he could lick and suck, bite, taste, kiss.
The heat of the shower and the heat under the covers came together, enough for us to stretch out, losing our protected curls around body heat. We were face to face and mouth to mouth, hands sliding as far as they could reach along chests and sides and hips and creeping inward, in between, exploring, kissing as we went, not quite ready to meet each other's eyes, hands being enough for now.
He pulsed in my hand, hot and hard and ready, and I felt his fingers slick on me, in me, making my hips strain against his.
When finally we pressed into each other, bodies becoming one, it was sweet, two hot fires melding into one until we didn't need the blankets and the room around us seemed to heat. We rolled together, me on top, him on top, mouths coming together and moving apart, eyes on each other and eyes distant. Sometimes together, sometimes individuals seeking comfort. Strangers meeting.
Like a fire, we blazed up more than once, reigniting and settling to coals again. There were bright moments when he grated his teeth against one of my nipples, or when I raked fingernails down his spine while he sat up in bed, legs crossed tailor style, me on his lap, rocking into him. There were moments of comfort, kisses that seemed sweeter than what I'd expect for a one-night stand. There were periods when the fires banked and we lay side by side, soft blankets molding to our bodies, hands loosely linked or my head on his shoulder.
I'd expected to spend the night alone in a cheap hotel in Hanlin, worrying about my presentation, getting up so often to check everything was still in the messenger bag and the bag still in the hotel room I'd eventually take the bag to the bed with me. After all, half of the bed would be empty.
This was better. So much better. Someone else here, someone who had listened without judgment when I talked about being afraid of the interview process. That mattered. Most people seek to coddle and comfort, or bully and bluster, anything to get you to move on from the thing occupying your mind and their conversation at the moment.
This was better.
I told myself I didn't need it, wouldn't miss it. This was an aberration. Tomorrow morning real life would reestablish itself. I told myself that was better.
I fell asleep not believing it.
Chapter 4
I woke before dawn in the throes of nightmare.
It wasn't anything new. Same old dream, the one I'd been having some variation of ever since my father, the embezzler, had done his thing and gotten caught. This time I'd just added the current fears about the interview for a special fillip.
In the dream, inevitably I'm somewhere I want to be, doing something I want to do. Doesn't matter what. When I was in high school it was literary magazine, and I really did end up leaving that before the end of the year, because there was too much animosity. Our little Southern California town wasn't one of the big ones. We might have been surrounded by mega-cities but Pasadena isn't. My father not only became infamous overnight with the arrest for embezzling, he had hurt people in our town.
People who were the parents of the teens I went to school with. The literary magazine adviser thought it would be a good idea for me to take a break, then never got back to me about returning. Sunny stuck by me, and our core group of friends, even Holly, whose father lost a fortune to my father's perfidy. That mattered. It mattered to other students, too, and before the year ended most of them saw me as separate from my parents, and someone who had done nothing to hurt them or their families.
But the phone calls and harassment had started, the newspaper articles and TV chat show interviews of financial spokespeople and the late night comics' jokes.
Tonight's dream featured the economic development job I was interviewing for. It showed me confident and informed, well-trained and well-prepared, setting up for the interview. Everyone in the
The heat of the shower and the heat under the covers came together, enough for us to stretch out, losing our protected curls around body heat. We were face to face and mouth to mouth, hands sliding as far as they could reach along chests and sides and hips and creeping inward, in between, exploring, kissing as we went, not quite ready to meet each other's eyes, hands being enough for now.
He pulsed in my hand, hot and hard and ready, and I felt his fingers slick on me, in me, making my hips strain against his.
When finally we pressed into each other, bodies becoming one, it was sweet, two hot fires melding into one until we didn't need the blankets and the room around us seemed to heat. We rolled together, me on top, him on top, mouths coming together and moving apart, eyes on each other and eyes distant. Sometimes together, sometimes individuals seeking comfort. Strangers meeting.
Like a fire, we blazed up more than once, reigniting and settling to coals again. There were bright moments when he grated his teeth against one of my nipples, or when I raked fingernails down his spine while he sat up in bed, legs crossed tailor style, me on his lap, rocking into him. There were moments of comfort, kisses that seemed sweeter than what I'd expect for a one-night stand. There were periods when the fires banked and we lay side by side, soft blankets molding to our bodies, hands loosely linked or my head on his shoulder.
I'd expected to spend the night alone in a cheap hotel in Hanlin, worrying about my presentation, getting up so often to check everything was still in the messenger bag and the bag still in the hotel room I'd eventually take the bag to the bed with me. After all, half of the bed would be empty.
This was better. So much better. Someone else here, someone who had listened without judgment when I talked about being afraid of the interview process. That mattered. Most people seek to coddle and comfort, or bully and bluster, anything to get you to move on from the thing occupying your mind and their conversation at the moment.
This was better.
I told myself I didn't need it, wouldn't miss it. This was an aberration. Tomorrow morning real life would reestablish itself. I told myself that was better.
I fell asleep not believing it.
Chapter 4
I woke before dawn in the throes of nightmare.
It wasn't anything new. Same old dream, the one I'd been having some variation of ever since my father, the embezzler, had done his thing and gotten caught. This time I'd just added the current fears about the interview for a special fillip.
In the dream, inevitably I'm somewhere I want to be, doing something I want to do. Doesn't matter what. When I was in high school it was literary magazine, and I really did end up leaving that before the end of the year, because there was too much animosity. Our little Southern California town wasn't one of the big ones. We might have been surrounded by mega-cities but Pasadena isn't. My father not only became infamous overnight with the arrest for embezzling, he had hurt people in our town.
People who were the parents of the teens I went to school with. The literary magazine adviser thought it would be a good idea for me to take a break, then never got back to me about returning. Sunny stuck by me, and our core group of friends, even Holly, whose father lost a fortune to my father's perfidy. That mattered. It mattered to other students, too, and before the year ended most of them saw me as separate from my parents, and someone who had done nothing to hurt them or their families.
But the phone calls and harassment had started, the newspaper articles and TV chat show interviews of financial spokespeople and the late night comics' jokes.
Tonight's dream featured the economic development job I was interviewing for. It showed me confident and informed, well-trained and well-prepared, setting up for the interview. Everyone in the
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