We’ll have to feed that cat, then,” Patrick said. He reached for the phone, but Lauren pulled his hand back.
“Not yet,” Lauren said. “I can wait.”
“As you wish,” Patrick said. “Everything okay?”
Oh, just the usual lies in a newspaper and online, she thought. Nothing major. “Yes. I had to brush my teeth.”
“What time is it?” Patrick asked.
“A little after six,” Lauren said. “Let’s stay in bed all day.” Patrick yawned. “I wish we could. Or at least I wish I could.”
“What?” Lauren asked.
“I didn’t want to ruin last night, but I have to get back to Brooklyn,” Patrick said. “My bus leaves in two hours.”
No! “You’re kidding,” Lauren said. “Really?”
Patrick nodded. “Sorry.”
“But it’s still snowing,” Lauren said. “And the bus would be going through that mess. Nothing will be moving out there today.”
Patrick stretched his arms over his head and yawned again. “The bus got me here, and it will get me back home eventually.”
Lauren pinned him to the bed. “But that’s crazy.”
“I have to get back to work so I can make more money to take you on another date,” Patrick said. He pulled a check from under the pillow. “This should cover your plane ticket.” He held it out, and Lauren snatched it.
“When did you write this?” Lauren asked.
“While you were in the bathroom reading the newspaper and going online,” Patrick said. “Are we news?”
He knows? “Yes, but it’s all a bunch of lies. How did you know what I was doing?”
“You talk to yourself,” Patrick said. “I didn’t catch everything, but I understood. And you didn’t look terrible at any time at Tony’s.”
“There are no pictures of your proposal,” Lauren said. “I should have run a search on YouTube. There should be some film.” She looked at the check. “What do I need this for, anyway?” She tore it in half. “We’re going to be married. You don’t owe me anything. We are going to have one bank account.”
Patrick blinked. “Are you sure about that?”
“Yes,” Lauren said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just thought . . .” He sighed. “Don’t you want a prenuptial agreement?”
“No,” Lauren said.
“I thought all celebrities had prenuptial agreements,” Patrick said.
“Are you saying that celebrities can’t marry for love?” Lauren asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Patrick said. “I’m just saying that you earned a lot of money which doesn’t belong to me because I didn’t earn it. I wouldn’t feel right about spending any of it.”
“I don’t have a lot of money, Patrick,” Lauren said. “I have maybe half a million in the bank, and now you have half a million in the bank.”
Patrick shook his head. “No, I have . . . Well, now I have about twenty-two hundred dollars.”
I just tore up a check for two thousand! “You were down to your last two hundred dollars?”
“Actually, my last fifty bucks until payday,” Patrick said. “It’s a hundred fifty for the bus ticket.”
“You’re nearly . . .” This man nearly went broke for me. “You were about to spend all you had on me.”
“I’d spend everything I have to see your eyes shining like they’re shining now,” Patrick said.
“They’re not shining,” Lauren said. “They’re filling up with tears.” No one has ever sacrificed himself for me before!
“Don’t cry,” Patrick said. “I get paid next week. I’ll survive.” He hugged her. “I just wish I didn’t have to leave you today.”
“You’re not leaving me,” Lauren said. “I won’t let you go. We’ll get us some plane tickets to New York for tomorrow, not today. We are spending another erotic night in St. Louis, and we are going to make love in front of that window during the daylight this time.”
“Which sounds wonderful,” Patrick said, “but I doubt anything is going to be flying out of St. Louis today, maybe not even tomorrow.”
“So I’ll ride the bus,” Lauren said. I have never said this phrase in my entire life.
“Lauren, please don’t,” Patrick said. “I want you to come with me, but you can stay a few days and then get a flight to New York when the weather clears.”
“And miss thirty hours with you on a crowded bus? Not a chance.”
“That’s crazy,” Patrick said. He tried to get up.
Lauren pressed down on his shoulders. “Oh, so it’s not crazy for you to ride thirty hours on a bus, but it’s crazy for me to ride thirty hours on a bus?”
“Right,” Patrick said. He gently removed her hands and sat up, pulling her into his lap. “You are Lauren Short. Lauren Short travels in style. Lauren Short does not ride on a bus.”
“I used to travel in style,” Lauren said. “I don’t have to anymore.”
“But I want you to,” Patrick said. “And it will give me time to prepare my apartment for your arrival.”
“Don’t you want me to travel with you?” Lauren asked.
“Of course I do,” Patrick said. “And one day I’ll be able to afford to travel in style with you.”
Lauren leaped out of bed and began collecting her clothing. “I am going with you. You cannot stop me. It isn’t crazy. It’s love.” She pointed at him. “Where you go, I will go from this day forward. Agreed?”
Patrick started to answer.
“Agreed,” Lauren said. “We have less than two hours now, so you better get in that shower right now.”
Patrick rolled out of bed and walked toward her. “Only if you join me.”
Lauren shook her head. “We’re not doing any joining until we get to Brooklyn, man. I have to give my coochie a rest.”
He held out his hand. “I don’t want you out of my sight either. Agreed? Agreed.”
Lauren laughed as she took his hand. “You listen to everything I say.”
“I certainly do,” he said.
They entered the bathroom.
“I’m going to marry you when we get to Brooklyn,” Lauren said, running the hot water. “You know that, right?”
“But we’ve only had one date,” Patrick said.
“The world’s greatest first date,” Lauren said. “We can tell our children and our grandchildren we had one date and got married.” She started the shower and stepped into the tub.
Patrick joined her and soaped up a washcloth. “You want children?”
“Yes, I want children,” Lauren said. “At least two.”
Patrick began washing her back. “But . . .”
“But what?” A wash and a massage every morning? This is priceless!
“I just thought . . .”
“Thought what?” Oh yeah, right there. Dig into that muscle. Yes.
“Your . . . figure.” He turned her around and began soaping her breasts. “If you had two children, your body . . .”
“Will blow up like a balloon. I know,” Lauren said. “What’s your point?” And be gentle with the washcloth there.... Oh yeah. He knows how tender it is. Yes. Slowly . . . lightly ...
“Your career, Lauren,” Patrick said.
“I’m not worried about a
ny of that now.” I couldn’t possibly have another orgasm, could I? From a washcloth oozing with soap?
Patrick put the washcloth in her hand. “We’d have to get a bigger place. I have a really small apartment.”
Lauren put the washcloth back in Patrick’s hand. “You missed a spot.”
“Were you getting excited?” he whispered.
“You know I was,” Lauren said.
Patrick used his finger instead. “I have a tiny apartment, Lauren.”
Oh, geez. He knows the right speed, too! “So you’ll be easy to find. I won’t have to chase you far. Are your walls thick?”
“Solid brick,” Patrick said. He massaged both breasts with his other hand.
He’s magic. He can make both my breasts happy with only one of his hands! “You’re going to make me scream so loud tonight.” And in about five seconds, too!
“Actually tomorrow night,” Patrick said. “It’s a long bus ride.”
“Oh yeah.” She reached down and stroked his penis. “What I said earlier, about not wanting to join you?”
“Yes?”
“I changed my mind.”
Patrick smiled. “I thought you might. . . .”
Half an hour of furious lovemaking later, barely dressed, with their hair going in every direction, Lauren and Patrick stepped off the elevator....
Into a swarm of photographers.
Oh . . . no, Lauren thought.
“Miss Short, Miss Short!”
“Where are you going, Miss Short?”
“Who’s this, Miss Short?”
“What have you two been doing all night?”
“Is this the man who stood you up at Tony’s?”
“Is that a new hairstyle, Lauren?”
“Does Chazz know what you’re doing?”
“What will Chazz think about all this?”
Flashbulbs blinded her temporarily. This is why so many celebrities wear sunglasses indoors. Otherwise, we’d go blind.
She let go of Patrick’s hand and kept moving. “We are going to Brooklyn.”
Phil Thomas blocked their path and thrust a voice recorder dangerously close to Lauren’s nose. “The airport still isn’t open, Miss Short. All flights have all been canceled. How can you escape?”
“I’m not escaping, Phil,” Lauren said, “and there are other ways to travel.”
