174
Aligned Design
Ch 32
"Oh, god, oh," Gleason panted aloud. "Oh, Bobby." She was going to come again! "I, I, ungh, ungh, uuunnnggghhh!" She bent forward and stiffened. Bobby pushed up, best he could. He watched her, hands on her hips. She kept coming. Hard. Finally, she quieted to a shudder and panted, not looking at him.
"Good?" he asked her.
Her breathing finally slowed. She swallowed and whispered, "I'm going to come again, if you don't slide out of me." She could feel him in her, he was softening, but she felt him, all the way up. And it was good. "Bobby, pull out. Please." But, she made no move to remove him. She really liked the feel of him inside. She knew she was starting up again. "Oh, Baw--," she began to move in his lap. "Ungh, ohh."
Bobby watched her begin again. He was fascinated. He willed himself to harden again. It didn't take much. Watching her, hearing her, that did it for him. His left hand lifted her right breast and his mouth met her nipple. He sucked like a newborn.
Gleason made low, deep grunting sounds as she slowly pulled herself on and off his now hard penis. Bobby's head dropped back and he made deep sounds. His hips opposed her moves; they pulled apart and pushed together in synch, slowly, so slowly.
Bobby's grasp tightened on her hips. His grunts came shorter, quicker. "Hon, ugh, ugh, oh god, Glea-, I'm gonna come, I'm gon-, uuunnnggghhh!" His head snapped forward, he bent forward, he ground her down into his lap and he jerked upward, jetting his cum into her once again.
Gleason's orgasm broke with his. She gasped and saw only white. She felt him jerk inside of her. She felt him push against the top of her inside. It was incredible. She had never come like that before. She had never come three times before.
Slowly they settled. Bobby's hands moved from her hips to her back and he pulled her toward him. Gleason leaned against his chest. He held her, rubbing her back, not feeling her scars.
"Are you all right?" he said softly into her hair.
"Uh huh," was all she could manage.
They sat this way, hearts beating into each other's chest; breathing nearly in unison.
Bobby was completely soft now and he said, "Honey, I need to move. Sit up. Scoot back."
Gleason moved back and slid off him, standing up. "I need to clean up," she said shyly. She walked to the bathroom naked.
Bobby sat, not certain he could stand. Jesus, he thought, she's never been like that. It's been a long time, but . . . my God. He reached down and grabbed his trousers. He stood and pulled up his boxers and pants, zipping up, not belting. He grabbed his shirts and her tops and pants and walked back to the bedroom. He heard the toilet flush and the shower come on.
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Eames decided to go to the range. She had called Sledge and told him where she was.
"Do you want to get some dinner afterward?" he asked her.
"Ok, that would be nice. But, then we each go home. Alone. Ok?" she replied.
"That's fine, Hon. Where do you want to meet?" They decided to get fish at a place not far from the range. They would meet in two hours.
Eames did well at the range. She always did. Out of twelve targets, her high score was twelve of twelve rounds – every time but once. Her low was eleven of twelve. Yes! She was still the best shot in Major Case.
Eames was glad it was the weekend; it was hers and Bobby's weekend off. Sledge and Bishop were on. She was glad about that, too. She could have a nice, quiet weekend in without feeling guilty for asking him to stay at his place.
As she cleaned the weapon, she thought about how she felt about Edward. She knew he loved her. He had not said it yet, but she knew. She wasn't sure how she felt about him. He was good to her. He could be fun. And, he was amazing in bed. He let her do anything under the sheets; he was . . . let's say 'open-minded,' she smiled at that. She didn't think she loved him. Not yet. It was possible. Eventually. Probably.
Alex's mind shifted to Bobby. Ah, she felt completely different thinking about him. She was absolutely certain that he had no clue about how she felt about him. She had never let on. She realized long ago that she stood no chance. She had never gotten any inkling of interest from him.
Early in their partnership, she actually thought he might be gay or asexual. He had never mentioned a woman, had never shown any interest in any woman, whatsoever. Until that one case with that wacko nurse. He was different around her. Jeeze, he almost gave her his shield pin. He was really taken with her until they figured out she was a murderer.
After that, Bobby went to dinner with one or two women from work. But nothing regular. Alex didn't even know what he did on his own time. She knew he had a treadmill. She knew he went to the gym. And the library. He went to see his mother at Carmel Ridge each week. He needs to go to the range more often, she thought.
Alex checked her watch. She had to get moving. Edward was probably already waiting for her. He was always early.
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"Holy cow, do you smell that?" the young kid nearly gagged as he helped his uncle unload crap from his uncle's beat-up old van.
"I've smelled worse," the man said. "Here roll this tire way in the back then come get the rest of 'em."
The van sat at the far end of the back row of storage units. The uncle had noticed the blue Honda with its lid up as they passed it on the way to his unit. He had paid it no mind, however.
"Sure smells like something died. Whew!" The boy pushed the next tire into the unit.
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Bobby changed into jeans and a tee shirt and then knocked on the bathroom door, "Honey, are you hungry? Gleason?" He opened the door a wee bit and saw she was still in the shower. He crossed to it and pulled back the curtain a little. He started her. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Are you hungry? I have stuff to make us a good dinner. Is spaghetti ok?"
Gleason wiped the water from her face and smiled. "Why don't you come in here with me? We could have dinner in here." She blushed as she said this with a smile.
He looked at her. "Gleason, are you . . . still – horny?"
"No." She looked at him shyly and then said, "Yes," and she blushed again, looking down, smiling . "Come in with me." She reached out her hand.
What is going on with her, Bobby thought. Jesus. This is a good thing, I guess. I cannot go again. Not for a while. "Honey, I can't, not for a while. Do you want me to make dinner or do you want to go out?"
"Let's eat here. I'll be out in a minute."
Gleason was surprised at herself. She had never been like this, wanting sex like this. She and Bobby had made love frequently that first weekend – Saturday night, several times; Sunday morning, afternoon, night, several times, even Monday morning. Then, then the shooting. Gleason nearly died and Bobby destroyed his hand in a rage. She was in hospital for more than two weeks. They recuperated here, at Bobby's flat. They hadn't made love in nearly eight weeks. Except for Wednesday night on the phone. Did that even count?
Gleason wrapped a towel around herself and walked into the bedroom. Bobby had neatly laid her suit pants and shell on the bed. She went to his closet to get a hanger and was surprised to see nearly half of the bar empty.
"I made room for you," he said from the doorway. She looked at him and smiled.
"Did you save me any hangers?"
"I did." Bobby crossed in front of the dresser, set her carpetbag on the bed, stood beside her and reached up to the shelf above the bar. He brought down a collection of pants hangers, suit hangers, and regular hangers. "You live here, Honey. Chicago will be where you work, this is where you live." He bent and kissed her gently. "Put something on, dinner is almost ready."
"Bobby, I have no clean clothes. My other things are in my car."
"Well, wear something of mine." He pulled open a dresser drawer and removed his green plaid cotton pants and his green tee shirt. "Here, try these." Gleason dropped the towel, slipped on the shirt and stepped into the pants. They were too big around the waist.
"Let me fix that." Bobby stepped to her, pulled the elastic waistband, and tied a small knot in the material. "There, how's that?"
Gleason looked down at it and said, "Great, till I need to go to the bathroom again."
He smiled and said, "I'll fix it every time. Come on, let's eat."
He took her hand and led her to the kitchen.
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Jenese and Tillman walked around the Cheshire Gallery on Westover Avenue. It was a new place, hosting a ceramic exhibition. Pieces from around the world were on display. Large, abstract shapes; lovely, sweeping forms; tall, grotesque structures, each one beautiful in its own way.
"These things look really fragile," Tillman said, taking Jenese's arm.
"That is just what I was thinking. We may need to have to rethink this. This stuff will crumble before we can resell it." Jenese thought a minute. "You know, we're going to rethink this whole heist."
They walked, arm in arm.
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"Look at this! Bobby, this is wonderful!" Gleason reached her arm around his waist and hugged. The table was set with a glass of wine for her, a glass of soda for him, a plate of sliced tomatoes and mozzarella for her, just tomatoes for him, and a basket of sliced Italian bread. A pot of water sat boiling on the stove and another sat simmering.
Bobby smiled and hugged her to him. "Let's eat."
He pulled out her chair and she sat, then he did. He saw her smile, looking at everything. She was happy and his heart sang. She smiled at him and reached for his hand. "Thank you, love. Thank you." Gleason reached for the bread, "I love bread! This is nice and soft." She reached for the butter and slathered it on.
Bobby took a sip of his soda and Gleason noticed. "Do you not want a beer, Bobby?" she asked around the bread in her mouth.
"No, no I'm not going to drink for a while." He couldn't look at her. She caught the change.
"Why? Did something happen?" She watched him. He was uncomfortable; he shifted in his seat. "Love, what happened?" Gleason set down her slice of bread. "Tell me."
Bobby was sorry he had said anything. He should have just said, "No." His lips pursed, his head swung to the left. He exhaled through his nose. "I, I got drunk Monday night, really drunk." His hands started slicing the air. "Sledge came to get me. He brought me home and got me sober. I don't remember anything. I don't remember calling him. Why would I even call him? We were never good friends." He finally looked at her. He took her hand. "So, I'm not going to drink until I get my head on straight." He gave her hand a squeeze and then reached for a slice of bread.
Gleason thought about this. He got drunk because I left. I've hurt him so much, so many times. She promised herself she would not hurt him again. She took another bite of bread. There was so much she wanted to ask him – like, why had Deakins taken his weapon? What happened to the wall in the bedroom? But she did not.
"Have I told you that I love you?" she said to him as he rose to attend to the stove.
He stopped, turned and smiled at her, "Actually, you have. Several times. And I thank you." He turned completely and kissed her lightly. She reached for another piece of bread.
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Alex and Edward had enjoyed their dinner. Edward laid his credit card on the table. He had noticed her looking at him, a lot.
"So, why are you looking at me?" he asked.
"What do you mean? I'm not looking at you," she replied.
"Yes you are. I've been watching you, you are looking at me. What are you thinking?" The server took his card.
Alex looked at the table. It was funny he should catch her sneaking looks at him. Throughout the meal, she had been looking at him, thinking intently about him, deciding how she really felt about him. Could I love him, she wondered. Could I be in love with him? She wasn't sure.
"All right, I'll tell you. I was imagining what this evening is going to be like. Just me, in that nice flat, by myself. Doing whatever I want. Without the TV on. Without the toilet seat up. That's what I was thinking." She smiled sweetly.
He smiled back at her. "No you weren't," he said.
Her eyebrows shot up, "Oh?" Her voice matched her eyebrows.
The server returned and Edward nodded to her, taking the slip and his card, "Nope. You were . . . " He figured the tip. "You were deciding how you feel about me. You were wondering if you are in love with me." He signed the slip and finally looked up at her. "Right?"
She was stunned. She didn't know what to say. She was flustered and she was adorable when she was flustered. It didn't happen often.
"Well?" he asked. "Am I right?"
"Edward, I. . ." she was speechless. And embarrassed. Alex actually reddened.
He smiled at her as he returned his card to his wallet. He loved her like he never thought possible. His carousing days were over. "Don't worry. I know how you feel. You don't know yet, but I do. You'll figure it out." He slid forward on the seat and returned his wallet to his back pocket. "Are you ready?"
Eames still couldn't speak. And then, "All right," she said with a sly tone, "you are sweet talking me because you think I'll just melt and let you come back to my place. Well, you are so wrong, buster."
Edward stood and reached for her chair, he held it as she stood up. She stood and he said, "No, really, Alex. I'm serious. I'm staying at my place for a few days so you can think about this, about us. I want you to think about us. I already know how I feel. And, I want to know how you feel. I think I know how you feel. But you need to come to it yourself." They looked at each other for another second and he reached behind her and led her to the front.