The Proposal Ch. 04

"So…come here often?"

"As often as they let me in." She turned, putting her back face to face with the young paramour, and inches between them.

"Want to come here again tomorrow?"

"I take it this is the part where you ask me to come with you, huh?"

"Yeah, basically."

"I'm here now."

"Listen…" He put his hands on her hips, pulling her close. "We could just skip it all. You're damn hot, and you know it. You look hot in this dress, and those heels are out of control. So how about we go back to my place just up the road from here, I've got music, booze, and I'll rock your world."

"What's the longest you've ever eaten a girls pussy?"

"Huh?"

"You muff dive, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah! Of course I do!" He was unsettled, and she could see it. But he caught himself fast, pulling her closer. "Is that what it takes?"

"A lot of it. If you want to get between these legs."

"Thirty minutes."

She threw her head back, laughing out loud.

He saw her laugh, his hand tightening on the bottle. Rick saw it, too, and looked over at the man that he considered his boss and friend. Looking over at Jessica, she gave him a subtle no sign, and he looked back out to the floor.

"You've never eaten anybody out for thirty minutes."

"Never been with anybody as hot as you."

"You're girlfriend would not be happy to hear that."

"What makes you say I have one?"

"Educated guess." She was sliding in his arms now, side to side, moving away from him again, something he was fighting by pulling against her. But the song stopped, creating a natural pause in their movement, which she used to put space between them. She had seen Jonathan out of the corner of her eye, and she had to go.

"Listen, Jack, you seem like a really nice guy. If you want, I can introduce you to a friend of mine over there. But you have nothing to offer me. Thanks for the dance, and enjoy the drink." She shoved the cup back into his hand, gave him a million watt smile, and almost ran over to her daddy.

Jonathan saw her coming, but she was way faster through the crowd then he figured she could be in heels and the red and black dress, so suddenly she was there, jumping into his arms, her tits mashing into him.

"Daddy!" Kissing him all over, she sucked his tongue, tapping his lips with her stud. It tickled, and he tried to pull back, but she was having none of that. "What took you so long?"

"I've been over here watching you."

"Like the show?"

"Not really." The tone of his voice told her everything, so she backed off for a second, looking into his eyes. The second she did, he felt bad. He knew she meant no harm, and her enthusiasm was infectious.

"Come on, I want to do something for you." Grabbing his hand, she dragged him from the room.

The hallway was a massive, two story affair, painted in green for reasons that only the owners understood, with various arcade games sprinkled throughout, two bathrooms for either sex, and entrances to the three bars. They turned right out of the Tikki Torch, and headed down the hall towards the Jukebox, sliding inside. She pushed him into a chair, kissed him on the forehead, then disappeared.

He looked around, but then she was back, putting another beer before him, and was gone again. He wanted to ask what was going on, but she did not wait, so he looked up at the stage instead. Jukebox's gimmick was Karaoke, and at the moment a very drunk man was doing his rendition of Elvis Presley's Ghetto. Horrid.

Leaning back into his seat, he waited, having a rough idea of what was to come. Elvis got done, and almost fell of the stage into the arms of his screaming and applauding friends. The lights dimmed a bit, then a single large spotlight hit a spot in the center of the stage.

She walked on, and from where he sat, the light on her did nothing but amplify her beauty. She was breathtaking to him, and he watched every ripple of her muscle, the soft shake of her hips, the strut in her legs as she walked to the mike. The music started and he did not recognize it, but he knew her voice when she started to sing.

While Amber had many talents, singing was not necessarily amongst them. But he got the message, knew she was signing for him, knew that she was looking right at him, knew that she meant the words of the song, was trying to tell him through the song. Something got in his eye, and he blinked it away, listening to everybody around him clap. She was back at his side, and he pulled her close, kissing her hard and fast. She clamped onto him, their lips locked, tongues dancing, until they were out of breath.

"I love you Jonathan."

"I know. God, I know. I love you, too."

They walked back over to Tikki hand in hand, a smile on both their faces. She didn't have to ask, they just walked onto the dance floor, and she went crazy. His only role was to face in the general direction she was in, and let her do whatever it was she wanted to. It was more a show for him then anything else, and he greatly enjoyed it. But even so, the movement that was involved wore him out, so he excused himself after several songs to go get a new beer, having abandoned his previous two each time before he could even drink half.

She stayed on the dance floor, not wanting to waste the energy she felt after her little rendition of "Underneath your clothes." She had figured that he would not know the song, but that helped, since it meant he would listen to the words to hear what they were, his analytical mind not allowing anything else, and would hear the message. It was almost too easy sometimes, and she loved it!

She was so caught up in it that she did not realize that Jack had approached her again, until he was right there, dancing with her.

"Hello again. Want to meet my friend?"

"Naah, I want to talk to you."

"I'm not buying what you're selling." She turned around, moving away, but he came around, and was in front again.

"Hold on, hold on. Come on little firecracker, give me a chance. I saw the guy you are with, what's he got that I don't?"

"Big dick, hurricane tongue, and a BMW 745."

"This about money?"

"No, the tongue is more important."

He took another step closer, putting his hands back on her waist, and moving with her. He could easily keep up with her on the dance floor, and she smiled up at him, giving encouragement and hope to boy who was drawing the wrong conclusions from her movements.

"Seriously…give me thirty minutes, and I'll take you places he can't dream of matching."

"I give you ten seconds to get the fuck away from me." She turned again, but he grabbed her wrist to stop her.

She saw Jonathan coming towards her, saw Rick behind him, rising and flexing to his full height. And she knew that she could have just twisted her wrist and he would have let go. Knew that it was not in the kid behind her to actually do anything. But it pissed her off.

She was pissed at her family, at her mother for giving him shit. She was pissed at Jonathan for being so afraid of losing her. She was pissed at the idiot behind her for trying to ruin her night. But above all, she was pissed at herself. Pissed that she had let it get to this point again, pissed that this was so difficult, and pissed that she was pissed.

So there was only one thing to do, and she knew what it was. Jack never saw it coming, but she spun on the tip of her high heeled shoe, stepped forward as if to kiss him, yanking on her wrist to pull him towards her, and then smashed her forehead straight into his nose, feeling it crack underneath the assault of the hardest bone in her body against one of the softest in his.

Jack screamed out, stumbling backwards, his hands covering his face, blood squirting out between his fingers. The kid was a bleeder, wailing like a pig now as he tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground. She had taken two steps forward, following him instinctively to make sure he was down, but Jonathans arms pulled her back into the anonymous embrace of the crowd, away from the opening hole around the fallen suitor.

"Can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"You could take me home, and let me work of some of this frustration."

"Your wish is my command." He kissed the back of her neck, and pulled her from the club, knowing fully well how she intended to work herself out.

"I didn't know you were such a brawler." Tammy was twirling the glass of OJ in her hand, making the orange liquid squish around and up the sides, her eyes tracking Amber as she paced back and forth beyond the counter that separated kitchen from living room.

"Whatever. I should have never let it go that far. I wanted you to meet him, he was kinda cute, but I sent some wrong signals, I can see that now. I should have never let it come to that."

"Why not? I think it turns Jonathan on when you are at your most violent."

That gave Amber pause, and she looked up from her path on the floor to her friend, weighting her words in her mind. "You think so?"

"You always come back telling me about how you guys have great sex afterwards."

"We always have great sex."

"I don't know if it is normal for couples to have great sex after the woman goes out and gets into a fight with somebody."

"Why would it not be?"

Tammy shrugged, took another sip of OJ, and set the glass down to attack her bagel again. "Anyways, when do I get to see this boat of his?"

"Next weekend, if you want to come."

"You guys aren't going to screw like rabbits all weekend, are you?"

"Oh yeah!"

The Club was packed, so they had to move from their regular table upstairs to one of the small affairs that dotted the space around the bar, meaning that between four beer bottles and four lunch plates, there was little room for anything else, and they were a bit closer then usually. But they leaned in a lot to whisper as if conspiring, and looked around suspiciously. All a bit silly for four fully-grown men, but what else did they have going?

"I'm telling you, we should switch up!" Markus was more guilty of it then anybody else, at that moment basically blowing across the top of his beer bottle, to once again emphasize that their current golf pairings were bullshit.

"No way. That would mean that bad and bad would be together." Randy was adamant.

"I can't believe we are talking about this. You are just upset that your infamous line drive failed you, and you hit it in the rough."

"You said you would never mention that again." The voice of the lawyer was pure acid.

Jonathan shrugged. "I lied. I'm not Catholic, I can do that."

Markus shot him daggers, and changed the subject. "So now that you've been with Ms Mathews for almost a damn year, when are you guys getting married?"

The table got deathly silent, and everybody looked at Jonathan, who at that moment could have reached across and strangled his close friend. Finishing the piece of chicken that he was currently chewing, he put down his knife and fork, then looked around to make sure they were not being listened to by anybody, he leaned in closer.

"Not a word. I'm trying to think of a way to ask her."

"What?" Morrison could not believe his ears. "Why?"

"Why do you think, you idiot!" Randy wanted to slap him, but resisted the urge.

"Trip to Paris." Markus was the only one trying to be helpful.

"Why do you want to marry the cow to get the milk?" Morrison was still in shock.

"You are really retarded, you know that?" Randy did reach up to slap him, but his friend swatted the hand away.

"Or if you want something different, you could backpack across Europe, but that makes you look like you are trying to much. Play to your strengths, my dad told me." Markus had to think about it for a second, leaning back and scratching behind his right ear, always a sign of deep thought.

"You know, I mean I like the girl and all, good girl, so don't take this wrong…but she'll keep giving it up without a ring."

"That's it!" Randy almost lunged across the table, his hands latching onto Morrison's throat, and squeezing as sugar and salt packets went everywhere. Markus let it go on for a couple of seconds, then sucker punched Randy in the kidney, sending him back into his chair.

"Well…thank you that you guys are so passionate about this. But I've told you guys how I feel about her, and I think I want to be with her forever."

"Which in your case will only be about another twenty years or so."

"Why are we friends again?"

"Aspen?"

"I told you I own a house up there."

"I didn't think that meant we would actually ever go! Who does that?"

"What, visit the houses they own?"

"Own multiple homes!"

"People that can afford it do."

"No kidding. Let's be real. People don't fly to their multiple homes in their private jet."

"Why not?"

"Because! That would almost make this a fairy tale, and the sex in fairy tales is not nearly as good as this."

"How would you know? I've seen a porn or two in my time with fairly tale themes."

"Really?" That surprised her. She had never found porn in his home, and she had done some fairly extensive searching. That, and he did not strike her as the porn type.

"Yeah. I'm not a total prude."

"I see that. Proud of ya." So she kissed him, leaning across the table to make sure he got a good view down the top of her dress, leaving him breathless from the ministrations of her tongue, and the desire for more.

"Anyways, I want to take you skiing. I've seen all the sports you're good at, now it's time to show you one of mine." He had made the mistake of attempting to race her in swimming several weeks ago, not realizing that she had been on the swim team for three years in high school. Apparently Lincolnton did not offer much besides athletics, and she had tried them all.

"Easy enough, I've only been skiing in the mountains around here a couple of times. No trying to show me up."

"Never."

She leaned close again, her arms squeezing her breasts up towards him, her lips rolling her tongue back and forth as she smiled at him. "Just you and me?"

"Yeah."

"Like a romantic getaway?"

"One could say that."

"I'll make sure to pack all my nasty lingerie!"

The glow on her face had to be seen to be believed. He would have figured that she would tire quickly of the walking, the skiing, the sun, the cold, and all the things that Angelina had always hated about Colorado. All the things that had robbed him of joy the last couple of times he had come here, the reason he had stopped frequenting his house out here, the first true indulgence he had allowed himself after making it big.

But not Amber. The girls' energy was never ending, and the places she dragged him off to so that she could ravage him were rapidly growing to so many that he had a hard time remembering the first couple. He had paid for her to have private lessons, but like most sports, she was a natural at this one as well, and the next day she hit the powder with him. She could not keep up, so he slowed down, and she raped him in a small knoll of trees out in the two-foot deep virgin snow, unable to express with mere words how happy she was at being with him.

In the afternoons they would come back to the house, and she would lay out naked on the upstairs balcony, from where she could see down the main street, but the privacy barriers prevented anybody from seeing her. When he was young, he had envisioned it as the perfect spot for "public" sex, and with her that finally came true. She was very impressed when she learned that such activities had been the balconies original purpose, and his creativity was rewarded twice over by her enthusiasm.

She insisted that they make their own breakfast, unwilling to let him spend the money to eat out all three meals, so she would cook for him in the nude in the morning, but allow herself to be taken out at night, as they were doing now. She had also tried to resist his spending spree on her clothing, but since she had no ski clothes or other seasonable wear that was appropriate for the climate and place, she had relented.

And she had to admit that she looked good in the things he had chosen, as much as she had hated the money he dropped on her. But she was getting used to it, and he had joked that every time she punched somebody, he got to drop a grand on her. She had wanted to punch him, but knew that if she did, he would buy something. It was dangerous too test him.

They walked down Main Street, turned up one of the hills, and the ushered into a small restaurant that had been styled to look like something from the Swiss Alps. Or at least he had told her so earlier, having never been there, she had no way of knowing if the artist had been in any way successful or not. But she was fairly certain that her first trip to Europe was only a matter of time, he kept hinting at it, and she kept telling him no.

Like everywhere they went in the town, he was greeted like family, and they were lead up a flight of stairs, down a hall, and into a small, private dining room, where a bottle of wine already awaited them, along with a basket of bread, and salad.

"How come you don't like dining with the crowd?"

"Even you won't have sex with me in a public dining room." He had to smile at that one, having caught her at a loss for words for once. But she recovered quickly, and gave him an evil smile. He knew what that meant, and figured it bode well for the evening.

The fondue was served shortly there after, the broth already bubbling, the meats placed on two trays on either side of the open flame heating the pot, along with a variety of sauces, vegetables and more bread. She had only once experimented with this form of do it yourself dine out, and that had been her prom, the highlight of her hotel-sex career until she had meet him. The Hampton Inn had nothing on the Hilton. He laughed when she told him that.

"Well…I am really glad you did come to the room that night."

"Me, too." She could see the shift in his eyes, could see that something had changed, and she put down the fork she was twirling in the broth, trying to make the bubbles come up in designs. She really should stop playing with her food.

The look on his face was priceless, and to a woman that knew when her man was having trouble putting something into words, it was almost comical to watch. She was never sure what to say at such moments, so she gave him her most seductive smile, her foot toying with his legs under the table. The snow did not allow for open toed heels around her, but the high-heeled boots were rather pointy at the tip, so she could still get the message across.

Which brought a smile to his face, along with a sudden decisiveness, as he reached for her hands, and pulled them close.

"Amber…I can not even put into words how happy you have made me."

"You're not to bad yourself." She kissed his fingers, feeling their warmth over the bubbling liquid.

"I'm being serious. I'm glad you to came to my room that night." He smiled again, looked away, then back at her. "I'm no good at this. Will you come to my room every night?" He placed the simple black box before her, and she saw it flash in his eyes again.

She had seen it before, that very first night. The night sitting at the bar in Reflections, the night he had slipped her a piece of paper with his room number on it, the night she had first been entranced by the man who knew how to make her scream, who had since broken down every inhibition she had, and made her incredibly happy. It was that flash same flash now, and she finally realized what it meant. She was looking into his soul, and seeing his fear.

Slowly she pulled the box towards her, the wheels in her head spinning, the gears wildly out of control, coherent thought and strategy failing her. She was twenty-two, and nothing had prepared her for sitting in an exclusive restaurant in a ski town in Colorado, across from a man she dearly loved, and being asked to commit. Maybe she should have read Cosmo more, as her mother had often suggested.