A/N: Based on a true twitter conversation- this story was started back in the beginning of October.
The story is, is that the twitter conversation is between a B list celebrity, and my friend up to the fifth line. I was jealous, but I got a story from it. The rest is my story. But obviously charachter names/twitter handles have been changed/made up for identity protection/personal amusement...lmao. If you ask, I'll tell you who the celeb is- you might know them. On with it.
IamtheEdwardCullen: This one is pretty good too- ctd/3167247183...
CylaRose: IamtheEdwardCullen: I have a white sprinter marked as a mercedes in my driveway! #truth
IamtheEdwardCullen: CylaRose: Do you need it anymore?
CylaRose: IamtheEdwardCullen: It's not a passenger sprinter, it's set up for a carpet cleaning business...Are you interested?
IamtheEdwardCullen: CylaRose: Maybe...really? You'll just hand her over?
CylaRose: IamtheEdwardCullen: We don't need it, we're not in that business anymore, so sure. What's you're offer?
IamtheEdwardCullen: CylaRose: Can I direct message you?
CylaRose: IamtheEdwardCullen: Yes
Cyla was freaking out. This was Robert Pattinson tweeting her. Tweeting HER. Shit! Originally, she'd been kidding. She hadn't intended on trying to actually sell it, but now that she had a potential buyer- mainly him, she'd sell at any offer, even if it was taking a cut. It'd been sitting in her driveway taking up space since her family- sister, two brothers and parents- had started a ice cream shop, the Sprinter wasn't necessary anymore. Her phone chimed with an incoming message.
From IamtheEdwardCullen to CylaRose:
Hey Cyla, thanks for responding! I was just throwing it out there, not really expecting anything to come from it. Kind of crazy, really. Anyway, so, some info on the Sprinter. Year, make, mileage, color, asking price. I see you're in Dallas, Texas.
Anxious to hear back from you.
From CylaRose to IamtheEdwardCullen:
Sure, it's a 2009 white Mercedez Benz Sprinter, with just under 75,000 miles. I've seen a bit older ones go for just under 24,000, but I'll give you a deal at 25500. We are in Dallas. Pictures are attached. Let me know.
From IamtheEdwardCullen to CylaRose:
Thanks for the pictures, they're great. I'd like to fly into Dallas and take a look at it within the next week, if that'd work for you?
From CylaRose to IamtheEdwardCullen:
Name your time and place. I'm flexable.
From IamtheEdwardCullen to CylaRose:
Great. Thanks for your patience. I'll be in contact.
And that was it. As much as she would love for it to happen, she didn't expect it. She went about her day, then week, forgetting about his offer, only being reminded when she looked in her direct message box with a sigh. So close, yet so far. Hell would freeze over before Robert Pattinson flew to Dallas to buy her vehicle. A cold day in hell.
Well, that cold day in hell came. It came twelve days after their original messaging, with the chime from her phone, signaling a direct message over twitter. Turning away from her desk in her home office, she quickly opened the app on her iphone, and read his message.
From IamtheEdwardCullen to CylaRose:
Apologies for the latness, Cyla. I hope the Sprinter is still available?
She messaged him back immediately, then froze. She didn't want to seem too eager. She waited, glancing at the clock. Wait, she told herself, still unmoving, hazel eyes darting from the phone to the clock and back again. She felt her anxiety rise, her stomach knotting and twisting. Three minutes later, she caved.
From CylaRose to IamtheEdwardCullen:
No problem, it is.
From IamtheEdwardCullen to CylaRose:
Are you free this Saturday, say, quarter to four?
Shit, she was going to hyperventilate. Fuckfuckfuckfuck, she thought. Hell yes.
From CylaRose to IamtheEdwardCullen:
Yes, what did you have in mind?
Ohgodohgodohgod, she was so nervous, she was pacing her office, hands shaking with excitement. Had to get it all out now. Could not let it show Saturday.
From IamtheEdwardCullen to CylaRose:
My flight into Dallas arrives then, from L.A. I was thinking maybe I could have your phone number, and a picture of you, so we can meet at the baggage claim? I'll have an 818 number, and a friend.
Fuck. A friend? A girl friend, or guy friend? She closed her eyes and sighed, trying to check herself back into reality. Of course it'd be a girlfriend. Who wouldn't want quality time driving twenty hours back to L.A. with a beautiful member of the opposite sex? She shook her head, and gave him the information he'd requested, along with a good recent photo of herself. It wasn't nude, as much as she'd have wanted to. She smirked at the thought. On the other hand...No. No, she needed to focus and decide on what to wear to the airport on Saturday. She wanted to be cute, but not show off-y. Definitely not the Dallas cowgirl stereotype either. Maybe a cute halter sundress, a floppy straw hat, low pigtails and big sunglasses. Yes, that would work. She had the perfect dress. Well, Saturday was two days away, and she already had her outfit planned. Fortunately it wasn't too cool yet for a dress. It was still low eighties in September. But she'd grab a sweater, just in case.
She had just stepped out of her usual salon, freshly waxed above and below her brown leather belt, and her mani/pedi a perfect shade of light coral to match the color of her dress and strappy wedge sandals. Climbing back into her car- an Audi S7 sedan in black, and began her drive to the airport. Her friend Macy was going to drive the Sprinter to a place called Founder's Plaza, and they would all meet, so he could see the vehicle, then continue on their ways. She had to admit she was nervous, her stomach back in knots. As she parked in the ramp, her phone sounded with a text message chime. She turned off the ignition and read the text. It was him, from an 818 number, just like he said.
Just deplaned
She texted him back- I'll be there
She exited out of the text app, and pulled up her notepad and made a note of her parking space. She reapplied her lip gloss, slid her sunglasses off and into her purse, and climbed out, locking it behind her as she made her way to the baggage claim. When she found the right carousel, she took off her hat and held it with her purse clutched in her hands in front of her, scanning the crowd. Finally she spotted him. Even though he had a baseball cap pulled low, it was hard to miss everyone craning their necks to watch him as they passed by. Taking a deep breath, she walked confidently towards him, even though her heart was racing. Thank Christ the friend next to him was a guy. He was a little shorter than Rob, and movie star good looking, but she didn't recognize him. They had two small suitcases between them. She saw Rob turn, scanning the crowd, and when he spotted her, she gave him a warm smile. He returned it, elbowed his friend as he nodded in her direction, and made his way towards her. She carefully wiped her palms on her dress behind her hat as he stopped in front of her, his face glorious with the day old scrub and his perfect smile.
"You must be Cyla Rose," he said, shaking her hand lightly.
"Which makes you I am theEdward Cullen," she said, her smile widening.
He nodded with a chuckle, glancing down at his shoes, then looking up at her. "Ah, yeah."
She was sad when she had to break the contact with him, but she didn't want to seem desperate, even though she could fall at his feet if he said go. He was so much more handsome up close and personal, in casual clothes. She just wanted to rip his clothes off- shit. She tightened her grip on her hat and purse to keep her hands under control. "This is my friend and trip companion Allen," Rob said with a smile.
"Hello, Allen," she greeted politely. He was blonde haired, tan with blue eyes and flourescent white teeth, killer dimples and a surfer's body in jean shorts and a graphic tee.
"Cyla Rose," he smiled with a nod.
She let go of his hand. "Y'all can call me Cyla," she said with a smile. "Shall we?" she asked.
They grinned. Allen said, "I love your accent."
"Why, thank you," she thickened it for just that sentence, throwing a smile and a wink at them over her shoulder as they followed closely. "How was the flight?"
"Good," they both said together.
"Great," she said. "So I figured it'd be best if we went to a nearby park so y'all can look at the Sprinter. My friend Macy is there with it right now, it's a five minute drive, on the other side of the airport. No pressure or anything. It's got a great view of a runway, and there's a speaker that let's you listen to the radio tower," she told them with a smile. They were now one on either side of her, watching her with smiles, pulling their luggage. "Oh, listen to me ratlin' on. Are you hungry at all? I should have brought a pic nic." She dug her sunglasses out of her purse and slid them on as they both pushed open a door to the ramp.
"No, thank you, we ate before our flight," Allen said.
"Okay," she said, relieved. She scolded herself for not thinking about that earlier. She pulled her keys out of her purse and unlocked the car.
"This is yours?" Allen asked, his eyes lighting up.
"Yes," she said, opening her door, watching Rob circle and open the passenger, and Allen opening the back passenger. They all sat and buckled, Allen sitting in the middle of the back seat.
"Nice ride," he said.
"Thank you," she said with a smile, as she started the engine, then began navigating her way through the ramp to the exit. "Have either of you ever been to Dallas before?" she asked, trying to get Rob to talk. She wanted to hear his accent so badly.
"I have, but of course I was born in the States," Allen spoke up first. Come to think about it, she wanted to hear Rob so bad that Allen was starting to grate on her nerves, always talking first. Shut the hell up Allen, she thought, hoping Rob would speak. Speak without trying to hide his accent.
"I have, but never out of the airport," Rob admitted.
Oh god, there it was. She nearly melted in her seat.
"You were born and raised here in Dallas?" he continued.
God he sounded amazing. Warm velvet wrapped around a killer accent. She could die happy listening to him talk. She glanced at him, pretending to look out through the windshield, but really, behind her glasses, she was eying him. His lips were full, and would put money on the fact they molded perfectly, and tasted sweet. And then, the jaw porn. She'd heard about girls wanting to run their tongue along his jawline, but she couldn't understand it because it would be like licking sand paper. But now, now she did, and she didn't give a damn about the sand paper. She would scrape her tongue raw without two thoughts. She glanced back, out her window quickly, trying to distract herself from soaking her panties. Thank god she'd worn them, she honestly contemplated not.
"Yes, well, I grew up in East Texas, in a town called Tyler, closer to the Louisiana border, but I came to Dallas for college, and stayed to start my first business. Sold that, which is why I have the Sprinter up for sale."
"I could listen to you talk all day," Allen said, his voice so close to her right ear, she could feel his breath. She was going to have to smack this boy, she thought to herself, so she gripped the steering wheel tighter. But, being raised with manners, she had to accept his compliment. Accept with without leading him on.
"Aw, aren't you just made of sugar," she said dryly. She heard Rob chuckle. She finally pulled into the lot, and saw the Sprinter parked. Taking a space one away, she turned off the car and got out. Now Macy, Macy was one to go all out with the stereotype. She came bounding around the vehicle, brown cowboy boots, short jean cutoff shorts, with the pockets showing and all, and a plaid sleevless buttonup, tied above her navel. Her brown hair was pulled back into a messy ponytail, below the brown cowboy hat on her head, her brown eyes shining. Cyla went to meet Macy with a hug, and held out her hand for they keys, which Macy dutifully dropped into her open palm.
"Macy, meet Allen and Robert, the gentlemen who are interested in the Sprinter. Robert, Allen, this is my best friend Macy." She glanced at Allen, who looked like he'd died and gone to Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader heaven. His eyes were widened, mouth slightly open, stairing at her. Cyla couldn't help but feel smug. She glanced over at Rob, to see his reaction to her. He surprised her. He was looking at her. She suddenly felt the temperature rise, and she glanced away.
"Well, lets have a look." She walked past Rob, towards the Sprinter. She knew he'd turned and followed, leaving Allen behind. She stopped by the still open driver's door that Macy had left open. "Wanna go for a spin?" She asked, dangling the keys out in front of her. She was rewarded with a smile.
"Let's go, leave them here," he suggested.
"Why, aren't you just made of sugar too?" she smiled, but her tone was completely different. He picked up on it.
"Among other things," he said, giving that famous crooked grin. He tossed his head towards the Sprinter, and climbed in. She turned and rounded the vehicle, and as she passed Macy, she tucked her car keys into her hand.
"Y'all might wanna move, we're going 'round," she said so they both would hear. She continued on towards the passenger door and climbed in, a moment later she saw them occupying the bench through Rob's window, still stairing at eachother. "Farm Barbie meets surfer Ken," she said with a chuckle, shaking her head.
"He seems pretty taken with your friend," Rob said, before putting the vehicle in reverse. He threw his right arm behind her headrest and twisted around, backing into the open parking lot. She let him straighten out and leave the lot before she asked her one burning question.
"And she with him." She paused, taking a breath. "You don't have to answer, and I know it's none of my business, but why do you want this vehicle?" She held her breath and prayed he answered.
"I want to persue my music more, and I need something to carry my equipment," he said simply. "You look like you had something else in mind," he said after a moment.
She laughed. "It was just the last answer I expected, that's all," she admitted. "Believe me, I'm glad you're looking at this one, but there wasn't one closer to you?"
"There was one in Las Vegas I was considering, but the mileage was too high for what they wanted for it. And I liked that you were willing to negotiate," he said, aiming that crooked grin at her. She was pretty sure her heart skipped a beat, and her breath hitched.
"Yes," she breathed, trying to calm her nerves. "Take the ramp here," she pointed to the right side exit.
He nodded. "And since we're on the topic of negotiation," he said, leaving it hanging. She slid her glasses down her nose and looked at him over the top rims.
"I'm listening," she said, her stomach twisting.
"How about I give you twenty five, and buy you dinner tonight?" Her eyes grew wide, and her mouth dropped open to form an O. "Any restaurant you choose." When she still hadn't recovered, he continued. "We can leave those two behind. That is, if you're available."
She could tell he was nervous, the way his voice grew quiet towards the end. Shit. Even if she was married she'd take his offer. But as her luck would have it, she was free as a bird.
"I- I'd love to. I'm available," she said. And there it went. Her panties were completely wet. That damn smile of his- that mega watt, eye crinkling grin. She would do anything for him, to see that smle again.
"Great," he said. "Where to now?"
"Oh, just drive," she sighed, taking off her sunglasses and slipping them into her purse. Unlady like, she slumped down in her seat and kicked up her feet, her calves resting on the dash, her dress falling to mid thigh. She saw him look at her, his eyes sweeping down her body and back up again. With a chuckle, he continued on his way.
"You're very beautiful, and refreshing," Rob said.
"Thank you. You're not so bad yourself," she threw him a smile.
"You're not fake beautiful, like the girls in L.A. And your accent is very-" he paused.
She looked at him, waiting to continue. She quirked an eyebrow at him. He glanced back at her quickly, then smiled before looking back at the road.
"Seductive," he finished.
"Really? I thought yours was the killer," she admitted.
He laughed. "Oh no," he said, shaking his head, then ran his hand through his hair.
Fuck. She'd forgotten about his hair. An image of his hair between her thighs flashed through her head, and she blinked sharply. What the-?
"Here, take a left," she told him. He nodded and complied, pulling into another little park, this one slightly secluded with trees, trails branching off in different directions. "You can turn around and head back." He only nodded, but parked, killing the engine.
She could only watch him, holding her breath.
"I'm not quite ready to head back. I have a twenty hour drive with him coming up. We're best mates, but he can really annoy me sometimes," he said, turning in his seat towards her. Her heart faltered. "Can we check out the back? It drives great so far," he said.
She could only nod, then mechanically opened the door and went to the back. He opened the back doors, and looked around inside. She tried desperately to keep it professional, or she was going to loose it and jump him in the parking lot.
"It only had one owner before me, and I only used it a couple times," she told him, unsure of her voice. She stood speecheless as he lifted a knee and began to climb inside. She could only watch his ass as he crawled hands and knees towards the front. When he was well guarded by the dark limo-tinted windows, he turned, and waived his hand towards her, motioning for her to join him.
"Well fuck me silly," she said so quietly he wouldn't hear. She had to make this good. It was do or die, now or never. She hitched up her dress slightly, then climbed into the Sprinter on her hands and knees like he had, going slowly, making sure to give him a show of her breasts shifting, barely covered by her dress, and her hips sway.
"Close the doors?" he asked.
She paused, sat back on her heels and pulled the doors closed.
He looked around. "This is nice," he said. "For a van." He looked straight at her, holding her eyes with his. "Come," he said softly. And she nearly did. She could feel it in her thighs, and her belly. She could feel it dripping down her legs, smearing as her thighs brushed together as she crawled. She stopped in front of him, not moving for a moment, their eyes locked. She sat back on her heels again, waiting for him to make the next call. "Seems I should christen it properly," he said, reaching a hand up and caressing her right cheek.
She couldn't help her reaction even if she'd tried- her eyes slid shut and her head pushed slightly into his palm. She felt his thumb move over and back across her cheekbone, then he began to lead her forward by a fingertip under her chin, a little closer. She trusted him, her eyes shut, not really wanting to see, but feel. The next sensation shot shock waves straight through her, down to her already wet pussy. His lips had brushed hers once, twice.
"Is this okay?" he asked, his voice raspy and quiet.
"Yes," she breathed. That was all it took. Their lips crashed, and the frenzy began. Hands roamed everywhere forcefully- his down her sides to cup her ass and press her against him, hers went straight for his hair, holding his mouth against hers. Their kiss deepened, breaths erratic.
He pulled away from her mouth and began kissing her jawline up to her ear. "God I've wanted to touch you so badly," he murmured against her skin. She shivered, raking her nails gently over his scalp.
"So many times I've gotten myself off thinking of you," she admitted, panting as his teeth and lips nibbled her ear.
"Really?" he asked.
"Mmhm," she hummed.
"How am I compairing?" He moved his mouth down the column of her neck to lay kisses along her collar bone.
"Mmmmm...no compairison. The real things is so much better already," she moaned as his hands squeezed her ass. Her hips bucked against him.
"Already?"
She could only chuckle. She didn't want to talk, so she tried to distract him by reaching for the hem of his t-shirt, and shifting it up his body. He let her pull it off, his mouth leaving her skin for only a millisecond.
She gasped when he pushed the dress material and bra aside and took her left nipple in his mouth, her back arching against him, her fingernails digging into his biceps. He brought a hand up and uncovered her right, twisting and flicking it until she was writhing in front of him. She had to move this along, or she would combust. She slid her hand between them, and caressed him through his jeans. He seemed to be a good size, and was eager to see him. Fuck the world, she was about to screw Robert Pattinson. She smled into his hair, inhailing as her other hand roamed his muscled torso. He was perfect. Not overly muscled, but toned and defined. Her hand on his jeans picked up it's pace and applied more pressure. His hand on her breast took the cue and slid down her body, and up under her dress. He moaned when he found her soaked panties. He caressed her softly a couple times, then slid the wet fabric aside and slid in two of his fingers. Her hips bucked against his hand, and her hands flexed against his skin, releasing a moan.
"You feel amazing," he said, his mouth leaving the nipple and travelling through the valley of her breasts to her other, to take her nipple between his lips, swirling it with his tongue. Her body temperature spiked as she brought both her hands between them, and began to undo his belt. His fingers slid in and out of her quickly, then his thumb hit the magic button. She came hard around his fingers, squeezing him like a vice. "Come on me, Cyla," he whispered against her. "I have to taste you now. Let's switch spots, you sitting on the center console," he said, removing his fingers from her. As she began to comply, she saw him slip his fingers into his mouth, his eyes closing as he tasted her. God it was so hot, she thought, quickly sitting between the seats. He ran his hands up her calves, over her knees, and up her thighs, stairing at her wet panties the entire time. She was then grateful for choosing purple silk, and having visited the salon earlier in the day. She couldn't believe the expression on his face. His eyes were hooded, darkend like storm clouds with lust, his lips parted slightly, panting. He reached up under her skirt and took a hold of her ruined underware and slowly pulled them down her legs. She had to close them slightly, and wiggle her shoe through to get them to hang around her left ankle. He parted her knees again, and slid closer to her, his hands on the top of her thighs. She watched him glance up at her through his lashes, that crooked smile toying his lips. She was a goner. "Ready?" he asked.
She could only nod and watch, her body quivering with anticipation. His hands slid up to the crease of her legs, pushing her dress up around her waist, and falling around the console behind her. His thumbs spread her pussy open, and he slowly leaned forward and took a long, slow lick, from the bottom to the top. She moaned loudly, fighting the urge to wrap her legs around his neck. She looked down, and there was the exact same image that had passed through her mind minutes before. She felt herself drip fresh moisture, and he groaned as his tongue swirled around her entrance, picking up every drop. He pressed farther into her, his tongue sliding in and out of her, his upper teeth grazing her sensitive clit. She fisted her hands in his hair, which was softer than it looked. Her head tilted back against the drivers seat as he feasted on her, his mouth so talented, alternating between being tongue fucked, her clit being flicked with the end of his tongue, or the flat of it being run around her folds. God he felt fantastic. She moaned as he picked up his speed.
"Come in my mouth," he hold her, his lips caressing her clit. "Let me drink you," he murmured against her, then his tongue moved to flick her clit again, then down to circle her entrance before diving in. Her muscles clenched, prepairing for release. "Please, Cyla," he sounded desperate, like nothing was more important to him than drinking from her. With one final thrust of his tongue inside her, her body rocked and became rigid, her hips rolling against his face as the most intense orgams she'd ever had ripped through her. Stars bloomed behind her lids, his name a scream from her lips as his mouth worked her through the orgasm. She had to move her hands to the seats, in fear she'd rip his hair out. She whimpered and panted, coming down from the rediculous high. After a moment, she was finally able to open her eyes to look at him. He was sitting there in front of her, his knees spread but drawn up, his forearms resting on his knees, and the smuggest smile known to man was on his face. It still glistened with her wetness. "You know, I've never been so close to begging for a woman's release before," he told her. "You taste like honey." He shifted up onto his knees in front of her, cupping her face, moving in for a kiss. She kissed him willingly, their tongues mingling, and she could taste herself, mixed with him. It definitely was a heady combination. As they kissed, her hands roamed down to his jeans and undid the button, then the zipper. "I didn't plan," he began, pulling away from her just enough to see each others eyes. His grey eyes searching hers. She knew then there was nothing she would deny him.
"I'm clean and on the pill, but I have a condom in my purse. You'll have to check the date on it," she said with a smile.
"I'm clean also," he said. She nodded, not really caring. She managed to get his jeans partway down his hips, but he was caught in all the fabric. She worked to free him as they kissed, his hands roaming her body greedilly. When he was clear, she stroked him, measuring. He was big, bigger than any she'd had before. Of course he would be though, just another item on his list of perfection. She got his jeans to his knees, not able to get them any farther down, and just felt him. Stroking his long shaft, velvet under her fingers, then down slowly to caress his balls. He moaned into her mouth, and she knew he liked this. She fondled him firmer, and his hips thrust forward, poking her in the stomach with his solid erection. She ran her hands over his firm ass, then came around to his front to wrap her hands around him, guiding him to her. When she felt him at her entrance, he plunged inside her, stretching her, hips colliding with hips. There was no slow on this speed, but he took enough time to swivel his hips occasionally, rubbing his pelvic bone against her clit, the tip of his cock hitting that spot deep inside her. Moaning again, she locked her ankles behind his waist, letting him set the pace. She'd never been so full before, he was glorious. He moved faster, his mouth leaving open kisses along her neck and collarbone.
"Faster," she panted, feeling the familiar build up. He did as asked, pulling out almost completely before thrusting into her. "Shit you feel good," she mumbled into his neck, her fingers threaded into his hair. Her words seemed to spur him on, as he moved faster still. "Fuck," she said, right on the edge. He swiveled his hips again, that spot being met, and she clenched around him.
"Yes," he hissed, not stopping his rhythem as she exploded around him. "Here I go," he growled, stilling, balls deep inside her.
She could feel him pulsing inside her, and it made her clench him even harder. Tremors shook through him, and she glanced at his face, his eyes squeezed shut tightly, his jaw tensed with the force of his orgasm. She knew his fingers were going to leave marks in her hips, but couldn't find herself really caring.
They clung to eachother for a moment, catching their breath.
"That was-" he paused, his forehead resting on hers. "I've never felt anything-"
"Me neither," she said, her voice ringing with the honest to goodness truth.
After a moment, they disentangled themselves, and redressed. She ran a hand over her hair, remembering her pigtails. She pulled them out and shook her head, her mahogany hair cascading down her back. She ran her fingers through it, then divided it, putting the pigtails back in.
"I like your hair down too," he said from behind her. She turned at the waist and looked at him with a smile.
"Thanks," she said. "But we don't need so many tell-tale signs," she winked at him, and flattened her dress, adjusting the halter that had never been untied.
"We should get back," she said slowly. He nodded, and they climbed out of the back and rounded to the doors, climbing in.
They talked about his current music project, and his upcoming plans, and the small tour he was going to use the van for.
As they pulled back into the parking lot, they found Macy and Allen still talking, their knees touching and holding hands, heads tilted together as if they were sharing some secret.
"What would you like to do now?" she asked, daring to hope that coming fresh off their romp didn't retract the dinner offer. She couldn't face him, in case of rejection.
"Well, I think we should see what they want to do- they'd probably like some alone time also," he said, his crooked grin returning.
She caved and looked at him after hearing it in his voice. Returning his smile, she nodded. "Alright."
They climbed out of the van and went to their friends.
"I thought you guys'd be gone longer," Allen said with a smirk. "How'd it go?"
Cyla caught the double meaning question aimed at Rob.
"Drives like a dream." He smiled innocently. Allen raised an eyebrow. "We were wondering what you were wanting to do. I told Cyla I'd take her out to dinner if she knocked five hundred dollars off the price, so we need to stay that late. I was wondering if you'd mind, maybe going together, but sitting at different tables? Or I'm sure there's something you can find to do for a couple hours." He grinned at his friend.
"What would you like to do Macy? Stay in or go out?" Allen looked at Macy.
She giggled. "If you don't mind, I'd like to stay in," she answered him sweetly. "We can go to my place," she suggested.
"Sounds great." Allen smiled at Macy, then turned his attention to Rob. "You heard her, we're going to her place."
"Alright, you take the Sprinter, we'll take her car and go out." Agreements all around, Cyla got her keys back from Macy, and Rob gave his keys to Allen.
Parting ways with their friends, they got into her car. She turned to him expectantly.
"Let's go eat."
"Okay then." She started the car and backed out.
"What are you thinking?" he asked, looking at her curiously.
"Well, the restaurant I want to go to is in a mall. It's one of my favorites." As they headed for the Galleria, they talked about his upcoming projects, and getting to know each other.
She parked by the door she knew to be closest to the restaurant, and led him inside, not knowing what to expect. She tensed, the fight or flight adrenaline running high.
"Relax," he said, leaning in towards her. "It shouldn't get too crazy."
She could hear the smirk in his voice, but didn't dare look at him. She was too busy looking around, seeing everyone stopping dead in their tracks and gaping at them, or pointing and whispering with their companions. She felt him take her hand as they strolled towards the restaurant. It was strange to her that he wasn't in more of a rush.
"This is a nice mall," he said conversationally.
"Yeah, it's got a lot of great stores. Here we are," she motioned to the doors.
He reached for one and held it open for her, then letting it close silently behind him.
"Two please," he told the hostess.
She mimicked a fish, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly.
Rob flashed her a smile, snapping the lady out of her trance. She grabbed two menues and led the way to their table.
"You're server will be with you shortly," she said, backing away, her eyes never leaving him.
They sat as he laughed quietly at the lady's behavior.
"I bet you get that a lot," Cyla commented.
"Yes," he sighed, opening and browsing the menue laid flat on the table.
Not a moment later, their server appeared, bearing a tray of two glasses and a pitcher of ice water. They placed their beverage order, glancing back at the menue.
"If this is your favorite place, what would you recommend?" He looked up at her through his lashes, her heart skipping a beat.
"The steaks are amazing, and the seafood is next. Can't loose with either of those," she told him with a smile. He nodded, then tried to decide. She sipped her water, knowing what she wanted. When the server returned and then sent away with their orders, they finally got to talk again. They talked about the pros and cons of his job, and what he liked the most and least.
It was then, before their food was served, that they were inturrupted for the first time, and not by the restaurant. A couple of women, in their fifties maybe, approached the table, nudging each other like a couple of giggly teenagers.
"Please excuse us, but Mr. Pattinson, would you be so kind as to sign something for us? We're big fans of your work, and so are our daughters." They laid a piece of paper on the table with a pen, waiting expectantly.
"Ah, sure," he said with a tight smile, his hand sliding through his hair before signing the paper, and another magically appearing paper.
"Thank you, enjoy your stay!" They said before returning to their table, not without glancing back a few times.
"Sorry about that," he told Cyla.
"No worries, it's all part of the experience," she said with a smile.
"Experience, huh?"
"I would say being out in public with you is an experience, yes."
He laughed quietly. "I suppose it is. Anyway, before we were inturrupted, you were going to tell me about your job, and how you manage to drive such a nice car," he said with a grin.
She told him the highlights of her unglamourous job, owning and managing an ice cream parlor.
"Best job ever," he said with a grin.
"I do get all the ice cream I can eat," she said with a crooked smile.
He nodded, then glanced up as their food arrived.
After reassuring the server that everything appeared as ordered, they returned to their conversation. The topic changed to their childhood, and where they grew up, and what it was like, and the differences between them. They each shared a funny story as they finished their food.
Again their server appeared, wanting to know if they were wanting dessert. Rob glanced at her, and she couldn't resist. She bit her lower lip and nodded shyly. He smiled and nodded towards the server.
"I'd like to try your strawberry shortcake, please," she told him. He disappeared immediately with their dinner plates.
"What do you think of this place so far?" she asked.
"It is really good," he agreed. "One of the best places, I think," he said with a crooked smile.
"I'm glad you liked it. I'd hate to take you to that one place in Dallas you hate in your ten minutes here," she said teasingly. "So when you drive back, you're taking the I-30 east to the 20, then 10 the rest of the way?"
"Yeah," he said, remembering she'd lived in Phoenix for a couple years, and knew the route. "It's a drive," he sighed.
"It is, but if you don't mind the desert, it's beautiful," she said wistfully.
The server brought out their dessert, the cake with two forks. She picked up both forks, and set one next to her. He raised his eyebrow at her. She just winked, and forked a bite size piece of cake and held it out to him.
"Open," she told him. He smiled, and obeyed. She fed him, her eyes watching his mouth. She fed him another couple bites, mesmerized by his slow movements. She knew he was playing along, but that was 90 percent of why she'd ordered the dessert. She wanted him once more before he left.
He finally grabbed the fork from her fingers with a wicked smile, turning the tables.
By the time the cake was gone, they were both so amped up, Rob asked for the check quickly and paid, without a second thought. He took her hand and led her quickly back through the restaurant, both of them walking as fast as they could to her car.
Jumping in, he panted, "nearest place?"
"Roof. No one goes up there unless it's Christmas," she said, throwing the car into reverse and speeding her way to the top.
As she thought, it was deserted. She parked right next to the stairwell in the middle of the lot, underneath the camera that surveyed it.
They scrambled into the backseat, their hands and mouths everywhere they could reach, clothes shed in seconds in piles on the floor.
With no interference between them, he slid his hand between her thighs and found her wet. She reached for him, tugging on him to enter her. Giving in, he filled her, his hands grasping her hips to hold her still. Their pace was frantic, an exhilarating race being in public and not getting caught.
He reached between them and circled her clit, and she was shattering. All the pent up energy made for a quick release.
He wasn't too far behind her, and her release triggered his. He pulled out at the last second, coming on her stomach. They sat and got their breath back, grins on their faces.
After a moment, he asked for tissues.
"Glove compartment," she told him lazilly. She got to enjoy the view of him reaching forward to the front of the car, digging for the kleenex bare assed. She sat on her hands to resist slapping him.
Finding them, he sat back down and began to clean her up gently. They rested another minute, watching each other.
"We'd better," she said quietly. He nodded in agreement.
They dressed, then climbed back up to the front seats. She began the short drive to Macy's house, and started conversation with him on what he thought they were doing, and if they'd caused any damage to her apartment. They knocked on her door, betting on how many things were broken.
Macy opened the door, her hair a rat's nest and wrapped in a robe.
"Shit. Can't y'all come back in a couple hours?" she pouted.
"Sorry Macy, they have stuff to do, places to go. You know that." Cyla carefully peeked her head in, hoping to not be flashed by Allen. When she deemed the coast clear, she stepped in past Macy, Rob a step behind her, and surveyed the place. A couple things knocked over, but not broken.
Cyla laughed. "No winner," she told Rob over her shoulder. He laughed too. Macy gave them a weird look. Cyla brushed her off.
"Allen, get dressed!" Rob called.
"Dammit!" was all they heard. They laughed, and waited a minute. Soon Allen came out, clothes and hair rumpled, a swaggar in his step. He slung an arm around Macy's shoulders. "Thanks, doll," he told her.
"Call me?" she asked him.
"Of course." He gave her a tender kiss on her cheek, then left the apartment. Rob and Cyla followed, leaving the door open a crack.
"Alright," Cyla sighed. "Everyone have the right keys?"
Rob glanced at Allen, who checked his pockets. "Check," he announced when he found them.
"Good. The title, signed and ready to be turned over, is in the compartment under the front passenger seat," she told them, mostly looking at Rob. He nodded in understanding. "I think that's everything," she said finally.
"I'll go look for the title," Allen said, giving them a moment.
"Thanks, Allen," Rob said quietly. As soon as he was out of sight, Rob pulled Cyla into his arms. "Thank you, for everything," he whispered into her hair.
"You're welcome, and thank you. Have a safe drive, okay?" she told him, pushing him away gently. It was the hardest thing she'd ever done.
"We will." He searched her eyes for something, what she didn't know.
"See you 'round." She kissed his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin. Taking a deep breath and a step back, she let him go.
"Sure." He hesitated, then reluctantly turned and disappeared.
When he was gone, she went back into Macy's apartment.
"Oh my God Cyla, Allen is so amazing! The best sex ever! He better call," she rushed, bombarding her. Macy hesitated, noticing Cyla's expression. "Are you going to see him again?" she asked slowly.
"I don't know. I didn't want to pressure him. He knows how to find me."
"Aw honey," Macy said, pulling Cyla in for a hug. "You're much stronger than I could be, letting him go."
"But I'm glad you found Allen," Cyla said, pulling away, trying to be happy for her friend. "I hope he calls, you seem great together."
"I know, right? He said he'd call, but you know how guys are."
"Yeah, yeah I do," she smiled sadly. "Hey. I'm gonna head out. See you tomorrow?"
"Sure, Cyla. Maybe I'll come check on you later. Bring some ice cream or something." She grinned at the joke.
"Like I don't have any of that," Cyla said with a half smile. "Later." She turned and left Macy's apartment, walked down the hall two doors, and unlocked her door. She would drown her misery in her stash of ice cream and Twilight movies until she fell asleep.