Chapter 8

"Sheldon, I think we should decide on the parameters," Amy said.

"Parameters? What do you mean? I thought the parameters are self-explanatory."

"For example, we need to decide who will be on top."

"I assumed I would be on top."

"Why do you just assume that? Because you're a man?"

Sheldon answered, "No. But it was my idea to try this tonight, so I think I get to set the parameters. And, as a man, I have superior upper body strength, thus allowing me to hold myself up high enough I won't crush you with my weight."

"But if I'm top, my lower center of gravity will prevent me from crushing your chest, anyway. Instead, my pelvic region will be close to yours, just as it is when I've sat on your lap," Amy protested.

"Uh . . . Uh . . ." Sheldon's mouth felt very dry. Why did she have to bring that up? He remembered with perfect clarity the way her weight had felt on his lap, her legs spread, her skirt creeping ever upwards, the way her thigh had felt beneath his palm . . . He shifted uncomfortably on the sofa next to her. "Uh . . . well . . ."

"Proposal: You can be on top, but I am allowed to vocalize as I see fit."

"Vocalize?"

"Yes. I cannot predict exactly what I may be motivated to vocalize in the moment, but I think it may be something like 'Oh, Sheldon, yes, just like that.'"

"Amy, don't be . . ." the word vulgar fell away. Because, even though the impersonal way Amy had just said it did make it sound vulgar, suddenly, without warning, he imagined her moaning those very words, slow and soft, somewhere close to his ear, her hot breath on his cheek . . . Oh, Sheldon, yes . . . "Fine."

"What about -"

Sheldon shot up off the sofa. "Did you hear that?"

He tiptoed over to the door, glancing down to make sure the lock was in the correct position, and pressed his ear to the door. He waved his hand behind him to ensure Amy's silence, but, of course, she was absolutely noiseless. A few seconds and Sheldon was certain he had heard footsteps on the stairs.

Rotating quickly back to look at Amy, he whisper yelled, "Assume the position!"

Practically diving onto the sofa, he landed on top of her.

"Mmmmph," she groaned.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"I told you I should have been on top," Amy whispered back.

He silenced her with a kiss, a hard, fast kiss. He saw her eyebrows raise just before she returned the action. He was not relaxed at all. Somehow he had landed not with his legs parallel to hers, as he had planned; instead, she was . . . spread eagle beneath him. There was no denying where their pelvic regions were. And, as he has so often wondered, is she actually hotter there? It was that thought that did it, and he sunk further down into her, pressing against her, his tongue breaking the barrier of her lips. The knock on the door was ignored.

Whispering outside the door. More kissing. Laughter outside the door. More kissing.

The door swung open behind him, and he battled his sympathetic nervous system to hold his place, gripping Amy shoulders harder, letting himself be seen like this. He felt Amy tense beneath him, too, and somehow that make it easier.

"Holy crap on a cracker!" "Jesus, guys!" "Ackkkk!" "Now I'm going to have nightmares!" "Okay, Sheldon, you've made your point. Lock the door, why don't you!"

The door slammed shut behind them. Sheldon's shoulders relaxed, and he lifted his face up. Amy was smiling up at him.

"I would say that was successful," she said.

"Yes," he said softly, too busy looking at her face. It occurred to him that in all the times they had made out, he had never looked down at her like this. Yet again, he was struck by the realization of how beautiful Amy was. How wonderful and . . . natural it was to see her like this, beneath him, her hair fanned out behind her.

"Amy?"

"Yes?"

"Should we get up now that our experiment appears to be complete?"

"Mmmmm, we could stay here." She smiled again, more slyly. "It happened so quickly I didn't get to vocalize."

He heard Oh, Sheldon, yes . . . whispering in his head again, and he leaned down to kiss Amy, more gently this time. She melted beneath him and he felt like he was floating atop a river of pleasure and she feels so good here under me and then Amy shifted slightly and his body was on fire and he moved his hand and she is so soft and just the perfect size and -

Sheldon pulled back abruptly and looked down at his hand. His hand that was, without any doubt, cupping Amy's breast. He snatched it away like her chest was an oven.

"Sheldon, it's okay," Amy gently whispered.

He scrambled upright and sat back on his knees, his hand reaching up clutch his chest. Amy sat up, too, worry etched on her face. "Sheldon? Are you okay? It's perfectly fine that you touched me there. You can . . . touch me anywhere you want."

He nodded briskly. "I just . . . it's just that . . ."

You can touch me anywhere you want. How could he tell her what he wanted? He did want to touch her there. Soon. Very, very soon. He wanted to touch her there without her cardigan and her blouse. He wanted . . . Oh, Sheldon, yes . . . he wanted . . .

"Amy?" he took his hand from his chest and brushed it along the edge of her face, settling it on her neck. "What are you doing next weekend? Say, Saturday night?"

Amy stepped out of the shower, reaching for the blue towel. Drying herself off, she found herself humming Sweet Caroline and she smiled. Looking in the mirror, steamed up on the edges from the heat of the shower, she grinned. Today is going to be a great day. Today is the beginning of the rest of my life.

She debated for a moment about whether to put on actual clothes or to put on a clean nightgown. Deciding that she had no plans for the morning, she elected the comfort and warmth of her nightgown and robe. She slipped her chilly feet into her slippers before opening the bathroom door.

Taking a few steps toward the kitchen, she stopped and smiled again to see Sheldon standing there, in his own robe, his hair in disarray, sliding pieces of bread onto plates.

"Smells delicious," she said.

He looked up and smiled. No, beamed. "French toast."

"But it's not French toast day."

If possible, his smile widened further. "You remembered. No, it's not French toast day. But it's a special occasion. I bought you both strawberries and blueberries. I wasn't sure which you'd prefer."

If possible, her smile widened further as she walked close to him, reaching for his shoulder. He turned and bent down to kiss her softly. "How do you feel this morning?"

"I feel fabulous," she answered.

"Me, too." He kissed her again. "Let's eat while it's hot. And your tea is ready."

Amy nodded and they went to the other side of the island to sit next to each other. Amy was just about to put a bite in her mouth, when the sound of the door behind her startled her.

"Hey, Sheldon, do you have any milk - Oh my God!"

Amy and Sheldon swiveled on their stools to look at Penny standing the doorway in her pajamas. Then she preceded to squeal, her almost constant yelp getting progressively louder. "OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGodohmyGod, Leonnnnnard!"

The door across the hall opened and Leonard ran over. "Penny, what - Ohhhhhh."

Amy looked at Sheldon. "Did you forget to lock the door last night?"

"No, I locked it. I just unlocked it first thing this morning."

"Because that's what you always do?"

"No," he shrugged. "Just as with our kissing experiment, I thought if they wanted to see what we're up to over here so badly, we would show them. I also determined it was the most expedient way for news of our foray into coitus to reach our entire social circle without having to discuss explicit details with them. I estimate all of them will be aware of this new development within the half hour."

Amy turned back to their friends. Penny now appeared to be having some sort of fit as she repeatedly slapped Leonard's arm, her face formed in a silent scream. Leonard's eyebrows looked so heavy and low Amy was afraid they just might fall off his face.

"Sheldon, I like your style," Amy said.

"Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet," he replied.

They smiled at each other before turning back to their breakfasts.

THE END

AN: What?! It's a T-rated story, folks. And a comedy. I refuse to write Shamy's first time as a comedy.

But, yes, there's a missing chapter. To be posted later this week in the M-rated section . . .

And thank you for all your reviews and encouragement.