Clipping Her Wings

Sitting there alone, waiting for her, he had a few minutes to think about what exactly it was he had been anticipating. During the week, to his chagrin, Josh had spread the word about the date amongst the warehouse crew. The response ranged from muted snickers to some immediate and outright lurid suggestions on how to pluck the fine flower that was Clara.

When confronted with the latter, Damon just shut his mouth and walked away. He was torn between being protective of the sweet young woman whose kindness was as attractive as her looks and the urge to indulge in all the macho fantasies his coworkers were tossing in his face, as well as a few of his own.

Damon was no slouch in that area.

As Friday approached, he had instances where he would see her and his heart would sigh like a lost soul. Minutes later he would see her again and he would suddenly become all too aware of the urgent ache in his groin as he indulged in carnal thoughts about the evening.

Even as she appeared at the entrance to the restaurant and waved to him, in that moment, part of him wanted to just hold her and move slowly to the music of some waltzing rhapsody and another part of him wanted to grab her, drag her to his car, and just take her right there in the back seat.

Damon desperately needed to find a focus with this woman if he wanted to move ahead with her one way or the other.

"Sorry I'm late," she said as she pulled up her chair and sat down, "The bus took so long."

"I know. Traffic's bad. But that's okay, I wasn't here too long," he replied, "And you'll let me drive you home tonight, right?"

"Oh, don't worry. I can take the bus," Clara said as she picked up the menu.

"No. You're going to let me drive you home," Damon said realizing too late he may have spoken a little too firmly. Clara looked up with a quizzical expression. He flashed an awkward smile.

"Okay," she said calmly, "That'd be very nice of you." She quickly returned to looking at her menu.

"No problem," he said trying to contain his stiff smile. But it was a problem. He had absolutely no control over how the date was progressing. To some extent, it was his own fault as he couldn't decide what he wanted from her. Being able to drive her home would at least extend his time to think about this.

They didn't say much until they had ordered. When they did start the conversation, Clara did most of the talking and Damon was more than content to listen and to watch her. She was wearing a plain pale blue skirt that hung just above her knees and another white cotton shirt with a simple pattern design around the v-neck collar. Her hair was in a half bun, deliberately pulled wisps of hair flowing down in the back. It was decidedly casual except for one small hook. Around her neck she wore a tight velvet choker with a gold heart pendant. It was almost downright sexy resting around her soft white neck and Damon undeniably was aroused whenever he gazed at it.

He found lots of things to look at as she talked. Aside from her attire and her glowing face and hair, her hands were very animated as she talked. The more passionate she was about her topic, the quicker she would speak and the more animated her hands became. And she was passionate about many things including her love of music, her family, traveling, and her spirituality. Her beliefs were admirable, even compelling as they defined her as a person, which is what Damon had found so alluring. But he knew that spirit could be an obstacle as well if he decided he wanted to explore more intimate roads with her.

Strangely enough, with this thought in mind, Damon's eyes tightened and he drew his mouth into a fine line smile. The challenge of getting past her convictions had become attractive in itself.

"What are you smiling about?" she asked with a coy grin.

His mind was starting to run in a smooth rhythm again, "Just thinking how much I enjoy just listening to you...and watching you as we talk. You seem to speak just with your hands."

For the first time that night she blushed, "It's a bad habit. I wave my hands around too much. I talk too much." She folded her hands together and lowered her stare to the table silently.

"You have lots to talk about," Damon said.

"No. I just go on and on sometimes."

Damon tilted and lowered his head trying to meet her eyes. When he did, he placed a hand on top of hers as she rested it on the table and said firmly, "No. You don't."

Clara warmed to such an honest remark. She looked into his light brown eyes and felt more at ease. The conversation became more comfortable. She didn't pull away from his hand.

Damon's confidence swelled.

They talked through dinner, through dessert, and through seconds of coffee. They decided to forego trying for a movie, instead lingering in the restaurant long after the family crowd had gone. Several more times throughout the evening, Damon reached out and touched her hand and by the end of their dinner, she was doing the same.

Clara smiled inside. She realized she was actually developing an attraction for him. He had an honest smile and expressive, handsome face. And he seemed genuinely interested in her as a person.

He still hadn't decided how he wanted the night to end.

As they got up to leave the restaurant, Clara noted something bright gold twinkle at his collar. Damon reached under his collar and pulled out a necklace and pendant, a simple gold crucifix.

"That's really nice," Clara said, almost pleased by the sight of it, "But there's something wrong."

Damon looked down at it around his neck and frowned. He watched as her hands reached for the pendant.

"The clasp has slipped to the front," she said holding the pendant and adjusting the necklace. She stared at it as she did so and added, "Now you can make a wish."

Damon had his eyes on her as she was looking at and holding his pendant. "What?" he asked.

"I moved the clasp to the back," she answered, "You're supposed to make a wish."

She lowered the pendant against the top of his chest, gently stroking the tips of her fingers around its shape before pulling her hand away. Then she turned and headed for the restaurant exit.

Still standing at the table, Damon was breathing deeply. He watched her skirt sway seductively to the graceful motions of her hips. He had made his wish when she had touched his chest.

***********

Their conversation didn't stop while in the car. If anything it got more raucous as they joked and teased one another. Damon liked the way Clara's voice lilted and emoted, and he loved her fresh unhindered laugh. His body tingled each time she would reach out and touch his shoulder and then he would smile when she would say with the utmost honesty, "Oh, I'm sorry. I shouldn't distract you when you're driving."

Truth was, Damon's driving was on automatic already. It was her perfume that had got to him, a light, unobtrusive scent that wafted gently to him. It was sweet like her. Not sweet like the smell of flowers, but sweet AS flowers. Often at work, without turning his head, Damon knew Clara was or had been in the vicinity just by the indescribably sweet scent of hers. Now in the enclosed confines of the car, the heady aroma seductively wrapped all around him, whetting his appetite for her.

They pulled into the driveway of a large detached home. There were no lights, the big yard entirely in the dark.

Damon peered from behind the wheel, "Looks like nobody's home."

"Actually, my landlords live in the house and they're away in Florida. I'm renting the basement," she said, then frowned as she unbuckled her seat-belt, "The entrance is through the back."

"It looks pretty dark," Damon remarked.

"I forgot to switch on the patio lights before I left," Clara sighed.

She had already pulled the handle on the door before Damon realized the night was ending abruptly. He started to speak, "Uh, Clara..."

"Thank you for the dinner," she said with a beaming smile as she stepped out of the car. She leaned back in and continued, "I had a nice time, Damon. A really nice time. See you at work Monday?"

Damon was stuck in a pregnant pause trying to find the words he wanted to speak. In that moment, he suddenly caught another glimpse down the neck of her shirt. He stole a quick look, then up to the fetching choker around her neck, and then finally her deep attractive eyes. There was a nudge in the crotch of his pants. He switched off the engine, opened the door and got out.

Clara stepped back on her side of the car, holding the door, a startled expression on her face.

"I'll walk you to the door," he said suddenly.

Almost as quickly she snapped, "No it's okay!"

"No. It's not okay. It's dark back there, Clara," he remarked.

"I know. I've done this before. I forget to turn on the lights and I come home-"

"Well, I'm here so I might as well help you to your door, right?" he said cutting her off. Without letting her reply he began making his way to the side of the house. He looked back to her.

She had still been standing beside the car, watching him. Reluctantly, she closed the door and walked towards him.

"Thank you," she said softly but without looking at him.

He smiled and nodded, letting her pass by him. He followed behind her. The sweet scent of her perfume mingled with the smell of the cool night air and the fresh earthy smell of the garden in the backyard, illuminated by the glow of the moon. As they made their way through the back, Clara looked back at him. She flashed a nervous smile when she saw him looking right at her. Damon swallowed back the eager anticipation racing up his gut. He could sense he was taking control of the evening. More importantly for him, a sense of clarity had fallen upon him. Frozen in the moment, standing behind her, absorbing her smell, admiring her slender and soft form, drawn to her indomitable spirit. He would answer the yearning in his gut, and the illicit desires in his heart and mind.

Tonight, whether she sensed it now or not, this sweet angel Clara was going to have her wings clipped.

They reached her door. Clara pulled out her keys and inserted it in the lock. Damon leaned up on the side of the house, staring at her, grinning at her.

"Thank you again," she said even more softly, only glancing at him from the side of her eyes, feeling his own upon her. She worked the lock, her keys rattling. There was a click. She quickly turned the knob.

"Can I come in?" Damon said.

Clara hesitated. Still looking at the door, she exhaled a long breath and then turned to him, her hand never leaving the knob. "I-...no, maybe we...I'm sorry maybe I should just go to bed. It's been a long week and I'm tired..."

Damon found her sudden skittishness to be too much to resist. He pressed his advantage, leaning in and speaking with a slick tongue, "Come on Clara. Let me in."

She looked at him, her mouth open but not saying anything except stunted sounds. Her urge to leave him on the steps of her door smacked head on with that charming grin and eager eyes on his face. She opened the door and walked in quietly. As she passed through the door Damon heard her say, "Okay."

Clara walked ahead through the apartment switching on the lights. It was actually a fairly big space but the wood wall-paneling made for a darker, warmer place than might be expected. The usual vacuum-like muffled sounds from being in a basement were present. She had it simply decorated, books and trinkets on shelves, country-styled furniture, a small stereo, no television.

Damon stood in the foyer until she returned.

"Let me take your jacket," she said, her nerves seemingly easing a bit now that he was already in the apartment.

She hung his coat in a closet and then turned to him clasping her hands together, "Would you like the tour?"

Damon folded his hands behind his back and walked toward her, grinning sheepishly, "By all means, show me your humble abode."

"This is the kitchen," she said pointing.

"Is that genuine linoleum," he commented.

She smiled and continued, "The dining room."

"Or the office by the looks of it," he joked commenting on all the papers on the table.

"Living room," she said stifling a chuckle.

"That fake wood-panelling is a real selling point."

She opened a door and posed like a showgirl, "The bathroom."

"Where one takes a bath, I suppose?" he mocked.

She slapped him lightly on the arm her eyes widening, "I suppose!"

They walked to another door. She swung it open.

"The bedroom," she said waving her hand towards it, "Where I suppose one would sleep!"

Damon strolled in and looked around. Her most private sanctum was clean and pristine with an effeminate decor that reflected her own demure nature. He walked right up to the bed. Looking at it he said, "I suppose...among other things." He pushed two fingers into the mattress.

The vacuum silence hung in the air. He could feel her mood shift immediately, her heart skip a beat, her uncertain gaze fixed on him. He liked it. Very much.

He walked around the room, looking at the pictures on the wall, the items on the dressers and bed stand, waiting for her next move.

"Would...you like something to drink?" she asked, again her voice switching to an uncertain tone, "I have Coke or Sprite..."

Damon shook his head, grimacing towards her. He continued thoroughly examining her bedroom, knowing she was thinking of a way to get him out of there.

"Oh!" she suddenly piped in with a chirp her hands stretched out in front of her, "I just remembered! I have something for you!"

He tilted his head and raised a brow.

"It's...it's in the living room," she pointed with both hands down the hall, "Come on. I want to give it to you."

She quickly disappeared from the doorway. Damon followed at a leisurely pace, familiarizing himself with her bedroom.

By the time he made it to the living room Clara was already sitting on one end of the couch, her posture upright and prim.

He stood for a long moment in the front of the room just to look at her. Clara shifted nervously on the couch, waiting for him to join her. He sat down on the other end, leaning forward and clasping his hands together, awaiting her 'gift'.

She had a black book on her lap.

"Now, this is something special," she said slowly and deliberately, "I just wanted to give you something."

She handed the book to him like she were handing him a diploma. Damon scanned the cover. It was a book entitled "Chosen Paths: Teachings of the New Testament". He raised his eyebrows in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that.

"Stealing from the company again?" he joked.

She smiled and said, "I got that for you."

"Hey! You shouldn't give me this. This is way too nice," he said. He dragged his fingers along the grain of the cover.

"Well, you always seem so sure of what paths you take," she said, "You just make your choice and you go right at it. I'm thinking this will help you decide what paths to take before you go down them."

She spoke with a certain conviction, strong and confident. With his own mind clear in thought, Damon understood why she was giving this to him now. This was her shield, her distraction, the way she could usurp the uninhibited thoughts of guys moving in too strong for her. She was throwing water on the fire and obviously, as evident by her confidence, the tactic had been successful in the past.

However, Damon could see right through the manoeuvre as clearly as he envisioned how he was going to play out the next few minutes with his own game plan. He was now certain of his own convictions. The knowledge that he had cracked her final wall sent a surge of anticipation through him.

He opened the book and flipped through the pages, "I...don't know what to say, Clara. This really means a lot."

She nodded, her eyes squinting as she smiled broadly.

"Thank you," he said as he slid over to her on the couch. He reached out and gave her a hug happy to feel that she didn't resist the gesture. As they pulled back, his dark eyes met hers, a determined, calm on his face. He leaned in close to her, tilting his head.

Clara's smile immediately vanished, replaced by panic. She leaned back away from him, pressing into the arm of the couch.

"Uhh...here," she pulled the book away from him, put it on her lap and opened it up. She ran her fingers along some of the paragraphs and said,"There are some interesting passages in here."

Damon glanced down at the book then back at the side of her face as she began to read. Her eyes were fixed on the book but he could see the thoughts racing behind them. She was so entrancing, her anxious behaviour so appealing. It amused him to think that she didn't know that everything she was doing now only served to arouse him more and more, the nudging in his pants growing, pushing higher.

He gently put his left hand on top of hers. She stopped reading.

"What are you doing?" she asked in a hushed voice.

"Just making you comfortable. Relax," he said, stroking the top of her hand gently.

His right hand moved to her shoulder and tickled the hairs on her neck.

"Clara..." he whispered.

Reluctantly, she looked up at him. She soaked in the determination that was set upon his dark, handsome face. When he moved towards her this time, she only leaned back slightly. Clara gulped and closed her eyes.

His lips met hers in a gentle, tender kiss. Her lips were so soft, with the slightest tremble tickling his mouth. Damon pulled back and smiled. She found it to be so warm and genuine, she couldn't help but also smile slightly.

Damon leaned in again and she met him. Another long, lingering kiss. This time he pulled away only briefly. She blinked. He caressed the back of her neck. Then he moved in again. His lips parted this time, kissing her lower lip before enveloping her mouth in a steamy, wet lock. Clara was taken aback by the intensifying passion. She kept her mouth closed. But Damon's passion was surging, intensifying. He wanted to sample all of her tonight. He leaned in closer, pressing in harder, lolling his head and twisting and finally pushing his tongue past her lips. Clara gasped and as she did, his slick tongue delved deep into her mouth. She pushed at it with her tongue. It seemed to only drive him on. He squeezed her hand tight.

"Mmmm..." she moaned in between her breaths. She listened to her own moans and the wet smacks of their lips. Her breathing grew heavier and she could hear her heartbeat melt into the walls of the basement.

Damon used his tongue like a measuring stick, determining what level he had reached as he crept further along towards his ultimate goal. First he moved it in with short quick bursts along on her inner lip. Then he pressed it in further, rolling along her teeth then to the roof of her mouth. When he felt her own tongue begin to move and dance with his, revelling in its nervous and uncertain movements, it was all he could do not to pump his hand in the air. The thing was, his hands would be busy elsewhere.

He let go of her hand and let his left hand drift to her exposed knee. Clara opened her eyes and looked down but didn't breakaway from their kissing. He massaged her knee, then rolled his hand to her inner leg, sliding it upward to her inner thigh, pushing her blue skirt up high. The slightest touch of her velvety thighs sent a shudder through him. She felt so tender there.

For the briefest millisecond, as she felt his warm heavy hand press and stroke its way up her leg, Clara thought about letting him go as far as he wanted to explore. It felt that delicious. But then the sounds, smells, and feelings of lust and passion all came together and she suddenly did everything she could to prevent them from overwhelming her.

"Mmmm-no! Wait...Damon, stop!" she said. She turned away from his kiss and pushed his hand out from under her skirt before tugging at it to pull it down. Damon leaned back on the couch. they were both breathing deeply. She lifted the back of her hand to her mouth, and sat frozen blinking at the floor trying to compose herself, thinking about what had happened just seconds before, thinking about what might have happened if she had let it go on.