Part 5
Two Hours later.
"I need a cigarette!" Franny comments sitting up from George's bed, her black Italian hair falling gently back to its original postion.
He knows hes going to die for this, he cuddles next to her. His brown eyes in deep concentration. He has to figure out a really great reason how this happen. If he just tells Bailey, he doesn't know, they went for a walk after meeting in a bar, and they just wound up in his bed, Bailey will just make it a slow death. He takes her hand. It had felt so right though, it had been so long since he had been with a woman, and it started to feel right again. It wasn't the uncomfortable feeling he had gotten from women after Julie, the last woman he ever slept with, and his ex fiance, had died in that car explosion. It was okay to kiss, and touch them, and feel sexual urges for them now. But soon he would be dead because of this. Not because he shouldn't have been with women, he had grieved a long time for Julie, and now it was okay. It was the fact that this woman, Frances Malone, was his boss's eighteen year old daughter, and he definetly is not going to appricate this.
She smiles down at him lying on the bed. She notices the concern in his eyes. "What's wrong, George, wasn't it wonderful for you? You rocked my world, Baby. Did I not do the same for you?"
He gives her a smile. He sits up next to her, and brings her into his arms. She leans against his chest, and he plays with her hair. "Yes, you did rock my world, but their is a problem."
She backs out of his arms, and turns to face him. "Would you mind clueing me in?" Her face is slightly angry. She is embracing for the truth, her friends must have been right he must be gay. -Or- maybe hes married, -or- has a girlfriend.
"If your father finds out about this, I am a dead man." He states simply. He leans in to kiss her lips softly, she back away.
"How do you know my father?" Her eyes turn angry at him. He frowns. He scans the room for a minute looking for his pants. He spots them on his computer table. He walks over to them, pulls out his wallet, and slids a business card out. She watches him the whole time. She is angry that this came up, but she is falling in love with him. He isn't really that muscular but he isn't punny either. He is just the right size, medium. He would probably be taken as average by most, but their was something in him, she had noticed it as he sat quietly in the cafe, by himself. It was mainly his eyes, that had attracted her. Even from a distance, one can see the spark, the joie de vivre in them. This is what she focused on now, when he came back to her, sitting next to her on the bed. He hands her the business card, he is saddened, as this seals his fate, this relationship is finished because of it. She reads the card. "George Fraley,FBI, VCTF division, communications/research." -or- something to the effect. She crumbles it up. "You're the computer guy." She inches closer to him.
He nods. She falls into his chest, delibrately, and he catches her gracefully, putting his strong arms around her "That isn't a problem, is it?" She cranes her next up towards him, and he leans his head down, and they share a kiss.
When their lips depart, she gazes into his deep brown eyes."Why don't we just ask him if its okay?"
He laughs softly, his laughter ringing through the air like a burst of music. He had never thought of that, and now it seemed almost comical. "That may work, you know."
"I am sure it will." She snuggles into his chest, as the small pendulum clock on the wall strikes three. "I will have to go soon, before he gets supicious." She removes his arms from around her and sits up. "You can ask him today, -or- when you get a chance. I know you guys are busy a lot."
"Okay. I will do that." He gives her another kiss.
"Georgie, I have one more thing to ask you?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you be a dear, and help me find where I threw my clothes?"
"Sure," He says.
They stand from her bed. They find her red leather skirt on the lamp, her pumps. in his closet, her black shirt on a bookcase near the computer, and her undergarments in a small pile on the floor. They both find this amusing, especially Franny who was the one responsible for the location of the shirt and skirt. "Next time I won't be so eager, and let you undress me." She says, as she puts her clothes back on.
"Maybe you should just leave me in charge of clothes then." He says as he pulls his striped sweater from its lopsided postion on a chair. He goes into the adjacent bathroom, and drops it in the laundry hamper. He stares down at it for a minute, it seems so empty. It had been two weeks since he had to do laundry. Six months, when Rich was here, they barely went a week without doing laundry, mainly because Rich had so many clothes. When he had left, it like the rest of the apartment, as well as himself, had begun to feel empty. Maybe he wouldn't be able to see the laundry hamper fill as fast as it did before, but maybe he didn't have to be empty anymore. He hears her voice but can't make out the words. He walks back towards her."What was that?"
"I said, You aren't allowed to remove your clothes, it was more fun when I did it." She walks over to him, and gives him a kiss.His lips part and he excepts happily.She heads for the door.
"Wait." He picks up the crumbled card off the floor, and straightens it. He goes to his desk and writes something on the back of it. He folds it in half and hands it to her. "It may take me a couple of days to find time to ask Bail, but if you want to talk, this is my cell phone number. I am a good listener. I will listen to anything you want to talk about."
She smiles. She had found that out earlier on their walk, when he had let her complain about prices of gasoline for almost twenty minutes. "Okay. You know my number as well, so don't make me be the only one calling."
He kisses her forehead. "I won't."
"I'll see my way out, okay." She tells him. "Get some sleep."
"Sweet Dreams, Frances.You need to get some sleep as well."
"I know. Sweet Dreams, George."
(More to come)
Two Hours later.
"I need a cigarette!" Franny comments sitting up from George's bed, her black Italian hair falling gently back to its original postion.
He knows hes going to die for this, he cuddles next to her. His brown eyes in deep concentration. He has to figure out a really great reason how this happen. If he just tells Bailey, he doesn't know, they went for a walk after meeting in a bar, and they just wound up in his bed, Bailey will just make it a slow death. He takes her hand. It had felt so right though, it had been so long since he had been with a woman, and it started to feel right again. It wasn't the uncomfortable feeling he had gotten from women after Julie, the last woman he ever slept with, and his ex fiance, had died in that car explosion. It was okay to kiss, and touch them, and feel sexual urges for them now. But soon he would be dead because of this. Not because he shouldn't have been with women, he had grieved a long time for Julie, and now it was okay. It was the fact that this woman, Frances Malone, was his boss's eighteen year old daughter, and he definetly is not going to appricate this.
She smiles down at him lying on the bed. She notices the concern in his eyes. "What's wrong, George, wasn't it wonderful for you? You rocked my world, Baby. Did I not do the same for you?"
He gives her a smile. He sits up next to her, and brings her into his arms. She leans against his chest, and he plays with her hair. "Yes, you did rock my world, but their is a problem."
She backs out of his arms, and turns to face him. "Would you mind clueing me in?" Her face is slightly angry. She is embracing for the truth, her friends must have been right he must be gay. -Or- maybe hes married, -or- has a girlfriend.
"If your father finds out about this, I am a dead man." He states simply. He leans in to kiss her lips softly, she back away.
"How do you know my father?" Her eyes turn angry at him. He frowns. He scans the room for a minute looking for his pants. He spots them on his computer table. He walks over to them, pulls out his wallet, and slids a business card out. She watches him the whole time. She is angry that this came up, but she is falling in love with him. He isn't really that muscular but he isn't punny either. He is just the right size, medium. He would probably be taken as average by most, but their was something in him, she had noticed it as he sat quietly in the cafe, by himself. It was mainly his eyes, that had attracted her. Even from a distance, one can see the spark, the joie de vivre in them. This is what she focused on now, when he came back to her, sitting next to her on the bed. He hands her the business card, he is saddened, as this seals his fate, this relationship is finished because of it. She reads the card. "George Fraley,FBI, VCTF division, communications/research." -or- something to the effect. She crumbles it up. "You're the computer guy." She inches closer to him.
He nods. She falls into his chest, delibrately, and he catches her gracefully, putting his strong arms around her "That isn't a problem, is it?" She cranes her next up towards him, and he leans his head down, and they share a kiss.
When their lips depart, she gazes into his deep brown eyes."Why don't we just ask him if its okay?"
He laughs softly, his laughter ringing through the air like a burst of music. He had never thought of that, and now it seemed almost comical. "That may work, you know."
"I am sure it will." She snuggles into his chest, as the small pendulum clock on the wall strikes three. "I will have to go soon, before he gets supicious." She removes his arms from around her and sits up. "You can ask him today, -or- when you get a chance. I know you guys are busy a lot."
"Okay. I will do that." He gives her another kiss.
"Georgie, I have one more thing to ask you?"
"Hmm?"
"Can you be a dear, and help me find where I threw my clothes?"
"Sure," He says.
They stand from her bed. They find her red leather skirt on the lamp, her pumps. in his closet, her black shirt on a bookcase near the computer, and her undergarments in a small pile on the floor. They both find this amusing, especially Franny who was the one responsible for the location of the shirt and skirt. "Next time I won't be so eager, and let you undress me." She says, as she puts her clothes back on.
"Maybe you should just leave me in charge of clothes then." He says as he pulls his striped sweater from its lopsided postion on a chair. He goes into the adjacent bathroom, and drops it in the laundry hamper. He stares down at it for a minute, it seems so empty. It had been two weeks since he had to do laundry. Six months, when Rich was here, they barely went a week without doing laundry, mainly because Rich had so many clothes. When he had left, it like the rest of the apartment, as well as himself, had begun to feel empty. Maybe he wouldn't be able to see the laundry hamper fill as fast as it did before, but maybe he didn't have to be empty anymore. He hears her voice but can't make out the words. He walks back towards her."What was that?"
"I said, You aren't allowed to remove your clothes, it was more fun when I did it." She walks over to him, and gives him a kiss.His lips part and he excepts happily.She heads for the door.
"Wait." He picks up the crumbled card off the floor, and straightens it. He goes to his desk and writes something on the back of it. He folds it in half and hands it to her. "It may take me a couple of days to find time to ask Bail, but if you want to talk, this is my cell phone number. I am a good listener. I will listen to anything you want to talk about."
She smiles. She had found that out earlier on their walk, when he had let her complain about prices of gasoline for almost twenty minutes. "Okay. You know my number as well, so don't make me be the only one calling."
He kisses her forehead. "I won't."
"I'll see my way out, okay." She tells him. "Get some sleep."
"Sweet Dreams, Frances.You need to get some sleep as well."
"I know. Sweet Dreams, George."
(More to come)