I Hate Valentine's Day

"Yes, ma'am."

"Are you mocking me?"

"Yes."

"Figures. How're your feet?"

I groaned. "Killing me."

She set her beer down on the table. "Here, put one up here. I don't give a great foot rub but I manage."

"Um, my feet probably do not smell too good after today."

"They can't smell any worse than the rest of you, come on," she patted her lap, "foot."

I lifted one foot and put it between her legs. Sandy scootched down on the couch, getting it into her lap, then with a few quick tugs pulled my black sock off. Then she wrinkled her nose.

"Told you."

She shrugged, then pressed her thumbs into my heel. I groaned.

"Good?"

"Yeah."

Then she moved up my arch. I groaned again.

"Good?"

"Oh yeah."

It wasn't just that my feet hurt, it was also that Sandy's hands were on me and were smooth, and gentle, and warm, and they were doing things to me I wasn't going to mention to her.

"You look like you needed this."

"Yes," I said, in more ways than one. Sandy's hands on me felt better than I wanted them to. I met her gaze and she smiled at me, the two of us quietly making eye contact while she eased the tension out of my muscles. Then she broke it, released me, and reached for her beer.

"How about you do me, too?" She asked, then took a long pull from her bottle before setting it back down.

"Will that work?"

"Sure, you just put your leg here," she said, moving her and me around a little so we each had a foot in the other's lap, "I put mine there, and viola. Foot rubs."

"I have never given a foot rub before."

"It's not as hard as it looks, just do what I'm doing and push hard. You've got pretty strong hands."

"How hard is too hard?"

"If I moan you're doing it right. If I yelp you're doing it right. If I kick you you're doing it wrong."

That was a mental image I enjoyed but really didn't need while her foot was in my lap, so I grabbed it in both hands and poked around a little with my thumbs. I thought about what she'd done to me that felt good and started mimicking it.

"How's that?"

"Good, but harder."

"That?"

"Harder."

"That?"

Sandy's eyes slid closed and she let out an appreciative purr. "You learn fast."

I noticed something on her ankle and turned her foot slightly. Another butterfly tattoo, this one in blue. "How many of these have you got?" I asked.

She glanced down. "Four."

"You really like butterflies."

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Where are the others?"

She mumbled something.

"Sandy?"

"That feels nice," she said.

I went back to work and so did she, although with a bit more distraction than before. I watched what I was doing for a bit, then I watched what she was doing for a bit, then I felt my eyes start to wander. They wandered up her smooth, muscled arms, slid off to the curves of her hip and waist, lingered for a time on the little bit of skin I could see below her top. Was there a bit of purple under there? Another butterfly?

Then my gaze slid up, over her almost bare shoulders, across her neck, and across the smooth swell of her breasts where they were pushed together by her arms, full and round, small nipples pressing against the fabric of her top, deep cleavage above it inviting me to look. I lingered there for a while, watching her breasts rise and fall with her breathing as my fingers pressed into the hard muscles of her feet and hers pressed into mine with slowly diminishing pressure. I glanced at her face.

Sandy's eyes were closed, her mouth a little open, and her body reclined against the arm of the couch. She looked like she was falling asleep and truth be told so was I. As nice as it would be to fall asleep tangled up with her like this we'd wake up feeling it in the morning. I was tempted, though, very tempted; oh, sorry Sandy, we both just dozed off. I wanted to, but I wasn't going to take advantage of her that way.

"Hey."

"Mmmm."

"Sandy?"

"Mmmm?"

"You're falling asleep over there. Come on, let's get you to bed."

She was silent for a moment, long enough that I wondered if she'd dozed off, then I heard her mumble something too quiet to hear.

"Sandy?"

"Come with me."

My hands froze on her foot.

"What?"

"Come with me. To bed. Come with me."

I was suddenly very awake.

"I'm tired of beating around the bush," she murmured, "just come to bed with me."

This was not where I'd seen tonight going.

"I've been throwing myself at you for the last hour, John, but it wasn't working so now I'm just asking. I know you're not interested but fuck it I'm buzzed and I'm tired and you're touching me and come to bed with me."

"For the last hour?"

"Last hour, last year, take your pick. Yes, John, I could have waited ten minutes, you just told me to keep my shirt on and it gave me ideas, okay? And I figured hey, maybe it would, I don't know. And I was a little drunk at the time but then your car broke down and there you were, in my car, and you smelled like garlic and bleach too but you also smelled like you and fuck you smell good." She pinched my foot gently. "Mostly."

Huh.

"Last year?" I asked.

She sighed. "I don't wear a pushup bra to work because it gets me better tips, John; I wear a pushup bra to work because you like looking down my top."

Huh.

We sat for a bit, quietly.

"So how come you never said yes?" I finally asked.

"What?"

"How come you never said yes when I asked you out?"

"When you..." Sandy look surprised, "when did you ask me out?"

"Like two months after we started working there. I asked you to, I don't know, a restaurant I think? And a few times after that I asked you if you wanted to do something after work or the next day and you kept saying no, you had plans. I figured you weren't interested."

"What? I was interested! I'm just... I've got things. Work, school, mom; I can't just drop everything and go to drinks most nights. I probably told you we'd do it another night, or text me, or something. And if you were so interested how come you never said yes?"

"When?"

"When I asked you out!"

I mentally scratched my head, trying to remember a time when Sandy had asked me out and not coming up with anything. "When did you do that?"

"I must have asked you what you were doing next weekend a dozen times. You'd always say working, or busy, or nothing. Then I asked if you wanted to be doing something and you'd kind of shrug." She shrugged exaggeratedly, obviously trying to mimic me and doing a very unflattering job of it. I chuckled.

"Well, shit," I responded, "I thought you were just being nice."

"I wasn't."

"I didn't think you were interested."

"I was very interested. Am. Am very interested."

More silence while I worked through all that. I'm sure Sandy was doing the same.

"Huh," I finally said, eloquent as always. "I didn't realize."

"Yeah, well it's not all your fault."

"I guess we should have been more direct."

"I'm doing it now. Come to bed with me."

"Okay."

I pulled my foot out of her lap and stood up. Sandy watched me the whole time, her body relaxed but her eyes very awake as she watched me go.

"Help me up?" she asked.

I bent down to slide my hands under her shoulders and she leaned up quickly, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me.

It was nice. It was really nice. It was also really surprising so Sandy ended up doing all of the work, and by the time my brain had caught up with what was happening her lips had already left.

"John?"

"Woah."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You okay with... that?"

I kissed her back. She responded hungrily. Then we broke and she was looking into my eyes with a smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," she said.

"Come to bed with me."

"Okay."

"Sandy?"

"Yeah?"

"Can bed just be... bed, tonight?"

"You don't..."

"I do. Just... this is a lot to take in. We're both tired. Let's take it slow?"

"Okay, yeah. I get it. Just bed."

"Just bed."

We'd both gotten on our feet at some point and she was standing with her body pressed against mine, arms against my chest while mine were wrapped around her. Her face was still inches from mine. I could feel my heart beating against her hand.

"Just bed," she whispered again.

"Just bed," I agreed with a lot less commitment than the first time I'd said it.

She pushed back against my arms and I let her go, slowly.

"You don't wear much to bed, though, you said it yourself, and um," she hooked her thumbs into her pants and gave them a tug, "neither do I."

Her pants landed around her ankles as she turned and almost skipped off to the bedroom. White panties with little red hearts on them. Hates Valentine's Day, does she?

"Get the light?" She asked, then disappeared into the darkness of her bedroom.

I tugged at my belt, tugged at my pants, shoved both down my legs as I stumbled after her. Then I stopped at the doorway, tugging my socks off without a lot of grace, not wanting to cross the threshold until I'd done what she asked. My shirts were next and then I was down to just my boxers, which were doing a very poor job of hiding how badly I didn't want it to just be bed tonight. Those should probably stay on.

"The light?"

"Right, sorry," I said, glancing around for the light switch. Over by the front door. I crossed the room in a few steps, turned it off, then tripped over the couch on my way back with a thud and a curse.

I heard giggling from the bedroom. "Don't hurt yourself."

The lights were off in her bedroom but her blinds were open and the glow of the streetlights outside cast the shape on the bed into muted detail. Sandy was on her back under the covers, blankets pulled up to just below her breasts, her shining red hair spread out around her head on the pillow as she watched me come in. Her eyes trailed down, then up, then down again.

"Just bed?" She asked.

"Just bed," I responded.

She whimpered and rolled over on her side. "You're lucky you're hot."

"Yeah."

"There's room for two if you're willing to be cozy."

I was willing to be cozy. I lifted the covers up and slid in beside her. My hands found her body and I pulled myself against it, feeling more and more of her against my skin as I did so. My bare legs pressed against hers, my arm wrapped around her torso, my lips pushed through her hair to nuzzle against her neck. Sandy whimpered. Then my cock, hard as a rock, pressed up against her ass through two very thin layers of cloth and her whimper evolved into a moan.

I kissed her neck.

"You're not making this easy," she hissed. Then Sandy grabbed my hand and slid it up over her breast. She squeezed my fingers tight around it then let go, sliding her hand back down her body. I groaned as I kneaded her tit, resisting the urge to grind against her.

"Neither are you," I hissed.

"Your idea," she murmured and squirmed against me lazily.

We lay in the dark as my heart, which had been pounding against my ribs ever since she kissed me in the living room, gradually returned to normal. I could hear her breathing quieting and slowing too as the day finished catching up and we began to relax into each other.

"I like this," she murmured after a while, voice sleepy.

"Me too."

"You smell really good."

"So do you."

"I'm sorry I said no."

"I'm sorry I did."

"I'm very interested, John."

"Go to sleep, Sandy."

"I can't," she responded, the quietness of her voice betraying the lie.

I could see the clock over her shoulder: 11:59.

"Happy Valentine's Day," I whispered into her neck.

She made a noise in response.

12:00.

I thought it would take me forever to fall asleep, pressed tight against Sandy's body, feeling her warm skin against mine, doing this thing I'd been dreaming about since not long after we'd rolled our eyes to each other that first day at training while Erik and the others snickered at our names. I didn't, though; I was out before the clock hit 12:01.

I slept hard. I slept the sleep of the exhausted. I slept the sleep of a man who'd gotten up at seven that morning, then pulled a seven hour evening shift on one of the busiest restaurant days of the year. I did not sleep the sleep of a man pressed tight against a woman he had the hots for and who, after a lot of miscommunication, turned out to be very interested. Maybe I'm getting too specific. I slept deep, the kind of sleep you don't remember in the morning.

I don't remember sleeping but I do remember waking up to Sandy's lips. They were on me, and they had been for a while. They were on my neck, then my collarbone, running slowly over my skin and leaving warm tingles in their wake. Her body was on top of mine, comfortable, soft, and warm. Her hands ran over my chest, her fingers tangling in the hair there. I murmured something and felt her moving back up my body, lips leaving a trail of gentle kisses up my sternum, my neck, over my chin, and onto my lips.

"Hey," she whispered, breath mixing with mine.

"Hey," I said back.

"It's morning," she said.

"It's morning," I returned.

"I was good," she said.

"Very," I agreed. I was waking up more and becoming aware of more: the sunlight through my eyelids, sure, but also the soft weight of her breasts pushed into my chest, her legs straddling my hips, the wet heat of her pussy through the fabric of my boxers. My achingly hard cock twitched.

Sandy started to kiss along my jawline. "We did just bed."

"We did."

"We're awake now. We took it slow."

"We did."

She kissed my lips again, less gently this time. "Can it be more than just bed now?"

"Mmmm," I responded, feeling her weight shift on top of me as Sandy sat up on my chest. I felt the smooth, soft skin of her legs and the hot, dripping folds of her pussy...

My eyes drifted open and I saw Sandy on top of me, completely naked. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, framing her smiling face that glowed in the morning sunlight streaming through the window. Her breasts were squeezed together by her arms, round and firm just like last night but this time bare with small pink nipples aimed towards the ceiling. Down by her hip was a small tattoo of a butterfly in ripples of blue and purple. Three. Her pussy was shaved except for a single stripe above and she was rocking her hips, grinding it slowly against my belly, spreading heat and moisture across my skin.

"You're not playing nice," I groaned.

"I played nice for a year. I played nice all night. I played nice until you woke up. If I hadn't been playing nice you'd have woken up with my lips somewhere else." She stopped grinding and leaned forward, her pussy sliding back until it was pressed against my cock which throbbed achingly at the feel of her body. Her mouth drifted back to mine.

"I'm through playing nice," she whispered against my lips before kissing me hungrily.

I kissed her back, biting her lip when she tried to get away. Sandy seemed to like that and came back for more. Then her tongue was running along my lips and I slid mine out to join it. She sucked on my tongue when I tried to get away; I liked that and came back for more. We locked lips until both of us had to come up for air.

"I want to be inside you."

"I want you inside me."

"I need to get my shorts off."

"Hurry."

I did, and a few seconds later Sandy was straddling my hips and rocking her pelvis back and forth, back and forth so her pussy slid along my cock, spreading her heat and moisture all over it.

"You're going to fuck me now."

"Yes ma'am."

"And then you're going to cum in me."

"In...?"

"I'm on the shot. In me. I want to feel it."

Fuck.

"Yes ma'am," I responded again. She was still rocking her hips and I could feel the folds of her pussy slipping along my cock. She was so wet she was dripping. It was exciting. It was exquisite. It was excruciating.

"Fuck, Sandy."

"Gotta slick you up."

"I think I'm slick enough!"

She moaned. "Slow now means fast later."

I groaned back at her and slid my hands up her body to her tits, her fabulous tits, filling each hand with one and squeezing. She made a noise of approval.

"Harder."

I groped harder.

"Harder!"

I dug my fingers in.

"Yes fuck yes!"

Her hips rose up and I felt thin fingers wrapping around my cock, then something very warm, very wet, and very tight slid down over it.

"Holy shit!" I gasped.

"Holy shit is right you are fucking huge!"

"Take it slow."

"No," she hissed and with one hard push sank herself all the way down on my cock.

"Fuck!" I gasped, grabbing at her hips.

"Unph," she agreed, then returned to rocking her hips back and forth, back and forth as she leaned forward, her tits hanging down into my face.

"Suck my tits."

I opened my mouth and took her nipple in, gently.

"More."

I opened wider, taking more of her tit into my mouth as she leaned down further. I sucked.

"Harder."

I sucked harder.

"Harder! Fucking mark me!" She hissed as she started to bounce her hips, my cock starting to slide in and out.

I sucked harder, biting a little, and Sandy grabbed at my head with one hand. "Fuck yes like that. Fuck."

I dropped my head back, though, and Sandy whimpered as I left. I liked her tits but my cock was aching; I needed to thrust, needed to pound into her. I grabbed tight to her hips and lifted her a few inches up my cock before dropping her back down. Her whimpering stopped with a sharp gasp..

"Harder?" I asked, doing it again.

"The fuck do you think?"

I lifted her further, pulling down this time.

"Oh, fuck, John."

I did it again. And again.

"Fuck me, John! Fuck me like you've wanted to! Fuck me!"

I grabbed her hips, held her a little above me, and started to pound up into her. Sandy grabbed at the bed, gasped, and tried to meet my rhythm with each thrust. It was awkward, though, we couldn't seem to get the timing right and half the time she was coming down at the same time I was until I was groaning in frustration. I wanted to fuck her, I needed to pound into her and this wasn't working,

"Roll over," I finally said, slowing my thrusts.

"Why?" she asked cheekily.

"I want to be on top."

"You gonna fuck me?" she asked, meeting my gaze and grinning.

"I thought that's what we were doing?"

"You gonna climb on top of me, pin me to the bed, and fuck me like you want me?"

"I do want you. More than anything. I've wanted you for a year."

"Then show me," she said, sliding off me and rolling over on her back. "Fuck me like you mean it."

I rolled over onto my knees and Sandy slid herself back to the center of the bed, positioning me between her legs. Then she spread her legs wide, swung them up until they were on my shoulders, and grinned at me from between her ankles.

"That's hot," I said.

"My pussy is hotter. Now pin me down and fuck me."

I leaned forward, going further, further, her hips rolling up and her body bending until she was folded in half, the butterfly on her ankle visiting the butterfly on her neck. Then I slid all the way into her until my balls slapped her ass.

"Do it," she moaned.

"Yes, ma'am," I responded, and started to pump my cock into her, not bothering to start slowly, feeling our hips smack together as my body pinned hers to the bed.

Sandy said some very impolite things. I kissed her. I liked the impolite things, but I liked the feel of her lips on mine more. She kissed back, hard. I bit her lip. She sucked mine. Then she grabbed one of my hands, dragged it to her chest and pushed it against her tit. I didn't need to be told twice. I squeezed, hard.

I needed this, needed to push myself as hard and far into her as I could and then do it again, and again, feeling her wet and tight around me while our bodies slapped together with each thrust and the sounds of gasps and grunts and moans filled her small bedroom. Then she was clenching tight around me, her pussy squeezing the goddamn life out of my cock while her hands grabbed my head and pulled me away so she could bite my shoulder and scream into it. I yelped. Her teeth eased up; her screams didn't.