Many Thanks to those reading, reviewing, and following this story!
Comments are always welcomed and appreciated.
Now, I realize Santofsky isn't a favorite pairing, yet I found Dave and Santana's story-lines incredible compelling. What I wouldn't have given for 30 seconds of meaningful dialogue between the two instead of the snark they exchanged after their meeting at the Lima Bean. MHO
I take full responsibility for all word smithing errors.
Rating will change throughout the story.
Trigger Warnings will be added as needed.
Chapter 4 - White Truck
Brittany found Puck to be a decent landlord. After two snowstorms had passed thru overnight during the winter, she had awoken to the sound of his truck's snow blade scrapping the snow from the concrete drive. Soon after the scraping sound of Puck's snow shovel as he cleared snow from the sidewalk in front of the house and the walkway that led to the front stoop. When spring came, and the ground could be worked, he had brought over a sod remover and tiller so Brittany could plant both a vegetable garden and an herb garden joking with her that what the rabbits don't eat the deer will and he'd eat anything they left. At her request, he'd sprayed the lawn with an organic weed killer, absorbing the extra cost. On the patio awning, Puck mounted decorative bars onto the supports so Brittany could hang flower baskets. When she mentioned painting the walls, he was okay with that, asking only that she kept to neutral shades or pastels, not wanting to paint over dark colors that would require additional coats once she moved out.
With that in mind, she'd taken a Friday off to paint the two bedrooms. While out buying the paint, she'd come across a display of a wicker love-seat and two matching lounge patio chairs and tables with a reduced price due to minor shipping damage. Unable to resist she'd purchased the set, only to discover an outrageous delivery charge she called Quinn to find someone with a truck. Five minutes later after ending the call, she had a text message.
'Sam can help in 30 min - look for a white truck.'
Brittany remembered Sam, a blonde man with puffy pillow lips from the band and the St Patrick's party at Quinn's. However, when the truck drove up, it wasn't Sam behind the wheel. Instead, it was Santana dressed in cutoffs that barely touched her thighs, a tight black sleeveless Def Leppard t-shirt, ripped at the neckline, black Nike high tops, and her hair in a high pony, sporting large black sunglasses.
"Holy shit" Brittany mumbled to herself, she'd never seen a sexier woman in her life as the one now standing before her.
"Heard you needed a U-Haul," Santana said as she slid her sunglasses to the top of her head. "Will the truck do?"
"You're not Sam." Was all Brittany could say, blushing as she shook her head to get the sight of the Latina out of her mind "um … Sorry, Quinn's text said, Sam."
Santana smiled chuckling "Auto-correct San Sam."
"Uh … Yeah ... right, auto-correct. Truck … sure that'll work."
It didn't take long for the two store employees to load the truck with her new furniture, stumbling over each other as they catered to everything Santana said or requested.
Santana followed her back to the house; hey quickly unload the truck moving the patio furniture to the porch slab. Brittany once again noticed the specialized Ohio plate like she'd seen the other night at Quinn's only this time it ended in with '03'.
As a courtesy Brittany gave Santana a tour of her home, apologizing for the mess, Santana didn't seem to be too concerned.
When Santana stepped into her bedroom, she smiled her eyes lighting up, Brittany couldn't remember a more beautiful smile, "Yeah, this is Puckerman's idea of a 'pop of color," she said, mocking Puck's choice of a light tan color, instead of the off-white paint that covered the rest of the walls in the house.
"You know Noah?"
"Puck's a friend of mine." she answered hesitantly, the smile disappearing "So you're painting today?"
"Yeah, my dad told me when I gave him the area to be covered, I should get it all done within one day. Trimming will take the longest, especially around the ceiling. But I think I can get it all done before I go to bed."
Brittany watched Santana as she looked around the room, eyeing the ceiling, then around the trim. "Do you want help?" she asked.
"Uh … no, I don't expect, you to help" smiling "I mean your help with the furniture was enough already."
"No, I don't get to do stuff like this very often." To Brittany, it seemed that Santana was pleading to help. "I'd like to help."
"You've painted before?"
"A few years ago, a Habitat for Humanity home."
Brittany remembered Santana's job description from the previous week 'community service work.' Truthfully, she wanted a reason for Santana to stay longer, had it not been for the walls waiting for paint, she'd have found another reason like trying out the new patio furniture. "Sure. Let me find you a shirt to wear, so you don't get paint all over your clothes." Brittany happily answered.
Brittany used her step stool to reach the edge where the ceiling met the wall while Santana worked on the trim around the windows, closet, and floor. Santana had offered to have a real ladder brought over, though she didn't explain what she meant by 'brought over.' While they painted, music played from Brittany's Echo, periodically she heard Santana singing to a song, and she even rapped at one point.
After they had finished Brittany's room, they stood in the doorway, Santana swung her arm up, so her hand landed on Brittany's shoulder "You have a very lavender bedroom. How do you like it?"
That same sensation she'd felt the previous Friday at Quinn's party when Santana had touched her ran through her again, she wanted to close her eyes and savor it. No, she wanted to melt from all the tingling sensations she felt as it traveled through her body. "Uh … I like my unicorn room." Quickly regaining her composure, she replied turning to look down at the slightly shorter woman wondering what her lips would feel like on her own.
"Unicorn?" Santana chuckled as she smiled "That's a good description as any." she answered taken in by the whimsy of the tall blonde-haired woman with the beautiful cat-like blue eyes.
Before starting the second bedroom, they took a break to try out the new patio furniture. Brittany opened the bottle of wine she'd gotten from Santana at the party the week before. She discovered Santana wasn't too forthcoming about her life. Brittan wondered if that was part of her and Dave protecting each other as Blaine implied. Brittany, not to be too nosy, talked about Lord Tubbington's weight sensitivity, smoking, ecstasy addiction, and his participation in gangs, which caused Santana to laugh, apologizing afterward.
At one point the neighbor's dog wandered over to her yard, when Jim, a retired plant worker came over to retrieve his pet she politely tried to introduce Santana but he apparently knew her though she didn't seem to know him. One thing she did notice that she hadn't at the hardware store Santana wasn't wearing the 'rock' she had worn on her left hand the previous week.
By late afternoon, they'd finished the second bedroom. Santana helped move the furniture back into both rooms, including the re-assembly and making up of Brittany's bed. As they cleaned up the brushes and paint rollers at the kitchen sink, Brittany accidental squirted Santana with the sink's sprayer. Mortified at what she'd done, she started to apologize to her guest; instead, Santana flicked her wet hand at Brittany's face. Brittany gave the sprayer a quick squeeze, hitting Santana in the chest. Santana squealed out 'not fair!' as she reached to grab the sprayer from Brittany's right hand with her left. Depressing the lever of the sprayer as she squeezed onto Brittany's hand, squirting more water onto her shirt. Brittany using her free hand grabbed Santana's wrist. Santana grinned up at the taller woman, the water still running she reached over to the faucet handle, twisting the handle she turned off the water.
An easy tingle moved through Brittany, as she held Santana's wrist. She felt her face blush. A warmth spread through her. She wasn't sure if she was breathing as she looked into warm brown eyes. She watched as Santana wet her top lip, those brown eyes never moving as they stared into hers. Brittany wondered what those lips would feel like on hers, what they'd taste like, the softness.
"Uhm…" Santana murmured, her eyes still locked on Brittany's.
"Your shirt's wet." Brittany quietly said.
"All the way through," a playful smile on Santana's face taking a step closer to the taller woman.
"It was cold water too," Brittany said softly.
"It started warm" Santana titled her head "Almost hot." Releasing her grip on Brittany's wrist, her hands moving to land on Brittany's hips, she nudged her closer.
"It would be rude if I didn't offer you another shirt." Santana's lips tempted her. She felt her breathing. Brittany croaked "And a towel to wipe your …." The spell broken by the sound of Bruno Mars 'Count On Me' played from Santana's cell phone in her back pocket.
A sigh escaped Santana's lips "I'm sorry, I need to get that." Her forehead furrowed, she dropped her hands from Brittany's hips taking the phone from her back pocket to answer the call, her voice cheerful "Hey, still at work?" she walked the few feet into the living room.
Brittany stayed in the kitchen to finish the cleaning up. Yet, the house was so small it was hard not to hear the conversation Santana was having on the phone.
"Dottie's going downtown, tonight," Santana said casually.
Quickly though Santana's voice changed to anger, "Unbelievable! I can't get a sitter in the next hour on a Friday night!"
"Oh, for God's sakes Dave, they're on their way to Chicago by now."
"Yeah, it does suck! Just don't wake me when you get home."
"Why would I be mad? They're my kids. Not like 'we' didn't have plans." Sarcasm now in her voice.
"Yeah, you will Dave. Have fun with 'your' friends tonight."
"Same here. Bye."
Brittany wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Santana say, 'ass' after the call ended.
When Santana walked back into the kitchen, she couldn't help but notice the scowl on Santana's face. "Is everything ok?" Brittany asked.
Santana shrugged her shoulders shaking off her anger "All good. I do need to go."
"Uh … OK … what do I owe you for today?" as she watched Santana remove the borrowed t-shirt, the Def Leppard shirt underneath it visibly wet.
"Nothing, I was happy to help." Handing the paint-splattered shirt back to Brittany, she removed the band that held her hair in the high pony, rolling it over hand to rest on her wrist for safekeeping. "Why would you think you owe me anything?" Brushing her hair out with her fingers. Brittany was afraid she'd lose track of the conversation if she didn't look elsewhere, even upset Santana was mesmerizing, tilting her head to look at her feet.
"I'm sure you had things to do today besides haul furniture and paint a stranger's bedroom." Looking back up, thinking she'd been rude to look down.
"Not really, besides you shared a bottle of wine with me. That's pay enough." A coy smile now on the Latina's face.
Brittany rolled her eyes "Yeah, wine you gave me."
Taking the keys from her bag before throwing it over her shoulder, reaching for the door Santana looked at Brittany "I guess I owe you another bottle of wine," she winked "I had a nice day, Brittany. Thank you." with that she left.
Evening (Brittany's Home)
Brittany fending tiredness had declined an invite from Mercedes to go to the downtown concert that evening. She just wanted more time to savor her day with Santana. After a shower and dinner, Brittany sat on the patio in her new love seat when Jim's dog wandered over. A few minutes later Jim walked over to get his graying black lab mix. One thing she'd learned since moving in, Jim was kinda of annoying. Brittany had passed it off to conservative cable news he watched all day.
"How long have you known her, Brittany?" he asked as he bent down to pet his dog.
"Who? Santana? A couple of weeks. Dave Karofsky introduced us."
He gruffed "You know she's a Mexican gold digger? Probably here illegally too.
"mmh … I think she's of Puerto Rican descent, Jim. A US territory, since 1898, US citizens since 1917." Recalling Santana mentioning her cousin's homes in Puerto Rico after Hurricane Maria struck the previous September. Ignoring her, he continued.
"We all thought Mr. Karofsky's boy would marry Russ Fabray's daughter, Quinn. Now she's a good girl." The old man shaking his finger to stress his point, "Instead, Paul's boy comes waltzing home with his Mexican whore. He puts her up at the old house. That's not good enough for her, so she talks them into building a new house. Why the hell! It looks like something out of a Mexico City slum, not rural Ohio. Expects everyone, in town to treat her like she's a queen. Claims her bastards are the boys. Now the family can't get rid of the slut."
Brittany couldn't believe what she was hearing, she wasn't sure if anger, shock or laughter was appropriate. Well ok, she knew Jim thought anyone with brown skin was here illegally, and he tended to buy into conspiracy theories, she'd learned quickly not to mention Russia or POTUS to him.
"Uh? What are you talking about? Have you ever been to Mexico City, Jim?"
Jim continued to ignore her "Karofsky's are a good family. Put this town on the map. Just a shame that a cheap drunken tramp got her claws into that boy." He finished shaking his head wishing her a good evening he walked his dog back to his house.
By bedtime, Brittany hadn't come up with a good reason for Jim's earlier rant, aside from town gossip, mixed with a good dose of crazy fake news. Eventually generational turnover would take care of people like him. A sad thought but true she reminded herself as lyrics to En Vogue's 'Free Your Mind' singsonged through her head.
I wear tight clothing and high heel shoes
It doesn't mean that I'm a prostitute
I like rap music wear hip hop clothes
That doesn't mean that I'm sellin' dope
Oh please forgive me, for having straight hair
It doesn't mean there's another blood in my heirs
I might date another race or color
Doesn't mean I don't like my strong black brothers
Why oh why must it be this way
Before you can read me you gotta learn how to see me, I said
Free your mind and the rest will follow
Be colorblind, don't be so shallow.
Free your mind and the rest will follow.
Her eyes closed she lay in bed the song's first chorus now on mental repeat. 'Tight clothing and high heel shoes.' Her mind floated to Santana at Quinn's in her blue and white dress that displayed a well-proportioned figure. The faint perception of Chanel that wafted around the Latina as Brittany stood next to her. Santana's high heels showed off her strong legs. Today, her black hair she'd run her fingers through or tossed off her shoulders. Her voice as she rapped to that song. Her laughter rang through Brittany's ears. The black t-shirt ripped in the front just enough to show her cleavage and the possibilities for the few granted access. That t-shirt. That wet t-shirt.
The feeling when Santana placed her hands-on Brittany's hips, tugging her in closer. Brittany slid her hand over her abdomen, gliding her fingers beneath her boy shorts. Past her mound to her wet center. She ran her finger between her folds drawing the wetness to her clit. Slowly Brittany circled her sensitive nub. Images of Santana undressing her. Kissing her neck. Sucking her nipples. Both naked grinding against each other. Moving her tongue down her abs. Licking that sensitive spot where legs met torso wondering if she'd giggle. Finally, tasting her. A fantasy, making love to her bosses' wife. She felt no reluctance. No regrets. No remorse. No repentance.
Evening (Santana's Home)
The cool air invaded the warmth of the bed as Dave raised the sheet and duvet that covered the bed. She felt the dip as he lay down, scooting over he touched her, his hand sliding down from her waist to her hip. She felt his lips touch her bare shoulder. "You're home early." She mumbled as the clock on her bed stand glowed 12:23 a.m.
"I just went out with Bobby." His lips moved up to her shoulder a faint hint of mint toothpaste as he whispered "Azimo" another kiss to her neck, his body still warm from the shower "and Rick, and their wives." Finally, a kiss to her temple.
"I'm still mad at you," Santana murmured not wanting to disturb the infant that slept a few feet away from the bed.
"You can't stay mad at me forever." Dave's hand gliding down her abdomen, slipping beneath the elastic of her silk sleep shorts replied, as he closed the gap between them. She felt his arousal as he rubbed up against her ass.
"Who says?" Santana closed her eyes; the scent of his aftershave, ginger, fruit, with a hint of cocoa, permeated her senses. The shower, the smell of toothpaste, his aftershave, coming to bed naked, now his interest in having sex with her. She knew the signs he'd went to Scandals after dinner, he hadn't been lucky, but he still desired a sexual release. And if he couldn't score with a man, she was his next safest bet. She felt his hand slide back up to her waist looping his thumb under the elastic he tugged her sleep shorts downward. She wanted to stop him. She tried to deny she'd forgiven him. She tried to deny that she could ever love him. She tried to deny that she wished for that same release too. Instead, she succumbed to Dave's touch. Rolling over onto her back she lifted her hips up until he had moved the shorts, freeing her legs, he tossed the shorts to the floor, thus allowing him full access to her. She heard Dave quietly laugh, knowing he'd won. Freeing her arm, she wrapped it around his shoulder, drawing him near, lips slightly apart as she felt his lips meet hers.
His hand continued to explore her body. Slipping his hand under her sleep shirt to cup each breast. Moving down to suck on one nipple then the other. He watched her, his hand rubbed her toned abs, moving back down to her pubic hair sliding his hand between her thighs, finding her warm center. Her legs parted allowing him to slip a finger between her folds he entered her. He heard her gasp. Felt her body react as his hand moved. "Fuck me," Dave said breathing into her ear. "On top" as his hand hurried away, he rolled back, shifting in bed to lean up against the headboard.
Santana rolled back onto her side, opening the drawer of her nightstand she removed one of the small packets kept there. Going back over to Dave, she straddled him, handing Dave the package "No babies tonight." Taking it, he said as he ripped it open, "Ok but no Florida when it gets cold," while she slid further down on his legs. Santana replied, "Fuck you" as she waited for Dave to slip on the condom. "That's the plan," he laughed, tossing the wrapper to the side. She then scooted up to slide him into her. He rested his hands on her hips, hers on the headboard. Closing her eyes, she started to grind against him, her thoughts not on him, but a tall woman with cat-like blue eyes, long creamy blonde hair, a lithe body, moist lips, and a touch that sent a wanting heat throughout Santana's core. She may be fucking Dave, in her mind she was wishful thinking of being with Brittany. She felt no reluctance. No regrets. No remorse. No repentance.
