Disclaimer: Not mine.

Helpless 16

Just like chocolate

Marron spent most of Saturday afternoon trying to decide what to wear that evening. She laid out several outfits on the bed, but none of them seemed right. She'd had her hair cut that morning, and the beautician had styled it so that it fluffed pleasantly around from her head.

Marron really liked the new look, and wanted something stylish to go with it. The problem was, none of her clothes really had style. She didn't have time to go shopping for a new wardrobe, even if she could have afforded it. She closed her eyes, remembering some of the gorgeous outfits she'd seen in the fancy store windows in Taurus. What she wouldn't give to be able to afford something like that.

She opened her eyes again with a sigh. Even is she had the great clothes, she told herself, she wouldn't look that great in them. The mannequins were tall and graceful, and impossibly thin. No, she would just have to do with what she had.

Feeling depressed, she picked up a black wool skirt and studied it with a jaded eye. The slim lines of it were okay, but stylish it wasn't. Maybe if she shortened it a little.

Without giving herself time to change her mind, she found a pair of scissors and hacked a hunk off the bottom of the skirt. She should have measured it first, she thought crossly when she held it up to examine it. One was definitely dipped lower than the other.

She began hunting for her tape measure, wondering how she could have made such a stupid mistake. Living in the city was having a bad effect on her, she decided when she measured the hem and found it almost two inches off on one side. She was getting careless.

By the time she'd straightened the edge and hemmed it she'd lost another couple of inches. Certain she'd ruined the garment, she tried it on. The edge of the skirt hovered a good three inches above her knee.

Marron gulped. This definitely was not her style. Then again, everyone was wearing them this short nowadays. The skirt certainly looked modern, and with her black high-heeled shoes and her best pink silk shirt, maybe she wouldn't look quite so antiquated.

Her nerve was beginning to desert her when she arrived at the River Rat that evening. She wore her raincoat, which covered her bare knees, and at the last minute she almost turned back to change into something a little more modest.

He probably wouldn't even notice, she tried to assure herself when she raised her hand to rap on the door.

Trunks must have been watching for her. The door opened almost immediately. "You're right on time," he announced, and peered out at the murky river. "It's still raining, I see."

Marron stepped inside into the kitchen, and shook out her umbrella over the sink. "I heard on the radio that people are getting worried about the high water in the rivers." She started to unbutton her raincoat.

Trunks smiled. "They get paranoid every year when it rains like this. Sometimes we get one or two streams go over their banks, but nothing really serious, though a few people do get flooded out every year. It always amazes me that people continue to live so close to the water when."

His voice died away when she slipped out of her coat.

Marron avoided looking at him by opening the fridge and peering inside. "I thought I'd cook that ham I bought the other day. You do like ham, I hope?"

Behind her, Trunks cleared his throat. "I love ham," he said, sounding just a little hoarse.

She withdrew her head from the fridge and looked at him. "Are you catching a cold?"

He shook his head, though he wore a slightly dazed expression on his face. "You look different."

He'd sounded almost accusing, Marron thought, feeling a little letdown. She'd expected, hoped for a different reaction. This was an entirely new, daring look for her. She'd hoped he would at least approve.

"I got my hair cut," she said defensively. "I'm a new customer at the shop. I guess the woman who did my hair felt challenged or something."

"It looks very nice," Trunks said, still in that strangled voice.

"Thank you."

"Are those-" He cleared his throat again. "Is that a new outfit too?"

Marron sighed. "No, it's an old skirt with a new look, I cut the bottom off." She leaned over to look at her knees. "Is it too short, do you think?"

"I, no, it's fine." He took a deep breath. "I'm just not used to seeing you look like this."

"You don't like it," she mumbled, beginning to feel like a fool.

"I didn't say that." Trunks now wore a determined somewhat fixed smile. "Turn around."

She pivoted slowly on her high heels, giving him an anxious look when she faced him again. "Well?"

His eyes were warm when he looked at her. "You look wonderful," he said softly. "Absolutely wonderful."

The expression in his eyes unnerved her. She wasn't used to being looked at with such ardent approval. She had to remind herself that Trunks was well practiced in gazes like that, and probably wasn't even aware of the effect it could have on a vulnerable women.

She couldn't quite quell the rush of warm excitement, however, when she beamed at him. "I'm glad you like it."

"Can I get you a drink? A glass of wine?"

"I'll have one with dinner." She made an effort to collect her thoughts. "Now go and sit down while I get the ham on."

"I'd rather stay here and watch you."

She felt breathless and shy, and couldn't meet his gaze. He was really piling on the attention tonight, she thought, turning back to the fridge to pull out the ham.

"I'm just going to stick this in the oven," she told him. "It won't take long. I bought a can of pineapple to go with it, and I'll bake a couple of potatoes."

She was talking too much. It was ridiculous to feel this nervous all of a sudden. Nothing had changed. He often said things like that. Only he didn't usually say them with that fervent gleam in his eyes.

She began to panic, wondering, if she'd given him the wrong impression. Her stomach felt squishy inside when she thought about what he might do. Then she regained her common sense.

No, she told herself firmly, Trunks wouldn't try to take advantage of her. He was just being nice, that was all.

She was relieved when he mumbled something about laying the table and grabbed knives and forks out of the drawer.

Left alone in the kitchen she could breath again, and she concentrated on getting the meal prepared.

When she went into the living room, Trunks sat on the couch watching a news report on the wet weather.

"Dinner will be ready in about half an hour," she said, taking great care to keep her skirt pulled down as low as possible as she sat down on a chair.

Trunks barely looked up. "That's fine." He picked up the remote and started flipping through the stations.

"I brought the Scrabble," Marron said, wondering if she'd said something to upset him.

"Good." He paused at a station showing a golf game and seemed intensely interested in the scores.

Leaving him alone, Marron went back into the kitchen. She couldn't help smiling to herself. What would his glamorous girlfriends say, she wondered, if they could see him now, hunched on a threadbare couch, peering at a tiny, portable television with reception so bad it was difficult to recognize the images?

Thinking of Trunks' women friends depressed her, and she promptly put them out of her mind. They weren't here tonight and she was. It was very likely the last weekend she would spend with Trunks, and she was going to make the most of it.

He was quieter than usual throughout dinner, and she was beginning to worry about him when she opened up the Scrabble board later. He seemed determined to concentrate on the game, to the point of ignoring her, and seemed to take forever to form his words.

Before long, Marron was falling behind in points. She had an X and a Q, but no vowels, and had to pass three times before she finally picked up an E.

She watched Trunks place his tiles on the board, and leaned over to read what they said. "Rebar? What's that?"

"It's a steel bar used to reinforce concrete," Trunks said, looking perfectly serious.

Marron sighed. "I have a feeling I'm going to lose this game."

"I certainly hope so. This is the hardest I've worked in weeks."

He grinned at her and, delighted that he'd apparently recovered from whatever was bothering him, she grinned back. "That's what makes winning all the more satisfying."

"And I intend to win tonight." He picked up five tiles and set them on his rack.

Marron placed three of her tiles on the board, leaving her still holding the Q, X and the E. There were only two tiles left, and she picked them up. She was delighted to see the U, and the last tile was an I. She frowned, wondering if "quix" was a word.

Trunks placed three more tiles, forming the word "site."

Marron's heart thumped. All she had to do was add her letter to make "exquisite," Trunks had only four tiles left. Unless he came up with something spectacular, she would beat him by several points.

She wavered, wanting so much for him to win. She could throw the game right here, and he'd never know. But he wouldn't want to win that way, and she had too much respect for him to fake it. With a sigh, she placed her tiles. "That's the game," she said. "Sorry."

"Not quite." He laid down his four tiles. "Ozone, with the Z on a triple letter. I think that's my game."

She stared at the board in astonishment for a moment, then looked up at Trunks' triumphant face. "You did it!" She exclaimed with genuine delight. Then without thinking, she did something she would have done to any member of her family. She leaned forward and threw her arms around his neck.

Only Trunks wasn't one of her brothers. He was Trunks, warm, exciting, and apparently very surprised. He sat deathly still and, horrified at her impetuous behavior, she tried to pull back.

Before she could remove her arms, however, Trunks muttered something under his breath and closed his arms around her. Her heart soared as his mouth- hot, eager and demanding- covered hers.

She didn't even try to resist. Everything seemed to explode around her as he gathered her closer. She'd been kissed before, but nothing like this. All kinds of strange and wonderful things were happening to her body- and she wanted more, so much more.

She knew now that she'd been waiting for this moment all of her life. In all her wildest fantasies, she'd never expected to feel like this. She wanted to get closer to him. She needed to get closer to him.

She felt tender, yet ferocious, vulnerable yet powerful, hovering in sweet, breathless agony between laughter and tears.

She'd placed the word on the board, but only now did she realize the true meaning of exquisite.

This was exquisite- this wild, tempestuous sensation of Trunks' hard body crushing hers, his mouth warm and persistent, his strong hands kneading her back as if he couldn't get enough of her.

His lips slid away from hers to nestle in her neck. "Marron," he whispered against her skin, "what are you doing to me?"

"Making you feel as good as I do, I hope," she whispered back, curling her fingers into his soft, silky hair. He groaned, and the sound made her want to cry.

"This is crazy," he muttered.

"I know." She was past caring. All she wanted was to go on holding him.

"I think it's time you went home," he said, looking immeasurably sad for some reason.

She was close to tears herself. She nodded, and got unsteadily to her feet. Her knees felt shaky, and she had trouble focusing properly, "I'll get my coat."

"I'll get it." Trunks rose, and reached for his crutch, then hobbled swiftly over to the door.

She followed him, wondering if she should apologize, and feeling incredibly awkward now that the heat of the moment had passed.

He held her coat for her while she slipped her arms into it, and she buttoned it. She felt dazed and disoriented, as if she had just woken up from a deep sleep. He opened the door, and she took a deep breath of the cool, damp air, hoping it would revive her.

"You'll be okay to drive home?" He asked anxiously.

She laughed, and it didn't sound like her laugh all. "I only had one glass of wine," she said, stepping out onto the ramp. "I'll be fine."

She looked up at him, and something curled deep inside her when he brushed her cheek with his fingers.

"Good night, Marron," he murmured with such tenderness she felt tears dampen her eyes.

"Good night, Trunks." She floated down the ramp to her car, turning to wave before she climbed in. He stood silhouetted in the doorway and she couldn't see his face. She didn't need to. Every line, every indent, every pore was indelibly imprinted on her mind. And would be for all time.

Isn't Trunks just delicious here? I had a hard time trying to keep from biting my lip while I was typing this. It's a reaction I have towards the male species when they do something that I like, which is very seldom. I'm a very picky person. But maybe it was just the effect of the chocolate bar I'm eating? I don't think so. It's definitely Trunks' fault. (takes a huge bite from the poor chocolate bar that has happily met its doom)

Oh, and if anyone was kind enough to wonder why I seem to have fallen off the face of the earth: the culprit is school. Yes, I've been working myself too hard and I am updating on a weekday because my immune system forced me to take a break. Yup, I'm ill.