Trivial Pursuits Ch. 18

She rolled her eyes and smiled. He certainly was a schemer, she thought, admitting that life with him was never dull.

As hoped, they beat the majority of the rush hour traffic, but it was still thick enough to slow them down at times to nothing but a crawl. Denny headed out west on the 635, changing over to the 114 and then at last heading north on the 377, a wide sprawling six lane road that eventually whittled its way down to nothing more than a two lane country road. Construction, which was ubiquitous around the DFW area, was present along their route into the country, slowing their progress through flat and softly rolling land of short grass and Mesquite trees.

Alessa craned her neck several times whenever they passed longhorn cattle, which were just as often as not laying on the ground, their legs tucked beneath them in a state of confident repose. And why not? She wondered, admitting nothing was likely to disturb a giant with spears growing out of its head. After nearly forty-five minutes, they crested a hill on a dirt road, the last of the setting sun glowing a dying orange. The sky had been rapidly shifting its hues on their drive west, going from blue to purple, to dancing pinks and oranges, the sun warming clouds and coloring them artistically with the few remaining minutes of daylight.

He pulled over at the top of the hill, opening the door for her once he got out. Holding her hand, they walked off the road to a barbed-wire fence that ran along the edge of a large and empty pastureland. The sky felt so huge here, Alessa thought, looking up to a high vault that was dappled with ever-changing clouds, shifting in both hue and shape.

After a few moments of silence when they had the opportunity to absorb the tranquility before them, she cocked her head to look at him. "So...what are we doing here?"

He only smiled, a soft, melancholy sort of smile. He gave a little shake, "I just wanted you to see it, that's all, since we were in this neck of the world."

"And what is it?"

"This land, all this land as far as the eye can see, once belonged to my family. To my dad's family."

"Really?" she asked in awe, turning back to look at all the space, all the emptiness of nature that nothing filled except the scattered Mesquite trees and occasional short cactus.

"Yeah. My dad left to work in Dallas, and then moved out to California, but my uncle Patrick stayed, made his living here with his family and with my grandparents. About fifteen years ago, a big developer swooped in, bought as much of the land between Denton to Fort Worth as he could. They held out as long as they could, but in the end they sold out."

He was quiet in his reverie, his eyes seeing off into an unseen distance. Alessa reached over hand, rubbing his shoulder and then leaned into him to wrap her arm around his back. The dusky twilight was beginning to glitter as the last of the sun's direct light fell behind the west horizon and lights off in the distance were coming on line.

"Do you wish they hadn't?" she asked softly.

He shrugged. "What's to wish for? It wasn't ever a part of me, not really, not in the way San Francisco is, not in the way my career is. Or you are," he answered gently, his arm wrapping around her at last, as he laid a kiss at the crown of her head.

"But it still makes you sad," she observed.

"Well, sure. I have childhood memories of the place. Not to mention there's something about making a living from the same work as your father. That you continue on with him, even when you become a man, that you inherit his life, not just his things."

She looked up at him with her cheek still against his chest. "And yet you inherited the life he wished he'd had," she observed.

He smiled. "Yeah, I did. Law," he sighed with a smile. "That's all he talks about. That and politics. He was never meant to be a rancher. It's kind of ironic," he mused.

"What is?"

"That life conspires against us. That it throws us into circumstances that are at complete odds with the desires it first puts in our hearts." His smile was back to being poignant. "Anyway, I think you'd like him. Don't have really the same areas of interest in law, but you both like to argue," he commented with a smile. "In fact," he began slowly, pulling away from her in order to look down at her, "I've been thinking for a while...I'd like for you to meet them." When he saw her expression changed to wariness, he rushed on. "I know it sounds like sort of a big deal, but I wanted you to come home with me when I go back at Thanksgiving."

Her eyes widened even more. "Meet your family? At Thanksgiving? Denny, that is a big deal," she hedged with uncertainty.

His expression was serious but calm. "Yes, it is."

She looked away, unable to meet the intensity his request and his eyes required. She sighed. "I'm not sure. This...we're just..." but there weren't the right words available to accurately capture what they were to each other. Denny had insisted numerous times that despite the fact that he was instructing her on how to be in a relationship, what they shared was real. And in real relationships, one meets the family of the partner. She sighed again and turned to look at him.

"Okay, sure." He broke out into a radiant smile, even in the clinquant dusk. "I suppose we'll be off on Wednesday?" He nodded. "And I can bring my work with me and won't be judged for it?" she asked with a sly smile.

"Promise. Though you may not use it as an excuse to be locked away the entire time," he stipulated.

She sighed and then smiled, leaning into him once more. "Deal."

Denny kissed her, happy to seal the deal. "And since we're on the topic, maybe you'd like to think about returning the invitation," he suggested cheekily.

"What? You want to meet my family?"

"Of course," he chuckled.

She sounded exasperated. "But you've already met Cadence. Isn't that enough?"

"Not by half. Don't get me wrong, you're sister's great, but I have the very distinct feeling that your parents aren't even aware we're dating, are they?"

She looked away and then turned to head back to the car, little left to see with the purpled sky, now darkening by the second. She wrapped her arms around her, surprised at how cold it was in Texas, even for early November.

"My life's personal," she stated as she buckled in.

"But it's your family. They should know about what's going on in your life. To share in your happiness and sadness," he explained. "They should know when you're in a serious relationship."

"Not my family," she contradicted bluntly and then looked out her own window into the darkness.

He wasn't going to press it, feeling her anger inexplicably rising at what he had already said. But during their drive back, she sighed and turned his way. "Fine. If you want to meet them, maybe we could all get together in a Saturday or two," she relented, though it was with evident reluctance.

In the dark he reached over and took her by the hand, lifting it to his lips and placing a grateful kiss on her knuckles. They returned to the hotel with two hours before they were to meet the entire Mingo team at the restaurant.

"Shower?" Denny offered, grazing his lips down her neck.

Her eyes lifted to his in the mirror. A shower wasn't a bad idea. And if the sinister gleam in his eye was anything to go by, their time would be filled with more than just bathing. Guessing correctly, Alessa wasn't surprised when his kisses continued once they were inside, trailing tantalizing over her now wet neck and shoulders. His strong hands were coaxing delicious sensations from her as they caressed their way around to the front of her, tickling along her hip bone, sliding up to cup and pinch and tease one nipple and then the other.

Alessa wound her arms up and behind his head as she arched her chest into his hands. Leaning back against his strong chest, she turned her face to him, silently requesting his lips on hers. Denny turned his attention to her, his mouth close enough to share her breath, and as they stood thus embraced, his right hand made a determined line down her torso. She needed no coaxing to spread her thighs, feeling a tingling wake where his falling hand skimmed her. And as his fingertips grazed her already aroused bud, the tip of his tongue flicked out to lightly lick her parted lips.

A disappointed moan escaped her when he merely teased her with his wicked tongue, but didn't satisfy her with the kiss she sought. She unwittingly followed, her mouth open to capture his tongue should it reappear, but then his fingers became more determined, rubbing her slick sex with more than just passing flicks. Her head fell back as he played her masterfully, quickly building the arousal unfurling inside her. And still she wanted to kiss him. Again he stroked her lips with his quick tongue, drawing another moan from her when he retreated. His fingers parted the line of her lips, sliding down to her tight entrance, and then when he pushed two fingers roughly in, his mouth fell hungrily on hers.

Alessa groaned in abject need, weak from the passion he demanded of her. With his skillful fingers plunging her silken core and his mouth seducing her sweet mouth, Denny was aggressively driving Alessa to the pinnacle of desire, sparking her to flame despite the water pouring down them. When her cries of pleasure became telling of her imminent climax, her hips rolling with his thrusting fingers, Denny cruelly withdrew them from of her clutching body, spinning her around and swooping her up in one fluid movement. She needed no guidance to wrap her shapely legs around his waist, holding on to his shoulders as he positioned the fat head of his erection at her entrance. Again without warning, he forced her down onto his shaft, impaling her violently. She grunted when he hit the deepest part of her, a clenching ache causing her breath to leave her for more than a second.

When her body had adjusted, her limbs unconsciously tightened around him, pulling her closer into his strength. Denny held her by the round globes of her bottom, and when her hips began to move, seeking the answering rhythm of his body, he began moving her slowly on him. Her upper back rested against the wall, and when he began to move her, she raised her head, once more seeking the comfort of his kiss.

He seemed to be made to kiss her, Alessa thought beneath the currents of pleasure both his thick hardness and his lips and tongue produced. As he worked her up and down on him, his hands drew closer to the center, eventually touching the inner flesh of her crease. And then a finger was at the crinkled skin of her anus.

Alessa sucked in her breath and thrust her pelvis away from his prodding finger. "What are you doing?" she asked, alarmed enough for the dross of passion to dissipate almost immediately.

"Relax," he soothed against her mouth, trying to tempt her back into kissing him. But when his finger continued rubbing the tender tissue there, she didn't stop her wiggling to get away from it.

"Denny, what are you doing?" she demanded, pulling her mouth from his and looking him as sternly in the eye as she could muster.

"Sweetheart, have I ever done anything that you didn't like?"

"I'm not liking this," she immediately responded.

He gave a sighing chuckle. "You haven't even let me do anything. Will you trust me and at least let me show you?"

Alessa face scrunched in uncertainty awash with disgust. "I don't know," she hedged.

"Let me show you, and if anything hurts or you just don't like it, I can stop. Promise."

She continued drawing up in dread, but leaned forward again, wrapping her arms tightly around his shoulders and burying her face in his neck. "Okay," she whispered, her body unconsciously tensing in apprehension.

"Sweetheart," Denny murmured, his lips caressing the skin of her neck. But he knew it was pointless to tell her to relax. His hand left the vulnerable place at her bottom and rubbed soothingly up and down her back. He moved her on him, slowly though his biceps were beginning to feel the burn. At length, Alessa began responding to the sensation and allowed him to coax her face from the crook of his neck and kiss him again. When he felt she was sufficiently relaxed, well enough distracted, his hand once again rubbed its way to the crease of her bottom, three fingers grazing, almost roughly, over her back entrance.

Denny hoped the motion was enough of a firm massage to the general area and not a pin-point attack that threatened her. And he hoped that it was enough to light those sensitive nerve endings on fire, making her become aware of the possible pleasure there.

When she didn't seem to balk at his blunt rubbing, he began to increase the pressure of just one finger, until again he was swirling the wrinkled skin. Alessa moaned into his mouth, her hips now moving in sync with not only his thrusts into her body, but his finger swirling against her tight sphincter. And then gently he applied just enough pressure to edge the tip of his finger inside.

Again, she tensed against him, her mouth stilling against his. "Shh, Sweetheart, relax. It won't be painful if you just relax."

She seemed to shudder against him, and with a long exhale, he felt her body slowly relax, though her tight opening didn't give much. Removing his hand to cup her on the bottom, his other hand reached for the travel-size bottle of conditioner. He flipped the cap and squirted a healthy size onto a few of his fingers. When the rosemary-mint scent wafted up to him, he was grateful it wasn't a fruity one.

Now, with fingers slickened by copious amounts of make-shift lubricant, Denny again focused on the tiny rim. He was undulating gently into her, his thrusts not the focus of his energy. Alessa was kissing the underside of his jaw, attempting to train her mind on pleasures other than the awkward invasion into her anus. She tried to relax for him, knowing the more she squeezed, the more painful it would be. She was taking deep breaths and letting them completely out when the tip of his finger made progress past the outer ring.

Denny halted his advancement, turning his attention back to kissing her, back to moving her on and off his shaft, realizing she would require another moment of adjustment before he could continue on. Again, when she seemed relaxed against him, his finger slowly pushed inside, sliding past the strong circular muscles. He turned his hand so the pad of his finger stroked the thin wall between her vagina and rectum.

He groaned at the eroticism. "Fuck," he said lowly, "I can feel myself in you." Denny's eyes closed as Alessa leaned away from him again so her back rested against the tiled wall. He was content to just stand there and stroke his shaft through her delicate tissue. Her breath was stuttered, and then she began to move her hips on him, working herself up and down as he held her suspended in the air. He opened his eyes to watch her lithe body move toward release. The most fucking beautiful thing. He could feel his sac begin to tighten.

"Touch yourself," he growled, wanting to see her stomach convulse and feel her inner walls flutter from the other side. She dropped a hand from his shoulder and found her clit, rubbing it almost frantically as he picked up the pace with his lone finger, now working in and out. She was moaning in a different, almost tortured tone she hadn't vocalized before. His finger in her bottom was building a new kind of pleasure, if it could be called that. Something warm, without the heat, something controlling without the pinpoint sharpness like in her nub. Something new.

She began calling his name, her hips gyrating against him as her hand moved rapidly on her tiny, aching pearl. "Please," she moaned.

He could feel it rising, feeling the tensing of his skin at the base of his shaft. And then he saw the muscles of her lower abdomen quiver. Denny pulled back and thrust brutally into her once and then twice. His imbedded finger felt his organ pulsing as he shot countless wads of his come inside of her. Her legs drew up tight around him, and in her climax, she clutched herself to him, squeezing her body as snuggly to him as possible. Not even a drop of water fitting between their skin.

Denny felt dizzy, the intensity of his orgasm draining him of his presence of mind. He was breathing harshly, a hand against the wall supporting them as they slowly regained their senses. Though her entire being buzzed in the chaotic after-glow, she eventually lessened her hold on him, unwrapping her legs so she could slide down his body.

It had been the most unique sensation, erotic and pleasurable, but reminiscent of other things, and she suddenly didn't know what to think about how it had driven her to orgasm so intensely. She was quiet as she soaped up and washed her hair. Denny finished bathing before she did, and by the time she emerged from the shower he was nearly dressed.

There wasn't much speaking as they continued to get ready, partly because the loud hum of her hair dryer drowned any conversation, and partly because Denny was too content to think of words while she was filled with feelings that had no words. At one point, her phone silently buzzed on the counter next to the sink. The caller I.D. said 'mom.' She reached for it, paused, and at the last second switched it off. She would talk to her tomorrow, but not now, something the color of guilt rolling in her stomach.

On the drive to the restaurant, Denny was relaxed and jovial, sharing his childhood memories of Dallas. She listened quietly, picturing him as a precocious boy, while struggling to erase the remnant feelings of guilt. She pondered them, his voice fading into the background. Was she ashamed of what they had done in the shower? After considering it, she didn't think that was it. She gave a half smile when she admitted at this point, she was happy to allow anything Denny could do to her body that brought her pleasure. Alessa acknowledged at least some obvious guilt for not talking to her mom as she hadn't in a little more than a week. But there was guilt before she declined her mom's call; it was guilt that made her switch her phone off. So, what was that guilt?

Denny said something and chuckled, drawing her back into the car. She turned to look at him, smiling as he glanced over at her. She couldn't explain it, but there was guilt in her happiness when she looked at him. They arrived at the restaurant, which was enchantingly lit with a million twinkle lights on the hedges outside. The hostess led them back to the private room in which twenty or more people were all gathered. Ken Mingo was already present and came over to greet them, once again profusely thanking them for their excellent work. Much to Alessa's relief, the dinner went smoothly, several people making toasts, imbibing in the abundant alcohol and good food. Conversation never ceased, and Alessa sat back and observed it all, chatting cordially when necessitated by another's questions or remarks. At one point in the evening, Denny's hand had strayed under the table was to softly finger the curves of one of her knees. The caress sent shivers up her body, and when she looked over, he didn't appear to be aware of what he was doing as he conversed with Ms. Sanchez assistant. And though it seemed he was oblivious to it, it held more comfort to her than she could express.

That night they slowly made love, filled with soft, reverent touches and long, tender kisses. After, they talked into the early hours of the morning, sharing dreams of their childhood, moments of realization that stripped innocence and shaped them into who they were. He laughed when she relayed an incident as a high school sophomore in which she over extended herself with too many academic obligations, resulting in a humorous late arrival at the academic bowl in the blaringly wrong outfit.