A/N: Well hello, friends! I really didn't think I'd be able to get this out today, but apparently, being organized works wonders for doing things in a timely manner, haha. At any rate, this update has been much-requested throughout the year, so I'm glad I could offer this as a sort of gift to you guys that are still with me after all this time. There's definitely a story to be continued here, so I do hope to get to that, maybe next year; maybe sooner! Anyway, thank you all so much for being a part of this whole... thing. Even when TWD isn't good, this fandom (mostly) is, and I love that about us. I hope you're having a happy day, whether you celebrate Christmas or not, and I wish you all a wonderful, Richonne-filled 2018! -Ash


Chapter 3: Public Relations

The drive home was awkward. No, that was an understatement. The tense, silent ride was torturous. Rick flew down I-75 as quickly as his BMW would allow, counting down the exits to 248C; and the Christmas music playing only seemed to exacerbate the awkwardness, with both of them seeming to know what was coming at the end of the trip. The only reason he hadn't said anything yet was because he didn't want to have some conversation and still have to ride home afterward. He was going to wait until they were all of five minutes away from their destination.

"You lost a cufflink," Jessie quietly commented. She'd been watching his hand on the steering wheel for minutes now, absently, for the most part, until the lack of the shiny adornment seemed to catch her eye. She checked his left arm just to make sure she wasn't misremembering in her tipsiness. But he'd made such a big deal about wearing those specific David Yurman ones because they matched his suit, so it was certainly noticeable when one seemed to have gone missing.

Rick only glanced at her, perplexed by the declaration, as if she'd spoken to him in German. "Huh?"

"Your right cufflink is gone," she clarified, a small sigh following her words.

"Oh." He studied his wrist, noticing it for the first time, but unsurprised by the news. After everything he'd done with Michonne that night, he was more surprised that that was the only thing missing. "Hmm. I'll have to ask Lori if she finds it in the house."

Jessie was concerned with what else Lori would find around her house if her suspicions were correct, and her stomach churned at the thought. "I'm sure you'll figure it out," she submitted dryly. She traded his unadorned wrist for the view in front of them as he exited the highway and took to Freedom Parkway – luckily, that meant it wouldn't be long until she was free from that stuffy car.

"Well," Rick cleared his throat, stalling; trying to find the words to say this shitty thing he had to say. "Since we're talkin', I guess I might as well get this out."

She turned her body in his direction, bracing herself for the impact of whatever it was.

"You've been... good to me," he said. He was glad his eyes had to stay on the road so he had an excuse not to look at her as he stated this. "And you and I had a good time together..."

Jessie's dark eyebrows knitted into a frown when she realized that this wasn't some confession of sins he was offering up. He was breaking up with her.

"...But the truth is, I was never in this for the long term, and I was fooling myself thinkin' that I could try. And I realize that after tonight." His voice went low as he said the next part: "After I met someone."

"Wow," she scoffed in disbelief, mostly hoping she was imagining all of this. It had to be some kind of hallucination after too much bourbon, right? Because surely this man that she'd been with for nearly a year wasn't breaking up with her less than a week before Christmas. That couldn't have been what was happening. "The biggest part of me wants to think this is some kind of joke, but... I guess the other part saw this coming. You embarrass me by disappearing repeatedly, come back to me smelling like another woman, and instead of confronting that fact, I literally hold my breath." She sneered again, shaking her head – mainly at herself. "You're an asshole, but... I guess that makes me a dumbass."

"Jess, I didn't mean for it to happen like this," he replied in a hoarse, contrite whisper. "I mean... Not that I planned for this to happen at all."

"Yeah, no, you just do whatever the hell you want. Consequences be damned, because you never have to suffer them."

"It's not like that. It's - it's not even you. It's me. I need... something else."

She shook her head once more, uninterested in entertaining his explanations – not that he was even giving her the courtesy of having one. He was breaking up with her for a woman he'd met a few hours ago. So all she really heard was that the many months they'd spent getting to know each other meant nothing to him. "You don't have to say anything else," she sighed. If her feet didn't already hurt in the heels she was wearing, she would've asked to get out of the car right there on the side of the road. "I dunno how you do this to someone," she mused, muttering to herself.

"I'm sorry it happened this way," Rick offered. A meaningless platitude, he knew, but there was nothing that could really soften the blow here. There's no nice way to say, Yeah, I'm leaving you for another woman. "I really am…"

"Well I hope you two are happy together," Jessie said, her tone devoid of any emotion by then. "Until you inevitably decide that you're bored with her, too."


Meanwhile, in the ritzier area of town, Michonne was sitting outside of Pete's condo under the guise of collecting her makeup bag, trying to figure out how to have a similar conversation with him. On the ride home, he'd insisted on listening to the latest episode of This American Life instead of anything she might've had to say. He probably already knew what she had to say, and it annoyed her to no end, seeing he was obviously going to make this difficult for her. But it shouldn't have surprised her, because Pete made everything difficult.

With a heavy sigh, she forced herself out of her car, just her purse in tow, and trudged inside. She sweetly greeted the doorman and other passing neighbors before heading up to the 37th floor. When she entered the lavish apartment, it was suspiciously quiet, not to mention, dark, with all but a few of the kitchen lights turned off. She listened for sounds coming from other rooms – a shower running, perhaps, or drawers closing. But no, nothing. She continued to his bedroom, where she found him already in bed, either pretending to be asleep or he'd found a way to actually drift off in the five minutes she'd been downstairs. Either way, she was miffed. He had to do everything in his power to get undressed and get to bed that quickly. What an asshole.

Another exasperated exhale flew from her lips as she turned out of the room and headed back to living area, deciding she would sleep there for the night. She wouldn't even bother with taking off her dress or makeup – just her earrings and shoes – and settled into the couch with Netflix. He wouldn't be able to avoid her there – so she thought.

But the next morning came, and Pete had, indeed, avoided her. She awoke with the sun, which was later than her typical rise time of 5:30. She thought surely she would've been up in time to catch him before he left; instead, she was sleeping soundly, dreaming about one Rick Grimes and all the filthy things she'd done with him the night before. Replaying all the big and little moments – him fingering her before they fucked, her swallowing his cum, what he felt like inside her; but also the chaste kisses he left on her shoulder after they finished, and the way his eyes glimmered in the moonlight. She still couldn't believe she'd allowed herself to be swept away by a stranger like some kind of rookie. She knew better, and still, she refused to stop thinking about this man.

Even when she opened her eyes to Pete's apartment, the only thing on her mind was where Rick might've been. Had he ended it with his girlfriend? Or had his efforts been thwarted like hers? Was he thinking about her, too? Did he still smell like her? She desperately needed a shower herself, but she wasn't ready to be rid of his scent.

"That's gross," Michonne chuckled to herself, forcing her body from the warm couch and her mind to stop wandering. It wasn't until she got up that she noticed the aroma of coffee permeating the giant room. She could see the full pot of brew as she circled the sofa, and any other morning, she would've gone right for it. This morning, however, she headed into the bedroom instead. To pack.

Not that she kept much at this place – she never quite felt comfortable there. She had a dedicated drawer in his dresser, but only brought herself to keep more than a few t-shirts and pajama shorts in it. Always bringing overnight bags when she planned to actually stay. She gathered her belongings in an orderly fashion – shoes and clothing items; then any toiletries and hair products; and lastly, her knickknacks, like phone chargers and earrings. Luckily, it all fit into her one little Gucci duffle. She'd spent nearly two years with this man and everything she got out of that relationship amounted to her belongings stuffed into a fancy gym bag.

On her way out, Michonne turned off the coffee and placed her key on the countertop before giving one last glance to the posh apartment she would undoubtedly miss. Sprawling views of the city that her house just couldn't provide. She'd gotten used to having a gym downstairs and a valet at her fingertips. But she wouldn't miss Pete, which was why she had no twinges of sadness or even regret as she turned out of the door. Only glee, really, as she thought about seeing Rick again. She even considered heading to her office to look up his personal information on LexisNexis, just so she wouldn't have to wait.

But then, as she headed down the corridor, smiling at all the festively decorated doors, she received a call herself, her phone quietly ringing and vibrating in her bag. Her first inclination was to ignore it, just in case it was Pete. But remembering it was Sunday morning, and how her mother liked to call her on the way to church, she decided to answer. She followed the sound until she could fish out her iPhone, but the caller ID displaying an unfamiliar number gave her pause. Was it just wishful thinking, or was there an actual chance it was Rick?

"Hello," she answered quietly and cautiously, her eyes darting around the hall as if she were being watched.

"Did I find you?"

Michonne inhaled sharply at the sound of his deep, soothing drawl, and her heart started beating so fast, she swore he'd be able to hear it. "Rick?" she asked, her voice hopeful despite knowing it was him.

"Michonne," he said it not as a question, but a statement, a smile in his voice as he confirmed it for himself. What a relief. "Hey."

"You found me," she grinned into the phone. She looked around one more time before leaning against the wall between the elevators. She didn't want to go downstairs just yet, fearing the call might drop.

"It wasn't easy," he joked. On his side of the call, he was sitting in bed, taking in the bright Sunday morning. He'd been counting down the minutes until it was an appropriate time to call, and he wasn't sure that 8:00 am was that time, but he couldn't wait any longer. "Turns out there are a lot of Michonne's in Atlanta."

"Are there really?" she frowned, finding that surprising.

"No," he chuckled. "I actually… I mean this might sound creepy, but I asked Lori to get your number from Pete."

"And he gave it to her?" Again, that didn't sound like it could be true.

"Well, Lori kind of hates him, so she really didn't want to. The creepy part is where it turns out you're his emergency contact. So that's how she was able to get it."

Michonne snorted, then giggled at the admission. "I'd prefer to call that inventive," she submitted, impressed, actually. "I googled you last night, so we're probably pretty close to even."

"Did you really?"

"I did. I thought surely I'd find you on Facebook once I got your last name, but since you're apparently the only person on the face of the planet without one, I was gonna give you a call at work tomorrow."

"Ah," he was also grinning into his phone, "yeah, I don't do social media. It seems… messy."

"Yeah, no, I was forced to get Facebook by my sister. But it's a nice way to keep up with my nieces, at least."

Rick chuckled quietly, thinking about how he wanted to hear more about her nieces. And everyone in her family and everything else they hadn't gotten to speak about before they saw one another naked. "I wanna see you," he declared, his voice soft, like the light streaming into his room. "As soon as you're free."

"How about now?" Michonne retorted almost instantly. Before she realized she was still in the same dress and makeup as last night. "Can you do breakfast somewhere? In like an hour?"

"That sounds... yeah," he laughed again, feeling giddy, like a kid on Christmas morning as he recognized that she was just eager to see him as he was her. He was already climbing out of bed and thinking about what he would wear. "Just name the place."


A little over an hour later, Rick and Michonne were seated at a corner table of Highland Bakery, a popular cafe in the Old Fourth Ward area of town. It was crowded, as it tended to be most weekends, but it was cozy. A perfect setting for Rick and Michonne to get to know each other – verbally, at least.

Of course, their attraction to one another was still quite palpable. Even as a more casual version of their former selves – both of them dressed in dark jeans, Rick wearing a light denim shirt that matched his eyes, while Michonne was in an oversized sweater that showed off her exquisite shoulders – they were finding it difficult to concentrate on anything but each other.

"All right," Rick said, throwing down the menu he'd barely glanced at; his eyes more focused on Michonne's exposed skin. Her red dress from the night before was hard enough to get over, but that ivory cashmere against her lovely dark brown complexion was something to behold. "I'm done lookin'. I know what I wanna eat."

"I'm not on the menu," she grinned back, having noted his hungry gaze. "I mean, not right now," she corrected herself. Because she had every intention of letting him devour her the next chance they got.

"Well shit." He couldn't help his smile as he picked up the menu one more time, but his eyes stayed on his date. "No, I really did decide on the sweet potato pancakes."

"I knew you were gonna get them," she shook her head.

"Well, after you stole the last cupcakes yesterday, I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"You didn't get any at the party?"

He gave her a knowing look with a raised eyebrow to match his cocky expression. "I mean… I got some," he quipped. "But not cupcakes, no."

"All right," she giggled, covering her face, as she could feel it growing warm with embarrassment. "You get way too much joy out of corrupting me."

"Oh, so it's just me?" His eyes were absolutely twinkling as he gazed at her. In fact, they were both so absorbed in one another, they hadn't noticed their server approaching until he was asking if they were ready to order.

"Oh," Michonne giggled again, returning to her menu to scan it one last time. "You go first," she told Rick.

"Okay, but this won't take very long. I'm gonna do a full order of the sweet potato pancakes," he submitted to their waiter. "Brown sugar butter on the side, please."

"Absolutely, sir," he nodded before looking to Michonne.

"Shit. Okay," she sighed, still undecided. There were so many options, and they were all so good. Normally, after a night of drinking and eating junk, she would get something on the healthy side. But Rick continually brought out her naughty side, it seemed. "I'm gonna have the sweet potato pancakes, too," she resolved after a few more seconds of debate. "Half order. No pecans. And can we get another round of cider?"

"Of course. I'm gonna put in your order and then get that right to you."

As they handed over their menus, Rick couldn't help but notice the way she pronounced the word, 'pecan.' Pee-can. Not at all what he was used to hearing in his neck of the woods, and it was the first time he considered she might not have been from Atlanta.

"I didn't even ask if you wanted any more cider," Michonne realized as their server disappeared. "Sorry."

"Well you're the one paying, so I'm happy to have another if you want me to," he grinned.

She shook her head at how silly he was. He made her smile. A lot. How terrifying.

"You weren't supposed to get the same thing I was getting," he appended, picking up his mug to finish what was left of his apple cider. "We're supposed to get different things and then share."

Michonne frowned at the thought, unsure why she'd share with someone when she was perfectly capable of getting what she wanted for herself. "I don't know if we know each other well enough for that," she declined, mostly jokingly. "That's a thing couples do, don't you think?"

"So you're sayin' we're not a couple yet?"

"You didn't know my last name before this morning."

"I think once you swallow someone's bodily fluids, you can skip formalities like surnames."

"Rick," she nearly shrieked, her big, beautiful eyes scanning the nearby tables to make sure no one heard him. "You're terrible." She playfully kicked him, but then found herself laughing again as he held her foot between his. "Rick…"

He had a wide, happy smile on his face, enjoying the way his name sounded on her lips. Those lips. He hadn't stopped thinking them all night, but his memory hadn't done them justice. As he gazed at her now, he couldn't stop thinking about kissing them again... "Bawdy jokes aside, I did think that's what we were agreein' to last night."

"I mean, I guess we kinda did," she granted, laughing at the very thought. "Of course, I was pretty intoxicated, so…"

"Were you really?" he asked, the disappointment in his voice apparent.

"I mean, not on alcohol. Just… being around you," she explained with a quiet, thoughtful simper. "I didn't feel like myself. I don't even remember a lot of last night, yet I can't stop thinking about it."

Rick bit his bottom lip in a failed attempt to contain his own grin. His heart dropped at the thought that she hadn't enjoyed whatever they'd shared as much as he had. Now, it was racing again. He couldn't remember the last time he felt like this – if he ever had. "So did you go home and break up with that asshole you called a boyfriend?"

She cocked her head to the side, her face scrunching up as she admitted that she hadn't. "See, what had happened was..."

"Michonne," he groaned, sitting back in his chair; finally releasing her foot in the process.

"No, he really… I couldn't," she sighed. "I wanted to do it in the car, but he didn't wanna talk. When we got back to his place, he was in bed by the time I came upstairs." She rolled her eyes for effect, mimicking the same things she felt the night before. "So I slept in the living room, thinking I'd catch him this morning, but he snuck past me."

"He scurried past you. Like a rat," Rick noted with a knowing smirk. "He knew you were gonna end it."

"I think he's scared," she acknowledged, her voice dropping an octave. "Which is silly, because we never actually did anything for each other. He didn't like me and I didn't like him."

"It's not possible to not like you," he interjected. His expression – his eyes, especially – said that he was serious. "And maybe under the threat of losing you, he's realizing how true that is."

She smiled bashfully, but shrugged at the idea of Pete realizing anything. "Somehow, I doubt that. But I just took all my stuff and left. I haven't decided whether to just let him figure it out, or if I should call him later, just so it's crystal clear."

"You can split the difference and text him..."

"That's poor form," she initially grimaced before reconsidering. "Isn't it?"

"Everything I saw from him last night tells me he's poor form," he laughed. "But I'm not good at breaking up, so if you're worried about manners, you shouldn't listen to me."

"It's too late to not listen to you," she smirked. "I'm already here."

He was beaming, utterly enamored with this woman. She had to be the most beautiful person he'd ever laid eyes on, and the fact that she was, indeed, there with him still blew his mind a bit. "In that case, I think you should do it."

"Do what?"

"Text him."

Michonne sighed, still unsure whether that was the proper course of action, tempting as it was. "While you're over there cajoling me to be terrible, did you break up with Jessie?"

"I did," he confirmed with a subtle nod. "I felt like an asshole, but after what you and I did, it would've been worse to let it go on any longer."

"Did she take it well?"

"Well as can be expected, I guess," he shrugged. "I dunno." He paused momentarily as their new cups of apple cider were served, waiting until their waiter was gone before continuing. "I always knew that we saw things pretty differently."

"That poor girl," Michonne shook her head sympathetically before taking a sip of her new drink. "She had no idea what to do with you, did she?"

"To be fair… I'm a bit of a handful."

She smirked as she reminisced, once again, about the events of the previous night. He was certainly a mouthful, if nothing else. "You're more than that, if I recall correctly." She watched, amused, as his entire face turned a bright shade of pink, and she was glad that she could make him react the same way he often did her. "I know it sounds cliché as hell to say, but I promise I'm not normally like that."

"Well that's disappointing," he teased, sipping from his cup again as he kept his eyes on her.

"I'm being serious," she smiled back. "Last night felt unreal. Like some kind of fairytale. ...An R-rated fairytale, but nevertheless."

"X-rated, probably."

Another laugh fell from her lips. She hadn't laughed this much in all the time she spent with Pete. "I dunno what's going on," she admitted, forcibly pulling her gaze from his face so that she could grab her phone from her purse. "Maybe I'm just desperate for something new in my life, or maybe, like I said yesterday, this is fate intervening. But you brought out something in me, Rick. My sense of adventure?" She shrugged, unable to pinpoint exactly what it was. "Somewhere along the way, I lost the spark that made me fun, and immediately, you brought it back."

"I'm glad I could help," he grinned. "And since we're layin' all our cards bare," he started, "I've never done anything like this either."

"Oh, yeah right," Michonne rolled her eyes playfully.

"I mean, yeah, I've had sex with strangers before," he granted. "But this whole you and me thing. I don't make promises or commitments or anything alluding to either one. But I'm bewitched." A smile showed on his entire face, claiming his cheeks and then his eyes. "I've never even used that word before," he chuckled. "But it's true."

"Rick…"

"I just wanna get to know you," he added in the softest of voices. His hand met hers on the table and he rested it on top of hers affectionately. "I wanna spend every minute with you that I can."

"I want that, too," she whispered, her thumb rubbing his.

"We should go... somewhere. Just get away for the rest of the year. You and me."

"Oh no," she whimpered, pulling back from him reluctantly. "Don't say that."

"Why can't I say that?"

"Because I can't go anywhere this year."

"You can't?"

"I really, really can't," she shook her head. "Shit."

"You have a trial or somethin'?"

"I have a family. A family that's gonna kill me if I miss another Christmas," she said, her face contorting into a pout. "I leave Wednesday and don't come back until after the new year."

He groaned, admittedly crestfallen, but he couldn't be mad that she needed to spend time with her family. His own mother would have a fit if she didn't see him for at least one of the big three holidays every year. He wanted to ask if by some chance, she wouldn't be traveling far. Perhaps he could drive to her on one of those uneventful days between Christmas and New Year's. But they had only known each other for 12 hours and he didn't want to come on too strong. Stronger than he already had, anyway. "Well," he sighed gently, "I guess that means we've gotta enjoy the time we have now."

"That's gonna be my mantra for 2016."

Rick grinned again, appreciating seeing her lighter, brighter side already. "Well what are you doin' today?"

"Aside from you," she smiled mischievously before shrugging. "I've got some Christmas shopping to do."

"Sounds good to me," he agreed, sitting back in his chair just as Michonne slid her phone across the table toward him. "What's this?"

"Read it."

Initially puzzled, he surveyed the screen as told, another smile forming when he realized that it was a text message conversation with Pete's name as the heading. And at the bottom of the exchange was a single text in a blue bubble – an outgoing message – that read: I'm sorry for doing this via text, but it seems you didn't want it any other way. As I'm sure you've figured out by now, we're at the end of our road. Thank you for keeping me company when I needed it. Take care.


"Oh, we should go into Saks," Michonne pointed out with her free hand as they approached the extravagant department store. "I need a new dress for this trip."

"You need? Or you want?" Rick chuckled, but he was happy to accompany her into the store. In fact, for the past two hours, he'd accompanied her into every store, from Tiffany's to Teavana, holding onto all of her bags while she went on a veritable shopping spree. And if they weren't a couple, it was hard to tell as they giggled and flirted their way through Phipps Plaza hand in hand. It was a scene straight out of a Christmas movie, where some cheerfully cheesy, yet apt song should've been playing on the soundtrack.

"I want," she admitted, dragging him into the store, "but I'm gonna be in Jersey, so it's quite likely we're gonna end up in the city for New Year's. And I do need a dress for that."

Rick stopped in his tracks, confused by this turn of events. "What's this about New Jersey?" he questioned her. He'd listened intently as she told him all about being from DC. He knew he hadn't gotten that wrong, because he'd been hanging onto every word she said. "I thought you were goin' home for Christmas."

"Oh, no, this year, Christmas is at my sister's house," she clarified. She laughed, amused at how he was so intent on getting all the details about her life right. She believed him when he said he wasn't like this usually. This was different. "She lives in the 'most expensive zip code in America.'" She rolled her eyes for effect, thinking of how many times she'd heard her brother-in-law broadcast that fact.

"That's impressive," he commented, though he couldn't help but note the apathy in her tone. "I mean, you live in the most expensive zip code in Atlanta."

"Do I?"

"Don't pretend you don't know that," he smirked, the two of them continuing into the swanky store. "Nothin' wrong with liking nice things."

She practically swooned at the way he said 'things.' His accent was going to be the fucking death of her. With so many transplants like herself, in the Atlanta area, it was hard to find a genuine southern accent like Rick's, attached to a face like his, along with a liberal point of view. "I'm perfectly comfortable with liking nice things," she told him, eyeing him to underline her point. "I just don't enjoy when people brag about it."

"So you mean you're not gonna go and tell your family all about me?"

"The jury's still out," Michonne admitted with a big, wearied sigh. "My sisters love teasing me because they haven't met anyone I've dated since college. They think I can't keep a man... like that's something to worry about," she scoffed. "But... I don't know that touting the guy I met yesterday would do anything for my case."

"Probably not," he granted with a little smirk, following her into the women's section of the store. "But just so you know, I'll definitely be telling my family about you."

Michonne's head snapped in his direction, pleasantly surprised by his declaration. "Are you really?"

"I am…"

She moved to stand in front of him, her smile wide as she contemplated if and how she could do the same. It sounded ridiculous, but… if she was going to leap, she might as well go all the way. "Okay then," she nodded, squeezing his hand. "I'll tell mine, too."

"You don't have to do that," he chuckled. He could see how nervous the notion made her. "It's all right if we take baby steps here."

"Pretty sure we're past baby steps," she shook her head, turning back to the rest of store, scanning the floor for the dress section. "Come. Help me pick out a dress."

"I owe you a dress," he remembered, absently running his fingers over the fabric of all the fancy ones they passed. When she looked back at him confused, he added, "For last night. We messed yours up."

"Oh yeah, you do."

The happy couple continued into the area containing cocktail dresses, Rick thumbing through the intimidatingly large selection, bypassing anything that went past the knee. Beyond that, his taste wasn't quite so discerning – from vivid colors to simple blacks, sequins to lace, he had an armful of just about everything.

"What... is this?" Michonne approached him with a giggle, pulling one of his bolder picks from the pile. It was a jaw-droppingly short, sequined silver dress with a deep V-neck that she would never wear in public.

"What? It's a dress," he laughed at her baffled and slightly horrified expression. "You said it's for New Year's, right?"

"Yeah, with my family," she scoffed, amused. "Not as an escort."

"Are you kidding me? You'd look amazing."

"Well, you're probably right about that," she granted with a cheeky smile, just before laughing at herself for agreeing. "But I can't."

"You could..." He looked her up and down, acknowledging the fact that she made something as simple as a sweater and jeans look sexy as hell. He knew very well that she could. "Try it on."

"You're such a terrible influence." She lost count of the number of times she'd shaken her head at him and his irresistible, charming way of getting her to do things she had no business doing. "I knew you were trouble when you walked in that bakery."

"And you haven't stopped smiling since," he also knew. He nodded toward the fitting rooms, coaxing her to take the dresses. "You should try 'em all on, but that one's the best one."

"Yeah, we'll see about that." As he started to hand over his armful of inventory, she stopped him, declining the items and grinning puckishly instead. "Come on."

"Oh." Rick was happy to accept the unexpected invitation and went on to follow her like a dutiful boyfriend, toting all her bags and clothes while she conferred with the dressing room attendant. Within seconds they were headed inside, and he was immediately struck by how much nicer it was than most fitting rooms he'd been in. Ornate mirrors everywhere, plush seating lining the walls, and the rooms were more like walk-in closets than stalls. "This is a fancier than what we get in the men's section," he commented as they strolled to the end of the corridor.

"This is for club members," she explained casually, opening the door to her suite to reveal a small room full of mirrors. "After you, sir."

He stepped inside a bit timidly, hanging the dresses along the designated rods. He looked back at Michonne to see her already beginning to pull off her boots and he took that as his cue to get out of there. "All right, I'll be right outside."

"Shut the door and have a seat," Michonne instructed, gesturing to the chair located against the one bare wall. She went on to step out of her jeans, slowly, as she knew he was watching, exposing her backside to him – covered only by a thin pair of lacy black panties that had ridden up between her cheeks. She then pulled off her sweater, revealing her naked breasts, her nipples already stiff from the adrenaline rush of standing nearly nude in front of a man she'd met yesterday. "Which one first?" she asked him.

Rick let out a rigid sigh as he stared at her reflection in the mirror. "Umm…" He could barely speak, taking in her perfect body. The ripples of her arms and stomach had him mesmerized, until he laid eyes on her ass, jiggling just a little each time she took a step, and he went into a full trance. He grabbed his own knee just to stop himself from reaching out to touch her. "I, um - I don't think it matters."

She smirked at his reaction, satisfied to see that she was driving him crazy. "I'll go with your pick then," she decided, pulling the short shimmery selection from its hanger. "I didn't even check to see if you got the right sizes," she realized, starting to pull the dress up her slim hips. "This looks tiny."

"I got two's," he submitted, his eyes finding her face momentarily. He vaguely recalled that being the size of her dress the night before. "I dunno if this is news to you, but you're tiny."

"Just get over here and zip this thing up."

He gladly did as told, approaching her from behind to fasten the expensive dress – of course, not before copping a quick feel of her bare back, her dark skin shimmering just as much as the sequins. His fingers grazed the waistline of her panties just before finishing the task. "See?" he grinned, the two of them gazing at her reflection. The dress showed off her magnificent legs and even accented her beautiful collarbone; although, admittedly, it was pretty revealing.

"It barely covers my tits," she dismissively laughed as she gently tugged at the fabric to make it so. "I'm not wearing this with my family."

"Well fine," he relented, his hands resting on her hips. "You can wear it with me when you get back."

Michonne smiled in reply, already exhilarated by the thought of seeing him again, even though they still had a few days before she left. Everything about him just... excited her. And from what she could tell, given the way he was pressed against her backside, the feeling was absolutely mutual. She momentarily rested her hands on top of his before turning her head to whisper to him, "Go sit back down."

"Yes, ma'am." He chuckled awkwardly as he released her, wondering if he'd bothered her by not simply zipping the dress as she'd requested. But then he watched her turn toward him, a mischievous glint in her pretty brown eyes as she slipped out of her panties, and he licked his lips, swallowing hard with the realization of what was happening. "Is this why you wanted me to come in?"

"Yep." She was biting at her bottom lip as she approached him, pulling up the dress so that it was around her waist, and she nodded for him to unfasten his pants. "I'm surprised you didn't have the idea first."

With his jeans unbuttoned, he pulled his semi-hard dick from his boxers, stroking it as she stood over him; already imagining rubbing it against her smooth pussy. "Now who's the bad influence," he smirked up at her.

"Obviously, you've successfully corrupted me." As he got himself ready for her, she did the same, licking her fingers before beginning to touch herself, her eyes instantly closing at the sensation. She had to stop herself from moaning out loud when Rick's hand joined hers, gently pushing into her moist center. She had to grab his shoulder just to keep herself upright as she straddled him, desperate to let him in. "Tell me when," she whispered.

She was getting so wet, he was certain any passersby would be able to hear him fingering her. And he only added to the sound by pulling back the fabric of the dress to release one of her breasts and immediately began to suck. He let out a quiet moan as her soft flesh filled his mouth, her pebbled nipple tickling his tongue. His dick was hard as a rock by then, and twitching for a feel of her. "When," he mumbled, reluctantly releasing her from his mouth. Another groan fell from his lips as she sank down on top of him, her wet, hot pussy clenching as she took him in. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," he exhaled, his mouth hanging open with pleasure.

Michonne nodded, her face conveying all the pleasure and pain that came with taking in his full length. "Mmm. Shit," she murmured back, her breath bathing his cheek as they came face to face, his eyes doing their best to fuck her, too.

She began to slowly roll her hips, sending his big cock deeper inside her, the head stroking her walls in a way that made her want to scream. He kissed her before that could happen, though; his tongue tangoing with hers, and she knew in that moment, he'd be the type to eat her pussy like it was his last meal. His kisses were gentle but fervent. He sucked on her full lips with a tenderness that most white men didn't have. He moved his tongue against hers with a controlled chaos that made her insides tingle. As she rocked against him, his shaft hitting her clit repeatedly, she could already feel her orgasm looming. "Yeah," she moaned into his mouth.

"Yeah," Rick agreed, feeling like he was going to explode. Her pussy felt like heaven, and her ass jiggling beneath his fingers somehow felt even better. He had a cheek in each hand, squeezing them as she rode him. Her tits had fallen out of the dress they'd yet to pay for, and something about that – the fact that everything about the moment was so deliciously wrong – only made it hotter. The steady sound of their chair beating against the wall, the scent of their sex beginning to fill the small suite, they were bound to get caught. But they didn't care, too lost in each other to give a damn about anything or anyone else. "Shit," he grunted, as she worked him, momentarily releasing her lips. His gaze landed on one of the many mirrors surrounding them, and he nearly lost it seeing the image of her ass bouncing on top of him. His cock sliding in and out of her. He grabbed her left cheek hard, solely to keep himself from letting go.

"Rick," she exhaled sharply, surprised by his grip. In response, her orgasm hit her like a brick, making her gasp and moan and whine as the euphoric feeling claimed her entire body, making her thighs tingle and her pussy tickle. She clutched the curls at his nape as she finished, feeling herself getting wetter, creaming all over him, just as he shuddered against her, his cum filling her up while he buried his head in her neck. It was all so much. "God," she sighed. She didn't want to move.

He gave her ass another squeeze, his fingers affectionately kneading her flesh, getting one last feel of her before she could dismount. "I dunno what I'm gonna do without you for a week," he breathed.

"Mmm," she moaned in agreement. She rested her head on top of his for just a moment before forcing herself up. The dick was so good she could barely walk, but she willed herself to do so and find her panties before they could leave too much of a mess. "I'm about to say something crazy, and if your answer is no, I'm just gonna blame this on being high from the sex," she warned him, still breathless. She was bent over and half naked as she spoke, and still, the question she was about to ask made her feel more vulnerable than that. "What if… you came home with me?"

Rick looked up in surprise, thinking he was the one that had to be high. "What?"

"You heard me," she said, unwilling to repeat the question.

As both of them stood, putting their jeans back on, he found himself blushing a bit. The sex didn't even do that, but her asking him to come home with her... "Is this just because you're gonna miss fuckin' me?" he joked, mostly an attempt to relieve his own apprehension.

"Well yeah," she admitted. "But also because I'm gonna miss you. And I want you to meet my family."

"Really?" He asked the question, not out of avoidance, as he would've done with any other woman – the way he had when Jessie invited him to a Fourth of July barbecue at her mom's. He was asking now because he couldn't believe that she wanted him to. And he wanted her to be sure, because he already knew his answer.

"I think so," she said, letting her new dress fall from her body. She bit her lip again, innocently this time, as she stared at him, in a bit of disbelief herself. This was all so unlike her, it was almost scary. But... "Yeah," she decided. "Really."

Rick nodded slowly, realizing just what he was agreeing to. It sounded crazy, but... so did everything else about their less-than-24-hour romance. This was different. And that was good. "Well then," he grinned, equal parts excited and nervous about all of it. "Yeah."