Chapter Ten
The couple froze, listening as Mrs. Benson closed the front door behind her, dropping her keys in the little ceramic bowl by the front door. They stared at each other, unable to move until they heard her footsteps heading in their direction.
"Freddie?" Mrs. Benson's voice approached his closed bedroom door.
Sam leaped off his lap, scooped up her clothes and scurried into the bathroom. Freddie sat frozen for two beats, then jumped up and attempted to run after Sam. Tripping over his own T-shirt in a panic, he wound up flat on his face on the floor.
"Freddiekins? Where are you?" Mrs. Benson's voice was getting closer and Freddie's brain finally kicked in. He quickly began doing push-ups at a rapid pace.
His mother opened the door forcefully, looking around the room with a suspicious frown. "Freddie, did I hear you talking to someone?"
"What? No, Mom, I was just counting off my reps – 48, 49, 50." He jumped to his feet, flushed and out of breath.
Her eyes swept from his disheveled hair to his heaving chest and she frowned even more deeply.
"I think that's enough, Fredward," Mrs. Benson insisted. "You don't want to overdo. Why don't you take a quick shower? Dinner will be ready is half an hour."
"A…a…shower?" Freddie stuttered, not daring to look in the direction of the bathroom. He knew Sam was probably hiding in said shower and his anxious look shifted to a smirk. "Sure, Mom, let me jump in the shower before dinner."
With one last suspicious look around the room, Mrs. Benson left the room, closing the door behind her.
Freddie slowly released the breath he was holding. Despite the interruption, he was going to need a cold shower after their earlier makeout session. He fell back onto his bed, his arm covering his eyes.
He heard her approaching, but remained in repose. Freddie suddenly felt two small hands slowly trace their way up his chest as a petite form straddled his lap.
"Not now, Sasha," he moaned, "my girlfriend might be back any second now."
"Your girlfriend?" a quiet voice purred. "Well, does your girlfriend do this?" Her hand traced his erection, lingering as he arched his back. At his indrawn breath, the hand continued its ministrations, eliciting another moan from Freddie.
"Sam," Freddie groaned. "You are the best girlfriend ever."
"Sam? What happened to Sasha?"
"Sasha was never as hot as you, babe," Freddie whimpered, anticipating her next movements.
"Better not be," teased Sam, "It would suck for your imaginary girlfriend to be hotter than me."
"Sam," Freddie panted. "The only words I heard from your last sentence were 'suck' and 'hotter.' Holy crap, I'm going to need a cold shower." He groaned , struggling to sit up. Sam rolled off his lap, reclining next to him.
"Well, I could always join you," Sam smirked, looking up at him flirtatiously. "Or you could just come back to bed." She patted the bed suggestively, attempting a 'come, hither' look. "C'mere, babe, and let me take care of you. I can help you….relax."
Freddie thought he might burst into flames on the spot. "Uh, um, well," he stuttered, his thoughts alternating between a wet, naked Sam and Sam 'taking care of him,' her mouth on his… Freddie bolted to the bathroom, locking the door behind him.
Sam stood up slowly, brushing off her hands. "Looks like my job here is done." She sauntered over to the window and hoisted herself out.