ALEXA

Damon’s body keeps me warm even though the blankets have slipped down. After I worked late, we stayed the night at my place so we could leave early for Syracuse, and I must be nervous about it, because it is highly unusual for me to be awake so early. It’s still dark out, and only the faint glow from the streetlights illuminates my room through a gap in the curtains. Damon is still fast asleep, curled towards me with one stump hidden beneath the pillow and the other tucked out of sight as his arm loops lightly around my waist.

He’s been to the barber’s. His beard is trimmed neat and his hair has been trimmed enough to be noticeable, but the chestnut mop of it still swishes to the side, just long enough to hang in his eyes should he choose to hide. Lightly sweeping it from his brow, I admire his handsome, relaxed face. His lips twitch a little to one side.

“Hey babe,” he mumbles, bending his head closer to kiss my hair. “Is it time to wake up?”

“No. Go back to sleep.”

Squinting at me in the dim light, he stretches his long body and settles onto his back. “Are you worried about the dishes? Because you should be. Mom’s good china isn’t allowed in the dishwasher, so we’ll be doing it all by hand and stump. And if you drop one, she will take three years to forgive you, but she will never really let you forget it.”

Giggling, I slot myself under his arm and rest my head on his shoulder. “You are an incurable doofus.”

“Sad isn’t it.”

“Not sad, no.”

To feel sad around Damon seems nearly impossible. If anything, his sense of humor makes me lighten up and relax. I’ve never really been one for jokes, but somehow he manages to make me feel goofy right along with him. It’s one of the oddest, most enjoyable things I’ve come to appreciate about our strange partnership.

“So you going to tell me why we’re awake?” he asks, leaning his head to the side so he can look down to my face on his shoulder.

“I might be nervous about the driving lesson.”

“Oh. Well I won’t let you hurt us. I’m not going to get you out on the highway on your first try. We’ll find some out of the way country road or abandoned parking lot to start with. Expressways and parallel parking will be lesson two.”

“Don’t joke about it. Your car is huge. What if I can’t reach the pedals?”

“It’ll be fine,” he says, wrapping his arm around me. “Pfft. Can’t reach the pedals? Leave imagining worst case scenarios to me. I’m better at it.”

“What?”

“Well if you’re going to make something sound bad, you’ll have to do better than pedals. Like... turning the key and the car exploding, or a baby in a pram rolling in front of you with no time to hit the brakes... and it explodes on impact.”

“Damon!”

Laughing, he kisses the top of my head. “There will be no exploding babies, Alexa. It will be fine. Worry about something else, like who Lara will be spending real Thanksgiving with and if he’s going to treat her right.”

“What kind of guy would be acceptable to you? And what does ‘treating her right’ entail?” I ask, curious to see if he describes himself.

“He should be kind, and honest, and gentle, but not a wimp, because Lara can be a bossy snot and she needs to be reminded sometimes that she’s not always right, or invincible - as she often claims to be. He should treat her as though she’s precious, but not in a way that prevents her from living the life she wants, and he probably needs to be pretty easy-going, because Lara is kind of uptight. She’ll want him to be handsome, but I think it’d be better if he believes she’s way out of his league, because he’ll try harder to please her every day for fear of losing her to someone else, and I think he should be a eunuch.”

Laughing, I smack his chest playfully. “You don’t think your sister deserves a man that can pleasure her with his cock?”

“Ew. What? No! There will be no cock anywhere near her.”

“I guess he could still make her come without his cock. You do it.”

Damon presses his stumps to his ears and starts singing, ‘la la la’, which only makes me laugh harder. Narrowing his eyes at me, Damon lowers his arms. “You’re mean.”

“You’re the one condemning your sister to a life without sexual pleasure!”

“Urgh! Please stop. I’m going to vomit.”

Giggling, I push myself up to sitting and pull down the shirt that’s ridden up over my bare hips. It’s Damon’s old soccer shirt that I’ve taken to sleeping in now. It’s not as though he fits it anymore. “I think maybe every woman deserves a lover dedicated to satisfying her needs and cherishing every part of her. Recent experience has taught me that it’s quite fulfilling.” Rubbing my eyes, I wait for them to adjust to the poor light again before looking down at Damon. “I think we’re both wide awake now. Should we just get up?”

“In a minute,” Damon says, sinking lower in the bed. Looping an arm behind my hips, he pulls me back down as he disappears below the covers. Within seconds, I’m panting and fisting my hands in his hair. Moaning into me, he pushes the back of my thighs higher, exposing me to him fully. Shocked at first, I forget all about it as his beard scuffs my skin and his tongue teases my sensitive flesh. Quivering as his tongue makes a pass over my tightest hole, I bite down on my bottom lip, because it feels so good.

A million thoughts battle for seniority in my brain; another man, my ass; but Damon sends them straight out again before they can take hold. He’s doing something to my clit that sends pleasure pulses lower, making me crave his cock. Unable to keep from moving against him, I meet resistance as he keeps me from the edge by giving me very little wiggle room. Again he nudges my clit to the point of aching need and then draws back.

We haven’t had actual sex since I told him the truth about my past, but I want nothing more than for him to be inside me right now.

“Damon?”

“No,” he says, his reply muffled by my rising hips as he sends more pleasurable pulses to my desperate core.

I’m about to argue, but he does it again and I lose my breath. Gasping as he does it again, I feel myself tipping slowly, and then all at once as his tongue slides through my crease and concentrates all its attention on my ass. Coming hard and long, I clench around nothing at all, but am unable to care anymore. I’m a quivering mess when Damon drags himself slowly upward, setting off aftershocks all the way as he delivers soft kisses to my belly.

“Now we can get up,” he says, throwing back the covers and rising from the bed. “I’ll be in the shower,” he says with a grin, “If you care to join me.”

I can’t keep from staring at his hefty erection as it points towards the door. Even now, I crave it. Wondering if he’ll let me have it in the shower, I push myself up, only to tremble and flop back down when my limbs refuse to support me. Looking helplessly across the room, I meet Damon’s amused eyes. “I’m not sure where my bones have gone.”

Chuckling happily to himself, Damon gives an approving nod and walks out the door.

***

“YOU’RE BEING VERY QUIET over there,” Damon says, making sideways glances at me as he keeps one eye on the road. “Are you still worried about driving? Or are you mad at me for refusing to have sex with you and you’re secretly plotting your revenge?”

“What?” I ask, pulled from my thoughts, but slow on the transition.

“I saw the way you were looking at my shorts when I went for my shower,” he says with a grin. “You were definitely planning on jumping me until you lost your bones.”

Feeling my cheeks heat, I look out the window. “I’m pleading the fifth.”

“Your blush says it all,” he says with a shrug. “I wasn’t trying to hurt your feelings. I just wanted it to be all for you. No reciprocation necessary.”

Nodding, I continue looking out the window. “I know that’s what you were doing.”

“Then why the silence?” he asks, his tone suddenly more serious.

I shrug this time. “Just working through some stuff.”

“Is it too private to share?” he asks quietly. “Should I turn on some music?”

Feeling my blush deepen, I clear my throat. “Um, what you did?”

“Yeah?” he says, trying to give me as much attention as he can whilst changing lanes on the highway and heading for an exit.

Working up my courage enough to create volume, I manage to squeak out, “It felt really good.”

Sitting up straighter as we move off the highway, I check for signs to tell me where we are. I don’t think we’ve been driving long enough to be anywhere near Syracuse, and there is definitely no city in sight. Cows yes, skyscrapers, no.

“Um... good?” Damon says with uncertainty. He makes a series of turns and after a short drive down a very quiet street, he pulls to a stop at the side of the road. Turning the car off, he shrugs out of his hooks and turns to face me. “It is good if it felt good. Isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” I agree with a nod, keeping my eyes low to avoid his. “It’s just that was a first, for me. That... that it might feel good to do that. I’m just trying to rearrange my thoughts to accept it, because I would never have said yes if you’d asked to, but I think I would now - but I don’t want you to. Ask, that is. I think it would make it less good. Somehow you kept it good even when bad things started to come into my head, because you wouldn’t let them stay, and I’m not sure how you do it, or what that means, but it makes me feel strong and I’m grateful,” I say, pausing for breath only briefly, because if I stop, I’ll lose my nerve. “I’m grateful that you have the power to turn a bad experience into something wonderful, and I hope that I can be brave enough to do other things too, so that all the bad stuff gets shoved aside to make way for the good.”

Raising my eyes just enough to see his face, I stop, afraid of looking him in the eye. Lifting his arm towards me, he stops, tucking the stump back under his other arm.

“Hold your chin high, Alexa.” His voice is warm and inviting, and even though he’s telling me what to do, he doesn’t make it sound like a demand. Raising my chin I meet his eyes. Soft around the edges, they shine with an infinite kindness which I feel undeserving of, but unable to pull away from.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” he whispers, leaning in. Before his lips can touch mine, he swears under his breath. His seatbelt is keeping him from reaching me. Pushing the release buttons on both our belts, I wrap my arms around his neck as he presses into me, his kiss as desperate as my own.

“I only want good for you, Alexa.” His words flutter over my cheek as his arms close around me. “You deserve only good. I’ll do my best to wipe away every terrible thing that ever happened. We’ll do it together. Just please keep talking to me.”

“I’ll try.” I do mean it, even though my mind is now focused on how he’s holding me, and how I didn’t flinch when he moved in and how I don’t want to pull away. It’s all new, or very, very old, maybe. The warmth of his embrace bears a resemblance to the hugs my father used to give me. Except I never felt Dad’s hugs in my fudgin’ uterus. Sniffing, I wipe my cheeks and laugh at myself a little.

“Are you... laughing?” Damon says, leaning back and looking at me sideways. “After our super serious moment?” he says, holding a stump to his chest in mock horror. “Now I need to know why,” he says, his eyes widening a little as if he’s had a funny thought of his own. Proving my theory correct, he starts laughing himself.

“Why are you laughing?” I ask, knowing it couldn’t be for the same reason as me.

“I can’t say. It’s inappropriate,” he says, leaning back against his headrest and laughing again.

“O-oh! Your inappropriate jokes are the best ones! Share!”

“This one crosses the line.”

“Tell me!”

Shaking his head, he leans forward and begins to put his hooks on. Instead of starting the car, he gets out and adjusts the seat so it’s all the way forward. “C’mon shorty. Switch seats.”

“What? No! I’m not ready.”

“What are you waiting for?” he says gesturing to the three far away houses, the empty fields and the clear stretch of road ahead of us. “This is the perfect place to take a first drive.”

Folding my arms, I stare out the windscreen. He’s right. Huffing out as I exhale, I open my door and walk around to stand next to him. “I’ll do it on one condition.”

“What condition?” he says, getting paler by the second as he tries to keep his hooks busy by making minor adjustments to the side mirror.

“Take your hooks off for a second.”

Immediately shrugging out of them, he sucks in a deep breath and the color starts to return to his cheeks. “That’s the condition?”

“No. I just didn’t want you to hurl before you tell me your inappropriate joke.”

“It’s not even funny anymore,” he says, looking suddenly guilty.

“Then forget me driving you anywhere. Wow,” I say, as if a wild thought has just occurred to me. “Imagine if I could drive sometimes so you wouldn’t have to dip your hands in acid or put up with itching!”

Squinting at me a moment, Damon strolls around to the passenger side and gets situated. Sitting in the driver’s seat, I try not to be overwhelmed by the dials and buttons and focus on Damon. “Joke.”

Eying me carefully, he folds his arms. “What were you laughing about?”

“My body telling me I was hungry. You?”

Exhaling roughly, Damon looks out the window. “You won’t like it. It’ll be all out of context and it was just a fleeting thought.”

“Try me.”

Sighing, Damon leans his head back and squeezes his eyes shut. “I was thinking that while I’m both flattered and pleased that you report being grateful for it, when the time comes for Thanksgiving family sharing about what you’re thankful for, it’d be best if you didn’t lead with me teasing your asshole.”

Snorting in disbelief, I nod and try my best not to laugh out loud. “You’re right. I shouldn’t lead with that one,” I say with as straight a face as possible. “I could slip it in toward the end maybe?”

Damon turns to me, grinning like a fool. “Slip it in toward the end?” Shaking his head, he quakes with silent laughter. “I love you so damn much.” Pulling on his belt, he gestures to mine. “Safety first. Then check that you can see in your mirrors properly. Did you notice you can reach the pedals?” he says with a grin.

Poking my tongue out at him, I follow his every instruction as he runs me through pre-start checks and explains exactly what I’ll need to do. Extremely patient, Damon just grins at me whenever I start to have reservations. “Get on with it, Carrington.”

Gritting my teeth, I run through the checks in my head and when I actually start pulling out onto the road, with my heart pounding in my ears, I’m so excited that we haven’t exploded that I scream.

Shocked at myself, I turn to Damon to see his reaction. Grinning even more than he was before, he braces himself against the car as if we might still explode and screams too. Turning my eyes back to the road as we inch along at a snail’s pace, I scream again, for fun this time.

“Faster!” Damon demands, lowering his window.

Easing my foot down on the gas, I bring us to a speedy thirty miles an hour as Damon holds his head out the window and howls. Laughing, I speed up a little more, then take my foot right off the gas and start panicking.

“There’s a corner coming up! What do I do?”

“Turn your wheel,” he says with a laugh as he motions with his arms. “You’ll need to give it a little gas if you want to make it around the corner by Christmas though. If you want to slow down, you can touch the brakes, but I don’t think you’ll have to worry.” Making himself comfortable, he pretends to doze off.

“Damon! At least keep your eyes open! What if I run your car through that fence?”

“Oh, you won’t want to do that,” he agrees, trying to keep from smiling as he pretends to get serious.

After turning the corner and traveling a ways at fifty miles an hour, Damon suggests I turn around and we get back on the highway. When I indicate and pull over close to where we started, put it in park and double check that the handbrake is on, I find Damon looking at me strangely.

“I’m not driving on the highway Damon!”

“Okay,” he says, nodding as he takes off his safety belt. “Judging by your savant-style ability to remember everything you need to do, I think you could, but if you don’t want to, I’m not going to push you to do it. You’ve done well. How do you feel?”

Taking off my seat belt, I take stock. “I feel good. Very good. And quite clever,” I add with a grin.

“Oh, you’re definitely clever,” he agrees, opening his door and stepping out. “Leave it running,” he says, before stretching tall. Hopping out, I’m practically dancing when I meet him in front of the car.

“Thank you for my lesson, Mr. Shermansky.”

“You’re welcome, young Alexa. Urgh. That makes me sound old and dodgy,” he says, wrapping his arms around me to return the enthusiastic hug I’m giving him. Kissing the top of my head, he moans a little.

“What?”

“Just thinking about a first I’d like to do with you some other time.”

“Why not now?” I ask, still buzzing from the drive. “I’m up for it.”

Groaning again, his arms tighten around me and my feet leave the ground. Next thing I know, the hood of the car is warm under my back and Damon is kissing me. His weight is pressing into me, particularly between my legs and the hum of the engine beneath us adds to the divine sensation growing within me. My breath quickens and I utter a small moan of my own as Damon’s arousal grows against me.

“Not yet,” he whispers, looking almost pained as he draws back. “Not here.”

I miss his heat instantly as he stands and offers me his arm. A bit miffed, I use it to pull myself up, straighten my clothes and nod. “Then please don’t do that again until you mean to follow through, you big tease!”

Chuckling a little, he shakes his head. “Would you like me to attend to your current needs Alexa?” he asks, taking a step towards me.

Taking a step back, I shake my head. “Not unless I can tend to yours,” I say, my voice wavering. “I don’t want to feel indebted to you.”

“Indebted? Seriously?” Damon runs his stumps over his face. “This isn’t some sort of trade system Alexa,” he cries, gesturing between us. “Consider me happy to oblige you at any time, free of charge. I need nothing in return. Except time, maybe. Your pleasure can’t just happen at the flick of a switch.”

“It happens pretty quick,” I argue, knowing he can get me off faster than I’d ever imagined possible before I met him. “I know you don’t need anything in return, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to give it, so suck it up.”

“Suck it up?” he says, advancing on me. Stopping just in front of me, he frowns, as if torn. Bending down, he kisses me gently on the lips, sucking my bottom lip into his mouth momentarily before releasing it. “You are too delicious for your own good, Alexa Carrington. When we start having sex again, I’m going to keep you very busy for a while, so you should prepare for that. Make sure you clear your schedule ahead of time.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?” I ask, moving behind the car door to put a barrier between us.

“Oh, it’s a promise,” Damon says, smiling to himself as he walks back around to the driver’s side. “It might take weeks. We might need to organize membership to somewhere that offers intimate delivery, just so we don’t starve.”

“Or we could just do it in the kitchen,” I suggest with a shrug.

Laughing, Damon dons his hooks and pulls back onto the road. “Now why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re weird? Or do you only do it in beds?”

“Not always,” he says defensively. “I did just suggest the hood of the car, remember?”

A small tremor runs through my body as I recall the heat and the vibration. Although he’d sort of pinned me with his body, Damon hadn’t freaked me out at all. Quite the opposite, actually. Looking out the window, I cross my legs. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Damon curses under his breath and then sighs. “It’s going to be a long, hard drive to Mom and Dad’s, Alexa.”

Turning back to eye the clock, I find we’ve been driving nearly two hours. “It’s only about half an hour more isn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Oh,” I reply with a smile as my eyes drift from his tense jaw to his crotch. “It might be a long, hard weekend.”

Breathing out roughly, Damon clears his throat and keeps his eyes straight ahead. “Or week, or month, or year.”

“A year?! Damon, I don’t think we’ll be able to hold out that long. In fact, I can’t even remember why we stopped.”

“Because you get confused by sex and think you need to use it as currency, and while I enjoy that currency immensely, I don’t want you to keep a tally, or feel as if you owe me for some pathological need to feel safe. I want to make you feel safe, but you owe me nothing for it. I’m trying to convince you that I genuinely care for you and enjoy your company, and I do not need you to pay me for mine.”

Folding my arms over my chest, I look out the window again. “I know you’re right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to manage this... feeling.”

“No,” he agrees, adjusting himself in his seat. “It doesn’t.”

***

“YOU GREW UP HERE?” I ask as Damon’s car creeps up the tree-lined driveway. Bursts of autumn color peek through the evergreens and the stark limbs of those trees already naked.

“Nah,” he says with a shrug. “We used to have a standard suburban three bedroom closer to town. The girls were so happy when I left for college and they didn’t have to share a room anymore - they’re not very similar. Mom and Dad shifted to this place shortly after my accident. Dad had always wanted a huge vegetable patch and Mom loves beautiful, old country houses. They used to take us for drives in the country, dreaming about the day they’d win some lottery to be able to live somewhere like this. I spent some time convalescing here, so it kind of feels like home, but it’s the people that make it that way, right?”

Nodding, I say nothing, because a rather grand country house has just become visible across a park-like lawn. Shrinking a little in my seat, I stare wide-eyed, pondering which Jane Austen novel it belongs in.

“Alexa?”

Damon’s voice is loud and tinged with concern, as if he’s been calling me for a while. Blinking, I realize I’m alone in the car and he is standing next to my open door.

“Sorry. What?”

Holding his elbow out, he nods for me to exit the car. “May I escort you to the front door?”

Unsure of why I agreed to come on this road trip to spend time with a family I don’t know, in a house made for grand people, I step out slowly, practically clinging to Damon once I loop my arm through his elbow.

“You don’t need to be scared, Alexa. We’re good people.”

My throat is tight, and I’m breathing too fast, but I nod and let him lead me up the path to the door.

A million thoughts run through my head as I try to imagine all of the possible interactions between myself and Damon and his family. Will he knock, or walk right in? Which one is better? Will it be warm, or too warm inside? Two of the chimneys are smoking, but maybe that means it’s cold. How will they be dressed? Looking down at my jeans and boots and coat, I try to remember what layers I have beneath.

“You look beautiful and I love you,” Damon says, kissing my temple as he helps me up the steps.

The front door opens before we can get close enough to knock and a pretty, middle-aged woman, with auburn hair several shades lighter than Kat’s, beams at us as she closes the distance and hugs us both at once.

“Hey Ma,” Damon says, and I can almost hear him rolling his eyes. “It’s nice to see you too. Happy fake Thanksgiving.”

“Oh shush, you,” she says, standing back and taking us in. “It’s so lovely to meet you in person, Alexa. Please, come in out of the cold. Damon will show you around. I take it the drive was alright?” she asks, not really waiting for an answer as she scrunches her nose at Damon. “At least there is less traffic on the road at fake Thanksgiving time, right?”

Chuckling, Damon drops his arm to the small of my back and ushers me inside. “Yes Mom.” Hanging his shoulder bag on one of the hooks inside the door, Damon shrugs out of his jacket and helps me out of mine before hanging them both.

“Sorry,” I say into the space between Damon and his Mom. “I, um... you have a very nice home, Mrs. Shermansky.”

“Thank you Alexa. Please don’t be overwhelmed by the house though. It’s Damon’s fault. We’re very simple people really. Please, call me Leigh.”

Nodding, I send a questioning look at Damon, but he just shrugs and smiles, turning away. I can’t keep my eyes from roaming the high ceilings, woodwork and paneled walls, and the warm creamy tones that accentuate the many paintings that fill the walls, not unlike Damon’s apartment. In fact, some of the paintings look to be Damon’s. Removing my boots, I notice Leigh is wearing jeans and a sweater, and I relax a little more.

“Do you have bags?” she asks, looking around us.

“I’ll get them later,” Damon says, nudging his shoes aside with one foot. “Where’s Dad?”

Damon’s Mom looks towards the grand oak staircase. “Last I saw, he was traipsing mud through the living room. He’s been sent upstairs to shower.”

“What is it this time?” Damon asks with a smile. “Mice in the shed?”

“Rabbits,” his mom says with a giggle. “In his veggie patch. He wants rid of them, but refuses to kill them. They’re liable to abandon the place soon though. He’s exposing the entire warren out of curiosity. Given them all names from Watership Down and everything. The man’s a worry.”

“Who’s a worry?” Coming downstairs, still drying his hair with a towel is a man that could be an older, darker-haired, beardless version of Damon. Pushing his glasses on, he moves the towel to one hand and offers me the other. “You must be Alexa,” he says with a grin, his scruffy hair all at wayward angles from rubbing it dry.

“Hi,” I manage to squeak, holding a plastered smile on my face as his hand engulfs mine.

“Glen,” he says, releasing my hand and leaving me wondering if Damon’s hands would be that big if he still had them. Shuddering, I step back ever so slightly to hide behind Damon as his father pulls him into a big warm man hug for big, warm, over-sized men.

Laughing a little, Leigh waits for them to finish hugging before tugging on her husband’s sleeve. Bending to kiss her, he’s held back as she shakes her head at him, and begins tidying his hair. “I don’t know what to do with you, Glen-jamin. Did you leave the bathroom in a right state?”

“Ah... no?” he says smoothly and clears his throat as he moves back towards the stairs. “Nice to meet you, Alexa. I... forgot something upstairs. I’ll see you later.”

When he disappears, we all laugh a little and Damon kisses his mom’s cheek. “The house already smells awesome, Ma. Where are the girls?”

“Harriet’s in the den, I think, and Dad’s going to get Lara from the airport in a few hours.”

“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” I offer, suddenly overly aware of the amazing smells of holiday cooking, and wondering if the Shermansky family kitchen is like the ones I’ve seen on TV in those happy holiday movies.

“You’re helping with dishes,” Damon interjects before his mom can say anything. “That means you’re exempt from other forms of helping. Come on,” he says, guiding me away. I look over my shoulder apologetically, but his mom just grins and waves before disappearing in the opposite direction.

Leading me through a series of halls and rooms, including one lined with bookshelves filled to bursting, Damon comes to a stop and holds a stump to his lips in a ‘sh’ kind of way. Quietly peering beyond him, I see a teenage girl wearing headphones, lounging in a bean bag with her back to us. Spinning a drumstick in one hand, her head bobs along to the music playing in her ears as her other hand holds an open book and her feet tap the floor.

Impressed that she could do so many things at once, I consider Damon briefly and guess that the ‘busy gene’ must run in the family. Damon’s head is moving to the beat of Harriet’s tapping feet. There is a clear rhythm to her movements and I find myself doing the same. Damon notices and grins, but we both turn back to Harriet when her movement catches our eye.

Tossing the book aside, she jumps up from the bean bag. Having grabbed her other drumstick from somewhere, she begins playing the air drums as she bops around in front of the huge picture window. Damon silently begins to make his own movements - only more pronounced and outrageous. Looking to be enjoying himself immensely, he invents comical moves with pure joy, inspiring me to join in. Soon we’re all three of us dancing to music only Harriet can hear and it is the most bizarre and goofy thing I can remember doing. Ever.

I forget sometimes that Damon was once a musician himself, so find myself almost surprised that he actually has rhythm, though his moves are highly unconventional and hilarious. As much as I try, I can’t match him for crazed seizure-like activity and soon fall back to classic, though equally impressive moves. It isn’t until we’re doing the twist and the swim that we jump around to find Harriet watching us with amusement.

“Hey guys. Great moves Damo, but I get the feeling your girlfriend could dance circles around ya,” she says, walking over the couch to get to us. Damon grabs her in a headlock and noogies her with his stump as she squeals.

“Haz, this is Alexa. And she could dance circles around everyone we know,” he says, pulling Harriet back upright and evading her lunging attempts to seek revenge. Harriet’s short, dark hair has become wild, revealing her striking similarity to her father.

“Hi Alexa!” she calls as she catapults herself off an armchair to land on Damon’s back. Locking her long legs around him, she tries to access his ticklish sides as he gallops around the room twisting and squirming to prevent it. Both of them end up in a giggling heap on the floor by the bean bag.

Looking up at me, Damon laughs and disentangles himself, pulling Harriet up after him. “Alexa doesn’t have any siblings,” he whispers loudly to Harriet. “I think we’ve scared her.”

“Well if she didn’t run screaming when she met you, I doubt I’ll bother her,” Harriet whispers back with a grin.

“Watch it squirt,” Damon says, pushing her so she falls back onto the bean bag.

Leaping over the couch, Damon whisks me out of the room. “C’mon, stunned mullet. I’ll take you on a tour.”