My hand was tapping the steering wheel nervously as I sat parked on the side of the Court's runway waiting for Abe Mazur's plane to land with Alberta and Celeste. Dimitri had explained the plane would be coming in full – once word of a flight heading to Court got around, several Guardians had taken the opportunity to hitch a ride. Mazur had also made seats available for Dhampir students from the area to come home to visit their families for Christmas – although I suspect it was probably Rose who suggested he extend the offer. Either way, it was a kindness; there were several excited looking Dhampir women here waiting for their children to land.
I was nervous as hell; had been all day. I'd had to go into Guardian Headquarters earlier, so had worn a pair of new cargos I'd bought and a fine knit sweater. I'd modeled what I'd purchased on what Belikov wore. I wasn't kidding myself I was a six-foot-seven wall of sexy Russian as he was, but I'd noticed Rose slowly making over the man's off-duty wardrobe, and this was the sort of casual wear she put him in. It was a modern look I thought I could pull off.
I'd shaved and showered carefully. Shined my shoes, ironed my clothes and dressed. And when I'd walked into Guardian headquarters the hilarity had been immediate. The worst thing was, I had no idea why. I walked through headquarters hearing sniggers until I made my way to Erskine's office. I felt like such a fool. Mutton dressed as lamb. What the hell had I been thinking?
I could see Esme's lips twitching as I flung myself into a chair waiting for Mitchell. An unpromised Dhampir around my age, Esme had been my secretary and continued working for Mitchell once I'd stepped down as Chair of the Council. While we'd always had a professional relationship, we'd also known one another long enough to be honest with each other.
"What's so funny? After this, I finally have time off, so I have a chance to wear something casual, alright?!"
Esme looked at me apologetically.
"I'm sorry, you're right Art. It's just I've never seen cargos with a pleat ironed down the front. It's the least casual casual outfit I've seen," she explained.
"Oh. I only bought them the other day – I didn't realize they weren't worn that way," I said, my face flaming.
Perceptive, Esme probably had an idea I was trying to impress someone.
"Other than being a bit… starched… it's a really good look on you, Art," she complimented me. "Try taking off your belt and untucking your sweater." I did so immediately, and she smiled. She stood up and walked towards me. "May I?" she asked pointing to my hair.
I nodded. In for a dime, in for a dollar. She messed up my neat hair slightly, opening the bottom drawer of her desk to pull out a handbag sized tin of hairspray. She sprayed a bit in my hair – setting it in a casually tousled style.
"If you have time, put the cargos in the dryer for ten minutes. They'll still be wrinkle-free, but it will get rid of that pleat," she advised kindly. "And for future, jeans and cargos don't have pleats, both are usually worn more on the hips these days, shirts and sweaters are mostly worn tight but out, and a slightly messy look for hair or a bit of stubble looks sexy on a man."
"Thanks. I'm going to stay with friends for the holidays. It's been a long time since I've needed a week's worth of casual clothes, so I had to buy some new stuff," I mumbled.
"It suits you, Art. Lose the iron, and don't stress it if you go a day or two without shining your shoes or shaving. You're a sexy man – she'll love it!"
"What makes you think I'm doing this for a woman?" I asked indignantly, scrunching the legs of my pants in my hands to try and obscure the crease.
"Oh honey, a man only ever spruces up his look like this for a lady," she said with an indulgent smile.
I was saved the indignity of any further conversation by Erskine's arrival.
"Enjoy your week off, Art," Esme teased, her lilting voice echoing through the doorway as I followed Mitchell into his office.
"Thanks," I mumbled disconcertedly.
Esme had finished for the day when I departed, but as I walked back through the corridors, I was relieved to notice my appearance was no longer a cause for mirth.
Back at my quarters I quickly unpacked my duffel, pulling out my ironed cargos and jeans and throwing them into the dryer. Shaking and refolding them I packed them back into my duffel. Standing in front of the mirror, I had to admit Esme had done a good job on my hair. I still felt foolish, but it was too late to back out now. I opened the small jeweler's case, looking again at the bracelet I'd bought to give to Celeste. Heaven knows whether I'd have a chance to give it to her, but if not then in the New Year I was going to put myself out there and find someone special. I'd been a Guardian for thirty years. Moroi had always come first, and they still would. But I believed I'd earned some companionship.
I'd walked to the vehicle depot, picking up one of the top-of-the-line new SUVs. While cars were allegedly allocated randomly, my name generally commanded respect. A less senior Guardian signing a vehicle out for a week of personal use would be given the use of some old junker if their request were granted at all. But there was a scrupulously clean new SUV with a full tank of gas waiting for me.
"Will you need chains?" an obsequious young Guardian asked me. Even in the ignoble ranks of Court guarding, the motor pool was at the lower end of the pecking order.
"No, I don't think so Guardian…?"
"Aylett. Blake Aylett, Sir."
"Ahh, yes. I thought you looked familiar. You're the one who attacked Hathaway when she was pregnant, aren't you?"
"I didn't know she was pregnant at the time," he mumbled, looking at the ground.
"Still a very unmanly act."
"If she'd been any sort of a Guardian she should have been able to defend herself against me," he muttered petulantly.
I bristled.
"If you'd been any sort of a Guardian she wouldn't have had to. Making a stupid mistake is not a problem, an inability to own responsibility for it is more telling. Unless you want to be Guardian wash, vacuum, and polish for the rest of your career, I'd think on that young man. It's never too late to turn over a new leaf."
"But everyone thinks of me as the guy who nearly cost Rose her baby," he said, sounding defeated. "Even people who didn't go to St. Vlad's!"
"Then give them a reason to think about you differently. And if anyone asks you about what happened with Rose, own it. Tell them you did it, you know you were an idiot, you're grateful there was no lasting damage, and you'd like the chance to prove it was a moment of stupidity and not typical of you as a person."
"Do you really think it's possible to move on from something like that?" There was hope in his voice and face.
"Son, a very senior Guardian I know once stole one of the Queen's cars while he was drunk and drove it into the fountain outside the Palace during a royal banquet. If he could get past that, I'm sure there's hope for you too" I told him, slinging my duffel into the back of the SUV. "I probably won't need chains, but put them in the trunk anyway. Better safe than sorry."
"Yes, Sir. And thank you, Sir."
My hand was still tapping. The plane was due any minute now. I was fiddling with the radio. I didn't know what to put on. I usually listened to an easy rock station, but it was probably a little old for Celeste. But I didn't know any of the modern stuff, and after ironing the cargos, I certainly didn't want to look like I was trying too hard again. I was about to turn the radio off altogether when I came across a station whose jingle claimed they played the best of the 80s, 90s through to today. That sounded generic enough.
I kept checking my watch. They were five minutes late when I saw the plane lining up with the runway and landing before taxying over towards the small terminal. Little more than a single roomed building filled with chairs, its sole purpose was to record arrivals and departures from Court. I switched off the engine and walked into the terminal in time to see a bunch of kids depart the plane, running across the snowy gravel towards their excited families. Next were a handful of Guardians, looking relaxed in anticipation of a few days R and R away from the Academy. Finally, Celeste stepped from the plane.
Clad in a fur-trimmed waist length leather jacket, tight jeans, and a soft pink tight fluffy sweater, she was pulling a matching pink beanie over her hair and laughing. I was so busy staring at her I barely noticed Alberta following her down the stairs. They were both shouldering duffel bags, so shaking myself out of my daydream, I stepped out into the weather to greet them, offering to take their bags.
"I can carry my own bag you know," Alberta grumbled.
"Oh shut it, Petrov," I laughed. "We're all off-duty – let a man be a gent and carry your bag, alright?" I said, smiling and reaching for Celeste's, too. I showed the ladies to the car.
"You take the front, Celeste," Alberta said, "I want to stretch this leg out in the back."
"War wound?" I asked, noticing Alberta limping slightly.
"Hardly," she grumbled. "I was taken down by a wet linoleum floor outside my office! I'll be ok – my pride is more damaged than my knee!"
"Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," I laughed. "Celeste? Did you have a comfortable flight?"
"Did I ever," she laughed. "I'd barely sat down when they started serving Alberta and me vodka cocktails, courtesy of Rose. She told the flight crew we were VIPs, and we were to be spoiled. Even the food was excellent!"
"It was fun," Alberta laughed. "Everyone was in good spirits. A lot of those kids don't usually get to come home for Christmas. It's too short a holiday, so it's not worth the expense. So how far is it to the property?"
"Twenty minutes from the gates. Who've you put in charge while you're away?" I asked her curiously.
"Townsend and Alto," she said. "One week each. They were the only two keen," she admitted. "You know, I think this is the longest holiday I've ever taken from the Academy. I took a month and a half a couple of years back, but that was to go to St. Basil's for a conference and then to cover for Demyen while he was on leave." She gave a sigh. "I can't wait to see Ivan… I bet he's huge now!"
"Alberta's a very fond surrogate Grandma," Celeste explained. "She demands new photos from Rose every week and updates her screensaver with pictures of Ivan. All the Guardians know not even to attempt asking for a favor before admiring the baby pics."
"I'm not that bad," Alberta grumbled from the back seat.
"She is," Celeste mouthed, hiding her mouth from Alberta with her hand, giving me a smile and a jovial wink.
"I hope Rose has somewhere ready for us to sleep," Alberta groaned. "I've been so busy the last week; I want to cuddle my little man, have a cup of tea then sleep!"
"What about you – are you tired, Celeste?" I asked, trying not to sound in any way suggestive. If she wasn't too tired, it might give us a good time to chat a little.
"No more than usual," she said with a smile.
I smiled to myself. Now all I needed was a little luck to get a few minutes alone with her. The airstrip was on the same side of Court as the gate I needed to get to the property, so we were there before we knew it.
"Wow – this is certainly something," Celeste said, eyes wide as I pulled into the driveway. We were stopped by two Guardians who had been shoveling the driveway.
Checking our credentials, we were soon given admittance.
"Proceed down the driveway to the right," one intoned. "Park beside the van. You'll be met there."
I drove slowly, giving Celeste and Alberta a chance to admire Rose and Dimitri's domain. Despite several days of snow, the driveway and paths were completely clear and sanded. Not that I expected any less of Belikov. He ran a tight ship. Coming around a small bend, the cottage and workshop were revealed. Roofs covered in snow, chimneys puffing smoke it looked like a scene from the front of a Christmas card! And there on the porch were Rose and Dimitri.
"Come inside, Rose has the kettle on," Belikov said, lifting the tail of the SUV almost before I'd pulled up, shouldering one duffel and lifting the two others, one in each hand.
"Where's my little man?" Alberta squealed, giving Rose a huge cuddle before relinquishing her so Celeste could do the same.
"He's upstairs. I think he must know you're coming because he's been fighting his sleep all day. He's due up any moment," Rose explained. "Now get inside so I can show you the house my man built!"
For the next ten minutes, Rose showed us around her home. I had to hand it to Belikov; he'd done a hell of a job. The place was magnificent.
"Rose, your home is beautiful," Alberta complimented.
"It's all thanks to Dimitri," she said, wrapping her arms around Belikov's waist. "I'm a very lucky girl."
"I'm the lucky one, milaya," he said, brushing his lips against hers. I internally sighed. It was impossible to see those two and not want for just a little bit of something like that for yourself.
After admiring their bedroom, Rose showed Alberta to the guest room, and then a cry alerted them the baby was awake.
"Want to check out the barbecue?" Belikov laughed as Rose opened the door to the nursery and the ladies disappeared inside.
"Do I get a choice?" I chuckled, following him downstairs and out a door off the living room. Admiring the setup for ten minutes, we returned inside to find Rose pouring tea and serving biscuits while Alberta and Celeste fussed over Ivan.
I sat beside Dimitri, perpendicular to where Celeste and Rose were sitting, so I could observe her while speaking with Dimitri. Again it looked as though she might be giving me an occasional look, but it was hard to tell. When Alberta failed to cover a stifled yawn, Rose declared it was time everyone retired to their rooms.
"Comrade? I'll show Art and Celeste to their rooms. Can you get Alberta settled and then feed Ivan? I've got a bottle of expressed milk in the fridge – just nuke it for 15 seconds and then swirl it to make sure there are no hot spots."
Walking back to the entryway where Belikov had left our bags I grabbed both and followed Rose outside. She walked to the workshop next door and up an outside set of stairs.
"Dimitri has the Guardians clearing and sanding these twice a day, but be careful," Rose warned, showing us into a flat above the workshop. "I hope you don't mind being in here? I know you're changing to human time, and I thought it would be quieter than the Guardian Quarters. There are a couple of bedrooms – I'll leave you to fight it out who gets which," she laughed.
"There's a platter of fruits, meats, nuts, and cheeses over there. Just have whatever you feel like. The key to the cottage is on the tray, too – so let yourself in as you need. Finally, it gets really cold in here if you don't keep the wood burner running, but Dimitri's got lots of seasoned logs ready. I've also put a heater on in the main bedroom. I'll see you when you surface tomorrow," she said, giving Celeste a quick kiss on the cheek and me a friendly nod before letting herself out of the unit.
I couldn't believe my luck. Time alone with Celeste! I dumped our bags near the entryway, and we each shed our cold, wet combat boots by the door. We could figure out rooms in a minute.
"This is better than any Guardian Quarters I've stayed in," I laughed a little nervously looking around.
"Me too," Celeste said, clearly impressed. "Fancy something to eat?" she asked bringing the laden tray from the kitchenette and placing it on the coffee table. As well as nuts, fruits and cheeses there was a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "And perhaps a glass of wine?"
"Only if you'll join me," I said dropping down on one end of the sofa, taking the bottle and bottle opener, waiting for her response.
"We've waited quite a while for that quiet drink together," Celeste said with a smile, seating herself at the other end of the sofa. "Let's do it now before we're interrupted again!"
I poured us each a glass, leaning forward to toast.
"To new friendships," I said, smiling at her. We clinked glasses, leaning back and savoring the wine. She sat at the other end of the sofa, her feet resting on the leather between us. We were silent, enjoying the quiet. I let my eyes caress her bare feet. Smooth and well kept, the painted toenails were an unexpected nod to her femininity. I idly wondered whether she employed such feminine ministrations on other parts of her anatomy.
"Are you sleepy?" I asked, more as a way to break the silence.
"Not really, but I might go freshen up," she said giving me a look that seemed to mean something. I just wished I were sure. I wanted to pull her onto my lap and kiss her. To tell her I found her fascinating.
"Let me get your bag," I volunteered, picking up her duffel. I went to one room and opened the door and then the other. The difference was chalk and cheese. In one room was a single bedstead laden with handmade quilts. The door having been closed it was arctic in there, as little of the warmth of the main room had seeped in. The second room had an enormous king-sized bed. The heater Rose had mentioned was switched on, and while the room wasn't hot, it would be warm enough beneath the many handmade quilts. I put Celeste's bag down on the bed.
"I'll just leave you to it," I said solicitously, going back out into the main room to get my bag and put it in the second bedroom.
"Art! You can't sleep in there! It's freezing," she gasped, looking at the spartan accommodations of the second bedroom.
"I'll be fine," I said. "It's not even close to the coldest place I've had to sleep," I told her honestly.
"Still – you'll be shivering all night," she objected.
"I'll take the sofa, then. It's enormous and comfortable," I countered.
"Don't be silly. I'll take the sofa, you take the main bedroom," she offered.
"Chance would be a fine thing!" I growled, "There's no way I'll let a beautiful woman sleep on a sofa while I float around in a king-sized bed! I'll take the couch!"
"Well, there is another solution. It's only 2 pm, and it's already cold. It's going to be a lot colder by the time night falls, and it's forecast to snow tonight. We're both adults, and like you said, the bed is huge. Why don't we share it? We could help keep each other warm…"
Ok. That was a pretty clear invitation. Even I didn't think there was much room for misinterpreting the meaning behind her words – and her slightly nervous expression further supported my suspicions. I cautiously took a step toward her.
"Would you like me to keep you warm, Celeste?" I asked, my voice low and husky; my eyes dropping from hers to where her lips were parted breathlessly.
"Art – I've been thinking about you keeping me warm since this time last year," she moaned, stepping forward and closing the distance between us before wrapping her arms around my neck and bringing her lips to mine.
Finally! My body melted into his as our lips met. I felt his strong hands grip me around my waist, as my fingers stroked his promise mark and many molnija on the back of his neck. Now he had his green light, gone was any uncertainty or hesitation. Art Schoenberg was known as a decisive man of action and power, and he wasted no time showing me what that meant when it came to being with a woman.
His lips were firm but demanding against mine, his little guttural growls thrilling me with their sybaritic promise. Pulling my body tighter against his own, his hands started to wander; proprietarily exploring my curves. I moaned into his mouth, ceding to his unspoken demands. His hands back at my waist Art lifted me effortlessly onto the bed, placing me in the middle of the soft layers of quilts.
"You're exquisite, Celeste," Art complimented, looking at me covetously. "I want to worship every part of you."
His eyes held mine captive; I couldn't escape his commanding gaze. Sitting amidst my quilted cocoon, I slowly removed my jacket and knitted sweater, unveiling one of Victoria's most alluring secrets. A lace push-up bra in Candy Apple Red. If my kisses hadn't already verified my acquiescence, this lingerie did.
Art's gaze dropped to my bosom, his eyes unapologetically taking their time caressing my breasts. Apparently deciding my presentation warranted a rejoinder, Art pulled his fine knit sweater from his body, revealing his broad chest. I couldn't help the moan that escaped me as I looked at his torso. He had the tight, lean musculature that marked him as a man long used to physical exertion. Age had found no purchase here. Art was a virile man, and his scorching stare was attestation to his erotic intentions.
I kneeled on the bed, approaching where he stood at its edge. Leaning forward, I lowered my lips to the patch of hair on his chest, kissing it reverently before running the tip of my nose through it. Meanwhile, my hands were occupied finding the button at the waistband of his cargos. Releasing it with a pop, my hand trailed downwards, lightly skimming over the hardness contained within his briefs. He grabbed my hand gently but firmly at the wrist. Waiting for me to bring my eyes to his, he softly shook his head, placing my hand flat against his hardness before putting his hand on top of mine; pushing his clothed erection against my palm. I groaned jubilantly, elated to find that part, like every other Art had displayed so far, promising satisfaction.
"Take your jeans off," Art ordered. His tone brooked no refusal, yet it wasn't an imperious demand. It was an instruction from a man used to being obeyed without question in every aspect of his life. My eyes fixed on his I unbuttoned my fly, shimmying my jeans down over my hips and to my knees before I sat back on the bed. I was about to continue peeling them from my person when he grasped them near my ankles, wresting them from me in one fell swoop. I saw him take in my sheer, lacy thong with pleasure.
"I like you in lace," he murmured approvingly, running one hand up my shin and to my knee. I watched transfixed as he ran his deft fingers back down to my toes before removing his hand from me, using it to help pull down his cargos, stepping out of them. He was wearing black y-front fitted men's trunks. Stopping at the top of his thighs, once I was able to drag my eyes away from the large bulge they concealed, I noticed how nicely they showcased his thick, powerful legs.
Both now clad only in underwear, Art climbed next to me on the bed; lying beside me as his eyes raked up and down my body. He must have liked what he saw, because he grasped my waist, pushing me onto my back. Thrusting his knee hard against my barely covered core, he rested most of his weight on his hands as he leaned down and kissed me. It was the freaking hottest pushup ever. He held himself there seemingly effortlessly; a shameless, yet possibly unconscious display of his control.
Whimpering with need, I pulled him on top of me, loving when he rested more of his weight against me, his thick shaft pressing into my leg. I rocked beneath him, wrapping my arms around him firmly.
He laughed softly.
"Are you always so impatient?" he teased.
"Art, I've been waiting a year. If I have to wait much longer, I'm going to self-combust!" I groaned.
His rich, warm chuckle brought a smile to my lips.
Pulling himself off me and sitting back on his heels, he held out his hand. Putting mine within his, he pulled me into a sitting position. He kissed me with increasing fervor, his hands busy with the clasp of my bra. Moments later I felt him pulling the straps down my arms.
He pushed me back firmly, causing a gasp to escape my lips as his lips attacked my breasts, taking turns in kissing and nipping at each. I had my hands in his hair. It wasn't long enough to snake my fingers through, so I tugged on it roughly as I rocked my hips beneath him. Making his way up my neck to my lips again, he was kissing me hard.
And then his lips were gone, and so was his weight. Sitting up again, he was taking off my panties, carefully pulling them over each leg. That's something else I liked. Those delicate pieces of lace were expensive. I liked that he didn't shred them off me. He ran his hands up my legs, bending them at the knees and propping them open. He was kissing up my inner thigh before I realized what he was going to do.
I propped myself up on my elbows smiling at him. I loved being licked, but it wasn't something I'd got to enjoy all that often. Casual lovers tended not to indulge a female partner in that way, and my first boyfriend had shown scant regard for prolonging the sexual experience or anything else relating to my pleasure. But so far Art appeared to be a very different kettle of fish. Single-minded, driven and focused, I had a suspicion that right now, Guardian Schoenberg's solitary goal was my unbridled gratification.
His growl of arousal as he ran his tongue the length of my slit was thrilling, as was the take-no-prisoners way he took to the task at hand. Within minutes I'd collapsed back against the bedding, moaning uncontrollably as Art used his mouth and fingers to bring me right to the precipice of delight. Curling his fingers inside me, he was stroking my inner wall rhythmically as his digits plunged in and out of my cleft. Getting faster as I got louder, his tongue was lapping furiously at my sensitive nub. Finally, I could take no more – coming hard around his fingers, I was biting on my thumb to try and silence my triumphant howling, but he reached up and pulled my hand from my mouth. Licking my quivering nub gently, he helped prolong my orgasm before using my legs to help push himself up into a sitting position.
"Never silence yourself, Celeste. Hearing a woman's enjoyment is very satisfying for a man."
I smiled at him completely in awe. A man turned on by turning on a woman? Yeah – I could cope with that!
The bulge at Art's crotch was painfully apparent, and I thought I might return the oral attention. I was sitting up to reach forward and stroke him, but he pushed me back against the mattress, wordlessly urging me to stay where I was. I licked my lips, watching in anticipation as he lowered his trunks to reveal his manhood. I smiled – boasting a slightly above average length, what really set Art apart was his girth. Not thick enough to frighten but certainly enough to excite. Oh God – please let him know how to use that bad boy, I silently prayed, already anticipating how good having him within me was going to feel.
An hour later and four orgasms in, I was almost incoherent. I had never had sex like this. Every time I came, I thought he must be about to let go as well, but he'd change positions and start to build me up to another climax. Starting out on top between my legs, he'd slid inch after delicious inch into me until I wrapped my legs around behind his back. Then he'd moved me into doggy style to take me from behind. After that, he took me on my back again, this time him standing at the edge of the bed using one hand to anchor me as his other hand stimulated my breasts and clit.
That he was sexually dominating was undeniable. I was accustomed to a fumbled 'is this ok?' or 'do you like this?' before a man would settle in and race towards his finish. But while Art hadn't once asked me how I wanted it, somehow by passing control to him I felt more in charge than ever. I had no doubt if I told Art I didn't enjoy something or suggested something different, he'd be all ears. But he was obviously a lot more experienced than I, so I was happy to defer to his expertise.
Sitting me in his lap as he kneeled on the bed, still buried within me, he was kissing me testingly.
"Do you think you have one more for me, little star? Can you cum again?"
I giggled.
"I'm not sure… I can try."
"Cum with me Celeste. Please?" he moaned as he rocked himself up into me, his thumb stroking my almost oversensitized nub.
I grasped his shoulders, steadying myself so I could flex into his thrusts. It was slower than before, yet somehow just as satisfying. I honestly didn't think I was going to be able to do it, but after all his solicitous attentions, I'd do my very best to achieve the only thing he'd asked for himself. So closing my eyes, I concentrated on the feelings he was giving me. I leaned back as he brought his lips back to my breasts, alternating between my soft, womanly globes. And as he nipped at one I came apart a final time.
"Oh God, Art!" I shouted as I clenched around his shaft.
His grunts of release were my only response as his thick hard cock finally found release within me. His eyes closed, his head thrown back, he seemed to cum for ages; I could feel the spasms wrack his body as he clasped me hard against him. I wrapped my sweaty arms around him, stroking his beautiful, giving body. Coming back to me, he pulled his cock out of my channel, guiding me back onto the bed his arms still around me.
He smiled, taking in my satiated expression.
"Celeste, you are magnificent," he said admiringly.
"Says the man who just made me cum five times…" I laughed, my fingers idly tracing little patterns in his chest hair. "Art I've never had a man make love to me like that!"
"In a good way or a bad way?" he asked cautiously.
"Oh hell - in a good way!" I laughed, still a little giddy from back to back orgasms. "You've given me more pleasure in the last hour or two than I think I've had in the last ten years combined."
"I think I could say the same thing. You're a breathtaking woman, Celeste. A man would be an idiot not to want to bring you pleasure in any way he could."
I didn't know how to respond to that. I guess we were now in that awkward post-sex 'what the hell do we do now' moment. In a casual hook up, this would be the stage where one of us would go to use the bathroom, the other taking the opportunity to get dressed and claim the need to sleep in their own bed due to an upcoming shift. But while I wanted to use the shower, I didn't want this little bubble of togetherness to end. So I said nothing, just running my hands soothingly over his body.
"Celeste?" he said a little hesitantly.
Here it comes. 'Thanks, that was good, but you understand why it can only be a once off,' or maybe 'That was a mistake, let's pretend it never happened.'
"I don't usually have sex for the first time with a woman in these sort of circumstances, so if there's an etiquette for this kind of thing, forgive me, but I don't know what it is. I'm a straightforward man, so I'm going to be blunt about this. I like you. I enjoy our conversations; I think you're a beautiful, sexy, vibrant, intelligent woman and I savor spending time with you. If you think you might start to feel the same way about me and be interested in something more than just sex, I'd like to take these next few days to explore where this might go. I don't want to pressure you, and just say the word, and I shan't mention this again. Just let me know," he said, starting to pull away from me.
I shushed him, putting my finger up to his lips while pulling him back towards me with my other arm.
"Art, I already feel the same way. I want to spend time with you and see what happens," I told him shyly.
Art's smile was glorious. "Then shower with me, little star? I know it's greedy, but I like touching your body…"
"I think a shower together might be wise. I'm not sure I'll be able to stand up without help," I told him, only partially in jest.
I woke to find Celeste wrapped around me. We'd been asleep fifteen hours, but we'd needed it. Changing to human time was always tricky. After our shower together last night she'd climbed into bed naked, pulling me in beside her. I could probably count the number of times I'd slept naked on the one hand, but with her beside me, it seemed natural to have nothing between us. She'd been right – it had snowed overnight, and the room was decidedly chilly this morning. Careful not to wake her, I slipped out of bed, using the bathroom and then restocking the wood-burning stove in the living room. I slipped back into bed, smiling as Celeste rolled her warm body against me. Her eyes opened with a start.
"Art! You're freezing!" she admonished lazily, her hair sleep-tousled. She looked sexy as hell.
"Sorry. I got up to use the bathroom and restock the wood stove," I explained. "If you give it twenty minutes it will be warmer."
"I can't wait, I'm busting!" she laughed, rolling out of bed and streaking to the bathroom. Racing back into the bedroom, she dove back under the covers.
"I thought the whole idea of you sleeping here was so you could keep me warm?" she said.
"Yes?" I replied, pretending I had no idea of what she was hinting at.
"Well… Get on with it!" she giggled, pulling herself close to me and kissing my neck.
"Why didn't you drop off the breakfast tray, Comrade?" Rose asked as I returned to the kitchen still carrying the full tray. "Did you clear the stairs of snow? Were they still asleep?"
"Yes I did," I said. "And no they weren't."
"Then why didn't you drop off the tray? Are they coming over here for breakfast instead?"
"I'm not sure. I didn't ask," I said, putting the tray back on the counter and walking to pour myself another coffee in consternation.
"Honestly Comrade. What's up with you?"
"Well I put the tray down on the doorstep and opened the door to the unit, but our old bedroom door wasn't closed…"
"And? That doesn't matter – you know you can't see into that room from the front door. You could still have slipped it in…"
I nearly choked at Rose's unconscious choice of words.
"I didn't think it was a good idea."
"Why not?" Rose demanded.
"Because the bed was creaking, and Celeste was moaning 'Oh Art, you make me feel so good!' that's why!" I snapped. "I didn't think they'd appreciate the interruption or knowing anyone had overheard."
"No probably not," Rose giggled, wrapping her arms around me, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Did you know about this, milaya?" I asked suspiciously.
"Did I know Celeste and Art were having sex this morning? No, of course not! I wouldn't have sent you over there with a tray if I thought you'd catch them doing it!"
I looked at my girlfriend carefully.
"But you knew it was a possibility?"
"Honestly I thought it would take them a few more days, but yes – I suspected they liked each other."
I rolled my eyes in exasperation.
"You're incorrigible!" I accused.
"I am, but that's why you love me," she laughed, lifting herself up onto the countertop and wrapping her legs and arms around me as she kissed me liberally.
And, of course, she was right.