65
Rune Alignment
Chapter 23
Ah, it is so nice in my car, my dark, safe car. He had parked on the street, in the same spot Bobby had parked a few days ago. It will be completely dark soon, then I can wait, watch and indulge if I like. Oh yes, I am sure I will indulge, he said to himself with a smile. Unconsciously, his hand moved to his belt buckle and began to undo it.
Bobby and Gleason rode the distance to her apartment in near silence. The silent times between them did not bother Bobby. It was what they call a 'comfortable silence.' He wondered, however, what Gleason was thinking in the silence. He thought about her. He had remembered that he left his portfolio on the sofa while he was in the shower. Damn! I should have put it away. But she hadn't read it; he saw that it hadn't been touched when they were leaving. Looking back, Bobby didn't think she would have opened the notebook anyway. She was either not interested or terrified. Neither one was a good thing.
"Edward, this is such a surprise," Eames told him. She hadn't stopped smiling yet.
"I wanted you to have a good time." They rode in silence.
The city is magical at night. The lights, people out walking; the night seems to wrap the city in a dark filter, traffic noises seem less obnoxious, edges are not so sharp. The sound of the horse's hooves cast an easy rhythm, a lulling sound set to the easy rocking. Eames could hear the leaves on the trees. The evening air was just right – not cold, but brisk.
She felt the warmth from Edward's body through the cropped evening jacket. He was big, and strong, but not as strong as Bobby was. You have to cut it out, she told herself. Stop comparing Edward to Bobby. It's not fair to Edward. You are with him, so be with him. Eames snuggled closer to Edward and his heart soared.
What have we here? W-e-l-l . . . it is about time. Where have they been all day? Rutting at his place? I wouldn't doubt it. His fingers unbuttoned his pants.
He and his big, gas guzzling SUV, there's enough room in there to have a go. But they'll do it upstairs, in her bed. Or, ooooh, maybe he'll bend her over the kitchen table. I've done that to her, on a number of occasions; it was fantastic . . . looking at my artwork while jamming away at her.
He watched them walk to her building. Ah, there he is – my, my all gussied up are we? There's my darling . . . not so dressed up, my love? Did he go off to some place nice and fancy this afternoon, and leave you behind? I don't doubt it. Especially after he saw my artwork. Or, he's brought you home, done with you; now going out to find another pretty lass to fuck. Was he good for you? Did he satisfy you? Oh, of course not, he can't do what I can do. You had to fake your comes just to get him to finish and get off you. Poor dear. His fingers slowly pulled down the zipper.
"I won't be long," Gleason said, dropping her shawl and bag on the couch. "Want anything while you wait?"
"No, thank you. Take your time, we have plenty." She started toward the hall, already lifting her tee shirt. Bobby stood in the middle of her living room. He took it all in with one sweep. There's nothing here, he thought, no pictures, photos, not even a clock. It's as if she has no past, left it all behind, as if she erased it. He sat on the edge of the couch and ran his hand over the fabric, worn and faded. He looked at the small table, the lamp – noticing the scratches in the wood and the crack in the lamp base. This is all second hand, he realized. He glanced at the kitchen and recalled how little she had, a few spoons, forks, knives, no real cooking implements. Nothing matched. He remembered her bedroom, just a box spring and mattress, no head or footboard; an old three legged stool for a nightstand, the only clock beside the phone, and a small, almost child-sized dresser. She wore no jewelry. She is prepared to leave everything behind and run when she needs to. She has no attachments.
Gleason stepped across the hall to her bedroom wrapped in a towel. I only have that one dress, she told herself. It will be ok, it's nice, and it fits. She pulled the sleeveless, drape-y black dress from the closet and held it up – and it covers my back. She stepped into the only fancy panties she had, black with tiny lace along the top edge. She smiled; I never thought I would ever wear these. She slipped the dress over her head, shifted her breasts to fill the front. Thank goodness, I saved those strap-y black shoes. She sat on the edge of the bed, stepped into the shoes and buckled them. The only mirror was in the bathroom.
Bobby went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He took a glass from the cupboard and let the tap run a bit. He drank, wiped the glass and returned it to the cupboard. He pulled open the fridge – nothing new since this morning, nothing much at all, in fact. She must shop European style, just what you need for the day. He really did clean her out fixing breakfast. Need to get her some food.
Gleason stood in front of the mirror, what are you doing, lass? she asked herself. I'm going out with a good man. He is good; I know he's good, don't I. He is good. He is good. She took her brush and began to roll her hair in a ring from her temple, around the back, to the other temple. She pinned it securely. There, that looks nice. Gleason wore no make up. Wish I had some lip-gloss. She crossed the hall one more time.
What is taking him so long? He should be done with her by now. He should be on his way, to the next fuck. My poor dear, she'll pine for him – no she won't! She'll think of me, pine for me. She'll want me, remembering all the good things I've done to her, for her. No one can do to her what I've done.
Maybe she'll reach for herself, thinking of me. Slip her hand inside her panties, feel for her slit. Yes, thinking of me will make her wet, she'll dip into the wet, smear her juice all over down there. Ah, so good. He shifted, reached into his pants and lifted himself out.
Edward checked his watch as the driver helped Eames out of the carriage. The driver jumped up and retrieved the bouquet. He presented them to her with a tip of his hat and a nod. "Enjoy the rest of this lovely evening."
"We should head to the restaurant; it's about twenty to nine." The car driver was standing at the back passenger door, waiting. He pulled it open with a smile, stepped aside and Eames entered. Sledge slid in next to her. "Well, so far so good?"
"You are a surprise, Edward. This is wonderful. Who knew you could treat a lady like this?"
Edward beamed and took her hand. He wanted to kiss her, a light kiss, chaste; but he didn't. It was too soon, she would misunderstand. So, instead, he said, "I'm glad you agreed to go out with me. I've wanted this for a long time."
Eames stared up at this man, "Edward, I didn't know. I, I, had no idea." She didn't know what else to say.
Edward smiled at her and said to the driver, "We should go to the restaurant."
"Yes sir."
Gleason stood inside her bedroom door wondering, Should I or shouldn't I? So she just did it; she opened her closet door and found the small overnight carpetbag. She took panties, an undershirt, socks, a pair of jeans and a sweater from the small dresser and set them inside the bag. She crossed to the bathroom and returned with her toothbrush, hairbrush and deodorant. She put them inside as well. She found her shoes and included them. Finally, she took a large, long black wool scarf, slung it around her shoulders, and walked back into the living room with the carpetbag.