11 comments/ 165203 views/ 26 favorites Morning Wood Ch. 01 By: jackredd "This a story about obsession. With over a year in the making, and true to its subject, almost everything is different from what it was in the beginning. Much like the characters, we obsessed over the details, from blueprints of rooms, to exactly how long a Futurama rerun lasts, to a two day long discussion over the appropriate use of shoes vs sneakers. Our obsession was so great that at times we lost sight of the big picture, bogging down on the details. Scenes were replaced, names were changed, characters were deleted, focuses were shifted. The somewhat polished result is what follows and I'm proud to say that although everything is different, the big picture stays the same. To the reader, in defiance of obsession, instead of focusing on what could have been take it for what it is, a story about a person's obsession for another and the aftermath of their actions. -H.M" Chapter 01: Morning Ritual Art woke as he did most days, too early and with an erection that wouldn't quit. His routine continued as he slid from bed and headed out of his room. Reaching down, he gave his morning buddy a few tugs; rubbing at the head with his palm as he walked down the stairs and into his kitchen. Moving to the window over his sink, he glanced out at his neighbor who was playing out her own morning routine. Art's window looked down into the first floor bathroom of her town house. Though the window was frosted , it opened at the top with an angle that allowed him to see right into the shower. Just like most weekday mornings Sylvia was getting ready for school. He leaned closer, his hand beginning to slide slowly up and down the length of his cock, watching as she lathered her nubile flesh. Art spun around as somebody cleared their throat behind him, hand still resting on his engorged cock. The sound had come from his younger sister. He had forgotten that she had shown up drunk around two that morning and he had let her sleep it off in his spare room. "Guinne," his voice cracked slightly as he spoke, something it had not done in a very long time. He grabbed a towel from the oven rack and covered himself in a vain attempt at decency. "I forgot you were here. I'm sorry, I'll get out of here," his cheeks darkened to a deep red, reminiscent of the inside of a watermelon. Guinne laughed at him, a rich and pleasant sound. Her thick lips formed a luscious smile as she looked at her brother. One hand on each hip was causing the baby-doll t-shirt she wore to hike up a little and reveal a pale stomach. The soft peach fuzz on her stomach caught Art's eye for only a moment before the small purple gem in her belly button ring glinted. "Oh my, Art. Do you always wander around in the morning jerking off," She went onto her tip toes to peer over his shoulder and out the window, but couldn't see past him. "Or do you save that for when your baby sis is over to spot you?" She slid forward, leaning against him to look out the window at Sylvia . "You dirty, dirty old man," She was grinning as she spoke, thinking about how she sometimes played soccer with Sylvia when she visited her brother. "Spying?" Little did she know that her brother spent almost every morning jerking off to the beautiful young neighbor girl. Art barely heard her. He couldn't move, it was like time had frozen him in disbelief. Guinne's knee was pressed against his inner thigh, her grey panties rubbed his bare hip. The pressure of her handful-sized tits against the side of his chest caused his dick to throb with her proximity and the heady scent of her body. He had fantasized about his younger sister when they were both still living with their mother, but that had been long ago. Art had watched her blossom into a young woman, growing from a boyish child into a delectable young lady. Guinne was that special kind of voluptuous and sexy woman that caught many eyes. She had wide hips and a rounded peach of a backside which curved into a waist that dipped just right. He had always had a thing for girls with a little extra padding but it wasn't until now - with his sister leaning against him - that he had considered the source of that attraction. "Earth to Arthur," Guinne had stepped back, no longer pressing so pleasantly to his naked body. "Anyone home in there?" She waved her hand before his eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled, casting a pleading look at his sister. "Uhm, can we just pretend this never happened?" She was blocking his path to the kitchen door - to safety - and his mind was trying desperately to figure out how to get past her. "Pretend you don't spy on your neighbor in the shower and wank?" Guinne raised an eyebrow at him, trying to look serious, but with the faint signs of a smirk showing on the edges of her lips. "Or pretend that I'm not making your cock even harder?" "What? Guinne, can you at least move so I can get something more than a kitchen towel to cover up with?" He spoke with a mixture of anger, sarcasm and shame, "This is a bit embarrassing, you know." Unbudging, she grabbed the towel from his hands revealing his still very hard cock. "You mean this?" She smirked, holding it up. Art reached for the towel but she flicked her wrist back and it landed on the chair behind her. His hands dropped in an attempt to cover his once again growing erection. "What the hell, Guinne?" He moved to push past her, though deep inside he hoped she wouldn't let him, hoped she would continue on this path and act out some dirty fantasy of his. Guinne reached out, pushing him back up against the counter, her body weighing against his. She could feel his naked cock against the flesh of her stomach, jerking with arousal at his sister's aggressive move. "What do you think you're doing? Let me go," he tried to sound firm, as if he genuinely wanted her to move but there was doubt in his voice, hesitation. Guinne saw her desire mirrored in her brother's almond-colored eyes. Ever since she had discovered her brother's morning routine she had wanted him and had fantasized about how to get herself involved. -- Long before she knew of the taboos that surrounded incest, Guinne had started watching Art. As her first exposure to sex he had become the focus of her drive. Although she had dated men in high school and college and experimented with her sexuality, every morning she still thought of her brother's hard dick being stroked in his hand and had always fantasized about him when she was with other partners. Here stood the focus of all her fantasies, the throbbing member that had filled her mind each time she had played with herself, the face that had filled her vision even when another man had slid himself into her. "What the hell do I think I'm doing?" Guinne responded, a coy grin sliding across her lips. "I'm rubbing up against your beautiful cock, Art. I'm pressing it against my stomach and letting you feel my soft skin. I'm trying to have my way with you." Her voice was growing husky as she spoke, and she could feel the warmth between her own legs increasing in its intensity. Art swallowed thickly at her words. What the hell had gotten into his little sister? "You can't do that, Guinne, you're my sister," the words forced out, knowing that it was the truth, that she had to stop. He wanted her to keep going though, to do more than just press her stomach to him. "It shouldn't matter," her hand slid between them, grasping his erection lightly in her hand, just holding onto it, feeling its warmth, feeling the cock she wanted so bad. It was hot to the touch, thick and firm in her hand; not porn star long, but more than enough to enjoy. It felt amazing in her grasp; better than she had ever imagined it would feel. It made the wetness between her legs almost unbearable, her panties becoming soaked, causing her juices to drip down her thigh. "I want you, Art, I've always wanted you. I want this thick hard cock in my hands. I want to wrap my lips around it, I want to feel it deep inside of me, I just want it." Art hadn't pulled away, he could have, she wasn't holding onto him that tightly. She blocked his path out of the kitchen, but he could have moved to the side to get away from her, or just pushed his way past her. Guinne knew he wasn't going to run, knew that he wanted this too, and so, slowly, her fingers began to slide along his length, rubbing his precum into his erection. Her eyes peered over his shoulder, spotting Sylvia getting out of the shower now, her perky little tits wet. "Guinne," Art whimpered; his tone half protest, half plea. "We can't do this," but he was still there, not pulling away, not pushing her aside. Her hand began to move a little more firmly along his length, stroking along it, turning and rubbing the head into her palm. Fingernails scraped along the sides. She had watched him please himself for years; she knew just how he liked it. His eyes were half lidded, perhaps surrendering to her, perhaps to himself. Her fingers continued to stroke his length, her other hand dropping down to gently cup his balls; a finger sliding down to rub at that spot beneath them that she knew he liked to touch. She wanted more, she wanted to feel him in her, but she sensed that it was not yet time to press her brother any farther than this hand job. So with an expertise gained from years of observation, and some practice as well, she brought him to orgasm. He moaned out as she jerked him a few last times, his back arching as his juices spurted out, long strings of cum sprayed her stomach and hand. She moaned softly at the feel of it splattering onto her bare stomach; the warm liquid nearly driving her into ecstasy as well. His body shuddered faintly as she continued to gently stroke his cock, feeling it slowly deflate. Then she released it and lifted her hand, bringing it to her lips, finally able to taste her brother's seed. She closed her eyes as she licked the juices from her fingers. She had discovered in her adventures that she loved the taste of cum, and perhaps it was the long wait, or just something about his flavor, but she swore it was the best she had ever had the pleasure to eat. She greedily licked every drop from her fingers, and then turned her eyes south looking for more. Her fingers moved over his cock, scooping up what she had spread there and then gathered the strands that had fallen on her shirt and boy cut panties. Art watched her, his eyes still half closed, as she committed this lurid act. He had never seen an actual woman eat cum like that and it almost stirred him again, but he forced the thought away. His mind protested what had happened as bad and wrong, but also embraced it as good and oh-so-amazing. He looked down at his now limp cock and then up into Guinne's eyes; she was licking the last traces of his juices from her fingers still. It was unreal, women in porn pretended to like cum, but his sister so obviously did. Most of the women who had given him blow jobs had either acted like it was gross and spit it out, or just swallowed like they were 'supposed to'. Realization of what had just happened seemed to finally sink into his head and he pushed past his sister, moving rapidly away from her to the stairs, dashing up them. He threw open the bathroom door and slammed it behind him, not thinking to lock it as he turned the shower on. He turned it up until the whole bathroom began to fill with steam, throwing a glance at the fogging mirror, who was this man before him? This man that had let this happen? Art climbed under the spray. It hurt, turning his skin pink with the heat, but he barely noticed. He scrubbed himself, but it didn't help, he didn't feel any cleaner. He knew inside that nothing would clean away what he had let his sister do. Nothing could clean away breaking one of the oldest taboos. He should have stopped her; should have ran. But he had not, he had just stood there, had let his little sister jerk him off. He leaned against the shower wall and then slowly slid to the floor. He pulled his legs up against his chest, and rested his head on his knees. Hugging himself, confused, and feeling a little violated but also desiring more. Guinne had watched him run off, hearing the bathroom door slam shut, the water turning on; washing away what she had done, probably. She cringed, had this all been wrong? Her fingers were still in her mouth, the taste of his juices still lingered on her tongue, and while she thought that perhaps she ought to chase him down and talk to him, she couldn't do it like this. All she'd be thinking of was the wetness between her legs, so she headed out of the kitchen as well and soon was dropping onto her brother's guest bed. She pushed her grey panties down and kicked them off onto the floor, they were nearly black from the moisture her body had produced. She bit her lip as her fingers slid down her stomach. Images of her brother's juices there, not minutes before, made her shiver with excitement. Her fingers continued down until she reached her clit, one pushing down to rub between her lips a bit. It took almost no time before she was whimpering and moaning, before her whole body convulsed and quivered with her release. She laid back, her breath coming in short hard gasps; she had never made herself cum that hard. She couldn't help but imagine what it might be like if Art's hand had been the one to help her finish. She frowned at that thought; Art had seemed pretty upset about it. She sat up slowly peering at the open doorway and across the hall to the bathroom's shut door. Slowly she slid from the bed, the warmth of a shower on her mind. The shower was still running, Art still hadn't finished. She figured he would be in there for a while and grabbed the shirt she had been wearing to clean herself up a bit. Guinne pulled a change of clothes from her backpack and pulled it on, heading downstairs after to wait for Art. Morning Wood Ch. 02 Chapter 2: Cleansing Shower Time passed around Art but he didn't notice. The water grew cold, but he was already numb all over. After a while there was a knock at the door, he ignored it, or maybe didn't hear it. Guinne leaned against the bathroom door; he had been in there for hours. She sighed and knocked again, but there was once more no reply so she gave up. "Art?" Guinne called through the door, but silence was her only answer. She wasn't sure if he was ignoring her, or simply hadn't heard her. She called out to him a few more times and continued knocking. He didn't respond though and she knew he wasn't going to. Finally, she reached out and tried the handle. He hadn't locked it in his haste, so she turned it and walked in. His sister approached him, reaching out and shutting the water off, picking up a towel and hanging it over him, covering his nudity. It wrenched her heart to see him sitting there in that state. Had it been wrong? Well, obviously yes, in some ways, but not this much, it couldn't be so wrong as to break her brother like this. Guinne wanted to wrap him up in her arms, and cradle him like a child. Instead, she sat on the toilet, looking at him in the shower, practically comatose. "Art, you need to talk to me. You're scaring me." At first she didn't think he was going to respond, minutes passed and finally he turned his head up, so he was looking at her. "I'm scaring you?" he finally asked,"What are you doing to me? 'Seducing me?' Why, Guinne? What made you do this? It's not right. You know it's not right." "Why isn't it right? Because society says so? Because if we had kids they could be retarded? It's not like I want your babies, Art, and who cares what society says? Don't you love me? Didn't you like that? I know you think I'm attractive, I've seen you look on occasion. I think you're handsome, and if we're not having kids then what does it matter Art? Can't we just love each other?" He didn't know what to say to her, part of him agreed, but part of him protested. What did society matter though? And no, they weren't planning to have kids from this, or well, she didn't seem to, and he didn't want any. But what if there was an accident? A broken condom, a pill forgotten, it happened... And then what if society found out that his sister was having his baby? Or that he was sleeping with her at all? God, what was he even thinking these things for? This was wrong. It might not be society's business, but they would try to make it their business if they ever found out. Since he didn't know how to respond, he just didn't, just sat there. He shifted a bit so that the towel covered him better. "Art, I've wanted this for years. It's not like I just woke up today and saw you and decided 'what the hell.' I used to watch you, in the morning, when you'd lay in bed and masturbate. Every morning, just before your alarm went off you'd toss your covers aside, and grab that bottle of lube you kept between your nightstand and bed, strip off your night clothes. Some mornings you'd just lube up and go at it. I assume you'd fueled it enough in the night that you didn't need any help other than your imagination. Other times you'd pull out one of those magazines you kept hidden beside your bed, and look through it as you worked at yourself. I saw it all, even the stuff you're probably embarrassed about." Guinne grew silent for a moment, looking at him. He was staring at the wall and she could see both arousal and a glimmer of revulsion in his eyes at this revelation of hers. "I started watching you a long time ago. I had to pee one morning and I heard you making noise, so I peeked into your room. You were facing away, and didn't see me. You had a magazine out and were bent over it, your hand moving along your length. I had never seen anything like it, seeing your dick hanging down between your legs. It made me weak in the knees, I didn't know it then but it made me so horny. I watched until you came and when I scurried away fearing you'd see me, I discovered that my panties were soaked. I had only just started having my period, and something told me that I shouldn't ask mom about it. I didn't have anyone else to ask either, none of my friends knew anything, I did talk to them about it kind of; never telling them I'd seen you, just asking questions. But they didn't have any more idea of what it all meant than I did." Art was still staring at the wall, she knew she was babbling, but it had to come out. "I started to figure some things out; I would sneak into your room when you weren't home and look at the magazines. I didn't really understand at first; I thought it was some kind of guide. The pictures of men and women touching themselves made me wonder. I figured that was what you looked at. Like it was some kind of training guide for masturbation and sex, though I didn't really know what sex was at the time. I liked the money shots the most; I didn't know what they were. I just knew that you always sprayed that white stuff out, and I wanted so bad for you to get it all over me. Like the guys in the pictures did. "I started sneaking into your closet before you woke up, watching you through the slats, and after a while beginning to play with myself as well. I didn't have orgasms at first, but it still felt really good, so I did it. Leaning back, watching you play with your cock; I'd rub and rub at myself. "You almost caught me the first time I came; you had been taking extra long that morning. I was really getting into it, imagining my own hand in place of yours, and yours in place of mine. I had started to realize more about sex and masturbation by that point, so I knew that it would be better with your help. I watched you cum, and then all of a sudden it was like an explosion went off in my pussy and I moaned and I think you heard me, but mom had started to yell for you to hurry up and get in the shower. You'd taken so long getting off that you were going to be late for school. You rushed out to take a shower and so you must have forgotten that you'd heard me." "I thought I had imagined it." Art finally spoke in answer to that, glancing at her now, watching her instead of the wall, but still looking somewhat disturbed by it all. But the story was drawing him in, and he was looking at her as she continued to speak. "I thought maybe that was the case, though I'm surprised you even remember it." She said it softly, peering back at him, "Do you understand this, Art? Do you understand that you introduced me to sex? You are the only man I have ever really wanted. Later I learned about incest, that it was wrong, but it just stopped me from trying more, I still watched you. Hell, I came with you the morning you moved out of mom's house. "Before today, that was the last time I had seen you naked, seen you cum; it's been agony. It's been nearly six years since you moved out, Art. But each morning I've lain in bed, fingering myself and wishing to God I could watch my brother stroke his hard cock; thinking that perhaps you were doing that in your dorm or here in your apartment. Last night when I came over I wasn't really drunk, I was faking it so you'd let me crash here. And this morning I snuck into your closet to watch. I had just planned to spy on you; I just had to see that lovely cock again. But then you didn't just lie in bed jerking off, you got up. I thought you had stopped doing it, but as I watched you leave I realized you were just no longer restrained by living with our parents. It thrilled me, watching you wander around your house naked. "I thought for a moment that perhaps you would go to your spare room, where I was supposed to be sleeping. Why else would you be so free? I thought maybe you had known all these years, and now were going to make a move. But I realized that you had simply forgotten that I was here and so I interrupted you. I broke past my own fears and hoped that you would break past the taboos with me, because I wanted you so bad." "You know what happened next, you were there with me." She fell silent then; her tale of lust and incestuous desire there before him. He watched her, not saying anything. Her story played over and over in his mind. Things in the past that he had written off to his imagination; sounds in his closet as he masturbated, looks from his sister that had seemed lustful; times when she had brushed against him in a way that suggested wanting more than just a hug or a kiss on the cheek. A part of him said to banish her from his home; tell her to go and never return. Pretend today had never happened, that she had never touched him, never seen him, to just put it all out of his mind. He knew it wouldn't work though; he couldn't banish her from his mind, even if he did banish her from his home. She had invaded his mind. "Guinne, please go so I can get dressed." He looked away from her as she stood and left the bathroom. Quietly he pushed to his feet, using the towel she had draped over him to dry off. Pulling on his robe and hurrying to his room. He stopped with the door shut behind him, leaning against it. He looked around his room, and his eyes stopped on his closet. He knew Guinne wasn't in there, but he moved there anyway pulling it open and looking inside. She wasn't there. He sighed and walked to his bed, laying down on it. His whole world felt like it had been turned inside out and upside down, and then shaken, vigorously. He ran his hands through his hair; he didn't know what to do. He wanted to go to her and press their lips together, to hold her and be with her and know her as a man knew a woman. She was an adult, in her early twenties, she had made the choice to touch him, had offered herself to him. It wasn't like he had somebody in his life; he had only ever had one relationship last more than a couple months and that had been just after high school. Years ago now. His love life was a string of one night stands and meaningless relationships; internet dates and hook ups at clubs and bars. He had never related well to any woman. That wasn't entirely true though, he had always been able to talk to his sister, had related to her as a person. Which just brought him back to the question: Why not? She was right; he did love her. They had always been close as children and as she was growing up he had always been able to talk to her. They shared interests and had been friends all of their lives. Had all that been a ploy by her, though? Now he wondered about it, about every interaction he had ever had with her. He lay there for awhile, until finally he pushed it all from his mind. He couldn't let this ruin what he did have with his sister; she was still his friend. Did he want more than that though? More than just a friendship between brother and sister? He sighed and pulled on his clothes, his mind still going over all that had happened this morning. The 'beep-beep' of his phone cut through his thoughts though and he lifted it, voice mail. He flipped it open and dialed his voice mail, listening for a few moments. It was his boss; Art hadn't gone in this morning. He glanced at the clock on his phone. It was already past noon; he'd sat in that shower for hours. "Fuck." Moving to the door as he called his boss, luckily his schedule was flexible so it wouldn't be a big deal. They had only called to check on him as he usually came in early and left late. But he was a graphic designer, and technically he set his own schedule. "Hey, it's Art. Yea I'm fine, just had a minor emergency with my sister and I didn't think to call. I'm gonna go ahead and take the day off. I'll work Saturday, I don't have any plans anyway. No, no, nothing to worry about she just got a little too drunk last night and I had to drive her back to her dorm this morning so she could get to class on time." He was descending the stairs quietly; almost afraid he might run into her. "Alright, well, I'll talk to you tomorrow." He hung up his phone, sliding it into a pocket and glancing around at the bottom of the stairs; there was a short hallway with the kitchen at the end, his living room off to the left through an arch, and a door to the bathroom to his right. The stairway also looped around to his right and went down stairs to the garage entrance and front door. Guinne was probably in the living room, waiting for him. He took a slow steadying breath as he walked toward the living room door. She was there, sitting on the couch. She had changed, no longer in just panties and a baby-t. He was thankful he didn't have that reminder of this morning. She was now wearing a black tank top with 'So Say We All' across her breasts, with a pair of jeans and sneakers. He realized she must have been wearing them in the bathroom, but he hadn't noticed. "I'm gonna make some lunch, do you want something?" He hoped that he had sounded 'normal' but feared that he still sounded a bit shaken. She nodded to him, "Sure," gazing at him, trying to decide if he was freaking out or not. He nodded and turned away from her, moving down the hall to the kitchen. She watched his back as it disappeared; should she go to him? Or just let him be for now? She decided against following him. She looked around for a moment. Her book, the new Rowling title, lay face down on the coffee table waiting for her to scoop it up. She had been trying to read it since he had stormed off to the shower, but her thoughts were distracted and she couldn't usually remember what she had read, so kept reading the same lines over and over again. Guinne knew she'd just end up doing that again, so she put the bookmark in it and set it on the table once more, staring down at her hands. She could hear Art in the kitchen cooking; he would make a grand lunch, she knew. Art liked cooking, and everything he cooked was a production whereas she would have been fine with a sandwich or something, but she knew this would at least help calm him down. She looked around from object to object, finally reaching out and lifting the remote from the coffee table, turning on the television and leaning back. She flicked around the channels until she found some Battlestar Galactica reruns and left it there. Guinne shifted, kicking her shoes off and pulling her feet up under her, trying to get into the show, but her mind was still elsewhere. She was thinking of Art, whether or not she had gone too far? Was this going to ruin their relationship? She loved him, like a brother and more, but she didn't want to lose their friendship. He had always been there for her, had always listened when she needed somebody to talk to. He had always been a part of her life, with him being six years older than her, she had never known a time in her life when he wasn't there. After their father had left when she was twelve he had in some ways taken on that role, being both dad and brother. She had already started her sexual fixation by then, he had just graduated from high school, was starting college. But even with all the school work he'd had to do, he'd always found time for her. He always took the time to make her feel special, loved, even if their father had flown off to Germany and didn't want them anymore. Guinne looked up at the doorway to the hall; she couldn't let him push her away, so with a soft sigh she got up from the couch and headed down the hall to the kitchen. He was at the stove, he had some chicken grilling on it, focaccia bread was laid out on the counter. So he had ended up making sandwiches after all. But even those were a production for him; vegetables, special cheeses and sauces; grilled chicken, even his special bread for them. She smiled a bit at it; she leaned against the counter a few feet from him, careful to not block his path from the kitchen this time, she didn't want him to feel trapped. "We can pretend it never happened, if that is what you really want," Guinne said the words softly, carefully, looking down at her feet, the black toe-socks on them, her eyes avoiding looking at him. "I don't want to lose what we have, I love you Art, and while I want more, if you don't I will respect that and find a way to move on." Art didn't answer right away, just turned the chicken over, setting slices of cheese atop them to melt, shutting the stove off. He didn't know if he wanted that, he had tried telling himself that he did, but he knew it was a lie. If he didn't want her he wouldn't have let her do what she had done that morning. He turned around looking over at her, her red hair cascaded down her head, framing her face, its ends touching her shoulders, but going no farther. Her eyes were green, like their father's had been, beautiful and large and full of all her emotions. He saw her own struggle in them, her love for him and her desire not to lose him. Her thick and rather luscious lips were in a faint grimace, resting beneath her slightly up turned nose. He had thought dirty thoughts about those lips before... he had once beaten up a friend for saying she had dick-sucking lips, but he knew it was true. "I don't want to forget what happened," he finally whispered. At first she wasn't even sure he had spoken, but then the words clicked in her head. He didn't want to forget? Did that mean he wanted more? Her lips formed an encouraging smile as she looked at him. "Me either," she said, looking into his eyes. Art saw the hope blossoming in her eyes, she wanted to reach out and grab him, hug him to her chest and kiss him all over. She stood still though, just looking at him; he had to make these moves for now, she knew that. "I am not saying I think it should ever happen again, or anything at all should happen, but it did, and I can't forget it. I-" he stopped struggling with the words in his mouth, trying to make them say what he felt, but unsure how. She wanted to pipe in, but she waited, still knowing he had to lead this for now. "I ... I liked it," the words took effort. He knew it was true, but he also knew it shouldn't be. He spun around and lifted the pan from the stove, using the spatula to place the chicken onto the rolls; they were already slathered in curry mayonnaise and a little dill mustard. He added lettuce, sliced tomato and mushrooms to both, adding a little caramelized onion to his own, knowing Guinne didn't like onions. She just watched him, that faint smile still touching her lips. "There is Pepsi in the fridge, why don't you grab two and we'll go into the living room to eat, I think I hear Starbuck," he waited holding the plates as she grabbed the two drinks and then led the way toward the living room. He couldn't help but admire her backside, the pleasant heart shaped bubble of it. Art knew that he did want her, she had awoken that desire in him, but he wanted to repress it. He knew it had always been there, down inside him, being hidden away, denied. He couldn't do that anymore, and it was pushing its way out, trying to get him to do more. He pushed it back down though and set their plates on the coffee table, sitting down and looking over at the television. He took the Pepsi she offered and opened it, taking a long drink and then setting it on a coaster. He tried to ignore the pleasant feeling of her thigh against his as she sat down. They ate in silence for the most part, though she complimented his cooking. They watched the television show, it finished as they finished their lunches and he leaned back, looking over at her as she sat there. Her own head turning to look over at him, they needed to talk more, he knew that, but he also wished they didn't have to. "We have to figure this out today Guinne, I called in that I wouldn't be coming to work, so I have all afternoon. I want to have this off my mind by tonight, I can't be distracted by it at work, people will wonder what's up." Guinne nodded to his words, shifting her bottom on the couch and turning so she was looking at him, her body directed at him. "I already know what I want Art, no amount of talking will change that."