2 comments/ 7353 views/ 1 favorites The Way Things Change Ch. 01 By: xstarxloverx A car alarm blared on the street outside my bedroom window. Drowsily, I woke, grabbing my alarm clock off the stand to check the time. 6:27. Perfect. I groaned as my head fell back onto the pillow. Get up. Don't be lazy, thought one half of my brain. The other half immediately responded: Just hit the snooze button once the alarm goes off. Thirteen more minutes of sleep, you'll still be able to get out there in time. Kicking the sheets off me, I groaned and rolled upright, grabbing for my glasses. *** I was greeted by a brisk breeze as I left the foyer of my apartment building. Early July in Boston is usually fairly warm and humid, but the city had been blessed with a cool spell as of late. Per usual, Becca was sitting on my steps waiting for me. "Twelve minutes? That's pretty quick for a Sunday morning." "I almost didn't get up, but the thought of not seeing your pretty face for two weeks got me out of bed," I teased her as she stood, swatting at me playfully. Without another word, we turned and headed down the street. Becca and I had been friends since high school. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. We had dated for most of high school, but had broken up once I left for college. A year behind me, Becca eventually went on her own way. Fate found us in the same city seven years later, her doing doctorate studies at Harvard Medical and me working full-time at a moving company, paying off my undergraduate loans while I rowed. It made sense: Becca had fallen in love with the city while an undergrad at Northeastern, and there are few better cities in the world for rowing than Boston. Meeting again after a breakup such as ours was an interesting experience. Through a mutual friend, she had found out that I was living in the city year-round, and after four years of no contact, I received a phone call from her, asking if I wanted to get lunch one afternoon. Since that Saturday, we saw each other pretty regularly, our weekly post-work lunches turning into our daily morning run. It was as if the separation we had endured was merely minutes instead of years, and our friendship picked up right from where we started. Our relationship, however, had to remain in the past. Becca had been dating a man named Paul for two years. We had met when she brought him along to lunch one day, and I knew he was a good man. I had no intention of stealing his girlfriend from him. Besides, I was living in the city, and there were plenty of beautiful women around. Or at least that was what I told myself. *** In silence, we headed down Massachusetts Avenue, enjoying the sights and sounds of a city rising to begin another day. For miles, we passed by shops and restaurants, where workers were mopping floors, setting up tables, and preparing breads and other baked goods. Accompanied only by the rhythm of our running shoes slapping the sidewalk simultaneously, we pushed the pace for each other. Thankfully, the sidewalk was uncrowded this early in the morning. When it narrowed due to a table or a handcart near an unloaded truck, I allowed Becca to take the lead. I had explained to her that she could set the pace because she was a better runner, and that was true. But most of my motivation in allowing her to lead was due to the fact that I wanted to enjoy the sight of her lithe, athletic body. She was small, maybe 5'3" at the most, but what she had was proportionally generous. Underneath those running shorts was a small, tight butt, with toned and tanned legs that just begged to be wrapped around a man's waist. Her brunette ponytail swished back and forth between her petite shoulders, hiding and revealing a graceful neck. I could remember how kissing her neck sometimes turned me on as much as kissing her lips, and how the feeling was mutual. *** At 8:30, we arrived back at my apartment steps. The sun had started to heat up the street, and we were both sweating and panting heavily. "Hour forty-five," she said as she looked at her watch. "We're getting slow." I was incredulous. "Slow?" I exclaimed. "I thought you wanted to finish the marathon, not die before it. That was the 13-mile route." "That's fine for training, I guess." We both knew that I was the reason she wasn't running any faster; I was never a good distance runner. Just finishing the 13 miles was good enough for me. "I guess," she said, kicking me lightly as if to say "you can do better than that." "Fine," I offered. "Next time you can run it without me, and I'm sure you'll finish it in under an hour-forty." "But then you wouldn't be working out on Sundays, and that would just be a waste." "Bully." "Jerk." "Come on, you want a cool-down smoothie?" I knew she couldn't resist my smoothies, and of course, her eyes lit up and she nodded like a little child. I laughed at her innocent look as I fished my key out of the side of my sneaker and unlocked the door. *** "What'll it be, missy?" I asked her as she flopped down on the couch in the living room. "Whaddya got?" she asked me. I looked through the hole over the counter into the living room. Her eyes were closed and her tank top had ridden up her torso, exposing her midriff. I stared, hypnotized, watching the revealed patch of skin on her stomach rise and fall with her breath. Suddenly, her eyes fluttered open. Flustered, I made like I was looking for something in the shelf above my head. "I'll make up anything your heart desires, milady." "Make it alcoholic, then," she asked with the hint of a joke in her voice. "Hmm...I'm in a banana mood this morning, I think." I threw a few bananas and some other ingredients into a blender and hit the puree button. A minute later, I brought out two glasses and handed one to her as she slid up to make room for me on the couch. "Good?" I asked as she took a sip. I waited like a nervous chef for her to take the first taste. "Umm, not really. I think I'm going to have to send it back," she said as she took another swallow and winked at me. She held up her glass to me, and we clinked rims, celebrating another good Sunday morning run. We sat in silence again, savoring the gentle soreness of a good workout. Out of the corner of my eyes, I stole the occasional glance at her beautiful face, hiding any evidence of my arousal with a cool glass of banana smoothie. Her legs were crossed under her as she leaned against the armrest. With her free hand, she was toying with a piece of the sole that was coming loose, and I knew she was thinking of something. Time to take the direct approach, I thought as I put my glass down on the coffee table in front of us and looked directly at her. "What's on your mind?" "Huh?" Her head snapped up, a look of confusion on her face. "You were kind of quiet out there this morning. I felt a little lonely." She chuckled; we never talked during our runs unless one of us was injured. "I was just thinking." "Never too late to start," I teased as she swatted at me for the thousandth time. "Well, was there something specific you were thinking about, or was it just to make sure your brain was still working?" Her head snapped up again, her eyes locking on to mine. "Why did we break up back in high school?" That was unexpected. "Is this what you were thinking about?" "Yes. Damien, we've been going on these morning runs for three months now. It's been four since we had lunch that day." I knew she was getting to something, but I wasn't sure what, so I kept my mouth shut and nodded to her to continue. "It feels like I we never even spent any time apart, like we've been friends for those four years since I last saw you. I had such anger in me for a long time, hating you for walking away, but now I see you once, and it all goes away and all I want is to be your friend again. We were good together. Look at us, we're still good together! Why did you have to walk away from it?" I had no idea that she felt like that, although I probably should have assumed she would have felt like this. I sure did. "Do you want my honest answer?" She nodded. As if she'd want me to lie to her. I took a deep breath and started talking. "I was terrified that week before I left for school. You're right, that summer was probably one of the best times of my life, and I don't regret it at all. But I kept looking towards the future with us together, and I got scared, not knowing what dating any other woman was like, what being with any other woman would be like. I didn't want to make you wait, and I didn't want to wait for you to get out of high school, so I left. Besides, I knew you wouldn't have been happy in New York. I knew your heart was already here." "But I could have been happy. If we had been there together..." She trailed off, her gaze falling back towards her tattered sole. More to fill the silence than anything else, I asked her, "How long has that been on the tip of your tongue?" Not lifting her head, she answered. "Four months." I leaned back and clasped my hands behind my head, my relaxed posture belying my inner feelings. My stomach was wound like a watch spring; the tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. After an interminable pause, Becca stood. "I have to go. Thanks for the drink." Ah, classic parting words, although the aforementioned drink is usually something stronger than a smoothie. "Wait," I called after her as I rose to say goodbye. "Will I see you tomorrow?" "I'll be there," she said over her shoulder as she closed the door. I knelt on the couch, watching out the window to catch her run from my building for the long trip back over the Charles to her apartment. She left my building, rounded the corner, and disappeared. I sat on the couch for a second before I realized that my hands were clenched into fists down in my lap. I grabbed my key from the counter and left my building again, my sneakers slapping against the pavement as I went in the opposite direction. *** Like she had promised, she was waiting for me on the steps of my building Monday morning. Without a word, we ran until we reached the boathouse on the Charles where I rowed. While I stopped to enter the building, Becca didn't even slow down; she continued on as if we were two strangers who just happened to be running in the same direction. This continued as the week progressed, our morning run not even broken up by words of parting. Perversely, I found myself leaving my building earlier each morning. Part of me wanted to get the awkward greeting over with and start the run, while part of me wanted to see whether things would be different that morning and she would address me. Finally, on Sunday, a week after our conversation, I awoke at quarter after six. Instead of rolling back over and trying to eke out a few more minutes of rest, I immediately got out of bed and threw on my running shoes. The front steps were vacant. I had beaten her; this hadn't happened before in the three months we had been running together. I sat down to await her arrival. It wasn't a long wait. Minutes after I sat down, she rounded the corner. A look of surprise crossed her face for a fleeting moment before the mask of indifference fell back over her eyes. She wasn't expecting it, either. But I wasn't really expecting her reaction. She didn't even turn to look at me as she passed; instead, she kept running at the same pace she came around the corner at. Shocked, I sat there just watching her for a second, unsure of what to do. "Wait, Becca, wait!" I called after her as I shook off my stupor and chased her down. She slowed and began to turn back towards me as I sprinted the 20 feet or so she had run from me. When I reached her, I took her hands in mine and looked her square in the eyes. There were so many things I wanted to tell her; so many thoughts had run through my head in the past week. Emotions swirled through my mind, but there was only one thought that stood out, that kept coming back to me. So I said it. "I'm sorry." I'm sorry, Becca. I'm sorry for all the hurt I caused you. I'm sorry I wasn't a stronger man. I'm sorry that I threw away what was probably one of the best things to ever happen to me. I'm sorry that even now, I still have the power only to hurt you. For that, and for a million reasons more, I'm sorry. None of those words crossed my lips, but I could tell by the way that her gaze softened that she could see right through my words to understand what I was really trying to say. She didn't respond for a few moments, but I could see her lips moving, silently mouthing words while simultaneously trying to hold back tears. "What?" I barely whispered the word as I took a step towards her. I wanted to know if I had ruined our friendship or saved it. I still couldn't hear her words, though, and I took another step forward. This brought my face within inches of hers, and I could begin to hear her whispers. A single tear rolled down her cheek as I finally made out the words she was barely breathing out loud: "Thank you." All at once, her mouth stopped moving as she bit her bottom lip. I think we both became aware of how close our faces were at the same moment. I was still holding on to her hands. Time seemed to stand still while my heartbeat pounded in my ears, quickened by my tiny sprint and the tension of anticipating her reaction. Seemingly with a mind of their own, my hands gently tugged on hers, pulling her body closer to mine. Our eyes never breaking their gaze, our lips brushed tentatively against each other. As soon as I felt that she wouldn't push me away, however, I brought my hands to the run my fingers through her hair as I drew her face close to mine. She responded immediately, her mouth hungrily opening, her tongue darting out in search of mine. Her hands wrapped around my waist as our kiss deepened. Our bodies melted into one another, and I was at once made acutely aware of her small, firm breasts pressing into my chest as she squeezed tighter. Sensations from another lifetime flooded back. I had just crossed over to a place that I thought I would never -- could never -- return to. The taste of her lips, the light pressure of her arms around my waist -- the physical feelings of a highly emotional relationship came back just as easily as the memories of all the places we had been together. But I wanted more. I wanted to take her upstairs and feel every curve of her body, everything insider her, and I wanted her to feel me, too. I could tell it was what we both wanted as we continued making out in the middle of the sidewalk early on a Sunday morning. Deep down within, I wanted her more than anything, but I knew that it wasn't going to happen. She had Paul, probably waiting in a bed they shared for her to return back from her run. And I liked Paul. We got on well. Finally, we broke away from our kiss. We were still looking directly into each other's eyes. I didn't know what to say. Becca was the first to break the silence. "So what do we do now?" *** We banged through the door in a flurry of lips and arms. Our tongues hungrily searched each other out as I kicked the door closed behind me and pushed Becca against it. She moaned as my lips found her neck, that graceful neck that I longed to kiss every time I ran behind her. With one hand, I pinned her wrists over her head, while with the other one, I struggled to remove her tight sports bra. Pulling it over her head, her perky breasts fell free, the nipples hard. My hands immediately attached themselves to her breasts, massaging and pinching while my mouth continued assaulting her neck. There was no discussion between the street and my room. She had grabbed my wrist and led me towards my building. I followed her without a word, my moral dilemma silenced by biological need. Our bodies locked together in a frantic, shifting embrace, we pushed ourselves away from the entrance of my apartment and towards the center of the living room, any place large enough to contain two writhing, thrusting bodies. Reaching the couch, I felt a violent need to fuck her that I had never felt towards any other woman before. The taboos associated with having sex with an attached ex-girlfriend, combined with the adrenaline surging through my system unleashed an animalistic lust inside my body that I could only viciously pound out on both of our bodies. Roughly, I spun her around in my arms, pushed her over the arm of the couch, and pulled her tight shorts down her legs. They pooled together at her ankles, trapping her legs close together. Without hesitation, I pulled my seven-inch penis out of my own shorts where it had been bound by lycra and thrust it inside of her, my hips slamming against her buttocks with an audible "slap". She groaned, a deep, guttural moan that seemed to be forced out of her lungs from my thrust. Her pussy felt so good, so warm and tight. I had never had sex without a condom before, but I don't think anything could've gotten me to use one at this point. Matching my thrust, I pulled out fast, then thrust myself against her bent-over body again. Immediately, she started thrusting back at me, her body moving in time to match my thrusts. The only sounds ini the apartment were our bodies rhythmically hitting each other and our labored breathing and moaning. I reached underneath her, and with my left hand rolled her left breast in my palm, pinching the nipple. With my right hand, I reached down between her legs and found her clit. She shrieked when I touched her, and I involuntarily gasped as her pussy tightened around my cock. I could feel myself thrusting into her as my fingers played between her wet folds. Within minutes, she was moaning and gasping nonsensical syllables and her head lay on the cushions of the couch. Her eyes were closed and her face crinkled together in ecstasy. After only a few minutes of this position, I could feel her body begin to tense up and hear her breathing quicken. I knew she was going to come, so I increased the speed of my thrusts and my fingers. Abruptly, she stopped moving back against me, and her body went rigid. She wasn't a loud girl in bed, so I could only tell she had orgasmed when she relaxed, leaned against me and sighed with satisfaction. I wanted to feel the same kind of relief that she was, but my rock-hard penis told a different tale. I grasped it and began masturbating when I pulled out of her. Blindly, she reached back, still bent over the couch. "No, stop that," she said, resting her hand on my cock. "I'll take care of that in a second. Just let me catch my breath." I sat down on the couch as she recovered her composure. I kept stroking my cock, letting my eyes devour her perfect, nude form. Her hair was down over her face, her hair tie lost somewhere in the past few minutes of frantic sex. Following it downward, her round, tight ass stuck out at an obscene angle, topping off the sexiest pair of legs ever put onto a woman. She was still wearing her running sneakers, with her socks sticking out slightly over the tops. Somehow, that seemed even naughtier than if she had been completely naked. Slowly, she drew herself back up until her chest was level with my eyes. Now that was a fortunate coincidence. Without a word, she knelt down between my legs, tucking the hair on the right side of her face back behind her ear, her eyes never leaving my penis. Then she took me in her mouth. My mind went blank, my head rolled back, and all I could feel was her hot mouth around my shaft. One hand went to fondle my balls while the other followed the path of her mouth. I moaned in pleasure, running my hands through her hair. Her tongue danced over my head, caressing it with wet licks. Her mouth felt so good, but I didn't truly lose control until I looked down. Her emerald green eyes were looking back at me as she sucked my cock. This sweet young woman, who I last saw as a sweet young girl, was watching me as she sucked my dick, right after the most lust-filled sex I had ever had. The feelings running through me, combined with the feeling of her mouth and tongue on my shaft were just too much. My hands balled up into fists, gently pulling at her hair. She increased the speed and intensity of her motions, and I couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry, I emptied the sexual frustration she had been the cause of over the past four months into her mouth. The Way Things Change Ch. 02 The whole arc for this story has been in my head since I wrote the first chapter, but it took me many hours to put it into words that are readable. If I had known how long it was going to take me to write this, I would've published both chapters together. In any case, I hope you enjoy. *** The sun glittered off the surface of the Charles River as it rose behind us. A faint breeze blew across the open expanse of water; just enough to cool, but not enough to toss us around across the surface like a cork. Gasping for breath, I gulped down the remaining amount of water in the bottle I had brought with me. My heart was still hammering in my chest from that last piece, but I could feel it slowly coming down. My partner, sitting behind me, spoke to my naked back: "Let's get going." "Right," I replied. I put my water bottle in the space behind the foot stretchers, clutched the handles of my oars, and sat ready to row. My partner, John, did the same. With a spoken command, our blades dug into the water and we rowed our double scull away from the direction we were facing, back towards the dock. As we neared the dock, I stopped rowing and allowed John to control our boat. He spoke again before he started rowing. "Looks like you have some company, Murph." I turned to look behind us. Sure enough, Becca stood on the boardwalk near the boathouse, leaning against the railing. Her knee-length skirt swayed in the light breeze. Quickly, I averted my eyes, hoping futilely she hadn't noticed me looking directly at her. Although she had never shown up at practice before, I wasn't really surprised to see her. After that one furious, passion-filled afternoon over a month ago, she had disappeared from my life as quickly as she had appeared in it. No runs, no phone calls, nothing. I didn't bother trying to call her. I suppose on one level, I didn't want to make her boyfriend, Paul, suspicious. I couldn't quite admit to myself that the other reason was that I didn't want to know how she felt about me, that maybe this torture was earned after the way I had treated her when we first broke up. The truth was, I had hoped ever since that Sunday she would show up and come back into my life. I couldn't stop thinking about her. I missed her. I wanted her. Our encounter, and the daily runs leading up to them, made me feel better than I had in a very long time. After she had dressed and left my apartment, I couldn't keep myself from fantasizing about her: she would leave Paul, she would come back to me, we'd move in together and live happy, comfortable, conjoined lives. Almost immediately, however, reality set in. I wasn't comfortable being the other guy, and I was sure at least half the reason Becca didn't talk to me was because of the guilt she felt. Seconds later, we landed at the dock. I put a hand out to keep the gunwale from banging into the dock and stood awkwardly, stepping out of the fragile shell. John followed suit, and as we went about the post-practice ritual of carrying the oars and the boat back up to the boathouse, I studiously focused on the task at hand and ignored her. Doing so, however, was as difficult as trying to avoid watching the sun rise. I was nervous. I figured she was here to yell at me, or tell me she never wanted to talk to me again, that she couldn't talk to me again. Despite the fact that neither of us seemed to be at fault more than the other, I was burdened with the guilt of the other man and the knowledge that I should have been able to keep my hands off of her. I also didn't want to have to restrain myself again, especially seeing her looking as beautiful as she was. Finally, all our equipment was back in the boathouse. John and I were coached in the morning, but were left to our own devices for the afternoon practices, so I was able to dash up the stairs and change from my sweaty spandex shorts into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I took a long time changing, putting deodorant on and tying my shoes in far too meticulous a manner than was necessary. John came up as I was finishing my avoidance ritual. "You going to go down there and talk to her?" he asked as he started towards the shower. We had been friends since we rowed together in college, and he knew most of the story. I knew he didn't exactly approve, but neither did I. At least he was enough of a gentleman to keep from completely tearing me apart for my indiscretion. "I guess I have to. I doubt she came down to the river just to watch us row." I was facing away from him, but I knew he wasn't looking at me for my reply. "Murph?" I turned to look at him. He had stopped, but he was still looking away. "Don't do anything stupid." *** I flew back down the stairwell, finally deciding that there was no more use in delaying the inevitable. I went out the garage doors leading to the dock, and saw her, looking out towards the water, still leaning against the rail. Of course, from this angle, I was also able to see her perfect ass pointing in my direction, just begging to be caressed. Looking at it, I almost lost my cool and ran back into the boathouse to wait until she had left. Of course, at that moment, she turned to face me. "Hi," she said as I walked towards her. She had a smile on her face, but I couldn't tell if she was just being polite, or if she was happy to see me. "Hi," I replied, hands jammed deeply into my pockets. I wasn't sure how to approach the situation. For one, I was sure I smelt disgusting, and two, I wasn't sure how much she really wanted to be there. I decided to refrain from touching her, no matter how much I wanted to do otherwise. "Are you heading home? I have to head back to campus to study, but I figured I could take a few minutes to walk and talk." "Yeah, I had no plans for anything after practice. I have some leftovers in the fridge, if you want something to eat." I still couldn't look at her yet. She didn't respond to my offer, and we headed back towards my apartment. "So. What's up?" I asked. "Well," she started out slowly, finding the words that she seemed to have practiced numerous times before. "I wanted to explain to you why I haven't been around to go running for a while." She paused, and I could tell that she was trying to figure out how to proceed. "Damien, you don't have to be scared. You haven't looked at me once yet." I turned to look at her, and she smiled at me again. This time, it was a genuine smile. She rubbed my arm and squeezed it before she continued. "After...that afternoon, I needed to figure some things out. Paul was out of town for a few days, and I didn't do anything other than go to class and sit in my apartment and think. And cry, if we're being honest." I shot a concerned look in her direction before directing my gaze straight ahead again. "I couldn't stop beating myself up for what had happened. And I know you, too. You probably couldn't stop kicking yourself for making a move." Of course, she was right, but I wasn't going to admit it. "So what did you come up with?" I asked her, mostly to reassure myself that I was still able to carry a conversation. I was looking at her again, but I was still nervous. "The most important thing I decided was that I had to tell Paul. So, when he got back from his trip, I did," she said in a voice devoid of any emotion. "How did he take it?" I was back to straight-ahead laser vision. I didn't want to see the expression on her face that matched that tone. "He was upset, to say the least. There were things thrown, words were said. I don't want to get into the specifics. But, bottom line is, Paul moved his stuff out, and I haven't talked to him since. That was two weeks ago." I didn't know how to react to that. "I'm sorry" didn't seem like the appropriate thing to say, considering that those were the words that had gotten us into this whole mess. Fumbling through the silence, I asked her, "So how are you taking it?" "Surprisingly well, actually," she said, life coming into her voice again. "Paul was a good guy, and he was a good boyfriend. But I've never been the kind of girl to cheat before, and I realized that if I had wanted to be faithful to him, I would've been." "Oh?" Again, my mind locked up, and I couldn't find the words to ask her what I really wanted to ask. "Oh yes. I didn't hop into bed with you just because you have some kind of irresistible sex appeal," she laughed, and I joined in. Finally, I felt myself loosening up a little. "Even though I do find you very, very sexy." "Well, that makes one of us," I joked. "I probably look as awful as I smell," I said, sniffing myself with a grimace on my face. She giggled, and punched my arm. I felt the old familiar friendliness returning between us, and I took my hands out of my pocket and swatted her hand away. Instead of letting it come to rest at her side, she grabbed onto my fingers. We held hands the rest of the silent walk to my apartment. "So what does this mean?" I asked her as we reached the steps outside my place. "It means two things," she said. "One, I'm now single. And two, I don't want to be." She put a finger on my chest as I moved in to hug her. She held my hands as she looked into my eyes. "But one afternoon of sex doesn't mean we're dating again. You broke my heart when you left me for college. Now you have to earn it back." I nodded earnestly; I wanted nothing more than to do just that. "What are you doing tomorrow night? Let's get some dinner and I can..." She stopped me with the shake of her head. "I can't at all this week. I have two exams and a paper due before Friday. I don't have any free time until this weekend." "That's fine," I replied, nonplussed. "That just gives me more time to plan." I brought her hands together and kissed them as I walked away. "Go study and do well on your tests. I don't want you to be in anything but the best mood for our date this weekend." She smiled at me as she turned to catch her train back to Cambridge. I watched her walk away. For the second time that afternoon, my mouth was dry and my heart was racing. Already, I was nervous. I had lost her once, and though fate had granted me a second chance, I couldn't afford to blow it. I knew virtually nothing about the Boston nightlife, let alone the type of places to take someone on a romantic date. The gears were spinning, however, and I was already generating a plan of attack. *** After a long and tiresome week, Saturday finally arrived. I had been rushing around all week, going between work and practice and the dry-cleaners, making reservations and figuring out how the hell I was going to pay for all of it. I walked up to Becca's apartment at 6 o'clock sharp. I was planning on hailing a cab once she was ready to go, but for my own purposes, I had taken the bus and walked to her building. I fidgeted uncomfortably in my slacks. Not having had a need to dress up recently, I was unused to wearing anything other than shorts and sneakers, or work pants and boots. The collar of my button-down shirt felt like it was choking me, even with the top button open. At least I had had the good sense to carry my sports coat over my shoulder until arriving at her apartment. Nervously, I pressed the button next to her name on the call box. I waited for a handful of seconds before I heard a staticky "Hello?" from the box speaker. "Uh...hi, Becca...it's me. Damien." I wanted to kick myself for being so obvious and nervous. "Hi Damien! I'm almost ready. Do you want me to buzz you in?" "No, it's fine, I'll wait for you here," I replied. "It's, uh...nice enough out." "Okay, I"ll be down in a minute." I sat on the brownstone steps leading up to her door, unconsciously wiping my hands on my thighs. Shit! I looked down, and sure enough, there were handprints from my clammy hands. I stood up, trying to rub out the dark spots. I didn't even notice the door to the building had opened until I heard a giggle. I looked back to the doorway, and there she was. I was so shocked by her appearance I forgot about the handprints for the briefest of moments, standing there with my mouth slightly agape before remembering to hold my jacket in front of me. She giggled again. "So I did all right?" she asked me shyly. I had told her to dress nicely, and she hadn't disappointed. Her long brown hair was swept back into a loose bun, held together by a hair clip with a small red flower on top. A few strands fell towards her neck, upon which a small string of pearls rested. A burgundy dress with short sleeves covering her shoulders clung to her curves, cinched at the waist with a matching belt. A line of buttons ended just below the swell of her breasts. Never being one for makeup, I was surprised to see she was wearing red lipstick in the same shade as the flower in her hair. Topping it all off was a pair of pointy black stilettos, easily making her at least three inches taller. Standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at her, I felt like I was the short one. She was stunning, an absolute dream. Finally gathering my wits about me, I cleared my throat. "You look beautiful." She blushed at my comment, looking away in embarrassment. The combination of sensuality and timidity was as alluring to me as it had been all those years before. For a moment, I remembered how I had felt when I was 16, pulling up to her house in my beat-up car, a half-wilting bouquet of flowers in my hands as I decided I had finally had enough - I wanted to be more than friends with this beautiful girl. While I was still the awkward, gangly guy I had been all those years before, the girl had been replaced with a woman I hadn't really allowed myself to see fully before this moment. I offered her my hand. "Well, shall we? We have a full evening ahead of us." She walked down the steps, her fingers interweaving between mine as we walked up the street, to the corner. I hailed a cab and helped her in, and we headed back over the river to Boston. *** For dinner, I had made reservations at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant in the North End. I had never been there, but all of the reviews I had found said the place was top-notch. What they failed to mention was the fact that in order to accommodate the large crowd it served, the restaurant had to jam tables in so tight the waitresses could barely move in between them. This was how we managed to find ourselves packed in practically on top of each other as we ate our dinner. Despite the "cozy" atmosphere, the food was excellent, as was the bottle of wine we shared. We talked, her about her summer clinical and the extra work she was doing to get ready for the approaching fall semester. I talked with her mostly about rowing and training, how I had teamed up with John, and the work we were doing to get ready for the Head of the Charles in October. Even before the wine came, the conversation flowed easily, freely. I found myself mesmerized by little things she did, things that I remembered from what felt like a lifetime ago, like the way she absentmindedly tucked stray hairs around her face behind her ear, or the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed. The time passed quickly, and before I knew it, our dinner had been eaten and cleared, and we were sharing a small dish of gelato. Her free hand was resting on the table, and I reached across to touch her hand. She looked up at me, stopping mid-sentence, her green eyes wide and full of promise. Her fingers played with mine, and for a moment, the other diners at the tables around us disappeared. Again, that blush spread across her cheeks, and she looked down at the bowl in front of us. As we were waiting for the check, I asked her how I was doing. She leaned in to me, her chin resting on her hand. "You're doing fine. So where to next, Romeo?" "I have the whole evening planned out," I chuckled. "Don't you worry." "Oh, I'm not worried," she replied. "I'm sure I can handle anything that comes my way." I couldn't tell if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard a subtle emphasis on one of the words. Just then, I felt her foot brush my calf. The entire dinner, we kept kicking each other as we tried to find space under the table, but this was different. Her foot stayed in contact with my leg. She had slipped her shoe off; I could feel her wiggling her big toe as it traveled up towards my knee. The waitress came back with the check. Without stopping her foot's exploration, she took the check and turned to the waitress. "Thank you, the meal was excellent." Underneath the tablecloth, I was getting fairly hot. I could feel myself beginning to harden, creating a noticeable bulge in my pants. But without showing a hint of my distress, I smoothly snatched the check from her and pulled my wallet out of my pocket. "Yes, thank you for everything." "Surely. I hope you two have a good evening," said the waitress, smiling. "Oh, we will," I said in my best Don Juan accent, not even realizing the words that were coming out of my mouth. By this time, Becca's foot had slid up past my knee and towards my now-erect penis. At these words, she stroked me from the base of my cock to the tip with the ball of her foot. I jumped slightly, passing off the movement as returning my wallet to my pocket. I handed the cash to the waitress. "Shall we go, dear?" asked Becca. Inwardly, I grimaced. Damn tease. "Of course," I said, quickly grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair and placing it over my lap again. Apparently, I wasn't quick enough, because as Becca turned toward the door, the waitress gave me a look and cocked an eyebrow in my direction. I grinned sheepishly and followed Becca out to the sidewalk. *** We walked through the North End for a bit, getting desert at one of the bakeries. Thankfully, it also game me time to let my erection subside. Becca kept playfully trying to grab the hand I was holding my coat in, making sure her hand lingered over my crotch. I didn't know what had gotten into her, but I wasn't going to question it, even if this was all taking place on a narrow, crowded sidewalk. Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. When she reached for my hand again, I took it and spun her around towards me, bending down and pressing my lips to hers in one quick motion. Her eyes were open wide, but as we sank further into the kiss, her eyelids started to droop, and her hands clutched at my shirt, pulling our bodies close. Her hands were in the way of my chest and her breasts, but I pressed my hips into hers, making sure she felt the result of the teasing I had thus far endured. I don't know how we got there, but we ended up against the wall of an apartment building, her back pressing into the stones. Her arms wrapped around my neck, and I put my hands on her waist, pulling her close. We broke off the kiss, both of us panting slightly. I rested my chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her. She leaned against the wall, one leg stretched out, supporting her, and the other foot against the wall, forcing her hips out. I don't think either of us realized it, but she had spread her legs slightly, and I was pressing at the hem of her dress, stretching the material between her thighs. She kissed my neck. "So...where are we headed next?" I kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo. "It's a surprise. I don't want to ruin it for you." She slapped at my chest again, and I pulled away slightly. "Tell me!" she huffed like a child on Christmas Eve. In response, I stepped back and pulled her away from the wall. "Let's catch a cab," I said, noticing the stares of a few bystanders who had witnessed our passionate kiss. The women looked at us sternly, especially one mother with holding the hand of a gaping little boy, while the guys looked mostly at Becca with lust and me with envy. Knowing that my beautiful date was an object of desire to these guys did nothing to cool my ardor, and we moved a little quicker to one of the main streets in order to track down a cab.