Push Me Ch. 04

I opened my eyes, and there she was. My angel, her face only a few inches from mine. She wore an adoring smile, and I melted when I saw it, along with my reservations. Her love made me stronger, not weaker.

"Make love to me, please?" I asked. I watched her smile descend to meet mine. We kissed passionately, strawberries and chocolate still fresh on our mouths, tongues and lips caressing tongues and lips. I dragged her onto the bed and rolled on top of her, our mouths still locked together. Moira immediately reached down, grasped my shaft, and pulled me to her entrance. I sunk exquisitely slowly into her and we groaned in unison. I pressed myself against her and she wrapped her arms and legs around me.

I worked slowly and deeply in her, enjoying the heat and wetness wrapped around me. Her breath was ragged, and she gripped me tightly against her.

"You feel so good. You fill me so perfectly," she whimpered. I covered her face and neck with kisses. Her hands gripped me more urgently, and I began to fuck her harder. She gasped loudly, and short "uhn"s began to pour from her every time I penetrated her deeply. I gripped her ass with both hands and buried myself in hot, wet pussy. Her nails dug into my back. She threw her head back in a silent scream and began hoisting her hips to meet mine.

Her silken muscles gripped my shaft in time with my thrusts. The ecstasy emanating from our joining was all-consuming, and left no room for conscious thought. In no time, we were both lost to passion, writhing and thrusting against each other.

"I'm close. Cum with me, please." Moira gasped between moans. I held her tightly as I drove deeply and forcefully into her. Her muscles locked as she shook with her climax, and she screamed, "Craig!!!"

Seeing and hearing her orgasm took me over the top, and I clutched her tightly against me as I yelled, "Moira!" while I came deep inside her.

Totally spent, we collapsed into a boneless pile, two sets of lungs struggling to draw sufficient oxygen. "Holy shit," Moira gasped after a few moments.

"Uh huh," I replied. That started Moira giggling, which set me off, and we continued to work at catching our breath between fits of laughter.

"I think I need another shower," Moira said, once we both finally calmed down. "Someone got chocolate all over me, and I do mean just a shower."

"Don't worry. I'm pretty sure I'm not capable of anything else right now."

She reached down and cupped my groin. "Aww, did I wear you out?" she asked with a smirk while she caressed me.

"A temporary problem only, I assure you. Nothing could extinguish my desire for you." We kissed languidly for a few moments before I headed to the bathroom to start the shower. After a quick rinse, and some tender caresses born from affection more than lust, we were both clean and content. Then I looked at the clock.

"Shit. Our plane leaves in 3 hours. We gotta get moving."

Packing, the taxi to the airport, the usual airport rigamarole, and the flight home were uneventful, but extremely quiet. Then we got in my car. The weight of leaving the hotel, and Chicago, suddenly hit us both. I reached over and grasped Moira's hand, smiling more bravely than I felt. She smiled back, but I saw the concern in her eyes.

"Craig, I'm scared." Moira told me.

"Me too. I don't know where this is going. I don't know what's going to happen now, but I know I can't stop thinking about you. I know that I want to be around you every second possible. I don't want to supplant your life, but I desperately want to be a part of it, and I want you to be part of mine. I'm terrified of being clingy or obsessive, but I don't want to downplay my affection, or risk any chance that you don't know how amazing I think you are, and how important you are to me. I know the last few days have been very emotionally intense. They'd made me feel alive, more than anything ever has. I guess I'm just trying to say that, well, I'll take every bit of you I can get. I'll be thrilled to have it, and I'll never demand or expect more than you want to give. I just want to be with you."

I delivered all that without taking my eyes from the road. When she didn't respond, I turned my head to catch her face from the corner of my eye. She reached out and wrapped her hand around mine. Her eyes were misty, but a broad smile covered her face.

"I love you," she said.

"I love you, too."

"I was so scared that you would tell me this couldn't be anything more after this weekend. That I was too young. That you had your own life and didn't need me around."

"I need you near me more than I have ever needed anything. I was afraid you'd say the same about me. Except that I'm too old."

"Never. In fact, don't ever color your beard again."

"Yes, dear." I grinned at her and she beamed at me. I almost forgot I was driving and leaned over to kiss her. Not a good idea in the dark on I-26.

"But...," Moira hesitated, "I do need you to take me home. I have class tomorrow. As much as I hate the idea of sleeping alone."

"Of course, and, me too." We held hands quietly for the rest of the drive. I soaked in her calming presence and the low hum of the road as I marveled at my most important discovery -- honestly discussing feelings really works!

Fifteen minutes later, we were at her apartment. I popped the trunk and hopped out, grabbing Moira's small green suitcase and carrying it to her door. I set it down on the narrow wooden porch in front of the door, and then scooped her into my arms and kissed her. She melted against me, and we spent several minutes enjoying our parting kiss.

Then we heard, "You dyed your fucking beard!"

"Hi, Shelly," I said. Moira shot daggers at Shelly, dropping her head against my chest.

"OK, sorry, you two can get back to swapping spit. I'll take your suitcase up, Mo." Shelly looked at me expectantly. "No kiss for me?" I froze. For all her bravado, Shelly had a fragile side too, and I didn't want to suddenly shun her, but things with Moira and I had changed so quickly, and to such an intense degree, that I felt like I had cheated on Moira, with her watching, just by Shelly asking.

Then Moira saved me, sort of. I felt her hand on my arm push me toward Shelly. I looked down at her, and she gave me a look that said, "Just do it so she'll go away. I don't care." At least guilt had been replaced by awkwardness, that discomfort is much shorter-lived.

As I stepped toward Shelly, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes and parted her lips with a slight smile. I reached out to Shelly, captured her chin with my thumb and forefinger, and kissed her softly on the corner of her lips. She opened her eyes and took a breath to protest as I pulled back. I gave her a flat, dark look, making it very clear how unhappy I would be if she complained. It came across much harsher than I intended. She dropped her eyes and voiced a deflated, "Uh..g'night." She picked up Moira's suitcase, turned, and closed the door behind her. Shit. No escape from guilt this time. Way to be an emotionally clumsy oaf, me.

It must have been apparent on my face. Moira wrapped her arms around me and squeezed. "It wasn't fair of her to ask that, but ... she doesn't know anything about what happened this weekend. I'll talk to her." I sighed heavily and closed my eyes. She reached up to touch my cheek. "Don't let it get to you. None of that was your fault."

"She was so crushed, Moira, and I crushed her. Seeing her deflate like that...that really sucked." I opened my eyes and looked down at her. "But if I have to be harsh to protect what we have, I will. Nothing has ever been this important to me. No one has ever been as important to me as you are." Moira tightened her arms around me, and we stood, embracing quietly, for a moment. Neither of us wanted to pull away first, knowing it would signify the end of this amazing few days.

"This is a beginning, not an end, right?" I asked, with my face buried in her hair.

"An amazing beginning, yes," Moira replied.

"I hope I haven't made things difficult between you and Shelly."

"She'll get over it. She'll be happy for me, once I tell her everything. That doesn't mean she won't want to hang out with us and tease you, though."

"I can handle that. I figure you'll take care of her if she gets out of hand."

Moira giggled. "That's right. I'll tell her, 'Hands off my man!'" I smiled and squeezed her tightly.

"It feels strange to hear someone call me that," I said. "But, fuck, does it feel good." Moira giggled again.

"Well, you are my man, aren't you?"

"Fully and eagerly."

"And don't you forget it."

"Never. Will I see you tomorrow?" I asked.

"Probably not. Shelly doesn't have many close friends. I'm afraid she'll start to feel abandoned, but I don't want to force her to be around you until she's had time to get used to the idea. Let's just see what happens over the next few days."

"OK. That makes sense. Will you... will you tell her I'm sorry?"

"Of course, but I don't think she'll be mad at you once I explain."

"Still. I could have just ... I dunno ... I feel like I really hurt her."

Moira patted my cheek. "You're too sweet for your own good," she said. "I'll tell her."

"Thank you."

"Thank you, again, for everything."

"It was, as I'm sure you remember, my pleasure." I said in a low voice. Moira shivered in my arms.

"Mmhmm. Mine too. More times than I can remember."

"Just so you know, I plan to remember that as 'Too many to count.' and not 'Mostly unmemorable.'" She gave me another of those giggles that I love.

"I should get going," I said, "or we'll stand here all night. Not that that is an entirely unpleasant idea."

"Yeah, to both," Moira replied. I gave her one last soft kiss and a tight squeeze.

"Call me or message me whenever. Unless I'm in a meeting, I'll be available."

"OK. I'm sure I'll see you in the next couple of days."

"Good. I don't know how much longer I could take. I'm completely addicted to you." I leaned down, nuzzled her neck and inhaled deeply, caressing her neck with my lips. She shuddered, and her hands clenched my arms."

"We can't finish that, so please don't start it," Moira warned me.

I exhaled. "I know. I know." I stepped back, holding her hands.

"Goodnight, Moira. I love you."

"Goodnight, Craig. I love you, too."

The drive home sucked more than anything in recent memory. I kept reaching over to put my hand on her hand that wasn't there. I managed to lug my bag up to my condo, unpack, set my alarm, strip, and crash into bed without thinking. Seconds from sleep, Moira's face popped into my mind. My heart began to race. What Moira and I had shared was all new to me. Sad, this far into my life to be saying that, but no less true, and much more powerful for the lateness of it. It's rare one has the opportunity to enjoy something so life-changing and so powerful for the first time while being mature enough to appreciate what it is.

I took me hours to shake that image, and the thoughts, exciting and terrifying, that went with it.

I barely noticed I was at work the next day. The usual grind was in full effect. I dug out the important twenty percent of my e-mails, and then deleted the rest. When will people learn that "Reply All" is not always the appropriate course of action?

In the middle of a meeting, which I was completely ignoring, my phone startled me by buzzing in my pocket. Fortunately, I refrained yelping. Unfortunately, I flinched.

"Something wrong?" asked Tom, the team lead who was running the meeting, while giving me a curious eye.

"No no," I said quickly, pulling my phone from my pocket. "I thought my phone was off, but apparently not." Which everyone knew was total bullshit. Who turns off a cell phone outside of a hospital anymore? That's what vibrate is for. "Excuse me, I need to take this." Again, bullshit, because it was just a text message, but it was a text from Moira. "Don't wait for me. I'll read the recap. Hello?" I said, lifting the phone to my ear as I left the room and headed quickly for my office. Once I was sure no one from that meeting was following me, I read her message.

Moira: Shelly says she's sorry, and that she hopes you're not mad at her.

Me: Of course not. I'll message her. I miss you. You're all I can think about. You should ask the people in the meeting I just left.

Moira: Uh oh! What did you do?

Me: Let's just say I was caught day dreaming and leave it at that.

Moira: Ha! Just pay attention while you're driving.

Me: That's easier when you're in the car with me. Usually. Sometimes I sneak looks at your boobs.

Moira: Shouldn't have told me that. What are you going to do if I just whip them out in the car?

Me: Probably kill us both.

Moira: ROFL!

Moira: Gotta get to class. Love you. See you soon, I promise.

Me: Learn good! Love you too. I can't wait.

Then I took care of Shelly.

Me: Ain't mad at ya. We good?

Shelly: I swear I didn't know!

Me: I know. Like I said, I'm not mad, and I'm sorry I was so brusque.

Shelly: It's OK. I'd have been mad at me too. I understand now. All is forgiven.

Me: Good.

Shelly: Can the three of us hang out sometime soon?

Me: I'm usually free most evenings. You and Moira just let me know.

Shelly: OK! Hopefully we'll see you soon.

Me: Sounds good.

The "we" from Shelly sparked something in me. Not that I expected this little reunion to turn into a threesome, but, hell, the first one had. Forever the optimist, I scored myself as one for one in that department, but my perfect batting average, as enjoyable as it had been, was inconsequential when compared to the "why". I mentally rewound back to the beginning that night in the bar.

I tried to be a genial guy. If I had something I thought someone was interesting in hearing, I usually shared. I considered myself witty, and I usually get more laughs than odd looks, unless I'm being nerdy about something -- most people don't care that rolling friction is actually perpendicular to the motion of the rolling object instead of directly opposed to it. Several evenings at that bar had turned into me playing at someone else's table, or merging my table with another busy table to start a packed rota. I even spent one evening talking to lovely twin sisters about Aldous Huxley and, much to my delight, Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. They left without so much as a hug that night, and the only thing I remember about them specifically is that both of their names started with a "K". Two young women had never deliberately attracted my attention, joined me at my pool table, almost been the center of a bar fight (through no fault of their own), come back to my condo, and fucked my brains out.

Damn it, if that had been the end of it, I'd be much less preoccupied with the reason. Now I had totally fallen for one of those women, and the other apparently hadn't exactly written me off. Chainsaws are not for amateur jugglers. Moira and I. Shelly and I. Shelly and Moira. Enough potential metal-bladed devastation to take both my hands and still leave one for my chest, dead center.

I resolved to let Moira mostly handle Shelly. I knew there was nothing between Shelly and I, and a peck on the cheek didn't bother me. I hoped Moira trusted me enough not to worry about it either. I would stuff Shelly into an oil drum if I thought she was going to fuck up things between me and Moira; however, since that option would certainly sour my budding relationship, it was off the table. My ineptness frustrated me. Shelly and Moira were friends. I couldn't be outright cruel to Shelly, and I really had no desire too. I'm pretty sure I owed that entire night to her, which was, most importantly, my introduction to Moira, and it wasn't as if I didn't enjoy time with her, but I loved Moira. At least I could say I'd been with Moira more than Shelly now. That had been bothering me. Is there such a thing as "pre-cheating"?

I tried to think of a way to ask Moira what the score was, exactly. I certainly wasn't against another co-ed sandwich, but if Shelly pushed, Moira was cool, and I shot Shelly down, that would suck, and they might both hate me. If Shelly got frisky, I went along with it, and Moira wasn't OK with it ... that would be devastating. If I asked Moira, who took it more like a suggestion, one to which she was opposed, then we get to potentially catastrophic levels. I wasn't even sure how to act towards Moira when Shelly was around. Now I was even more confused. I made no progress on why and how this started, and now I wondered if it was going to completely blow up in my face. Fuck!

Nothing for it now but to play it cool and go with the flow. If I had to take Moira aside to talk to her privately, or Shelly, I would. No way was I going to let guessing and second guessing set off this potential powder keg.

The rest of the work day went by on autopilot, more e-mails pruned, more meetings spent half-listening. I drove home unconscious. Grocery shopping hadn't happened in a while, and I certainly didn't feel like cooking, so ordering a pepperoni and pepperoncini pizza happened with all the aplomb of a late night piss.

As I ate, I looked around at the dark cavern of my living room. Where had all that light and energy gone? I fidgeted, feeling the desire to do something, but no idea what. I flexed my fingers as I paced. Activities, bedroom and otherwise, with Moira had make me feel alive with that energy. Now I was filled with equal parts creation and destruction, with no outlet. I needed life around me to be that outlet. Muay Thai was my usual vent. It wasn't about the exercise or discipline or even the aggression and violence; it was about all those things in the company of others -- physical, tangible, personally validating evidence of a common interest.

My life had been pretty sparse in that area. There were few people I could call friends, almost none of them outside of my office. No one that I would call a close friend. Family was a distant thing, mentally and emotionally even when it wasn't physically. I spent the majority of my time alone, and I always had. I metamorphosed from bookworm to loner, with some credit to the parents on that one. I found out years later from my then-wife that one of them (I forget which, but it's entirely immaterial, because I'm sure it was a consensus) confessed they had given up talking to me around the time I turned fifteen, because they could no longer understand most of what I said. Teachers certainly helped with my outcast cred as well. There's nothing like the stares one gets when one hears, "Dan got a good grade on this test because he wants to understand, and he always asks questions. Craig got a good grade too, but I don't know how." Some people thought she was implying I was cheating. She wasn't the first teacher who found out I was better with the material than she was. I could be confident in myself when I needed to know an answer, whatever the question was. Except when the question was, "Do they really want me around?"

Well, I was confident in that answer, too. I was just pretty sure it was always, "No, of course not."

That just brought me back to Moira and Shelly. Maybe it was just a matter of time. They wanted to be around me because they didn't know me well yet. I hated myself for that thought as soon as I had it. Moira knew things about me that almost no one did, and she still cared about me. Yes, she was young, and yes, the emotional high from this past weekend still made rational thought an exercise in futility at best, but I still felt it was genuine. I was just suddenly much more fatalistic about its shelf life.

Fuck. Dwelling sucks.

I suddenly felt disgusted with my own hypocrisy. I had made it through some of the hardest times in my life with a simple mantra. A favorite story of mine says that a king summoned his adviser and said, "Lately my emotions have been unstable. Find for me something that will make me happy when I am sad, but, also sad when I am happy." The wise man left, and returned in a few days. He stood before his king, and said four words.