Rune Alignment
Chapter 32
Bobby put on a pair of shoes, got his keys and ran down to the car to get her bag. He picked up the Sunday paper from his box and returned to his apartment. He turned up the heat under the pot of water and covered the plate of toast with a damp paper towel, setting it in the warm oven. He ripped open two envelopes of hot chocolate and poured one in each mug. He remembered the honey and placed it on the table with a bit of orange marmalade left in a jar. Then he sat in the living room chair and opened the paper.
Bobby turned from the paper when Gleason came down the hall, wrapped in a towel, her wet hair hanging around her. "We forgot to bring in-," she started. Bobby reached down and held up the carpetbag.
"I didn't forget," he told her. She walked to him and he dropped bag and set the newspaper beside the chair. She turned and sat on his lap, hands resting on his knees, legs open around them, toes just touching the floor.
Long ropes of wet red hair hung down her back. Bobby gathered them with both hands and ran down its length. Her hair was heavy and wet. He placed the damp drape of hair over her right shoulder.
The top point of the design on her back showed above her towel. He put his hands on either side of her neck and kneaded, massaging her neck and shoulders with his thumbs. He stared at the scars. How this must have hurt, he thought.
"Oh, Bobby, that feels so good," she moaned. She shifted on his lap and he felt a twinge. He continued to work her shoulders and neck. "It's so good, so good," she said deeply. She shifted again, front to back this time, and he felt himself jerk alive. "Ugh, so good," she shifted in a circle and he filled more.
"Sit still," he whispered. She rubbed her bottom up and down his lap. "Gleason, stop it." His whisper was husky; he was nearly erect.
She stopped, turned around and said, "Huh uh, this is good," smiling widely at him. In one move, he ripped off her towel, tossed it on the floor, grabbed her and laid her down on it. She gave a delighted squeal and he was on her in a flash, one knee on either side of her hips. He pinned her arms above her head and spread her legs with one of his. He looked down at her smiling, glowing face. "You devil," he said laughing. "You horny devil woman. Where did you learn that trick?"
She laughed and looked up at him, "Watching porn."
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They made love right there on the living room floor; old fashioned lovemaking, with him on top. Bobby rolled to her side, took her hand and kissed her palm. He pulled up his pants and stood; he took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Go get some clothes on, breakfast is ready." Gleason bent to pick up the towel, and he smacked her bottom. He handed her the carpetbag.
Bobby walked into the kitchen and heard the pot on the stove snapping. It had boiled dry. "Oh, jeeze! Shit!" he exclaimed. He grabbed a dishtowel, lifted the pot, set it in the sink, knocking off the lid, and turned on the water. A plume of steam whooshed up and he stepped back, watching, listening to the pot go nuts popping and crackling in the sink. Bobby waved the dishtowel into the steam.
He pulled open the oven door and a cloud of smoke puffed into the room. Bobby waved the dishtowel again, faster, and saw a flame consuming the paper towel. "Oh man! Oh, jeeze!" he shouted and whacked the flaming paper with the dishtowel, knocking slices of toast everywhere. When the fire was out, Bobby used the dishtowel to remove the scorched plate; he threw it into the sink as well, under the running water where it promptly snapped into pieces.
Gleason stood and watched Bobby in front of the sink, feebly waving a dishtowel amid smoke and steam. "I've heard of hot stuff in the kitchen, but you take the cake, big boy."
Bobby turned and looked at her sheepishly, "I, I forgot about the pot . . . and the paper towel." His hands were indicating and chopping like crazy. "The pot, it boiled dry and the towel . . . the paper towel caught on fire in the oven. I threw the pot into the sink and then the plate with the toast in the sink to put out the fire and the water ruined the toast. I should have nuked the water instead of trying to boil it."
She just smiled and shook her head, "My boy." She went to the fridge, pulled it open and saw the two bowls of mandarin oranges. "Ah, all is not lost." She took the bowls to the table and saw the box on her plate. She looked at Bobby. He smiled. She set the bowls on the table, and sat down, hands in her lap.
"Open it," he told her as he sat across from her.
"What is it?"
"A surprise."
"Tell me."
"Then it won't be a surprise."
They smiled across the table. Gleason touched the box with two fingers. Bobby watched her. Slowly she lifted the lid. Inside rested a chain of hammered gold links and onyx stones. Sets of seven links alternated with an onyx stone. She looked at it, then at him. He smiled and nodded. She lifted the chain. It was exquisite. "Bobby . . . I, I . . . I've never had. . ." He came around the table and took the chain, laid it around her neck and hooked the clasp. Gleason reached for it, ran her fingers along it and stood. She turned and he held her, just held her.
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Bobby and Gleason spent the day making love, reading the paper, napping. They did go to her place for extra clothes, her cell phone, and a bar of her soap. They also brought back her kettle, teapot, box of tea and the cozy. She ran back in for her green chenille throw. They stopped and bought a few groceries, including a loaf of bread.
That afternoon, they argued mildly about her staying home, at his place, for a few days. She knew she wasn't going to win so she called her graduate assistant and asked if he could cover for a few days. Brandon was pleased to oblige. Then she called the dean and explained the situation. Bobby talked with her as well. The dean was most accommodating.
It all felt so right.