Chapter 24

It went off without a hitch. John didn't know if he should be lucky or skeptical that all their plans seemed to work out perfectly. Billie walked only a few blocks away from her house in the dimming light of day. John couldn't help but frown when he thought about her mother allowing her out into the night, alone. Wasn't she at all worried? He knew he would be worried sick. For a moment if was enough for him to feel grateful for picking her up, regardless of their own plans. At least she would be safe.

When Billie entered the car they embraced each other. It was longer than usual, and they both could feel a change in the air. The energy was different.

They had both been doing some deep thinking. John contemplated on whether or not that night he should tell Billie. It was eating away at his core, but somewhere he was still telling himself that if they had more time, if he could pretend to be something different he would have her. Completely. All the time he was playing as Jimmy would only back up what he wanted; it was to his advantage. He had to think that way because the opposition was, in the worst case, devastating.

Billie pondered the evening ahead of her. It had consumed her thoughts up until that moment, and even still she was weighed down with it all. A man was asking her to his apartment for the night. The fact that they were meeting at night, and for the whole night, made this encounter different. It insinuated a whole different kind of relationship between them. Is that what he wanted, why he planned the evening? Had her assumptions been correct that he was merely waiting for this point where she accepted his invitation into his home, his bed?

"Dinner" was the intention- the spoken intention. Though inexperienced Billie was well aware of men, or at least rumors about men. They had certain needs; physical appetites. She was well aware that he thought of her as a woman and he expected that out of her. When she agreed to be his girl she agreed to this kind of thing- to be his companion, confidant, and lover. When she stopped to think of it she knew she wanted the same out of him. She had a right to be nervous, but she could not be resentful or suspicious. She had let herself into this place and she did want to be there.

They held hands upon the seat of the car. John raised their connected fingers and brought the back of her hand to his lips, kissing it. She felt his lips, soft and full. She wondered what else he would come to kiss.

She had packed an overnight bag, just as she would to spend the night elsewhere from home. Inside were all the usual amenities and knowing, or unknowing, of what she would encounter that night she had dressed carefully. She wore a simple dress though one she considered tasteful and sleek, and she had taken great care in choosing her undergarments. The car began to slow and she could see out into the first shadows of darkness a tall building with may windows. One of those rooms was where she'd be spending her night.

Leaving the car John carried her bag. They ascended up many staircases, quiet, but remaining at each others side excitedly. Billie watched him reach a door in long a hallway, remembering the number 307, and saw him fool with a chain of keys. There were many; she wondered what their uses were. When the door opened there was more darkness inside, he stepping back to allow her to enter before himself. She could see nothing. She was aware that she stood upon tile, and the place smelled less like him and more of stagnant hotel room.

There was illumination. Billie saw that she stood in a small kitchen. A refrigerator stood behind her and appliances that looked like they'd never been used. In front of her were counters, designating the kitchen area from a living space. Further inside she saw a sofa and sitting area, and barely hidden inside another doorway was a large bed. Somewhere there must have been a bathroom hiding as well. The door closed behind her with a small click and his footsteps sounded, passing her and walking to the living room where he put her bag down on the couch. She saw at the side of the room where a small table with a heavy cloth and two chairs had been set up.

"Dinner should be here any minute," he said lightly, joining her in the kitchen. She turned to give him a smile, they standing a small distance apart. A moment of silence occurred between them. At the risk of it turning awkward Billie looked past him, seeing the perfectly clean counters and spotless gadgets.

"You don't cook in here," she stated with a smile. John followed her a gaze and laughed, shaking his head.

"No, I don't. You wouldn't want me to."

She smirked, turning around and running her hand along the surface. There were no crumbs, no dirt or grime. Leaning against the counter she hoisted herself up, sitting at the side of the sink. "I could never do this anywhere else," she teased, settling in.

He watched her with a growing smirk of his own. Slowly he moved toward her, resting his hands on her knees. When he was that close Billie opened her arms, inviting him to her. They molded together naturally. She parted her knees slightly to allow him to rest against the counter, his arms around her, hers lightly touching his sides. She'd never been in such a position before; it was asking for his advances, physically. For a brief moment she thought she felt the bulge of his pants brush against her leg.

Was she causing that? She thought of herself sitting there in a provocative pose made even more sensual by the man that stood before her. Was she being sexy? She told herself it didn't quite matter, that all that was important was what he thought and what he liked. His body felt like a mystery compared to hers, but a glorious one. He was lean but fleshy; the feeling of his skin softened his edge. He was not some kind of perfect stone statue but sensitive and pliable just as she. She allowed her hands to move from his sides and travel with her palms open to feel every inch she covered.

Starting around his torso she smoothed her hands over him, over his dress shirt and the undershirt she felt below, and slowly moved upward. John let his head rest near her shoulder, his eyes closing as he felt her hands over him. His mind became blank. There was little he could think about clearly. In the crook of her neck he got a light wisp of perfume, or maybe it was all her. He raised his head and her neck arched, he dragging his face so close to her skin that his nose traced his route, his lips sometimes brushing as well.

"What did you do while we were apart?" he whispered, his breath warm and tickling her neck. She smiled slightly.

"I thought about you," she replied, basking in the sensations she felt. Where once before there was doubt she now felt instinct cater to her desires. There were natural urges she suddenly wanted to quench. He grinned and she could feel it. His lips moved against her skin and she felt his mouth rest against her neck, eager and ready for him to pout his lips in a kiss...

There were knocks at the door and his lips, as well as his general closeness disappeared. John gulped and moved from her, her hands falling on his body but still touching until they no longer could. She wanted him there, he knew it and the thought almost made him drool.