Rekindled

"I look ridiculous," Mike said with a wry smile, "although I guess it won't be too bad with the five of us all looking ridiculous together."

Another side door opened then and their fifth companion emerged from the guest bathroom: Jerome Wimbley, Dwayne's brother, wore only a pair of ripped purple pants, but the entirety of his bare upper body was painted a bright shade of green.

"Say hello to the world's first black Hulk, bitches!" Jerome exclaimed as he flexed his arms.

Two melon balls and three Jägerbombs later, not to mention a great deal of friendly shit-talking, the five friends were on their way to the night's main event: a massive house party in an affluent, isolated suburb of the city. As the youngest member of the bunch and little brother to Dwayne, Jerome was the designated driver and had not been allowed to previously drink. All bets were off, however, once the real party started; each guy was responsible for his own ride home.

"Ripe for the taking, my friends," Terrance said with scarcely concealed excitement as they arrived at the house, which had a massive front driveway and very expansive grounds. It also happened to be crawling with people.

"I give it until midnight," Mike said as he fumbled with his Spiderman mask, and Todd was not sure it would last even that long, not with the noise generated by the crowd and music; the cops were almost sure to bust the thing up, and soon.

Terrance was their point-person at the party; old friends, it seemed, with one of the party organizers, so the five of them were lucky enough the bypass the teeming front door and enter via the side gate around the side of the house, which was not nearly as crowded.

The backyard was magnificent: sprawling grounds, a massive rock-formation swimming pool, three gazebos, etc. The house was one of the best houses from a party design standpoint that Todd could ever remember seeing.

That, and it was chalk full of beautiful women in ridiculously revealing outfits.

In the short span of time it took them to procure some cocktails and take position at one edge of the pool, Todd saw three slutty Charlie's Angels, two topless belly dancers with pasties over their nipples, the hottest and dirtiest group of Pink Ladies imaginable, a Lara Croft look-a-like with massive breasts, a slutty referee, two slutty candy stripers, and even, interestingly enough, a pair of slutty superheroes. Truly, it was an abundance of beauty on an unparalleled scale.

It did not take long for Dwayne and Jerome to splinter off from the group; the brothers were insatiable in their pursuit of new and varied female flesh, which was in great supply at the moment, uninhibited and unashamed.

Which left Todd and Terrance and Mike together, which was totally fine by Todd; after a long week of work and the marathon sex session on Thursday night, he was perfectly happy to take it easy and lay low for the duration of the party. He would sit back and enjoy the scenery, as it were.

"I'm not looking for much tonight," he told the other two men as he gulped down a liberal helping of his drink, some sort of rum-based concoction. "I've been hitting it too hard lately."

Terrance rolled his eyes. "You're taking it easy?" he asked. "I'll believe that when I see it."

Todd grinned. The last couple of times he and Terrance had partied together, there had been significant drinking and many females involved, but that was more the exception than the norm where Todd was concerned. He was about to say so, too, but in the next moment his night turned completely on a dime.

"Don't look now," the masked man said quietly with a nod back over Todd's shoulder.

Todd turned . . . and nearly choked on his drink.

An exceptional woman was approaching, her body on tremendous display; playing the part of a swimwear beauty pageant contestant, she wore nothing more than a skimpy silver bikini with a shimmery silver sash labeled Miss California looping down between her breasts.

Which happened to be perhaps the most incredible breasts anyone had ever seen, full and round and totally real, and larger than most woman with fake tits were likely to have.

She was strikingly beautiful with shoulder-length brunette hair as shimmery as her sash and a mouth-watering figure to match her deliciously large breasts, not to mention light milk chocolate skin without blemish of any kind, anywhere. She moved with grace and confidence, hips swaying, breasts jiggling, and the gazes of all men within sight of her followed her each and every movement with scarcely concealed desire.

Todd, of course, saw none of this; he was looking into her eyes as she approached, vividly bright and flawlessly brown, for they were eyes he remembered. He remembered how they looked when she laughed, how they watered when she cried, how they smoldered when she burned, and how they fluttered when she crested. He remembered all of those things, and more.

"Vanessa?" he said incredulously, not believing what he was seeing.

Her face, while even more gorgeous than ever before, split into a devilish sort of grin that was very familiar. "Aren't you strapping?" she cooed. "Hi, Todd. It's been awhile."

It took more than a moment for him to respond, which was unusual. He was very good with words and very good with women, but this was the woman at the top of his list, the dream, the memory, his biggest and only regret. He could feel how wide his eyes were and struggled to regain his composure.

"Two years," he said finally. "Are you . . . are you back?"

A touch of sadness flickered over her face, even as she smiled. "No," she said, and he felt a sudden weight settle upon him, "just passing through. I've got a week-long shoot starting next week. I was hoping I'd run into you. I just didn't know it would happen this soon. I've only been in town since this morning."

Todd opened his mouth, then remembered Mike and Terrance were still with them. He looked over at his friends and grinned, more than a little sheepishly. "You guys mind if I bail?" he asked, then turned to look at his former flame with as much intensity as he could muster. "Vanessa and I go way back and we . . . have some unfinished business to discuss."

Terrance spoke first. "No sweat, dude," he said, to which Mike added, "Go right ahead."

Which is how Todd found himself taking the hand of Vanessa Dorsey for the first time in more than two-and-one-half years, the small, warm, and delicate hand he knew so very well, and leading her away from the hubbub, away from the din, for a conversation long overdue.

* * *

It was something that had been happening to her since she was a kid: a tickling in the back of her mind that let her know something significant was close to happening. Her grandmother called it her intuition, her mother called it her gut, but she herself always thought of it as her soul sense.

Which is why when Vanessa stepped off the plane and the hairs on the back of her neck rose and the beat of her heart quickened and the goose bumps followed soon thereafter, she knew her time in the city of her collegiate days, a city she had not, surprisingly, visited for more than two years, was going to be significant in some way she could not foresee. Her soul sense told her so.

She was escorted swiftly from the plane to the limousine, and then to her hotel where a team of publicists, stylists, and executives were waiting for a series of events, including three separate interview sessions with reporters. Her management team, it seemed, was not wasting the opportunity to put her name out there, now that she was on the cover of a popular fashion magazine.

She finally settled down toward the middle of the afternoon after almost five hours of business, and it was only then that she checked the messages on her cell phone, of which there were several. There was only one, however, that she truly cared about.

"Hey, sexy!" the female voice leaving the message chirped. "Long time, no see. I'm so excited you're back in town, we absolutely have to get together and catch up. I don't know what your schedule is like, probably crazy, but there's a big party tonight and it'd be so cool if you could come, just like old times, you know? We could do dinner first, if you like, if you've got time. I've missed you, Vee, so much, and I know I'm not the only one. I really want to see you. Call me."

Adrienne Cooley had been one her best friends in college, and while the two had tried to keep in touch somewhat since graduation, the whirlwind of her modeling life had made it difficult for Vanessa to stay in close contact with anyone. Adrienne was one of the few she regretted not seeing for so long.

Which is why her phone call with Adrienne lasted nearly two hours, much longer than she had anticipated it would, but she did not care. There was so much to talk about, so much to hear, so much to say, that even after so long they still had not gotten through everything.

"You have to come tonight, Vee!" Adrienne bubbled into the phone.

Vanessa sighed. "I'd like to, but I don't know. It's been a long day and I don't have a costume, and I'm kind of tired, and . . . "

". . . and it sounds like you've got every reason in the book not to come," Adrienne interrupted with a giggle, "which is why I know you're coming! I've got a Miss California sash in my closet; just throw on a bikini and go as a beauty contestant. The guys at the party will go nuts!"

Vanessa sighed, but could not fight back a smile. "Ok, sweetie," she said finally. "Pick me up at the hotel and we'll do dinner, and then we'll see about this party of yours."

The squeal on the other end of the line nearly cracked the windows in Vanessa's room. "Oh my god! I'm so excited! Me and Vee, together again at last! Can't wait!"

Which is how Vanessa came to be standing beneath a gazebo in the backyard of a huge house, surrounded by Halloween partygoers, sipping her fourth glass of wine of the night, and feeling quite buzzed and happy with herself. The fact that the two of them had been beating guys off with a stick all night long had not dampened her spirits; in fact, it was kind of fun.

"Thanks for bringing me, Adri," she said quietly as she squeezed her friend's satin-covered arm.

Adri was dressed as a slutty horse jockey: black boots and white spandex pants; a purple-and-black checkered mini-crop-top riding jacket that showed off her entire stomach and deep cleavage, long sleeves and made of satin; a purple riding cap; and a long black riding crop, which Vanessa's bottom had felt the sting of more than a few times since they arrived.

"Thanks for coming, Vee," the girl replied, equally as soft, and the two shared a warm and heartfelt embrace. "We've got to make sure we do a better job over the next couple of years."

"Definitely," Vanessa agreed.

"Oh my god," Adrienne whispered suddenly, and Vanessa, suddenly concerned, opened her mouth to ask what was wrong . . . and that was when she saw him, too.

"Oh my god," she breathed, mirroring the words of her friend. There was a long moment of silence, and then she added, "Adri . . .?"

Adrienne cut her off. "Go," her friend said simply, "and don't worry about me. I have, like, twenty friends here who are pissed that I'm ignoring them. I'll be fine. Go talk to him."

Her first steps as she crossed the distance between them were as shaky as she could ever remember being, which, for someone trained to walk the high-pressure catwalks in Paris and Milan, was really saying something. Her poise grew with every stride, however, and by the time he turned and saw her coming, she was moving with every ounce of confident femininity she had, and then some.

He looked exactly as she remembered, straight dark hair, chiseled jaw, stocky physique, everything as it was in her memories, right down to his storm cloud eyes. He was dressed like a superhero in a red bodysuit, which she found extremely amusing, which helped, but still the fluttering of the butterflies in her stomach intensified as she neared.

"Vanessa?" he choked, his incredulity genuine.

He was so cute when he was flustered, and from what she remembered it was also almost impossible to fluster him, which made success that much more enjoyable. She grinned and replied in her sweetest, most sensual voice, playing it cool, "Aren't you strapping? Hi, Todd. It's been awhile."

His eyes were wide in the long moment before he responded. She wondered, fleetingly, just before his words came, if she had played it too cool.

"Two years," he said finally. "Are you . . . are you back?"

It was the question she knew he would ask, and the answer she did not want to give. "No," she replied with regret, "just passing through. I've got a week-long shoot starting next week. I was hoping I'd run into you. I just didn't know it would happen this soon. I've only been in town since this morning."

He took a moment to truly digest her words, then glanced over at his two superhero friends. "You guys mind if I bail?" he asked, then turned back to look at her, and the look he gave her then was one of the most intense things she had ever seen. "Vanessa and I go way back and we . . . have some unfinished business to discuss."

The guy dressed in green said, "No sweat, dude," while Spiderman added a moment later, "Go right ahead."

And when he took her delicate hand in his for the first time in so very long, and she felt the strength of his grip and the safety and surety it promised, rough and tender wrapped into one, Vanessa knew she was exactly where she wanted to be.

* * *

The house was sizable and it took them some time to find an adequate and available room. In the end, they moved upstairs, where an out-of-the-way door yielded a small study where the walls were lined with shelves and the shelves were lined with books, and there was some degree of quiet. There was also a desk and a chair, and a small leather two-seater couch, and French doors leading out to a balcony, shielded greatly by the trees from where it overlooked a portion of the backyard.

They sat upon the couch, next to each other but not touching save for their clasped hands, and there was very little spoken for long moments as each collected their thoughts. Until their eyes met, his grays and her browns, and they chuckled in unison as the first of three tides of tension broke.

"How've you been?" he asked, and while simple, it was enough of a beginning.

"Fine," she told him. "Busy."

He nodded, but he did not know why; she had not asked a question. He was moderately unsettled, which was unusual. "You look fantastic," he told her, saying the right thing, "and yet, you look exactly the same."

"You, too," she said with a shy smile. "Do you feel any different, with so much time passed?"

He thought for a moment. "No," he admitted, "I feel like I'm the same guy. Just two years older and a little smarter, I guess."

It was her turn to nod. "Me, too. Amazing, isn't it? I would not have thought two years could pass so quickly. Nor," she added of her own accord, not even seeing the flicker of hurt that passed across his eyes, "that it could take so long."

"The days blur," he said with a shrug, brushing past. "I know the feeling."

She smiled. "Not like college," she said quietly, and he chuckled for the second time.

"No," he agreed. "I miss those days."

She took a chance. "I miss the last one most of all."

It registered clearly on his face. "The last day," he breathed, remembering. "It's haunted me for two-and-a-half years." He looked away, then down at his hands.

She heard the truth in his voice. "Why didn't you call?" she asked, suddenly wanting, needing to know. "I would have answered."

He turned to her then, his eyes as dark as the storm clouds and twice as wild, and said, "I wrote you letters, but never heard back. We spoke three times those first four months, but only when I tracked you down. London? Florence? Paris? I could never find you."

She lowered her gaze. "It happened so fast," she said softly. "One minute, I'm in a room with seven other girls, trying to be noticed, and the next I'm on a private jet with the head of the agency and a team of professional publicists." She stopped, and lifted her gaze again. "I never knew you wrote me. I never got your letters."

It is difficult to say whether the two would have gotten past this particular moment, this particular tide of tension, without assistance of some kind. The situation was tenuous; emotions progressed swiftly, the by-product of long months of what if wondering and reverie. She was vulnerable and wanting, but scared and exposed in a way she had never really been before; her defenses were fast assembling. He was hurt and still somewhat shocked, and uncertain, none of which were even remotely commonplace; his barriers were nearly erected. Two years and a lifetime teetered on the brink, though neither could know it.

Which is why it could be seen by some as greatly fortuitous that they were interrupted in that moment: the door of the study burst open to admit a pair of half-naked young people utterly wrapped up in themselves, kissing and fumbling and panting.

He was blonde-haired and handsome, and well-built, which was easy to note since he was clothed only in a pair of blue jeans with his upper body bare. She was gorgeous, with bouncy brunette hair and an awesome body, stuffed at present into a short, skin-tight purple dress with accessorizing purple boots and a green scarf. If they had been costumed, as was likely the case, it seemed pieces of their costumes were missing.

His hands snaked beneath the bottom of her dress and clutched at the girl's bottom, giving Todd and Vanessa an excellent view of two curvy white cheeks and the purple thong between them, and in the next instant the girl had vaulted up onto him, wrapping her legs around his mid-section, his hands still cupping her ass to support her.

They stumbled across the room, necking furiously, until they collided with the wall on the opposite side, scattering several books in the process. They were completely oblivious, it seemed, to the fact that there were others in the room.

It was Vanessa's muffled giggle, given only when the man's fingers slipped inside the purple thong at its most important place, that alerted them.

They spun around, her dropping to her feet in the process and pulling down her skirt, his eyes roaming the dim light of the room before settling on the figures of the couch. He looked fazed for only a moment, before his face split into a sheepish grin full of straight, pearly white teeth.

"Sorry, folks," he said. "We didn't know this one was taken."

Todd waved a hand. "No worries, bro," he said, and meant it.

The girl was less thrilled. She grabbed the guy's hand with a huff and made for the door, making no eye contact and giving no apologies. She was either very rude or very embarrassed, and likely a bit of both. Her man, however, seemed quite amiable, his grin never faltering as he was dragged out of the room.

"Have a good time!" he called, throwing a big thumbs up as he passed through the door.

Todd and Vanessa looked at each other and broke out laughing as the second tide passed.

"Maybe I should . . . " he began.

". . . close the door," she finished, still smiling, "definitely."

He rose and went to the door, closed and bolted it; there would be no further interruptions. He returned to the couch to find her looking up at him with wide, expressive brown eyes. They were beautiful, her eyes, so bright, so passionate, and deep enough for a man to drown in.

"I remember those days," she whispered, not talking about their youth.

He took a seat, closer than he had been before, close enough to reach up and stroke her cheek. He did not, but his hands ached to do so. "We waited so long," he said softly.