House woke her and helped her out of the truck. The clinic was closed and locked up. Philly went over to the jeep and saw her keys dangling from the engine. "Greg, the keys are in the car. Come on. Let's go home."
She drove them home, feeling groggy and cold. She could practically drive the road home in her sleep and she almost did. They pulled up and, as she dragged her tired ass into the house, House thought about what he wanted to do. He wanted to go in and raid her refrigerator, find some food. But he needed an angle.
"Hey, we're suppose to call the hospital and tell them what we did." he reminded her.
"Huh? Really." She turned around, already forgetting the instructions. The only thing she knew as that her limbs felt like spaghetti, "Well, come on...let's give them a call."
He smiled to himself and gleefully followed her into the kitchen. While she dialed the hospital, he investigated the refrigerator. House gave a short cheer of delight when he saw the stew. He grabbed the casserole dish it was in and added some water to it. He stirred the stew then placed it inside the microwave, punching in three minutes before he hit the start button. Looking around, he saw the Remy Martin VSOP in a cupboard over the refrigerator. He pulled it down and searched the cabinets for a brandy snifter. He found two on the top shelf and pulled them down. He poured the brandy and took it over to the table. She continued her conversation on the phone as the buzzer went off on the microwave. House pulled it out, grabbed two bowls and dished the stew out. He realized that there really wasn't enough of the stew left to make two full bowls.
She's small anyway and probably doesn't need as much. He dished himself a full bowl and the rest he put in hers. House heard her going over the injuries, the prognosis and the surgery with someone on the phone. He put the bowl of stew and brandy in front of her.
"I'm very glad to hear that. We're both tired. Hmm..uh-huh. Yeah. Tell them to call me; I'll be down next week to see them. Bye George." She hung up and looked over at House who was scarfing the food down like there was no tomorrow. "That was the surgeon, Geoge Tobias. Both boys are doing well. They're going to have to do back surgery on Thomas. Merville lost his spleen and had some damage to his kidney, but he'll be okay. They had to give him four units of blood. George said the packed red cells probably saved his life. I wouldn't have packed them if you hadn't come. I didn't have room for them in the first backpack I packed." She looked at the bowl and then at him, "Thank you." She cocked her head as her mouth dropped, "Is that my Remy Martin VSOP?"
He lifted the glass, swirled it, sniffed and then took a drink. "You bet your sweet little, perfectly formed and intoxicating ass it is."
Philly started blubbering, "Well, I ..." She looked at him, surprised at his remark. She took a deep breath, "I save it for when my father comes to visit."
"You almost drowned and we saved two lives. Don't you think we deserve the Remy?"
She shrugged her shoulders and nodded as she put the glass to her mouth. She took a drink and then downed the entire glass. Philly looked over at him, their eyes meeting. He poured them both another glass. He sipped a little, grabbed the bowls off the table and put them in the sink to rinse them.
Philly stood up, her body moving like rubber; her head spinning from the exhaustion and the brandy, "I'm going to go to bed. You can see yourself out." She went into the bathroom and took a Marine bath, washing her arms, legs and face. She was too exhausted for a shower.
Now that he had it to himself, House looked around her little home as he drank the rest of his brandy. He was tired too. He poured just a little more in his glass and then walked back to the bathroom to take a leak. He noticed movement in her bedroom through the half-closed door. He could see her by her bed, her back to the door. He watched as she pulled off her pants.
She does have a lovely ass, Cute boy cut panties.
Stretching her arms out, she pulled her top up and over her head.Philly turned slightly, giving him a perfect profile of her right breast. His mouth dropped open.
Damn! Who would have thought that plain Jane had perfect breasts? Oh my God, I'm in breast heaven.
She threw the top on the chair and climbed in between the sheets. He watched as she quickly fell asleep. After using the restroom, he went back into the kitchen and poured just one more, healthy-sized drink. The brandy slipped warmly over his tongue and down the back of his throat. It was smooth and aged perfectly. Notes of the oak barrels filled the back of his throat and up his nasal cavity. He could feel his body responding to the alcohol.
He went into her bedroom, picked up her top from the chair and threw it on the floor. He sat down in the chair to watch her from the light of the hall. She looked like a teenager, her face relaxed, her blonde hair stretched out on the pillow. He sat silently and watched her toss and turn. In a way, it was as if he was watching a car race. The tedium of watching the cars go round was made bearable by the anticipation that a car would crash, or, in this case, the sheet would slip down from her breasts. It took half an hour, but, to his delight, there was a seven car pile up. He lifted his glass to the now pleasantly revealed breasts in a toast. He looked up to the sky and mouthed, "Thank You."
House took off his clothes, limped over to the bed, picked up the sheet and put his knee on the bed, "Philly. Let me sleep with you? Just tonight?" He looked down on her soft, white body. "Philly, let me just take that perfect orb in my mouth and taste it. Philly?"
Philly stirred, barely opening her eyes she murmured. "Huh?" She tried to concentrate, but she was somewhere between sleep and the fog of alcohol. She looked up from the pillow, saw a man's body, smiled and scooted over to the other side to make room for him.
House slipped in under the sheet and quilt. Her body was still cool from the days events. He put his hand on her knee and dragged it up her cold skin, through the patch of curly, dark blond hair, over her hip bone to just underneath her breast. He leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth. She smelled and tasted like the river, a mixture of algae and minerals still clinging to her skin. Her quarter sized nipples were already plump and perfectly hard from the chill in the air. House heard a soft moan come from her lips; it quickly registered in his groin. He slipped his left hip over hers and pushed his hardness into her leg.
Philly was trying to make sense of her body. Every muscle was heavy with fatigue; her mind was heavy too. And yet there was a sensation of something tickling through the exhaustion. A warmth was crawling through her body to the places that were still cold from the water and the night's air. She felt warm on the left side of her body and a wet-warm feeling tickling her nipples. Every brush of his hand down her body felt like an electric wave, a wave that traveled not to her brain, but to her groin. She allowed herself the luxury of enjoying the tingling. Sometimes she had dreams like this, dreams of indescribable pleasure. In these dreams, Wes was interested in one thing, pleasuring her. She would wake, realizing she had climaxed from her dream. She would shudder, amazed at the strength of her orgasm; an orgasm that had occurred without a single touch. But for some reason this dream was different. Different because she couldn't predict what he was going to do next. In her dreams she knew what came next, but this one was different and her body was excited by the difference.
House had ignored her face and neck, concentrating on licking the cool, soft skin that lay partially under him. He pulled her leg over and slipped his entire body between her legs. He pushed the folds apart and dipped his head between her legs, licking between the folds until he found her clit. He could feel it get larger and larger while muffled breaths and moans escaped from Philly's mouth. He wasn't sure if she was awake. House started alternating between licking and sucking, making sure he sucked in a steady, firm rhythm. A sound came from deep in Philly's throat, a deep sensual sound of appreciation.
Philly didn't know if she should do anything. Would the dream change if she acted? Would it disappear before she could bring the dream and the feelings racing through her to fruition? The answer came quickly. Her body felt a tingle where his tongue was rubbing. It was like an electric ignition on a stove. It flash several times before the flame went searing through her. The strength of her thigh, uterus and vaginal muscles contracting over and over were overpowering. Her fingertips, her nipples, her groin all caught fire.
"Ohhhh. Ohhhhhhh. Ohhh my God." She moaned over and over.
House could smell the change in her. The odor of her body responding to his touch, his rhythm, his tongue, it all made him so hard, he was throbbin. He had his hand on her round abdomen, just above the pubic bone. When the contractions started, he could feel them through her skin. Her abdomen tightened and just below it he felt the pulse of the orgasm as it pushed her into screams of pleasure.
He lifted up and rubbed himself against her knob, sending the last flows of tingling through her body. She spread her legs to accommodate his hips. She wasn't looking at him, she had her eyes closed. She looked so sweet. So pretty. Her cute freckles were barely visible in the light from the hall. He pushed into her a few inches and then he backed out a little. Again he pushed further in, backing out just a little. Again and again he could feel her body bend to accommodate him. She was tight, warm, wet. House watched her breasts float ever so slightly up and down as he danced inside her. He picked up speed, thrusting up as far as he could go. He was pounding her, her whole body sliding up with every movement. He felt it first in his balls, and then the base of his penis. He could feel the release on each thrust. He had thought it was starting to wane when she tilted her hips and clamped down with her muscles, making him come even harder.
"Ahhhh...Philly, Philly...damn, damn."
She reached up, grabbed the back of his head and whispered in his ear, "Wes, this was the best."
The last of his orgasm gave out with one last gasp. His head spun from the sensations pinging through his body and the disappointment of her words. Still, maybe it was a mistake. Maybe she really knew who was with her and had just called him by the wrong name. Maybe.
House slipped out of her and rolled on his back, looking up at the wood slats in the ceiling. He pulled the sheet and quilt up and over them. He felt her move next to him, seeking his warmth. He turned and held her, letting himself remember what it was like to hold a woman all night long.
Well, if she can believe I'm Wes, I can imagine she's Stacy.