Harmony Ch. 01

She walked up to the counter, grabbed the condoms, said, "Thanks," shoved them in her purse, and then walked right out. The guy was thankfully too startled to follow her. She walked back up the street, stumbling a little on her sandals. Only when she was standing at the corner, looking up at Calvin's building, did she realize how drunk she was. She took a deep breath. Peered at the mailboxes. Yes, there was his name: Calvin Leonard, 3B. She rang the buzzer. After a long moment, rang it again.

For the first time it occurred to her that he might not be there. What if he was out with some other woman? She had been scared of him wanting her, but the thought of him not wanting her was worse. She peered at the buzzer to make sure she'd rang the right one, was about to ring it again when she saw someone coming down the stairs. Calvin, in gym shorts and a dark blue shirt. HIs hair was mussed like he'd been sleeping, and he looked startled to see her.

What time was it? Had she woken him? She felt a pang of embarrassment as he opened the door.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry," she blurted. "Did I wake you?"

"No, I was up." He cocked his head like a puppy, curious. "Are you okay?"

"I wanted to see you." She shook her head, trying to clear it. "I can't do any of this right."

"Have you been drinking?"

"A little," she admitted. "I think I had to. To get myself here."

"Ah," he said. For a moment she thought he was going to tell her to leave. But then he smiled a little and said, "Let's get you sober, then."

She followed him up the stairs, her heart pounding. Calvin's apartment; bigger than she expected, and strangely shaped. The tiny kitchen was right off the entryway. She leaned against the doorframe while he got a glass of water from the cabinet and started filling it with water. He rinsed it out; that little gesture, thoughtful and thoughtless at the same time, somehow made her ache for him.

"Do you want to sleep with me?" she asked.

He paused, turning off the sink. Then turned around to hand her the glass. "Drink," he said.

She took a long swallow.

"I do," he said. "Very badly."

She smiled. "You're honest."

"I am. Keep drinking."

She obeyed, looking up at him. He seemed very big to her in that moment, broad-chested and broad-shouldered. She finished the glass, sat it down on the counter, and reached out to touch him, putting her hands on his chest. He felt hard, sturdy, warm. She slid them around his waist and leaned against him as if they were slow-dancing, and not standing in the doorway of his kitchen. He smelled like coffee and soap and some other masculine scent that was his alone, and she sighed when his arms came down around her. She looked up and found him looking down at her, surprised.

"Hi," she said.

He laughed a little. "Hi."

Then she stood up on her toes and kissed him. Soft kisses at first, sweet, testing the waters. He must have been drinking coffee; she tasted it on his lips. She opened her mouth, and their kisses grew hungrier, needier. She pressed her body to his, ran her hands over the muscles of his back. She could feel him growing hard against her. When she tugged at his lower lip with her teeth he made a deep noise in the back of his throat and pressed her against the doorframe to kiss her even deeper. He was stronger than she'd thought, and she wanted him to pick her up, pin her down, take her any way he'd have her.

I have to stop, he thought; she's drunk. But he felt a little drunk himself. Every time his lips left hers for a moment he was drawn right back in. There was no sating his appetite for kissing her, touching her. He tried saying her name.

"Ginny."

"Mmmm." She opened her mouth to him again, irresistible, and he met her for another kiss. Oh, but her hands were sliding down his chest to the waistband of his shorts, and if she got that far, he'd really be lost. He caught her wrists just before she got there and forced himself to take a step back, putting a little space between them, though her hands were still touching his chest.

"Don't you want to?" she said.

"Oh, God, yes. But..." he took a breath. "After what you said last time..I need you to make the choice sober, okay?"

"Oh," she said, sounding dazed. Her hands were still moving, stroking his nipples through the thin cotton of his shirt, and he groaned, stepping back even further and gently removing her hands from his body.

She shook her head like a dog shaking off water. "I'm sorry," she sighed, leaning back against the doorframe and putting her hands to her temples. "I don't know what I'm doing. If you just wanted sex, I could--but this is all new to me."

"What is?"

"This." She gestured to the space between them. "I've been with people, but I've never been in a...relationship."

"That's okay," he laughed. "Neither have I."

"Really?" She lifted her head. "You've never had a girlfriend?"

"Nope." He shrugged. "Never met the right person, I guess." Then, in the interest of honesty, he added, "I've been told I can be difficult."

She laughed. "You can be. But I like you."

He relaxed a little. "I'm glad to hear it."

She looked at him wistfully for a moment, then sighed again and pitched forward until she was resting her head against his chest again. "It scares me," she said to his shirt. "How much I like you."

He tentatively rubbed her back, unsure what to make of that. "I think you should drink some more water."

"Do you want me to leave?"

"God, no. I mean, I'll walk you anywhere you want to go, but you can stay. I'd love it if you stayed."

"I'd like to stay. With you."

"Why don't you drink a little more water and I'll get you something to sleep in?"

She dutifully drank her glass and he came back with a soft white shirt of his and a pair of his boxer shorts. She changed in the bathroom. Calvin's bathroom. There was nothing fancy about it, except that it was his razor on the side of the sink, his towel on the back of the door. His clothing that she stepped into, hanging loose on her frame. She looked at herself in the mirror; her face was flushed. Standing in his bathroom, in his clothes, she realized she was already more intimate with him than she'd been with anyone she'd ever slept with.

When she came out of the bathroom she padded down the hallway to the living room, where he was bent over his computer. She saw that he had a couch, a coffee table, a wall-mounted stereo, and an electric keyboard with headphones and two giant computer monitors.

"This is where you work," she said.

"That's the mother ship." He clicked something and straightened up. "Let me show you my room."

His bedroom was surprisingly neat, though his bed was unmade. He had flannel sheets and suddenly nothing looked more inviting.

He adjusted the covers a bit. "How are you feeling?"

"Don't worry. I won't be sick in your bed."

He smiled wryly. "Excellent news."

She curled up under the blankets, and for a moment, Calvin looked as incredulous as she felt--that she was here, in his bed. Would he get in with her?

"I've got to take care of a few things," he said. "Will you be okay for a little while on your own?"

"Sure," she said, stretching out on the sheets. "I'm just glad you're here."

He disappeared into the living room, leaving the door three-quarters of the way shut behind him. She lay in the relative darkness. Calvin's room. Calvin's bed. She swam into it, lay with her arms and legs out for a moment like a starfish. Despite her sleepiness she still wanted the pressure of his body against hers. Thinking about the way he'd been kissing her in the kitchen made her nipples burn, made that lovely ache throb in her cunt. She threaded her fingers down beneath his boxers, her panties, and stroked herself, thinking that surely Calvin must be doing the very same. He had been trying to hide his arousal at seeing her in his clothes, but he hadn't succeeded. She was wet, wet, wet, and she imagined Calvin, locked in his bathroom, working himself to the thought of her. Calvin groaning like he had earlier when she bit his lip, Calvin coming, pulsing and throbbing, and then that wonderful heat blossomed in her in waves and she clutched Calvin's pillow with her free hand.

Calvin stood panting in the aftermath of his orgasm, his come dripping down his belly, his hand. The moment after he'd left her he'd gone straight for his bathroom, almost as if pushed there, had locked the door, and stroked himself, imagining Ginny moaning his name, begging him, and had come with a raw, jagged ferocity, almost embarrassingly fast. For a moment he thought it was unendurable, that he couldn't sleep next to her without taking her; but then the feeling began to fade, his breathing slowed, he knew he would be all right. He cleaned himself up, brushed his teeth.

When he eased back into his bedroom, Ginny was lying on her back, the covers halfway pulled up, one hand resting on her belly, the other on the pillow above her head. He thought she was asleep, but as he slid in next to her, she let out a long, sweet sigh and rolled over, into his arms, until her head was resting on his chest. He let his arms come down around her, held her close.

"Are you all right?" he said softly.

"Mmm," she purred, snuggling into him. "Are you?"

"I've never been better," he said truthfully, and kissed the top of her head. Though he lay awake for a long time after she fell asleep--thinking of the morning, of what might happen, he felt another wave of arousal--but she was warm and soft in his arms, and soon he let himself give in to feeling drowsy. What happened in the morning would happen. It was enough, now, to have had this: Ginny in his arms, her breath hot on his neck. He drifted off, and slept better than he had in months.