iWant My Mommy!
Synopsis: Carly needs a hug...
Pairing: Carly/Sam
Disclaimer: I don't own iCarly (yet), but my birthday is in April (shop early...avoid the rush)!
Rated: "M"
Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama, Humor, Hurt, Comfort
Feedback: The more you write...the more I write!
Current Muse: Where Are You Going (Dave Matthews Band)
I Hate Alarm Clocks!
And, at six a.m. I was, with eyes closed, swinging and swatting at mine...
...finally, succeeding in shutting it up on the fourteenth attempt.
Or maybe it was the fifteenth.
I just don't remember.
Anyway, I've never been what you would call a 'morning person'; and for a moment, I considered turning over and lapsing back into unconsciousness...
...but I couldn't.
I didn't want to waste such a potentially beautiful day.
Besides, it had been two weeks since she'd last heard from me...
...and that was way too long.
So, instead, I forced my eyes open, rolled out of bed, and staggered over to my immaculately tidy desk.
Reaching into the top drawer, I pulled out a new box of writing paper, and the gold Cross pen that Spencer had given me for Christmas.
I didn't bother pausing to think...
...I knew exactly what I was going to say.
March 22nd
Dear Mom:
I know it's been almost two weeks since my last letter, and I'm sorry. But just because I haven't written doesn't mean that I don't think of you often.
Because I do.
I hope you like this new stationery. The Florentine border reminds me of your favorite red and blue scarf...the one you used to wear when you'd borrow one of Dad's oxford shirts...until Skippy somehow managed to jump up onto your dresser and chew it to shreds.
I remember how disappointed you were when you couldn't replace it.
Report cards came out yesterday, and aside from a B- in chemistry (still my worst subject,) I got all 'A's' again. Sorry about the B-...I promise you that I'm trying my hardest.
But actually, my report card isn't the main reason I'm writing...and I realize that I should have sent this letter long before now.
There's something I need to tell you...and I wish you were here with me...so we could talk about it face to face...
...because this is really, really important.
It's something that I could never discuss with Dad, Grand-dad...or even Spencer.
But I know that you'll understand.
Anyway, what I want to tell you is...
...I've mentioned Sam in so many of my letters, that by now you must feel you know her really well...almost as well as I do.
And I'm sure that you realize, by now...from the way I go on and on when I write about her...that she's a person who is incredibly special to me.
Well, she is.
But lately, my feelings for her have been...
...different.
I've been feeling something for her...
...that's more than just friendship.
I care about her very deeply.
Well, actually it's even more than that...much more...and I'm so scared to tell you...not only because I've never told this to anyone...
...but also because I've only very recently admitted it to myself.
I'm in love with her.
Mom, I'm pretty sure I'm gay.
I hope you're not disappointed in me about this, but I just don't know if you are. You and Dad don't seem to have any gay friends, and you've never mentioned the subject around me...but please, please don't be mad!
I know that when you were growing up, being gay wasn't a commonly-accepted thing...and I'm aware that it still isn't.
During the past two or three years, I've dated a fair number of boys...including some that I really liked...but when I tried to make out with them, it always felt very...wrong.
I didn't enjoy it. Not at all.
I tried to! I swear I did! But I just don't feel it with boys. I'm really sorry.
I do feel it when I'm with Sam.
I've never told her how I feel about her, which means that we've never actually kissed or anything...and she's never said anything about having those kinds of feelings for me...the subject has just never come up...but, because of the endless things she does for me...and how she constantly looks out for me...and because of the way she takes care of me when I'm upset...and for a hundred other reasons...I sometimes think that maybe she does feel the same way about me...
...but I'm too scared to ask...
...because, if she doesn't, and if she's repulsed at the way I feel, I don't want to lose her.
Nothing could be more horrible than that.
I don't know what to do.
Mom, I'm so confused right now. I wish you were here to give me advice, because I could really use some.
I'm not sure what to say to her...or when to say it...or even if I'm ever going to say anything at all.
I hope she says or does something soon that gives me a clue to how she feels...so I'll have some idea of what to do.
I realize you may be thinking that seventeen is kind of young for me to know something like this about myself...
...but I know myself pretty well.
And, even though it's so hard to admit...both to you and to myself...I've struggled with this for a very long time...
...and I'm sure it's who I am.
Please try to understand that the last thing I want to do is to hurt you, or for you to be upset with me...but I have to be completely honest with you...
...and I pray that you can still accept me...and still love me...no matter what you think of this.
Anyway, she's probably coming over later today. I can't wait. When we're together, I feel like I couldn't possibly ask for anything else...
...because all the happiness I've ever dreamed of is right in front of me.
Please give my love to Grandmom, and tell her that I've been trying hard to master her Spice Cake recipe. It usually turns out pretty well, but it's still nowhere near as good as hers.
But then again, I'm not one to give up easily...as I'm sure you know.
All my love,
Carly
I read it through twice...
...and then I took a deep breath.
There was no turning back now.
Getting up from my desk, I pulled a pair of sweat pants over my bare legs, and then put on my sneakers, which I didn't bother to tie, and then a jacket.
I folded the two sheets of paper and put them into the matching envelope, which I sealed with countless kisses. Then I addressed it, and put it into the inside pocket of my jacket...
...over my heart.
And, after making a pit stop to pee...
...I silently headed downstairs.
As I sneaked through the living room, I noticed that Spencer's bedroom door was closed; but, even if it had been open, I was being so quiet that he wouldn't have woken up anyway.
I left the apartment, locking the door behind me...
...noticing as I did, that the eighth floor hallway was deserted...
...which it usually is at seven in the morning...
...so no one joined me in the elevator...
...which was exactly what I wanted.
And, as I exited on the top floor of my building...
...it was a relief to see that all was quiet up here as well.
Perfect.
I made my way down the hall, past numerous apartments full of still-blissfully-asleep tenants, to the door at the far end...
...and, walking through it...
...I found myself in a large, cluttered storage/utility room.
It was an area I knew well...
...so I easily and expertly stepped over and around all kinds of junk, as I made my way to its far side...
...over to the door marked 'Roof'.
The key was where it always was...under the abandoned, half-rusted air conditioner which sat on the floor nearby.
After unlocking the door and replacing the key...
...I stepped outside...
...and immediately tripped over a huge pile of tangled electrical cables.
Flailing wildly, I managed to grab the edge of the still-open door with both hands and to regain my balance. I'd heard that new lighting was going to be installed on the roof...and apparently the project was now underway.
After kicking my feet clear of the wiring, I closed the door behind me, wedging it open a crack with a stray piece of cardboard.
And then, I breathed in as deeply as I could...
...completely filling my lungs with the still-fresh air of early morning.
Straining my ears, and not hearing any voices...
...I walked confidently around to my favorite side of the tower.
The side facing east.
I had arrived just in time.
The sun was coming up...
...soon cresting the top of the Barclay hotel across the street...
...and spilling its rays over the parapet of my own building...
...and across the roof...
...and over me...
...as I leaned back against the wall behind me...
...and looked out across the pink-and-gold, mist-shrouded rooftops of the city.
After I'd had my fill of the view of early morning Seattle, I headed for the low, recessed area under the corner of the roof's left-hand parapet.
It had originally been used for storage, but was now long forgotten...
...which made it a perfect spot for hiding stuff.
My stuff.
With a final glance in all directions, to make sure I was indeed alone, I got down on my knees, crawled forward a bit, lifted the front of the abandoned, faded, forest green canvas tarp...
...and pulled out my portable hibachi...
...and the half-full, waterproof bag of charcoal.
After reaching into my pocket for a box of matches...
...I filled the tray with charcoal...
...and lit it...
...and, four matches later...
...once the coals had ignited properly...
...I carefully set my mom's letter on top of the grate.
And, as the edges of the heavy, ecru-colored envelope began to char and curl...
...I lay down on my back, on the slightly dew-dampened cement, watching as the smoke ascended into heaven...
...and as the sun's steadily-brightening rays spilled across me and warmed my body...
...and I smiled...
...because, even though it was currently still late-March...
...it felt a lot more like mid-May.
A rare, sunny, absolutely perfect Saturday morning.
No one knew that I did this...not Spencer, and not even Sam.
I began talking to my mom, in my bedroom, when I was eight...which was the year I had lost her. Then one day, about four years ago, while in the elevator, I'd overheard two supers talking. So I knew where to find the key.
And I started coming up here often...to be as near to her as I could.
And to send her my letters.
Even though Sam didn't know anything about this...I'd invited her, several times, to join me up here...
...wanting to hang out (and hoping to make out)...
...but she always refused.
Enthusiastically.
Even though I'd never insult her by saying it, I could tell, from her extensive repertoire of increasingly-creative excuses, that she's incredibly terrified of heights.
Yes, my rough and ready, kick-your-ass-in-a-heartbeat Sam is strictly a ground warrior.
As the sun climbed higher and its rays enveloped me completely, I closed my eyes...
...and stretched lazily in all directions...
...loving its caress.
I wish I could stay here all day...
...but the charcoal was burning out...
...and I realized that it was much more important for me to be at home...
...in case Sam called or came over...
...which she frequently did on Saturdays.
Because, even though we'd spent most of yesterday together at school...
...I couldn't wait to see her again.
So, with a sigh, I sat up, stirred the embers carefully to make sure they were completely out...
...and then, I returned everything to its place...
...and headed back downstairs...
...definitely to breakfast...
...and, hopefully, to Sam.
Since I had tentatively planned to take her for an afternoon outing to Meridian Park, I hoped that the sunny weather would continue for the rest of the day.
It didn't.
By noon, the sky was completely overcast...
...and, as it darkened...
...so did my mood...
...as hour after hour dragged by...
...with no word from Sam.
Finally, dejected and disappointed...and completely ignoring the lunch that was sitting in front of me on the kitchen table...I slumped down in my chair.
Spencer looked across at me in concern. "What's wrong, Kiddo? Still too much pepper in the Caesar dressing? I used a lot less than last time."
I shook my head. "No. It's okay."
"Well then...is the chicken too spicy?"
"No, everything's fine," I assured him. "It's just...I'm just not very...I...have some stuff on my mind right now."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Is it anything you'd like to talk about?"
I glanced over at my phone on the kitchen counter...
...and then at the front door...
...before looking back at him. "No...but thanks."
With a nod, he turned back to his food...
...while I spent the next fifteen minutes staring at my phone...
...trying to will it to ring
Finally, with a sympathetic and reassuring smile, Spencer got up from the table; cleared away his empty salad bowl, bread plate, knife, fork, and glass; and took them over to the sink.
And then, he walked up behind my chair...
...put his hands on my shoulders...
...and leaned down. "Don't worry," he said, "I'm sure you'll hear from her sometime this afternoon."
I nodded...
...as, without speaking, he leaned down farther...
...and hugged me...
...and then, thinking it over...
...and realizing that he was probably right...
...and, as a result, feeling much more reassured...
...I attacked my salad.
Spencer walked over to the coat tree near our front door, grabbed a jacket, and shrugged it on. "Socko and I are headed over to the studio...we're doing the fall catalog photo shoot this afternoon...but I'll probably be home by around six-thirty...in time to make dinner."
I nodded.
He left.
After finishing my own lunch, I washed the dishes and tidied the kitchen, and then...
...I started to get impatient again.
I wish she would call.
I didn't even know where she was...or what she had planned for the day.
And not knowing was driving me nuts...
...not because I'm a crazy, obsessive stalker (I'm not), but because Sam is pretty much all I think about anymore.
For the record, I've always been concerned about her when we're not together...
...wondering if she's okay...
...worrying if she's had enough...or anything at all...to eat (her mother is very neglectful)...
...hoping that she's staying out of trouble...
...but lately, I've noticed that, even when she's not directly on my mind, she's usually hanging around the perimeter, just out of sight...
...and showing up unexpectedly and often...
...when I'm awake...
...and in my dreams.
I wish I knew where she is...
...and if she's thinking about me.
I love her.
Can she sense that?
I always find myself wondering what she's thinking, and what she's doing, and what she's feeling.
Does she ever get lonely and miss me...when she's alone in her room? The way that I do in mine...when she's not here?
Does she ever realize, when she's standing or sitting so close to me, how hard it is for me to refrain from throwing myself into her arms and crying as I tell her that she's everything to me? And that I can't imagine life without her?
Does she have those kinds of feelings for me?
Does she love me?
Could she ever love me...
...the way I want her to?
Oh, God...I wish she'd call!
I fell back onto the living room couch and turned on the TV.
Less than five minutes later, I turned it off.
I just wasn't in the mood...
...so instead, I sat...
...staring at the front door...
...trying to call her to me telepathically...
...which was a complete waste of time.
Two o'clock came and went...
...with no word from her.
Finally, I was way too restless to sit anymore.
Getting up off the couch, I began wandering, slowly and aimlessly, through the downstairs; straying from room to room, while trying (and failing) to get her out of my mind...temporarily.
I hope she's okay. Wait, what am I saying? Of course she's okay! Sam is tough, resilient, and resourceful.
But then again, once in a very great while, I get to see her vulnerable side, when she lets her guard down...
...which she does only in front of me. I know it means that she trusts me...
...but could it also mean that...
...she loves me?
I meandered down the hallway and entered Spencer's bedroom.
As usual, it was disorganized...but it was clean.
I drifted around it several times...stopping here and there...picking up random items from his dressers, desk, and tables; looking at them, and then setting them back down.
I remember reading somewhere that every object a person owns and touches retains an imprint of them...a kind of memory.
I wish I had something like that of Sam's...
...but then again, Sam doesn't really have much of anything. I have some of her clothes, in a dresser drawer that's reserved for her...so I guess that's something...but still, I wish I had-
The splattering sound against the window I was standing next to pulled me out of my deep, brooding reverie...
...and I looked outside.
It had started to rain...
...hard...
...which did absolutely nothing to cheer me up.
I wandered back out of Spencer's room...
...and upstairs to my own.
Closing the door behind me, I lit my table lamp, and fell back onto the bed. How could a day that had begun with such promise...
...so beautiful...
...and so perfect...
...and so full of possibilities...
...turn so utterly suckish so quickly?
I turned the question over in my mind several times...
...but ultimately, was forced to give it up.
Despite the lamp's glow, a general aura of gloominess pervaded the room. I kicked off my shoes and, not bothering to get undressed, or to get under the covers of my unmade bed...
...I closed my eyes...
...realizing as I did that it was a complete waste of time.
I knew that there was no way I was going to be able to sleep.
I wish Sam was here with me.
She's spent the night, from time to time, but we'd never kissed...
...or cuddled...
...and it's both frustrating and heartbreaking to have her lying so near to me, and wanting...so desperately...to reach out and hold her...
...but knowing that I don't dare.
What am I going to do?
I shifted restlessly on the mattress, wishing that I had something to occupy myself...
...something to take my mind off her...
...and off my dilemma.
I thought about calling her; but I had already called her five times during the past week, so it was, most definitely, her turn to call me.
I wish she was here...
...so badly.
I wouldn't mind the rain so much if she was here...because even if I couldn't touch her, I could look into her cerulean blue eyes...
...and see her warm smile...
...and look at her lying next to me...
...and watch as her chest slowly rises and falls, with every breath she takes...
...and look at the way her perfect legs carelessly sprawl on the mattress.
She's so beautiful.
I don't understand why so many other people fail to see it when they look at her.
When they look at...
...when they look...
...at...
Suddenly...
...I knew what I wanted to do.
Sitting up, I stared across the room...
...at my dresser...
...and then, I slowly got out of bed and walked over to it...
...and, crouching down...
...I reached under it...
...and, after sweeping my hand back and forth several times...
...I found it.
And I withdrew my hand...
...and pulled out...
...the latest edition of the Victorian Secrets catalog.
It had just arrived in the mail, two days ago, and I had stashed it under here until I'd have a chance to look at it properly.
Alone.
You're probably thinking that it's crazy for me to hide a lingerie catalog like it's porn...and maybe you're right. After all, I'm a seventeen year-old girl, so I could just as easily keep it right on my nightstand, and no one would bat an eye...not Spencer...and not even Sam (who probably wouldn't even give it a second glance or thought, since she hates any and all girly stuff).
But still, I hid it...
...because I'm ashamed of the way I've been looking at their catalogs lately.
And ashamed of the thoughts and feelings I've been having while I do...
...the same thoughts and feelings I have when I look at or think about Sam.
At first, it was only once in a while that I'd think about her in that way...
...but now it's becoming a lot more frequent...
...and a lot more explicit.
I was brought up believing that nice girls didn't think about things like this...
...not in this way.
But I do...
...and it's so bewildering to me...
...and so frightening...
...that it makes me want to cry...
...but I don't.
And, worst of all, there's no one I can talk to about it.
No one.
I hope I can figure it all out someday.
I paused...
...considering tossing the catalog into the wastebasket...
...and trying to think about something else...
...something non-lascivious...
...like a proper young lady should...
...but I didn't.
I couldn't.
So, I walked over to my bedroom door and locked it (yes...paranoid with a capital 'p')...
...and settled back onto the bed, with my back against the headboard.
And then...
...I looked down at the cover...
...at the girl with the extremely wind-swept, brown hair...
...with one arm flung up and across (and obscuring) half of her face...
...wearing a bra that looked like it had been stuffed with two mutant cantaloupes.
Fake boobies.
Yuck.
There's a Victorian Secrets store at the Seattle Arcadia mall, but I don't usually shop there. I did go in there once...last year. I bought a bottle of cologne, and paid with a credit card...
...and that's how I ended up on their mailing list.
This is the third issue they've sent me.
I quickly flipped through the catalog.
I swear that this one should be titled, 'Bad Hair Edition', because most of the girls look like they're standing in the middle of a Nor'easter.
Oh, well.
As an unwelcome twinge of guilt made me flinch sharply...
...I opened to the first page.
The other two catalogs I received from this company featured lingerie first...and outer clothes last...
...but in this one, the two sections were reversed...
...and I looked down at the model on page 3...
...who was wearing a very short, belted khaki trench coat...
...and, apparently, nothing else.
She had a pretty face...
...but not as pretty as Sam's.
I turned the page.
On page 4, I found my gaze returned by a platinum-haired model with a vacant stare...
...and freakishly-large, overly-enhanced lips...
...reminiscent of a pelican's...
...and on the opposite page was a redhead, who looked like she'd been subsisting on heroin sandwiches for the past five years.
I'll bet she'd be a cheap date.
Waiter: 'May I take your order?'
Her: 'I'll have a crouton and a glass of water!'
Both of them were wearing outfits that I wouldn't be caught dead in.
The 'page 4 lady' was wearing an unspeakably-hideous abomination called a 'Caftan'...in colors that remind me of a 'bad LSD trip' scene that I saw in a 'Drug Prevention' film, at my school last year.
The 'page 5 lady' had on a dress that looked like an oil tanker had collided with a Red Cross collection van (random splashes of black...and slashes of red...set against a death-pallor gray background).
No thanks.
As much as I love fashion...
...I'd never pursue a career as a model...
...because of the hideous outfits they often have to wear.
I turned the page.
The next two photos were definitely an improvement.
They both featured the same cute, blonde model.
On page 6, she was wearing a nautically-inspired, cotton crew neck sweater...mostly ivory...with horizontal navy stripes, and a pair of loose-fitting, straight-leg jeans in a faded shade of blue called 'summer sky'.
I could totally picture Sam in that outfit...
...and it would look great on her.
She was standing on a deserted beach, in the glowing, slanting sunshine of late afternoon...
...Sam's favorite time of day.
On page 7, she was kneeling at the water's edge, with the surf swirling around her knees, wearing something called a 'boyfriend shirt', in a dusty, Newport blue-and-cream madras plaid, with the sleeves rolled up; and a pair of oversized and relaxed-fit khaki twill shorts.
Again, I could easily see Sam wearing that...
...and looking fantastic in it.
Actually, the model kind of reminds me of Sam...
...with her blonde, windswept hair, softly-rounded chest, and tanned legs.
The next four pages featured sleepwear...
...and, in the midst of all the sheer, frilly, lacy stuff, one item stood out: A pair of white and aqua, windowpane-plaid cotton pajamas.
They weren't girly at all, but were designed like men's PJ's.
Sam would look really good in those.
They were being modeled by another blonde girl, who was standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows of a city apartment, with a sweeping and stunning view of the skyline in the background; with one hand resting on the window sill, leaning against it, and the other hand in her long blond hair.
The pajama jacket was completely unbuttoned and gapped open nicely in the front, affording a spectacular view of her bare chest...
...from her neck all the way down her lower abdomen...
...including a hint of cleavage from her (thankfully real) breasts.
The matching drawstring pants were sitting very low on her hips...
...about two inches above her vulva.
Wow.
I'll bet Sam's chest and stomach look like that...all taut and smooth and kissable.
The girl had a pretty face...at least the parts of it that I could see through the hair that was flying across it.
(I thought those windows were closed.)
Whatever.
She was gorgeous.
And her eyes reminded me of Sam's
I wish Sam was here right now...
...wearing those pajamas...
...looking at me in that way.
I turned the page.
Usually I'd check out the collection of shoes which came next...
...but I just wasn't in the mood at the moment...
...especially after catching a glimpse of the knee high, powder blue, fringed-and-beaded gladiator sandals on page 12!
Likewise, I skipped the entire 'Handbags' section...
...and the 'Accessories' section...
...and the 'Fragrances' section...
...coming, at long last...
...to a much more entertaining part of the catalog...
...the "Lingerie' section!
The bras were pictured first.
I've been to Build-A-Bra with Sam a few times, but she always went into a separate dressing room (despite my eager suggestions that we 'make room for the other shoppers' and share one), and I never got to see her in any of the ones she picked out, but I know for a fact that she never bought a push-up bra...like the coral-colored one on this first brunette model...
...Sam doesn't need to 'push them up'.
She's also never bought lace...
...which is just as well...
...since I don't really like it anyway...
...because I find it to be very scratchy and impractical.
This model's breasts were freakishly huge.
I've never actually seen Sam's bare chest...although I have 'sorta-kinda' seen it...when she stays over and wears just a T-shirt to bed...but, even with her shirt on...
...it's obvious that her breasts are beautiful.
I turned my attention away from the model's 'basketball boobs', and toward the rest of her body. Unfortunately, she was only pictured from the waist up, so I had no idea what her lower half looked like, but she had a magnificent, flat stomach, and pretty (wind-blown(!) hair, and angular shoulders...
...and, as I looked her over...
...closely and appraisingly...
...I felt my cheeks flush...
...as I felt the first faint, but unmistakeable, stirring in the pit of my stomach...
...and realized what was starting to happen to me...
...and what was soon going to happen.
I wondered what the rest of her looks like...
...and tried to picture it.
I'll bet she's wearing matching, coral-colored panties...
...which are so low-cut that they show off most of the long expanse of her perfect stomach...
...and which contour perfectly around her superbly-curved butt...
...which probably segues into a pair of long, tanned, toned, thighs...I thought...
...as I felt the first sharp contraction between my own.
I didn't spend a lot of time looking at the bras in this section...
...but rather, on what was inside them.
Unfortunately, I didn't like most of what I saw...
...because, even though the majority of of the models were otherwise attractive...
...they were obviously siliconed to the max.
So I focused instead on the rest of their bodies...
...very closely...
...becoming very aware, as I did...
...of the changes which were gradually, but definitely, taking place within my own...
...feeling the nerve endings inside my vulva becoming more and more sensitive...
...and the area beginning to swell...
...as it became engorged...
...and as I became more and more aroused...
...with every page that I turned.
At first I tried to resist...
...looking away from the pictures...
...shaking my head, attempting to clear it...
...and then trying really, really hard to look at the models in an objective, detached, clinical kind of way...
...the way that a straight girl who was shopping for underwear should...
...but, before long, I had to give in to my urges...
...because they were way too strong...
...and I had to give in to the the models' pictures...
...because their bodies were having such a profound effect on mine...
...one that I found impossible to ignore...
...or to resist...
...and I squirmed in conflict...
...with my feelings alternating between shame and lust, as I realized...
...that I really didn't want to anyway.
I wanted to keep looking...
...and to keep fantasizing...
...and to keep feeling what I was feeling in the pit of my stomach...
...and in the area between my legs.
And so, completely surrendering to my steadily-growing, totally compelling longing and desire...
...I turned the page...
...and came, at last, to my favorite section of all.
Panties.
Yes.
The first picture wasn't very inspiring. It featured something called a 'Z-string', which bears a very strong resemblance to a narrow shoelace...and, as you might expect, doesn't cover much. The stupid thing makes thongs look positively voluminous! I mean...if that's all you're going to wear...then you may as well 'go commando'.
Anyway, it was being worn by a raven-haired, pissed-off-looking model, whose expression suggested that she was dangerously close to whipping out an Uzi (where the hell would she hide it(?) and splattering your brains across the wall behind you.
One arm was strategically placed across her chest...so I have no idea what her boobs looked like, but she was severely thin...kind of like the subjects of Erte lithographs.
She's probably a real bee-yotch in bed.
I wonder what that would be like.
Having had zero experience in sex thus far, I can only speculate...
...but looking at her made me picture all sorts of nasty scenarios...
...which I didn't find the least bit appealing...
...since I'm not into pain and suffering...
...because I currently have more than enough of both in my life as it is.
I wasn't sorry to turn the page...
...to another model...brunette this time...
...with her back to the camera.
She was looking over her right shoulder...
...but, despite her very attractive face...
...my eyes were riveted to the mesmerizing view of the light blue, satin bikini panties that were stretched tight across her flawless butt.
Oh. My. God.
Eagerly and hungrily, I flipped through the last few pages.
Hmm...she's cute...
...hmm...she's pretty...
...hmm...she's beautiful...
...hmm...she's hot...
...hmm...I'm gay!
With a sigh, I turned to the back cover...
...to the picture that made my day...
...my month!
This model looked younger than the others.
Her blonde hair cascaded halfway down her back, which was facing the camera...
...and she had her right knee up on an antique chair, with red and gold striped satin upholstery.
Her left hand was on her hip...
...and her right hand was pulling her gray T-shirt up nearly to shoulder level, as she looked back at me over it.
She was wearing white silk panties...
...which looked absolutely stunning against her perfectly-tanned skin.
White silk panties.
My absolute favorite.
I wonder what Sam would look like in those...
...but I'll probably never find out, because she hates any and all girly clothes. And, on the rare occasions when I've seen her without her pants on, she's always wearing boxers...which I have to admit are cute on her...
...but aren't nearly revealing enough.
I know for a fact that she actually does own one pair of panties...ugly, boring, cotton ones that say 'I heart Vegas'. They were an atrocious Christmas gift from her mom, and they're Sam's 'bottom-of-the-drawer' underwear...which means that she only wears them as a very last resort.
I looked more closely at the ones the model had on.
I wish she'd wear these. I'll bet she'd look even better in them than this girl does.
I love Sam...
...and I love silk...
...and I want her to wear panties! So badly! Then, Sam's outfits would match the rest of her: Rugged on the outside...
...but incredibly soft (and probably sensual) on the inside.
My eyes devoured the girl in the picture. She was smiling, and even though her back was to the camera...I'll bet that her breasts are real.
I wish I could see them.
I wish she'd let me touch them.
She looks so hot.
Her butt was perfect, her legs were flawless, and, since her right knee was up on the chair...
...they were spread far apart...
...and all I could think of was how badly I wanted to slide my hand up inside them...
...from the front...
...and to explore the warm, inverted valley between them...
…for hours on end...
...wondering how it would feel against my hand...
...and if Sam would enjoy the way I was touching it...
...and if she would feel the same forceful contractions that I was now feeling...
...and if the both of us would feel her getting wet...
...like I was beginning to.
I closed my eyes...
...and pictured her lying next to me...
...looking up at me in breathless anticipation...
...as I slowly undressed her...
...removing her shirt...
...and then her bra...
...and then her jeans...
...until she was wearing nothing but a pair of sleek, white silk underpants...
...which hugged her body like a second skin...
...and how she would put up absolutely no resistance as I spread her legs apart...
...and lowered my hand between them...
...and placed it against her...
...and how she would tilt her head back and close her eyes...
...as she began to move forward against it...
...non-stop...
...and, as she did, how I would feel the crotch of her panties gradually becoming damp...
...and then soaked...
...as the wetness from her vagina drenched them...
...wetness that I had made happen!
Eyes still closed, I took a ragged breath...
...as I realized that I could feel my heartbeat pounding between my own legs...
...and then, I clearly felt the warm wetness that had steadily been collecting between the swollen lips of my own vulva...
...and filling it completely...
...until it absolutely couldn't hold anymore...
...begin to leak out of it...
...and into the crotch of my own white silk panties.
Oh, God...if she was here right now! I'd seduce her so passionately...and so expertly...that she'd-
I shifted at the thought, and, as I did...
...I felt a second wave of wetness soaking into my panties...
...and then, breathing shallowly and unevenly...
...I tossed the catalog aside...
...and reached across my bed for my other long pillow.
I hugged it to me with one arm...
...and, reaching out with my other...
...I switched off my table lamp...
...because it's so much easier to pretend in semi-darkness.
Lying down on my back, I pulled the pillow down on top of me...
...thinking of Sam...
...imagining that the weight which covered me from my neck to my knees was really the weight of her body on top of mine.
Tightening my arms around the pillow, I rolled over, pinning it under me...
...and kissing it, as I began to push my body forward and downward against her...
...feeling, with every thrust, the plateau of dull ache that had recently settled over my pelvis steadily falling away...
...to be replaced by frequent, sharp, violent contractions...
...which radiated from my center...
...down my thighs and through the rest of my body.
Eyes closed, I rolled over onto my back again...
...letting go of the pillow, and running my hands teasingly through my hair...
...and down my arms...
...and then over my chest...
...which sent shivers racing along every inch of me...
...while the spasms between my legs grew stronger...
...and much more insistent.
I moved my hands onto my chest again, and began to rub my breasts through my shirt...
...for about five seconds...
...before I found myself frantically yanking it off.
Ignoring my Sam/pillow completely...
...I rolled over onto my stomach again...
...and slid both hands down inside the back of my sweatpants...
...running them over the entire expanse of slippery silk...
...which was warm from my body...
...while vividly picturing Sam's hands back there instead of my own...
...caressing...
...rubbing...
...grabbing...
...as she whispered that she was going to do things to me that I had only dreamed about...
...and things that I had never dreamed were possible...
...while I felt my pelvis slam forward and downward into the mattress...
...as every single muscle in it clenched violently.
Absolutely aching from my arousal, I rolled back over...
...and, breathing shallowly and raggedly...
...i plunged my right hand down inside the front of my sweatpants...
...opening my legs wide as I did...
...and feeling equal parts shame and satisfaction...
...as my fingers discovered the soaking-wet state of my panties.
Trembling violently...
...I trailed my fingers teasingly up and down their saturated exterior...
...embarrassed at the knowledge that I had never been so wet before...
...and then, less than a minute later...
...completely unable to wait any longer...
...I slid my hand down inside them...
...and began to finger myself.
But, even though I was now completely aroused...
...and the formerly-intermittent contractions between my legs were steadily becoming more frequent...
...and more violent...
...I was also completely anxious...
...because, even though I've tried really hard in the past...
...I've never been able to orgasm with just my hand.
In fact, as unbelievable as this may sound...
...in my entire life, I've only ever had one orgasm...
...and I slept through it.
I can't remember what the dream was about...
...but it must have been an amazing one...
...because, when I woke up, I realized, from the way my body felt...
...that I had just orgasmed.
Hard.
I pushed that memory out of my mind and focused all my attention on my fingers...
...and the way they were stimulating my clitoris...
...because I was determined to 'have one' this time...
...but, after nearly ten minutes...
...I came to a frustrated, almost tearful stop.
I can't!
I want to so badly...but I can't!
I want to...no, I need to cum!
So badly!
Right now!
And then...
...I came to a complete physical and mental halt...
...as I realized...
...that there's one way that I can orgasm...
...a way that I've known about for a while...
...but have never actually tried...
...because I was too scared...
...and still am.
But, still realizing that I desperately needing release...
...I began to touch myself again...
...thinking of Sam...
...rubbing so hard...
...and throbbing so hard...
...but, ultimately, having to acknowledge that it wasn't working.
I stilled my hand and slammed my head back against the pillow in utter frustration.
I want to orgasm...I have to!
And...there's one way that I'll be able to...
...and, even though it's frightening...
...I have to admit that...
...I...
...want to.
Since Spencer wasn't home, there was no point in getting dressed...
...so I opened my bedroom door and, still wearing nothing but my panties, I walked, heart pounding, down the hall...
...and into the bathroom.
I turned on light...
...as I stood near the door...
...still uncertain...
...but still achingly unfulfilled...
...and ultimately realizing that...
...I have to.
So, I crossed the room...
...approached the vanity...
...and opened the bottom drawer.
I looked down at it for a long time.
It had been lying in here, untouched, for nearly three years...
...since my dad had last used it on his bad back.
He had bought it on the advice of his physical therapist...
...and hadn't needed it since...
...but I did need it.
Right now.
The massager was white and teal...and had a huge, wedge-shaped head.
It was clearly designed for external use...
...which was fine with me.
I'm saving my virginity for Sam.
Still, I hesitated. No one that I knew used...toys. Would doing this make me a perv?
Within seconds of deliberating this question, the powerful, pounding ache between my legs managed to convince me that...
...I didn't care.
Finally, I reached out and picked it up...
...and hesitated again...
...as I debated...
...for several additional, very long minutes...
...but, in the end...
...lust won out...
...and I tightened my grip on it...
...and slowly walked, trembling (for more than one reason), back to my bedroom.
After locking the door, I sat down on my bed and stared at what I was holding.
And then...
...less than a minute later...
...I surrendered to my body's insistent demands...
...completely...
...and, hands shaking...
...I plugged it in.
Setting it down beside me...
...I lay on down on my back...
...bending my knees, with my feet flat on the mattress, and then...
...slowly and breathlessly...
...I opened my legs.
Closing my eyes, I slowly trailed my fingers down my chest, between my breasts...
...and then down my stomach...
...down the slippery surface of the outside of the front of my panties...
...down between my legs...
...and then, pretending that the fingers between them were Sam's, and not my own...
...I lightly, gently, tickled myself through the white silk which clung wetly to my crotch.
As I did, my pelvis lurched up off the bed as every muscle in the area spasmed...
...simultaneously and violently.
I want her to touch me...this way...so badly!
Lowering my shuddering hips down onto the mattress again...
...I continued tickling myself...
...gradually increasing the pressure from my fingertips...
...feeling as my panties steadily went from 'wet' to 'soaked'...
...finally pressing my fingers against them so tightly...
...that they easily penetrated my outer lips...
...and then, I began a frenzied assault on my clitoris...
...rubbing it, brutally hard and incredibly fast, through my panties...
...until, realizing that I just couldn't wait any longer...
...I reached down beside me...
...and picked up the massager.
I was so scared.
I had never done anything like this before...even though I'd thought about it...
...more than once.
But I didn't stop.
I couldn't.
Without turning it on, I lowered it between my legs...
...and pressed it against myself...
...immediately feeling a massive jolt of anticipation run through me...
...as my body realized what was about to happen...
...and then, I began to push my pelvis forward against it...
...over and over...
...until, finally, I couldn't take it anymore...
...and, setting the massager next to me for a moment...
...I lifted my hips...
...and pulled my panties down.
Once they were at my knees, I picked it up again...
...pausing...
...reflecting on what I was about to do...
...and on everything that it meant...
...and then, with the switch still in the 'off' position...
... I lowered it between my legs once again...
...and, spreading the lips of my vulva apart with my left hand...
...I positioned the wedge-shaped tip against the left side of my clitoris...
...and, turning my head to one side, facing the window...
...I saw the steel-gray sky on the other side of it...
...and the raindrops running down it..
...and Sam's face pressed against it.
With a strangled gasp, I yanked the massager's plug out of the wall, reached down for the covers which were tangled at my feet, pulled them up to my chin, and shoved the massager and the Victorian Secrets catalog under them.
Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh-God-Oh God!
What, if anything, did she just see? Even though the room was semi-dark?
OH, GOD!
Shaking violently, with equal measures of guilt and fear, I turned my attention back to the window...
...to Sam.
Her face was kind of scrunched up, whether from trying to see in, or from disgust, I didn't know.
Wrestling with my voice to keep it steady, I called, "It's unlocked,"...
...and she pushed up the sash...
...and climbed inside...
...covered with rain.
Closing the window, she turned to face me.
"Carls?" was all she said.
"Y-yeah?" I managed to get out.
"Is everything uh...okay?" she asked tentatively.
"Y-y-y-ep."
After a sweeping glance around the darkened room, she crossed over to my side of the bed, and sat down on the edge of it...
...and then, before I could stop her...
...she lit my table lamp...
...and I slid even farther down under the covers.
Turning around on the mattress, she leaned over me and smiled. "Good to see ya!"
(Oh, the irony!)
"B-back at ya," I replied...
...glad that she couldn't see that, aside from my panties, which were still down around my knees...
...I was completely naked.
She glanced at the clock on my nightstand. "Hey, it's almost four, which means that Girl Cow is about to come on...so let's go downstairs and watch it," she stated enthusiastically...
...grabbing the edge of the covers...
...which I hurriedly yanked from her hand.
"Sam...you're soaked!"
"Aw, a little rain never hurt anyone...it's not like I'm 'Dry clean only'," she reminded me.
"I know...but still. Grab some clean clothes and go take a shower."
"Okay...okay!" she agreed (reluctantly), heading for my dresser.
As soon as she'd left the room, I threw the covers off, jumped out of bed, shoved the catalog and massager down under it...dragged my wet panties off, and flung them into the hamper. I wished I could 'clean up', but Sam was in the bathroom, so I grabbed a pair of clean panties, pulled them on, and then retrieved my T-shirt and sweat pants, and put them on again.
I jumped back onto the bed.
About ten minutes later, Sam came back in...clean, dressed, and dry (except for her still-damp-from-the-shower hair). She crossed the room, grabbed my hairbrush from the dresser, and then came back and sat down on the edge of my side of the bed.
"So...what were you doing in here anyway?" she asked casually, running the brush through her tangled curls.
"Uh...just trying to take a nap," I lied...
...as I grabbed the damp towel she had tossed down beside me...
...and furtively cleaned the 'Carly-covered' fingers of my right hand.
Apparently (and hopefully...oh, God, Please!) buying it, she nodded. "I was going to come over earlier but I...ow!" she exclaimed...
...encountering a knot.
"Here, let me," I offered, sitting up, schooching back against the headboard, bending my knees, and gesturing toward the open space between them.
She thought it over for a moment and then nodded...
...so I took the hairbrush from her...
...and she scrambled up onto the bed, and sat down, facing away from me...
...between my legs!
Thrilled at having her body so close to my own, I took my time brushing her hair...ever-so-gently untangling the few knots I found...as she sat, patiently and quietly. Just as I was finishing, she reached up with her left hand and started rubbing the back of her neck.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah...just a little stiff right now."
"From what...dare I ask?" I inquired...
...setting the brush aside, gently moving her hand away, and resting my own hands on her shoulders.
"Well, you remember my cousin Garth, the one who was...oh, Carls...oh, that feels so good!" she moaned...
...as I began caressing her shoulders and neck.
"Glad y-you like it...g-go on," I encouraged, gently probing for the sore spots, and carefully working them out...
...as she continued, "Well, he's been out on parole for awhile now, but he's been having a hard time finding a job, so he decided to do some painting."
"Isn't that what landed him in jail in the first place?" I asked.
"No, not graffiti...interior walls!" she corrected me. "His old apartment building, the one over on Fourth and Madison, is 'going condo', and it's completely vacant right now, and he managed to convince the landlord to let him paint the place, so now he's...oh yeah, Carls...right there!"
I focused on the 'bad spot' at the top of her right trapezius...
...and I'm pretty sure I got rid of it...
...because, less than a minute later...
...to my total surprise and elation...
...she leaned back against me...
...with a sigh.
"Feeling better?" I asked.
She nodded.
"I'm so glad," I replied...
...as I tried to decide where to rest my hands...
...finally settling on laying them, palms down on top of my thighs.
Sam exhaled, and as she did...
...I felt her body relax against mine...
...and I had to remind myself to breathe.
When I had finally forced my own breath into a steady cadence, I said as evenly as I could, "So...the place is going condo-"
"Oh, yeah," she continued, "anyway, the building has a total of twenty-six apartments, so Garth needed help. At first he was using his friend Lew, but that guy's a completely unreliable drunkard, so, after only two days Garth fired him, and then he asked me to help him out...with the whole project. Right now we're moving abandoned furniture down to the basement-"
"Wow, Sam Puckett doing any kind of physical activity? I never thought I'd see the day!" I teased.
She stiffened slightly. "Well...yeah, but the the money's really good. I'm getting $125 a day, under the table."
"Not bad...are you done for the day now?" I asked...
...hopefully.
"Well, for the afternoon anyway," she answered, shifting her weight...
...causing her back to rub against my breasts...
...and unknowingly driving me crazy.
After a minute or two of silence, she continued, "Carls, I was wondering...if you wanna go to the movies with me tomorrow."
I hesitated. "Uh, I thought the health inspectors closed the Humongo-plex earlier this week...when they found those twenty-seven rats in the concession stand," I reminded her.
"Well, yeah...they did...but there's a couple of great movies playing over at the Warwick."
"Which ones?" I asked eagerly.
"I'll give you a hint," she replied. "The first one, you've been meaning to see since it came out. It's the story of two gay ranchers who were forced to leave the mountains and relocate to the city."
"You mean...'Sheepless in Seattle'?"
"That's the one!" she answered with a laugh. " And the other one I've been wanting to see. It's an Action Movie, and it's based on a certain cartoon that we both love."
"Duh...I have no idea which one that is," I teased.
"The new Girly Cow movie," she answered...
...sounding slightly annoyed.
"Just joking, Sam! I've heard of it. Isn't it the one where Girly Cow joins a street gang?"
"Yeah. It's called 'Die Herd: Cuds vs. Cripps'," she announced...
...trying (and failing) to suppress a yawn.
I tilted my head forward, next to her ear. "Someone's getting sleepy," I said in a low voice.
"Not really...I just moved a ton of furniture...but I'll get my second wind soon," she announced...
...but right then, I decided that I wanted her to stay right here...
...with me...
...all night.
"Yes, you are tired, Sam...I can tell," I replied quietly.
She shook her head.
I ignored her.
"Anyway, I'd love to go to see both movies with you tomorrow," I continued. "We could have Sunday brunch together around ten a.m., and then go to the theater in the afternoon."
As she nodded, I felt her sigh...
...and felt the way her completely relaxed body was lying against mine...
...and then...
...nervous as hell...
...but knowing that I'd hate myself for the rest of my life if I let this incredibly rare opportunity pass...
...I slowly lifted my palms from my thighs...
...and gently wrapped my arms around her.
She let me.
"Did you walk all the way here in the rain?" I asked softly.
She nodded again, apparently too tired to answer.
"I love the rain," I said...
...slowly and quietly. "The hypnotic way it beats against the windows...and how wonderful it is to be inside...in a warm, comfortable bed...with nowhere to go...with nothing to do..."
Soon, her breathing became more deep...
...and more even...
...and I realized that she was almost out.
I shifted my arms...
...wanting to wrap them more closely around her...
...and, as I did...
...my left hand happened to touch hers...
...and, seconds later...
...her own hand moved slightly...
...and then...
...now barely conscious...
...she slowly intertwined her fingers with mine...
...and, less than a minute later...
...to my utter joy...
...she was asleep in my arms.
I myself was completely incapable of sleep.
All I could do was sit there looking at her...
...in speechless contentment...
...feeling her chest rising and falling against my arms...
...as she breathed...
...and as she dreamed.
After hoping and praying for this...
...for such a long time...
...not sure if it would ever (or could ever) happen...
...it actually, finally has.
Thank you, God.
The feeling of holding her was far beyond total bliss...
...for about five minutes...
...after which...
...due to the quasi-upright position I was sitting in...
...my lower back began to ache.
Badly.
Not wanting the moment to end...
...I tried, heroically, to ignore the pain...
...but, after five minutes more...
...my entire back was killing me.
It was no good.
I was going to have to move.
Determined to do everything in my power to not wake Sam up, I ever-so-slowly eased myself up into a sitting position, and then tried to move her from between my legs, so I could lay us both down...
...but, just as I had almost succeeded in getting her settled next to me...
...her eyes flew open...
...and her fingers released mine.
"Sorry, Carls...didn't mean to doze off on you."
"Shh...it's fine," I said quietly, "really...so just go back to slee-"
I stopped.
"Sam...are you okay?"
"Yeah...why wouldn't I be?" she countered.
I looked at her more closely. "Well, it's just that...your face looks kind of flushed...you're not coming down with anything are you?" I asked with concern, as I reached out and felt her forehead...
...which definitely was warmer than it should have been.
"No, I'm fine," she insisted. "It's just...kind of hot in here, that's all."
"Are you sure?" I asked...
...gently lowering her onto her back
"Yeah, Carls...I'm sure."
"Okay, then...why don't you take off your...here...just...let me-" I said absently...
...reaching down and pushing her 'Rabid Cats Rule!' sweatshirt up.
She reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck...
...and I leaned back, lifting her up...
...and then, without too much difficulty, I managed topull it off her.
"There, is that better?" I asked, settling her onto her back again.
She nodded.
With a smile, I set her sweatshirt over on my nightstand, and lay down on my side...
...next to her.
My body must have been blocking her view of the bedside clock because she asked, suddenly, "Carls, what time is it?"
"It's nap time," I said gently
"No, seriously, what time is it?" she insisted...
...rolling onto her side to face me.
"I am being serious, Sam...it's nap time," I repeated quietly.
She shook her head. "No, really...I'm not tired."
"Shh," I said...
...reaching out as I did...
...and beginning to, slowly and gently, rub her left shoulder. "Yes...you are."
"I'm not...really," she insisted, barely suppressing a yawn.
I moved a bit closer. "Oh, yes you are, Sam...it's obvious...so just close your eyes for a little while."
"But...I-" she began...
...but I shook my head.
"Come on," I urged...
...in a voice barely above a whisper...
"...just for a little while."
Suddenly, to my surprise...
...she shivered.
"Oh, no...I really think you're getting sick," I repeated, reaching for her hand...
...which felt like ice.
"I swear I'm not sick, Carls...I'm just...kinda cold right now."
With a nod, I sat up, reached down, and pulled the covers up over us...
...and then...
...heart hammering...
...I slowly yet deliberately draped my right arm over her left side...
...and, placing my palm flat against her back, I pressed it against her slightly...
...and whispered, "Come here."
And, without hesitation, she slid forward a few inches...
...completely closing the gap between us.
"Is that b-better? Do you feel any warmer now?" I asked tentatively.
She moved her head forward...
...and, resting her face against the front of my shoulder...
...she nodded.
And then...
...with my arm still around her...
...and not daring to breathe...
...I slowly rolled over onto my back...
...which pulled her forward...
...and up onto me...
...where she lay...
...with her body completely relaxed.
I took a few steadying breaths...
...waiting, fearfully, expecting her to roll off me...
...and far across the bed...
...and words don't exist to describe my relief...
...when she didn't.
I turned my head on the pillow and looked at her face.
Her eyes were closed...
...and her breathing was slow and even.
Reaching down, I touched her hand...
...which was (thankfully) warm now...
...hoping that her fingers would entwine with mine once more...
…but they didn't.
She was asleep.
And, within minutes...
...so was I.
I awoke without opening my eyes, and, as I did, I found myself lying on my side again...
...and smiling...
...as I remembered.
And then, eyes still closed, I raised and extended my arm...
...leaned forward...
...and fell flat onto my face on the mattress.
My eyes snapped opened...
...to find the bed empty.
I checked the clock. I had been asleep less than three hours.
Where was she?
Probably peeing.
Pushing the covers off, I hurried down the hall and saw...
...the bathroom door ajar and the lights off.
Oh, no, I thought, dismayed...but then...
...as I sighed, I got a whiff of sauteed onions and mushrooms. Spencer was home and, as promised, was making cheesesteaks for dinner...
...so, of course, she'd be down in the kitchen.
But first things first.
I needed to pee.
When I pulled my panties down, I could smell the lingering aroma of my arousal...
...oh, my God...when she had been sitting between my open legs...had she been able to smell it too?
I hope not.
And, when I wiped...
...I felt the abundant amount of now-sticky residue, that had accumulated earlier, and which was still in my vulva.
Making a mental note to take a shower right after dinner, I looked down at the bathroom floor...
...and at the clothes which Sam had casually strewn across it.
After pulling my pants up, I opened the hamper, and then began picking up her discarded clothes and tossing them into it...her T-shirt...her socks...her hooded sweatshirt.
I picked up her jeans, stopping to check the pockets, and, satisfied that they were empty, I tossed them in with the other clothes...
...and, as I did...
...her red and blue sailboat motif boxers felt out of one leg.
I bent down and picked them up. They were almost as damp as the rest of her clothes.
I held them for a long time...
...debating...
...and then, blushing profusely, I looked inside...
...at the thin line of slightly whitish discharge (the normal kind) that was on the crotch.
It didn't surprise me. When girls wear boxers, I guess the center seam can give you a frontal wedgie...
...especially if you've been moving around a lot...and crouching to pick up furniture all day.
And then...
...heart pounding...
...and hoping to God that my mom wasn't looking down...
...I closed my eyes..
...and brought her boxers to my face...
...and sniffed them.
Sam smells like the sea.
A little salty.
A little tangy.
I like it.
Oh, yeah...Sam...
...and dinner.
I flung her shorts into the hamper, and hurried downstairs...
...to see Spencer setting our dinner down...
...on the kitchen table...
...which had only two place settings.
"Have you seen Sam?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager, as I crossed to the sink and began to wash my hands.
"Yes...I ran into her on my way in," he replied. "I invited her to join us for dinner, but she said she had other plans."
"Oh."
Disappointed, I slid into my seat...
...but cheered up considerably when I saw the huge cheesesteak sandwich...with provolone, sauteed mushrooms, and onions...on a warm, crusty semolina baguette roll...with a side of Spencer's homemade waffle fries...that was on the table in front of me.
At least I hadn't lost my appetite...
...but, still, I rushed through dinner...
...wanting to be alone again.
I needed to think.
"I have to head right back out after we eat," Spencer announced. "The photographer just called Socko and said that he wants to re-shoot everything...the entire collection...but this time, he wants me to shave my legs first."
I disappeared under the table to retrieve my fork...
...which had fallen from my hand...
...when I lost my grip on it...
...at this announcement.
Once I had re-emerged, he continued, "It'll take a while, but I should be back home around midnight. Are you going to be okay, here alone, until then?"
"Of course," I assured him.
Once I had put a respectable dent in the plate of brownies Spencer served for dessert...
...I excused myself and headed back upstairs.
When I returned to my room, the first thing I noticed was her sweatshirt, which was still lying on my nightstand...
...and the note that was sitting on top of it...
...which I hadn't noticed before...
...because I had hurried out of the room to find her.
Hands trembling, I unfolded it.
Hey, Cupcake,
Have to go put in a few more hours.
I'll see you tomorrow morning around nine...yes, nine a.m., believe it or not!
I have the whole day off...and I can't wait to spend it with you.
X
I stood staring at the way she'd signed off. X...was that because she was too lazy to sign her name...
...or did it stand for something else?
A kiss?
To any guys who are reading this: Girls rarely take anything a person says or does at face value...
...they always want to know 'what it means'...
...and they often spend hours deliberating on it...
...both with their friends and when they're alone.
Fun experiment: Tell your main squeeze, 'You're the girl I never knew I wanted!' And then watch as her head implodes from the confusion!
I turned my attention back to Sam's cryptic sign-off...
...and puzzled over it for a very long time...
...while I got undressed...
...while I took a shower...
...while I dried off...
...while I put on clean clothes...
...but, to my frustration, no concrete answer presented itself...
...so I pulled on Sam's sweatshirt (which felt like getting a hug from her), slid my feet into my sneakers..and headed downstairs...
...to see Spencer putting his jacket on near the front door.
"Hey Kiddo, the kitchen's clean...and I just shaved my legs, up past my knees...wanna see?" he offered, dropping one hand to his belt buckle.
"Uh...no thanks," I declined politely...
...and, with a smile and a shrug, he left.
I gave him a ten minute head start...
...and then I headed for the roof.
It was pretty dark, since the new lighting system wasn't completely installed yet, but the lit tower of the Barclay Hotel across the street cast just enough of a glow that I could see by.
I sat down on the hard concrete and rested my back against the wall...
...lost in thought...
...as I listened to the fading crescendo of sounds, as night descended over Seattle...
...the sounds that only a city can make.
Turning my face up to the darkened, still-overcast sky...I reflected on the late afternoon...and tried to sort it all out.
She was lying, voluntarily, in my arms...was it a friendly thing? What did it all mean? Could it possibly mean...that she has feelings for me? That she was hoping I'd kiss her? I don't know.
She'd given me no clues...
...and no encouragement.
I wish she could have stayed the night.
After nearly an hour of intensely-focused speculation, I realized that I still had no answers...
...and probably wouldn't be able to come up with any...
...anytime in the near future...
...so I headed back downstairs...
...and back to my bed.
I didn't bother to undress...
...just kicked off my shoes.
I didn't reach for my catalog either...
...but just lay there thinking that she had let me hold her...
...she had slept in my arms...
...she was going to spend the entire day with me tomorrow...
...and she was looking forward to it!
Oh, Sam...I can't wait for tomorrow, I thought, with a sigh...
...as I took her sweatshirt off...
...and pulled it onto my Sam/pillow.
Wrapping my arms around it, I rolled onto my back and, hugging it to me...
...and, pretending it was Sam...
...I began to speak to it softly...
...revealing all the things that I wanted her to know...
...until sleep finally silenced me.
A/N: Please review.