OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
"Can you hold that?" Rachel yelled, stepping into the lobby of her building and seeing the elevator doors about to shut. She ran and barely made it inside, panting and rearranging the shipping bags in her hands. She was soaking wet from the near-hurricane that had been disquieting the city streets all day, and, quite perceptibly to her onlookers, in a big hurry.
When she finally made it to her floor, she all but sprinted to her apartment, jamming the key into the lock and slamming the door behind her.
"You're late!" Erica screamed from the couch.
"I know!" she yelled back, her voice laced with a very prominent 'don't start with me' tone. Erica got up to meet her roommate in the middle of the living room, taking her bags from her and hurrying her to shed her drenched coat.
"Isn't he going to be here in like 30 minutes?" she enquired, aiding Rachel in discarding her soaked-through blouse. She was a woman late for a date. There was no time for modesty or convention.
"Yes!" she answered, having already stripped down to her underwear and advancing up the stairs for the bathroom. "There must have been a traffic jam on every street for 30 blocks, and I couldn't get a cab because of the rain," Rachel could be heard yelling from the upstairs bathroom. The water switched on, and Erica could just barely hear her crazed roommate's final statement over the noise and the closed door. "This city's gone fucking mad!"
Only some 5 minutes later, Erica heard the bathroom door swing open and her friend running across the hall into her bedroom. She smiled at the adolescentness of the whole ordeal. She felt like she was 16 again, helping her best friend get ready for her first date with the school's 'super dreamy' quarterback. She collapsed into the cushiony sofa and turned on the TV.
"Don't wear the lacy underwear," she called up the stairs, the discomfiture such a brazen statement would usually hold proving nonexistent between the two girls.
"Why the hell not?" she heard Rachel call back from upstairs.
"That black dress is way too flimsy. You'd be able to see the panty line right through it. Go with sheer- it's lighter," she lectured. In her bedroom, Rachel smiled to herself. Erica knew her so well. She was the best, most advantageous roommate a girl could ask for- experienced in all the femininities and willing to divulge her secrets.
Rachel checked herself in the full-length mirror in her room, straightening her dress and flattening the material out over her body. It was a short, strapless black dress with a slit up one side that fit her tightly. It was elegantly simple, but seamless- much like Rachel, herself. She had no time for reflection, though, so she slipped on her strappy stiletto heels and began blow-drying her hair. She had just enough time to finger-brush it before she heard the buzzer.
"Erica, can you get that?" she hollered, immediately thinking better of it. As much as she loved Erica, she knew she was a lot to take, and she'd prefer it if Ross spent as little time as possible around her until their relationship was more solidified. Erica could scare off even the manliest, most confident of men.
As she rounded the banister to the left at the bottom of the stairs, she was met with the such a spectacle that she couldn't help but giggle to herself. Erica, clad in tattered boxers and a ratty old oversized t-shirt, was holding the door open to an already intimidated Ross. There was just something about Erica that made guys' knees shake, and it wasn't always sexual. When he saw Rachel, he smiled, and she could have sworn she also saw him exhale deeply in what was a distinct sigh of relief.
She smiled back as she approached him, silently acknowledging that she understand what discomfort she was saving him from. She put her arm lovingly around Erica's waist to wordlessly dismiss her roommate.
"You look great," he offered, grinning like an idiot from ear to ear.
"Thanks," she blushed, though he looked rather sharp, himself.
This was the most dressed-up she'd ever seen him, including the night of the ball. He was wearing black slacks and a light blue collared dress shirt, with a black tie and gray jacket. His hair was gelled and he smelled faintly of aftershave. To say that he 'cleaned up nicely' would be the understatement of the year.
"So you ready for our first official date?" he asked, sticking his hands into his pockets and rocking nervously back and forth.
"That feels weird to say, doesn't it?" She'd almost laughed aloud when he'd uttered the words. After all they'd been through, it was hard to believe tonight marked the 'official' beginning of their 'relationship'.
"Yeah, a little bit," he confirmed grudgingly, "but it doesn't really matter what we call it as long as you're wearing that dress." He smiled charmingly, knowing exactly how far flattery got him with her: a hell of a long way.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
They strolled elegantly down one of the only remaining cobblestone streets in the Village, originally constructed in the 1790s but remained somehow preserved through Manhattan's redistricting around the turn of the centory. The tour buses couldn't even fit down these quaint, narrow side streets, like they existed in their own little world, away from the busy chaos of the rest of the metropolitan island.
Vibrantly green saplings lined the sidewalks and their branches bent over the avenue to form a thin, blanketing canopy that the dying rays of sunlight could just barely infuse, casting a glittering illumination over the lovers as they strolled, hand in hand. Ross stopped and bent down, picking up a light pink blossom that had fallen from one of the overhead trees near his feet and placing it carefully behind Rachel's ear.
"This is weird..." Ross revealed, taking Rachel's hand in his again and beginning to walk.
"What is?"
"This," he elaborated without really elaborating, pointing to her and then to himself. "Us. It's, uh...it's strange how comfortable it feels." She smiled. He was always such an eloquent, articulate speaker, but as soon as he started referencing her or 'them', he stammered over his thoughts like an awkward school boy.
"Well, I guess that's just one of the many perks of having sex before the first date," she joked. He rolled his eyes but smiled widely and nodded. "Get rid of all that unspoken curiosity right off the bat."
"No, but really. Don't you think it's a little...spooky, almost?" he enquired.
"Why should it be spooky?" she challenged, true to form.
"I don't know..." he trailed off, shaking his head and searching for the right explanation. "I mean, we don't exactly have a lot in common. We have really different career goals, different backgrounds, different friends..."
"You don't even know my friends," she pointed out, which ultimately only strengthened his case.
"Exactly!" he punctuated. "I really don't know much about you at all, except..."
"Except what?" she probed, seeing that he was apparently lost in thought and wanting greatly to hear the end of his sentence. She squeezed his hand in encouragement. Still walking, he turned his head up from the ground to hers, his face expressionless to any casual onlooker, but, to her, filled with the most heartened sentiment. He took a deep breath.
"Except the way you make me feel." He clenched his jaw the way he only did when being especially serious. If she knew something that intimate about him, did it really matter that she'd never met his friends? She leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder as they continued to walk.
"Do you think that's crazy?" he continued, and it was obvious to her that he was genuinely asking and not just making off-the-cup conversation. She considered this for a moment before shaking he head. He felt it on his bicep.
"No," she whispered. "And if it is, I guess we'll just be crazy together."
"Good," he whispered back, nodding and taking his hand from her to slide it around her waist. "Here, this place has great frozen yogurt." He guided her through the door of the small, independently owned ice cream parlor with his fingers grazing the small of her back. It gave her the chills.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
When they got back to Ross' place, Carver, thankfully, had gone out for the night. Ross was relieved and a little surprised that his normally selfish and socially obtuse roommate would be so considerate. While Rachel headed into the living room, Ross removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves, opening up the fridge and retrieving two bottles of beer.
"Sorry," he smiled as he approached her with the two wet bottles. "All out of wine." He plopped down beside her on the couch and set the two beers on the coffee table in front of them, beads of condensation already inching their way towards the wood's surface. It was humid in his apartment, and he tugged at his tie and unfastened the top button of his collared shirt.
"You alright?" he asked. He'd noticed a few minutes ago how she'd been staring right through him, seemingly out of the giant, plate glass window behind him. Maybe she'd just been lost in thought, though, 'staring' at nothing but space.
"Huh?" she mumbled. It had obviously been the latter. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she smiled.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he wagered, and, upon looking at him, she couldn't remember a time he'd looked more adorable innocent or...infatuated with her. She sighed heavily.
In the back of her mind, she knew she should tell him. On the one hand, she felt accountable to him and the guilt of leaving him in the dark about this was arresting her with overwhelming shame. But on the other hand, she could feel her reason wavering and giving way to emotion, and right now the feeling of his tongue sliding over her neck and the weight of his hand on her upper thigh were drowning out all sagacity. He felt so good. No man had ever felt this good before. She knew if she told him now, she'd not only permanently ruin this moment, but she'd break his heart. Looking into his eyes when she said it would be enough to break her own.
She was not lying to him, really- just protecting him from avoidable headache and heartache. If she were being honest with herself, lame justifications such as that one were holding little water with her conscience and alleviating little remorse, but his tongue was in her ear and his hand had made its way underneath her dress to the bare skin of her inner thigh. Soon, his fingers would be abrading the fabric of her underwear and her head would float up instantaneously to the clouds and all thoughts would flee from her mind for the evening.
God, just let her have this night with him. Even if it was their last.
"Seriously, Rachel, is something wrong?" he whispered, his breath rugged and his lips grazing her earlobe. Uh oh, she'd been so lost in thought that her anxiety must have been showing. She quickly cleared all thoughts of her moral impasse from her mind and shook her head, smiling confidently and draping her arms around his shoulders.
"No, nothing," she confirmed. She leaned back into their kiss, taking it upon herself to deepen it. Egged on by the feeling of her tongue forcing its way deep into his mouth, he ran his free hand down her back and over the top of her ass. He had no idea that her sudden aggressiveness was her own way of smothering any doubts.
Suddenly, things were moving faster than their initial pace had ordered, and he was somehow finding himself with his pants unbuttoned and her straddling his lap with her dress up around her waist. While his groin was telling him to keep going, something about all of this just felt...off. He'd sensed some sort of wall between them in that first kiss so many minutes ago, and it hadn't disappeared. If anything, it had only intensified. He placed his hands on her waist and pushed her back.
"Rachel," he almost pleaded. He searched her face for some sign of...something. He didn't want to admit that he was looking for guilt, but that's what it felt like she was hiding. He could tell these things about her. He might not know her parents' first names, or her childhood best friend, or how old she was when she lost her virginity, but he knew her emotions- her essence.
"What?" she asked, but the only thing shading her voice was a slight twinge of frustration. He cocked an eyebrow, searching her one last time. There was a very palpable rigidity between them, now, but he could let it go if she would just give him some reassurance-something to tell him it was okay to continue without feeling like one of them was being dishonest.
"Look, everything's alright," she ensured him, taking his face in her hands and locking her eyes with his. He wanted to believe her, but something inside him- something inherent and refined- told him this moment would prove to be more poignant in the future than either of them knew, right now. There was nothing he could do, though, besides trust her. Nodding as a sign of his instilled faith, he placed his hands back on her waist, resuming their kiss.
As he unzipped the back of her dress and felt her wiggle out of it, he could already sense something different in her kisses- something that had never been there before. It was like the opposite of confidence, but not powerful enough to be doubt. It was a hesitance- a guardedness. It was like she wanted to be kissing him, but didn't want to want it. It was like their first time, but more of a letting go than a coming together. He wasn't sure he liked it, but to stop kissing her was a physical impossibility for him.
She slid from his lap and stood up, never parting her lips from his, and pulled him by his tie back towards his bedroom. He wanted so badly to stop again and ask if something was wrong, but he knew to do so would be a blatant display of suspicion, and he didn't want to offend or upset her. After all, it was their first real date. Still, it didn't seem right that it should feel as awkward as their first meeting.
She lied him down on the bed and proceeded in peeling off his clothes, rather aggressively marking her role as the dominant one, tonight. Whatever was in the air between them, it was about her, not him. He would be happy to let her have her way with him- be the shield and sword, for tonight, that she used to fight away her demons. It was becoming increasingly evident that that was what she was doing.
As soon as they were both naked, she kneeled above him and lowered herself onto him, leaving no time for foreplay. He noticed, dejectedly, that she hadn't even looked him in the eye first. His body went limp and he squeezed his eyes tightly shut, submitting to the fact that they would not be making love tonight. This was fucking.
The only intimacy between them existed in his hands positioned on her thighs, but even they seemed to be growing inversely colder as their movements sped and their body temperatures rose. As she climaxed, he felt his body follow in suit, but his heart was not in it. The last thing he noticed before his head started spinning was that her hands had been clutching the headboard the entire time. She hadn't touched him once.
When it was over, she did not collapse ontop of his chest, as usual, but instead rolled quickly to her side of the bed and burried her face in the pillow. 'That's better than turning her back to me,' Ross considered, but the weak effort at self-solace ultimately did little to throttle the sting of rejection.
He spooned up beside her and rested his hand on her back, almost surprised to find her skin warm and sticky with sweat. Somehow, he'd expected it to be uncharacteristically clamy. Maybe because that's what she was being.
"Rachel..." be whispered, even venturing a small kiss between her shoulder blades. When she did not wince or pull away, he took that as a positive sign and even dared to rest his cheek on her back. Ever so slightly, she turned her head towards him and nodded.
"I know," she sighed back. "I'm sorry."
"Is there something I should know?"
Silence.
"Rachel?"
"Can we talk about it in the morning?" she asked. Ah, confirmation. That last dying, shred of hope that maybe her detachment had all been in his head was now lying beaten and torn on the bed beside him. Something really was the matter.
"Should I be worried?" Too late.
"No," she insisted. To emphasize this, she craned her neck forward and kissed his shoulder. His heart skipped a beat. It was the first real sign of genuine affection she'd shown in hours. He couldn't doubt her when she did things like that. She was his biggest weakness.
"Okay."
And just like that, he agreed to wait patiently until morning. He'd wait forever for her.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO