Redemption of an Idiot

Nick was right. This was supposed to be a date, yet for the past thirty minutes, she'd essentially been on her own. And why? Because I'm an idiot.

I reasoned that I could admire her tall, shapely form better from where I stood, and I could watch people fall under her spell when she laughed. She wasn't the most glamorous woman in the room, but she drew people to her like moths to a flame. And when I was next to her, I ached for her. I wanted to hold her, kiss her, touch her...I wanted to take her to my bed and hear her whimper, and moan, and beg as I pleasured her...

Yeah, I was a fucking idiot.

I drained my beer and set the empty bottle on a nearby table. "Mind if I show her the view from the upstairs balcony?" I asked, barely hearing Nick's encouraging response as I headed across the room. When I got there, Martie had just managed to extricate Elena from the conversation with my boss, and they appeared to be moving towards the bar. I intercepted them and was rewarded with the kind of smile that made me go weak in the knees.

"Hey..." Elena slid her arm around my waist to give me a little hug.

I pressed a kiss to her temple, "Hey yourself. Having fun?"

"Yeah... we were just headed to get Martie a refill on her drink." She looked over her shoulder for the woman in question, but she had disappeared. "Huh, she was right here..."

Martie was a true pal, no doubt about it.

"Feel like some fresh air?" I asked, taking her hand in mine.

She met my gaze and smiled -- a small, intimate smile that made my heart race. "Sure. It is a little stuffy in here..."

When I helped Nick move into the house three years ago, I thought he was crazy. He was single but just spent an insane amount of money to buy a 4,000+ square foot house in an established, highly sought-after neighborhood near White Rock Lake. But I guess it was all part of the master plan, because now he had a wife, and the two of them had plans to fill the house with kids. Until that time, however, it was a perfect place for entertaining, and I'd been there dozens of times over the years. That's how I knew about the second-floor balcony, and about the flight of stairs off the kitchen that would take us up there, undetected.

"I thought we were going outside..." she commented as I began to ascend the stairs, her hand still in mine.

"Trust me..." I replied, and she did.

Once upstairs, we walked down a short hallway that spilled into a casual living area, with French doors in the wall beyond. The party was contained downstairs, so for a few blessed moments at least, we were alone.

In the daytime, the view from the balcony was cathartic. It looked down over a wooded ravine with a creek running through the bottom. Here, the neighbors' homes were not right on top of each other, and the trees helped mute the sounds of the city, giving the illusion of solitude, peace, privacy.

At night, there was not much to see, except the strands of Christmas lights that winked through the trees from across the way, but it still impressed Elena.

She breathed deeply and leaned into my side, "It's beautiful here..."

It was a fairly temperate night for mid-December, but her arms were bare, and I could feel the gooseflesh already popping up when I put my arm around her. "Yeah..." I agreed, wondering how long she would last out here.

"And I love your friends," she added. "You've surrounded yourself with good people, it seems..."

I grinned, "I think you're telling me I have good taste."

She laughed at that and turned her head towards me, "Well, that goes without saying. You're with me, after all..."

"True..." Yes, I was with her, and part of me thrilled to hear her say it, however jokingly it was delivered. I was glad all the 'friends' bullshit was behind us. Not that we weren't friends, but there was certainly more to it than that.

Sipping wine from the glass she'd carried upstairs with her, she was quiet for a moment, gazing out into the night. Then she surprised me by asking, "So, who's Petra?"

Wondering who the hell had mentioned her name, I stumbled a little over the words. "Ah... she's an old girlfriend, I guess..."

"Oh..." She paused, then probed, "You guess?"

I stopped breathing, I think, stressing about how to explain Petra without sounding like a dick. "It was casual -- on again, off again, you know?"

Okay, that sounded pretty dick-ish, but it was honestly how I'd viewed us. "How did you hear about her?"

She shrugged, "Someone mentioned her name in passing..."

That was the sanitized version, no doubt. "Ah, well, I hope they said, 'Thank God John came to his senses and starting dating someone like you, instead of Petra!'"

"Something like that..." she smiled, resting her head against my jaw. "Was she that terrible?"

"No..." I replied truthfully. "She was just the wrong person for me. A bit high maintenance, and always needed to be at a party, or a club, or some other social event. I guess I finally realized that I want something different in a relationship..."

Elena nodded, and wrapped one arm around my waist in what I interpreted to be a gesture of support. I hoped beyond hope that she would not ask, 'Like what?' and she did not. Instead, she teased, "Like a single-mom who's a bit of a control freak?"

I chuckled, "Exactly. But she's also got a good heart, a killer smile, and a great ass!" I punctuated that last comment with a little pop to her right butt cheek and she gasped.

"I'm not sure if should feel flattered or offended on behalf of all woman-kind!" she teased, setting her now empty wine glass on the small patio table next to her. "But I am going to go with flattered because it's more empowering. And..." she sidled up close to me, her eyes mischievous, "I'm going to say that you, too, have a great ass!" and she popped me back.

There she was, in my arms, fire in her eyes, all but asking me to kiss her. I grinned, "Nick says you're way too good for me..."

"He's wrong," she assured me, curling one arm behind my neck as she pressed her body close and brushed her lips against mine.

Nick was rarely wrong, but I wasn't about to debate the point as her light, tempting kiss turned into more. The taste of her was intoxicating, and my arms tightened around her, reveling in the feel of her soft curves against me.

This was the reason I'd brought her up here, and I think she knew it. Either she didn't care, or her agenda had been the same. Our kisses became heated -- ravenous even, and I gave up trying to behave. One hand made its way down to the ass I admired so much, and I lifted her against me, encouraging her to wrap one leg around my hip as I pinned her against the balcony railing.

It was a somewhat precarious position, but with my aching hard on pressed snugly between her legs, she didn't seem to mind. One of my arms was anchored securely about her waist, so she wasn't going anywhere I didn't want her to.

She broke away for air, letting her head drop back to allow me access to her neck, "God, you're good at this!" she groaned, as I sucked the tender flesh of her throat between my teeth, my free hand palming her breast.

Soothing her tortured skin with the flat of my tongue, I trailed my way up to her ear, "I want you to come home with me," I murmured, nibbling on her earlobe as my thumb stroked over her hardened nipple.

Her voice was breathless, "Do you think it's too early to leave?"

I expected to have to do a little more persuading. "No..." was my automatic response as I squeezed the softness of her breast and tweaked the tip gently, causing her to inhale sharply.

"You don't think Nick and Martie would be offended?" her voice sounded slightly strangled.

"Not at all, trust me," I assured her. Truth was, they'd probably be more upset if I followed my baser instincts and fucked her right there on the balcony. And I wanted to, believe me -- I just didn't think she'd be okay with that.

It was all I could do to not drag her downstairs and immediately out to my car. Instead, after a few more very necessary kisses, we made our way back to the party at a reasonable pace and set about saying our farewells. We used some lame excuse about needing to get back to the boys, but we weren't fooling our hosts. When Martie hugged me goodbye, she muttered, "Do not screw this up, okay? I like her!"

Nick's advice was equally sage. "She's a good person, John. Try not to be an asshole..."

It was so great to have the love and support of friends who knew me so well!

*****

The twenty-minute drive back to my apartment felt like it took forever. I reminded myself several times along the way that just because she had agreed to come home with me, it did not necessarily mean we were going to have sex. I mean, we almost certainly would, but maybe not.

It was probably a bad idea. Probably way too soon. It didn't feel like it was too soon, though. In fact, every time we kissed, things got really hot, really fast. Even earlier that week, after I'd made her cry, and after she fed me lasagna, we lay together on her couch and talked and kissed until Dominic texted to say he was on his way home. I hadn't touched her then -- did not want to press my luck -- but the kisses were nothing short of incendiary.

Elena, thankfully, talked on the car ride so that I didn't endless dwell on what was about to happen -- or not happen. As we pulled into the parking lot outside my building, Elena's phone pinged and she pulled it from her handbag. "Dominic, checking in to see how it's going," she reported.

Teasing, I suggested, "Tell him I'm about to take you upstairs and ravish you..."

She grinned, and raised an eyebrow, "Really? Am I about to be ravished?"

"Just say the word..."

As she typed a response, she quipped, "As tempting as that sounds, I'm thinking I need to tell Dominic something less likely to give him a coronary. How about, 'Having a great time, be home by 2am'? That sound good?"

That would give us two hours together. We could do some damage in two hours.

In all my years, I had never dated a mother before. Never even considered it. I guess I figured that I had enough baggage of my own that I didn't need to saddle myself with anyone else's -- their kid, their ex, or whatever. Or maybe I just didn't want to date someone who would always put at least one other person in their life before me.

In retrospect, it was pretty damn selfish. Since Jamie came to live with me, it was like a huge spotlight had been shone into my life, and I could suddenly see how self-centered I'd been all these years. No wonder I'd never found someone to spend my life with -- who could bear to be with me that long?

And now, here I was with a woman I liked more than anyone else I'd ever dated. Elena. A mother. How ironic that the characteristics I liked most about her are ones I probably never would have seen if she hadn't been a mother. Or perhaps she would never have developed them -- it was hard to say.

"Do you want a glass of wine?" I asked as I helped her off with her coat, thinking it seemed like an easy way to segue into what might happen next.

"No, I'm good..." she replied, kicking off her shoes and groaning when her feet were finally flat once again. "Oh geez..."

"Not the most comfortable?" I guessed, shedding my blazer and tossing it over the back of an armchair alongside her coat.

She grimaced, "No..."

"Well, at the risk of sounding like an insensitive pig, let me just say that they looked fucking hot!"

Laughing, she allowed me to pull her into my arms, "Hot, huh? Guess what you're getting for Christmas!"

"You couldn't find a pair in my size..." I challenged, liking the way she took her time sliding her hands up my arms.

"Oh, I'll just shop where the drag queens do..." she grinned. "In a city the size of Dallas, there are bound to be some stores that cater to the cross-dressing male..."

"I am not sure my legs could do shoes like that justice," I countered, leaning down to press a kiss in the hollow just below the ear.

Her breath caught a moment before she managed to say, "I would be happy to wax them for you..."

I cringed at the thought, "Ow! Really?"

"No, not really," she shook her head. "I don't think I could inflict that much pain on another person..."

"Whew!"

"Besides, I'm kind of a fan of hairy legs..." she admitted, stroking the faint stubble on my cheek.

"Well, we're good then, because I've got that covered..." I smiled, settling her even closer to me. We touched from chest to thigh, and she slid her arms around my neck, increasing the pressure on her soft, tempting breasts.

She sighed, "I like the way you hold me, John..."

For some reason, it struck me as a vulnerable statement, and my heart contracted. "And I like the way you feel in my arms," I responded, my fingers digging into her waist slightly.

Her lips brushed against mine and she murmured, "I think you'd better hurry up and ravish me before I chicken out..."

I choked back a laugh, "Really, now?"

"Yes..." she kissed me again, harder this time, and I got the message.

I knew Elena had had plenty to drink throughout the evening, but she was by no means drunk. I was not taking advantage of the situation, but merely striking while the iron was hot as I took her hand and led her down the hall to my bedroom. Eight months ago, I'd have been happy to "ravish" her right there in the living room, but there was always the slightest chance that Jamie would come home unexpectedly, and I wasn't going to risk it.

Elena seemed to understand that, because she closed and locked the door behind her. I had conveniently left my dresser lamp on earlier that evening, and it provided just enough light.

As I pulled her close once more, she said, "You should know that I don't do this a lot..."

"I figured..."

"And I probably wouldn't be doing this now if you didn't kiss the way you do..."

I grinned, "So it's all about technique, huh?"

She shook her head and stroked the side of my neck, "Not exactly -- I'd say it's more about sincerity..."

Did I kiss her any differently than I had any other woman? Maybe. I definitely felt more for her, and maybe she could sense that when I laid my lips on hers. I nodded, "Yeah..." and then kissed her as sincerely as I knew how.

We didn't talk for a long while. Our mouths were busy, and I was working on releasing the tiny little buttons on her blouse. It took much longer than I wanted, but when at last I was able to slide that pretty lace garment off her shoulders, it was all worth it.

Her ivory skin was flawless -- smooth and silky beneath my fingers as I glided a thumb across her collarbone to hook beneath her bra strap and slide if off her shoulder. My lips followed, and she tilted her head back and sighed in pleasure. A shiver ran through her a moment later when I sank my teeth gently into the muscle at the base of her neck, and I could feel her beaded nipples as she pressed her chest against mine. "John..." she murmured, almost wistfully.

I loved hearing my name on her lips, and there was something in the way she said it in this moment that made me want to deserve her, deserve this.

Our next moments were focused on ridding each other of most of our clothes, as we teased and stroked along the way. And although I realized it had been quite some time since she'd indulged in something like this, she was no shy miss. No, she wanted, just as much as I did, and was not afraid to go after it.

"I like your 'six pack'," she grinned, as she slid one hand over my hard stomach, on her way to my belt buckle.

I managed to choke out a grunt of amusement at the joke, but all the blood had rushed from my head to points south when I realized she was about to undo my pants. Her eyes met mine and held as she released the button, lowered the fly, and reached her hand inside to cup me through my briefs.

Swallowing hard, my eyes drifted shut when she squeezed my balls, and she crooned, "Ah, honey, that feels nice..."

That was supposed to be my line. But before I could find any words, she'd tucked the fingers of both hands into the waistbands of both my pants and underwear and began working them lower -- carefully, at first, until she'd cleared the hurdle of my erection, then swiftly all the way to the floor.

It would have been one thing if she had stayed there in the circle of my arms as she disrobed me, but quite another to find her on her knees in front of me, lifting my feet to slide the clothes all the way off. And then, she didn't rise to join me. Instead, she slid her hands up my legs slowly, her fingers exploring the dips and bulges of muscle along the way, until at last they wrapped around my aching cock.

"Wow..." she whispered, glancing up at me, and I almost lost it. Elena Giordano Russo was not supposed to be on her knees before me. And she definitely wasn't supposed to use her sweet little tongue to lick the underside of my rod or open her mouth to take me deep inside.

No, she was supposed to let me make slow, sweet love to her -- to treat her like the lady I knew her to be. But now, as she bobbed her head back and forth, my cock hitting the back of her throat with each stroke and her fingers expertly stroking the length of me that she couldn't take in, I knew I was going to have to fuck her.

But, dear God, I did not want her to stop sucking me. My fingers tangled in her hair as I fought the urge to thrust into her mouth. I didn't want to hurt her, and as good as she was at this, I was pretty damn sure she wouldn't want that.

As amazing as it felt, I knew I wouldn't be able to take much more, so it was a relief when her mouth popped off me and she pressed a kiss to the underside once again. But instead of standing, she lowered her head and sucked one of my balls into her mouth.

I had, thus far, managed to keep all sound locked away in the back of my throat. But when she did that, and swirled her wayward tongue around the orb, I emitted a guttural groan. When she moved her mouth to the other testicle, simultaneously stroking the length of my cock and thumbing the sensitive head, I'd reached my limit.

Dragging her up to her feet, I kissed her hard, and murmured, "Sweetheart, you are a bad girl..."

Her eyes were alive, excited, as she laughed, and I bore her off to bed. She was still clad in her bra and panties, but I made short work of those and drew her tightly against me. Skin to skin, at last.

Before I could kiss her, she took my face in her hands and said, "You're a beautiful man, John..."

I'd never been called beautiful before, and it stopped me. Stopped me in my quest to immediately bury myself inside her and fuck the living shit out of her. No, this was more than a quick fuck, and I had to remember that.

The kiss that I had planned to be ruthless and demanding, ended up being much gentler as I shifted my weight off her and glided my hand down her side to her hip. As I explored her naked body for the first time, I was impressed by the contrast between firm muscle, supple softness and slick, silk heat.

I loved her breasts -- very soft and round -- a tempting handful with exquisitely tight rose nipples that begged to be licked. She stopped breathing when I took one into my mouth, teased it with my tongue and scraped it with my teeth. She shifted then, opening her legs over my thigh, and settling her core against me. When I sucked, she arched against me, a moan escaping her throat, so I kept on pleasuring her, thrilled that she liked breast play as much as I did.

When I'd pleasured both breasts to the point that my thigh was as wet as her pussy, I squeezed them both together and worried the tips with my thumbs. "You have some sexy-ass tits, Elena..."

Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes bright, and her laugh was short. She didn't say anything, but I could see her swallow hard as I adjusted our positions to slide one arm beneath her neck, and my free hand glided south over her stomach. "God, you're lovely..." I murmured against her hair as one finger slid into the warm, soft slit and stroked.