Chapter 7

Lillie

I was fighting my way out of a sound sleep, but I realized there was a body in the bed next to me. I was jerked awake and sat up, only to find Chris’ brown eyes on me. His hand closed the distance between us as he began to stroke my nipples. “Mmmm… that feels so good,” I murmured. “I wasn’t sure where I was when I woke up,” I added. “This is all…well… new to me.”

“You’d have a hard time proving that by me. Don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but I’ve never met anyone as sensually-inclined as you are. It’s like you’re from another time and an old soul.”

“An old soul? That’s flattering,” I joked, pinching his nipple.

“No, actually, it’s a good thing. It means you are wise beyond your years and have a certain ‘knowing’ that women your age haven’t learned yet.”

“Are you an old soul?”

“Me? No, not really. I’m maybe a little street-wise, but not an old soul. You can’t learn that; you’re born with it.”

“Hmm… well, this old soul needs a shower and a glass of cold water.”

Chris pointed to a doorway. “You’ll find both in there. Take your time. I’ll use one of the others and then make us a little breakfast and listen to the weather report.”

I nodded and hesitated.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled.

“Nothing. Well, okay, I’m just not used to walking naked in front of someone.”

“You’re joking, right?”

I shook my head.

“You ninny. Okay, I have no problem with it, so why don’t you let me grab something from the closet and I’ll get out of your way.”

I nodded. “Thanks for understanding.”

“No problem,” he answered but was chuckling as he grabbed jeans and a sweatshirt from his walk-in closet and left the room.

With a sigh of relief, I headed into the bathroom, turning on the waterfall shower that permitted me to dial in a degree of heat to the water. I had no idea what temperature I wanted, so I started with a hundred degrees and then dialed it up from there. Like so many modern things that had multiple adjustments, I got so busy with the adjusting that I missed the point of having the shower altogether. I also missed the sound that would have alerted me if I’d been paying attention.

I jumped as a hand entered the shower. I leapt backward into the corner, grabbing the towel I’d laid over the far bar and held it in front of me.

“You were serious, weren’t you?” came Chris’ voice.

“What do you mean?”

“You really are modest.”

“I was raised a good Catholic girl.”

The door slid open and a naked Chris stood there, fully erect. Without an invitation, he stepped into the oversized shower with me, pumping soap from the dispenser as he entered. He came toward me, his hands soapy and reaching toward my breasts. He plucked the towel from my frightened hands and stood back to look at me fully. “Gorgeous,” he said with appreciation and I was momentarily relieved I’d shaved my armpits the day before.

“You don’t own any roadside motels, do you?” I asked teasingly, but maybe not entirely.

Chris mimicked the music from Psycho and raised his hand in a slicing motion. I shrieked in a half playful, half terrified way and he laughed heartily, his arms wrapping around me.

My face was even with his nipples and I playfully bit one. He reciprocated by lifting me off my feet and pulling one of my nipples into his mouth in a sucking motion.

“I want you, again,” he growled.

“I know, I can feel it,” I admitted and peeked downward at his manhood that was swollen and probing my pussy gateway.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, and I admit, I didn’t want to argue. I did as he asked, and he held me with one hand as he pushed my legs around his waist. I felt him enter me low. He was holding me and now pushed me downward; I was impaled on him. Despite the squeaky soap clean, I was still moist enough with my own juices to allow me to slide up and down on him. The picture flashed through my mind of a weightlifter, doing his workout and I giggled.

“You find this funny, do you?” he mock threatened me and withdrew, putting me down.

I instantly retaliated by kneeling and pulling his penis downward into my mouth. I could taste his saltiness while the raining showerhead saturated my eyes and nostrils with a steady stream of hot water. Chris’ knees bent to accommodate my lower height and suddenly, we were both on the floor of the shower. My mouth was sucking on his penis and his was sucking at my pussy. He’d spread my legs so that I was practically sitting on his face. We were caught in this tropical world where only the two of us existed and I felt the quickening begin as his mouth explored my tunnel. I knew he was holding back, so as I peaked, he allowed himself to do likewise. The result was two squirming bodies in a cooling shower that was beginning to feel chilled.

Chris’ hand hit the shower selector and the water ceased instantly, leaving us lying atop one another in a now cooling, tiled space. He regretfully stood up and in a swishing movement, wrapped me in a huge, heated towel and laid me on the bed. He dressed with calm movements, watching me all the while as I laid huddled under the towel and blankets.

“Shy, huh?” he snickered and left the room, closing the door firmly behind himself. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes—be there,” I heard him call to me as he retreated down the hall.

I scrambled for my clothes which were somewhat worse for wear. I used the hairdryer and a brush I found in the vanity drawer. Somehow, I reassembled a fairly presentable version of myself and fairly skipped down the hallway toward the inviting aroma of freshly-brewed coffee.

We were just sitting down to a plate of scrambled eggs and croissants when there was a soft bell ring near the door. Chris pulled out his phone and tapped. “Chris?” came a voice through the intercom he’d triggered.

“Good morning, brother. What brings you out so early?” Chris answered.

“Early? Damn, Chris, it’s after noon.”

“Oh, well, it was a late night. Come on up.”

My mouth dropped open and I scrambled off the stool at the breakfast bar. “Coming up? Oh, geez, let me get back to the bedroom,” I choked and hurriedly gathered my dishes and placed them in the sink.

“Woah, hold on there. Where are you going?”

I shook my head in amazement. “Your brother,” I whispered furiously. “He’s on his way up!”

“I know.”

“Well, don’t you want me out of the way?”

“Nope. I want you to pick your dishes back up out of the sink and come sit here and finish your breakfast like a grown-up. He’s my brother, not the Pope,” Chris chastised me. I saw the sense in what he said and quickly complied just as the elevator arrival ding signaled that our guest had arrived.

Chris rose and hugged his brother. “Lillie, I’d like you to meet my brother, Corey. Corey, this is Lillie.”

Corey only regarded me with a glance and I wasn’t sure I liked that dismissive attitude. How many women has he met?

Corey had come for a purpose, it seemed, and it had to do with his wife, whose name was apparently Daphne.

“Corey, if it’s the same old gripes, don’t want to hear it,” Chris began, loading a fork filled with scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“I had to get out for a while. She’s relentless. She asks where I’m going, when I’ll be back, who will I see, what we’ll be doing…you don’t know what it’s like, man.”

“Told you before. You’re the one who wanted to get married. Not my thing, man.”

“But Chris… she wasn’t like this when I married her,” Corey complained.

“People change, Bro. You’ve done your share of that, too, you know. You used to come over to brag what a wonderful girlfriend you had and that I was such a fool to stay alone. Sounds like you’ve changed your tune.”

“Don’t give me any more shit, man. I’m going through enough of it as it is.”

“What’s Marga hearing?”

I was eating quietly, intent on the drama being played out before me. Not having any siblings, this sort of relationship was all new to me.

“I mean, are the two of you carrying on in front of her? Can she hear you fighting?”

“Don’t guilt me again, Chris. I do my best, but it’s like Daphne waits until Marga is nearby and then she lets loose. She knows I’ll hold back if Marga can overhear us.”

Chris glowered at his eggs. I felt sorry for the eggs, and for whomever Marga was.

“We talked about this,” Chris warned.

“Hey, get off my back.”

“Hey, you! Now, we were sitting here quietly enjoying a late breakfast when you barged in without calling and bitching about a woman I happen to think is pretty great. It’s not all on her, Corey. There are always two sides to the story.”

“Yeah, yeah… well, she started this and no one can blame me for getting tired of it.

“I can,” Chris pointed out, a stern and meaningful look sent out in Corey’s direction. Corey understood the look, evidently, because he shut up, went to the kitchen cupboard and grabbed a mug and poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Thanks for nothing, big Bro,” Corey said sarcastically, and punched the button to summon the elevator. He left with Chris’ mug in his hand.

When the elevator swished closed and Corey was gone, Chris released a big sigh. “God, but he’s dramatic. He keeps coming to me with the same old story, over and over. I’ve tried to get them to a marriage therapist, but he makes excuses not to go. It’s their daughter, my niece, Marga, that I’m worried about. I don’t think this is all fair to her.”

I listened quietly. I really had no experience in this department so anything I’d say would sound hollow. “How old is Marga?” I tried to break the mood.

“She’s ten. A real sweetheart. If I ever had kids, I’d want them to be like Marga. She’s bright, inquisitive—actually, a little like you. She’s another old soul.”

I nodded, hoping that was a compliment. He seemed to read the look on my face. “Don’t worry,” he said quickly, “that’s a good thing.”

I sighed and dumped the remainder of my coffee into the sink. I knew I had to deal with my car and it was cold outside. Cold and liquids always made me have to head to a ladies’ room, so I was limiting my liquids. “Why don’t I call a taxi to take me back to my car?”

“No need,” Chris said summarily, rising and setting his dishes in the sink. “Your car is all defrosted and sitting in the garage here, next to mine.”

“Really? How did you manage that?” I asked.

“Told you I’d take care of it.”

I stuttered a little in a good way, “Well, well, yes, you did, but…”

“You thought I was full of shit, right? Admit it,” he laughed and I joined in. It seemed we understood one another very well.

“Okay, so, I’ll be leaving. I’ve got tons to do,” I said and went in search of my coat.

“Here,” Chris said, and I turned to see him holding out his phone. “Put in your contact information. I want to see you again…soon,” he finished.

I knew his promise was hollow, but I went ahead and put in my phone number – but the one to the house. It would be disconnected in another week and that way, I could fight my disappointment when I never heard from him again. I could tell myself that it was because of the phone, and not because he never called as promised. I handed it back.

“Come here, you,” Chris invited, holding out his arms. I went to him and I could feel hot tears rising in my eyes. I knew it was good-bye but I wanted to leave feeling as though there was still a chance. I folded myself into his arms and wrapped myself around his body.

“Thank you for dinner… and for…well, you know…” I tried to get out, but Chris cut me off, his mouth coming down hard on my own.

When at last he broke away, he put his index finger on my lips. “You be a good girl now or Santa won’t bring you any toys, you hear?”

I nodded and turned, grabbed my bag and coat and tapped the elevator call button without looking behind me. I didn’t say good-bye and I looked at the floor. It just hurt too badly to do anything else.