Bradley Uppercrust the Third lay in bed a sore, singed reminder of the conclusion of yester-day's extreme games. Granted, he was very lucky,
having only one eye blackened and lost one tooth. Still, he had a difficult time remaining positive as he stared at the ceiling. It was easier to do this than to focus on what the aftermath of the contortion and injuries had been done to his body.
"So," a sweet sarcastic voice interrupted his self pity. "Had the authorities in aviation been alerted to your alleged, aerial attempt?"
Brad sighed and was both annoyed and relieved to see the poetic prophetess in his room. He tried to - literally - cover literally his embarrassment by burying himself under the Egyptian cotton comforter; failing to act uninterested as she put some flowers she had brought into a container.
"What brings you here miss mochaccino?"he asked trying not to show any more emotion than necessary. "Short of to dance upon my grave?"
She took a deep breath - oddly exciting him - as she sat on the edge of the sofa. Bradley was worried that by having her this close and alone his true feelings would be found out.
"Choking down humble pie is not good for digestion," she whispered as she inched closer. "Much less for the soul."
"I like ice cream on my pie." Brad attempted as a non-direct apology, blushing as their eyes met; since the exchange had resulted in ferreting him from under the thick materials.
"Ice cream is just milk given a second chance and under the right conditions."
"Right conditions? Second chan -" he wondered, distracted letting his guard down, only to refocus as she inched closer.
Bradley closed his eyes tightly in an effort to concentrate. He was thrilled yet overwhelmed - more so when she removed her beret and flicked it to the one place in his pit of a room it might have belonged.
If this was a joke - it had gone on long enough.
Too long.
At this point it was easier - would be anyway - to have her leave and forget this had ever happened.
He felt his skin flush as he attempted to speak again, wincing as she brushed against the tender skin.
"Problem?" she asked finally able to regain eye contact with him again.
"It's just - that..." Bradley's mind went blank. "I can't accept anything from someone - from whom - I don't even know their name."
This wasn't entirely true - only at those occasions he was at the mercy of a woman who held his attention for so long.
Except when they had first met.
And now.
"Eliza," She whispered and kissed him.
Though used to having the majority of both co-eds and collage at his feet, nothing could have prepared the Uppercrust heir to which her taste,
her touch,
her scent
- her everything -
could bring!
This was all the proof needed that money couldn't buy everything (or everyone).
With her help, Bradley could change - for the better.
He had just needed some poetic justice!