Not My Valentine's Date

"But really, those earrings are recognizable from the story. From where I sat, they looked like someone had spray-painted cockroaches that were biting her earlobe."

His smile continued to grow. "I never had the guts to tell her how horrible they looked."

She pinched her own earlobe and winced. "I never understood why people are okay with those things, never been okay with blood."

Their waiter appeared from the din of the restaurant, having lost the apparent stuffiness he'd displayed before, cradling a bottle of wine which he had uncorked before the pair understood what was happening and began pouring a couple glasses. "Congratulations, sir, madam," he said. "Compliments of the house."

In unison, both looked down at the ring still sitting in the middle of the table and to one another.

"Ah, no-" Nicholas started weakly.

The man brought a genteel finger to his lips. "I understand, sir. Please don't be worried, it is not our custom to come out of the kitchen singing, making a spectacle of our customers. Your meal should be ready presently." He turned sharply on his heel and slipped back into the background.

"Well," Theresa took one glass and sipped, "a bit sweet, I think."

"Sorry about that."

She waved away the thought. "It's their own fault. But this is the day for it, so they must have been primed and ready."

Like clockwork, Nicholas looked across the room where there were significantly more shining sparkles on the fingers of the female guests.

"All of the sudden, I'm feeling corny."

Theresa tipped up her glass and drained the ruby liquid within, bringing it down with a new crimson stain to her lip. "Geh, sticky in the throat." She took her arm from beneath his blazer and coughed into the sleeve of her cardigan, leaving a faint red mark.

When all was said and done and the two of them had considered dessert but denied themselves, the waiter came by with the bill and Nicholas had barely touched it when Theresa grabbed the other side.

"Split bills, please," she said to the thoroughly confused waiter, who looked to the 'husband' for confirmation.

"I'm happy to make it my treat, you know?"

She pulled out her wallet and began slipping her card in with the receipt. "I wouldn't feel great having you pay for my share..." She set eyes on the amount and faltered, forcing a shaking hand to push the card into the fold.

"Well, if you're that sure," Nicholas said, trying to beat down a smile as he added his card before handing it back to the befuddled waiter.

--

Despite her less-than-glowing review, she had ended up taking the other glass at some point during the meal, as Nicholas wasn't much for alcohol in the first place and had to drive afterward. For only two glasses of wine, she was already looking like she'd had enough for the night, with her cheeks reddening and a mild, dozy tilt to her head.

He'd gotten her into the car and turned up the heat, as she'd drawn his blazer even closer about herself.

"Theresa, don't nod off, I need you to tell me where you live."

Though she remained as reclined as the car seat would allow, with her head bobbing against its rest, she did guide him onto the freeway and out all the way to the town nearby. For how dark it already was when she was done with her work earlier, he was glad that she wasn't having to make the journey on her own, with those dark circles under her eyes. The thought of her lying in a ditch until she was found in the morning gave him a shock to the heart, no matter how unlikely it really was, how often she had to make that trip on her own any other normal day.

She lived in a house, on a street which was just barely wide enough for two cars if the drivers really liked one-another, but thankfully had a parking space to the side of the driveway proper, in a car-shaped patch of long-dead grass.

Coming to a stop, Nicholas had to come over to her side and gently nudge her shoulder to rouse her. Theresa held his arm as they walked to the front door, where an older woman was waiting on the porch with her knitting.

"I was worried for nothing, it seems," the woman said.

Theresa rubbed weariness from her eyes. "Sorry, missus Bennett. I ended up going to dinner with a coworker."

This miss Bennett looked them over, with an experienced acknowledgement of certain facts now in evidence. "Yes, a 'coworker'. Whatever you say, dear. There are leftovers in the fridge if you kids get peckish later, either way."

She disappeared into the house to 'let them get to it' as she said and Theresa stood frozen in place, tapping her foot.

"My landlord," she explained.

"I figured." He didn't look down to her, the embarrassment was contagious enough as it was.

"Um, thank you for tonight," she whispered. "I know I wasn't supposed to be part of it, but I hope you're feeling better soon."

Nicholas sighed, put his arm across her thin shoulders; perhaps a little too forward for friends of only a few hours now, but she didn't protest. "I think I should be thanking you instead. I was worrying about how I would sleep tonight, things didn't seem like they would move forward from this point. But you won't hold it against me if I feel sorry for myself a little longer?"

"No, of course not," she said, turning and stepping to his front, put her forehead on his chest.

"So, um," he said, hoping she couldn't hear his heart skip a beat, "I'll be back in the morning to pick you up, so... what time do you usually leave for work?"

He could hear her breathing beneath cricket-song, felt her fingers curling up around a fold in his shirt. "It's pretty late," Theresa eventually said. "Are you sure you don't want to spend the night." She choked on the unfamiliar words, having to psyche herself up before she tipped her pretty chin up and met his gaze. "If you want to... you don't have to go home tonight..."

"I-" He didn't know what to say. She seemed fragile in his arms, tender and warm. Everything else put aside, he would have to admit it was affecting him. "I wouldn't want to put you out... make trouble with your landlady..."

"I live in their basement, and the husband is deaf..." A small amount of irritation was crossing a dozy expression; his blazer fell to the patio as she lifted her hands to his cheeks and guided him down, pressed her wine-stained lips to his. Theresa put her whole into the embrace, moving her lips against his, parting them with hot breath streaming between them, flitting her tongue out when she could work up the nerve. And when they parted, neither one could say a thing until the cricket-speckled silence became uncomfortable by itself. "It really is okay, tonight... come inside..."

He allowed himself to be pulled inside, through someone's grandma's kitchen and down the stairs into a basement studio apartment generously carpeted with thick rugs, the walls decorated with old movie posters. Over on one side, Theresa had built herself the approximation of a kitchen with a convection stovetop, a mini fridge, and a jungle-gym's worth of wire-frame shelving; on the other side, a bed that looked ready and willing to swallow the short woman up the instant she broke down and stepped a single toe onto it, a few fleeces still wadded up from leaving its confines that morning. Then, over in the corner, an overstuffed couch staring directly into a wide-screen television, and a computer desk beside it teeming with folders. It was her own space, but she stood by Nicholas' side as if she was waiting for his cue.

"Well, that's a king-sized bed, isn't it?" he said to break the subterranean silence.

"I like it," Theresa said, kicking her shoes into a corner of the stairwell along with similarly discarded boots and pumps. "I can sleep right in the middle and no matter how much I move while I sleep, there's almost no way I can fall out."

"Does that happen a lot?"

"Never, but you know how people have weird fears." Her cardigan came off and she tossed it into a basket, hiding a flash of something delicate and pink. Her slender figure beneath the thin dress shirt... Nicholas caught himself watching for the soft swells and wrinkles of the white fabric as it caressed her skin. "Do you... want something more to drink?"

Nicholas cleared his throat. "I suppose, since I'm not going to be driving home... If you have another pillow, I'll be fine sleeping on the couch."

She frowned, but didn't say a thing as he sat himself down on the couch in question and she returned with a couple cans of beer. She sat right beside him, turned on the television and left it where the channel landed: an action movie already in progress, a chase without context and thus without interest to either of those watching to avoid looking at one another. It wasn't until she'd tipped one can upside-down and drained it in a sustained gulp, then gone and returned with another, that she spoke.

"I didn't-" She paused to gather her nerves and crack open her next drink. "I didn't want you to sleep on the couch... but you knew that, right?"

He nodded.

Theresa drew closer, onto her knees on the couch cushion and leaned over his shoulder. He could smell it on her breath as she whispered, "I'm not too drunk... it's really what I want... If it will help at all, you can touch me..."

Nicholas took a measured breath. His chest ached, something primally male inside him responding in a way he wasn't sure how long he could continue to ignore. "That isn't why I took you out, so you know."

"I know," she said. She snapped open the first three buttons of her shirt and took Nicholas' hand, guided it beneath the fabric to cup one small, tender breast over her cottony bra. Her heart was racing, she burned like fire at his touch. Taking one look, messy hair in her face, a thin lip nibbled, bright eyes stared into his through her bangs; right now, they both knew damn well they were pushing a boulder down the cusp of a steep hill and neither one cared anymore. "Just for tonight, will I do?"

He slipped his hand across her skin, up along the graceful curve of her neck, and cupped her feverishly hot cheek. Wordlessly, he drew her to him, pressed his lips against hers. Theresa seemed to melt against him, gripping at his shirt so that she wouldn't fall into a puddle in his lap, moaning and murmuring as their kiss became more urgent, more necessary to them both. One of his hands slipped down to her waist, pressed the small of her back because letting her come away in the middle of it all had to be avoided.

Theresa had closed her eyes, searching for something invisible as she moved her lips, allowed her tongue to come out when the passion was too much and she simply had to be closer. She stepped into his space on her knees, sitting herself on his thigh without once breaking contact. Her soft lips lingered on his as if this could be all that happened tonight and she wouldn't regret a thing, but she'd already begun popping one button after another from his shirt, inching closer to their destination. When they did part with a sigh, she seemed hungry; her chest rose and fell with deep sighs and he found that he couldn't take his eyes off the little bit that could be seen through the small opening already made in her shirt.

Under her work clothes, she'd been wearing a grey sports bra, and Nicholas felt if he asked her why, she'd say, 'it's more comfortable'. But she'd finished her work and his chest had been bared to the cool basement air, his shirt even having been tugged out of his pants, and Theresa spread her long, thin fingers on his skin, as hopelessly entranced by now as he was.

"You're really firm," she said as she drew her fingertips across his chest, slipping them over his shoulders and nudging his sleeves off entirely. They left the shirt on the couch. "Can I take your pants off?"

Nicholas hugged her to his naked chest, taking hold of the back of her shirt and tugging it out of her jeans. "We're not equal yet, are we?" he said. "I want to see you too."

She nodded against his shoulder and pulled back, still sitting in his lap, she ran her fingers down the hem, loosing buttons as she went, until she at last shrugged her shirt off to the floor behind.

"Let me," he said, laying his hands on her hips, he traced all the way up her thin body, fingers dipping beneath the band of her bra, momentarily holding her two warm, soft mounds before bringing the elastic fabric further up and over her head, helped as she raised her arms to slip it off. Not massive, no, but even though she fidgeted as he looked, he felt he had to burn this sight into his memory. Smooth, pale skin, goosebumps spreading in the cool air, topped with taut, pink nipples; he bent to lay a kiss on one, tugging Theresa even closer by the waist. She wrapped her arms about his head, stroking his hair, trying to stop herself moaning when his kisses approached her breast, he sipped one nipple between his lips and circled it with the tip of his tongue.

Did she know her hips were squirming against his leg as he teased her? Did she know that he could feel her growing warmer against him there? Or was she so engaged squeaking beside his ear that she couldn't tell how her own body was reacting to his touch? To elicit something sharper, he briefly nibbled, softly, and earned a nice yelp.

Then she pulled herself off, leaving a slippery mark on her breast, and her hands went to his belt. Theresa swallowed, the muted television and his belt buckle's clinking were the only sounds in the room for a few seconds before she was able to pull it free and hook her fingers into his waistband. With his help shimmying, she managed to get them off his hips and down past his ankles, kneeling on the floor before him, between his legs, when his boxers came into view.

"Blue," she said, biting off a giggle fit. "I could have called it~"

Nicholas joined her on the floor, slipped a hand around her waist and into her pants, took a handful of firm butt for himself. "My turn." He felt the band of her panties, snapping undone the button and unzipping her jeans before sliding them off her slender hips. She was too close to really see and he needed her cooperation to get them down over her knees and off entirely.

Black boyshorts. Amazing.

Theresa fidgeted as she felt his eyes drinking in the sight before him, a lovely, if stringy, young woman in nothing but practical underwear and crew socks. "Sorry it isn't anything sexier," she said.

He came forward on his knees, wrapping one arm around her waist, and tipped her chin up into a brief kiss that nonetheless left her cloudy-eyed. "At this point, how much do you think that matters to me?"

She looked away. "I do own some sexy underwear... if you want to see."

"No," he said, surging forward and scooping her up in his arms to her utter surprise. A little bony, but so warm, her touch was so inviting even though she squirmed mildly in his grasp. He went to the side of the bed, set her in its middle, so very large around its owner that she seemed to be floating on a cloud of white sheets and fleece.

She didn't protest as he joined her, knelt at her feet and drew her panties down off her hips, across her thighs, her calves, and at last past her socked feet, discarded and forgotten. Theresa had covered her chest with one arm, a blush spreading from her breast all across her pale, freckled skin, and her other hand had come between her thighs, covering the prize. Her knees rose, legs forming an M on the bedspread like a hole in the world that Nicholas was being begged to fill. Slowly, she removed her hand, letting him see her plump, smooth mound.

"Wait one sec-" he began getting up to retrieve something, but she lunged for his wrist and kept him right where he was. "I need something from my coat, I'll be back."

Theresa shook her head and produced a palmed plastic square. "I found them," she said simply, tearing the wrapper open and placing the condom in Nicholas' hand. "I don't know if I can go five whole times..."

He just had to laugh, tempering himself so that he wouldn't wake anyone upstairs. His boxers came off next, a throbbing erection emerging that Theresa couldn't keep her eyes off, sipping back a shining speckle of drool. He said, "You know, I'm not that much of a monster, I just shoved some into my pocket without thinking." While she watched, he unrolled the condom over his cock, sheathing it in a film of pinkish rubber, and he took his place between her legs. "Last chance, you're sure you want this?"

Theresa scowled and lifted her hips up, bringing her pussy into striking distance. "How clear do I have to be?" she asked with a small voice. "Fuck. Me."

"As you wish." He took her waist in hand, supporting the position, pressed his head against her hot slit, felt in rubbing up and down it how slippery she already was. He hadn't even pushed inside and she was already biting her bottom lip, breathing small moans; when he did push in by inches, she gasped, unable to hold back her voice.

Over some time, he worked himself in and out as the heat within her flared and her tightness relaxed, building naturally to a decent pace. Theresa panted beneath him through a nibbled lip, her hips twisting to meet his, her toes clenching the sheets behind him. Her slender belly and perky breasts rolled with breath, eventually with the impact of his hips as their lovemaking became more intense of its own volition. She seemed almost fragile in his hands in a way none of his other lovers ever had, and he worried that she might hate any motion, but the way she moaned approval while rubbing the back of her head into the bedding drove him to continue.

It wasn't enough, not enough just for the two of them to come together and climax. Nicholas bent and brought his arms around her then came back up, hugging her to his chest with her sitting in his lap, her cute, blushing face inches from his. Small, firm breasts pressed to his chest, he could feel the way her heart raced; he could feel the hot puff of breath on his neck as she placed her chin on his shoulder. As she sat there, with his cock waiting within her, she slipped her arms between them, sliding her hands up to cradle his face, and she kissed him.

Without warning, she threw her weight against him and bowled him onto his back, starting to roll her hips against him while never allowing him to pull away from her lips. Against his cheeks he felt her breath grow quicker and more shallow as she humped back into his lap, taking him deeply inside with the heat of friction and the intensity of her movements pushing them along the line toward the inevitable. Her tongue lazily lapped at his as her attention was strained and she could only bear to throw herself wildly into every single thing she was doing.

Her crazy heartbeat, her pounding hips, her lazy and proudly unskilled lips. She was coming at orgasm from the other side, it was obvious. Nicholas stroked his fingers through her hair, pulling her more deeply into their kiss, and he slid his other hand down to cup her ass, guiding the strokes of her hips, and he began thrusting from below.

He pushed them upright, knowing already that they were on the final stretch, skin slapping against skin, lips smacking, and a mild squishing in the air as restraint was forgotten and all that was left behind was the pursuit of pleasure.

Theresa broke from their kiss, moaning and twitching as it came on. Her eyes rolled back but she clasped to Nicholas, riding his cock as her pussy wildly pulsated with wave after wave of ecstasy welling up from deep within. She wasn't alone, Nicholas squeezed her ass instinctively, driving his cock as deep as it could go, thrusting like a wild stallion trying to buck her off, bursting with cum that splashed inside the condom. But then, when it had run its course, both of them refused to let the other go, falling to the side in a sweaty, soused heap.