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Aligned Design

Chapter 31

Gleason had taken off her suit jacket and laid it on his bed. She returned to the kitchen and saw him leaning on the edge of the sink; she saw the flowers and the tablecloth and she smiled. He did this for me, she thought. Her heart swelled. He loves me. She went to him and wrapped her arms around him from the back. He stood up and ran his hands on her arms. She leaned against his strong, broad back. "The table and flowers are lovely," she said.

Bobby turned, held her around the waist and said, "I bought them for you. I want you to be happy, Gleason. I want to make you happy. I want you to stay with me. I want you to live here, with me. I want things to be like before. Honey, I love you so much."

Gleason looked up at him. "Bobby, I'm moving to Chicago in a few months. Please understand."

It was hard to breathe again. His eyes poured into hers, into her soul. "But you love me, right. You'll still love me in Chicago, won't you?" He sounded frightened.

"Love, we need to discuss this. Come on; sit with me. Let's talk about this." She took his hand from her waist and turned toward the living room.

"Wait," he didn't budge. Gleason turned and looked at him. "Tell me you love me."

"Dear Heart, I love you. I love you. I do, Bobby. Come with me." She said it softly. What have I done to this man, she wondered. Gleason turned and Bobby followed her to the living room.

Bobby sat on the sofa. He kicked off his shoes, sat and bent his left knee, setting his left foot on the seat, his heel against his bottom. "Come here, lie down. Let me hold you." He reached up for her. Gleason sat beside him, turned and laid her head in his lap, his left forearm under her head. "There, is this ok? Are you comfortable?" he asked her.

"This is nice," she replied, snuggling against him with a smile. Her right arm reached up and rested against his chest. She slid it slowly back and forth. Bobby smoothed wisps of hair away from her face. Then his hand rested below her collarbone.

"Will you still love me in Chicago?" he asked softly.

"Of course I will," she answered looking up into his face.

A long silence filled the time. Finally, Bobby said, "Tell me what happened at Brookbine."

Gleason told him everything. She told him what Dean Boyer had told her. She told him about meeting Dr. Manlowe last year at the conference. She told him about the interview. She told him about her position, what a big deal it was to be hired as a full professor, tenured, no less.

Bobby listened, asking a question here and there, making an occasional comment. His hand stroked her cheek, her jaw, her neck. He watched her excitement. He was so proud of her. We can make this work, he told himself. She loves me. I have to make this work. I cannot lose her.

"I have a lot to do in the next few months," she told him.

"I know, sweetheart. We'll get it all done. I'll help you. What are you going to do about your flat?"

"If I'm going to live with you, I won't need it." She looked up at him. "I can live here, can't I?"

He leaned down and kissed her. "Forever," he replied. His hand had moved to her stomach. His fingers absently strayed to her breast. He touched gently, without knowing. "How often will you be able to come home once you move?"

Gleason thought a moment. "I'll see if I can arrange to have Friday classes meet in the morning and Monday classes meet in the evening, the middle of the week won't matter. That way, I can fly home Friday evening and go back Monday morning. I can come home every weekend. And, you can come to Chicago, too. That will work, won't it?"

"Commuting each week will get expensive," Bobby reasoned. "But I'll pay anything to keep you." He reached down and kissed her again. His fingers became more deliberate in their stroking. He noticed how round her breast felt.

"What shall we do with the furniture in the campus flat?" she asked. "I suppose I could leave it."

"Or, we can donate it to St. Michael's Men's Shelter. Father Picard is always glad to accept any kind of donations. What about that?"

"That is wonderful, Bobby." She liked how he was touching her left breast. Nice, she thought.

"I'll give notice of vacating tomorrow morning. Maybe we can go get my car and bring it this way? I need to get my clothes out of the boot. I put them there when, when I went to Chicago." She looked up at him.

"We can do that," he answered.

"Bobby, I am sorry I left like that. It was wrong of me."

He looked down at her and his heart and soul filled with love, sadness, remorse. "Gleason, I am sorry for making you leave. I'm . . . honey, I'm sorry for exploding on the phone the other night." His hand stopped touching her breast. He shifted slightly; it was hard, telling her this. "Gleason, I'm back in therapy. I see Dr. Stephens Monday, Wednesday and Friday mornings for ninety-minutes. Something is wrong with me. I, I have no control over my temper. Deakins took my weapon. I'm not allowed to go to scenes. I'm not allowed to interview anymore. I want to get better. I want things to be like they were." He said it all in a rush and was afraid he was going to cry.

Gleason turned in his lap, shifted away a bit and looked up at him. "Bobby, what is wrong? Why is your temper out of control? What about your anger management course?" She reached up her right hand and held it against his left cheek. He leaned into it and closed his eyes. Bobby withdrew his arm from under where her head had lain. He cupped his hand over hers, tuned it and softly kissed her palm.

Bobby replaced her palm against his cheek again and said, "That didn't work, honey. It was a waste of time. I flew off at a witness, I've screamed at Eames I don't know how many times. She's afraid of me. I smashed a cup at work. I don't know what's wrong with me."

Gleason looked at him. "Bobby, what can I do to help you? Tell me. I want to help you."

He looked at her. He knew exactly what she could do to make it all better. But he would not ask her to do that. He loved her too much to ask her not to take the job. This is our new life, he thought, I need to make this new reality work. He stroked her head with his left hand, "Just love me, Gleason. Love me forever." He leaned down and kissed her.

Gleason returned his kiss, her left hand against his neck. Bobby's hand returned to her breast. He rubbed his thumb over her nipple and it stood right up. He flicked it. He pulled her top and undershirt out from her waistband and slid up his hand, grasping her round, full breast. Gleason shifted and reached for Bobby's buckle. He stopped her hand, "Do you want to do this," he asked deeply.

"Let me," she answered, breathing quickly.

Bobby undid his buckle in a practiced move and kissed her, his tongue slipping through her lips, into her mouth. She pulled down his zipper.

Bobby shifted and lifted out his flaccid penis. It was long and thick. Gleason looked at it, she took it in her right hand and her mouth met its round head. She licked it and Bobby jerked. Gleason slid just the head into her mouth and heard Bobby suck air. Her tongue played with the head and she felt him begin to swell and stiffen in her hand.

Her tongue flicked its way along the underside of his length; suddenly, he was nearly erect. She nibbled the far end, where it met the rest and Bobby moaned softly. His hand left her breast and moved to her waist, undoing the button and lowering her zipper. He slid his hand inside her panties and his middle finger found her clit. Gleason lifted her left knee to open herself to him and he slid his finger inside.

Gleason jolted and a quiet moan escaped. She was already wet for him. Bobby's finger played, rubbing her lips, darting in and out, tweaking and rubbing her clit. She set her mouth on the head of his penis and took in what she could of his length. He was enormous and she could only take part. She grasped the rest of him with her left hand and stroked.

She moved against his hand. She rubbed her tongue against the ridge on the underside of his cock. Bobby hissed and shifted his legs open wider. His left hand was in her hair, wanting to move her head. Gleason sucked on him as she would a Popsicle. Bobby moaned. His finger on her clit was pushing her closer to the edge. She moaned around his penis and he groaned through an open mouth.

Bobby's head rested against the back of the sofa. His eyes closed, his mouth opened. Ever so slightly, his hips began to move back and forth as though he were pushing in and out of her. His finger became two and he slid in and out, going faster, deeper. He held her head with one hand.

Gleason moaned around him again and Bobby groaned aloud. His sounds were fueling her. Her sounds were in her throat. Her tongue rubbed and flicked his length. She sucked him. She flicked her tongue on his tip, tasting a salty sample. She kept her mouth juicy and moved so his penis slid in and out it as it would her other opening. She stroked the rest of him faster, tighter.

Bobby began making short, guttural sounds. Gleason knew he was close. She was close. I want him in me, she thought, I want him to come in me. As if reading her mind, Bobby said, "Come here, sit on me. I want to come inside you."

He pulled his penis from her mouth and rubbed it up and down several times. She watched him do that and nearly came right there. It was a most erotic thing she'd ever seen. In a flash, she was out of her pants. She stripped off her top and undershirt. Her breasts swung free. Bobby let go of himself, boosted up and slid his pants down, off his knees and they slid to his ankles. He undid two buttons, pulled of his dress shirt as if it were a tee shirt, and then took off his undershirt. "Come, here, get on me."

He reached for her and she straddled him. She leaned in and kissed him. Bobby took himself again and began to rub. She sat back and watched him do this. "I like seeing that," she whispered. He kissed her hard, tasted himself, and moaned. "Let me in. Get on. I want to come. I want to come inside."

Gleason rose on her knees and Bobby placed himself against her slit. He still held himself, rubbing. His short sounds came fast. Gleason pleaded, "Go in me. I want you in me." She tried to push down onto his staff, but he held her up with an arm around her waist.

"Wait for it. I want you to come hard. Like never before." He spoke in a whisper, a deep, sensuous whisper.

"Bobby, I want to come." Her voice had a desperate edge. Slowly, he rubbed her with his penis. She hissed and tried to push down.

"Feel good?" he asked.

"Bobby, let me. On you." She was going to come with or without him.

At last, he slid her down and he pushed up. They both groaned aloud. Immediately Gleason began to pull and push on him. Her hands were on his shoulders and she pulled and pushed, up and down, tightening around him, squeezing him inside her. Bobby pumped up and pulled her down. He was like a piston.

Suddenly, he slid forward a bit, leaning back. He leaned Gleason back, holding her with both arms. He pushed up hard into her and didn't pull out. He felt his penis jerk inside of her shooting hot cum against the cap of her inside. He made hard, short, jerking sounds. Gleason arched in his arms and came pressing hard against his lap. She clutched his neck and growled out her orgasm.