Valentine Hook Up

"Ew, god," I muttered, pinching my nose as I carefully picked out my brother's rank dirty hockey jersey from the mess of clothes in his jam-packed hockey bag, careful to use just two fingers, terrified of contaminating my whole hand, never mind my arm.

The sound of a man laughing behind me had me turning my head to see who it was. "Are your clothes really that bad?" he asked.

Rolling my eyes, I was relieved to see it was Tim, my neighbor from down the hall. Heaving a sigh, I told him, "No, but I foolishly offered to do my brother's laundry if he'd agree to check over my car, but geez, I had no idea they'd be so disgusting that they'd nearly walk right out of the bag on their own once I got them down here."

"Aw come on, it can't be that bad, I used to play hockey," he said, still chuckling as he strode over and picked up the hockey bag. And before I had a chance to stop him, he proceeded to suck back a good long whiff to prove his point. Then I was the one laughing, as I watched his head snap back when the putrid smell hit him, just like it had hit me. He shook his head hard, and dropped the bag on the floor with a thud, muttering, "Fuck, me. Did something actually die in there?"

I laughed even harder, watching his face contort. "I told you it was bad."

"Bad doesn't begin to describe that stank, holy shit, that's nasty. Does he only wash his crap out once a year?"

"No, but he does play hockey a couple a times a week, and only washes them when he has the time."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Or when he suckers you into to doing it, I'm guessing."

I nodded, because he was right, my brother and I always did what we could for each other, especially since now that the two of us were all we had. "True, but hopefully he can find out what that knocking sound is in my car and then it would be worth it, so at least I can do a little travelling when I'm in the mood."

I watched as he opened up the lid on another washer and started to fill it with clothes from the laundry bag he'd carried down, asking me over his shoulder, "Why are you planning on taking a trip -- maybe going off for a romantic little Valentine weekend?"

Rolling my eyes, I said, "Hah! I wish. I'd actually have to have someone to go away with to make it romantic."

I could see him frown from the corner of my eye, looking like he was mulling that over as he gave me a little side eye look, scoping me out. "So, you're not seeing anyone right now?" he asked, sounding a little surprised.

I shook my head, as I held my breath and began to stuff the rest of my brother Jim's gross stuff into another washer across from his, hoping hot water and plenty of detergent would do the trick and detoxify them enough for him to be able to wear them again . "No, it's been a while since I've dated anyone. I've just been too busy studying for the Bar Exam."

He cocked his head, folding his arms across his chest, as he leaned a hip on the machine that he'd just turned on, and asked, "So how's that going?"

I shrugged. "Guess I'll find out if I pass, won't I?"

With a smile, he said, "Well I really hope you do. I know you're bright and you deserve it."

Tim and I only chatted at times like this when we found ourselves doing laundry together, or getting the mail, or the odd time when we were invited to the same party by one of our friends or neighbors, where we seemed to talk for hours about everything under the sun. But I'd always liked him, and we'd helped each other out the odd time too, and he was a super nice guy. A real straight shooter, I also liked that he didn't play games. Not to mention that he was pretty easy on the eyes; with his sandy red hair and GQ beard, and those warm, teasing brown eyes and of course that rock hard body. Now I began to wonder if he was seeing anyone. What the hell, figured there was no harm in asking. "So have you got any plans for Valentine's day, Tim?"

He shook his head and said, "Nope, at least not so far." Then he grinned, "Why, you want to spend it with me?"

I grinned then, too. Shrugging, I said, "Who knows, it might be fun." Maybe even a lot of fun, with a guy like him. But then again, I realized he might just be teasing.

Then I could actually feel his eyes raking me over, and suddenly it occurred to me that since I was only planning to do laundry and hadn't expected to see anyone, I'd thrown on an embarrassingly short pair of daisy dukes, and a snug little pink T-shirt that didn't quite cover my waist, or do much of a job of covering my big boobs. Watching his brown eyes grow dark right before my eyes, he murmured, "Yeah, I bet you and I would have some fun."

Biting into my lip, as awkward as it was, I knew I had to tell him the truth. "Actually, Tim, you might not have as much fun with me as you'd think."

His eyes narrowed as he lifted his gaze and met mine. "And why's that?"

Heaving a sigh, I figured no point in beating around the bush and just spit it out. "I've been studying so hard for so many years, that I've never really had much experience with men. So..."

His brow shot up, looking shocked. "Really?"

With a nod, I said, "Yeah, almost none."

Then I watched a slow sexy grin spread across his nice full mouth. "Then I'd bet I could have a great time with you teaching you a few tricks."

Wow. That gave me something to think about. Learning the ropes from someone like him might be a little too much for a novice like me, but then again, he looked like he'd know his way around a woman. And wouldn't it be better to learn from a pro than from some bumbling idiot who wouldn't know my clitoris from my tonsils? Hoping I wouldn't live to regret it, I playfully said, "Who knows, you could be right, and we might just have some fun."

And I noticed his eyes warm along his smile when I said that.

Once we were done with our laundry, Tim insisted on lugging my brother's hockey bag back up to my apartment, seeing as he'd often been kind enough to help me up to my place with my groceries. And I was so glad I'd thought to bring along a clean garbage bag to line it with before I filled it with his clean clothes, or they'd just end up reeking all over again. I think I had to tell my brother it was time he got a new hockey bag, since the one he'd been using was beyond hope. And Tim was right it did smell like something had crawled in there and died. Standing at my door, I cupped his face and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, and said, "Thanks for lugging his bag up for me, Tim," enjoying the soft feel of his beard against my hand.

His eyes flashed, as he grinned. "No problem. Now about this weekend, what would you like to do?"

Aside from learning just about everything a normal healthy woman of twenty-five should already know about sex? But of course I didn't tell him that, instead, flashing him a naughty grin, I just waggled my eyebrows and murmured suggestively, "Maybe I should leave that up to you."

Then I watched as he began to smile again, and such a very sexy smile it was, as he said, "I was thinking we could start on Thursday night, and go right through the weekend, how does that sound?"

I could feel my eyes pop a little just thinking about three whole days of non-stop naughty fun and games, especially with a guy as hot as he was. But was he really planning to mess with me for three days straight? What the hell had I agreed to? Although I wanted to learn the ropes, I sure didn't want to have to be resuscitated before the weekend was even over. Nervously biting into my lip, I nodded and said, "Sure." But I knew I didn't sound it.

Cupping my chin, he tipped up my face, and said, "You know you'll be safe with me, right?" And I couldn't say why, but I already knew I would be. So I nodded back, and closed my eyes, then he leaned in and kissed me. Although it didn't last too long, it sure felt nice to feel his lips on mine. And it just felt so good, that unfortunately I forgot to open my eyes for a moment when he pulled back. And when I finally did, he was smiling at me, looking like he was trying not to laugh. "I think we're going to have a really good time, together, Vanessa," he said. Then he gently touched his lips to the end of my nose, turned and left.

And watching his nice tight ass walk away, I had a feeling he was right. We were going to have one hell of a good time together. Providing of course, I survived.

More nervous than I'd ever been studying for a major exam, it was probably that prepping for a sexy weekend was something I'd never had any experience with. Of course I'd dated a few times, but I'd never stayed overnight with anyone before. And the two sexual encounters I'd had, had both been pretty forgettable. And I hadn't the faintest idea what I was supposed to dress like for a weekend of possible debauchery. Oh, God, closing my eyes, even though it was already Valentine's day, I wondered if I should just knock on his door and tell him I couldn't go through with it. And I imagined he'd probably hate having to show me every last thing there was to know. Damn, I wasn't even much of a kisser, and I'm sure he'd at least expect me to know how to lock lips with him, if he was hoping to get anywhere with me.

But finally deciding to just suck it up, and put on my big girl panties, I went out to see what I could find. Strolling along peeking into shop windows near my apartment building I noticed a gorgeous red dress beautifully showcased in the window of one of the nicer boutiques on the street. Short, low cut and shimmery, damn, it had sex written all over it. But then again, it might be too much for someone like me -- more of a jeans and T-shirt kind of girl, who rarely bothered with make-up. But then I realized if I was really going to do this, then maybe I should try and do it right and at least make myself look alluring enough that he'd actually want to be with me.

Stealing my nerve, I wandered into Liza's boutique, surprised that it also had a salon with chairs and sinks at the back for hair and makeup. A pretty redhead instantly smiled and said hello the moment I walked inside. And although I felt like a bit of a fraud, in a shop like this that catered to women who liked to dress their best, at least I didn't turn on my heel and flee.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked.

Turning my head, I gazed longingly at the stunning red number in the window again. Pointing at it, I got up the nerve, and said, "I think I'd like to try that on."

She smiled encouragingly. "And I bet you'll great in it, too."

I had to take her word for it. I had precisely one black dress in my cupboard -- that over the last few years I'd worn to three funerals and one fancy dinner party. So I could hardly be considered a fashion diva by any stretch of the imagination.

Tipping her head, she said, "You look to be about a size four." I had to take her word on that, too, since I never really shopped much, so I had no idea what size dress I wore. But the moment she held open the change room door and passed the dress in for me to try on, I had the strangest sensation come over me, like I was Cinderella preparing for the ball. I grinned as I slipped out of my clothes, realizing Tim was cute enough to be my Prince Charming, too.

And the moment I put on that dress, I just knew I had to have it. It fit like it was made for me, and I have to say, turning to get a side view, my girls had never looked better -- just enough cleavage to look sexy without looking trashy, now I had to find some sexy shoes to go with it. As though able to read my mind, the woman held the most gorgeous, to die for pair of size seven black patent leather shoes over the change room door, and said, "Now why don't you try it with these?"

And damn, eyeing my reflection in the mirror, I don't think I'd ever looked sexier. The shoes gave me height, and made my legs look like they should be insured. And Tim, I imagined, would like what he saw -- at least I hoped.

Once I stepped out to get her opinion, I watched her eyes go big and round as she smiled appreciatively.
"Wow. I'd say that dress was made for you, honey. You know you've really got a great shape now that I can finally see it."

Checking myself out in the mirrored door, I could see what she meant. My usual jeans and T-shirt did more to hide my body than show it off. But damn, in this dress, I looked like a freaking goddess. "I think I'll take it," I finally said.

Eyeing me for a moment, she said, "Can I make a suggestion?"

I nodded. "Sure."

"I think with a little makeup and your hair styled just right, you'd really do that dress justice, and you'd look even more beautiful than you already do."

I knew what she meant, and I wasn't offended. With my long dark hair hanging in heavy waves down my back, and my face scrubbed clean, I imagined I kind of looked like a kid trying on her mom's dress. "You think I could get an appointment here now?"

Smiling, she crooked her finger and led me to the back of store, telling me, "Why don't we ask and see?"

And damn, once Tammy the hair-stylist was done with my hair, and Jeannette the make-up genius had carefully applied my makeup, I barely recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. I looked... almost beautiful. Like the kind of woman who could turn heads. And now I just hoped that Tim would like the new me.

Turns out Liza herself, the owner, had helped me put my new look together, and she was also kind enough to throw in some sexy undies, 'just for fun', she said, with a wink. Since I'd never worn a push up bra or a thong before, I hoped I'd be setting myself up for all kinds of kinky fun. Especially once Tim got me out of my daring little dress.

Just to be on the safe side, I also bought a slinky black silk shortie nightie, robe and pretty matching slippers. Then at least I'd have something else to wear, once the dress came off. And just up the street, passing by a pharmacy, I decided that stocking up on condoms might be a good idea, too. Not sure what to buy, since I never bothered carrying them with my abysmal sex life, I just grabbed a little of everything: ribbed, lubricated, studded, ones that warmed, and even a few flavored -- and just for shits and giggles, even some that would glow in the dark. I grinned thinking how much fun it would be to see Tim's erection lit up in the dark like a ghostly boner.

Once I got home, I showered, careful to keep my new hair and makeup in place. Slipping back into my uber sexy red dress and heels, I wondered if Tim would even recognize me. Clutching my little overnight bag with my nightie, toothbrush and a few other essentials, like my cornucopia of condoms, I made my way down the hall, sucked in a calming breath and knocked on his door. When he didn't answer right away, my heart began to sink as I wondered if he'd only been kidding, and I'd done all this for nothing. He probably had plans for the weekend with some woman he was already seeing, and he'd just been playing with me for fun. About to turn tail and run back to my apartment, I froze when he pulled open the door, stopping me in my tracks with the way he was looking at me, eyes wide, as he appreciatively murmured, "Jesus, Vanessa, look at you."

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, wondering if I'd gone a little overboard with the makeover, looking down at myself, I said, "What's wrong, don't you like it?"

His face lighting up in a very sexy smile, he reassured me when he said, "Are you kidding? Damn girl, you clean up nice."

I grinned then, feeling relieved. He looked good too, really good actually, in a black button down shirt, black slacks, and dress shoes, seems he'd dressed up for me, too. "And you look nice," I told him.

Pulling me in for a hug, he pressed a kiss to my cheek, and said, "And you look fucking amazing."

Wow. No one had ever said anything like that to me before. Tim had such a way with words that always made me laugh.

Being so close, I took a whiff of him and decided I loved the way he smelled, so manly and clean with a hint of something kind of musky, that was a total turn on. Then turning my head, I realized his apartment smelled pretty good, too, and I asked him, "Are you cooking something?"

Slipping his arm around my waist, he ushered me inside. "You bet. I'm making us a Valentine's feast -- steak with sautéed shrimp, twice-baked potatoes and a salad. But I was careful not to use garlic." He leaned in and whispered, "So as not to spoil the mood."

Wow. I had no idea he'd planned to go all out like this, and even cook for us. "Gee, if I'd known, I would have at least brought some wine."

Leading me into his kitchen, he let go of me, strode over and popped open his fridge. "No worries, I've got it covered." Then he reached in and grabbed a chilled bottle of Prosecco, and poured us each a glass, in proper Champagne flutes, too.

I'd never been in his place before, but glancing around, I had to say it was pretty nice. For a guy, his place was surprisingly neat and clean. My brother's apartment always looked like a bomb had just gone off, sometimes even more than one. But Tim's place, all done in classic whites and beiges, looked civilized and pretty stylish, without being prissy, kind of like him.

With a little hum of awareness buzzing between us, we smiled into each other's eyes as we drank.

"So, how do you like your steak?" he finally asked.

"Medium rare."

He smiled. "That's good, same as me."

And when I took a seat at one of the stools at his kitchen bar counter, watching him grill our steaks, smiling up at me now and then, expecting to be nervous, I was surprised at how at ease I felt with him. Although I'd known him for a couple of years, and considered him a friend, we'd never really been alone like this before. Especially with a weekend like we were planning looming ahead of us.

Once he was done, and he led me into the other room, I couldn't believe the table he'd set up in his little dining area. A vase of long stemmed red roses, he said were for me, sat in the center, with red napkins and white china; it was perfect for a romantic little Valentine's dinner for two. And he even made a point of pulling out my chair for me, like the gentleman he was. Already the weekend felt special and pretty romantic, thanks to his thoughtfulness. So I smiled into his eyes, and said, "Thank you, Tim, this is really nice."

And as we ate I realized that everything was amazingly good, and I told him so, too. "You know you really are a good cook." My steak was just the way I liked it, a perfect medium rare, the shrimps were delectable and not overdone, and the potatoes were fantastic, so fluffy and full of cheesy goodness. I had no idea, in addition to being a super nice guy that he even knew his way around a kitchen.

Hearing me shamelessly moan as I ate, he laughed, "Don't look so surprised. I'm not just a pretty face you know."

Although I already knew that was true, it still made me laugh when he said it. I liked that he didn't take himself too seriously, and even more that he was doing his best to put me at ease. Then swirling the wine in his glass with his eyes fixed on mine, he said, "You'd know, I've often thought of asking you out."

Surprised, I asked, "Then why didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. You're just so pretty that I always assumed you had a boyfriend."

I shook my head and said, "Nope, never had one, since I've never really had the time. But hopefully now that I'm I almost finished with school I will." Looking surprised, his brow shot up, but he didn't say anything.

After we'd enjoyed a leisurely dinner, he even insisted on clearing the table. Then he came back carrying a black velvet mask in his hand, telling me, "I want to try something with you."

My pulse shot up at the idea of being blindfolded, especially since he'd gotten me so relaxed, and to be honest I couldn't believe how fast he wanted to start getting busy with me. "Um, okay, but what did you want to try?" I asked, sounding nervous, even to my own ears.