Some sexual content in this one. Probably a bit more explicit than previously, but still PG-13, I think.
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Something startled him awake. He'd been dreaming about cats. Or tigers. Claws on his back ... his shoulders.
No, not claws. Fingernails. Not sharp enough to hurt, but enough to send a slight tremor through him. Abby ... why was she ...?
No, not Abby either. Abby has short nails, long ones were hardly practical for ER work. And these nails were very long. There was the faint scent of unfamiliar cologne, and pepperoni.
Luka opened his eyes. Ralene of course. But why was she sitting on his bed, drawing her nails down his back and reading one of his books.
"Do you mind?" The words were a little harsher than he intended, his voice a little husky. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Do you need something?" As if he couldn't guess the answer.
But Ralene shrugged and smiled. "I was getting bored. And I was getting a little worried. You've been sleeping an awful long time."
"I'm fine," Luka said. He started to turn over, then thought better of it. He'd wait a minute.
"Oh, I can see that now. You look very healthy. Strong, too." Another smile from Ralene, and, despite his unease with the situation, it was all Luka could do to not laugh. She was trying to be subtle, but she did it rather badly. If nothing else, the long nail tracing the muscle in his arm made her intentions all too clear. A few months ago, Luka knew, he wouldn't have thought twice, but now he just wanted her out of his bed. Out of his room. Out of his apartment. He didn't like the way she was looking at him, touching him. He didn't like the way she was making him feel. Or, perhaps, the problem was that he did like it.
"Ralene, I'm sure you're a very nice girl, but I ..."
"You don't think I'm pretty?" Ralene interrupted. A pout now, a rather pretty one, he had to admit.
"You're very pretty, and I like you, but it isn't a good idea. We can't."
"No strings, Luka. I know we don't know each other very well yet. If you find you don't like me, or I don't ... satisfy ..."
God ... what had Abby told her about him? Had the gossip made it this far? Did she really expect him to just pull her down on the bed with him?
He shook his head and sat up, finally. "Look, Ralene, it's nothing personal, ok? But I'm attached right now. Me and Abby,"
"Are nothing serious," Ralene finished for him. "Abby told me. I mean ... gosh, Luka, I would never dream of coming between the two of you, I wouldn't want to hurt Abby or you. But Abby told me there's nothing going on, she's just helping you out, and just staying here until she has a chance to find a new apartment." Another pout. "If you don't like me ... if you don't want to sleep with me, I understand, but don't tell me it's because of Abby, because I know it isn't."
Luka hoped Ralene didn't notice the shocked and hurt expression that he knew had crossed his face at that moment. He'd thought that he and Abby had something, or were trying to have something, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe it was just wishful thinking. They'd been talking for days now, but talking in circles really. They talked but said nothing. Abby was still unwilling to commit, to make any promises. Had she interpreted his lack of interest in sex as a lack of interest in her, rather than a legitmate mixture of fatigue and concern for her well-being? He thought he'd explained, but maybe not.
Abby was so hard to understand. How often had he reminded himself of that? But one thing was true of Abby, true of all women he'd ever known. They confided in their girlfriends, told them things they would never tell their boyfriends, their lovers, their husbands. And if she'd told Ralene they weren't a couple ... why would she have said so if she didn't think it was true.
"Luka? Are you ok?" Luka quickly replaced his own worried frown with a smile.
"Yeah, I'm just a little tired yet." He looked at her for a moment, then cupped her chin and cheek in his palm. "Maybe a little later, ok?"
"Oh ... I didn't mean to rush you. I mean, we really don't know each other very well, and I'm not really that kind of girl. It's just that Abby has told me so much about you, I feel like we've been friends forever."
Friends forever. Like him and Abby. They could always be friends, but never anything more. Why was he trying to fool himself. She couldn't want him now. Maybe before ... before he'd shown her, shown everyone, what kind of man he really was. Even Ralene knew what kind of man he was. Why would any good woman want someone like him?
Did Ralene think that they were really friends? He couldn't see himself being friends with her. She really wasn't his type at all. Not for a friend, not for a girlfriend. He liked women who were a bit quieter, calmer. He looked up from his magazine and watched Ralene bustling around the apartment, doing some bit of housework she'd found to occupy herself. She caught his eye and smiled at him. Sometime in the last half hour she'd undone the top buttons of her blouse. The lacy edge of her bra peeped out. No. Subtle she was not. She wanted him, but he didn't want her, did he? He just wanted Abby.
But no, who was he trying to fool? Not himself, certainly. Once, long ago, he'd been selective about the women he dated. He could count on one hand the number of women he'd dated, slept with, between the day Danijela died and the day he'd met Abby. He wanted women he could like as people, love as partners and companions. He'd taken his time. But now his standards were far less exacting. What did a woman need now to be his type? Breasts. A vagina. And a willingness to sleep with him ... ideally without strings and without plans beyond the next sunrise. Had any of women he'd slept with lately really been 'his type?' Had he ever gotten to know any of them well enough to find out? At least with Ralene, he knew her name. That was more than he could say about many of the others.
She was his type. She found him attractive, that was obvious. She seemed to not notice the pallor, the shakiness. There was little of the solicitousness, the worry that underscored everything Abby did; every glance, every word. Ralene saw him as a man, not a patient. He knew she wouldn't even mind the scar that ran down his chest. She wanted him as a man. How could that not make him feel good? How could that not excite him?
And she was pretty. Pink cheeks, thick black hair, black eyes that sparkled when she laughed or smiled. Full breasts and hips. And she was, undeniably, willing. If she approached sex with the same enthusiasm she seemed to bring to everything else ...
"What's funny?"
The question startled him. "What?"
"Your magazine. Something funny in there?" She leaned over the back of the couch to look over his shoulder, to let her breast brush against him.
Luka realized that he was smiling, and shook his head. "In the Annals of Emergency Medicine? I don't think so."
"I didn't think so either. Looks awfully boring."
"It is." Luka put the magazine down. After a moment Ralene joined him on the couch. Touched his hand. "It's getting late. We should probably think about supper soon. Are you hungry?" Her eyes showed a mixture of innocence and ... something else.
Her eyes weren't black. They were blue, a very deep, rich blue. The shadow of her thick, long lashes made them look even darker.
"Not really," he said.
"Me neither," said Ralene. "Not for supper, anyway. But it is getting late." Her meaning was clear. If they going to do anything, it would have to be soon. And he suddenly remembered another woman, it hadn't been so long ago, saying 'We only have 15 minutes left.' Yes, she had known what kind of person he was, and so did Ralene. Why was he still trying to deny it? Why should he deny it ... deny himself a few moments of pleasure? For Abby? Abby didn't love him, didn't want him. Abby had gladly hurt him, thrown him aside.
Ralene didn't love him either, but at least she wanted him. At least for tonight. For an hour. He'd had enough pain. He was entitled to some pleasure.
Those thick, long lashes brushed the tops of her cheekbones when she closed her eyes, and tickled his own face as she kissed him. Her lips were soft, and so was her body as it pressed against his own.
Automatically his arms went around her. One more woman. What did it matter? He felt her relax a little, melt into his embrace. He sensed her delight, her relief, as she realized that he was willing now. And he pushed aside the uneasy realization that he was willing; more than that, his body was responding. That for the past three nights he'd slept with Abby and felt nothing sexual at all. But now, for the second time today, Ralene's touch was arousing him. He didn't try to fight it anymore. What would be the point?
He should get up, he thought, lead her to the bedroom. That's what she would expect of him. How many times had he done that before? Taken a strange woman into his bed? But no, not the bed. Not this time. Abby slept there, would probably sleep there tonight. He couldn't ... not in the bed. The couch would do just fine. Abby didn't sleep there anymore. And he was sure that Ralene wouldn't care where they did it. If the couch was too narrow, too awkward, there was always the floor.
Then he forced himself to stop thinking. This kind of thing worked best when you didn't think; when you ignored your heart and brain and listened only to your body. And hers.
But still, it was hard. He'd done this countless times with countless women, so why was it suddenly so difficult? He couldn't make himself touch her the way he knew she wanted to be touched. He'd start slow, go slow. There wasn't really that much of a rush. And if Abby walked in ... well ... he'd deal with it then.
Luka pulled the ponytail holder from Ralene's hair, let the curls cascade down her back. It was longer than he'd realized, and he ran his fingers through it, enjoying the silkiness against his hands. Focus on the physical, he reminded himself. Don't think. Don't analyze. Just enjoy it.
Ralene was enjoying it. And she was definitely enthusiastic. He felt her nails again across his back, hard enough probably to leave marks this time, then she was tugging at his shirt. He let her pull it over his head, then he did the same for her, more slowly. The blouse. The bra. He let his hands linger. When she started tugging at his belt buckle he said softly, "Hey, slow down. Let's enjoy this a little, ok?" Though maybe it would be better to get it over with quickly. Before he started thinking again.
"I am ... oh I am!" Ralene assured him, her voice even more breathless than usual. And he would enjoy it too, he knew, while it was happening. Again, Luka made himself stop thinking. He wouldn't think about what he was doing, or why. And he wouldn't think about how he would feel afterwards. He forced himself to focus on what he was doing, what he was feeling; on kissing her again, letting his hands roam over her body. He didn't stop her when she climbed onto his lap, straddling him, putting her breasts in easy reach of his lips. He could give her what she wanted. As long as he didn't think about it, it was easy.