Nicole looked around Cole's home with curious awe accompanied by some annoying déjà vu while feeling warm humor bubble up at the picture it gave her of the man she was rapidly coming undone around.
Video games, action movies, and what looked like some home videos were around the floor in front of the TV. Coke cans were on the coffee table. A couple of beer bottles were poking their necks out of the trash near the kitchen in what she supposed was the dining room, but felt more like living room B.
The house had three bedrooms and two baths. The home office was a bit cluttered, but she could sense order from it, as well. Nothing was rich or luxurious. Nothing was polished or glass cased like at her place. Nothing had gold chrome or tinkling glass. He did have an expensive set of kitchen knives, which she recognized, having the same set at her place.
Browns. A great deal of browns were in his home. The two strangely odd elements, inside this blend of typical suburban male, were the oil paintings on the wall and the complete works of Shakespeare lying with its spine spread open to save his recent reading space. It looked like he was about a fourth of the way through the volume.
He brought her a beer and she nodded to the couch, following him, and then lowered herself smoothly to his lap with an arm draped across his shoulder to rest behind his neck, relaxing into a familiar and slightly possessive pose. She sighed against his chest and then kissed his neck with an ease suggesting she did this all the time, paying no attention to the reality of it being the first time.
She glanced at the TV. Her annoying déjà vu told her that under the TV, in the wooden cabinet, were two porno DVDs that he never watched. They were only played when friends gathered at his house for poker or to swap lies after a bike run or similar occasions. They were background and, though he probably didn't use the word, they were merely ambiance.
In fact, no one watched them even during those gatherings, being much too focused on each other and the fun of being with brothers.
She tipped her bottle of beer up and stared at the TV, trying desperately to figure out how she knew this. What could possibly hint to her from the rest of the room in such clear visuals, such a level of information about him and his personal life?
She didn’t know. It made no sense, but the DVDs were there. She was sure of it. The thought of now going over and finding those two DVDs actually in the cabinet below the TV terrified her. She didn't believe she could handle such precise evidence about their lives and how their lives belonged together. It was freaking her out, actually.
She looked back to him and saw the man she wanted to be with ten years from now. She blinked and pushed the vision away. She wanted to see Cole as he was right now. She wanted to learn about him on her own with no more previews or pressure -- and whatever God or brain tumor was fucking with her like this could fucking stop and let her be! Let them be!
"Where did you grow up?" she asked, going for something normal and safe.
Cole leaned a little back and seemed to relax more. Then he told her about growing up in Chicago and his childhood. He talked easily about it and seemed to view it as simply history, which had very little bearing on who and what he was today. Though he didn't deny that predicting this outcome, from knowing him at sixteen and some of his history, wouldn't be difficult.
After talking and passing the occasional kiss between them, he asked about her and she tried to be honest. She allowed the abusive stepfather to be shared, along with his attempts to seduce her and his violence when she didn't accept his advances.
As she talked, it felt like he was really listening, honestly interested, so she talked a little about running away, being on the street, going from city to city, developing the personal outlook over the course of a year that it was all the same. It all felt the same. Sure, this place had a Space needle and that place had a bridge, but people were people and, generally, living with them wasn't very much fun.
She left the prostitution out, as well as the call girl stuff. She felt like a real woman right now and that stuff was no longer the real her. She never wanted to be a whore. Never wished that when she grew up, she could suck cock for a grand a night.
This was not who she was. Yes, the money sounded good and yes, she started it and continued to do it of her own free will. And yes, she lived very well because of it. But it was all crap. Next to this moment right now, sitting in Cole's lap, drinking a beer, and talking with him – being listened to so fully by him – had in it far more wealth and shiny things. She felt so real right now, she was close to tears.
"You haven't been trying to get me into bed," she pointed out. Not as a challenge or a tease, but as a statement of fact that aroused her curiosity.
"I don't feel rushed and, besides, I'm enjoying this, though it is off sometimes… well, weird," he said, looking around the room.
"Weird? Good weird or bad weird?" she asked.
"The I'm not complaining, but I still don't understand kind of weird," he told her.
She bit her lip. Could he be experiencing the same things? If they were at her apartment right now instead of here, would he know where her Ben Wa balls were? Would he be able to find her DVD of lesbian porn -- which she watched with interest, though never with high enough arousal to get herself off during the show. It was basically just research.
Women are sexy. Period. Two women together showed a lot of sensuous body language. She regularly visited the high dollar strip clubs for the same reason: research. She wasn't using any of that research on Cole, she mused, playing with the idea of seducing him into bed. After all, didn't he deserve everything she could give him?
Well then doesn't he deserve the truth about his DVDs?