A/N #1: The long-awaited final number… My apologies for the delay and to LSKP who has been oh-so-patient, hopefully this makes your day. Also, to those that I almost lost due to the plot monster, consider this a compromise… If you feel so moved, click the little Review button at the bottom of the page. If not, so be it. Enjoy…
A/N #2: WARNINGS: public sexytimes and the reappearance of Dom!Rachel.
A/N #3: I do not own these characters or Funny Girl. Sadly, all I own are mistakes.
Chapter 4: Funny Girl – Night Three
"I Want to be Seen with You Tonight"… Part 1
I woke up the next morning curled snugly facing the back of Rachel's basement sofa. Sadly, I realized I was alone on that couch. Way to go, Fabray… you better not have fucked this up. I didn't know what was worse—waking up alone on the couch or being chastised by your inner voice at what I assumed was way too early in the morning. Pushing aside my insecurity, I stretched out to the full length of the cushions, squeezing the sleep from my eyes, and lithely rolled to greet the rest of the basement.
As I opened my very tired eyes (the spotlight from last night was very unmerciful), I was startled by the still body sitting in front of me. Rachel sat on the floor, knees casually pulled to her chest with her chin resting atop her loosely draped arms. Her smile was brilliant even in the scarce, dim light of early morning. When I realized the smile she wore was sincere, all the uncertainties of the previous evening vanished as my lips then mimicked hers.
"Good morning, baby." She stroked her hand through my hair as I blinked away my morning haze and yawned.
"Mm, morning. What time is it?" I asked, already aware that it would be no later than 7:00.
"It's 7:00." Bingo. Like clockwork, literally. A weekend of new and glorious sex that pushed my body and my mind to the limits, almost a full 12 hours of constant teasing, and a mental epiphany that Dr. Phil himself would've needed a drink after, and still, here I was awake at 7:00 in the freaking morning. I sighed at the rueful comfort that offered me.
"How long have you been sitting there, creepily watching your girlfriend sleep?" I smirked at her in an attempt to keep that smile on her face a bit longer and to push away any awkwardness I was feeling after my actions the night before.
"Oh, not long." She granted my wish and smiled brightly, then pressed on with a much-appreciated change of subject. "I was hoping we could have some breakfast together before my dads return home."
I nodded against the pillow under my head, but made no effort to move from my position. We both stayed there, her hand still threading through my messy locks, looking at each other. Something had happened between us last night, and with her looking at me the way she was, I almost, for the first time, felt like I was perhaps good enough for the amazing Rachel Berry.
Shortly after our contented staring contest, we had shared a pleasant meal talking about school the next week, the benefits of eating a well-rounded diet, and how completely unfair it was that we would have to share a room at National's. Apparently my totally hot girlfriend had some plans that were now going to be spoiled in light of us bunking with Santana and Brittany. Little did she realize rooming with them probably wouldn't exactly spoil our plans, it would simply add two participants, knowing them…which would be…fuck me. That would be hot. Santana and Brittany and Rachel and...
Fabray!
What?
Cool it before you get yourself into some trouble, huh?
Yup. The rest of the morning proved fairly uneventful, dirty foursome fantasy aside… that is, until I reached her front door on my way out. Rachel pulled me into her pressing her t-shirt and underwear clad body against me. I felt the heat from her smooth thighs sear into mine. She felt warmer than usual and I wondered for a minute if her psychic ability patched into my earlier "trio plus me" fantasy. Her hands wove themselves around my waist, applying an even, full pressure to my lower back. Looking down into her eyes, I saw a glimmer of adoration and hunger masked by the seriousness of a politician.
"Quinn…"
"Yeah?"
"Before you go, I just wanted to say that… I love you and that… I think I love you more right now than I have in our entire six month courtship. Now, I know last night may have been a bit… intense and new, not to mention incredibly hot…"
Her eyes swept beneath her lids as they darkened along with her cheeks as she no doubt recalled our activities. I nodded my agreement and wondered where she was going with this. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my HBIC was held on edge hoping she was going to be summoned back soon, but, damn it, if I didn't enjoy the dual pleasure of her being restrained and my body doing Rachel Berry's bidding. What can be said except that dominant Rachel Berry was my drug of choice. She shook the memory from her mind as she licked her lips and continued, silencing both my personas.
"But I want us to be clear about a couple of things…" her eyes cast a brief glance downwards between our melding bodies and then rejoined my gaze with a look I knew all too well. Fucking. Yes. Wait for it, Fabray…
"Number one—while the events of our previous evening together and the introduction of your more, um, assertive side not only continue to arouse me even as we speak, there should be no question that I still very much enjoy the role I've played in our sexual encounters. I do still intend to maintain my own assertiveness that has been displayed in past interactions. Do you understand what I'm saying,… Quinnie?"
There it is. That's my girl. I blinked as the excitement of her words pooled in my eyes and in the cotton beneath my shorts. Leave it to my girlfriend and her near obsessive need to express things in paragraphs.
Allow me to translate: "I thought it was hot how you dominated me last night, but that doesn't change the fact that I will still own you, bitch."
Shivers raced through me as my HBIC pouted and the bottom in me shouted a resounding, "Yes, please!" I smiled and breathed out shakily as I choked back the embarrassment of how turned on I was at her words. I couldn't help but feel a release of tension I didn't know was hiding in the muscles of my shoulders, and I answered her.
"Yes, I understand completely."
Her seriousness left without a trace as her bottom lip was coaxed between her teeth by her fetching tongue, and her eyes smiled at mine, her brow quirking up at my response. She recognized this as me falling back into the routine that satisfied and appealed to us both. It was one thing for me to understand that Rachel and I were equals in love, but truth be told, I was completely content to let her take the lead in anything sexual. I chalk it up to her excellence in the arts, a type of creative genius when it came to pleasing me.
"Good girl. You don't know how pleased I am to hear that. Then we can continue. Thing number two…"
Her voice was like sex in the morning—whispered and raw and sensual and dreamy. I didn't want to 'wake' out of my intoxication caused by the change in tone. My eyes shut tightly and I waited desperately for the next item on her agenda as her fingertips toyed with hem of my tank top. Focused on the feeling of her fingernails skimming my rapidly heating flesh, I was pleasantly distracted when I felt her lips softly part over my collar bone and a light suck pull at the skin covering it, her tongue pressing sensually at the opening of her mouth. My Barbra, she knew how to melt me.
"…If my memory serves me correctly, Quinn," she ghosted over my skin, "I believe you and I still have some unfinished business regarding a bet.. that has yet to be paid in full."
Sweet Cheesus.
Rachel didn't say another word that morning as I left, but instead kissed me, pressing her lips to mine evenly. Then she stepped back from our embrace, turned on heel, and opened her front door, escorting me out. I was too turned on to ask what she had in store and I knew she wouldn't have told me if I was able to formulate the words. So, without a clue as to what would happen in the following days, I drove home to ponder.
Five days later, on Friday afternoon, Rachel made her way to my locker as I placed my books inside. She approached me from behind and leaned forward delivering her greeting in my ear.
"Hi, Quinnie."
It was low and dripping of sex.
"Fuck," I said at a whisper as I dropped the last of my textbooks, tumbling over the edge of the locker to the floor.
"Language," she purred and my knees buckled.
Really, Rachel? This from the girl whose bedroom vernacular would make a porn star blush? I instinctively bent down to pick up the book and as I moved to stand again, I noticed the legs that caused a constant drought in my mouth. My eyes trailed a bit more slowly than my body, but as I reached her waist just above her criminally short skirt, I stopped. There in her hands was a gold gift bag donning a white ribbon. My brow knit together as I suddenly panicked.
The fuck? Shit, is it some sort of anniversary? No, I don't think so. What am I missing?
I stood up quickly, searching for an answer in Rachel's expression. There was none to my chagrin. At this point, if it was something I overlooked, I was already screwed, so I decided to be honest.
"Sorry, Rachel. H-hey. What is that?" I gestured to her package and she smiled.
"This?" She held the bag up and I nodded dumbly. "It's for you. It's not for anything in particular so you can relax." My shoulders eased. "I just thought you would maybe like to, perhaps, wear these… tonight."
"Um, okay, we were going out tonight and then hanging out with your dads, right?" I was perplexed by what the bag might hold. We were supposed eat out tonight (no pun intended), then join the father figures for game night.
"Oh, yes, we are. It's nothing. Really," she said with her dazzling show smile.
I should've known then that this was definitely not going to be 'nothing.' My mind tried to configure as many possibilities as I could fathom. She was brushing past me on her way out of school when I rejoined my surroundings, and I turned as she stopped by my side.
"I still very much… want to be seen with you tonight. Be sure to wear them along with that blue skirt I like, would you? I'd hate to be disappointed."
The words she left me with seemed out of place. I felt like they were familiar, but I know she's never said them. It didn't make sense. We were always out and seen. From the start of our relationship and based on the fact that both of us hadn't had the best track record with prior relationships, we decided that openness would be the best bet. Since then we went to the movies and restaurants, the theater and the mall, all the while holding each other and sharing public pecks. I turned to question her words, only to be met with the sight of my sexy-assed girlfriend pushing through the front doors.
What the hell did she mean?
Two hours later, standing in front of my bathroom mirror, I sized up the 'gift' my clearly shameless girlfriend gave me. My eyes second-guessed the fabric in my hands as I tried to unscramble the confusion associated with the situation. Why would Rachel buy me sexy underwear to wear on a night we were to spend in public and with her fathers. It didn't add up, and it troubled me seeing as I was particularly competent in math.
To make matters more perplexing, the garment seemed heavy and the crotch of the damn panties felt as though it held something hidden between the layers. I examined them beneath my fingertips, steeled myself in the mirror, and breathed out once more before I slipped them on, finding that they fit snugly to my skin and tight to my clit under the blue skirt Rachel loved so much. I had a feeling this was going to be a long night.
It was six o'clock when I threw my car in park in front of Rachel's house. I sat slightly uncomfortably in the present my loving girlfriend gave me, waiting in the car as her text requested of me. A few moments later, I caught sight of the very Berry men sending their daughter out of the house with a hug and kiss from both of them. She skipped lightheartedly from them as they said their goodbyes. I smiled and waved at them from the car and they offered me a similar gesture. Both of them loved me from the beginning. I got skills—what can I say?
Rachel got in the car and leaned in to kiss me chastely as per our routine when her fathers were watching. I knew as soon as we reached the stop sign, she would drop the innocent act and take what was hers. We pulled to the stop at the end of her street and I turned out of reflex, waiting for her to kiss me deeply. Instead, she met my eyes and smiled approvingly as she took in my attire.
"Sweetie, with you on my arm, looking like that…" her voice trailed off as her eyes devoured me. "Let's give this town a light, shall we?"
She slowly leaned in and pressed a steamy open-mouth kiss to the skin on my neck, and as I tried to process both her sexiness and her words, something triggered in my brain telling me the latter was familiar. As she retreated back to her place in the passenger seat, I raked my eyes over her. She wore dark blue skin-tight jeans that hugged her well and a cream colored peasant blouse that hung off of one shoulder. I mentally high-fived myself. Damn hot, Fabray. Smiling at that, I pushed on the gas, heading for dinner.
We arrived at the restaurant and were immediately seated. Rachel had called ahead and made arrangements for us to have the table center of the restaurant. It wasn't usually our style to sit in the open. Not that we were ashamed, it's just that both of us held similar beliefs on an acceptable amount of PDA and a more private corner allowed us to push our boundaries a bit.
As the hostess seated us adjacent to each other at the four-person table, I subconsciously made note that my girlfriend stopped humming. For the entirety of the drive, Rachel had hummed a familiar tune, never outright singing the lyrics, but it was something I knew. The humming itself was something I was used to by now. It was Rachel Berry—music flowed from her in one form or another. I personally preferred the dirty form of reaching those high notes.
We ordered from our menus and sat quietly until Rachel spoke up as the waiter walked away.
"You look beautiful tonight, Quinn. You wore the skirt I asked you to, and I can't help but think you're like glitter decorating my arm."
I smiled brightly as the compliment. Rachel always had a way to bring everything back to something sparkly. It was just her personality.
"I can only hope you were as accommodating…" she looked at me pointedly as I shifted, the unyielding crotch somewhat rubbing deliciously against my bundle of nerves, "with the other item I requested you wear."
I blushed slightly at her words and greatly at the current expression on her face. It said she wanted dinner but nothing from the restaurants selections. Later, I would be more than happy to oblige. Thank Barbra for her sound-proofed room.
"I take that as a yes then. Good girl," she said, curling her mouth into a wicked smirk.
I stared at her lips, unable to match her eyes and she continued with the one sided conversation, reveling in the fact that my mouth was too dry to contribute. She leaned into my shoulder.
"How do they feel, Quinnie?"
I gulped visibly as I sought out more instruction. "What do you mean?" I asked in a voice I didn't recognize. It was small and unsure.
About that time, the waiter returned with refills on our waters. Setting them down in front of us, he assured us our meals were on their way.
Ohmygod. Saved by the waiter, Fabray! Don't make eye contact with her. Maybe she will forget the question. And for fuck's sake, drink some water you puss!
I reached for the newly replenished beverage to wet my throat and as the glass touched my lips, I heard Rachel say something against my ear that made no amount of water able to quench the dryness in my mouth.
"It's time to pay up, Quinnie…"
Instantly and simultaneously, I felt all the moisture in my body flood the newly purchased garment under my blue skirt and a wave of fear and arousal slice through my heart and abdomen. My eyes shot wide open as I became aware of the consequences of that statement and that the water that was asking entrance at my lips was now lightly trickling down my chin.
I spluttered clumsily against the clear liquid and in haste put the glass down, my hand resting flat against the table beside it. I looked up trying to recover and dabbed my napkin at the corner of my mouth trying to save face as my eyes darted to meet those of the distracted patrons.
Rachel fell easily into the role of doting girlfriend as she addressed me with mock concern, "Quinn, are you okay, baby?" Her smile was sickeningly sweet and her big doe eyes laughed at me.
"Uh-hhm, of course." I said trying desperately to swallow not only my embarrassment but any type of moisture I could use to fight against the dryness.
"Oh, thank goodness," she patted my arm and took up residence at my side once more.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck fuck. She can't be serious. Please be joking.
I must have said that last part out loud because Rachel's voice immediately cut through my internal panicky rambling.
"Quinnie, you know I wouldn't joke about such things," she said evenly as she scooted her chair closer to me.
I noticed something in her lap that I assumed was her cell phone, however it wasn't bedazzled which struck me as odd. Leaving that thought, I prepared to brace myself to pay up. I was going to take my consequence like a woman, but only after a little bit of begging. I argued with my inner voice that maybe I could make it up to her later.
"Rachel, please." I gritted my teeth and let my eyes soak in the pure mortification that swelled in my brain. My heart was racing and it fueled my hissed pleading. "Please, baby, not here. Please? We're in public! I can pay up at ho—OH MY GOD!"
My hushed words soon cried out as the firm piece hidden between the fabric layers at my core vibrated vigorously. My right hand slammed down on the table, my back sat upright against the back of the chair, and my eyes clenched shut in their sockets as the ripples from the device stopped suddenly. I sat there dumbly as I sought frantically to put the pieces together. Somewhere in the back of my mind it registered that Rachel was sitting tightly against my shoulder. I blinked trying to connect the dots of my current surroundings—I was wearing vibrating panties, Rachel's body was as snug against mine as possible in public, people were now blatantly staring at us, and to top it off, our food was approaching the table.
Rachel sat back in her chair a bit as "Rob" set our food in front of us. I stared blankly at the sustenance that no longer held any appeal. My all-too-calm girlfriend thanked the boy who looked at me with a worried gaze. She saw it and replied loudly enough for all our onlookers to hear.
"Oh, sorry. Don't worry about her. She just found out that Barbra Streisand was forced to share her title as Best Actress for her role in 1968's critically acclaimed musical, Funny Girl. Damn that Katharine Hepburn!"
Rob's brow creased and with two quick side glances, he left in a hurry. As Rachel readied her place setting before her, she took her napkin in her lap. My eyes followed the movement, and I fixed them on the contraption on her right hip. It wasn't a freaking cell phone; it looked like a damn remote. Shit, shit, shit. She found her place next to me again and the heat she was radiating made my skin feel like a damn flambé dish. Leaning into me, she broke the awkwardness and sent everyone back to their own conversations.
"Quinn, sweetie, eat." She pointed at my plate. "You'll want to eat while it's still hot and moist."
Fuck my life. I gathered as much stubbornness as I could and turned to her one more time.
"Rachel," I said firmly in a low tone, "Not here for Barbra's sake! There are too many people and we are in the middle of a popular eating establishment. Think about this. What are these people going to think?"
I kept a stern look etched in my face as I searched hers for understanding. There wasn't any to be found. Her eyes shone with an evil glint that made me want to die and come at the same time.
Holding her arm flush against mine, she whispered, looking up at me, "Now, naturally such proximity, gives rumors a rise."
"What are you even talking about?" I hissed angrily at her, knowing I would have to grovel my way out of the stubbornness later. We were still getting strange looks every once in awhile and it started grating on my nerves as I lifted my first bite into my mouth. Bzzzzzzz. The light humming that began again was masked by the ambient music of the restaurant as the foreign object down below offered its damn-too-pleasurable services to my clit. It stopped my worry over the unknowing voyeurs and snapped my attention to the increasing need that rushed to the affected area. I clamped down on the fork to save myself some embarrassment from the moan that was now rolling off my tongue. "MMMmmm…"
An exaggerated sound of approval rippled down my fork as I hoped our fellow diners associated it with the taste of the food I was currently trying to swallow. Not that anything at this restaurant was that good.
Pleased as punch with herself, Rachel spoke to me quietly. "Is it good, Quinnie?"
"Y-yes, I mean, no… I mean…"
"It's a simple question, baby. Is it good? Yes?" she chuckled. "Or… no?"
She punctuated the latter with a clicked increase in speed of the vibrator pinned between the chair and my hooded bundle of nerves. Thank Cheesus, these chairs were padded or else I think it would've rattled like a Bumble ball on a hardwood floor.
"AA-agh, it's good. It's good."
She slowed it down to the previous setting and smiled widely. I gaped at her and for a moment considered seriously kicking her hard under the table. Noticing another of my outbursts, Rachel smiled at the audience we had gained because of it and went back to her plate. As she took another bite of her vegan pasta, she sang softly through her delicate chewing.
"We'll let them analyze, what our amalgamation implies…"
"OH YES!" I interjected as she intensified the vibration licking at my center. My eyes shut dramatically, and I forced the food from my utensil into my mouth, using the bite of bland food to hide my reaction to the frenzy in my core. I dropped the fork to the plate and grasped at the edge of the table with my left hand. My right shot down to Rachel's thigh and squeezed hard.
Holy fuck. I was behaving like I was straight out of that damn scene from When Harry Met Sally. The patrons around us were now clearly intrigued and quite uncomfortable the latter of to which I could relate. A thin layer of sweat covered my brow and the growing need of release found its familiar place in my lower abdomen. I steadied my shaky breathing and looked over at Rachel. She met my eyes and sang again.
"The gossips will press, so willing to stress…"
The tune she was humming earlier seemed amplified in my ears as the lyrics she sang now matched it. I turned my attention to the background music of the restaurant wondering if it was simply ringing in my ears or if in fact the track was actually playing. It was. The fucking restaurant was playing the fucking instrumental version of a fucking Funny Girl song. What is the name of that fucking song?
"The seamy side—" She winked at me as I begrudgingly picked up my fork in an attempt to maintain some normalcy in my appearance. "Know what?" Another click from under the table.
"MMMmmm." I moaned as I tried to swallow whatever it was from my plate that I had just shoveled in my mouth. My poor fork became a hostage as my hand gripped it securely, my knuckles turning white. I wasn't going to last much longer and neither was the pronged metal. I tried to take another bite and focus on my chewing. It wasn't fucking helping.
"So what!" she sang and clicked again.
"Oh shit! Rachel!" I hissed. I had never been more simultaneously thankful for and irritated with background music in a restaurant. I'm sure the fellow customers would express their gratitude for the obnoxious musical track had they known the truth behind my overtly sexual outbursts.
"I want to be seen, be seen with you, with you on my arm…"
There it was—in all its fucking glory. I Want to be Seen with You Tonight. As was usual for the previous weekend, I felt like the last person to understand how it all fit together. Fucking Rob probably even knew. The tune began its second round of playing (no doubt arranged by Rachel), and I came to the realization that all of this was a set-up. She was dropping hints all night just as she had last weekend.
'I still very much… want to be seen with you tonight.'
'Sweetie, with you on my arm, looking like that… Let's give this town a light, shall we?'
And my personal favorite… 'and I can't help but think you're like glitter decorating my arm.'
You're so dense, Fabray!
I was brought out of my internal chastising by the muffled click of the remote.
"OH, for the love of everything holy!" I blurted frantically.
The vibes from the offending device pulsed through me deliciously, and I valiantly tried to keep my hips from rocking back and forth in my seat. I was still in public after all and I refused to hump a chair like a wild beast. Opening my eyes again, I noticed that my dinner plate was taken from me and a perfect piece of apple pie sat waiting. Somewhere along the public spectacle of my impending orgasm, Rob had managed to swap my barely eaten entrée with a most delectable looking dessert. But, fuck, if I didn't care about the fucking apple pie. People around us were staring once more, especially a seemingly prudish old woman that wore nothing but a scowl since Rach and I walked in, so I said fuck her, too, and came up with an excuse for my rather embarrassing words.
"That's, uh, mmm… good looking pie."
"I Want to be Seen with You, Tonight" was making its second round to where Rachel left off, and I wondered how much more of the public torture I was going to have to take. On cue as expected, the goddess herself began again, quietly in my ear as I focused on the hot pie filling seeping from beneath the golden crust.
"Let's give this town a light…"
Suddenly the vibrations weren't a constant beat and began to assault me in waves of varied intensity. My eyes rolled back, and I couldn't stop the groan that tumbled over my open lips. Before I knew what was happening, a taste of apple pie found its home on my tongue. Surprised, I opened my eyes to see Rachel's lust-filled orbs locking with mine and her hand steadily taking the fork from my mouth. She was so turned on, I think she was in more agony than me. She was practically in my lap now and the hand that had once been squeezing her thigh had been meticulously and stealthily repositioned between her thighs. Once I realized this, the warmth that enveloped my hand transferred straight to the heat between my own legs.
Finish me, please. I begged silently through my blown pupils and as if she heard me, she nodded subtly.
"…and hit it like…"
"Mmmmm," I moaned out shamelessly as another bite of apple pie smothered my taste buds and the vibrator switched to a back-and-forth pulsing of what I assumed was the two highest levels. I was so close. "It's so good," I panted, swallowing the pie but regarding the tremors ripping through my core.
Rachel leaned in closer and kissed the shell of my ear, dragging her tongue over it under the cover of my hair. The sensation was just enough as she whispered the remaining lyrics.
"…a me-te-or-ITE..."
"Ohmygod!" I was fed another bite, swallowing it almost whole, as the explosions ignited burning fiercely and rippling from my center. I smashed my lips together in an effort to stop the profanities, but when Rachel reached the second syllable of 'tonight' a second wave of pleasure tore through me. I gripped the tablecloth and the denim found under my fingers and I let out a cry that was sure to take our dinner from PG to NC-17 in an instant. "Rachel… fu-hmhph!"
It took a moment for my brain to catch up with my now engaged lips. Rachel had leaned over and kissed me in order to save the restaurant-goers' ignorance. So at that very moment, we sat there lip-locked in the middle of a very crowded public dining establishment as my girlfriend kissed me through the after-effects of the orgasm she gave me from vibrating panties. It doesn't get much more fucked up than that.
When the last of my shivers faded, Rachel pulled away slightly, her forehead and nose still brushing mine. Her eyes fluttered open, hunger and want running rampant as they transfixed my own, and her breathing was labored and desperate when she finished the verse.
"I want to be seen with you…" She wanted me again. I could hear the need laced in her voice.
"Um, excuse me, ladies. I-Is everything okay over here?"
We left our bubble of desire and anticipation to turn and look at Rob. Poor guy—he had no idea what just happened at one of his tables. Still stunned into silence, Rachel took control of the situation and put her best show face on. It never ceased to amaze me how quickly she could fall into character.
"Oh, Rob, yes. My girlfriend, Quinn, here just absolutely adores apple pie and yours, Robbie," she raised her eyebrows as she continued, "is the best in town."
'Robbie' blushed at the sentiment and nodded, shuffling a bit with his feet before responding. "I see. Eh-ehm," he cleared his throat and glanced between the both of us, "Then will there be anything else I can get you two this evening?"
With no hesitation, I blurted our response loudly. "No, Rob! Just the check!" Rachel's face whipped around to mine, scowling lightly. "Please." I added as an afterthought.
Seemingly pleased by the politeness at the end of my conversation with Rob and the diminishing stares we were receiving, my girlfriend drew closer and mumbled under her breath, "Hot."
When Rob returned with our check, we paid the bill in cash, being sure to leave our trooper of a waiter a hefty tip to compensate for our behavior. And as Rachel practically dragged me from the restaurant, I couldn't help but bend down to the elderly lady who watched Rachel and me with disgust the entire evening and whisper huskily, "I recommend the apple pie. It's orgasmic!"
A/N #4: Coming up… Quinn realizes Rachel didn't get to finish the song. This should make "game night" very interesting in the Berry household…