Chapter 27[M]

Hearing her call him by that awful name had indeed stalled him- but only for a moment. Billie didn't think she was making love with him, but Jimmy Lawrence. It was almost enough to destroy his arousal; it was up there with thinking of things like maggots; prison, federal agents, his grandmother; Jimmy Lawrence. He shut his eyes, disgustingly distracted, and begged himself to pull it together. They were so close. He was on the verge of perhaps one of the greatest moments in his life. He was sure his hesitation was more than noticed and he arched up, looking to Billie.

She was laid back on the pillow, her hair sprawled out around her, her chest rising and falling with anxious breaths. His eyes watched the sensuous moment. He was feeling better already. Aware of his gaze she turned her head, her piercing blue eyes assaulting him and her lusty lips pouted. He felt himself back to normal.

Beneath him her legs moved, inviting him. They starred at one another the whole while. John's breath became more shallow, his body beginning to shake. Their bodies touched. His stomach brushed against hers, their thighs, hips and their most intimate of parts. He watched her gulp again, a shadow of apprehension in her face. As their regions collided he felt himself buckling again and a look crossed his face that masqueraded as pain.

"B-illie," he squeaked. Clearing his throat choppily he tried again, heavy eyes gazing to hers. "Billie...we don't...if...do you want-"

"Yes," she whimpered. "...yes..." She closed her eyes again, her head rolling gently on the pillow. "...please..."

She'd said please. His mind shut down and his body turned on. His lips crashed down into hers. Their bodies became one. Billie's lips parted from his and turned roughly to the side, her breathing heavy, her eyes closed tight. There was the slightest bit of moisture welling from the corner of her eye. The moment was a kind of shock for her. John tried to be still, her raking breath unnerving him. He extended his hand, his knuckles running alone the satin skin of her cheek. Her eyes popped open but they still gazed away into the dark expanse of the room. The water near her eye started to droop but before it could turn into a tear his finger halted the momentum.

Drawing his hand downward he placed his fingers on her jaw and turned her face toward him. She obliged easily. Her expression was unreadable to him.

"Are you alright?" he whispered so close to her it was almost inaudible. Slowly she nodded, her eyes fluttering downward heavily. "Look at me," he breathed, and then to soften the rough edge of his voice, "please."

He was in control, Billie at his mercy. When he asked her to look at him she did so naturally but couldn't help thinking how any request he made she was sure to allow. Above her he looked intently down into her eyes, concentrated and concerned, and the emotion pouring from his dark eyes settled over her. She managed a small smile. She reached up and touched his cheek, he leaning into her palm, and she then brushed a straggling stand of dark hair away from his forehead. Her hand continued to run through his hair, soon stroking the nape of his neck.

Slowly, guided by John, their bodies began a paced movement.

"Kiss me," she rasped. John obeyed quickly, their mouths moving with their bodies in unison. This lasted for some time until her breathing became too suffocated and when parted from his lips moans were released from her breath and circled the room. It wasn't long after that when John too emitted noises. Soon Billie became an equal participant in their love, clinging and grasping at his body. An unknown, limitless amount of time passed. Billie's body began to tense, overcome with a blinding sensation that suddenly erupted, plummeted, whirled, consumed, numbed.

Then her body fell back against the bed, shaking and exhausted.

- - -

Billie's eyes fluttered open. She felt heavy and unusual. She refrained from moving, taking the seconds to comprehend what was happening and due to the fact that she felt she couldn't. Glancing down she realized the mans arm was wrapped around her waist and his head rested close to her own. He was snoring in her ear. Loud. His boisterous, nasally sleeping sounds were not something her fantasies of Jimmy had included. She believed it was probably this uproar that had roused her in the first place. He was still unclothed, she could feel that, and parts of their bodies including some intimate realms were snuggled close.

As she remained still some minutes passed. She contemplated moving or simply sleeping again. She soon realized there would be no sleeping with the symphony emitting from his nose. Her current position had become uncomfortable, having remained so for an unknown amount of time, but moving was more complicated than it sounded. When she could take it no longer Billie decided to make her moves slowly. She tried to shrink under his arm and twist. The hesitance of her movements was done so he would not wake, but after unsuccessful tries the attempt was dismissed. She would move swiftly, quickly.

For a shifting second she pushed hard against his hold and laid on her back- his arm still around her middle but his head a few inches away. His snoring had stopped but only for a moment. It hadn't been enough to rouse him fully from sleep and again, though slightly softer, the snoring commenced. She sighed. What was she to do? Glancing to her side she observed him while he slept. Dark lashes rested against his cheek, his lips pouted. Even in dreams he was beautiful. Again Billie felt honored to witness him in such a vulnerable state. He trusted her to see him when he was completely powerless.

The light behind the windows, behind the thick long curtains was a shade of gray. It had to be morning, but very early. Billie was aware that she was not only restless, but in need of the facilities. She would have liked to get up. Was it wrong to leave the bed before him, without him being awake? Was it insulting? She did not know. She wasn't even sure if there was some etiquette to follow. She had never slept in the same bed with another man, romantically, and she had certainly never made love to one. Parts of her were changed forever when she didn't even know the rules, if there even were any. The act had happened even without her being aware of any, so she wondered if it weren't fine to simply react naturally.

In the next room was the sitting area and the kitchen. An urge came over her that she should make breakfast. She recalled the cabinets in the kitchen she had seen the night before and noted they were almost empty. Would he even have enough food to make a meal? It didn't matter, she would try. He would like that, wouldn't he? It would prove that she was a capable and useful presence to him. That's what a woman would do, and more than anything she wanted to be a woman for him.

She would lift his arm and move out from under him. Watching his face the whole while she gently hoisted his arm by the wrist and scooted to the edge of the bed, standing shakily and placing his arm down slowly. Again there were breaks in his snoring but as she stood still, waiting, it came back fluently. She was free. She was embarrassed, even though no one but herself could see, that she was half-naked. Moving through the room she saw her dress on the floor and scooped it up. She walked slowly and on her tip-toes though it was laughable to think of the sounds his snoring could mute.

Walking to the living room she went for her bag. It rested on the sofa where Jimmy had put it the night before. She pulled a simple day dress from it and then proceeded to move toward the bathroom. Halfway there she became aware of a constant sound, one scratchy but containing hints of voices. The radio that was on the night before had never been turned off. Padding toward it she flipped the switch, ceasing the noise, and returned toward the intended direction. With a glance toward the table for two in the living room she was relived to see the candles had burned themselves out, likely only a matter of minutes after they were left unattended.

The bathroom was small but contained all the needed elements. The tub even contained a shower head protruding high on the wall. Billie starred into the mirror. She tried to see if she looked any different. To her surprise there was nothing stamped on her forehead that told the world of her lost purity. Her cheeks were rather flushed but she was feeling warm, and her lips were a deeper shade of pink. She recalled his kisses, countless, and the light nibbles from his teeth. Carefully she turned her head here and there, examining her neck for any noticeable marks. There was at least nothing prominent that couldn't be easily explained by anything else.

She changed and washed her face. Fully awake now and comfortable she entered the large expanse of the apartment. The little table stood looming and disheveled. Her first task was cleaning and clearing it. It would be the perfect space to serve breakfast. There was some bread left over which she would use, and when inspecting his refrigerator she found only necessities but enough to hold for a breakfast. Milk, eggs, peanut butter (which she wondered what he put on since there had been no bread), box cereal, coffee, one can of soup, mayonnaise (another mystery), and a half eaten apple starting to bruise. When she looked for utensils they were perfectly clean to the point where they appeared to never have been used.

While making the meal at one point Billie's grip on the frying pan loosened, it landing on the stove with a rather loud bang. It was this noise that woke John, though thanks to the quiet afterward he was unsure exactly what had roused him and where it had come from. All he was completely aware of was that the girl who'd been in his arms was no longer there, and arching on his elbow he realized she was not elsewhere on the bed or even in the room. Apprehensive, he wondered if she'd left? Was the noise he'd heard the front door closing after her? A sick feeling churned in his stomach. He quickly stepped into his underwear and stumbled into the next room.

The lights assaulted him, but more importantly he noticed a familiar figure in the kitchen. He smelled coffee. There was also a sound; airy and soft and melodic. She was humming. John approached at a slower pace and Billie noticed him. She was placing the dishes on the table and slid into the kitchen to finish. Looking up as he neared the other side of the counter she felt her face hot, recalling their intimacy, and in favor of his appearance. He wore only the flimsy boxer shorts, his sculpted physic exposed, and his eyes were heavy lidded while his hair dangled over them and every which way upon his head.

"Billie?" His voice was soft, groggy from sleep. "What are you doin', doll?"

"I made breakfast."

Her voice, the delicate accented melody of it stunned him again. He wondered if he'd ever get used to its effect. All over again he recalled their night together, how lucky he felt to have made love to to her, she who breathed that voice, with the eyes of sapphires, the face of an angle and the body of a nymph with the heart of a saint. He was staggered by all this until he watched her glance away and followed her direction. He saw the plates on the table and finally realized what she had said.

"What? You didn't have to do that."

It was completely unexpected and, he considered the notion just for his sake much too kind. He didn't think he deserved all the effort she had put in (even he didn't use his own kitchen for cooking), and began to feel guilty for having the previous dinner delivered. It would have been generous to make it himself, romantic even, but he knew it would have been a disaster.

"I wanted to," she said softly, bringing his cup of coffee to the table. She stood by the chair and gestured to him. "Sit."

He smiled with a thousand emotions. "Come here," he whispered, opening his arms. He wanted to hold her, kiss her, have another moment with her before the day would continue. In a moment they were embracing, his grasp tight, and he brushed her cheek with his hand and kissed her. He moved to her cheek, covering it with more kisses until he simply hugged her tightly again. Over her shoulder he studied the table, still overwhelmed with her thoughtfulness. She seemed eager for him to dine and took hold of his hand, breaking their embrace to pull him toward the table.

As he neared he could see the setting completely, knowing that it looked different for she had cleaned it up from the night before. How long had she been awake? There was toast, poached eggs, and a mug of coffee. Seeing the eggs made just the way he liked caused him to grin. He sat down and Billie watched him, seeing that he eyed the food with approval. "Poached eggs," she told him proudly.

"Sweetheart, this is too much," he said happily, drawing her into his lap. As was becoming normal she drew her arm around his shoulder. He reached for the coffee, mug warm in his hand, and sipped. It was perfect; exactly the way he liked it. A little cream, no sugar. His eyes jolted to hers in shock. She was grinning. "How did you know?"

She had remembered of course, seeing him drink a cup of coffee one night at Mary's house. Such information, including his poached eggs and well done steak, were things she would not forget. "Do you like it?" she asked though the answer was clear.

"Of course."

"Taste it."

John drew his fork into the food, bringing it to his mouth. There was a moment while he chewed and his eyes closed, making an expression of pleasure. "Mmm! Perfect," he leaned forward and kissed her. There was another setting for Billie but she was too comfortable sitting where she was and not even entirely hungry. She settled into his lap and relaxed, quietly satisfied while he continued to eat his meal. After some more bites and slurps from the mug John leaned back in his seat. He released a heavy sigh and looked to her.

"You weren't there when I woke up." His voice was clearer, his body and mind awakening but his tone remained soft. He looked into her eyes, memorizing the hues of the colorful sphere, how the shade varied just slightly in a frayed circular from the black center. "I was worried."

Billie gave a small smile, leaning into him. She touched his cheek. "Worried?"

He was able to lighten up by her simple touch, his lips twitching into a smile of his own though what he spoke of was serious. "I thought something might have happened. That you'd left."

Billie placed her other hand on his face, gazing into his eyes closely. "Why would I do that?" she asked him lightly. He wasn't too sure himself, but if forced into thought he could come up with hundreds of answers. Instead he put faith into her words and leaned forward to kiss her once again.