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Author’s Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. You do not have to read any other chapters to understand this one. All characters over are 18 or over when sex is involved.
If “..” appears before or after a phrase, sentence, or word, it refers to a conversational reaction. What that reaction is is entirely relative. (ha) Generally, but not always, it refers to: ‘extra pause’ or ‘hurriedly’.
This chapter was originally going to be the last; instead, I have made it a sexy stand alone story/chapter, and placed the rest into another 2/3 chapters. Thanks for all around great feedback and the favorites. Actual fans, go figure? Hope you enjoy.
Mental Patience, Part 4: Differences, or
Accidents Happen Part 4, and Interference, Part 2
“I’ve never told you this.. but… I’m still a virgin.” Heather was facing Elijah on the king sized bed in the corner of the large studio apartment, sharing a side of his – and the only – pillow in the shadows of light from the Television. A good movie they were not watching, a movie that held no interest, was playing on his giant projection screen, a thing he called a ‘scratching dent’ – or close to it – a phrase Heather did not understand the meaning of.
“I know.” Elijah spoke, softly touching Heather with the fingers of the arm his head rested upon, playing with her curly hair. His other hand began to tease the long slow curve of her hip, on the bare skin between her rumpled shirt and low-hanging pink cloth shorts.
“I figured that you would, but I still wanted you to hear it from me,” she was whispering, “I had a feeling someone would tell you.” She looked into his eyes, curious at his lack of reaction. “I’m on the pill, have been for a while now.” Heather was trying her best to inform him, to tell him what she wanted, yet Elijah seemed to ignore the last part.
“I knew before they told me. That’s why I wish they would shut up.” Elijah’s eyes were focused on the black string of the thong sticking above her shorts, with which he toiled, instead of his battle and fury within.
“Really? How did you know?” Her voice had moved to just above a whisper; a scene on the screen suddenly lit up the room while she started speaking, returning it to shadows exactly when she finished speaking. Heather was trying to expose a fraud, cynical to his gender, chance had chosen to accent it in a way that could have been lightning without thunder.
“I don’t know.. Sometimes I just think I know things about you, like.. In the back of my head?” His focus was still purely on the string. “I think we’re connected.. I know we’re going to be…”
“..boys..” Heather’s words stole his attention back; he wasn’t smiling sexy to mirror her own, instead looking suddenly fierce. Heather’s stiff nipples suddenly hardened beneath her shirt. “Boys may be boys, but sometimes this boy.. Oh, boy,” she smiled inside and out, wishing he would handle her, take her – now and anywhere, if not sooner.
“I’m serious. Don’t tell me you don’t feel whatever this is, chemical, I guess, for now. That’s why I wish they would stop telling you things…” Elijah turned his attention back to the string, stopping for a gander at her pointing headlights, hoping chance was on his side. Heather really did have a great rack, the kind of rack that would make Elijah’s friends mad at their own girlfriends, that is, if he had any friends.
“What do you think they” – she was mocking him, Elijah knew it, but he did not react – “are telling me?” Heather propped herself on her elbow and put her hands together just below where her breasts met, in turn raising her head higher than his own with her face full of curiosity.
Elijah rolled onto his back, throwing his arms behind his head, incidentally flexing his chest, eight-pack, and arms, for her pleasure. “Just what they think is right.” he spoke, quietly.
“What’s wrong with that?” Heather was confused at why he though he knew better than everybody else, yet totally entranced by the view.
“Everything.” Elijah sighed at the word from his own mouth, turning to look at her conflicted face, somehow unable to stop the back of his mind from saying he was about to ruin their potential. “She’s supposed to figure this out herself,” it kept repeating as he memorized the face he dreamed of.
Chance had loaded the deck, Elijah was down to a choice: Either stop this villainy – he shivered – it should not be him, he should not be doing this with her yet, neither was ready – or let it happen – because he could just be thinking crazy, as it was the back of his mind no matter how loud it was.
“Explain: Everything. Can’t it just be helping?” Elijah had never seen Heather cynical before, or heard her arrogant, until that moment: He would never forget how it changed to aghast, something else he had never seen before, and either.(ha)
Elijah was going to let bahis firmaları this happen, because potentially is far better than maybe; he wanted her and she wanted him, so Elijah set up his dominos, following chance’s pattern full of potential paths to the same end.
“We don’t need any help.” He looked stern, quiet for a spell before speaking again. “Did you know I’m a virgin as well, Hot Stuff? ..Or have you been told something else?” Elijah was speaking to the asbestos tile ceiling covered in plastic sheeting, silently wishing that she would have asked him.
“WHAT?! ..But you dated all those girls! ..And all of those parties! ..Ohmgodwhataboutwhat Terry Morris said!!” The tone of Heather’s words redefined his use of ‘surprised’ from that day forward.
“A pretty little thing that needs a ride, and someone who I would be willing to have sex with, are not the same thing, Hot Stuff. You, of all people,” he overacted the words causing her to giggle and slap him, causing Elijah to flinch and giggle out: “..should know better.”
Elijah was running through memories of the only girl he had fooled around with, both just turned eighteen at the time; the two had struck a deal: “So we don’t feel like idiots” the young woman had said: “Fine, but no penetration,” had been his reply.
Elijah no longer spoke to that particular young woman, the first he had seen naked, the first woman to try and call him a friend; he missed Terry. He still felt terrible for using her – and he would feel the same sensation whenever he thought of villainy for the rest of his life – knowing her obvious tricks, even then, but hoping to make this moment better as a result.
“Seriously?! Like? Really?” Heather was aghast, and chance was choosing the path in which she understood it.
“Indeed,” Elijah replied, feeling like a piece of shit right down to his very core. “I mean, I know some things.. but yeah, not that.”
“Why not? It’s like, different for guys, right? I mean you could have…” Heather almost appeared disappointed at first, followed by a slow creeping smile and far away visions.
“For the same reason you haven’t,” Elijah spoke softly but appeared to strain at speaking, forcing the words out from head to toe.
Heather quickly sat up perpendicular to his body from her hips up after he spoke, though her legs still folded and parallel to his, her eyes looking past Elijah, past the bed, right at her thoughts.
He turned to watch her at the start of the abrupt movement; the strange smile on his face mirrored his thoughts of “Yes, I am” – just the same as the slightest of head turns.
“Does he know what I’m thinking? No, this is right, this is sexual attraction, he’s not making this happen.” Heather’s internal voice raced her insides while both twisting in competition.
Her left hand slid to his bare chest, moving her head to look down at his body, taking in the real world, wet between her legs, and pressing against his muscles with the tips of her fingers – still not paying attention to his face.
“Heregoes,” she thought through her onrushing anxiety.
“Well..” Heather pulled her shirt off quickly – she was getting too hot, too fast, resuming her position above him, now looking slightly embarrassed – “..was it a person you waiting for?” Heather finally turned her head to look at his face and moving her hand to the top of his shorts though still pressing on firm muscle.
She was hoping he had an answer, even if it was not a good one, so she could finally get past foreplay – her nipples almost hurt and no one was touching them – to the photo finish.
“I was waiting for you to really see me. I don’t know if this is right yet…” Elijah finally caught her gaze; he surprised Heather as her eyes settled; Heather could swear he was watching her whole self at once; her eyes, full of fire, turned off his brain. She shivered in the warm air of the giant open space on the cool evening in step with his mind going blank for the first time in his short life.
Heather could smell the relief of the cool air, but had no idea where it lie; his touch was more than relief for the temperature.
She was no longer awkward at the situation, instead all tingles, because his right hand slid along the length of her left leg while he was rolling to face her, then the length of her left arm as he sat up, then the length of her left shoulder as he settled his weight on his knees, and finally, stopping on the left side of her neck with his thumb on her cheek, softly laying his fingers across the curve of her neck, heading towards her spine.
Heather let go of her thoughts of how things should be happening, of what she was supposed to think; this was what she wanted, and she wanted it now, this is how it would be: Natural; no burning candles; no perfect song; no isolated beach and crashing surf with unicorns watching from above and dancing in happy little clouds being painted by kaçak iddaa Bob Ross himself.
Before she died, her Grandmother had told her to: “Just let it happen, Flower Girl, don’t make it happen.”
Elijah’s hand was as wide as Heather’s neck from her shoulder to her jaw, with his thumb past halfway of the height of her ear, at the curve of the top of her cheekbone. Heather wrapped both hands around the firm muscles of his lower back, her knuckles turning red with the slight force of her fingers in his dimples as she also pulled herself to her knees.
Elijah mirrored her movement, placing his free left hand onto her side, his fingers across her cloth covered rear, his thumb on the joint of her strong hip and smooth stomach.
Both she and Elijah pulled each other into a passionate kiss in the center of the bed, on the tangled, but clean fluffy comforter, seemingly built to form into one another, and exerting zero physical force, instead using gravity to start the dominos at the end of the race.
Nicole had poured the scotch into the correct glass, her ideas on sex as he called out ‘neat’ to her question regarding mixes.
The bar, hidden in his kitchen cabinet above the sink, was only top shelf and liqueurs; all of the glasses felt like they did not exist, the mixers and utensils silver and pearl. It was the mixers that matched the crystal seltzer bottle, that’s what made her snap.
Nicole was not leaving until sexual satisfaction – not after all this build up.
Elijah had chosen to play his ‘Obscure Eighties’ mix, to see just how much she loved to dance, his thoughts indirectly including sex, but mostly on potential conversations and visions.
Nicole handed him his glass, pressing into his body and trying for a kiss, but he moved away from her pressure and sat down.
“Guess not,” she said silently to herself after a sigh. She plopped into the center of the love seat forming a triangle with his oversized, cushy lounge chair, setting down her unspilled cosmo before tying her hair up using both hands – arching her back – and a piece of ribbon that came from nowhere.
Elijah noticed her bare feet, ankles wrapped in jean, but not until after she smoothed her shirt, which was after she smoothed her jeans, which was after she smoothed her hair, which was after she had tied it in a ribbon.
Elijah burst into laughter at the series of events, throwing his knee over the arm of his seat and tucking the other underneath his body.
“What?” She was curious, staring at his body convulse. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going on, his continuance made her uneasy, perplexed. “What?”
“Aren’t you just prepared and well placed…” he giggled out, almost like a child, “would you like a piece of gum as well? Perhaps a moist toilette?” He was smacking his slung knee to a vocalized “Ha” shortly after the end of his jokes.
“What?” Nicole’s confusion was genuine.
Elijah sighed now: “Guess not,” he thought to himself, quickly ceasing his laughter as his mind went elsewhere. “You don’t have to impress me, you know? Either way, I’d be right here.” With that, he hit the MUTE button of the remote on the table blocking the hypotenuse of the triangle seating.
Something from the second side of U2’s WAR played on his newly lit primary computer screen, at a volume just below normal speech. She had thought the screen across from her seat was the Television, not a giant computer monitor. When the standard size monitor – that Nicole did not know was even there, until it lit up – slowly lit to equal the intensity of the massive LCD, she started hurredly scanning the room, wondering where the Television really was, and where the sound of music was coming from.
She found no speakers on the high hung shelves lining the room – all full – nor next to the massive shelf of films, nor around the stunningly sized Television molded into the darkly painted section of wall next to said shelf of movies to her left.
Nicole had not seen any of this; unseen even on the day of her first perfect date, but not her first date, though her first date with Elijah, and her first on a ferry, and she was here in the daylight on that day, first thing in the morning; she was being overwhelmed as the music took control. (should have read the other chapters…)
“Just let go, gorgeous, and relax, so we can talk…” Elijah’s voice was deep. She listened to the words she needed.
The next track was something from Billy Squire, the music and the dancing lines of the EQ program displayed across an entire wall, and below that as well, but directly in front of her, had a hypnotizing effect when combined with the sounds from a speakerless void.
They sat in silence for most of the song; Nicole was processing, Elijah was waiting.
“Did you slip me a mickey?” Nicole was giggling, not at all nervous; she wouldn’t have cared even if he had done so.
“Absolutely kaçak bahis not,” his face was serious, as well as his tone.
“I didn’t think so… You, Mister Eli, are magic… I mean look at the things you do to me.” With that, Nicole downed her small glass, setting it on the table after she stood.
She began to dance to a Scandal song she had never heard, out of time of the beat yet perfectly matched to the music.
“Magic is as magic does,” no Gump voice was heard, this was not the time for such things.
She felt free; chance and auto-pilot setting her to her default love; and Nicole did love to dance. “I hope you’re not bi-polar or something,” she said, smiling as she moved to the space between his knees and the table, then to the open part of the room, more spacious than it seemed from the couch or the doorway, dancing the path she took. Elijah had played with angles equal to her ability to play with motion.
His humor once again echoed out from his full body laugh, slapping his knee before saying: “Absolutely not,” and continuing to laugh, but only a little, once again, before speaking. “If anything, I’d be a sociopath, you know, but a nice one.”
“Ha,” she said aloud, laughing at his words and mimicking his trick just as the jean clad and rock solid curves of her bottom went down to touch the floor, her body snaking back to a standing posture with muscular ease, dancing, in time, to the drawn out words full of sex and carried by music; her arms danced separately in the air the entire time.
Elijah could not stop thinking of a young, Demi Moore, but, well, Ethnic.
“So what’s the point then, nice guy, Mister-tough-guy-E-li?” His eyes were locked on her swaying form, her eyes closed while she spoke, “What’s the point of being you? Where are the good things?” Elijah knew she was a smart one, he could feel it, and he was sure of what it was. This was not a time to talk about her with a cheesy line; he put the game aside and went all-in based on her person.
“Is there a point to writing a screenplay?” His expression was quizzical.
“What’s the point of being a honest politician? Or escaping the Matrix?”
“Huh?” Nicole did not understand, despite her intentions.
“What’s the point of being a Jedi?” His words were simple, calm, totally serious, and practiced in a way to suggest he’d been waiting for that series of questions for quite some time, and that the answer was tailored just for her.
She heard the last words as she randomly spun to face him. Nicole stopped dancing, her eyes snapping open at the same moment of no movement. “You can’t be serious?” Nicole did not care about politics, nor had she seen that Matrix yet, it just came out and everyone said it stunk – that it made little sense. Nicole did care about hope and love, and she loved the trilogy.
Elijah said nothing, only staring at all of her at once.
“Why’s it so hot in here?” She had once again begun to spin around, now fanning herself with one hand as she spoke, the other arm still above her head.
…and then the music stopped. Nicole stopped spinning and started looking curiously at Elijah hitting buttons on the remote. Nothing happened when he set down the remote and stood; in fact, the music did not begin to play until after his shirt was fully off and tossed onto the chair that he was previously sitting on.
Elijah slammed his drink down, licking his lips as Ray Charles began to slowly fill the room but looking as if he just swallowed Vegimeatavitamin.
He held out his hand when his face settled, which she promptly took, examining the shape of a spread screaming eagle tattooed on his chest, outlining the natural – and equally shaped – mass of his thin chest hair and the crease of muscle between his pecs; no two lines of the light blue ink connected, no shape or line was quite complete; the color matched parts of his eyes and was hard to notice with shadows against his tan skin; the dark blue Jolly Rogers on each shoulder matched the remainder of the color in his eyes – the yellow flag outlines matched the accents within his eyes and popped with equal fluorescents.
“Yummy..” She did not know his ink was there, and it was only a few years old; Nicole wondered if there was more art to behold, and if it were possible; the images forcing her to growl aloud at how they hugged the shapes of his definition, actually saying ‘Rawrl’ as she performed the word.
“I don’t like the smell of air conditioning, gorgeous, but I can turn it on, if you want.” The slightly warm, slightly humid air in the room was causing their skin to glisten: Their proximity was lighting a fire.
Nicole shivered as she moved in, knowing it was not from the AC. “We could just take off more clothes?” she said, unbuttoning the top of her jeans and embracing him fully, resting a part of her head upon his chest.
The two had finally begun to dance to the music, nearly a month after they met; Elijah always did love to dance.
“Please touch me, touch… My pussy.” Heather flushed red when she asked, it must have been the first time she said the word aloud.
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