Harmony Ch. 04

"Cal," she said.

He hated when people that weren't his family or Ginny called him that. "Maia."

"Are you bringing your girlfriend to the Christmas party on Friday night?"

"I doubt she'll want to go." The department Christmas party was a yearly ritual that, in Calvin's experience, was primarily a vehicle for prosecuting passive-aggressive interdepartmental vendettas and getting drunk in fancier surroundings that usual. The only reason Calvin went was because the chair of the department hosted it and the food and beverages were free.

"She might," Assif put in. "Unlike you, Ginny has the social graces."

"Thank you, Assif," Calvin said.

"Assuming she's real, of course," Maia put in. "And not inflatable."

"And thank you, Maia. Can I get back to work now?"

Maia pointed at him. "Bring her. I want to meet this girl."

Calvin sighed. "I'll keep that in mind."

***

"There's a party on Friday," he said to Ginny when he met her for an early dinner ahead of his library shift. "Unfortunately I have to go to it. End of the year department shindig at the chair's house. Do you want to come with me?"

The idea of Calvin at a party was too amusing for her to resist. "Of course. That's not your usual idea of a good time, is it?"

He shrugged. "Not really. It'll be better if you're there. People have been bugging me about meeting you."

"Really. Which people?"

"Maia Park, for one. She keeps asking me if I'm sure you're real."

"How ridiculous." She could see, already, that Cal was preparing himself to be exhausted by this social activity; she took it in her mind to try and make it as enjoyable as possible for him. He had been working himself to shreds this semester. His ability to lose himself in his work continually amazed her. Sometimes it was annoying; he could spend an evening at his computer, transcribing his notes into readable music, without saying more than three words to her. But then when his attention did swing back to her, it was sometimes as if all that intensity was transferred; as if she was suddenly caught in the high beam of his focus. He could become ravenous for her, making love as if his life depended on it. It was a little addicting, but at the same time, she worried about him.

Over the next few days she considered her closet, trying to decide which of the dresses she occasionally wore to clubs, back in the days before Calvin, she might be able to make appropriate for a Christmas party. After modeling a few for Cynthia, they both decided on a little black velvet dress, like a very soft slip, that clung to her in all the right places, but that she could make demure by borrowing a black angora bolero of Cynthia's. With black stockings and black heels, and her hair, freshly dyed to that bright red she loved, down below her shoulders, she thought she looked spectacular. The last touch was a little diamond brooch and a pair of dangling deco earrings that Cynthia insisted she wear.

"I never go anywhere I can wear them anymore," Cynthia said, "so let me live through you for a night. Just don't lose them. Those pretty sparkly bits aren't rhinestones."

"I won't," Ginny promised.

When Calvin arrived to escort her, he stopped in his tracks at the sight. "Ginny," he said slowly. "You look...wow. Wow. Um." He cleared his throat. "Are you sure you don't want to just...go back to my place and skip this thing?"

She laughed. "Oh, no. I intend to make a splash."

"You definitely will."

And indeed she did; she could tell from the moment she walked into the foyer. It was the sort of party that probably should have been intimidating, because she knew almost no one and she was a little overdressed. But she also knew that most of these people thought much less of Cal than he deserved, and that made her feel fiercely protective of him. She did not care what they thought of her. All she cared about was whether she could help Calvin have a good time.

She was introduced to them all, faculty and students and partners; she was given a glass of wine, there was a large table with platters of cheese and meat and crackers and fruit. She smiled and charmed and was on good behavior until she found herself cornered by the infamous Maia Park.

"Soooo," Maia said. "You and Cal?"

"That's right." Ginny took a sip of her wine.

"You're actually working with him, too?"

"I am indeed."

"And how are you finding that?" Maia grinned like it was a joke.

"Very interesting. I'm fascinated by the way his mind works."

"Uh-huh. You're not the only one." Maia downed a swig of her own drink. "He's definitely a special boy."

Oh, fuck off, Ginny thought. "I think he's a bit of a genius."

Maia made a face. "I mean, he's definitely a prodigy at the piano, but--"

"Actually, he's not a prodigy at the piano."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm pretty sure you can only be a prodigy at one thing." Ginny took the last bit of her drink, savoring the burn of the wine on her tongue, letting Maia wait. "And as good as he is at the piano, Maia?" She leaned in closer. "He's ten times better at cunnilingus."

In the speechless seconds that followed, Ginny raised her empty glass with a little shake, winked, and walked off to find Calvin.

***

Calvin was only half-paying attention to the discussion he was having; some part of him was following Ginny, always aware of her presence even if she wasn't with him. There was something vital about her that was drawing every eye in the room. When she came back from talking to Maia and touched his arm, he stopped midsentence, losing the thread.

"I'm going to get some more wine," she said. "Come with me."

Walking to the kitchen with her, he observed. "Maia can't stop staring at you."

"Actually," Ginny said, "she's probably staring at you."

"What do you mean?"

"She was being obnoxious earlier. I don't think she likes you very much. Anyway, she made some flippant comment about you being a virtuoso at the piano and I told her you were ten times better at oral sex."

Calvin nearly spat out the last of his beer. "You did not."

"I did." She grinned. "I guess I don't like her very much." She clinked her little glass against his bottle and said, "Want another beer?"

He hadn't planned to drink any more, but, laughing in disbelief at her audacity, he said, "Sure." She went to the cooler on the floor, bent to pull out a beer, giving him, intentionally or not, a perfect view of her shapely ass.

At that moment Calvin thought he might be the luckiest person on earth. He was doing what he loved, and doing it well; he was young and healthy and smart and talented, he had enough money to get by, and he had somehow stumbled across a woman he was crazy about, a woman who loved him and listened to him, who was brilliant and funny and bold and lovely, with a body that was drawing the envious eyes of the other men his age within viewing distance.

"I love you," he told her as she handed him another beer.

"I'll drink to that."

An hour later he was somewhere just past tipsy, relaxed and actually enjoying himself a little. He emerged from the bathroom and caught sight of Ginny talking to Jonas Smith, a doctoral student that Calvin had never cared for very much. From across the room he was struck as if seeing her again for the first time. The little black dress, her lovely legs, and that hair, vivid and voluminous. She tossed it behind her shoulder and he knew that Jonas was catching the fruity scent of her shampoo. Although Calvin knew that Ginny would not be remotely interested in sleeping with him, he nonetheless felt something proprietary: she's mine.

Ginny glanced over and caught his eye; he lifted his chin, beckoning her. Jonas watched her ass while she walked away.

Calvin leaned down and murmured in her ear, "I think it's time to head home."

"Oh, do you?" she teased. "Why?"

"So I can rip off that little dress and do all sorts of unspeakable things to you."

She smiled. "You naughty boy."

"Just wait." He managed to make his necessary goodbyes; on the street, as soon as they were out of view and light, he pulled her to him and kissed her the way he'd wanted to all night. When he broke away, she was gasping.

"We'll take a cab," he told her.

All the way to his apartment, in the darkness of the cab's backseat, he slid his hand over her leg, discovered with a thrill that her stockings ended at the tops of her thighs. He let his fingers trace the tops of them, the place where the nylon gave way to her hot, soft skin. Feeling deliciously daring, he went higher, finding the seam of her panties. He heard the cadence of her breathing change. He teased her, never quite touching where he knew she wanted him to. After they pulled up to her apartment he watched, amused, as she paid the driver, stumbling over her words. They said nothing on the walk up the stairs, him slightly behind her, not quite touching. That primal, proprietary urge was still flowing through him, fueling his desire. But what to do with it?

Inside the door he kissed her again, roughly, possessively, pulling her to him. She reached for his belt, but he swatted her hand away. Then he picked her up, hoisted her over his shoulder, carried her to his bed, and pinned her down on top of the covers, locking his knees between her thighs to push them apart. He clasped both her wrists in one of his hands and held them above her head; with his other he yanked at the strap of the dress, freeing one breast. Her nipple was already a tight little peak.

"Every man in that room was admiring you tonight," he said, circling his fingertip lightly over her bare nipple. "Did you notice that?"

"No," she said coyly, writhing a little beneath him, as if testing the strength of his grasp.

He pinched her nipple and she let out a little squeal. "Tell me the truth. Did you notice?"

"Yes," she panted.

"I suppose they can look all the want." He kneaded her breast. "But can they touch you?"

"Oh, no." She was grinning.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm yours."

"Good girl." He ducked down and bit her neck, just where she liked it best, and she moaned and wriggled beneath him. He let go of her hands and leaned back to pull off her bolero off her arms and then her dress over head in one fluid motion. Then she yelped in real pain for a moment--"Wait, Calvin!"

He saw that he'd caught one of her earrings somehow in the fabric, that it was pulling at the tender flesh of her ear. Swiftly he unhooked it, before smoothing the dress up again. He left it on her arms, together now above her head.

"Okay?" He rubbed her earlobe, reddened where the earring had pulled. She nodded. Beneath him she was wearing nothing but black panties, black stockings, and her strappy black heels. Decadent. Delicious.

"Everybody was looking at you in that little black dress," he mused, running his hands over her body. "But everything underneath it is mine. To touch. And lick." He bent to sweep his tongue over her other nipple, making her squirm. "And suck." He covered it with his lips, drew in the taste of her skin, then slid lower, down the curve of her dress to the crevice beneath it, following the line of her belly. "And bite." He bit the flesh at her hip. "Isn't it?"

"All yours," she agreed, squirming beneath him in pleasure.

"Mmm." He traced the tops of her stockings. "Who did you wear these for?"

She was looking at him like he was the only thing in the world. Exactly what he wanted her to feel. "You."

"Very nice. I think we'll keep these on while I make you come. But this..." he fingered the wispy lace of her thong. Such a flimsy little thing. He tore it in two without much effort.

"Oh, God, Cal," she said, half-laughing, half-moaning. Then he backed up and pushed her thighs apart.

"Tell me what you said to Maia again."

She sucked in her breath. "That if you're a prodigy...it's not at the piano."

He hovered just above her, breathing on her wetness, letting her squirm. "And the rest?" he prompted.

"Because...you're ten times better at this."

"Ten times." He lapped her clit with his tongue. "I wonder if I can make you come ten times." Another lick; her heels pressed into his back. "Or maybe I'll just let you get close ten times."

He closed his eyes and savored the taste of her, the sounds she made, the increasing desperation of her wails as he brought her close and then denied her. In the end he couldn't hold out for ten; after four she sounded pained and he was aching to be inside her. He didn't know if he had ever wanted her this badly. It was pure, raging, animal desire. He straightened up and unbuckled his belt, wishing she could see herself, naked but for the stockings, trembling a little, her hair everywhere and her legs spread for him. "You want me?"

She nodded with a noise that sounded like a yes. He grasped her hips and pulled her down to the edge of the bed, wrapping her legs around his waist. "Beg me."

"Please, please, please fuck me," she gasped, "please--"

He drove into her, groaning with relief. She came quickly, and then a second time, as he bent over her, wanting to be as deep as he could go; he bit at her neck, her shoulders, sucked her skin into his mouth, wanting to mark her; he wanted every part of them to touch, until it felt like there was no telling where he ended and she began. When he came, he felt it in every muscle of his body; afterward he felt dizzy for a moment, as if he had momentary vertigo.

"You okay?" he panted, his eyes still closed, his head still bent to her neck.

"Yes, yes," she gasped, running a hand through his hair.

They unhooked their limbs and he fought the desire to pass out long enough to remove her shoes and stockings for her before undressing himself. She got up to go to the bathroom and he never heard her come back; he'd fallen fast asleep.

He woke with a dry mouth and a headache; he wondered why he felt like this and then remembered how much beer he'd had the night before. The memory of their coupling filled him with a mix of pleasure and guilt, thinking of how shameless he'd been. He turned his head to look at Ginny.

She was still asleep, naked and curled under the blankets, but he could see the marks he'd left on her neck and shoulder. He winced. He'd given her love bites before, but never quite so many, or so brazenly. He reached over and rubbed the back of her neck gently, making her stir.

"Hey," he said quietly.

Her eyes fluttered open. She saw him and smiled, then turned on her side to nestle into him, tucking her head below his neck, slipping a leg over his hip. He kissed the top of her head. "Are you okay?"

"Mmm-hmm," she sighed, still half-asleep.

After a moment he felt compelled to say, "Are you sure?"

She lifted her head, curious. "I'm fine. What are you worried about?"

He struggled to articulate what he was feeling; her ran his fingers lightly down the line of her spine. "I feel kind of bad about the way I acted last night. I was drunk and horny and I don't like that I was rough with you."

"Oh, Calvin, don't." She cupped his chin. "You really weren't that rough. And I loved it." She grinned. "I had no idea how hot it would be to see you jealous."

He still felt dismay. "I went overboard on your neck."

"I loved it when you were doing it." She cocked her head. "Did you think you hurt me?"

"A little." He paused. "Or that..." he swallowed. It was hard to say. "Ginny, you'd tell me if I did something you didn't like, right? Or if you didn't want me to do something, you'd tell me to stop?"

"Of course I would." She tapped his chin, as if to keep his eyes on her. "You're not that kind of guy, Calvin. I've been with a couple. I know. You stopped last night when my earring got tangled up, didn't you?"

He had forgotten that. "Yes."

"I've never worried about you hurting me. You have a dominant streak, but I love it. I really do."

He blanched. "What do you mean?"

She laughed. "Are you going to pretend that you don't like being in control and making me squirm and beg you?"

"Well...okay, no. But I'm not into whips and chains or whatever."

"If you were, I'd probably be up for it. That's what you do to me."

He stroked her hair. "Maybe what I feel bad about is that I didn't feel bad when I was doing it. And I wasn't exactly asking your opinion about it, either."

"I trust you, Cal." She kissed his neck. And then a long moment later, very softly: "I love you."

He still got a thrill each time she said it. A kind of relieving warmth swept through him. "I love you, too." He settled down, squeezed her gently in his arms. As his mind quieted, he sank back towards sleep. Ginny loved him. Yet one thought floated into his head just before the fog of dozing enveloped him; Ginny loved him...only why had she sounded so sad?