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Mental Patience Ch. 01

By: PayDay



Author's Note: This is my essay. I wrote it. Stealing is lame. If you do not like it, do not read it. Thanks to all of the favorites and feedback. This is part one of a multi-category story series. This part is submitted alone, the other three will be submitted, and at the same time (as best as the website allows).

DISCLAIMER: Only the stupid want or need disclaimers. This essay is not written with a malicious intent. The stupid will be offended by continuing to read the text. Many, many stupid humans were harmed in the writing of this essay. If you cannot see the erotic nature of this writing, then you are stupid. Comments are at the bottom of the page.

 Part 1: Perspectives

There are things that most of the individual humans reading this are not going to understand, because most of the individual humans reading this are stupid; though because they are taking the time to read it, they are potentially less stupid than other stupid humans. Humans are either stupid or smart, there is not an in-between. Smart humans already knew this. It really is an 'either or' issue.

Intelligence has no bearing on stupidity or smarts. More often than not, very intelligent humans, genius and academics included, are extremely stupid. Smart humans also know how rare they are, and it is shown to them on a constant basis. Smart humans are very rare indeed; for every endless amount of humans, there might be one smart individual. Smart humans know the difference between intelligence and intellect, and it has nothing to do with a dictionary.

Smart humans cannot be differentiated from stupid humans by any form of the science of psychology, as the science was created by stupid humans with a lack of understanding. Smart humans understand what this means, and know it as fact.

Stupid humans do not know who smart humans are, because the smart humans are only understood and recognized by smarter humans. More often than not, stupid humans label the smart ones as 'morons' or 'insane/disordered' due to the inability of differentiation by the stupid.

Groups of individual stupid humans are far more likely to assume one incredibly stupid human individual to be the smartest. Groups of individual stupid humans are also more likely to attack the smartest human among them, or form a group with the intention of attacking one specific smart human individual.

There are zero intentionally famous smart humans, though there are famous smart humans (Lincoln, Gandhi, King, Churchill, Jesus, and etcetera). A smart human has no reason or need for fame as existence is universal and results are irrelevant to intention. Famous smart humans are only famous due to attempts at helping the stupid humans to not be stupid. Smart humans know the only way to obtain fame intentionally involves the selling of one's soul. (For those of you who are stupid, the previous sentence was, and was not, a metaphor.)

Smart humans can be of any gender or race or any variation thereof, just as stupid humans can. It's not a question of genetics, or location, or ideals, or wealth, or gender, or power, or wisdom, or chemistry, or environment. Smart humans are just smarter than stupid humans, at birth, by an immeasurable distance, length, or variable. Smart humans know the size of this representation of difference, and it cannot be explained to stupid humans. All humans are created equal, but not all humans are equal after creation.

Smart humans know that there is always a smarter human, and that the smartest human individual in existence is not the smartest human individual in existence. The smart individual humans are always by themselves, especially when around other humans in a physical space. This includes being around other smart humans.

Smart humans very seldom interact with stupid humans. What a stupid human considers interaction is in no way real time for a smart human, nor is it actually interaction. It's very similar to motor skill ability of a physically perfect adult human compared to that of a newborn infant human. In the previous metaphor, motor skill represents interaction, adult represents smart, and infant represents stupid. This is the best metaphor available for stupid humans to understand.

Often, stupid humans will pick an incredibly stupid human for responsible interactions since they cannot differentiate between stupid and smart.

Contact by smart humans with stupid humans can only be explained as endlessly open to the stupid and akin to the most horrible form of torture multiplied by infinity with infinity as an exponent for the smart.

While smart humans are speaking to stupid humans, for instance, smart humans are just wasting time, usually out of desperation for some form of something worth anything that they can interact with. This includes all aspects of reality on planet Earth that a smart human participates in: marriage, work, parenthood, breathing, sex, walking, and etcetera.

Now, many readers, who are also stupid humans, just had the following thought: "I doubt that the author of this essay has ever been tortured, and therefore has no basis for this comparison."

Those readers are stupid and cannot be expected to understand, as they are unable to see that their actions, beliefs, deeds, and ideals are similar to millions of drops of water or thousands of tiny, tiny cuts. They are also unaware that their stupidity creates mental distress to smart humans equal to that of the most extreme physical pain.

Imagine if every day were childbirth, unless you stayed asleep, and that suicide is for quitters.

Smart humans never make jokes. A thing a smart human says may come across as humorous, but it is in no way a joke. Smart humans only laugh at absurdity, the truth, or horror, since the thing going through a smart human's mind is: "I would have told you so, but you wouldn't have understood." There is no need to 'make jokes' when billions of stupid humans infect planet Earth.

Smart humans never use sarcasm. It may come across as such, but it does not have sarcasm's intent. Only stupid humans think sarcasm is a sign of intelligence. Smart humans know that genuine sarcasm is stupidity incarnated.

Smart humans are doing a favor for stupid humans when they co-exist with them. They cannot help this, it is not a choice. This in turn makes smart humans desire proximity communication less, as it is always one sided. Smart humans will continue to do this favor without complaining, and will continue to function so as to appear to be a normal human (stupid). It is not like there are any other choices available to smart humans, so they are forced to make due.

Smart humans are human, just as stupid humans are. One thing makes us all human, and not all humans have that one thing. All smart humans possess this one thing, and this one thing is not what stupid humans think it is. This is why the word 'people' was not used in this essay except for in this sentence, or by accident.

Smart humans never complain, nor do they whine. Stupid humans cannot understand this concept, as they ever do is whine and complain. Stupid humans are so stupid, that if they continued to read, they would think that complaining has already ensued within this essay.

Smart humans are constantly subject to deja vu. Stupid humans reading this may be thinking: "But that is just like the Matrix." In actuality, smart humans have seen so many things, so many times, that everything really has happened before. Earth is boring to the smart humans since the stupid humans constantly attempt the same things, over and over.

Smart humans also have perfect memories. These memories are not photographic, they are perfect. Stupid humans cannot see the difference. The memories of smart humans are so perfect that they remember every dream they have ever had in vivid detail. They also know that dreams can actually predict a possible future.

Smart humans are not what they appear to be; the more they age, the more detached from stupid humans that smart humans become, since smart humans progressively increase the amount that they are smarter without attempting to, and because stupid humans have a tendency towards increasing stupidity under the guise of trying to become less stupid.

Smart humans owe nothing to the stupid humans of the planet Earth except for warranting their destruction, if only to save the universe (potentially one of many potential universes potentially saved) from further stupidity. This cannot be explained to stupid humans, as they are not capable of understanding.

This destruction includes smart humans as well, but a smart human would have already known that, and known why this is necessary.

Smart humans will do whatever they can in an attempt to make a stupid human less stupid, as it would ease their burdens if more humans were smart. Stupid humans make similar attempts, for the same reason, but instead they become more stupid, and their basis was stupidity.

In turn, stupid humans attack smart humans when this information becomes known. In general, stupid humans often attack smart humans as an inherent response. The reasons for this are obvious. Smart humans know every (read: all, infinity) reason why this happens, but it cannot be explained to stupid humans. Stupid humans blame the smart humans for something they cannot control. Stupid humans are unaware that they do this on a constant basis to smart humans.

The way stupid humans treat smart humans is essentially racism.

It is not the fault of smart humans that they were born smarter than every other human, but they still must suffer the constant whims of the stupid and their excessive stupidity. The stupid majority oppresses the smart minority (a very extreme and rare minority).

Slightly less stupid humans, after reading that racism line, are thinking: "The hatred of racism and discrimination cannot be compared to disagreement with the intellectual majority." Stupid humans are not expected to understand matters of perspective, just as they are not expected to truly understand the validity of standardized testing or its actual purpose.

Smart humans would help planet Earth more if stupid humans were not so stupid. Stupid humans are stupid without conscience, and, for the most part, vilify the smart humans by comparing the smart humans to other stupid humans. Smart humans accept this as fact, and understand that the stupid humans do not, and cannot, know what is good for them.

Smart humans really are better than stupid humans, even if they do not want to be. Smart humans know they are better than the stupid humans around them, but will never admit that they are, because they are smart, and they do not want to deal with excess stupidity unnecessarily. There are also other reasons. These reasons are obvious to smart humans.

Since smart humans must constantly appear to sink to the level of stupid humans to avoid retaliation, smart humans will immediately attempt interaction with individual humans that they believe to also be smart. A smart human understands the variables to the previous sentence. The previous sentence to this one cannot be explained using any form of human communication. A smart human already knew that.

Smart humans understand that "Do unto others as you would have done unto yourself" does not apply to smart humans as there is almost always never another human around capable of understanding even the slightest part about anything a smart human would have done under the circumstances, or even what a smart human attempts to communicate.

The following (there are more) things also do not apply to smart humans: Rules, issued orders, politics, yelling, justice (right and wrong), fashion, choice, responsibility, beauty, laws, religion, the social sciences, location, hypocrisy, rudeness, trends/fads, anger, and language. These things are merely an attempt at control by stupidity, or stupid humans embracing stupidity. Smart humans have their own forms of these items, as the standards were made for the intellectual majority, and in no way take into account the abilities of the smart humans. Forming their own variations to the wills of society is the only way smart humans are able to combat the discrimination by the stupid humans.

"With great power comes great responsibility." It is a phrase (in many variations) used often by stupid humans to force a smart one to interact. This is because stupid humans want to be smart and need the talents of smarter humans, even if they can't admit it because they are stupid, or do not understand that that is what they want, also because they are stupid. The stupid humans, in turn, limit the amount of power the smart human can use, by force, when the smart humans choose to participate.

Stupid humans were born the way they are as well, but are too stupid to realize that they are stupid, and that they need to learn to not be stupid. This is something they will never truly understand. This is also why they interact well with other stupid humans, though on occasion, conflicts will arise as to which stupid human was more stupid at the time, since stupid humans do not want to be stupid.

''Stupid is a mean word." Feelings are in no way taken into account in the writing of this essay. It's not that feelings are stupid, it is merely that the feelings of stupid humans are stupid and simplistic. Smart humans can see why stupid humans feel the way they do. Stupid humans, on the other hand, cannot understand the feelings of smart humans no matter how hard they may try.

A smart human cannot even say, "I'm smarter than you and you should listen to me for your own benefit," since so many stupid humans have made the same claim. If a smart human attempts this, backlash will ensue regardless.

Smart humans recognize infinite variables that in turn create different variations of perceived reality. What smart humans recognize as feeling cannot be put into words for stupid humans to understand. Smart humans already knew all of this and know it is reality.

The greatest most life-changing thing a stupid human has ever encountered equates to something similar to 'fourteen seconds of yesterday' for smart humans, as everything is life changing for smart humans and of an epic nature, all of the time.

Smart humans do not plan in the same way that stupid humans do, this in turn creates conflict. Smart humans plan around the plans of stupid humans within the physical universe, the plans of stupid humans embrace stupid human stupidity and a narrow or incorrect view of the physical universe. In most cases, stupid humans are wrong about whatever they may think is correct. This also creates conflicts, though smart humans will 'play along' so to speak, as their options are limited.

Smart humans do not lie; smart humans never manipulate; smart humans have no concept of greed or wealth except for a hope of boundaries for the information available to them; smart humans have no concept of cheating; smart humans do not contemplate causing anyone intentional pain.

At all times, smart humans think some variation of the following and apply it to all aspects of actual reality and reality's infinite possibilities: There is more than one thing going on at any one given time. Everything is no one single thing, and no one single thing is one single thing. Not everything is what it appears to be, and some things are not what they appear to be while being what they appear to be. Every cause has an effect, and every effect has a cause. Fixing the effect of the cause leaves the cause to effect. Everything effects everything all of the time, and anything can happen at any time, all of the time. Stupid humans are lying/manipulating/cheating all of the time, and they are stupid.

If you are stupid, you've had one or more of the following thoughts (or any thought other than 'OK' or 'I knew that already') as you continued to read so far: "This does not make any sense. This is pure sophistry/double speak. This Grammar needs to be corrected. Drugs are involved in this writing. This has no substance. This is akin to racism. This is hypocritical. This is condescending. This is simplistic. This is arrogant. Why doesn't the author just add another superlative? This writer's problem is somehow related to his gender/sexual orientation, and would not have a problem if they thought like me. This is some form of an assumption. Attack this writer in some way. This is the product of a twisted mind. There is in some way something wrong with the author who wrote these words in correlation. I am angry about this. This writer has anger issues. What about that other thing? This is theoretical. This is stupid. I need to quote some part of these words. This is prophetic." (There are obviously more things thought, but this should cover the majority of unfounded 'hate/anger/problem with' comments.)

This is the truth of the situation. That's the thing about the truth: It's not always very nice to the stupid humans, nor is it seen as the truth by stupid humans, as they are too stupid to actually see what the truth is, let alone any form of 'the big picture' available to them. The reason stupid humans are stupid is because they cannot see all of reality at one time all of the time under any and all circumstances. Smart humans can do this, while at the same time they also calculate in that they are stupid, since only a stupid human thinks that it is not stupid.

Smart humans know what is really going on in any given situation, even if they choose to not point it out.

Smart humans know this essay was written in an attempt to show stupid humans just how stupid they are, and possibly give them a little perspective. Smart humans also know this essay is not going to go over well, and that many, many, things were left out on purpose.

Stupid humans are in no way expected to understand all aspects of every part of this at the same time, though it would be nice for the smart humans on planet Earth if they could.

Mental Patience Ch. 02



Author's note:  This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame.  If you don't like it, don't read it.  Thanks to all the votes, feedback (good or bad), comments, and favorites.  I have decided to submit the sections of this tale one-by-one. The time between chapters will vary.  There is no 'sexual intercourse' in this story, yet.  Hope you enjoy:

Mental Patience, Part 2: Metaphors

Or  Accidents Happen, Part 1

Chance is a strange thing; any gambler can tell you that.  There are occasions where it reaches beyond all probability and luck.  For instance:  Winning the lottery, or catching the biggest fish in the lake with merely a stick and some shoelace.  Proof positive would be the bombshell giving Elijah her phone number, because she, in all reality, should not be doing so, especially since it was his third attempt at trying to get it right.

Elijah blamed the noise of the gigantic cargo plane two-hundred-or-so yards away for his failing, not his nervousness.  The mechanical beast was exactly where it was supposed to be, slowly doing maneuvers and patterns for the cheering crowd.  In fact, if it was not for that plane, Elijah would not have attempted to pull the bikini top and jeans clad sexpot's phone number.

He and his grandfather, Pop, an Air Force man, had been at the air base most of the day.  There are two types of air shows:  Beer filled mullet fests, and the military kind.  The mullets want to see excitement, or death, or near death; the people at the military air base show show up to marvel at what man can build. (ha)

The pair of fellows had stepped off the tarmac and into the shade far back from the crowd milled to the closest possible distance to the runway, shortly before the stunner began to walk their direction.

Summer was dealing it's last Ace; the day was scorching, cloudless, and the sun was high; but the brick overhang they had found was shaded:  The only shade, leanable surfaces, and cooler feel, while still in a view of the field.  It was amazing, and against all probability, that no one else was there.

He had seen the woman earlier, her upper body on display as she accompanied a married couple with some children in strollers, or standing behind himself and Pop during some of the smaller planes.  He had seen her as they looked about at the various displays and antique aircraft.  The two had passed, as Elijah tried not to stare, at least five times.  Now she was alone, and her walk was a natural trap.  Elijah was thanking whomever invented sunglasses for hiding his bulging eyes while she dominated his vision.

Her skin was a deep tanned olive and glistening as she leaned into the only corner of the 'L' shaped opening cut into the corner of the building.  Soon after she arrived at the back of the relief; standing behind Elijah, possibly ten feet away; she was stretching forward with her hands on her shins in front of her calves.  When she stretched - as Elijah saw from the front with eyes begging for a peek - her hair cascaded towards the ground and the strings of a matching bikini bottom framed in the round top of a solid heart shaped backside.  

He changed his thanks to the inventor of low-rider jeans.

She caught the man looking her way with her own eyes hidden by conditioned hair; she was watching him with her own sunglasses at the end of her nose, thanks to gravity.

Busted unknowingly, but not one to stare and gawk if possible, he turned his view back to the launching plane, joining Pop's gaze which had been on the field all along.  He felt her move closer, even though he was not looking; just from his glance, though, her features and being were seared into his brain; he was most stunned, that other than the sunglasses, her only other accessory was a cell phone half out of her right pocket.  

The sexy woman stopped just short of the angled sunlight, peeking a triangle into the shaded area, though changed with sunglasses loosely on the end of her nose along with the button at the top of her jeans undone and folded over, though still zipped; they were riding lower, and her brightly colored bikini was now poking past the edge; it was a string bikini, lime green.  This woman was fit, and she moved like a dancer, her passive energy radiating to challenge the sun.

Somehow, by chance or not, the lack of light where she had stopped made her glow slightly more on one side, and the angle from his perspective was directly in peripherals.  One of her knees - the right one - stuck out and forward since the sneaker'd foot was on the wall, one of her thumbs - the left one - was hooked in her phoneless pocket, and the other hand slowly moved across her cleavage in a casual nature - using the tips of her fingers - while she watched the workhorse float to simulate a runway drop with her head turned.

Elijah was not always the idiot he appeared to be.  As chance would have it, he did realize that the gorgeous and enticingly clad exotic looking woman with the brown/black hair wanted to speak to him, but as chance would have it, he was here for his grandfather.  This how they bonded across generations, with their similar interest in aviation and history; they had planned this trip, quite far from their half of the state, over three months ago.

For the life of his self, Elijah could not think of a way to ask this woman out and not feel rude to his patriarch.  As chance would have it, irrelevance ensued.

"You know what they call that plane?"  The voice, musical and regional, had come from the hotness after the plane began a turn in the distance for another run.  The sound of speech alone oozed sensuality, and both Elijah and Pop turned to look at the woman - Pop leaning forward past his larger grandson at his side - and then to each other; they were the only three people within a hundred paces.

Pop threw a small nod to his grandson.  It was a silent 'go for it because she's not talking to my old ass' look.  Soon after, Pop was turning back to the airfield, waiting for the plane to return from it's looping direction change.

"Uh.. Hi there.  What's your name?"  Elijah was trying not to gawk; his performance was sub-par, even with the sunglasses.

"Jezebel.  Everyone calls me Jess."  She did not move beyond her lips and the hand still skimming her cleavage, only continuing to lean, smiling slightly, knee still in the air.  Her amusement was aimed at his lack of speech, and her need to initiate the conversation.  

This man, whom she had seen at least three times, was the only attractive guy, on the entire airbase - all day - that did not leer at her features.  He simply smiled at her and continued walking with the older gentleman, the pair strangely seeming like Mutt and Jeff from the back.

"Really?"  Elijah was surprised intellectually despite the fact that she looked like a nude model without oversized attributes.  She was slim, yet ample, with slow flaring hips and B's to die for.

"Really...?"  She was asking his name even though it was with forked tongue, as chance would have it, he understood this game.  He also had the edge to use.

"Oh, right, Elijah, people usually call me Eli..." 

"Really?"

"Really."  He let the feel of the words hang in the air.  "So, what happened to your friends?"

"They left me.  Had to take their kids home.  I was about to leave myself, but I thought I'd watch Mary, that's her name," Jezebel nodded once towards the plane with her tongue on her top teeth and glossy lip.  This was her favorite game.

"Oh.." he left the words to hang in the air, then abruptly continued.  "So, Jess," he talked ever so slightly with his hands, using only his fingers for a moment, "why do they call that plane Mary?"  Elijah really wanted to know why the nickname existed, especially now that she was going to speak again.  

Both of his thumbs hooked in his belt, and he cocked his head to the side after he asked; all of his verbal expressions were physically accented with slight smooth movements.

He almost danced as he spoke, every visible muscle steadily flexing.

"Because, she takes it from both ends."  Jezebel was smiling wide now, slightly imperfect teeth that looked perfect, but still in the same position.  Pop huffed a breath at the joke; he had heard it before from a WAC in his youth; from experience, he knew his grandson would be in trouble.  The large plane began to approach, again, from the opposite direction, mimicking it's previous demonstrative flight and decibel level.

"What's your phone number?"  The sound of the jet overpowered his blurted and tactless response.  Elijah could not help himself; he was only imagining where the two would go from here if this was the start.

"What?"  The sound of the jet overpowered her response as she leaned from the waist up in his direction with a hand at her ear, ample'ing her cleavage.  She could have sworn he asked for her phone number.  "Who does that anymore?" she thought to herself, amused by the larger man once again.

As chance would have it, Elijah never did enjoy yelling, as he approached Jezebel, she returned to leaning on the wall; except this time she put her hands flat against it's surface at her sides, standing prone and ready with her shades still on her nose.  When he was close, she tucked her hair back behind her right ear, replacing her hand on the wall after.  She had on giant diamond stud earrings; he had not seen them until now; they looked real, and expensive.

Seeing the opening, lost of his self control, Elijah leaned in, a few inches away from her ear, before repeating the request and standing back.  The plane had reached the end of the field, and was beginning another looped turn off in the distance.

Elijah went straight for checkmate, it was her move.

"Seriously?"  Jezebel was audible now, and the look on her face only made her more beautiful and attractive; it was a cross between surprise, confusion, curiosity, and enthrallment.  It was almost as if she could not believe he had the nerve, and was glad that he did.  Not to mention that she just had hot breath in her ear, it smelled like mint.

"Yes ma'am," Elijah was nodding slightly and smiling, his mirror glasses mirroring hers by being on his nose.  His smile made him look different, look better to her as it changed his face with an actor's skill, but the change was fleeting and gone in an instant.  Jezebel would have missed it if she were not studying his eyes, looking to see the depth in his blue.  

Her own eyes were black, black accented with green mystery; Elijah watched her pupils dilate for the moment he glanced directly at them.  She smelled like flowers, almost too much so.

"I'd like to give you a call and take you out sometime.  I really would like to talk to you for hours," he appeared to be focusing on something far away while he blatantly scanned her up and down for the first time, very slowly, but only once, and then turned to his grandfather.  When he turned back to her, he kicked a thumb Pop's way, the faraway look was gone.

"This is the last plane, my grandfather and I drove together, but I'd really like to see you again, and I don't want to miss this chance.  I mean, what if this is my only one?"  One of Elijah's hands was on his head, elbow out, and the plane was coming back in tune with the end of his words.

Jezebel smiled at him with perfect slightly crooked teeth, eyes shimmering away; his movements and deep voice and forward attitude were drawing her in; the idea of a gentleman snake-charmer exciting her mind.  Jezebel had a thing for the nice ones.

She gave Elijah the number, three times, as the plane had finished it's loop and was remaneuvering on the airfield for a landing.  He called her phone in the deafening sound, and watched her answer/hang-up, just to make sure it worked.  She touched 'TALK' in the instant the aircraft's wheels touched the runway's surface in an instant-only puff of smoke.

"Seey'later, stud," Jezebel spoke with a wink as she readjusted her sunglasses with a pointer, and stepped off the wall, slowly pushing on Elijah - with the same hand that fixed the glasses - in the process of stepping out of the nook.  Elijah had been fidgeting with putting his phone back into his pocket while the sound of the jet was moving off into the distance in the same way the crowd was - in smooth order without fights; Elijah was seemingly unaware of her when she began to move and speak, but as off balance and unprepared as Elijah may have appeared, his body did not yield to the consistent pressure of her finger tips;  Elijah froze and stared lenses-to-lenses upon her touch; Jezebel, in turn, slipped a smile across her lips as she walked closely past, surprised at his talents at the game.

His movement ceased with the energy from her hand, and began again as it moved away with the rest of her body towards the on-base housing instead of the parking lot.

Elijah moved back to the spot next to Pop.  Pop appeared to be in no hurry, hands in his pants pockets, standing straight and slowly rocking on his feet.  He was breathing the jet fumes in deep and having a wonderful day.

"Wow," was all Elijah could say after they walked towards the car.  It was the first time he had spoken since Jezebel left a few minutes ago.  He had only closed his mouth, and stopped shaking his head the moment before.  It was his response to Pop's questioning nod before they had begun walking.

"Yeah, boy, and she called you stud."  Pop replied laughing at his big idiot grandson.

***

Elijah had never used the text messaging feature of his phone.  He had an unlimited amount, he just had no one to text.  No one, that is, until he received the first of his life, and it was from Jezebel.

"So when were you going to call me?" the message read.

Elijah was planning to wait.  He was planning to wait at least a week.  He was naturally overzealous, and he had almost called her as the traffic filed out of the airbase two days ago.  His common sense had stopped him, his common sense had told him to wait.

His common sense was ejected out the door as he received the text, and felt the smart tone.  Elijah decided to call her shortly after, only forty-eight hours after he snagged her digits.  It broke every man rule he had, and when he called, it hit voicemail.

The poor fellow was confused, well, at least until the next message appeared.

"I didn't mean right now, silly, I'm at work.  Call me tomorrow and we'll make a date."

After a few minutes fumbling with technological advances that he had never used before, he managed to send an 'OK' to her phone.  At least he hoped so.  Elijah knew he was not the only overzealous one, and as chance would have it, his phone rang just after 2:00 AM.

"Hello?"  Elijah had been sitting on his couch, reading a book and listening to albums, waiting.

"Hi Eli.  Did I wake you up?"  Jezebel sounded excited, full of energy, almost bubbly.

"No, not at all.  I was just thinking about you." Elijah was never a big sleeper, it made him feel like he was wasting wasting time. (yup)

"Me too!  That's so great.  Sorry I couldn't talk earlier, rulesandall.So when do you want to get together?"  To Elijah, she sounded different than at the airfield.  He couldn't figure out what it was, but something was different, inhibited, hurried.

"Hmm, well I have an idea for something fun, but I'm not off until this weekend.  Are you free on Saturday?  Like, all day?"  He had planned the perfect date for two people to get to know each other years ago; he had used this same date once before, and he enjoyed the variations that the trip could take.  It was only for special people, his secret date.

"I sure am... um, but what did you have in mind?"  Her excitement, even at 2:05 AM, even through the phone, felt infectious.

"It's a secret.  Bring a jacket."  In his mind, Elijah felt dirty for deciding to take Jezebel on the same date as he had someone else, but only for a moment.  "It's her own fault, she had her chance," he thought to himself silently, not at all referencing the woman on the phone.  If Jezebel was going to drive to his house, he would make it worth it.

"Oh?  A secret, huh?"  Jezebel knew all about secrets.  "Well, how do you want to work it out?"

"Why don't you meet me at my place at 8:00 AM on Saturday, unless that's too early for you?"

"Not at all, I don't mind... um... but where do you live?"

The deal was struck and directions given, despite the massive distance and nearly two hours between them.  For the life of him, Elijah could not yet clarify the idea beating at the back of his mind.  It was an idea about Jezebel, the current sound of her voice, and the fact that she was finished work at around 2:00 AM.

Maybe it was just the phone.  Phones mess things up irregardless.  Elijah hated the phone.

***

"Wow, nice place."  Jezebel was dressed for sex.  She wore a skin tight tank - exposing her midriff and black bra straps - with the tightest slightly torn jeans in existence, and high heeled sandals.  Today she had a purse, and even with three or so inches of heel, he was over a head taller.  Elijah took note of her lack of a jacket or sweatshirt.  Elijah hoped she had not heard him, hoping it was the fault of the phone.

"Thanks, it's ok I guess.  It would be bigger and nicer, but the payment for my dream car is a bit much."

"Yeah, I saw that thing.  That's the cleanest car I have ever seen.  You also have the cleanest apartment of any guy in history..."  Jezebel could not believe she had scored such a man.  Elijah was neat, tidy, intelligent, well groomed, and had a job with his own place.  He was the only man she knew, that was not in the military, to have and be such things without the creepy feel.

"Uh.. Thanks?  I guess?  I mean, what's the point of nice things that aren't in nice condition?"  He had gone out at sunrise to make sure the car was still spotless, removing the cover ahead of time.

Jezebel didn't answer, and the question was not entirely rhetorical.  She only smiled at him and continued to look around, impressed.  "Your directions were spot on by the way.  Usually people give terrible directions."

"Well, I didn't want to lose you- I mean, I didn't want you to get lost."  Elijah almost cursed at himself for his idiot slip.  This woman fuddled his brain with only her presence, challenging him to pay attention.

She heard his slip, and laughed once while looking his way, then leaned against the nearest doorway.  Her laughter movements made her more exotic, generations of the beauty of mixed marriages passed down.  Her eyes appeared Asian; her hair, shape, and movements Latino; her skin tone the dark olive of the Italians, or Africans.

"So... do you want some breakfast?  Or do you just want to go for the surprise?"  She was forcing him to speak by her pose.   Elijah had never been in the presence of such a beautiful woman.

"Surprise."  Jezebel's smile was from an angel working for the devil.

"Great, mind if I drive?"

"Nope, my car is full of stuff anyway.  Besides, I don't think you would fit too well."  Her car was a tiny, sporty, Japanese number, and as they walked to his car in the driveway, he knew she was right.  

He also took note of the boxes of clothes in the back seat, if it could be called that, and the giant key scratch down the side of the car.

***

Conversations flowed during the drive, almost an hour from his house to the first part of their destination.  The whole time he was bombarded by her heavy perfume on the air in his car, not at all agitating as it mixed with the scent of leather, and he was sure she was avoiding a specific conversation - at least one specific conversation.  Jezebel was twenty-three, three years younger than he was, and she had family three states away.  

"Are we going to the beach?"  Jezebel was confused, she had no idea where they were or how they had gotten there, but she could see they were heading towards the water.  It was also just past the summer beach season:  Warm air, but cold ocean.




Mental Patience Ch. 02



"Sort of, just not yet, we have to get on a boat first."  Elijah wore a cocky smirk, and it fit him well.

"What?!?  A boat?  What the hell are we doing?"  That look was on her face again, and the sound of her voice mirrored the phone.  The thought had finally formed in his mind; he knew what it was she was not saying.

"Well, it's a ferry.  We'll boat over and drive back, it will give us some time to talk."

"From where?!  To where?!"

"I told you, it's a secret," Elijah was grinning ear to ear, randomly glancing her way as he drove, relaxed into the black leather.  The cool air coming from the dustless vents - mostly the cool air - made her nipples hard, yet he managed not to look, even with sunglasses on, even while looking her way.

"Oh, you're good," Jezebel was impressed with his gentleman grandeur, which was something she had always enjoyed.  His performance was practiced, but his performance was genuine; so professionally done as to make all men look as fools for any similar attempt.  He was also polite, and he actually listened - often questioning into what she told him - rather than assuming.  He was making her nipples harder than the cool air did, especially the angled muscles on his forearms when at rest - the kind without all of the creepy veins - and how they redefined in sinew while he shifted or gripped the wheel.

It was not by chance that her early warning systems were going off, with the system pointing at Elijah.  He was hiding something, or at least, he knew something and was not telling anyone, along with his actions and movements being almost avoidant.  Like most of what he had done so far, he was doing it better than anyone she had ever seen, but it was still felt like he was ignoring her.

Not to mention one of his fingers always tapped a surface when he was not moving otherwise, always to the beat of the quiet songs on the stereo.

Elijah was silently resisting her charms for the sake of everything else she had to offer; a sacrifice for the good of the cause.  That's what the system was telling her.  The handsome, nervous, but polite man she had encountered had become something else entirely.  He almost appeared to be royalty in the guise of the common man with the way he controlled himself.

"But uneasy lies the head that wears a crown..."  Jezebel spoke aloud during a comfortable silence, one of few silences and all comfortable, as she thought to herself.

"Excuse me?"  Elijah could swear that she just quoted Shakespeare at random.  "Who does that?" he thought to himself.  He had been paying attention to the road and interchange, causing him not to believe his own ears.  It could have been the radio.

"Oh?"  Jezebel stared his way as if he had interrupted a philosophy class.

"What?"  Elijah feigned confusion.

"What?"  Her statement was matter of fact, a challenge.

"Um... Nevermind?"  Elijah decided to drop it, leaving anything further on her.  She had responded the same way towards his casual inquisition of her ambiguous career information.

They arrived at the first stop shortly after, parking in line with a half-hour until the vessel left.  The salt of the bay air wafted between the power of her perfume and hints of leather, while the squawking gulls set the mood without intent against the sound of the closing power windows.

"Want to take a walk and look around?  We've got some time to kill, and I would love some coffee.  They have a little store inside if you're game."

"Let's do it."  She was smiling as she spoke, the words instantly making Elijah imagine her naked.  He fought ever part of his being, mental and physical, to not say: "That's what she said."  Outwardly, he made no action aside from continuing the conversation.  It was as if nothing had happened.

"Uh.. You can leave your purse if you want.  Today is on me."  Elijah seemed kind of nervous, similar to when he asked for her phone number.  It was if he had trouble asking of her, even simple things like entering his house.  It was like he did not want to be involved.

"Are you trying to impress me, Eli?"  Jezebel had an eyebrow up, and flicked her sunglasses to the end of her nose in time with the words.  She decided to play the game instead of calling him out.

Elijah's jaw dropped, surprised momentarily by her powers of sex.  Jezebel admired his perfect and straight white teeth - despite his smoking and coffee - along with his fine, but trimmed and full, dirty blonde hair.  He had freckles, barely noticeable through his tan; Elijah was a ginger, Jezebel knew it when the sun from the glass on the roof reflected red in his hair; she had never witnessed someone of his tone with a tan.

"Well... Yeah, I am actually, but I haven't been on a date in a while, so it's no big deal.  Not to mention I would be stupid not to treat you to anything you want.  You don't mind being spoiled, do you?"  Elijah was smiling wide, again looking cocky; the smile more gorgeous than his features even though he looked like a movie star with his sunglasses on.  Jezebel could only grin and go damp down below as she replied.

"No, not at all..."  Elijah kept making her tingle through deeds without contact.

"Great.  We'll do fine then," he spoke shortly after exiting the car, followed by Jezebel.  "Ladies first," he was waving her on with his accentuating movements.  The car alarm beeped when they were a few feet away.

"Are you being a gentleman, Eli?  Or do you just want to stare at my ass?"  Jezebel was making her questions sexier, reaffirming his notions.

"Both," he spoke as he walked with her, a step behind her own pace.  He could barely take his eyes off of the tear in her jeans at the join of her rump and thigh.  Only one asscheek of the jeans was torn, and he could easily make out the tanline - and dark or light skin crease - free curve of her posterior - Her skin tone was natural, and/or she tanned in the minimal.

Elijah held the door to the building on the edge of the water for Jezebel as they entered.  She ran her hand across his t-shirted chest as she passed by his frame leaning on the door, and then walked into the air conditioning.

***

"So, do you want to talk about the good stuff?  Or do you want to just keep playing and chit-chatting?"  Elijah leaned with his back against the rail of the circular wooden dock hanging over the water, and set his coffee down to the side on the flat top.  He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one, Jezebel declined.  She also noted his reticent attitude when he asked. 

"What? What do you mean 'good stuff'?"  Jezebel leaned, to his right, on her left side, against the railing, using her elbow for support.

"Well, we could start with secrets..."  Elijah had a devilish look on his face for an instant.  He knew going for broke meant the next line of questioning could be stronger, more honest.

"No way, not going to happen," Jezebel could not believe his audacity.

"Well then, do you have any kids?"  

"Nope, you?"  Her response was relaxed and she was obviously glad he left the secrets go.

"Nope, no kids for me.  Have you ever been married?"  Jezebel suddenly looked nervous.  It was the first time he had seen her that way.

"I'm... I'mdivorced.  Forawhilenow."  She moved in place with fidgets and wiggles.  Elijah thought it was cute, he would press her later if things continued on well.  Her voice matched the sound of the phone.

"Sorry to hear that.  Married long?"  Elijah knew his next question.  He would make it into a statement.

"Thanks... Four years.. He sort of.. He cheated on me.  So..."

"Sort of?"

"Yeah."  She was looking at the decking.

"Alright, then," again the words' feel hung in the air for a short time.  "So then, there's just that other thing, then."  Elijah loaded, and cocked the hammer, waiting for the either or:  Either a Grammar check or a 'what the fuck' moment was going to happen.

"What?  Other thing?  What do you mean?"  Jezebel was back to sexy confusion, but the worry was still there, his intuition was just as intimidating as the rest of him.  

Elijah was far more forward than she had anticipated, yet not at all controlling.  He was throwing her off her game, the thing she did best, and he was doing it better.  His next statement had the potential to go either way in her mind, good or bad, due to his blunt honesty and performance; the more she was around him, the harder he was becoming to predict.

There had to be something wrong, something to be worried about.

"The other thing.  You know, that you are an exotic dancer.  Like, a stripper, right?  You didn't have to be worried, I don't mind."  The smile on his face, coupled with his look, was pure calm and acceptance and man.  The horn for the ferry bellowed the ready tone the moment after he finished speaking, followed by the momentary and revealing look.

"...how did-" Jezebel never finished speaking.  Elijah flicked the ember of his cigarette into the water - followed by an air flight by the butt into the nearest receptacle - grabbed his coffee, and offered her his arm.  She accepted his escort back to the car, and onto the boat within it, in stunned silence and fidgets.  She felt strangely weak and stupid even though her test scores told her otherwise.

Elijah's smile never left his face while they touched with hooked elbows and her hand on his bicep, though all the while thinking about the fact that Jezebel was still hiding something else, something that felt like a big deal.  

He began to think maybe she was still married.  That would explain why she had not walked with the crowd, and that would explain why she lied to him while talking about her marriage.  He would wait, he really liked this woman.  He would give her the benefit of the doubt.

The trash bin never caught fire.

***

"Look..." Elijah pointed towards the ahead as they stood facing towards the bow of the vessel, "...dolphins, I think, yeah, dolphins."  Elijah had been quiet for the twenty or so minutes since the ferry left.  He had led Jezebel to the highest point on the ferry that passengers could go.  They were alone at their new level, one away from the bridge, and since it was the second trip of the day, there were few other passengers.  He had put on a plain black hooded sweatshirt jacket, and the hood was down.

At least she could see his angled calves incessantly flex as he never stopped moving, even when he was not moving, and even then he was always looking at something.

"Attention, attention.  This is the captain speaking," the speaker was deafening and the captain mumbled.  "Ladies and gentlemen, if you look towards the front of the boat, you will see a pod of dolphins heading out to sea.  That is all.  Thank you."  All Jezebel heard was unintelligible noise.

"So, yeah, dolphins."  Elijah could feel the slight chill of the air over the water getting progressively colder.  A person would need a jacket had the sun not been out.  Jezebel had goose bumps, and was rubbing her upper arms as she looked towards the small mammals still a distance away.  He was already unzipping his sweatshirt as she began to speak.

"It's kind of chilly, I should have brought my jacket," she turned his way as she spoke.  It was the first time she had spoken since he told her he knew of her career choices.  "You.. um.. think you could keep me warm?"  She had a slight grin on her face when she finished, using it almost as bait as she took hold of the warm sweatshirt he offered.

"Only if you tell me your real name," Elijah looked serious and he spoke without movement of any kind, not letting go of the sweatshirt.  He was looking directly at her now, as compared to the surroundings that had his attention previously.  It was also the first time he had made eye contact with her, and she had not caught that he was not doing so previously, until now.

It was almost frightening; at the same time it was too obvious, too powerful, too questioning, too deep, and too forward; flat out it was the most beautiful and intimidating thing she had ever seen.  

"Nicole, my real name is Nicole," she almost seemed relieved as he went back to how he had appeared before, letting out her breath as a sign.  For the first time in her life, Nicole was in a position she had never been before, she was losing, and a man was rewriting the rules.

Elijah moved in in time, lightly placing his hands on her upper arms as she spun back around and moved his body close against hers after she put on the sweatshirt.  

Elijah was a solid and wide type of man despite his slim build, his shoulders easily wider than her hips, and he split the wind before it reached her even though she was up front.  She still had the solid panel of the boat in front of her, but she now leaned into it slightly as he slightly leaned into her.  His natural body heat was intense; Nicole was instantly hot in at least two places with his contact.

He had trashed the coffee cup, and she could smell the scent of his minty gum and slight cologne over the salt air, the same as the day at the air show, and she could smell his natural scent on his sweatshirt.  The combination of them was almost too much for her, as her olfactory senses were staying at their peak along with everything else.  

"What about you, Mister Elijah.  Mister big mystery.  You haven't said a word about your family or anything or what you do besides work and clean."  Nicole was back on the prowl, this guy was worth it:  He was stunningly handsome, and he wasn't trying to show off.  

Thanks to her career choice, she was around men all of the time, she knew what trying looked like.  Nicole had to keep going, had to keep trying to win, she had no choice but to take the bait.  The more she was around Elijah, the more she noticed just how different he was.  Most men, to Nicole, were simple one dimensional clichés, trying as hard as they could to be one thing, a perfect one thing:  A big old dick or asshole.

Elijah was trying to be average, and by all assumptions, he would appear to be, just written off as cocky or intelligent, another dick or asshole.  Upon the slightest examination, though, he became something else.  Something she could not comprehend or break down.  It looked like a duck, and quacked like a duck, but was showing all of the makings of a falcon or an owl.

All Nicole knew is that she liked whatever it was, she would have him naked.  He left her question to pause in the air before he answered all at once, almost thinking about what she had said, and then saying 'fuck it' or something similar.

"That's because I only have my grandparents, I see them every week or so, help them with chores and stuff."  Elijah dropped the level of his voice, and put his hands on top of the metal wall, in front of Nicole, on either side of her.  His hands were more than twice the size of her own hands.  At five foot seven inches without heels, Nicole always thought she was a big girl.  

"I haven't really spoken to my parents in quite a few years.  Same for my siblings, there's six of them.  They get along just fine together with my most recent ex.  Their traded-child support group works pretty well without me in it attempting to fit the nomenclature."  His voice progressively lowered as he spoke.

"Are you serious?"  Nicole spun around, in place and between his arms, facing him and watching him avoid the gaze of her eyes.  His appearance showed that he was absolutely serious, it almost made her want to cry; it was not that he was in despair, but that he had looked so physically un-sad before or had appeared to have so little sadness in his personality, that he must always have had sadness on his face short of smiling.  Nicole could see it now.  "Why would they do that?"

"The truth?"  Elijah's eyes focused down and left and did not move.

His question took her aback.  Nicole could see his hands tighten and his sinewy forearms flex, and she felt his body shrug down as he pushed against the railing, at least until he finished speaking.  The intonation of his words and kinetics of his actions still brought on her sorrow even though he did not have the same expression as he had a moment ago.  It seemed like he wanted to continue, but he kept silent.

He was waiting for her answer.

"Yes, the truth." Nicole couldn't believe how many things this man was, and could be.  She added emotionally unstable to the list in her head.

"We don't get along because no one wants to be Cinderella forever, and because I never have been, and never will be, a cocaine type of man."

"What?"  Nicole could not understand what he was saying.

"You heard what I said.  Think about it, it's the best I can do, I swear."

"Did you practice that?"  She almost wanted to laugh at her own joke, smiling proud, but the way he was staring at her after she replied, she instead jumped back against the rail.  His glare lasted for only a second, long enough for Elijah to put his hands into his pockets and begin to pull away from her.

"No.  I was being serious."  He uttered with vehemence as he began to step back.

"Woah, woah, look I'm sorry," she touched his face with a hand, directing it towards her own direction, freezing his body in place, and grabbed one of his belt loops with the other.  She stared at the accent color of his eyes as the phrase settled in her mind on the border of confusion.  She had a large family, and she understood the benefits of the tribulations caused, and how bad the tribulations could be without benefits.  

"Ok."  Elijah was looking around again, mostly at the foaming water at the front of the watercraft, essentially looking everywhere but her eyes even though that's where his face was pointing.  The hand on his face moved down to join the other now on his belt and she tucked her fingers inside his shorts as she pulled his body softly against her own against the railing.

Elijah was looking over the top of her head, towards the bow of the vessel and the water beyond, as she continued speaking up to his profile, studying the muscles of his neck and perfectly stubble'd jaw line.

"Hmm, so you work a lot.  You have no contact with your family."  Nicole sniffed his chest like an animal.  "You visit your grandparents twice a week or so."  She spoke, for a short time, into his chest, and then into his beltline, before moving back to his profile.  "Plus you never go on any dates?  Do you have any friends?"  

Her questioning seemed nothing but kind, nothing but genuine, and Elijah saw it the same way even though it was the worst thing she could have asked.  His hands were gripping the railing again; her finger tips still teasing elastic.

"Um.. Not really.  I mean, I know a bunch of people, I mean, they are friends with me and everything, it's just.. so.. yeah..."  While she held him in place, she could feel the vibrations and emotions of his voice.  The only other vibes she had ever felt from a man were stupid or rapist or creepy, never something grand, never something similar to this, something almost benevolent in both directions.

"Poor, Eli..."  The words snapped his gaze to her own, as it was meant to, but Nicole was speaking without sarcasm, so his gaze immediately softened.  "Well, you have me now."  Nicole stood up onto her tip toes, kissed him on the cheek, and then spun around facing the water again, leaning with her arms crossed on the railing.  The pair was quiet for some time, both amazed at the amount of information passed, and so quickly.  Elijah slowly did slight horizontal push-ups, he seemed to never sit still.

"Yep, you're right, those are definitely dolphins.  They're beautiful..."  Nicole, ever so slightly, began to rub her charms against him.  She was intending to not be noticed, but knew she surely was.  Land was becoming visible, now on both sides, as they reached the halfway point.  Elijah stopped moving as soon as Nicole started.




Mental Patience Ch. 02



Chance is a strange thing.  Sometimes two people find each other sooner than expected, anticipated, or intended.

***

"You're too smart to just be a dancer."

"Excuse me?"  Nicole was almost offended despite the feel of the small leather purse that he had purchased for her.  He did not offer to buy it, she never asked.  It was the most natural gift she had ever been bought.

Elijah saw his error in wording after the fact.  "What I mean is you seem educated, like there is something academic in the way you are trying to read me."

Nicole had stopped walking towards the car, Elijah did not notice until he finished speaking.  "You're not a shrink, are you?"  When he turned to his right, he noticed she was not there.  He was at least four paces ahead of her, and he was visibly confused at how that had happened.

"What makes you think I'm trying to read you?"  Nicole asked the question with sex, but the nervousness was back, she was also trying as hard as she could not to be angry.  Elijah was getting nothing but kicks out of her defense mechanisms.  He was still winning.

"You're not?"  Elijah knew he had hit the nail on the head.  He reached into his pocket and flicked at his flip phone, staring at it for a moment before returning his gaze towards Nicole.  "We've been together for over eight hours now and you are still trying to figure me out."

"Yes?"  She was answering in question without answering the question, instead as a statement.  Elijah had had enough of that trick.

"Is that a yes or a no?"  Elijah was asking a question, killing her question with his gaze, a gaze that said:  "If you don't knock that shit off, you can call a cab."

Nicole caught the unsaid.

"Yes, I went to school for psychology.  I have a degree."  Her arms were folded and she was looking at the asphalt of the parking lot.  She hated losing.

"Oh, that explains a lot," he returned to closing the short distance, only a few spaces, to his car, Nicole followed at the sound of the alarm noting unlock.

"...And yes," she said as he held the passenger's door open for her.  Nicole had stopped before getting in, only the car door separating her from Elijah.  "I'm trying to figure out what the catch is.  I want to know what's wrong with you."

"Hmm..."  Elijah looked far away for a second, his performance faded just long enough for her to see he was trying not to say something.  "Maybe nothing?  Or maybe everything?"  He had a huge smile despite his eyes still seeming to look at an answer.  The stance of his eyes would remain looking mostly at a thing only he could see until they arrived in his driveway at the end of the evening.

***

It was a simple question after a day of walking around various stores of the year round endless strip malls of the shopping town next to the ocean in another state after a boat ride.  It should have been no big deal, and by all appearances, it was no big deal, but Nicole could tell otherwise based purely on the amount of confusion.  After nine wonderful hours she still could not label him.  Every time she tried to add it all up, she would forget to add something in, and then would have to start all over, and then he would do something totally unexpected.

"So how did you do when you were in school?"  Another simple question, his face and physical response replied to Nicole, and answered her simple question, but he still was not telling her something.

"I did very well.  Good grades and all of that.  I was in this 'Honor Society' bit for a while."  His face glanced her way while his eyes stared at the road but looked at the thing he was not telling her all while he answered her question.  He leaned into the armrest between them with his right hand deftly fingering on the shifter.  His left hand lay towards the top of the steering wheel.  Elijah remained calm physically while his mind was all over the place.  

"What do you mean 'for a while'?"  Nicole was amused at how he shrugged off such recognition; she thought his humble was sexy because it was genuine.

"Well...  They sort of kicked me out by changing some rules and some information, after they had asked me to be in it."  He wasn't smiling anymore.  His face, for an instant, seemed to want to punch someone.  "It's no big deal."  He could feel her still trying to read him, like he wasn't just telling her the truth.

"Did you go to college or tech school or something?" she continued questioning, trying to find the edge to win, trying to explain everything.

"Yeah.  I completed a few years of college, but I'm not really a fan of opinions as facts, and there is much of that in higher education.  It's more stupidity than anything, lots of theories on theories, and experiments on the theories of theories, all with very few facts and lots of assumptions and exceptionless rules."  A strange smile crossed his lips as if he were keeping a secret, or as if he were confused, like a hand in a cookie jar.  Nicole could only call it a smirk.

If she did not know any better, she could almost think he was insulting her and her education, something she had worked very hard to get.

"So you think you are smarter than everyone or something?  What, are you like a genius?"  Her questions made him look directly at her again, since he had done the same thing before, she understood he was reading her intentions.

"No."  His right index finger began to tap the shift knob in tune with the song, as if he were trying to ignore everything despite everything on his mind, and everything going on.  He had rhythm, and the song, a good one, was from his selection.  Elijah was fidgeting because she was making him uncomfortable, and she did not truly know why he suddenly appeared to be angry, or hyper, without actually being either.

Nicole sat into the comfortable black leather, hands laying on top of one another in her lap, her entire body turned towards him to her left with her legs crossed over and only one foot on the floor.  She was still trying not to be confused.  

She tried more:  "Did you ever take the S.A.T.s?"

"All that thing does is test your ability to take standardized testing based on a standard."  Elijah seemed to brush off the question, taking the response elsewhere in a mocking tone.  "You scored in this percentile, therefore you are this good at being what we think is perfect."  

Nicole could not understand why he was seemingly becoming ignorant, and beyond the slightly prophetic nature of his response, he had not answered her question.  "So, did you take it?"

Elijah just turned towards her and shrugged.  His face said:  "Please stop."

"You did, didn't you?  What did you get?  It's no big deal, you can tell me."  Nicole was smiling, she could tell she was pushing his limits with a simple personal question, and all because he was holding back and not bragging.  "At least I think he's not gay," she thought to herself, slightly glad that his inability to match had come to her attention while they shopped for nothing in particular.  

Elijah appeared to not notice her silent continuance, and he clearly was not going to answer anymore, almost like he was ignoring her.  The sun was going down, and somehow, at some point, his sunglasses had ended up on the top of his brow.  As a test to see if he was paying attention, Nicole kicked off her sandals, and crossed her legs in the seat - still in the seat belt - forcefully splitting her cleavage inside the open sweatshirt while sitting up straight.  

Elijah sat up straight in his seat, almost in unison, suddenly making the car appear to be built just for him, still looking straight ahead.  He was paying attention.  To Nicole, that meant that he was trying as hard as he could not to finger fuck her as they drove.

If he was as amazing as he was trying not to say he was - which he appeared to be to Nicole - then that was why her touch froze his movements, because his natural response would blow her mind, either that, or he had a tiny penis.

"So, do you want some dinner?  Or do you want to just skip to the coffee and pie?"  Elijah almost begged for pie when he spoke the word, it made Nicole smile.  

"Coffee and pie.  Where did you have in mind?"

"It's a surprise."  His smile was still made for Hollywood; his eyes were still trying not to say something.

"How did I know?  You mister, are trouble."  Nicole decided to sleep with Elijah at that moment, even if he was ill-equipped.

"Momma says trouble is as trouble does..."  His Gump voice was flawless, her laugh echoed it's perfection.

***

"Check this out."  His breath smelled like the peach pie he had eaten in the diner.  Nicole had just clicked her seat belt when he spoke and then turned on the car's lights.  The headlights had a bluish tint, and the majority of the gauges were an even darker shade of blue.  Ever single interior light matched his eyes save for the red needles for accuracy, they instead reflected in both Elijah's and Nicole's pupils.

"Very nice, did you do that?"  The car was already a little louder than usual, a little faster than usual, all of the additions just enough to get your attention, but only when in use.

"Indeed I did, had to take the whole inside apart.  I even did the lights on the seat buttons."  Elijah pointed to the floor next to her door, the light just accenting his skin and making him appear to be a ghost.  When Nicole turned, she saw that the lighted buttons matched. 

"Want to do something cool?"  His words brought her attention back to his smiling face.

"You want to drive fast, don't you?"  The road outside of the railroad car diner was long and lonely.  "Ok, just don't get me killed."  For some reason Nicole was staring at the clock on the dash, it changed to 7:42 PM against a blue LCD surface in time with the end of her words.

The tires chirped, and Nicole was thrown into her seat just as "Deal" was spoken by Elijah.  The sound of the exhaust became harmony, and the pressure against the leather only ceased four times, mere instants, as he shifted the gears.

Her vision moved from Elijah, to the road, and then back to the clock, where it stayed until it changed to 7:43 PM.  Elijah let off of the gas, shifted into neutral, and allowed the car to coast down to normal operating speeds before he put it back into the last gear.  Nicole glanced at the gauges she could see when he let off of the pedals.

"How fast did we go?"  Her heart was pounding and her pussy was wet.  Her attention was turned on his smile as he answered.  She was amazed how the car had gone from quiet luxury to screaming racecar.

"At least one hundred and sixty miles per hour."  He continued to smile after he spoke, memorizing the look of natural on her face.  The look on his face was the same as when she had walked away from him at the airfield, though he had a smile instead of a dropped jaw.

"At least?"  Her jaw went down, and she was sitting cross legged in the seat again, with her sandals off.  This time though, she was on the arm rest leaning his way like he was reading a story in kindergarten class.  She wanted to touch him, but instead put her right hand stealthily in her own lap, and grabbed the end of the center armrest with her left.  Now he would have to touch her if he shifted, she was tempting him to do the deed.

"That's where the speedometer stops displaying, so, at least."  Nicole could almost think he was lying, and would have, had she not been in the car.  They were once again going a normal speed, the quiet luxury had returned.

"You may be trouble, and I'm pretty sure you are, but I've never gone that fast, I've never done that before."  She almost felt proud of herself, all thanks to his reckless stunt and bravado.  Only her jeans separated her private wet spot from the fingers on her right hand.  Her nipples were making an appearance below her tank top and bra, as well.

"Few have," was Elijah's humble reply as he leaned comfortably into his seat for the duration of the ride, trying as hard as he could not to finger fuck the woman in the passenger's seat, the one whose arm he kept rubbing whenever he shifted.

***

"That was the best date I have ever had...."  Nicole was leaving the words to hang in the air, trying to mirror his tactic and failing.  "So what happens now?"  She was smiling, making it his move.

"I know it was, and since you do not know why, what happens now.  Then I'm going to insult you, even though I do not mean to."  Elijah's voice was flat, emotionless.

"Excuse me?"  His rudeness was triggering mechanisms.

"I said:  'What happens now.'"

"That's what I said."

"I know."

"I don't understand what the hell you are talking about.  You're going to insult me?"

"I know you don't, and I don't need or expect you to, that's the point."  Ever since he had shut the vehicle off, making the interior overhead light come on, he had appeared overly sad again.  He was still wearing his seatbelt and was slightly turned in her direction, one of his hands was still on the wheel.

"Why are you being an asshole all of the sudden?"  Nicole was pissed.

"I'm not.  I simply said:  'What happens now.'  You are the one who seems to be livid."

"Ok, fine.  So you're telling me that what happens now?"

"Yes."

"...but what can be anything..."

"It can also be everything and something and nothing."

"What?"

"Exactly.  I deal primarily in what and truth."

"You're not making any sense."  Nicole was pissed and confused.

"You're not understanding."

"Fine, asshole.  Explain it."

"I have to insult you to explain it.  I have to make you feel stupid."  Elijah braced himself for what was to come.  He had heard and felt the words many times from confused humans.  He still flinched when she said it, despite the bracing.

"Are you gay or something?"

"No, this is something you can't explain."  If she stayed in the car, and did not storm out, he would continue.  As chance would have it, she was too angry to let the situation go.

"Then why would you insult me?"

"It's unintentional, like I said."

"Finethen, doit."  Nicole's anger was infecting her voice.

"I'm not going to sleep with you unless you wise the fuck up."

"Excuuse me?!  Who the fuck do you think you are?"  Nicole was about to slap Elijah, he could feel it.  He continued anyway.

"I think I'm smarter than you, and I think I know what's really going on."

"What!?"  Nicole pulled her left hand back in reaction to his words, as if he couldn't possibly know who she was.  She was going to slap him across the face, but his next statement froze her in place.

"You think I don't know you're still married to a husband who is deployed in a foreign country?  You really think I didn't know this was the best date you have ever had?"  The look on his face was the same as after she had accused him of practicing speech, this time it was not fleeting, this time it was only frightening.

"I... I... We were separated before he deployed.  He hasn't spoken to me in a year..."  She wasn't lying this time.

"You do realize what kind of position that puts me in?  What if he dies over there, what then?  Do you have to leave and play the concerned wife?  Are you going to take all the benefits of that situation?  Does his family even know you two are on the outs?  Were you even going to tell me?"

"I.. I..."

"That's why I'm not going to sleep with you, that's why what happens now.  To me, it's not just sex.  I care what kind of person I am intimate with."

"If you didn't like me, then why did you take me out today."

"I never said that I didn't like you."

"That's how you are acting..."

"Yes, by your perception, I am, but that's not my intentions."

"Please stop..."  Nicole was about to cry.  She felt weak, and she had lost the game that was never a game in the first place.  It was a slaughter.  His words were making it worse.

"I can't, that's the problem.  I think you are one of the most fascinating creatures I have ever met, not to mention you are the most attractive woman I have ever met.  I like almost everything about you that I have learned.  We are just not on the same level."  Nicole sat in silence, confused while listening to him continue.  "Look, I get that you are intelligent, sexual, strong, and beautiful.  I wouldn't have even spoken to you otherwise, but you need to listen to me when I say that you can never understand me."

"What do you mean?"  Nicole spoke in almost a whisper; she had tears on her face.

"You were so worried about S.A.T.s earlier.  Who cares about S.A.T.s?  I got my first high school diploma when I was eight years old, and my penmanship was more than acceptable.  I have three high school diplomas, actually.  I took that particular test you referred to twice.  It's just simple multiple choice and an essay within limited parameters, and it is far from standardized.  The college I completed was when I was twelve.  I obtained sixty credits in two semesters.  To me it was simple.  To me, it means nothing.  It's just a drop of water in a bucket of water."  With that, Elijah stepped out of the car after unclicking his seat belt.  

Nicole was so deep in thought absorbing what he had said, that she did not notice he had opened her door until he offered his hand to assist her exit.  She took his hand, and allowed the escort to her car.  Whatever Elijah had her feeling mentally, physically she could still not get enough.  He was too different, an uncomprehendible genius athlete or something. resembling it.

Elijah spoke when they reached her driver's door.  "If you can stop trying to get to know me or figure me out, give me a call one day before you go to work at Storytellers.  I'll buy you some pie and coffee at that little diner up the street, and then we can continue past the what.  I'll answer the phone, for you, no matter what the circumstances, unless it doesn't ring."

Nicole viewed him with a teary gaze as he kissed the fingers on her hand.  He took a few steps away, stopped and turned to her.  "Thank you for the wonderful day.  I hope you give me a call.  Have a pleasant evening, Nicole Smith."  With that he bowed, walked to his front door, unlocked it, and disappeared within.

Elijah's phone rang on Monday, two days after the date.  It was Nicole on the other side.



Mental Patience Ch. 03



Author's Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don't like it, don't read it. To all the editors and critics who repeatedly use 'clumsily worded' in their corrections for my potential use: The words I use are specific; get gooder brain power. Any comments and feedback, positive or negative, is appreciated - Not to mention everyone likes to have errors pointed out.

I apologize for the delay in chapters. My bad's bad; busy, busy. The next chapter is all sex and will be submitted in the 'First Time' category. Hope you enjoy this one.

Mental Patience, Part 3, Or

Accidents Happen, Part 2, and Interference, Part 1

"I can't believe you are so calm." Nicole sat leaning towards the table, both elbows upon it, holding her coffee cup as some sort mask in front of her face, ready to sip. Between morsels of sugar with a hint of coffee, and words, she constantly smiled at her new research project. She had barely touched her cherry pie.

"...I hate how arrogant this sounds, but it's not a big deal. I just understand the rules of existence and human communication better than you. I just absorb more information from my surroundings at one time. You're calm about owning the term 'sexuality' because it's always been that way for you." Elijah said without arrogance before taking another bite of his rhubarb pie.

He was sitting up straight, holding his fork in one hand and a napkin in the other, never quite touching to table. While he spoke, his fork danced on his finger tips with spins and twists, and his mouth was barren of food; Elijah always wiped his lips before he spoke to her.

He only had one creamer in the cup, Elijah loved the taste of the coffee at this place, so there was no need for more. So far as he could tell, this diner had his third favorite diner flavor coffee.

This was an old diner, a physical reference to times and ideals past. The floor was spotted and reflectively speckled; the ceiling was popcorn - and equally reflective as the floor; the walls were spotless glowing stainless steel, and the counter top matched the floor in pattern, as did the footrest for the counter top stools. The neon accents were perfect.

This particular location was a functioning work of art complete with individual table jukeboxes, a clock molded into the steel, and pies spinning in a cooled glass enclosure among other pastry delights aligned in a display case counter to the side.

Elijah had grown up near here, and this was one of his favorite places, not to mention Storytellers just happened to be five minutes away. They still gave saucers with the coffee cups; the waitresses call you 'hon' and it's a clean place. The safety of the environment kept people from arguing.

"That's a big deal, and a bold claim, mister." Nicole almost laughed out loud at the audacity of it. This was a whole new game, these were brand new tricks for a man. "That's like reading minds, or being a superhero."

"If a person can be born blind, than a person can be born seeing too much."

"It doesn't work that way, Eli, that dichotomy is false." Nicole was being sexy in her rebuttal, even if Elijah was talking crazy, and manipulating ideas as he saw fit.

"Says who? The scientists who swear they can measure the end of the Universe while still being unable to predict the weather?"

"..well..." Her confounded was real when he suddenly did not seem so crazy.

"Jessie Owens."

"What about him?" Nicole let the words hang in the air. She was figuring the trick out very well.

"Is he not super-human?"

"..well yeah, but..."

"No 'but' involved. He was the fastest man alive. His legs worked in conjunction with his body and his surroundings better than all others at one time. His records have since been beaten. Why can't a brain, or other parts of the body, work as well as a world class athlete's legs? You know, like in comparison." Elijah closed his eyes when he finished speaking, and leaned into the bulbous seat of the booth behind him, inaudibly setting down his fork on the plate.

"Bullshit. Prove it." Nicole called his bluff, cynical at his any attempt to explain otherwise. Elijah was quiet for a pause, she was about to interrupt him, but he lifted a finger of the hand that previously held the fork - to kindly delay her - while the napkin still sat snugly in the other hand. A moment later, he spoke.

"You thought the waitress, Diane, I think, was nice, right?" Elijah's eyes were still closed, and he had silently picked his fork back up.

"Yeah, she was, she called me pretty." Nicole was smiling, momentarily sitting up straight to the feeling before leaning back into the table, finally setting down her coffee cup, wondering why he had not answered her question.

"Well, you are, but she's not. Look over my right shoulder, towards the door, but don't be obvious." Nicole turned her eyes towards the door ten or so booths away, spotting their waitress and another chatting. Just as Diane, that was her name, turned her head from her conversation towards a nearby table, Elijah spoke the word "nipples" aloud as she mouthed it; only Nicole heard him.

Nicole turned her eyes back towards Elijah while leaning the minuscule distance back into the booth, parting her lips in realization. His eyes were still closed, and the question was answered by a pattern of events that had not occurred to her in the least.

"No bullshit. Not exactly the scientific method, but no bull." Elijah went back to the pie, opening his eyes as he began to speak and sitting straight up once again, the only seated person in the diner whom was taller than the well padded seatbacks of the booths. "Though situational awareness comes with a catch, it makes a shell shocked gunner just the same as it makes a fighter ace." He spoke after the bite, eyes down and scanning, temporarily hunched at the words

"You're brain is sexy." Nicole licked her lips after she spoke.

"Sexy if I use my powers for good. Imagine if I were a creep." Elijah almost shivered after he spoke, still scanning the table without looking at it, his own words causing his body to react. "It gets better, though, just wait until you see me naked." Elijah dropped a fast wink in tune with a grin after he spoke, she would have missed it if she had not been looking at his eyes and their hypersensitive view. She was starting to realize that she could feel his words if she just stopped listening for what she expected, or wanted him to say.

"I can't wait." Nicole replied without pause, echoing his words. She was surprised at herself for the immediate outburst and not at all embarrassed. This man was a challenge.

"So what's the deal with your husband?" Elijah took another casual bite of his baked goodness with his eyes closed, it could easily have been mistaken as a blink; her surprised response at the blatant words could easily have been mistaken as offended.

***

"I know you just wanted me to come here and talk, and work it out, but I don't love you like you think, not yet. What I consider love is in no way what you expect..." - he spit the word - "...me to give you, and we are not going to work this out right now."

The pair sat in silence for a time, both staring forward on the steel framed wooden swing hung by chains - unswinging and seated inches apart - before Elijah spoke again.

"I can't do this anymore. I realize now that you may never understand, and making you happy is killing me, especially when the first time I say 'no' to something, you flip the fuck out and come running here. To them." Elijah looked like he was about to puke, but Heather did not see it, not in the unlit darkness in which they sat.

"I'm beginning to feel like I'm using you, and that I'm doing it for no reason." He spoke the words into her ear, finally facing her, and inadvertently, himself.

Heather just couldn't grasp his position because he knew this was going to happen when she did not, and he knew no better way of explaining. He was trying to make this easy, but chance was winning again despite the intentions.

"Maybe when she meets some other men, when she grows up, she'll see what I have to offer. Maybe she can trust me even after this truth," he thought to himself before speaking again. 

"I know this appears selfish, and it is, but this was never completely about you. I'm not a dancing monkey, and I'm not their fucking Cinderella, not anymore. I told you that." Elijah knew she was still going to blame herself. "You know I hate this place, and I hate their side. You don't even see the sides."

Heather was crying now, but hiding it. The unlighted porch they sat upon, his parents's porch, was only filled with lighter shadows from the interior of the house; lights only in the distance and through the window treatments, on the dark, chilly, barely starlit evening. Elijah still saw the tears and heard the irregular breathing.

Elijah had designed, planned, and built this deck, unsupervised, as a chore, when he was twelve years old. The only real help was 'hold this, please' assistance from a sibling, nearly ten years ago. It was the thankless manual labor that drove him to renew his high school diploma in real time.

Heather was the only one tying him to this place now, the only reason he still came here when he knew he would only be used. His family was her family, even if they were not related. 

The 'adopted' sister, thanks to a state program, that he had stayed away from for so long; the one that he had known for nine of his twenty-one sympathetic years, as she was the same age; the one that his family had to 'save' from her own. Her, this girl, she was the reason he still attended holiday family functions.

Heather thought Elijah was scared, or maybe confused since he was a silly boy, for the nine years they never spoke. She too felt the same natural draw that he felt towards her. His family often agreed with her situational assessment. "He thinks too much," they would say, assuming he would never hear them speak and thinking they were right, assuming he would not feel the influence of their words.

"We'll try and set you up with him," and "He does that because," never aiding the situation, and they refused to give up to his pure chagrin; they always tried to manipulate the pair together when it would happen on it's own. Her friends caused problems as well by adding fuel when she fawned over his greatness and what he could do for her.

Elijah would be perfect for this young woman in all eyes but his own, he could make her happy forever and show her the world, and she would 'fix' him for the family. "He could give you whatever you want," her friends would say, "plus he's soooo cute."

Elijah expected perfect, or at least an attempt, in return. Anything less and he would be holding back the potential, something that was always in short supply.

"If only she could see it," he often thought, "If only I could explain it. If only I didn't feel like a piece of meat. Maybe I interfered. Maybe it was all too soon. Maybe I'm an asshole."

The star crossed pair never uttered a word beyond 'hello' until their first date, nine years after they met. Wordlessly they miscommunicated (yup) until that day, even though they were feet apart whenever in the same room during all of those years. She thought that he was acting to mirror a chaste Victorian style romance, and that he was being the dutiful, hardworking, self-reliant, and shy handsome son. 

Elijah was trying to save her from this moment on the porch, this truth that was going to break them up before they began: That he was holding back who he was, that he did something that he should not have. Something he had done for as long as he could remember.

He was trying to ignore her in those nine years, telling himself he could wait nine more if he had to, until she could see past his societal front, knowing (read: hoping) she could see that he was different on her own.

It was the assumptions that did it. Heather assumed she had seen all that he had to offer, she assumed that she was right, and she assumed she had control of the situation when it was never about control.

Elijah figured out what was going on, but would not understand it until later: It was too soon. They were on the porch entirely because of Elijah's lack of self control, his lack of patience; he had thought somehow that he was finally dealt an ace, which it was, but chance suckered him into a bet that he could not win.

Elijah glanced over at the cracked open window to his left. His mother was listening on the other side behind the shade; the lights in that room were off, but even invisible, she was there. Her unseen presence was making his skin crawl. She was going to poison Heather's mind as to what was really going on, just as soon as he left.

"It's all my fault anyway," Elijah thought to himself, almost laughing at the absurdity and the truth of it, and in turn appearing, to Heather, as to think Heather was a joke and the conversation they were having was funny to him; appearing as if he did not care.

"I just want you to stop telling me what I should be, and leave me alone until you get it. In the two years we've been together, you still don't know who I am, and you refuse to quit thinking that you do. We see each other at least five times a week, and loneliness is depressing me. You don't even car what I do for a living, only that I make money in a worthless monetary system."

"Ohmygod." Heather put her head down. She was beginning to understand why he would not ask her to marry him, and understand him even less as he continued on. It never occurred to Heather to tell Elijah to shut his mouth, to suggest that he might be wrong, or that she was ignoring what she did not understand for the sake of the sensations he made her feel.

"I've only been doing all of this for you, so that this wouldn't happen. I wanted to show you how good things could be, and you expect only the good things that you want, and you want them right now, instantly, without realizing what it took to make them happen, or even if I want to be involved."

Elijah paused; he wanted to see if Heather would speak. Eventually, when she did not, he continued.

"You have never asked me a question that wasn't about something you wanted. You seem to only tell me what I am doing wrong these days, and how I should act so you get something you want."

He paused again, and in turn, eventually continued after a silence.

"You do realize there are two sides to this thing, right? Sex isn't the only thing I desire from you, you know?"

Heather ran into the house, wailing, because her heart could take no more, she did not know what the hell Elijah was talking about, even if she did memorize every word.

Elijah stood up and sighed. "Fuck. I'm a piece of shit..." he uttered in near silence to himself before going to his car and driving the forty-five minutes back to his house. 

He was tired; all of this would let him sleep easily, for he would crash and stop thinking about the wasted time, for once.

***

"It's like he was pretending to be the man I loved, the man we know." Heather sobbed into his mother's shoulder - her pseudo mother's shoulder, her friend and confidant - on the bed in the spare room. "He was talking so... strange..." heather was able to say when she caught her breath.

The spare room was really her room away from the on-campus housing she had at school. It was Elijah's old room after his parents kicked him out at eighteen for dating a woman they did not approve of, and because he refused to work in the family business. The room was remodeled within a week; it was Heather's within three. Her clothes were in the draws, he thing were store in the bins at the top of the closet.

"That's not Elijah, baby. Elijah's a good man. He does what he's told. That boy was trying to sound smart. I don't know who that boy was." His mother hugged the young girl and began to pretend to cry from behind a tissue.

***

"Linda and the boys want to meet you. I talked to Linda after she talked to the boys." Nicole was sitting in Elijah's ride, outside of Storytellers in the lot where the customers park. Her shift started in half of a hour, 7:00 PM, and the coffee was just what she needed.

"Ha." Elijah actually said the word and performed it at the same time. "You would have boys, wouldn't you? Woman like you should never be married. You have too much life for marriage, marriage kills some people. Marriage only works if nothing changes, or with real love."

"Yeah, they all want to sleep with me, Linda too. That's why she wants to meet you. She wants to have a three-way."

"Hmm..." Elijah actually said and performed the word. Again. A new trick. "That sounds like fun. A bit coincidental, but... fun. Depends on what she's like." Elijah looked far away, smiling to ignore the fact that she had probably slept with all of them. "How about Friday night?" he said aloud while internally thinking "You'd better not try that 'pet' shit on me."

"I'll make it happen." Nicole's smile was devilish, appearing wild. "Want to come watch me dance?" 

Nicole was sitting on top of one long leg, on the seat, wearing newer, looser, almost baggy, and darker jeans than the day of the first date - though still riding daringly low. She was facing Elijah while simultaneously sticking out her ass with a foot on the floor, and grabbing her ribs by sliding a hand up each side. 

She was wearing a small white 'wife beater' in a man's cut, without a bra, and with one red beaded necklace for a necklace while the second red beaded necklace was used as a belt and followed by a matching bracelet with earrings. The colored accents of her running sneakers matched the package, the combination of it all added to Elijah's visual buffet. Her nipples hardened as her hands slid, protruding darkly through the cotton fabric of the thin shirt.

Elijah was instantly erect, and as far as he could tell, her nipples were Hershey's perfect.

"No thanks, Jezebel. Not like that. Not in that club. Let me know what time Friday, yeah?" Elijah put his sunglasses on, even though it was almost dark, trying very hard, but remaining unnoticed, to stay calm.

"Uh, yeah..." Nicole's face went flat, and then confused - like she wanted to ask a ton of questions - and her arms went limp while her hands went to the opposite sides of her waist shortly after she opened the door. She began to think that she should be offended, in spite of the chivalry, and in spite of the way the words felt.

"See ya," she said to Elijah through the open passenger's door, with a feigned smile and a confused face.

"Bye-bye, beautiful Nicole." he said with perfection. She closed the door to the car, softly, and began walking. She heard his exhaust with the ignition, and the sound of Elijah leaving, but only after she placed her hand on the back door to the club to open it with her key.

She had been hugging herself and smiling, feeling warm inside from his words as she walked to the club while her brain told her to be angry. She turned to see him watching her ass with a smile, because Elijah was watching her ass with a smile. She was beginning to understand the what: that maybe things aren't what she's had always thought they should be.

***

"Shhh.. He doesn't know she's a virgin." 

He did know. Elijah may have been just as young, but he was not stupid. He knew Heather was a virgin, and he knew Jennifer and Trisha thought he could not hear their gossip. Besides that, Heather, his eventual girlfriend, was giving an obvious gawk to her friends in their 'secret code' they had devised over a lifetime.

Elijah had cracked that code quickly. "Nineteen-year-old college sophomores are stupid," Elijah thought to himself as he said, "I'm going to go grab a smoke on the balcony, it's nice out. I'll be back in a few." 




Mental Patience Ch. 03



Elijah placed his beer down on a cardboard bar coaster atop the flimsy Swedish table and headed on out towards the balcony to do just as he said, but really to allow Heather and her friends to sort out the collective. He just wanted to be Heather's friend, to be around her until she understood; her friends wanted another, more storybook scenario.

"Ok," said Heather. 

"Ew," said Jennifer obviously audible. 

"Gross, smoker's breath. How do you kiss him," coded Trisha as Elijah walked out the door.

"Maybe I'll just try and explain slowly when we are alone." Elijah said it to himself repeatedly as he puffed away at his cigarette, fifteen stories above the city. "Ahhh... that calms the shakes..." he said to himself in a mocking tone before laughing aloud. He didn't have any real friends. Heather could be his friend if he showed her the definition of the word.

This was their fifth 'date' even though each was set by "So hey what are you doing right now" and they only kissed once after the first not really date. Elijah could not have stopped himself from interfering, at the time, for Heather was too beautiful in that light on that night. 

He was trying to let her figure things out for herself. She was a nice girl who deserved that.

Elijah was never one to intentionally pressure a person. He asked her to hang out because she occasionally saw greater things and never had a real boyfriend, she was the same age as he was, and maybe she could bridge the gap back to his family. He missed his family, not their foils, but the familiar human contact. Even after a year of college, she kept waiting for Elijah, and he knew it. 

The problem was that Elijah was attracted to this girl. She was his forbidden fruit, and she could not possibly know what she was getting into.

"Maybe," he thought after he inadvertently kissed, "I can just protect her from the people that can hurt her, do it slowly."

He would have to take her on his idea for a perfect date. She would get to know him then. It took excessive planning to figure it out, the combination of five separate dates into one. Elijah hoped it would show Heather the way things could be; that he could show her so many things, and that she would see the truth: that he was not only different, but very much so, and that it could all be for her. 

At least on the balcony he didn't have to watch that predictable network show about the Emergency Room. One more "Oh my gawd can you believe they did that?!" and Elijah was liable to vomit in reply, lung cancer be damned just for the excuse.

Sure, the show looked pretty, and the medical data was accurate, but based on the fact that Heather was the homely one of her friends, and that the two pretty ones would fuck her over in an instant for a crack at Elijah, pretty and accurate was worth nothing in his mind. 

"Boob tube..." Elijah said aloud, to no one in particular. He was alone as it was.

For an instant, he thought of leaping, and ending a few unsolvable and truly unbelievable debates - the kinds that cannot be done on Television and that can only be done once. The kinds of debates that show the finite limits.

***

The apparency (yup) of the lack of comfort was truly obvious on a long road trip, but it was something he had only recently begun to do - road trip, that is. High speeds on the highway were not a problem, as long as the paving was adequate and the road debris minimal. Elijah knew which local roads were smooth, but the stop and go of unknown city streets, or the awful potholes from winter salt and snowplows, took their toll on his body, mind, and vehicle.

He was running through the changes of the new model of the car he had owned since before he could drive and was currently driving. Considering the customized state, the car he was in was actually quite nicer than the 'basketcase' it began as; it was repaired, upgraded in every way, and fully adjustable - though manually adjustable. He was planning the modifications he was going to do when he upgraded to the new model, along with adjustments and fabrications to this current car to add some comfort, as he drove Heather to the ferry.

"Three more years soldier," he thought as he absently patted the dash. "Savings, home, then I drive the dream car, and then you can relax in storage."

The word 'patience' was echoing in his mind as he heard Heather speak over the blaring radio that she constantly changed while flipping through his CDs. "There's nothing on the radio," in point of fact, there was, "and I've never heard of any of these bands. This sucks." Heather continued to scan Top 40 and flip through talent.

"Did you make these CDs?" Heather almost looked impressed even though the discs were labeled in unknown things.

"Yup."

"Is there only one song per band? This CD has, like, twenty on it." Heather was pointing to one of many well labeled, unscratched discs in the case. After driving for forty-five minutes, she still had not asked where they were going, she surely did not know where they were, and no one song had played through the speakers for more than thirty seconds.

"They are mp3 CDs." Elijah spoke as he softly muscled out her hand from in front of the stereo to turn down the volume. He glanced over to her form, buckled but sitting crossed legs in the seat. Her newer canvas sneakers were on the upholstery, but her jean shorts were riding high on her thighs, with her cleavage in a delicious state even if she was wearing a less than revealing t-shirt and covering the skin: All thanks to the seat belt, the racing seat, and the generous size of her chest.

Heather's brunette curls were blowing in the air of the slightly parted window, even though the air conditioning was on and the car smelled of newer upholstery. "M- P- what?" Her hazel eyes and luscious lips were displaying wondrous curiosity that made him swoon.

"M- P- three. The better version of the mp2, better clarity. More music, less space, easier accessibility. You watch, everyone will be in on it someday."

"Is that the computer stuff you do? Like on the Internet? I don't mess with that stuff." The denial and ignorance oozed innocent sex without her knowledge. The curiosity returned when Elijah spoke again.

"You will. In fact, most everyone with computer access will. One day computer classes will be mandatory instead of electives. They can only make money off of it if they get everyone in on it. I mean, you don't even have to code your own HTML anymore..."

"What?"

"You know like web pages? Like something dot com or dot net."

"What?"

"Nevermind..." Elijah said aloud as he thought of a future filled with endless available information and understanding yet knowing it was not in his lifetime. He pointed towards the case, at one disc in particular. "Why don't you try that one. Yup, that's the one."

"This one," Heather spoke as she pointed to the disc with the word 'Trafalgar' written upon it, along with others names and words she had never seen before in combination. Heather looked almost glad for his choice to end her indecision, her relief once again done in a purely sexual manner without intent. "Is it good?"

"The best, it's proof that no matter how much talent an artist or a group of artists have, or that anyone has, really... that selling out to the whims will ruin everything."

"Well I've never heard of this band," she spoke as she pulled out the disc and inserted it into the player.

"Sure you have, Hot Stuff, it's the Bee-Gees."

"The Bee-Gees? You're going to make me listen to Disco? I don't want to listen to this." Heather looked appalled.

"First off, no one is making you do anything. Second, it wasn't always Disco. Once it was beautiful, and they called it Trafalgar, named after a great battle. You won't understand unless you listen." Elijah had paused with his finger on the volume knob of the head unit, after selecting the proper folder of the disc.

"Fine, if you say so." Heather huffed as she crossed her arms in the seat, waiting impatiently and speaking very little more until they arrived at the ferry, not even a critique of the tunes. He silently wished she would ask about the battle and why he thought the album held that title.

"Patience," his mind said to it's self. "If you can do right, she can see more."

***

"This is Lou," Lou was short and chubby: "This is Bud," Bud was taller with a high hair line, slightly older, and standing next to Lou: "This is Dave," Dave was bald with glasses and a creepy smile (read: leer) that did not seem to offend: "...and this is Bob," Bob was totally average, though the tallest of his group of friends and probably a past high school athlete. He was glaring angrily at Elijah, but longingly at Nicole.

"Really?" Elijah said to temporary confused glances, as if the references slipped them by, just before he was excellently interrupted.

"...and I'm Linda," the thin, pale, and perky blonde bombshell spoke as she thrust her hand out between the 'boys' to introduced herself while still bouncing to her new position. Elijah caught her code of 'nice catch' to Nicole; Linda was extremely stealthy in her word-filled-silence, almost unseen; their's (ha) would be a tough code to crack.

Her blonde was obviously natural, ever so slightly golden at the roots, and her smooth pearl skin matched the occasional beauty mark here or there on her visible flesh. Her nails were as dark purple as her eyes also appeared to be, and her politely constrained breasts would easily inspire female envy as it was obvious gravity was losing the war.

"Nice to meet you all," Elijah spoke casually after releasing Linda's hand and ignoring Bob's hate filled stare to the touch. "Shall we?" he motioned with one hand towards the chain steakhouse as the other set of finger tips softly felt the exposed skin at the small of Nicole's back - just above the low waistline of the flared bottom jeans.

The group followed Elijah's suggestion, not at all based on his greater size or more maintained vehicle, with Lou, Bud, and Dave leading the way ahead of Angry Bob, who was next to Linda, who was next to Nicole - conversing, giggling, and chatting away. None of the first three young men held the door, but Elijah did for the remaining three members of the group, including Angry Bob, who was the only one to not reach for a feel, and the only one to glare.

In the four minutes since they had all met, the only personality in the group Elijah would have a potential problem with was good-old cock-blocking Angry Bob.

Elijah knew everyone was different, even twins, and that there was always someone better at something else. Poor good-old cock-blocking Angry Bob did not, and he was in love with Nicole first, and Linda second. He must have slept with them once and gotten hooked.

Elijah was going to ignore him, and feed his anger, because it was the better thing to do, better than ruining everyone's evening early.

***

As it turned out, Lou and Bud fit their nomenclature by being two of the wittiest people that Elijah had ever met, with Linda and Nicole close seconds. Dave, on the other end, was master of the obvious, and funny as hell, always closing each conversation with an ultimate line.

Over a ginormous (yup) fried onion and waiting on various meats, it became apparent to Elijah that these six had known each other for a long time, and that Nicole was indeed telling the truth about her separation, as none of her friends past Angry Bob seemed to mind him being there.

In fact, Angry Bob was the only one not having a good time and the only one drinking too much. He was, as well, quite jealous of the seating arrangements, as Elijah had Dave between himself and Linda, yet still received more attention than Angry Bob, who was seated directly next to her.

The fact that Elijah was ignoring Angry Bob was making things worse for later on. He knew Nicole could see it; her hand went to Elijah's thigh to attempt to hold him back when it was not necessary, as Drunk Angry Bob began Linda touch interference patterns on everyone, as if to protect her from evil. Elijah knew this was going to end in a bad way, but if it did not, Bob would never learn, and he and Nicole would never be proper.

They sat for three hours, leaving just before closing, Elijah quietly dropping a generous tip, above and beyond the required, for the staff's hard work, without regard to the fact that no one asked it of him, and that no one but the waitress saw him do it. Lou had in fact, seen it, despite acting as if he had not, and would indeed tell everyone later on in the week.

"So where to now, boys?" Linda was leaning against her car's trunk, on her elbows and sitting on the bumper, as she asked. Nicole was leaning into Elijah on his right, next to Linda, with her hand in his empty rear pocket, tickling his cheek, while the rest of the group stood in semi-circle around and back to Linda; Drunk Angry Bob was leaning with one hand on her trunk to steady and absently chewing on bits of food left in his mouth.

Dave was the first to speak, interrupting Drunk Angry Bob's attempt. "We could go to Mos Eisley and book passage on a freighter to Alderan or something?"

Bud was next to speak: "Nah, I don't like Jawas, they smell like poodoo."

Lou was next, inciting a laugh from everyone but Bob as he spoke "What's wrong with Jews and puppies? You Imperials only know 'killing and white uniforms.' "

Oddly enough, it was Nicole who was next. "Well I don't want to be around any Wookies, 'cause I didn't bring a lint roller for this black top." As everyone but Bob laughed, Elijah slipped his right fingers past the waistband of Nicole's jeans, hooking his thumb into a belt loop and wrapping his fingers around her hip beneath the fabric; Nicole was not wearing panties.

Only Linda, if she had been looking, or Drunk Angry Bob - but only just barely - could have seen Elijah's fast hands.

"...bunch of nerds..." Linda spoke as the laughter faded, just long enough to get out a thought, but not enough to finish it before Drunk Angry Bob spoke.

"Let's go to my place and chill." Drunk Angry Bob had seen the fast hands, and he almost hiccup'd/burped when he spoke. He was looking at Linda's back window now, fighting, yet feeding, his own rage.

"I don't want to go to your basement." Bud said.

"Right? It's all moist, like a torture pit." Dave said to laughter.

"Plus your mom is home on Fridays." Lou said.

"It puts it's dishes in the sink or else it gets the hose," Linda added in.

"We could go to my club?" Nicole let it hang in the air to the subsiding laughter of all but Bob. He jumped on it, as if he knew her question was coming.

"Yeah. Let's go," Drunk Angry Bob butted in, almost ready to split Elijah and Nicole with his hands. The words from Lou stopped everyone though. 

"I'm not 21 for a couple months." Lou had driven Bud.

"I'm not either, but it should be fine." Dave said, Dave had driven Bob.

"I don't think so." Elijah added.

"Really?" Nicole said, Elijah wondering why she did not know the rules to the club.

"Yeah, what do you know?" Drunk Angry Bob had finally stopped holding back.

"I know state law," Elijah replied, calmly, suddenly as he stood still; the end to his dancing and swaying caught Nicole's attention as his fingers ever so slightly gripped her hipbone with more strength. Nicole's hand on his abs felt the muscles tighten, lift, and move more than they should have been able too.

"Oh yeah..." Drunk Angry Bob raised his deadly pointer finger and aimed it at Elijah, but before he could finish, Elijah showed him and added force behind his words. Nicole felt the vibration of his voice run thorough her body, and she was enjoying the sensation.

"The age is eighteen for gentlemen's clubs unless the establishment sells alcohol, at which time, the age for access becomes twenty-one." Elijah said no more.

"Told you," Dave said, causing smiles and breaking tension.

"Well we're going anyway, 'cause you don't know what you're talking about." Drunk Angry Bob was barely stumbling as he walked to Dave's car without waiting on anyone else, he had much practice. He was only thinking of Linda and Jezebel dancing naked in front of his eyes, forgetting they would only be patrons. 

"I've got to get home, I have to work tomorrow." Lou threw in once Bob was gone.

"Yeah, me too, plus it's like an hour back to my house from there." Bud added.

"Then I guess, Linda you can ride with us, and we'll follow you, Eli," Dave suggested.

"Alright, sounds like a plan. Nice to meet you," Elijah said to the departing as he removed his hand from the top of Nicole's pants, catching Linda's coded 'hey now' to Nicole at the motion. "Ladies first," he spoke to Nicole as he waved towards the passenger's door of his car, the one he intended to open for her.

"Such a gentleman," Nicole said to Elijah, the half truth in a perfectly false austere accent that screamed Judy Garland in her golden years. "Bye-bye, boys," she said with a wave and a kiss to the leaving, mock accent unchanged.

Shortly after, a slightly disappointed looking Linda climbed into the back of Dave's car to a Leering Drunk Angry Bob staring at her ass. If she had not pulled the seat of the two door car back to it's un-tilted position, he surely would have climbed in the back with her.

***

"You've got to pay cover, Jess, 'cause you're not working. Boss's orders," the big doorman, Elijah's size, but overweight, looked sad as he stopped the group at the door.

"That's cool, I got it," Elijah volunteered as he was handing the doorman a bill.

"...and I need to see ID from everyone, Jess." The doorman still had a look of sadness at his words, and a look of warning towards Drunker Angry Bob. Chain restaurant or not, the place mixed a hell of a rum and coke, and all six of the ones he ordered continued to hit in waves.

"You mean it's not eighteen?" Nicole was trying the 'sexy question' trick on the doorman.

"Not when there is a liquor license."

"I don't have enough left for the cover." Linda said next.

Elijah put the bill he was handing out back into his pocket, knowingly rolling his eyes to the doorman who smiled in agreement. They both knew, had the other two young men not been with the group, Elijah could have avoided all of the hubbub and walked right in. 

Elijah decided to take a few steps away from the entrance and back towards his car. He lit a cigarette and waited for the inevitable.

Halfway through his cigarette, the group joined him away from the door.

"Well, let's go to my house." Drunker Angry Bob was at it again.

"I'm going home, that means you are going home, Bob." Dave spoke.

"Well then you. Eli or whatever. G-give me a ride to my house, and you and Nikki and Linda and me can all chill and hook up." Drunker Angry Bob was staring at Nicole's crotch, as if her jeans were not there.

"I don't think so, Bob." Elijah had spoken to him in the firmest possible tone without aggression. "Linda, if you want a ride back to your car, no problem, it is sort of the wrong direction, but I'll do it."

"Nah," she said with a wave of the hand, "Dave can take me after we drop off Bob." Linda was ready to call it a night as it was, maybe she'd make a pass at Dave and invite him over for some friendly fun, while they were alone.

"We're all going to my house." Drunker Angry Bob was showing his true colors. He had almost yelled in his fury, and he caught the relaxing doorman's attention. 

Elijah stood up straight, still surprising in his speed and change, before he spoke only to Asshole Bob: "No." 

Nicole had seen this transformation before, once on the boat, once in his car. Instead of fleeting, or directed at her, Elijah was steady and aimed at Asshole Bob. Given such an opportunity, Nicole began to study Elijah.




Mental Patience Ch. 03



Elijah was not strong, nor solid, nor lean, but transformed yet again, appearing tall, hard, and fierce; larger than the doorman, almost seeming to grow. The muscles on his forearms went from defined and fit to sinewy and rippling as his fists formed and his wrists twisted to ready, thumbs up and wrapped under his fingers. His shoulders widened in both direction, as did his chest and his stance, his weight shifting forward on his toes creating the sexiest calves Nicole had ever seen. He was still calm relaxed though, as his veins were barely accents on his exposed skin and nonexistent on his neck.

Nicole was thanking the view from her new vantage for everything except for the look in Elijah's eyes. The glowing and depth filled eyes that sucked her in were instead sharp and focused, blank and mean, and aimed at Bob's throat. She could only think of her dirty uncle's pit bull, the mean one with the lifeless eyes.

Somehow Elijah had dropped his cigarette and stepped upon it, Nicole only realizing once he exhaled the smoke after his words.

"Yes we are," Asshole Bob smacked Linda's ass, snapping her out of her gawk from Elijah's transformation. "In fact, you can just drop off the three of us and go on home, pussy."

"Hey!" and "Bob, stop it!" from the women was ignored during Asshole Bob's speech.

The doorman crossed his arms on his chest, and leaned back into the railing at the entrance, bringing up a smile for the stupidity of the drunk kid, and glad the boss was not around so he could enjoy the show.

"Listen, basement kid. Why don't you just stop acting stupid and go home before I humiliate you. If you had been any good to these women, they would volunteer to go with you in your friend's car."

The phrase "please don't hurt him" came from Nicole, though smothered by Asshole Bob's "Who do you think you are, fag!"

"No promises." Elijah was speaking to Nicole, calmly yet firm, but never taking his chilling eyes off of his foe.

Asshole Bob saw it as 'fight me' in corollary.

Asshole Bob puffed out his chest and raised his shoulders. The action was almost cartoon-esque in it's comical appearance. Elijah did not move, short of bending his knees to match eye lines.

Asshole Bob dove and jabbed left fist forward while in the air; even drunk and average he could still cause pain, and he knew how to fight; Asshole Bob was aiming for an intentional nose-breaking punch.

On any other occasion, pain would surely ensue. 

Elijah, instead, moved with a furious speed and a practiced form, by far faster than Asshole Bob, enough to sidestep the lunge to the left while positioning himself behind the other man with a pivot. Still at a furious speed, and without pause, Elijah lept to his now left, and slightly forward, and slapped Asshole Bob across the face with his left hand, from behind Bob. It had the effect of putting all of Elijah's substantial weight behind the insulting gesture, completely out of Asshole Bob's view.

Dave and Linda barely saw what happened, they only knew they saw Bob's back, then suddenly the back of a hopping Elijah. "Wow he's fast... jinx" they unintentionally uttered in chorus, each looking to the other the moment after and smiling before turning back to the melee. Linda went damp with sight of Elijah's choreography and the suddenly chiseled sharpness to his calves and back despite the shorts that obviously needed a belt.

Nicole saw the simple strike, and felt the force of the maneuver while the doorman uttered "Nicely done" aloud to himself.

Asshole Bob saw the ground approach in a hurry. His face stung while his feet were lifted off of the ground. His own momentum sent his body flying face first, with only a left forearm to cushion the fall to the pavement.

Humiliated Bob's face swelled at twice the rate as his composure returned. He spun, still on the ground, and looked at the crowd of his peers. His left elbow was bleeding and visible do to the hand cradling the feminine look of surprise on his face. His right palm was bleeding as well, but unseen; both wounds had bits of gravel imbedded within, and the knees of his pants were torn and stained, the skin there potentially injured as well.

The left side of his face clearly showed Elijah's hand, down to the prints on the finger tips, with the image in the deepest violet.

"Had enough?'" Elijah stood with the calm of a martial arts master, one step and two-hundred and eighty degrees from his original position. He looked down upon Humiliated Bob as if to say: "I'm just getting started if you think we need to continue."

"I'd do what he says, kid, and go home, before I call the cops." the doorman hollered.

Elijah tried not to laugh as Dave scooped up his friend with an apologetic glance while Nicole and Linda beamed a silent and coded conversation he could not yet crack. A moment later Linda was following Dave, assisting in the essential dragging of the other friend.

"See you later, tough guy," Linda tossed towards Elijah with a wink. 

"Yeah, bye Eli," Dave tossed without the wink.

"Hey, that rhymed... jinx" Dave and Linda said in chorus as they caught eyes over the roof of the car, both grinning, then they were gone as Elijah wrapped his hand around Nicole's hip, this time above her pants, while she leaned into his side.

"Take me to your place." Nicole said as she sniffed Elijah's fit black t-shirt, running her hand across his chest while catching the slightest hint of an unknown cologne.

"Oh, I intend to," he spoke quiet and deep as he began walking to his car, never letting go of her hip, and never mentioning that it was going to happen anyway, because her car was parked at his home. "Sorry about being rude to your friend, by the way."

"No biggie. He just kind of loves us, Linda and me, and he gets jealous." Nicole slid her hand into his front pocket as they stood facing each other, next to the passenger's door of his car. "You were right too, mmm, by the way," Nicole had gripped his member before pulling the keyfob from the deep pocket of his sagging, medium grey cargo shorts.

"About what?" Elijah looked confused, as if right and wrong never entered the picture, even before she copped her feel.

Nicole passed the key off to Elijah as she took hold of each of his hands, pressing her breasts into his chest and upper abdomen, looking up into his face for an instant before going the sixty percent for a kiss and closing her eyes. "Kicking his ass once was way better than arguing all night, and he was a terrible lay," Nicole spoke with the ease only found in the liberation of an exotic dancer; her eyes remained closed as she spoke.

Elijah smiled at a conversation they both understood and never spoke aloud. He moved his hands with hers as if to Tango, and dipped Nicole in the way he had seen on the cover of romance novels; Nicole squealed at the sudden movement before smiling, touching his face and allowing him to easily hold her weight as they kissed in horizontal pose. 

Just as suddenly he swung her back up and into a spin, Nicole caught herself as dancers do - even twirling one extra time so that the maneuver appeared to end a Tango. Just as she stopped moving, he hit a button of the fob with his free hand, causing the lights of the car blink. The lights, in turn, highlighted her stunning form in curling shadows.

Nicole did not remember seeing him put the gum in his mouth, but she knew exactly how it had gotten into her own.

"Smooth," said the doorman aloud and to himself with a smile as Elijah opened the door for the doorman's favorite dancer.

***

It was cute, and awkward, but it seemed to work. Had she known the dance, or had he explained it ahead of time, Heather would have never bumped her nose to his lips. She had also thought she was going to fall to the ground, but his strength had surprised her above and beyond the physical sensations.

Despite the foul, Heather understood Elijah's intention; his intended maturity made her feel warm inside. Elijah was not like the other boys she knew. Bare minimum, most of those boys wouldn't have had the money to buy her the jacket, let alone get her a gift she had asked for.

The memory of awkwardly leaving the outlets made her pick up the phone. The thought of his shyness made her dial Elijah's number. "I have to do all the work," Heather thought to herself with a smile as the phone rang on the other end. None of the other boys she knew even had cell phones, let alone cars and apartments without room mates.

She had decided to let Elijah sleep with her, she had prepared herself, put on her sexiest underwear, now all he had to do was answer the phone and she would drive on over.

"Well hello there," came Elijah's voice from the other end of the phone; magic, rather than caller ID, ran through her mind.

"Hi Eli, whatcha doing?" The sound of his voice along with the thoughts of sex were making her wet, and Heather was almost losing control of her voice.

"Oh nothing really. Tough day at work. I just got out of the shower, now I'm having a beer as I air dry on a towel. Why? What's up?"

"I was wondering if I could come over and hang out tonight, if you're not too we.. mm.. tired, um, we could stay in." Heather had been touching herself under the sexy short pink cloth shorts and black thong. The sexual frenzy she had been whipping herself into for the past three days was working to a boil, and she was stunned at her own heat. She had hoped Elijah did not hear her slip of the tongue, but in the back of her mind she hoped he had.

He had. 

"Sure, I'm not doing anything, no plans... We could watch a movie or something. See you when you get here, yeah?"

"Yeah. See you in a bit."

"Bye, Heather." Elijah said to the clicking of the phone.

***

It's funny how chance makes some events come in slow motion. As he spun in a circle, he could only think of the conversation he had had not ten minutes ago, before he left, and another conversation twenty-four hours earlier. 

"Look, we'll talk tonight. I know you don't get it, just know that it's over."

"What do you mean, over? Don't you understand I love you?" Elijah could hear the sadness and want in Nicole's voice.

"Over, o- v- e- r. Over. I told you this was going to happen. Look, I have to be somewhere, I told a friend I would fix her car."

"Her? What do you mean her? You said you don't have any friends! What, am I just one notch in your bed."

"No, you know that's not true. Look, I will call you later on tonight. Bye." Elijah had not waited for her response, though before the slow motion memory, he had been waiting on slow motion. The out of state driver was crawling through the busy interchange before turning, without a blinker, into a nearest service road.

As Elijah waited for the death that the telephone pole he was spinning towards would surely provide - a spin he tried he best to control without success - he began to wonder what could have possibly possessed the out of state driver to make an illegal U-turn, without stopping, before slamming into the side of his dream car.

Elijah had also begun to wonder, simultaneously, what ever could have possessed him to offer to fix Heather's car after two years of not speaking with her. Maybe it was that promise he made.

Maybe it had been something he had said to her, once, poking at the back of his mind, when her call came out of the blue. Then again, the phone does tend to ruin everything, even if only by chance. He should have ignored her, it was not time yet, she was not ready, she had not been ready the last two times they had tried to be together.

As the car hit the curb and began to rotate on it's side, while spinning faster, in the air, Elijah thought of the chances of an actual coincidence, and of the debates that were about to be solved purely by chance.

Just before impact, while upside down and still spinning, he was, in slow motion, running through what being patient was actually worth, considering the circumstances.



Mental Patience Ch. 04



Author's Note: This is my story, I wrote it, stealing is lame. If you don't like it, don't read it. You do not have to read any other chapters to understand this one. All characters over are 18 or over when sex is involved.

If ".." appears before or after a phrase, sentence, or word, it refers to a conversational reaction. What that reaction is is entirely relative. (ha) Generally, but not always, it refers to: 'extra pause' or 'hurriedly'.

This chapter was originally going to be the last; instead, I have made it a sexy stand alone story/chapter, and placed the rest into another 2/3 chapters. Thanks for all around great feedback and the favorites. Actual fans, go figure? Hope you enjoy.

Mental Patience, Part 4: Differences, or

Accidents Happen Part 4, and Interference, Part 2

"I've never told you this.. but... I'm still a virgin." Heather was facing Elijah on the king sized bed in the corner of the large studio apartment, sharing a side of his - and the only - pillow in the shadows of light from the Television. A good movie they were not watching, a movie that held no interest, was playing on his giant projection screen, a thing he called a 'scratching dent' - or close to it - a phrase Heather did not understand the meaning of.

"I know." Elijah spoke, softly touching Heather with the fingers of the arm his head rested upon, playing with her curly hair. His other hand began to tease the long slow curve of her hip, on the bare skin between her rumpled shirt and low-hanging pink cloth shorts.

"I figured that you would, but I still wanted you to hear it from me," she was whispering, "I had a feeling someone would tell you." She looked into his eyes, curious at his lack of reaction. "I'm on the pill, have been for a while now." Heather was trying her best to inform him, to tell him what she wanted, yet Elijah seemed to ignore the last part.

"I knew before they told me. That's why I wish they would shut up." Elijah's eyes were focused on the black string of the thong sticking above her shorts, with which he toiled, instead of his battle and fury within.

"Really? How did you know?" Her voice had moved to just above a whisper; a scene on the screen suddenly lit up the room while she started speaking, returning it to shadows exactly when she finished speaking. Heather was trying to expose a fraud, cynical to his gender, chance had chosen to accent it in a way that could have been lightning without thunder.

"I don't know.. Sometimes I just think I know things about you, like.. In the back of my head?" His focus was still purely on the string. "I think we're connected.. I know we're going to be..."

"..boys.." Heather's words stole his attention back; he wasn't smiling sexy to mirror her own, instead looking suddenly fierce. Heather's stiff nipples suddenly hardened beneath her shirt. "Boys may be boys, but sometimes this boy.. Oh, boy," she smiled inside and out, wishing he would handle her, take her - now and anywhere, if not sooner.

"I'm serious. Don't tell me you don't feel whatever this is, chemical, I guess, for now. That's why I wish they would stop telling you things..." Elijah turned his attention back to the string, stopping for a gander at her pointing headlights, hoping chance was on his side. Heather really did have a great rack, the kind of rack that would make Elijah's friends mad at their own girlfriends, that is, if he had any friends.

"What do you think they" - she was mocking him, Elijah knew it, but he did not react - "are telling me?" Heather propped herself on her elbow and put her hands together just below where her breasts met, in turn raising her head higher than his own with her face full of curiosity.

Elijah rolled onto his back, throwing his arms behind his head, incidentally flexing his chest, eight-pack, and arms, for her pleasure. "Just what they think is right." he spoke, quietly.

"What's wrong with that?" Heather was confused at why he though he knew better than everybody else, yet totally entranced by the view.

"Everything." Elijah sighed at the word from his own mouth, turning to look at her conflicted face, somehow unable to stop the back of his mind from saying he was about to ruin their potential. "She's supposed to figure this out herself," it kept repeating as he memorized the face he dreamed of.

Chance had loaded the deck, Elijah was down to a choice: Either stop this villainy - he shivered - it should not be him, he should not be doing this with her yet, neither was ready - or let it happen - because he could just be thinking crazy, as it was the back of his mind no matter how loud it was.

"Explain: Everything. Can't it just be helping?" Elijah had never seen Heather cynical before, or heard her arrogant, until that moment: He would never forget how it changed to aghast, something else he had never seen before, and either.(ha)

Elijah was going to let this happen, because potentially is far better than maybe; he wanted her and she wanted him, so Elijah set up his dominos, following chance's pattern full of potential paths to the same end.

"We don't need any help." He looked stern, quiet for a spell before speaking again. "Did you know I'm a virgin as well, Hot Stuff? ..Or have you been told something else?" Elijah was speaking to the asbestos tile ceiling covered in plastic sheeting, silently wishing that she would have asked him.

"WHAT?! ..But you dated all those girls! ..And all of those parties! ..Ohmgodwhataboutwhat Terry Morris said!!" The tone of Heather's words redefined his use of 'surprised' from that day forward.

"A pretty little thing that needs a ride, and someone who I would be willing to have sex with, are not the same thing, Hot Stuff. You, of all people," he overacted the words causing her to giggle and slap him, causing Elijah to flinch and giggle out: "..should know better."

Elijah was running through memories of the only girl he had fooled around with, both just turned eighteen at the time; the two had struck a deal: "So we don't feel like idiots" the young woman had said: "Fine, but no penetration," had been his reply.

Elijah no longer spoke to that particular young woman, the first he had seen naked, the first woman to try and call him a friend; he missed Terry. He still felt terrible for using her - and he would feel the same sensation whenever he thought of villainy for the rest of his life - knowing her obvious tricks, even then, but hoping to make this moment better as a result.

"Seriously?! Like? Really?" Heather was aghast, and chance was choosing the path in which she understood it.

"Indeed," Elijah replied, feeling like a piece of shit right down to his very core. "I mean, I know some things.. but yeah, not that."

"Why not? It's like, different for guys, right? I mean you could have..." Heather almost appeared disappointed at first, followed by a slow creeping smile and far away visions.

"For the same reason you haven't," Elijah spoke softly but appeared to strain at speaking, forcing the words out from head to toe.

Heather quickly sat up perpendicular to his body from her hips up after he spoke, though her legs still folded and parallel to his, her eyes looking past Elijah, past the bed, right at her thoughts.

He turned to watch her at the start of the abrupt movement; the strange smile on his face mirrored his thoughts of "Yes, I am" - just the same as the slightest of head turns.

"Does he know what I'm thinking? No, this is right, this is sexual attraction, he's not making this happen." Heather's internal voice raced her insides while both twisting in competition.

Her left hand slid to his bare chest, moving her head to look down at his body, taking in the real world, wet between her legs, and pressing against his muscles with the tips of her fingers - still not paying attention to his face.

"Heregoes," she thought through her onrushing anxiety.

"Well.." Heather pulled her shirt off quickly - she was getting too hot, too fast, resuming her position above him, now looking slightly embarrassed - "..was it a person you waiting for?" Heather finally turned her head to look at his face and moving her hand to the top of his shorts though still pressing on firm muscle.

She was hoping he had an answer, even if it was not a good one, so she could finally get past foreplay - her nipples almost hurt and no one was touching them - to the photo finish.

"I was waiting for you to really see me. I don't know if this is right yet..." Elijah finally caught her gaze; he surprised Heather as her eyes settled; Heather could swear he was watching her whole self at once; her eyes, full of fire, turned off his brain. She shivered in the warm air of the giant open space on the cool evening in step with his mind going blank for the first time in his short life.

Heather could smell the relief of the cool air, but had no idea where it lie; his touch was more than relief for the temperature.

She was no longer awkward at the situation, instead all tingles, because his right hand slid along the length of her left leg while he was rolling to face her, then the length of her left arm as he sat up, then the length of her left shoulder as he settled his weight on his knees, and finally, stopping on the left side of her neck with his thumb on her cheek, softly laying his fingers across the curve of her neck, heading towards her spine.

Heather let go of her thoughts of how things should be happening, of what she was supposed to think; this was what she wanted, and she wanted it now, this is how it would be: Natural; no burning candles; no perfect song; no isolated beach and crashing surf with unicorns watching from above and dancing in happy little clouds being painted by Bob Ross himself.

Before she died, her Grandmother had told her to: "Just let it happen, Flower Girl, don't make it happen."

Elijah's hand was as wide as Heather's neck from her shoulder to her jaw, with his thumb past halfway of the height of her ear, at the curve of the top of her cheekbone. Heather wrapped both hands around the firm muscles of his lower back, her knuckles turning red with the slight force of her fingers in his dimples as she also pulled herself to her knees.

Elijah mirrored her movement, placing his free left hand onto her side, his fingers across her cloth covered rear, his thumb on the joint of her strong hip and smooth stomach.

Both she and Elijah pulled each other into a passionate kiss in the center of the bed, on the tangled, but clean fluffy comforter, seemingly built to form into one another, and exerting zero physical force, instead using gravity to start the dominos at the end of the race.

***

Nicole had poured the scotch into the correct glass, her ideas on sex as he called out 'neat' to her question regarding mixes.

The bar, hidden in his kitchen cabinet above the sink, was only top shelf and liqueurs; all of the glasses felt like they did not exist, the mixers and utensils silver and pearl. It was the mixers that matched the crystal seltzer bottle, that's what made her snap.

Nicole was not leaving until sexual satisfaction - not after all this build up.

Elijah had chosen to play his 'Obscure Eighties' mix, to see just how much she loved to dance, his thoughts indirectly including sex, but mostly on potential conversations and visions.

Nicole handed him his glass, pressing into his body and trying for a kiss, but he moved away from her pressure and sat down.

"Guess not," she said silently to herself after a sigh. She plopped into the center of the love seat forming a triangle with his oversized, cushy lounge chair, setting down her unspilled cosmo before tying her hair up using both hands - arching her back - and a piece of ribbon that came from nowhere.

Elijah noticed her bare feet, ankles wrapped in jean, but not until after she smoothed her shirt, which was after she smoothed her jeans, which was after she smoothed her hair, which was after she had tied it in a ribbon.

Elijah burst into laughter at the series of events, throwing his knee over the arm of his seat and tucking the other underneath his body.

"What?" She was curious, staring at his body convulse. She couldn't help but wonder what was going on, his continuance made her uneasy, perplexed. "What?"

"Aren't you just prepared and well placed..." he giggled out, almost like a child, "would you like a piece of gum as well? Perhaps a moist toilette?" He was smacking his slung knee to a vocalized "Ha" shortly after the end of his jokes.

"What?" Nicole's confusion was genuine.

Elijah sighed now: "Guess not," he thought to himself, quickly ceasing his laughter as his mind went elsewhere. "You don't have to impress me, you know? Either way, I'd be right here." With that, he hit the MUTE button of the remote on the table blocking the hypotenuse of the triangle seating.

Something from the second side of U2's WAR played on his newly lit primary computer screen, at a volume just below normal speech. She had thought the screen across from her seat was the Television, not a giant computer monitor. When the standard size monitor - that Nicole did not know was even there, until it lit up - slowly lit to equal the intensity of the massive LCD, she started hurredly scanning the room, wondering where the Television really was, and where the sound of music was coming from.

She found no speakers on the high hung shelves lining the room - all full - nor next to the massive shelf of films, nor around the stunningly sized Television molded into the darkly painted section of wall next to said shelf of movies to her left.

Nicole had not seen any of this; unseen even on the day of her first perfect date, but not her first date, though her first date with Elijah, and her first on a ferry, and she was here in the daylight on that day, first thing in the morning; she was being overwhelmed as the music took control. (should have read the other chapters...)

"Just let go, gorgeous, and relax, so we can talk..." Elijah's voice was deep. She listened to the words she needed.

The next track was something from Billy Squire, the music and the dancing lines of the EQ program displayed across an entire wall, and below that as well, but directly in front of her, had a hypnotizing effect when combined with the sounds from a speakerless void.

They sat in silence for most of the song; Nicole was processing, Elijah was waiting.

"Did you slip me a mickey?" Nicole was giggling, not at all nervous; she wouldn't have cared even if he had done so.

"Absolutely not," his face was serious, as well as his tone.

"I didn't think so... You, Mister Eli, are magic... I mean look at the things you do to me." With that, Nicole downed her small glass, setting it on the table after she stood.

She began to dance to a Scandal song she had never heard, out of time of the beat yet perfectly matched to the music.

"Magic is as magic does," no Gump voice was heard, this was not the time for such things.

She felt free; chance and auto-pilot setting her to her default love; and Nicole did love to dance. "I hope you're not bi-polar or something," she said, smiling as she moved to the space between his knees and the table, then to the open part of the room, more spacious than it seemed from the couch or the doorway, dancing the path she took. Elijah had played with angles equal to her ability to play with motion.

His humor once again echoed out from his full body laugh, slapping his knee before saying: "Absolutely not," and continuing to laugh, but only a little, once again, before speaking. "If anything, I'd be a sociopath, you know, but a nice one."

"Ha," she said aloud, laughing at his words and mimicking his trick just as the jean clad and rock solid curves of her bottom went down to touch the floor, her body snaking back to a standing posture with muscular ease, dancing, in time, to the drawn out words full of sex and carried by music; her arms danced separately in the air the entire time.

Elijah could not stop thinking of a young, Demi Moore, but, well, Ethnic.

"So what's the point then, nice guy, Mister-tough-guy-E-li?" His eyes were locked on her swaying form, her eyes closed while she spoke, "What's the point of being you? Where are the good things?" Elijah knew she was a smart one, he could feel it, and he was sure of what it was. This was not a time to talk about her with a cheesy line; he put the game aside and went all-in based on her person.

"Is there a point to writing a screenplay?" His expression was quizzical.

"What?"

"What's the point of being a honest politician? Or escaping the Matrix?"

"Huh?" Nicole did not understand, despite her intentions.

"What's the point of being a Jedi?" His words were simple, calm, totally serious, and practiced in a way to suggest he'd been waiting for that series of questions for quite some time, and that the answer was tailored just for her.

She heard the last words as she randomly spun to face him. Nicole stopped dancing, her eyes snapping open at the same moment of no movement. "You can't be serious?" Nicole did not care about politics, nor had she seen that Matrix yet, it just came out and everyone said it stunk - that it made little sense. Nicole did care about hope and love, and she loved the trilogy.

Elijah said nothing, only staring at all of her at once.

"Why's it so hot in here?" She had once again begun to spin around, now fanning herself with one hand as she spoke, the other arm still above her head.

...and then the music stopped. Nicole stopped spinning and started looking curiously at Elijah hitting buttons on the remote. Nothing happened when he set down the remote and stood; in fact, the music did not begin to play until after his shirt was fully off and tossed onto the chair that he was previously sitting on.

Elijah slammed his drink down, licking his lips as Ray Charles began to slowly fill the room but looking as if he just swallowed Vegimeatavitamin.

He held out his hand when his face settled, which she promptly took, examining the shape of a spread screaming eagle tattooed on his chest, outlining the natural - and equally shaped - mass of his thin chest hair and the crease of muscle between his pecs; no two lines of the light blue ink connected, no shape or line was quite complete; the color matched parts of his eyes and was hard to notice with shadows against his tan skin; the dark blue Jolly Rogers on each shoulder matched the remainder of the color in his eyes - the yellow flag outlines matched the accents within his eyes and popped with equal fluorescents.

"Yummy.." She did not know his ink was there, and it was only a few years old; Nicole wondered if there was more art to behold, and if it were possible; the images forcing her to growl aloud at how they hugged the shapes of his definition, actually saying 'Rawrl' as she performed the word.

"I don't like the smell of air conditioning, gorgeous, but I can turn it on, if you want." The slightly warm, slightly humid air in the room was causing their skin to glisten: Their proximity was lighting a fire.

Nicole shivered as she moved in, knowing it was not from the AC. "We could just take off more clothes?" she said, unbuttoning the top of her jeans and embracing him fully, resting a part of her head upon his chest.

The two had finally begun to dance to the music, nearly a month after they met; Elijah always did love to dance.

***

"Please touch me, touch... My pussy." Heather flushed red when she asked, it must have been the first time she said the word aloud.




Mental Patience Ch. 04



"Is that what you want?" Elijah palmed her right breast with his right hand, taking a huge part of it in his mouth after he spoke, flicking her nipple with his tongue at a frantic pace while he sucked with force.

"Yes!" Heather was surprised at her own volume; she had answered at the same moment her left hand clasp her free nipple by forcing her arm between their bodies. Elijah had not expected all of this; he was losing it to her, this girl.

She was laying on her back with one of his knees between her legs, Elijah laying along her side, laying some of his weight on her body as the toes of his extended leg tickled her own. Heather was losing it as well, and rubbing herself to climax against a tattoo she had just learned was there, her shorts long gone, only her black thong to separate from his marked naked flesh.

Heather was an attractive young woman, in good, fit health; but for a time after he stood and undressed in front of her, she felt self conscious.

She had actually covered her breasts when he started absently masturbating in front of her, daring her to look: Elijah knew the gift he was given, women had thrown themselves at him since they knew, making up lies when they could not have him.

It wasn't very often that a tall, handsome, intelligent and employed man also had a perfect body and a larger than average penis.

Her eyes caught his tattoo dark against his leg in the flashing lights of the television. It seemed to be his only tattoo, on the front of his muscled right thigh and in the upper half of it; it was three symbols in a line: A pitchfork with an apostrophe and an S, a pentagram, and an Egyptian eye with an arrow to the center.

Heather had no idea what it meant, or when he had gotten it, or that it was even there in the first place.

His voice, combined with his appearance, made it all go away when he spoke to her. "Take your shorts off, Hot Stuff, but not your panties..." Elijah licked his lips as he spoke, as if his mouth were watering, his eyes fierce. He did not have to go all the way, they could wait...

That was all it took for the two to be where they were, and comfortable.

"Please!" Heather yelled. There was no concern at the volume this time. Heather wrapped her left leg around his hip, forcefully humping against him, his manhood pushing into her right thigh a mostly shaven mound; she could stand no more teasing, as his tongue still moved at an incredible pace, but Elijah had switched breasts - still using his right hand - while he had somehow moved her hands above her head with only his left thumb and pointer.

She did not have the strength to break free of his fingers - he never caused her pain from the soft iron grip; regardless Heather was unable to satisfy herself any extra without free hands. She could feel his erection slap against her sparsely fuzzed mound when he pulled away from her to tug the black strings off of her hips, but using his right hand on the crotch of the thong to do it.

"It's sexy how wet you are," Elijah said softly, in a low rumbling voice. He let go of her wrists, Heather's hands flying to his back as he positioned himself between her legs, trying her best pull him down upon her body. His left arm held his body firm above, and his right hand hit her soaked lips, holding her hips from rising off the bed.

"Oooh gaawwwd..." came huskily from her lips in a harsh whisper - along with a dull ache within her body - in time with Elijah when slid the two fingers next to his right thumb into her passage, the thumb landing on her button. Her lubricants, their dance, made entrance easy; her instincts made her muscles clamp down, and his removal impossible.

Heather was in climax, echoing silence; her eyes were wide, her mouth was open, and every muscle on her visible flesh was at full tension. It was Heather's first orgasm at another's hand - with the man she had hoped - her hands tearing at his back, and her legs clamping his wrist.

As suddenly as he had put his fingers into her, they just as suddenly flew out when her muscled relaxed with quickness. Before Elijah could try something else, Heather had both of her hands holding his erection, trying to force it inside her body while he resisted her.

"put it in... Eli... put it in, putitin.. please," she kept repeating herself, almost inaudible, and now trying to use her legs to hold herself up. "Please, Eli, Please!" now more than audible, the perspiration of their bodies making it impossible to hold herself up to gain even the slightest penetration.

This is not where he had intended to be.

Elijah had not suspected Heather's sexual tenacity. She was a sweaty vixen, suddenly mirroring his imagination more than a little bit; he had hoped to show her some tricks, to wait until she understood their connection before being firsts; Heather already knew the tricks, naturally.

Elijah had failed to realize her potential, what she wanted - and it was just that, not chance, that turned the dominos to the new path, even if it was too soon.

Elijah thrust forward as her hands ripped his back and her legs finally locked around his butt, pulling Elijah cock, in one smooth movement, deeply into her tight, wet, and more than perfect pussy as fast as physics would allow.

They both came in union, seconds after they lost their virginity at the same time, both silent as they did, with open mouth stares into the eyes of the other.

A minute later, probably less, still locked together - still inside of her, and still erect - Elijah began to thrust slowly at first and then in an ever increasing fashion; the sounds of their mashing juices seemed to be the only noise above their heavy breathing and random, soft, tongue filled kisses.

They moved like lovers, thrusting in tune and not at all rushing.

Occasionally Heather would cry out to sensations; just as often, Elijah would grunt or growl; he stopped thinking that this was all too soon, at least right then: In fact, he would not think of such things for quite some time, until two years later, on his parents's porch.

***

Nicole was the only human being Elijah had seen slip out of a pair on pants when they were not break-away style. Elijah was wrong, she had been wearing underwear that evening, it was just nonexistent and out of his reach, creamy yellow, almost beige in color and slightly contrasting the tone of her moist skin, but matching the contrasting color of the short tank top she wore.

Nicole spun in a circle away from him after sliding out of her pants, hooking her hands through the loops of the tank as she spun, sliding it down to her waist as she faced him once again.

"You're stunning.. perfect even..." Elijah was trailing off into a whisper as he watched Nicole bend over, returning to standing by sliding a hand along one leg until she was upright; her long muscles echoing underneath her skin while she bent at impossible angles - Nicole watching his eyes watch her body, the thing that all men wanted from her; her nipples were Hershey's perfect.

"Isn't that something..." he spoke aloud, still in a whisper, while she approached him, reaching a hand into the sagging shorts that truly did need a belt, and grasping hold of his member. He let her massage his shaft for quite some time as he softly touched parts of her body to check the truth of his eyes. Nicole was ready, she was feeling like a virgin again - but from his gaze.

He was making her feel like the most important woman in the world, as if her beauty was more than he could handle, and as if he had not noticed it before.

Nicole struck just before the last straw fell into place: "Can we have sex now? I can't take this anymore, because I need to fuck you."

"If we do that now, it will ruin everything. If you can't handle this, what makes you think you can handle that?" He lightly tweaked a nipple, snapping her mind away for a second, causing her to squeak and smile.

"please..." Elijah had seen that look once before on a girl from - for - another time. He shook his head to remove the image of lost relations, almost mad at himself for letting it enter his thoughts. He turned quickly and pulled the shirt off of the seat, still forcing the thought from his mind as he spoke.

"No.. If we do this now, then everything ends too soon, and I'll be alone again." He looked sad as his hands hit her hips; Elijah lifted her into the air as if she were weightless.

He walked over to the large lounge chair, his previous seat, and sat down placing her weight on his lap; Nicole had bent her knees without being asked.

Their contact brought more heat, forcing Nicole to lean back and pull the scrunched tank-top off her hips, throwing it on the floor. She began to absently ride him and play with his pectorals and collarbone.

"please... I give the world's best blowjob..."

"That's a big deal, and a bold claim, Missy." He chose to echo her words, grinning as he did. Nicole looked at the ceiling, letting out a soft sound from her throat before looking back at him with a smile and an ironic squint to her eyes: They now had an inside joke.

"I mean it, I'm good, and I really like you, the way you see things. I want this, Eli," at first, while speaking, her hands had been playing with the sweaty bottom of his hair, above his neck, with her forearms on his shoulders, but her hands were holding his stubble'd cheeks by the time she finished. Nicole leaned into him, arching her back and pressing her slick chest into his own.

At first, the kiss was hurried, almost forceful and not erotic in the least, but soon after it started, Elijah just slightly more forcefully seized her hip and wrapped an arm behind her shoulder, holding the back of her neck, redirecting the kiss to a new pace: This new kiss was insanely slower and twice as forceful, and Elijah set the rhythm.

She took his lead, melting to the sensation of his tongue as he slowly released the tension of his fingers, as if he were teaching her how to kiss for the first time.

"He touched her face, pushing her away lightly. "If we do this now, I'm going to make you crazy," Nicole looked at him, confused, tasting the scotch on his breath, "and then I'm going to turn into an asshole, because you are crazy, and then you're going to turn into a bitch," Nicole raised an eyebrow at that one, almost angry but understanding, "and then I'm going to be a dickhead, and then this will be over, because I'm not the one to love you."

"Then who is?" Nicole knew the answer, but she was asking anyway, trying for any chance to make him slip, to show it was all bullshit.

"He is, and you know it." Elijah looked stern, but not mean or fierce this time - more understanding, like he knew what would happen.

"Is that all?" Nicole was still riding his shorts, though to a pace she did not notice he set, because she was full of thoughts of the kiss she wanted to return to, the first of a kind, and the only kind she would want from this day foreword.

"Not really. Just know that no matter when we do this, it's going to change your life."

"Ha!" Nicole twisted a large portion of her own breast in one palm while she spoke and performed the word, throwing her head back in unison and holding his shoulder with the other hand, the action - along with her hips - causing Elijah to groan.

"I figure.. o-oh.. I figure, either way, for me, it's worth it," he stopped speaking when she slowly circled her hips, beginning again when she returned to up-and-down. "It's your call, gorgeous, your choice, now, or later."

His hands had finally found her nearly bare and gloriously round buttocks, and they were more firm than they appeared to be, similar to the density of his own bicep when she flexed.

His fingers started gripping her ass with a force far beyond what she had seen so far, sure to leave red marks and bruises, but his thumbs were still on the protrusions of her pelvis, holding her back.

***

This was the first time they were together since he had dumped her.

This was very different, and quite frankly, almost awkward; Heather almost seemed scared to do what she wanted to do. Elijah knew he should not have agreed to share the hotel room with Heather at the last minute.

They were on the balcony of the room, shoulder to shoulder and leaning on the railing, shielded from the other balconies by structural walls, but free to the world below them. Elijah was feeling their connection flare; Heather was remembering how it felt to be around him.

He should have known better: Of course she would be at his cousin's wedding, essentially her cousin by circumstance. He should have stayed away until she was ready for him, but chance was winning again.

Chance should not have won. Elijah was in a tux, and women were throwing themselves at him, but Elijah only felt, only saw, Heather. He sat in his seat, talking to his Grandfather, and forcing her from his mind, all night long.

Elijah never rose to dance, not even when the most attractive, most obviously slutty, and most single of the bridesmaids had asked him. Elijah instead convinced her to shimmy with his Pop.

Heather had chased him down as he left the reception just after the cake, early, just catching the elevator he stepped into with her leap. She could not have planned it better, if she had planned it.

"Hi." She was looking great in a simple patterned cream dress with a black belt, matching the pastels of the ceremony, with her hair done up, a tiny purse, and strapped heels.

A flower from one of the smaller centerpieces had been placed into her hair, perfectly, as if on accident.

"Hi," he said, leaning into the corner of the elevator as it traveled up, leaning off of his crossed heels and holding his weight on the small railings inside the space. "You look nice."

"Uh.. thanks.. I like your shoes, in fact, everyone did. They must be new..." She really had nervous vibe projecting, making her quite sexy as she swayed in indecision. He had not thought she would try this so soon.

"Belvederes, ostrich leather, actually." Elijah really did love these shoes. These were his dancing shoes; he only had his dancing shoes, a pair of boots, and two different pair of sneakers.

"Oh? Nice. Um.. so I think I drank too much." She had not; he was watching like a stalker with the skill of a lifetime voyeur, "Do you think I could sleep in your room? It doesn't have to be the bed.. or anything like that... Um.."

"Ok." Elijah would make this easy. He had rented the suite, his intention to pick up a pretty girl and show her a good time, and the bride's best friend had caught his eye long ago. Now was as good a time as any to show Heather more; because of Heather, before the elevator, he was only thinking of a gin and tonic and the hot tub with a view of the trendy city.

Both he and chance were shuffling the cards, steering the dominos down the same path.

Elijah had managed to justify his actions when they originally dated by telling himself he was only showing her how good things could be, and that one day: He would be what she's looking for. Their first encounter was a one way street; this encounter was looking much better, her potential had always surprised Elijah.

He moved into her on the balcony, only thoughts of future road construction and urban planning in his mind. "You're telling me nobody has snatched you up yet? There's been no one else in the last.. what? ..a year?" He knew there were others. He even knew who they were without being told, but this was not about Elijah.

"I thought I couldn't live without you for a while...."

"You can't," he interrupted her, clearly not going to say more; his words made her slink away from him though still touching shoulders as they leaned. Heather had missed the way he made her body react.

"Ook.." she brushed his words off, "Well then Billy came along." Heather rolled her eyes at both of the things she said.

"I told you." He said, sternly but without condescension.

"What do you mean you told me?" Heather was aghast, Elijah's favorite, and she had pushed herself away from him with her arms, now standing just as close, but straight up. Elijah continued to lean.

"..there it is..." Elijah said in a soft breath, thinking only of the passion they were about to have. "You don't remember me telling you that Billy only wanted to sleep with you, and that he was probably going to use you? It was right after that barbeque, I think I said: 'treat you like shit.' "

"Well yeah, but he was my friend..." Heather looked tired for a passing moment.

"I told you there is no such thing, or did you forget that as well?" He was letting his words hang in the air, a trick Heather seldom allowed towards the end of their relationship. It drove him crazy when she broke the connection.

"Oh, like you knew." It was too soon, she cut his hanging words down. Heather may have been feeling the connection, but she still didn't know what it was, feeling as if it were tricking her. He knew she was mocking him; he made no reaction but a sigh during a patient look into her eyes, sadness at her potentially never understanding slightly tinting his gaze.

"I know you were with another man as well..." Elijah managed to rehang words - where they stayed this time. His patience paid off, and Heather leaned back into his shoulder, and back onto the railing. "Probably an older gentleman. Just be glad I'm not bringing up your experiments with your roommate."

"I'm not a lesbian! How would do you know, anyway?" Heather said aloud while only thinking: "Boys may be boys, but sometimes this boy.. Oh, boy," Heather had pulled away from him, aghast and appalled.

"I never said you were a lesbian, Heather." His words hung in a way as to show he meant no harm, naturally bringing her back into his shoulder.

"How do you know so much?" Heather sighed out the words as she made herself comfortable, watching the side of his face.

"I tried to tell you we're connected, but you made fun of me, remember?" Elijah was feeling awful inside at the thoughts of Heather with other men. "Sometimes motivations and actions are obvious without the details."

"Oh I didn't make fun of you, Eli." Her words only served to remind Elijah of what she was still missing.

"Yes. You did. It doesn't matter anyway. So, this other other guy?"

"Are you jealous or something?" Heather was mocking him, again. Elijah had had about enough of that.

"You're fucking right I am, Flower Girl," he said; he was stern, but understanding, and not making fun of her.

Heather looked at him for a long moment, wondering how someone who swore that he was not love with her could possibly be jealous, could possibly know things, and could possibly remember everything all the time. "It was on my vacation with Trisha."

"That explains why you didn't just go to Mexico." Elijah said aloud. "Let me guess, she knew someone who lived down there, who just happened to have a friend available to hang for the week when you guys arrived? I told you Trisha was a villain."

"..Ugh!" She looked angry, speaking with more volume, but her body did not move. "I got naked on the beach too! ..And I was really drunk! ..Is that what you want to hear?!"

Her conversational rhythm appeared off when compared to his own thereafter, and she had spoken first.

"Did you have a good time?" Elijah's words were full of genuine question, an audible first on her part. Heather's brain jumped to a place, a sensation, it had never been to before.

"..I'm such a slut," she only looked down at the world below her, trying to find the pattern, but only able to feel the heat from his body passing through their designer fabrics - their outfits adjusted for comfort: Heather's belt was gone, some of her hair had fallen out of the bundle: Elijah had lost his tie, vest, and jacket, down to unbuttoned sleeves and a slightly visible undershirt.




Mental Patience Ch. 04



Elijah's beltless pants had only suspenders attached, but unslung and no longer holding up his pants from sagging too low. The cuffs of the pants had bundled at the top of his shiny shoes, and parts of his shirt were untucking themselves randomly; Heather had stepped out of her shoes when she walked onto the balcony, and tossed her purse nearby.

"No you are not, Hot Stuff." Elijah studied the system of the world far below, noting the traffic patterns and watching the curve of the Earth roll across the star filled sky as he went to work on the truth.

"Yes I am..." She was looking depressed, and more than at her inability to see the pattern. Elijah needed to tell her something honest, interfering again to stifle the pain she was causing in his heart.

"Were you safe?" Elijah new the answer, she didn't say a word. "Did you enjoy it? Did it happen naturally?"

"..well yeah.. but.." Her face looked worse.

"Then you're not a slut," he paused for a moment, to let her see it. "Some people have more sex happen in their lives than others. Sluts use people, whores do it for money, you were just living your life."

"He was a nice guy." Heather was no longer Lucy-faced, instead calm with the unseen pattern and her emotions dismissed.

"I wouldn't doubt that in the least. In fact, that's why I get jealous." It was time, even if it was too early, again.

"What do you mean?" Heather asked the question, expecting more words, but understanding the answer.

Elijah stood upright, turning and taking her upper arm in his hand, perfectly spinning her to face him and merging their bodies together. For a moment she almost tried to pull away.

"Because you worry, because they are going to try and tie you down, and because you are going to forget about this," he spoke while she closed her eyes and tilted her head.

They kissed with the passion of lovers, slowly thrusting tongues and caressing in connection, not at all rushing the finesse - on the tallest of the distant structures within sight and nineteen stories above the pavement of the bustling system below - as they slowly moved to a silent song.

Heather did always love to dance.

***

"What are you talking about?! I just called you to tell you about my night at work." Nicole was furious on her end of the phone.

"No you didn't. You're trying to get what you want. You're trying to make me a pet."

"What are you talking about?!" Nicole was screaming now.

"This is the part where you start going crazy. If you don't stop heading towards being a bitch, I'm going to be an asshole and hang up on you." Elijah sighed, speaking far too calm for Nicole to handle.

"You mother fucker I do-- *click* ." Elijah had hung up the phone.

This never would have happened if Heather had not texted: "I miss you as a friend, I miss talking to you."

He had always hated her use of the term, her words bringing form to the back of his mind, and pain to his emotions. He never should have let Heather into his thoughts on the night her had sex with Nicole, but that was the thing about connections.  

***

Her Grandmother was right. It was as if Heather and Elijah had outlined their lovemaking ahead of time. He had come twice since the lovemaking resumed after their virginity was exchange; Heather had climaxed countless times across the spectrum of intensity since they had resumed.

After his most recent climax, Elijah had positioned Heather on her hands and knees before resuming his thrusting. She finally understood the term 'doggy style' as she felt weightless, letting him fuck her like a bitch in heat while still making love.

His left hand held her knees from just touching the bed, his palm wrapped around her hip - fingers on her mound and his thumb on her dimples - and using long strokes as he forced her against his member with his right hand pulling back on her shoulder.

Elijah's stroke was smooth, but after holding himself deep for an instant, he would curl his body upwards as he pulled out. It sent her over the edge, and after a time, Heather could take no more.

At first, she dropped her head to her crossed arms, but soon after, her face lay against the mattress with drool trailing from the corner of her mouth and her hands clenching the last sheet left.

It was too much, her eyes clamped shut in an orgasm that actually brought what felt very much like pain.

She screamed aloud trying by force to get past her overwhelmed senses. "OhmygodELI! NOMORE! ..nomore..." The flash, which was not like pain anymore, stole the volume of her words.

Elijah stopped before almost pressing hard into her. He was on the verge of an orgasm despite her fear at potential longevity. Slowly, softly, he removed himself from her spasming channel, and her spasming body, rolling her over and gently laying the back of her head against the pillow while she caught her breath. He moved her with an ease that fortified her weightless sensations.

He lay on her left side, his head on his right hand supported by a propped elbow, slowly stroking her skin with the tips of his fast fingers as she came down. He was still hard, but made no attempt at further intercourse, though constantly reminding his penis who was in charge. "You ok, Hot Stuff?"

"I am..." It was nearly ten minutes before she spoke; her soft, steady breathing and glowing face staving off his concern while he tickled her obscurely. "That was wonderful... I didn't think it could be like that."

Heather was slightly at an angle on the bed, Elijah moving to rest the back of his damp head on her moist abdomen when he began to laugh quietly at her words.

"From what I hear, it gets even better." Elijah was all smiles as he lay with his eyes closed, hands folded on his chest, feet crossed and hanging off the bed, and listening to Heather's heartbeat through her breath.

Somehow the blanket and thin extra sheet had been pushed to a heap on the floor; the cool air thinly blowing past the contrasting window treatments, kissing their condensed skin while they basked in afterglow.

"I don't know if I can handle that..." Heather began to softly giggle at thoughts of pleasure. She was incidentally turning herself back on.

"It'll blow your mind..." He was letting his words hang, it was making her feel stupid, yet sexy.

"Oh yeah," she smiled, nervous, "how do you know so much, Eli?"

"You should know," he began laughing spastically, "You're the one who wants to be the shrink." Elijah slapped his knee as he continued to laugh, confusing Heather.

"What? I don't get it..." Heather had sat up, watching his handsome laughing image.

"You will, Flower Girl, you will," Elijah sat up, catching her eyes as he spoke, before resuming his position on her torso. He had the sexy grin Heather loved plastered across his face, his eyes closed as he thought of urban planning and defying chance.

Heather and Elijah in the hotel! Elijah and Nicole in the apartment! What??! Nicole's husband and a girl named Terry, too?!

You bet. All of that, plus more(!), in the next chapter of Mental Patience: Ch. 05, Villains.