“It’s drivin’ me plumb crazy,” Anna complained, and Ororo heard her munching on something in the background. She leaned her face more deeply into the handset as she sat crooked over her keyboard, tweaking a Flash GIF file, slowing down the speed so that the blinking wouldn’t irritate sensitive viewers visiting the new portal.
“Whatsamatter, kid?” Ororo tried to push a smile into her voice, but was struggling. “Man trouble?”
“Gawd Almighty.” Ororo could hear Anna’s eye roll as plain as day.
“Oops.”
“It’d be one thing if he was just actin’ like a dickhead. Ah can handle that. But he ain’t.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Ya mean what AIN’T he doin’!”
“Come again?”
“ME! He ain’t doin’ ME! It’s…just…WEIRD! Ah mean, he likes me. I know that. It’s been a coupla months that we’ve been callin’ and goin’ out and just hangin’ out with each other. But we never get around ta sealin’ the deal!” Ororo nearly choked on her diet Pepsi.
“Gads…don’t do that, you almost made soda come out of my nose. So, you two haven’t-“
“Nope.”
“Wow. Couple of months…?”
“Two months, two weeks, an’ eight of the longest days of mah life, shoog. It’s killin’ me. Ah want the man so BAD, d’ya hear me? He’s so damned sexy, ‘Roro, Ah just can’t stand it! Ah mean, we’re healthy, compatible, red-blooded adults. He sweet-talks me. Ah get whim-whams, fer cryin’ out loud!”
“Whim-whams?”
“Yeah, shoog. Y’know, that little bubbly, soda pop feeling in yer gut when a guy ya like first asks ya out, or when ya kiss him and it feels like firecrackers are gonna fly out the top of your head?”
“Ah. Whim-whams. I understand them now. Man, Anna, that sucks. So what’re you gonna do?”
“Ah don’t know. Ah don’t wanna push the issue. Ah mean, Ah like Remy. He’s nice. He’s funny. He’s damned talented, too; he even made up a little song fer me the other day, and I got ta listen in on one of his jam sessions with his band. He can play. He holds doors. He likes t’go out an’ do stuff, so it ain’t like we have starin’ contests askin’ each other ‘what do you wanna do? Ah dunno, what do YOU wanna do?’ Ah hate that nonsense when Ah’ve had relationships like that. Ah just feel like…he’s holdin’ back something.”
“Like a secret?” Ororo shivered.
“Not so much. Just like he’s bein’ cautious. Ah just enjoy bein’ with him so much. It’s funny. Remy’s all that an’ a bag of chips. Boy’s fine.”
“Mm-hm,” Ororo agreed, keeping her own hormones in check as she remembered back to the bachelorette. “Not a bad dancer, either.”
“HEY! Mind outta the gutter, Munroe.”
“Hey, you mentioned it, not me,” she chuckled slyly.
“Women give him the eye when we go out. It don’t phase him. He’s polite, doesn’t go turning his head, and he pays attention to me like Ah’m the apple of his eye.”
“That’s what he’s supposed to do.” If he wants to stay healthy…
“Ah just wonder if he wants me that way; Ah don’t want it ta end up that he ain’t givin’ me some because he ain’t got anything left ta give, like a woman using him up that Ah don’t know about. Or baggage that he’s carryin’ around, if somebody burned him.”
“Girl, these days, good luck finding a man who hasn’t been burned. All it takes is one woman acting like a heifer and trippin’, to turn Mr. Right into Mr. Jump and Run.” Ororo saved her file and replaced the old file in her directory with the new one. “Remy seems pretty down to earth, Anna. He doesn’t seem like someone who likes to play games. Like you said, he’s gorgeous. He can have any woman he wants, but he doesn’t act like he’s out chasing all of them, or just letting anyone catch HIM. I liked watching you too that day at the mall. He was so cute; he kept staring at you every time you spoke.”
“Aw, shut up!” Anna’s voice was syrupy and full of unreleased giggles. Yup. She had it bad.
“Puppy love,” Ororo trilled, just to get her goat.”
“Gawd, stop that! Ah ain’t that lame, am Ah?”
“No. Whipped, but not lame.”
“Not laid, either, sugah.”
“What are you two doing this weekend?”
“Taking in a stand-up show. We’ve got tickets ta see this guy named Guido Carosella. He’s s’posed ta be pretty funny.”
“I saw him once! He’s a hoot! Guy’s huge,” Ororo murmured. “Try to sit up front.”
“Two drink minimum. Ah hope a little wine warms up a certain Cajun who happens ta already have a hot bod, but we’ll just hafta wait an’ see.”
“Go get him. Shoot, get some for me, too.”
“Please! Girl, ya already got a man.”
“Not really.” Ororo cringed at the shocked silence, followed by a gasp so deep it would have given most people an embolism.
“Oh, mah Gawd! Ororo Munroe, what’s goin’ on? What happened? Don’t tell me you and yer cutie pie are on the outs?”
“Cutie Pie flew the coop, and he left because I was trippin’.”
“Ooh. Fess up, now.”
“I laid the blame where it didn’t belong. Logan mentioned offhand that he saw Pietro out on the town with someone else back before we got together, right before Jean’s wedding. I wigged out.”
“What set ya off, hon?”
“It’s a mess.” Ororo sighed and took another fortifying sip of Pepsi. “Jean and I called ourselves burying the hatchet, and we got into it instead. We threw down in the parking garage.”
“Oooooooooooooooooo…” Anna tsked. “Mnh, mnh, mnh. Girrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrlll. Why didn’t y’all just leave it alone? She messed up. Ya needed ta be bigger than that, and skip openin’ that can of worms. Now they’re just wigglin’ an’ crawlin’ all over the place! Ya don’t hafta mend fences with her for messin’ with yer man, shoog, but ya don’t hafta let her get the best of ya, either. Yer a strong woman. She ain’t worth it.”
“Oh, Anna…thanks. I hate this. I don’t want it to seem like you have to take sides.”
“Are you kiddin’ me, shoog? Ah don’t want her goin’ after MAH man next!” Ororo snorted and recovered. “Ah love ya. Quit talkin’ that ‘takin sides’ mess. She messed up. Ah’m almost sorry Ah missed the two of ya goin’ at it, Gawd knows Ah ain’t seen a good bitch slappin’ since junior high.”
“Eeergggh.”
“Have ya called Logan?”
“Not really. I do the ring and hang up thing. It sucks. I don’t want to leave a bunch of messages that he doesn’t return. Because then, if he hears my voice, sounding all desperate and stalkerish, and he really DOESN’T want to hear from yours truly, then there I am, all over his voice mail.”
“Right. Crap. Good point. Ah guess emailing him would also be out?”
“He’s not into email. I sent him one once, and it took him a week to even read it, let alone let me know he had gotten it.”
“Then ta heck with it. Don’t beat around the bush. Go get that man, ‘Roro. Ah mean it. If ya feel like ya can just walk away and move on, and call it a done deal that’s one thing, but if ya care about him, and ya just feel like ya need ta talk this out with him, then get to it. It won’t get better with age.”
“It was just…stupid. I don’t know why I did that. Then I had to cry all over him first, just to make things even worse. He’s got to think I’m the PMS-stricken, psycho bitch from hell.”
“It ain’t like ya were breathin’ fire and walkin’ around with chocolate around yer mouth, high on Midol.”
“Nice image.”
“I try.”
“Gads…”
“CALL HIM.” Anna munched on another bite of something from her end of the line.
“What’re you eating?”
“Chocolate chip cookie.”
“Right. Maybe I’m not the one with the PMS…”
“Aw, hush now, you!” Anna’s words were garbled from having taken another mouthful. Ororo cracked up.
“Tell me about the show when you get back from it.” Then she had another thought. “And it wouldn’t hurt to wear something hot.”
“The man’s seen every ‘hot’ thing in mah wardrobe. It ain’t worked yet.”
“Right. We’re talking desperate times, then. C’mon over. You get to borrow my patented ‘gimme some’ outfit. Works every time.”
“Shit. Sounds dangerous.”
“Mmmmmmm.” Ororo’s voice was pure evil.
“Ah need all the help Ah can get. When can Ah come over and get it?”
~0~
Elsewhere, that same afternoon:
“Look, Mr. Rasputin, I’m wearing my Dora shoes!”
“Well, look at that, so you are! VERY fashionable,” he remarked, grinning to beat the band.
“Aliyah, sweetie, let me do your hair, okay? We’re going to be late,” Sage cajoled, looking flustered, and, Piotr thought, stunning. She wore a trim, coral red sweater and tapered black jeans, and her hair was loose for a change, falling in rippling waves past her shoulders. Her makeup was light, and she wore a perfume that made him want to swoop in for a better whiff, around her slender throat, but he held himself in check. Barely.
Mischievous brown eyes flirted with him from the couch as Sage went to work on some of the most stubborn hair ever grown.
“Goodness, it’s tangled fit to break my arm,” Sage grunted, tugging the stiff-bristled brush through Aliyah’s masses of thick, wiry curls. She wriggled and fidgeted, but did not cry out, impressing Piotr and feeding his assumption that both females were used to such a rigorous routine. He watched, intrigued, as Sage paused to slather a generous handful of something called Biosilk on the entire heap and smooth it through with her fingers, unknotting it as she went.
“Mama never used anything like that on Illyana’s hair,” he remarked.
“What kind of hair did she have?”
“Long, straight and blonde.” His mother saved it in a box when she lost most of it during her chemotherapy treatments.
“Well, there you go.” Sage went back to the task at hand, parting Aliyah’s hair into sections. “I had to learn as I went with her hair. The owners of a little hair care shop downtown took pity on me when they saw my earliest attempts at pigtails when she was about two. I was schooled properly about things like cradle cap, tenderheadedness, and the importance of ‘good grease.’ I love Aliyah’s hair. It’s good old-fashioned stuff, and she gets it honest from her father. Me, I wash my hair and go. I had no clue, back in the beginning. I was afraid to hurt her, but I didn’t want to send her out the door looking like I didn’t know what I was doing. Even if I didn’t!” As she chatted with him, Piotr watched her expertly detangling the ends of her hair with a wide-toothed comb one section at a time, and fastening off each section snugly with double-beaded ponytail holders.
“I want pink bobbles, Mommy,” Aliyah said imperiously.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah! I’m working on it, Bossy Britches,” Sage nagged back, tickling her. Piotr felt a warm tingle that made his face crack wide open. He couldn’t stop grinning from the moment he walked in the door, even if he couldn’t describe why. Which was why he couldn’t name that other strange little lonely pang, almost of something denied him. He felt deprived.
He shook it off.
Sage began plaiting Aliyah’s curls into neat, snug ropes, fingers deftly flying and making it look deceptively easy.
“Happy Feet, Happy Feet,” Aliyah sang, bouncing up and down in her seat.
“Happy Feet,” Piotr hummed back. Aliyah dissolved into giggles.
“NOOOOOO! Not YOU! You can’t sing!” she insisted. Piotr folded his arms defensively for her benefit.
“Well, of course I can!” Then he opened his mouth, inflating that broad chest and emitted some sound halfway between operatic bellowing and…yodeling. Aliyah hid her widely smiling mouth between her hands.
“Gads…” Sage was at a loss. She bowed her face into her hands and laughed in choking spurts. Moments later, she presented Aliyah, completely coiffed and spiffy.
“Here she comes, Miss America,” Piotr warbled.
“Stop! Mommy, tell him to stop!” Aliyah giggled, jumping up and tackling Piotr around the knee caps. Sage was interrupted from telling her daughter that Piotr was just having fun with her when her cellular rang inside her purse. She dashed over to get it, thinking to tell the person on the other end that she was just headed out the door.
“Hello?” she answered breathlessly.
“Sage…it’s Luke, baby.”
“Don’t call me that.” Her voice was ice. Piotr looked up from Aliyah’s antics, namely letting her hang off his hands and ride on his feet as he trodded around the living room. His eyes met Sage’s with concern, and she turned her back to him to take the conversation out of the room.
“What’s up? I’m in town today.”
“And?”
“Pfft. Don’t be like that. You know what. I wanna see my baby girl.”
“Sure you do. I’ve already got plans for us today.”
“They better include me, then. I want to see her today.” His tone wasn’t as cavalier now, even though he wasn’t raising his voice. They’d had their share of shouting matches before.
“I’m taking her to the movies. She wants to see Happy Feet.”
“Then I’ll take her. She can see it with me.” He offered the suggestion like a command, expecting no argument. Simple solution.
“Piotr already promised her we were going to take her.”
“Then tell ‘Pete’ he doesn’t have to promise her anything, since she’s not his kid.”
“Don’t be indignant. You always do this, Lucas.”
“What, wanting to spend time with my daughter? Sure. If you weren’t always trying to control everything-“
“Oh, no you don’t,” she hissed. “I won’t get into this with you now.” Sage felt unease settle in her stomach, hating how her end of the conversation had to sound to Piotr.
“I’m coming over. I’m picking up Aliyah. Have her ready by the time I get there.”
“Lucas-“ CLICK. Sage rolled her eyes to the ceiling, then stared dejectedly at the dead phone in her hand. She clacked it shut, muttering “fuck, fuckity FUCK, that fucking fucker” under her breath on her way to the bathroom to check her hair one more time. She peered into the mirror. Everything was in place, but now her cheeks looked flushed. She was flustered and already had a building case of indigestion. “Thanks, Lucas. Fucker.”
She was sweetness and light when she walked back out to the living room.
“You look pretty, sweetie. Guess what? Daddy just called.”
“YAY!” Aliyah danced around, momentarily forgetting Piotr as she ran back toward her room. “I’m gonna show him my new Dora shoes and my dollie!”
“Oh…okay, sweetie,” she called back, looking back at Piotr with a sigh on her lips. “Okay. Change of plan. My ex is picking her up.”
“All right.”
“With that in mind, did you still have your heart set on Happy Feet?”
“Not all of us?” He looked appalled. She swatted him.
“Heck, no. Never in a million years.” Then she sobered. “Since this was previously a little outing…how about that ‘date’ date we talked about before?” A light went on in his eyes, and the two of them heard Aliyah’s scrambling footsteps coming back. Piotr leaned down and kissed Sage’s cheek before they were caught.
Aliyah rambled on about her daddy for the next twenty minutes while Sage played one of her Blue’s Clues DVDs to distract her. Piotr listened politely and nodded as she ran off her description of the differences between the two men, which he was starting to realize were vast, to say the least.
“My daddy drives a big truck.”
“My daddy wears his head bald. Mommy says he shaves it.”
“Daddy has a lady friend named Charlotte. She likes to kiss Daddy. It’s yucky. YUCK!” Sage and Piotr shared a measured look over that remark.
“Daddy has brown skin like me. And he has brown eyes. Your eyes aren’t like Daddy’s.” He agreed; no, they weren’t.
“Daddy’s funny. He calls me Pookie Pot Pie.”
“Daddy likes Nike shoes.”
“Daddy’s a poe-leece-man.”
The minutes ticked by restlessly, and Piotr offered to run to the store, in case Sage needed anything.
“I don’t need anything, you don’t have to go.” He heard the urgent, odd little note in her words: Please don’t run off. He felt her tense up in anticipation of the dreaded “daddy” visit and reached out to knead her shoulder soothingly. Slender fingers crept up to cover his and hold them there.
A brisk knock broke through their reverie. Sage hustled over to unlock the dead bolts without bothering to check the peephole.
“Where’s my baby girl?” a smooth baritone called out without preamble, and Piotr heard heavy footsteps cross the threshold.
“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY! DADDY!” Aliyah’s footsteps were light and fleet and she zipped by Piotr and her mother, launching herself into her father’s arms. Noisy kisses found their way onto her soft little cheek.
“How long were you wanting to keep her, Lucas?”
“I was thinking a movie. I might take her to dinner. I’m not sure yet.” His posture was relaxed, but his expression held a hint of a smirk of someone who didn’t feel he had to answer to anyone but himself.
“It would be nice if you could give us some insight, so we can plan our own afternoon,” Sage snapped, near the end of her tether. “I’ll have my cell phone on.”
“What, are you and Homeboy here leaving town?” he retorted nastily. Piotr repressed the urge to smack him upside the head, even while imagining the possibilities of doing just that. He craved time with Sage to get to know each other better.
So far, time spent with her was also time spent with Aliyah. He had no regrets, since those outings, dinners, movies, trips to the park and rides taken at Coney Island went from being “just getting our feet wet” to “I could really get used to this.” He’d initially been daunted, when he found out that Sage had someone to support, and he’d wondered where he would fit into their lives.
Now, he had already built memories out of those times together that he enjoyed, and wanted to build some more.
Seeing Lucas holding his daughter possessively in the crook of his arm, balanced expertly on his hip, made him wonder how many other opportunities he would have.
“I’ll have my cell phone turned on,” she replied crisply. “You can enjoy your movie. Just let me know when you want to bring her back to me. Mimi, if you miss Mommy, tell Daddy you want to give me a call, he knows how.” She leaned over and kissed her daughter, who returned it with a puckery little smooch of her own.
To his credit, Lucas looked good. Tall, but not as tall as Piotr. Just as buff, but he distributed his muscle differently, carrying a lot of power in his limbs and neck. Sage once marveled that he had a backside she could bounce a quarter off of, but she stopped those thoughts when he started acting hardheaded. Now she just wanted to drop him on his butt instead. He’d shaved his head smooth and trimmed his goatee. He filled Sage’s narrow hallway with the scent of his Drakkar aftershave and looked ready to stomp in new Nike cross-trainers and a host of other designer labels winking out from his jeans, tee, and hoodie. A small gold hoop winked out from his earlobe. He had dimples when he smiled, but he saved those for Aliyah, not caring what impression he made for the two that he was depriving of her company.
“Charlotte’s waiting in the car,” Lucas murmured, already turning his back.”
“Let me know if you change your plans,” Sage suggested.
“When I get around to it,” he shot over his shoulder, and took his leave, letting the door slam behind him. Piotr rubbed his neck and took in Sage’s growl under her breath with dismay.
“Okay, now that our day’s been turned upside down, what do you feel like “ MMmmmppphh!” Piotr decided there was only one way to take the tension and irritation from her with the least amount of awkwardness. She looked too good not to kiss, and kiss deeply. If the tightening of her fingers clutching his shirt and they way her tongue swirled around his was any indication, swallowing his tiny growl of triumph, she wasn’t unhappy with his choice of relaxation techniques. Not unhappy at all.
“We can look for a little tidbit for Mimi while we’re out and about,” Piotr suggested, nuzzling Sage’s neck.
“O-kay,” she gasped, going a little weak in the knees. Damn, he tasted good. “Right. Out and about.” Her bedroom was only a few steps away, but she smacked all of the sinful little voices in her mind over the head with a rolled-up newspaper and yelled “Down, heathens!”
After all, a woman had to eat.
“Let’s figure out lunch first.” So that was what they did. A twenty minute ride in Piotr’s car found them lunching at a small delicatessen on heroes with potato chips. Sage licked crystals of salt and grease from her fingers as she peppered Piotr with questions, which he didn’t seem to mind.
“When did she get leukemia?”
“She was four. Mother took her to her well-child checkup, and they found a strange growth in her neck when they felt her glands. After that, it all became a blur. Lab work, MRI scans, tests on her bone marrow, which were horrible…” his voice drifted off, and he pushed his plate back for a moment, scrubbing his face with his palm.
“God, Piotr…I’m sorry. That’s awful for you.”
“She was just a child. No one that little should suffer so much,” he murmured. “Knowing she would die was bad enough. Watching her hurt was a different version of hell. Having that last hope taken away when her doctors told Mama that the chemo wasn’t working anymore destroyed us. I miss her voice talking to me a mile a minute. I miss tripping over her toys. I miss hearing her ask me for piggy back rides on my shoulders. It’s not the same since she’s been gone. You always think your brothers and sisters will be on this earth at least as long as you will, that you’re all the other has until this life is over.”
“That’s the way it’s supposed to be.” Sage got up and gathered up her plate and tossed her crumpled napkins on top, nodding at his. He handed it to her before she leaned over to the trash and discarded the leavings neatly, brushing off her hands. “We’re not supposed to have to say goodbye to the ones we love before we’re good and ready. It never quite works out that way. God and I had words when he took my parents.”
“How did that work out?” That kind of pain he could relate to.
“God, two; me, zero. It took me a while to grow up and realize that he still loved me, even if my parents were gone. They were the most tangible form of that love. I stopped shaking my fist at him, and he gave me Aliyah. She has so many qualities of my parents. I see my mom’s smile on her face, see my dad’s walk whenever we go anywhere, and I feel like I found my purpose when she came into my life. What I had with her father didn’t last, but I have no regrets.”
“I only have one regret,” Piotr mentioned.
“What’s that?”
“That Illyana never met her. She would have loved her.” Piotr held the door for her and they held hands, enjoying the briskly cold afternoon full of possibilities.
They stopped at a midway fair set up in a shopping center parking lot and played games for an hour. Neither of them won anything except a small, beanbag-stuffed red bear that looked positively flammable that Piotr walked away with after popping two out of three balloons with weighted darts. They eventually decided on a movie, deciding on an independent film Sage had been curious about in a dilapidated theater that was nearly deserted for the matinee. They sat in the back, both agreeing that it wasn’t something they would pay money to see full price as a nighttime feature. Sage was on tenterhooks, wondering when Lucas would call. Piotr felt her radiating anxiety again, and he continued to hold her hand, playing with her fingers.
“We could head home, if you like.”
“Piotr…”
“I don’t want you to feel guilty being out with me when you don’t know when she’s coming home.”
“She’s my world.”
“I know. I don’t blame you for a minute.” He dug into the popcorn with his free hand. “Sage?”
“Hmm?”
“Is there any room in your world for one more?” Her heart skipped a beat.
“Who?” She met his eyes in the darkened theater, and the illumination from the screen lit his features, making him ethereally beautiful.
He answered her with another searching kiss, this one slower and sweeter than the one in her apartment. His lips were hot, fastening onto hers firmly and demanding a taste. She tilted her head up and let him have his way with her mouth, feeling his fingers cradle her jaw before combing through her hair. She gave herself up to the sensations and thrilled to his touch, suddenly hating the armrest that separated them.
“Piotr,” she gasped when they came up for breath.
“Da?”
“We weren’t really watching this crap anyway,” she announced.
“Nyet.” They shrugged into their coats and chucked the half-empty bucket of popcorn into the trash. The walk back to the car was clipped and quick. Piotr impatiently clicked open his doors with the chirp from his key ring, but couldn’t wait that long. Before letting Sage inside, he spun her around and backed her into the door, kissing the breath out of her, his palms holding her hot cheeks while he took what he wanted. She moaned raggedly, fisting her hands in the lapels of his coat. She felt something deliciously hard pressing insistently against her through her jeans and nearly cried mercy.
“One for the road,” he whispered, licking a tantalizing but too-short path up the side of her throat, suckling her tender lobe. She shivered.
“You’re killing me,” she cried.
“Misery loves company.” His palm crept up to fleetingly stroke her breast, testing the weight of the perfect globe teasingly.
“Oh, God!” They were inside and buckled safely in next to no time, waiting impatiently through every red light that seemed to pick right then to flash.
The ride home was too long, though it only took minutes. The walk up to Sage’s apartment was too long, though it only took seconds. The ritual of relocking the deadbolts was torture, even though it was necessary, even vital. And they wore far, far too many clothes for their collective sanity. Here a coat, there a jacket, everywhere a sock, sock…Sage’s fingers fumbled with the hem of his jersey, hauling it up, up and off, baring him and leaving her speechless. He was solid, rippling, and beautiful, skin smooth except for a faint sprinkling of dark hair on his chest and forearms, and a narrow trail of hair leading below his waistband. He had an inny, she noticed, making a note to nibble it when she had a moment.
Piotr encouraged her, laying her hands on his chest as he kissed her senseless again, backing her against the wall for better balance while he divested her of her clothes, unhooking the clasp at her waist, unzipping her and letting her jeans fall to her ankles in a puddle. Cool air kissed her skin, and she felt shivers of delight when he reached down to touch her, teasing her softness, wrapped temptingly in black satin bikini briefs. She moaned at him, and he felt the sound in his gut, feeling a manly thrill at her response to him and how silky she felt. Her sweater joined her jeans, and he scooped her up, wrapping her legs around his waist before he strode to her bedroom.
It was a small suite, appointed simply but elegantly in soft neutrals and oak furniture. A tall, well-stocked bookcase and a tiny computer desk graced one wall. A picture of Aliyah as a baby took the place of honor on the nightstand. The bed was queen-sized and covered with a down duvet in a pale green with cream-colored roses. A fat ceramic lamp with a muslin shade sat on the dresser, but it was still slightly light outside, just enough to allow them to see each other without turning it on.
Piotr set her down tenderly, kissing her because he couldn’t NOT kiss her. He broke away long enough to stand, and was about to drop his briefs.
“Wait. Let me.” Hers stilled them, and her fingers worked their way beneath the waistband of the well-laundered cotton, prizing them down the length of his taut, well-muscled thighs. His manhood bobbed free, tumescent and flushed with color, impossibly smooth amidst the nest of dark curls. She leaned forward and nipped his stomach, relishing how hot he felt beneath her hands and lips. He sucked in a breath as she continued to tease and taste his abdomen while snuggling him in her grip.
“Boszhe moi,” he groaned. He stepped between her thighs and came closer, letting her lead the way to paradise. She stroked her hand through the thatch of hair as she brushed a hot, wet kiss over the plump head, tasting the drop of salty sweetness pooled there, just for her. She wrapped her ankle around the back of his calf to lock him there while she made love to him with her mouth, languorously driving him out of his mind. He was buffeted against the walls of her cheeks, caressed by the raspy velvet of her tongue, and welcomed by the sweetness of her plump lips, bumping against the roof of her mouth. He clutched at her hair, no longer worried about mussing it. He leaned into it, crying out how good she felt.
“Oh, Lord…yes,” he gasped. “So good. Feels so good. Please, Sage,” he pleaded. He reached for her bra straps and nudged one off her shoulder, exposing her creamy flesh. “I need to see you.” He fumbled with the clasp of her bra before she obliged him, reaching back with one hand and unhooking it with one yank. He slid it off and tossed it aside, and she never broke her grip on him, merely adjusting herself and pacing each plunge carefully so as not to cause him discomfort. Her breasts were free for him to explore, and he plucked at one, rolling her nipple between finger and thumb. She emitted a cry from around his flesh, and he felt the sound all the way to his toes. He felt himself about to fall over the edge, but he wanted her too much to allow her to bring him to completion.
“If you want me to have anything left, you’ll lie back,” he cautioned her. “It feels too good when you do that. I want you.” His eyes were full of dark, sinful promise. He extracted himself from her sweet grip and knelt between her legs, kissing her, trailing his mouth down her throat. He nuzzled her ear, whispering into it, “If you like how I make you feel, I want to hear it.” He bent down and tugged her nipple into his waiting mouth, laving the stiff, rosy peak. Her arms snagged him there, and she was lost, crying out brokenly for him not to stop. They tumbled back onto the bed, alternately groping each other and mutually scooting their way toward the pillows until they were well situated. She sighed in relief at the feel of his body against hers, savoring the weight of him pressing her into the mattress. They were a writhing tangle of limbs, two people slowly melding into one with every touch and caress. She arched up into him, beckoning to him to rub his solid thickness against her damp core through the scrap of satin. He kissed a fiery path between her breasts, pausing only to spiral his tongue around each peak on his way down. His tongue trailed over her ribs and the soft curve of her belly, dipping into her navel. She quivered helplessly, desperate for what was next.
His breath scorched her through the satin, and she fought for some semblance of reason when his lips found her. He lapped at her essence, discovering her most precious secrets. The tip of his tongue danced wantonly with the hidden pearl, and he groaned with need. He wanted more. This still wasn’t enough. He had to have all of her. He nipped at her again, this time drawing down her panties with his teeth. “So beautiful,” he assured her, studying the picture she made, chest heaving, nipples flooded with color from his kisses, her dark thatch of curls in a tiny triangle, pointing like an arrow to buried treasure. Her hips were full and womanly, spreading out from the narrow dip of her waist, and her legs were lissome and splayed open for him, trembling as she waited for him. He kissed each thigh, looking up at her wantonly as he lowered his lips to her again, drinking nectar from her flower.
She writhed and flung her hands above her head, twisting them in the pillows.
“Yes.” The word shuddered out of her. She repeated it with every stroke of his tongue, filling the room with it.
She heard an odd little trill. Her purse was in the hallway, forgotten.
Shit.
“I wish you didn’t have to get that,” Piotr sighed in dismay, dragging himself up and staring at her imploringly. She sat up and leaned back on her elbows. They eyed each other, and he kissed her stomach.
“Stay. Don’t move,” she ordered imperiously, getting up and patting the space she just vacated. Instead, she heard his low footsteps padding after her as she went to retrieve her phone. She dug it out and picked it up before the last ring.
“Hello?”
“Took you long enough, woman. Baby girl wanted to say hi. Tell Momma what we’re going to do right now, sweetie.” Aliyah came to the phone, breathless and smiling from the sound of it.
“We’re gonna have a slumber party! Charlotte buyed me Cinderella! We’re gonna bake COOKIES!”
“Bought you Cinderella,” Sage corrected. She felt Piotr’s warm body enveloping her from behind, and his breath stirred the hair at her temple. “And that’s nice, Mimi.”
“Here’s Daddy,” she announced. Lucas came back on the phone, all charm. “Don’t you and your date worry your little heads about it. I’ll bring her back in the morning.”
“You didn’t pack a bag.”
“Charlotte took her shopping. Later,” he barked. She folded it shut and tucked it back into her purse, her mood slightly dashed until she realized one important thing.
“That was Luke,” she informed him.
“And?” He nuzzled her, and they began walking in a lazy stumble back to her room.
“And we can take our time,” she purred.
“Where were we?” Her answer got lost as they fell back into bed. She saved him a place where he left off, and he milked cries from her as the final rays of the sunset bathed the room in a rosy glow. She was getting closer to that fever pitch when he surprised her, jack-knifing his body until his legs were by her head. She was rolled neatly onto his abdomen, and he tugged her thighs until her knees were resting alongside his ears.
“Piotr, what…? OH,” she gasped, feeling him lapping at her from a newer, exciting angle that inflamed nerve endings she didn’t know she had. She leaned down and realized she could return the favor, engulfing him again in her mouth. He made her skin tingle and her heart sing, cherishing every inch of her, giving her such a sense of completion. She felt the stirrings of an orgasm, rushing over her from the peaks of her breasts to the walls of her cervix, and it rocked through her in a rush. She bucked against his mouth, releasing him from hers long enough to cry out. She lay shuddering on top of him trying to catch her breath, gripping him loosely against her cheek. He began to tug on her legs, this time kissing his way back up, baptizing her nipples in his mouth one last time before he was out from beneath her. He caught her wrist, and her world was turned upside down again as he righted her, urging her to lie on him. She obeyed his wish, and sheathed him within her. She felt so full, stretched, and finally whole, squeezing herself around him and following his silent command when his fingers bit into her hips. She shunted over him, riding him in long, smooth strokes, and this time she watched his face contort and relax, blissful and precious to her. Her body rippled like a cresting wave, and it was an erotic sight, watching her plunge down on him, seeing himself disappear into her depths again and again. Her breasts begged for his hands to cover them. He stroked her skin, enhancing their journey together when he reached between them and stroked her pearl sinuously, dragging moans from her as she sped up the pace. Heat and friction built and blossomed, pushing her over the edge, and she knew it was okay to fall. He was there to catch her, and she felt him stiffen and convulse, veins straining in his neck.
“God, please…YES!” His cries were ragged as he found his fulfillment. She pistoned, rubbing herself against him for a few last, tingling strokes before she, too exploded, jerking over him as delicious spasms rocketed through her.
“Piotr!” she whispered, spent, collapsing against him in a quivering heap. They lay there, panting and unable to move until their breath gradually slowed and synchronized. They enjoyed the shared exhaustion and glow and lay holding each other in the dusk. Sage was afraid to say anything that would break the spell, and she obediently crawled beneath the covers at Piotr’s urging, snuggling up to him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. He stroked her arm lazily, nibbling kisses at the bridge of her nose. She sighed in contentment, and he stared down at her curiously for a moment, smoothing her hair back from her face.
“What?” he pried.
“Piotr…I wanted this. I did. I do. You’re so…I don’t even know what to say right now.”
“I’d like to stay the night.”
“All right.” She nearly cheered. She settled back down against him, settling her body into the nooks and planes of his with ease.
“Sage?”
“Hmm?”
“I’d like to stay tomorrow night, too.” A girlish thrill of joy erupted in her belly.
“If I didn’t know any better I’d think you like me or something, Piotr,” she chuckled.
“Or something,” he murmured, kissing her languorously, his embrace possessive and greedy. “I might take the liberty of staying the night after that, too. Better yet…just block out every night on your calendar and stay ahead of the game.”
“Every night?” Her eyes danced with mischief.
“We’ve already managed that ‘one shot’ to give it a go that you stipulated before.”
“I stipulated it…I guess I did. Huh. There I go. Stipulating things,” she mused. “I said one shot, huh?”
“Da. Yes, you did.”
“What the hell was I saying?” His chest rumbled under her palm with laughter that made her feel soft and gooey inside.
“I didn’t want to question it. I didn’t want you to say no, so it was best at the time to shut my mouth and agree.”
“I knew there was a reason why I liked you. Well, make that two. You’re ridiculously sexy.”
“Spaceeba,” he murmured, burying his lips in her hair and inhaling the scent. “You’re not bad yourself.” She pinched him. “All right. I take that back. You blew my mind.”
“That’s better,” she answered dreamily, grinning in loose-limbed bliss. She felt signs of life in him, shifting her and caressing her more intently as he made his case.
“Your rules. No games, no bullshit, no I-told-you-sos. No regrets.” He cradled her face in his hands. “I didn’t want to need you.”
“Neither did I.” She nipped the pulse in his wrist and saw herself reflected in his eyes. “That doesn’t mean I don’t.” Her fingers feathered through the hair at his temples. “And Piotr,” she cooed, “I don’t regret it.” A peaceful contentment stole over him as she teased him, nuzzling the tip of his nose with hers and kissing him as if to seal a promise.
They made love again, less frenzied but with just as much hunger. Sage fell asleep with Piotr wrapped in her arms, plastered against her chest and with his head nestled beneath her chin. She never wanted to let him go.
She was terrified of the day that she ever had to.
~0~
Anna and Ali pulled up to Ororo’s home and parked out front, turning down the CD that they’d enjoyed at louder volume than necessary as they drove across town.
“Weird,” Ali remarked, noting that her front porch was dark, the light extinguished as though she wasn’t expecting company. “You called her to let her know I was coming with you, right?”
“She’s fine with it. She didn’t say she was headed out tonight,” Anna Marie murmured. “Her Honda’s here.” They got out of the car and tripped up the front walk cheerfully, hoping to bring Ororo out of the doldrums.
“Hope she’s doing okay.” Ali had gotten an earful of Anna’s account of “The Bitch Slap Heard Round the World.”
“She’s fine, or she’ll be fine, once she kisses and makes up with her sweetie pie,” Anna drawled. She knocked on Ororo’s door, calling out to her. “Roro, Ali an’ I are here!” No answer. She knocked again. She tried the knob, and noticed it swung open easily.
Anna let herself in, then noticed that the living room was also dark. The only illumination came from her hallway upstairs. No TV, no computer, no music from the stereo.
“Ororo? C’mon, girlfriend, where are ya?”
“Maybe she’s out back?”
“Ah guess. Let’s peek upstairs.” She hoped she hadn’t caught her in the shower; Anna hated to give her a scare. They made their way up the steps, heading toward the light, realizing it came from her bedroom.
“It’s still so bare in here. Well, that looks new,” Ali remarked, noticing a framed picture of Ororo and Logan, with her grinning from his lap. It looked like it was taken at Harry’s. “Cute!” she gushed. “They look good together. Complete opposites, but good.”
“Yup. ‘RORO! Ya told me ya’d let me borrow that come-an-get-it outfit of- OH, MAH GAWD!” Anna’s voice was choked and filled with horror.
Ororo was lying on the floor, arm flung over her head and her body spasming in jerking convulsions. Her blue eyes were rolled eerily back, and her lip was clenched between her teeth, oozing a trickle of blood.
“Shit,” Ali hissed, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Go! Run downstairs, Ali, and grab some juice, soda, anything that looks sweet,” Anna barked. “Ah’m stayin’ with her, and Ah’m callin’ 911!” Ali’s feet flew down the stairs, and she took a corner too fast, banging her leg against the seam of the wall on her way into the kitchen. She cursed and staggered to Ororo’s fridge, yanking it open and looking for drinks. All she saw was a carton of milk with a half a swallow left in the bottom. She tried the cupboards, thinking to mix a glass of water and sugar, or something else that was sweet, and she gratefully snatched the jar of Tang powder and dumped some into a souvenir cup from a fast food restaurant, her hands shaking as she worked the tap. She hustled back upstairs, slopping some over the rim of the glass as she made her way back to the room.
Ororo’s face was gray, and her heart was stuttering in her chest. “Oh, Anna! She looks awful! Here!” She shoved the glass into Anna’s hands, and tried to help steady Ororo from jerking so forcefully while Anna managed to get some of the liquid into her mouth. Her eyelids twitched, and Anna heard the hollow sound of her throat muscles trying to work it down. She was was still jerking, but Anna managed to get her to swallow some more, another short sip.
“She’s takin’ it, Ah think it’s helpin’! Here, grab something ta nudge under her head, like that shirt on the bed,” Anna advised.
“Not a pillow?”
“Naw. Just somethin’ soft and flat,” she urged. Anna got her to take a bit more Tang, and Ororo sputtered and coughed, drawing a breath that helped quell the growing hysteria blooming in Anna’s chest. With the shirt folded once beneath her cheek, they managed to steady her, urging her to roll to her side with her knees slightly curled. Ororo’s eyes were glassy when she opened them, and she began shivering, but she was no longer flinging herself back and forth. She moved her lips, her face full of questions and horror.
“It’s okay, baby, just rest, now.” Ali watched her from the bed, her cell in her hand, trying to force calmness she didn’t feel into her voice as she spoke to the dispatcher on the other end. She gave them the address and sighed as she described how they found her.
“They’re coming,” she announced weakly. “Hey, kiddo,” she breathed.
“A-Anna,” she whispered hoarsely. “What ha-happ…?” She shivered again, and Anna rubbed her back soothingly.
“Al, grab her a blanket.” Ali got up and whisked the comforter from the bed, draping it around Ororo and tucking it snugly around her body. She rubbed her back and swept her sweaty hair from her forehead, noticing it was drenched. “Ya took a bad fall, kiddo,” Anna explained. She didn’t want to throw her into a panic yet.
“We were worried about you. Your lights weren’t on.”
“I…can’t…remember,” she stammered. Her voice was rife with frustration, and Anna could see it in her eyes that she was trying to rebuild her day and what happened from square one.
“Don’t force it yet,” she suggested.
“I’m going downstairs to turn on the lights,” Ali mentioned numbly, still shaken. “I’ll get you a cool cloth for your lip, too, sweetie. Don’t move.”
“I can’t,” Ororo muttered. Anna stifled a chuckle before hugging her close and kissing her cheek. She took a good look at Ororo, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She held her hand and frowned at how thin her arms seemed, how bony her fingers felt in her grip.
“Ya don’t look like yerself,” Anna grumbled. “What’s been goin’ on, girl?”
“I’m tired, Anna Marie. Tired, and just plain sick of myself.”
“Hush,” Anna scolded gently. “Yer talkin’ crazy.”
“No’m not,” she whined, sniffling. Anna’s eyes welled up when she saw that Ororo was crying. “This “ THIS is what’s crazy. I guess I let Pietro off the hook,” she cried.
“Are you kiddin’?”
“Jean was right; s-she said that he didn’t want to d-deal with this,” Ororo stammered. “My low sugar, and our relationship, and trying to make it work. He thought I didn’t look after his needs.”
“Ya didn’t hafta. He was lookin’ out fer number one, from where Ah was sittin’.” Anna tsked and stroked her arm. “Ya did the best ya could.”
“I wouldn’t let it go. I wasn’t looking ahead. I just thought we would be married, and we would have our own happily ever after. And Jean was right. I was jealous of her. Not for Pietro and him schtupping her. That was just the last straw that broke this camel, Anna. I didn’t really want to be in her wedding. We were already having problems. I knew Pietro thought I was pushing him, even when I tried to give him room. But when you have to give a guy room, Anna, what does that say? He just plain doesn’t want to be there. He didn’t want to be HERE!” Her face was blotchy and streaked in tears. Ali came to the rescue with the damp cloth. Anna folded it in half and cleaned her face before pressing it to her lip.
“Paramedics are here,” she announced, finally less fretful and relieved to hear Ororo’s voice, weak though it was. At least she was coherent.
“Ya didn’t need Pietro if he was gonna mess around. Ya can’t help who ya are, or havin’ a problem with yer sugah, shoog.” Ali smiled, even though her eyes were damp when she saw her friends looking a blubbering mess. “Everyone’s got something ta deal with that makes life more challenging. Ya gotta take betta care of yerself, kiddo. Don’t make me hafta kick yer butt into shape.”
“I haven’t been hungry lately. I didn’t think about it. I haven’t been spending as much time at home. I hate coming home to an empty house,” she admitted. She heard the tread of footsteps coming through her hallway. Two young man entered in dark blue jumpsuits and navy parkas. A young woman followed with a small kit and wheeling an oxygen tank.
“We heard you took a little fall,” she remarked, nodding to the half-empty Tang glass. “Good, you got some fluids, boosted your glucose a little? That’s a nasty cut on your lip,” she winced.
“We’ll get outta the way, shoog,” Anna assured her.
“Not yet,” Ororo beckoned.
“Whaddya need, shoog?”
“I need you to dial Logan for me.”
~0~
Logan was tired. Shadows smudge his eyes and he had constant aches and pains from too many nights of too little sleep. He paced the ward restlessly, waiting for anyone to turn on their light. He’d already read the magazines at the nurse’s station until the Sports Illustrated issue was dog-eared.
It sucked to go home to his empty apartment. He’d worn a groove in the pavement up Ororo’s front walk. It was physically painful to stay away, even though he told himself it was for the best if she didn’t trust him.
He wanted to tell himself that it wasn’t her, ringing his phone and hanging up. Logan was stuck in the Bronze Age and still didn’t have a phone with caller ID, and his messages were blank. He craved her. He hated the chill at his back at night, instead of having her draped over him like a blanket, her breath stirring at his nape. He missed hearing her talk in her sleep. He’d grown so accustomed to little rituals he’d developed over the past few weeks: Keeping Kool-Aid in his cabinet and hard candies in his jacket pockets, eating meals that actually included “ gasp! “ vegetables, stocking his shower with bath gel and conditioner instead of plain bar soap and Head and Shoulders.
It chafed him. What they had was barely budding and new, raw, rough around the edges, and damned exciting, like riding a rollercoaster. He was terrified, but he couldn’t wait to see what was over the next slope, even if his stomach was lodged up where his heart was supposed to be.
Ororo had walked off with his heart, and wasn’t keen on giving it back. He sipped the last gulp of flat Pepsi and chucked the can into the recycle bin.
Logan felt a rush of cold air from the loading dock down the ramp. “Incoming!” he heard Nate shout from the break room, craning his neck as the ambulance opened its bay doors. Logan sighed, grateful and dismayed at his last peaceful moment of the night ending so quickly.
“Need me ta prep a suite?”
“Uh-uh, just an exam room,” one of the EMTs, Rory Campbell, informed him, tugging his end of the gurney. His partner on the night shift, Arthur, wheeled the IV pole beside it, so Logan’s view of the occupant was obscured until he approached. All he saw was a lean body draped in a blanket and a slender brown hand laying limply over the woman’s belly.
“What happened?”
“Diabetic seizure. She fell pretty hard. Her friends were visiting and found her upstairs in her room. She never answered the door, and she was expecting them, so thank God they got there when they did,” Art muttered.
“Yeah, no sh-“ Logan was robbed of speech, breath, and reason when he peered down into the face of the woman he loved. “RO?”
“Logan!” she exclaimed, and the waterworks started again. She dashed tears from her eyes from around the oxygen cannula strapped to her face. Her color finally looked less desperate, but her arm hurt from the IV of saline.
“I wanted ta see ya,” Logan choked, “but damn it, darlin’, this wasn’t how.”
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