Echoes 03

He blinked. That dress was disturbingly similar to the last thing he'd seen is wife wear, a lifetime ago. No. Get that shit right out of your head, you fucking moron. He was here now, with a goddess on his arm, and, for the moment, the past didn't exist. It fucking didn't.

"So...?" Isabella drew him to the side, sweeping her arm out across the dance floor, waiting for him to comment.

Chase tried to remember how to look confident. "It's beautiful. I never knew this place even existed." It was the truth, the dance hall was done up like a fairytale. "Do I need to get you home before your coach turns into a pumpkin?"

Isabella gave a genuine laugh at that, snort-free, though. "It's exclusive. Members only. Recruited members only." She tugged at his coat, clearly proud. "Don't worry, I made sure you'll fit right in."

He couldn't deny she was right. She had made sure of it. The suit she'd finally given him, the one that had to have cost a fortune in rushed creation by itself, was freakin' amazing. As a man who really never gave much more thought to formal-wear other than what size tux he needed to rent for weddings, Chase was floored by the thing at first sight. Some kind of ultra-fashion-forward neo-gothic... masterpiece. All dark greys and gold, with an intricate pattern running through the shirt, coat, and trousers, and a distinctive row of gilded buttons climbing up to the high collar, the thing made him look like a freakin' male-model. It was even tieless, which he loved. He felt like a prince, and truly believed that, if he was given a gold-topped cane, he would be regal rather than pimp-like.

If only he weren't minutes away from showing the world, once he fell flat on his face, that you can dress up a monkey all you want, but you can't force it to be a panther. It was a real shame.

"Belly, you know how much I love this outfit--I don't think I stopped gushing the entire ride over--but you have to know... I never, uh..." He jerked his chin at all the fancy out there. "I never..."

She looked up at him in genuine surprise. "What are you trying to say? You don't belong?" She shook her head and fiddled with the lapel of his coat. "Chase, I've already seen no less than five women shoot me looks of raging envy. That's the honest truth." She chuckled. "I know that I'll be getting more than a few innocuous queries about how I found my newest boy toy. Then a few more not so innocuous ones about giving them your number."

Well that can't be true. Whatever; Chase was sure she just needed to tell herself that. "That's not it... exactly." He shrugged, uncomfortable. "Belly, I can't dance. Never learned."

"Never tried, I'll bet." She didn't miss a beat. "I know that Elizabeth always said much the same about herself, and I imagine the two of you found all kinds of clever ways to avoid it whenever you were faced with the expectation." Her eyes sparkled mirthfully. "I was around for your prom, remember? God, your wedding was quite the spectacle too. Everyone thought you were being... I don't know... avant garde?"

Chase scratched his head, chagrined. "Heh, well, be that as it may..."

"Just come with me." Brooking no argument, Isabella took him by the wrist and drug him out onto the dance floor. Nonplussed, Chase let it happen, then told himself that she was going to be more embarrassed than him. This was her crowd, after all. She positioned the both of them, putting his right hand on her left shoulder. "We'll start with a waltz. Easy. Just... move with me." She gave a slow, sultry smile. "Put all that patience and expertise at delayed gratification to a... different use." Isabella waited for the next song to start, then laced the fingers of their free hands together. "Okay, now step forward with your left foot..."

It was awful. Then it was bearable. Then it was... kinda nice. Then it was a goddamn blast. After an hour, Chase bemoaned all the years he and Bizzy had lost by not giving this a try. It helped that Isabella had tapped into an absolutely shocking talent as a dance instructor, and probably didn't hurt that she was grace personified too. She was a feather in his arms; if feathers could be both firm and pliant. Domineering and yielding. Unearthly and desirous. Oh lord, those slow dances were... god, they were so...

After a giddy laugh and a grateful peck on the cheek by Isabella, along with some sincere praise at how fast he was getting the hang of it, the pair decided to take a breather on a plush velvet divan to the side. Chase sat next to his partner and struggled. Dammit, I'm the one who's supposed to be scoring points here. Do not do this. Do not...

"Belly... Thank-you." Ah, fuck it. To thine own self be true, dumbass.

Isabella's eyes widened a bit. "So... you like what I've been doing to you?" Her grin grew wicked. "The new experience I was able to give you?"

Not exactly subtle. Guess that's how she wants to play this. "What can I say? Looks like our fucked-up situation has yielded benefits for all parties involved." There, she could make whatever she wanted of that.

Isabella's grin slipped, then vanished. "Sure. I suppose we should get a contract written up. Spell the whole thing out; all exchanges to be reviewed by both parties to ensure equity."

What was there to say to that? Chase didn't know. Chase didn't know if he even wanted there to be something to say. Chase didn't know a lot of things, least of all being what the fuck he was doing with his mother-in-law. What this whole crazy situation was becoming. God, what a fucking turd his life was turning out to be.

"Right." Isabella answered in his stead. She stood then, pulling him to his feet. "No reason we can't finish out the night pleasantly. We still have time before we need to... stop."

Apparently there was a reason the night couldn't finish pleasantly, because it was painfully obvious then that the magic was sucked right out of that place. They danced a few more desultory numbers before acknowledging reality, and simultaneously decided to call it quits.

The ride back home was agonizing, and the walk into the house felt like a mile. With every intention of heading straight to bed, Chase held the guest bedroom door for his date and acted the perfect gentleman by taking her hand and kissing the back of it. "I meant what I said, Miss Rossi. I really had a wonderful time, and I owe it to you. Thank-you, and have a pleasant sleep."

Isabella frowned at him, her hand hanging suspended even after he let it go. She began slowly shaking her head. "No. No, dammit. It's not supposed to end like this. This was not my plan."

Chase scrunched his brows. "Not sure what that means. Look, Belly, we don't owe each other any--"

"Fuck you, Chase. I do owe you, and I make it my life's driving purpose to never be in anyone's debt. If having me in your arms and showing you a wonderful new world didn't do it, then I know what will." And with that, she shoved him into her appropriated sleeping quarters hard enough that the back of his knees hit the bed, and he plopped down onto the mattress.

"Belly? What the hell?"

"Shut up." She closed the distance between them in a blink. "You look fucking scrumptious, and I'm going to get a goddamned taste."

When those delicate, dainty, deft fingers went right to his belt buckle and got the offending barrier opened in a mere second, followed immediately by the liberation of his fly... Chase knew he didn't have the ability to stop her from tasting a single thing that she wanted. All that was in him then was to peer down at that brilliantly-coifed ebon head as it was bent over his crotch in concentration, seeking its prize.

When she fished his length out with both hands, watching it grow under her impatience with a dark satisfaction, she gave a low hum. Approval, surprise, determination? He couldn't translate the sound, but whatever it meant, he silently gave thanks the second he felt her wet tongue slide along his throbbing cock from root to crown, then back again.

"Unngh." Any thought of point-scoring was out the window the instant she'd elicited that moan of need from him. God, it's been so long...

Isabella was... not an expert. He should have guessed it. Hell, this may have been her first ever blowjob; the probability was high seeing as how her sex life, such as it was, had always consisted of her letting some grateful rando flail away at her until he got his rocks off. Why would she need to give head?

The thing was, she was trying. She really, really was, he could tell. She licked and licked, enjoying the flesh-pop in her hands, getting him slick before moving on to using her lips and humming the entire time. She must have read somewhere that it helped... which, to be fair, it kinda did. Really though, her obvious enthusiasm was what was doing it for him. Well, that, and being serviced for the first time in nearly a year. That definitely played a part.

"Belly..." He groaned out the nickname he'd given her, then reached down to her head. This wasn't a porn and there was no way he was going to grab her by the hair and shove his cock down her throat, but he needed to touch her; to connect. He cupped her cheek and began stroking her temple with his thumb, slowly. Tenderly. "Oh sweet girl... you feel so good..."

Belly gave out a soft, nearly inaudible little mewl and nuzzled her face into his palm. Eyes still shut, she removed one hand from where it and its twin had been stroking him the entire time, and he saw it disappear down below her waist, lost in the folds of her gorgeous gown. In seconds, the noises and humming picked up, and she unceremoniously engulfed the head of his dick, sliding it into her warm, welcoming mouth after an eternity of buildup. It was sloppy, it was amateur, and it was one of the greatest moments of his entire fucking life.

"Sweet girl... sweetest girl in the whole fucking world..." Chase kept murmuring saccharine nonsense to the woman doing such an amazing thing for him, his hand massaging her face with deep affection. Belly's free hand, the one not busy with its own tasks between her legs, rose up and cupped his, squeezing to show how much she wanted it there. Her pace picked up then, and Chase felt like she was sucking him with the goal of milking ambrosia from his dick.

Finally, it was too much, and Chase moved his hand down to her chin and applied some upward pressure. "Belly... oh goddd... it's coming. Lift your head, sweet girl, I can't stop--"

At feeling her take as much of him as she could, then clamp her lips tight, Chase exploded, falling back with a cry as he filled her mouth with his pent-up seed. As her throat worked to take every ounce of it into herself, her own climax was triggered, her fingers and her mind working together so that she enjoyed the culmination of her act nearly as much as he did, and her muffled cries on the cock still lodged firmly in her mouth nearly set him off again.

Chase lied prone on her bed, his breathing heavy, his senses awhirl, and he didn't have any idea how long he was that way before he felt Belly's hands begin snaking up under his untucked shirt, and felt those loving lips plant kiss after kiss on his spent member, then lap at it like the sexiest little pussycat ever. He crooked his neck to look down at her for all of a second before he pulled her up to him and put those lips, those kisses, to better use.

Isabella was an absolute puddle atop him as he feasted on her mouth, showing his gratitude by giving back a fraction of what she gave him. He didn't stop, didn't want to ever stop... but things just don't go right for Chase Ventris. Not when there was an alternative.

"Ch... Chase..." Belly whispered his name as she found the strength to gather herself, and pushed feebly back at his chest with her wet-spaghetti arms. "Stop... we have to..."

Chase rolled back and propped himself up on an elbow, eye's dilated and heart hammering. "Wh... what?"

Isabella grabbed the edge of a blanket and curled it around her like a suit of armor. "You... you have to leave. I can't... this can't go further."

Chase wobbled to his feet and looked down on her and her refusal to meet his eyes. "Did I say something--"

"Just get out." She swiped at her eyes, still casting her gaze anywhere but at him.

"Belly, just... talk to me, please. Tell me why." Why was she rejecting him? What was wrong with him? What was it about him that made these women give him a taste of something so perfect, then tear it the fuck away?

Isabella couldn't take it anymore and finally met his eyes, and he saw the anguish there. "Why? WHY?" She punched the mattress in a show of frustration. "Because I'm not some fucking child! I'm not fucking Sylvia! I will not, will not, just... just give my heart to the first man that... that makes me feel like..."

The fuel was spent then, the tank empty, and her arm went limp at her side. "If you care anything at all about me, even if you're faking it... just go. I'm begging you. I can't let this happen." She gave a bitter laugh. "The last thing you want is for me to fall in love with you, Chase Ventris."

He did go, a mountain of what he wanted to express being buried in the center of the earth by the time he collapsed onto his own bed. As his eyes closed from physical and emotional exhaustion, he knew one thing; he'd never dreaded the coming of a following day like he did right then.