ALEXA

“You’ve been staring out that window for the last twenty miles. What are you thinking about?” Damon asks, pulling me back to the present. Turning to him I smile and shake my head.

“I’ve had a really nice time this weekend, Damon. Thank you for sharing your family with me.”

“No problem,” he says, pulling a goofy face at me. “I’m sure you realize they’re your family too now. I mean, Mom literally said so at least six times over the two day period. Four of them since breakfast. I hope that didn’t scare you.”

Shaking my head, I laugh quietly to myself. “I like her. Of course, I’ve never met a librarian I didn’t like. Kind of like you and strippers, huh?” I add with a giggle, watching his cheeks turn pink. “I liked them all. Even your Dad - despite his big hands. I can’t believe you thought Lara was into dudes, though. Too hilarious.” Shaking my head, I look out the window again, still not really seeing anything I look at.

“So that’s what you’re thinking about? My blindness and my likable family?” he asks, stealing the occasional glance at me as he watches the surrounding traffic.

“Amongst other things.”

“Such as?”

“Such as whether we’ll spend tonight together, and where we’ll sleep, and what we might do before we close our eyes, and how it will feel, and if I should guide you, or let you feel your way. Also I was wondering if I remembered to take my clothes out of the washer, and if I didn’t, who would have found them, and what kind of message that person might leave on my noticeboard.”

“We can sleep wherever you want and whatever we do will feel amazing, because even when you think you’re not, you’re guiding me. Every movement, every breath, every achingly quiet noise you make lets me know exactly where you need me, and I’m very eager to please. Now tell me more about this laundry dilemma. What will the message say if Bruno finds your clothes?”

Laughing a little, I shrug. “Maybe... ‘Lex, the washer is not your hamper’,” I say in a deep, gruff voice. “But my laundry will be waiting just inside my door, dry and immaculately folded.”

Nodding, Damon grins. “That sounds like him alright. What if Scarlett finds it?”

“If Scar found it, she’d leave it wet in a basket and write ‘Lex, your shit is still in the laundry’.”

“What about Kat?”

Sighing, I roll my eyes. “Kat would dry it, fold it and leave it on my bed whilst leaving no message at all, because she’s always doing everything for everybody without seeking recognition.”

“Hmm,” Damon says, thinking about that. “What if... Natalia found it?”

Smiling at the way Damon says her name with an attempted Estonian accent, I shrug. “You never can tell with Nat. She comes across as almost emotionless, but she’s quite efficient, so I would think maybe she’d dry it, throw it in a basket and put the basket in my room for me to fold later. And her note would be worded strangely, like... ‘Lex, you forgot to wash’, but there would be an x or two at the end, because really she is also very sweet.”

“I bet you didn’t even leave your clothes in the laundry, but now I can’t wait to find out if you did. Do you think living with ten, I mean nine, other people makes everyday activities become more interesting?”

“Sometimes,” I reply with a smile.

“What if it was me that found your laundry?” he asks, a mischievous smile tugging up one corner of his mouth.

“In this scenario are you one of my roommates, or are you a visitor who is snooping for racy delicates because this particular laundry room belongs to an apartment full of strippers?”

Chuckling, Damon checks his rear view and indicates to change lanes. “In this scenario I’m a roommate that is very attracted to you.”

“Well in that case... I think my laundry would go missing and your note would read ‘I emptied your drawers and closet as well.’”

Laughing, he nods. “That does sound like something I might do.”

Smiling, I lean my head back and watch his sure movements as he maneuvers the car through traffic. “I’d be awfully cold though. Winter’s well on its way, so it’d be a bit mean to steal all of my clothes. You’re not a cruel person.”

“I’d make sure you were kept warm,” he says with a wink. “I’ll show you how in... approximately seventeen minutes, depending on traffic and red lights,” he says after glancing at the clock on the dash.

Shivering in my seat, I catch him smiling at me and when I raise my eyebrows in question, his smile widens. “I’ll warm you up real soon, Alexa.” He says it in such a way that I believe he knows I’m not shivering from cold. Shivering again, I look out the window and try not to blush.

As soon as we’re upstairs, Damon picks me up and carries me to my room. Pausing outside my door, he looks at the noticeboard.

‘Lex, I’ll trade you. One laundry service for one night on dinner,’ it says. No name accompanies the message. Damon looks to me in question.

“Benji found my clothes,” I tell him as we open the door to find a tidy pile of clean clothes on my desk. Nodding, Damon shuts the door with his foot and sets me on the bed. I stand there a moment as he just looks at me. Then he nods, takes a step closer, brushes my loose hair over my shoulder and leans in to kiss my neck.

“This is better,” I whisper, tilting my head to allow him more access. “Isn’t this better?”

“Which bit?” he replies in a husky voice as his beard grazes my sensitive skin and he breathes me in.

“You touching me. Me trusting you. It’s better,” I say between breaths as they come closer together.

“Mmm,” he agrees, his lips busy again. “Can I try something?”

My breath quickens again as the tip of Damon’s tongue traces the collar of my t-shirt. “Try what?”

“It might not work, because I haven’t had much practice and I’m actually not that good at doing it to myself, but could I maybe try to undress you?” he asks, leaning back to check my expression.

Taking a second to collect my thoughts from where his tongue has scattered them to, I look down at what I’m wearing and then look at his clothes. Unbuttoning my jeans, I meet his eyes and hold my arms up. The look of pure delight in his eyes is enough to make me forget about anyone who may have taken my clothes off in the past. This is different.

Wrapping his arms around my waist, Damon presses his lips to mine in that sweet, gentle way he has. His no-hands brush over my stomach and travel up my sides, taking my t-shirt with them. It feels similar, but not the same as hands when he touches me. There is warmth and a certain excitement at his touch, but never any trailing fingers, or grabbing, or pointed stroking that puts too much pressure anywhere. Damon’s touch is even and measured and... wonderful.

Working my t-shirt higher, Damon’s eyes seem to calculate every move he needs to make before he makes it and faint lines of determination crease his brow. I can’t help but feel lucky at having found such an adorable, understanding man. My view of his handsome face becomes obscured by my t-shirt and a sense of urgency rises within me as the need to see him again defies rational thought.

The neck of my t-shirt catches on my nose and I giggle as Damon tugs too lightly to pull it free. Next thing I know, his lips are on mine, and he’s teasing me with his tongue. Still trapped in my shirt, I giggle again and he moans.

“You keep giggling like that, I’ll leave you blindfolded,” he threatens, nipping at my bottom lip. A tremor of excitement runs through me at the thought and I marvel at how far I’ve come since meeting Damon. He’s taught me trust. Previously, the thought of being restrained or having my senses hindered in anyway would invoke a fear response, but all I feel with him is desire. A blatant need to have him near me, around me, in me.

“Don’t think I missed that little reaction,” Damon whispers against my lips, making the thrill inside gain momentum. “We’ll return to blindfolds once we have touching under control,” he continues, nudging my t-shirt up over my nose. “Touching is very new and I need to see your eyes to be sure you’re okay with things,” he says, coming into view. Leaning in, I let him know I understand by kissing the tip of his nose.

“I quite like being the tall one,” I say with a smile as he raises my t-shirt over my head, but can’t quite reach to remove it completely. Lowering my arms over his head, I kiss him and pull my arms back, leaving the shirt to fall to the ground behind him.

With my breasts now staring him in the face, Damon nods. “I quite like you up there too,” he agrees, reaching for me. “But I’ve been imagining this next bit for a while now, and I need you lower,” he says, pressing me to him before touching my toes to the floor.

Before I can miss the feeling of his body against me, Damon has moved behind me, kissing down my neck and along my shoulder. Taking the strap of my bra between his teeth, he drags it off my shoulder, leaving me shivering from the scuff of his beard. Moving back the other way, he sweeps my hair aside and incites every one of my tiny hairs to stand on end as he lightly grazes my skin. In contrast to his rough beard, his soft lips warm me with the landing of each tiny kiss that marks the trail across my shoulders.

Using his teeth again, he drags the other strap down in a slow, purposeful movement used only to tease. Kissing back up my neck, he stays behind me as he runs his no-hands over my shoulders and down my arms, hooking my bra straps along the way. Pulling them down, he takes my bra south, kissing the length of my spine as he descends with it.

It catches at the top of my jeans and Damon pushes them all down together. Standing on them when they reach the floor, Damon pulls me to him and lifts me free. His arousal is hard against my backside and I have the sudden thought that he might bend me over and take me. Surprised that the thought doesn’t completely freak me out, I reach behind to feel him through his pants.

Clearing his throat, he bends and collects me in his arms. “The pants stay on,” he says firmly, and again I wonder if he’s instructing himself as much as telling me as he lowers me to my bed. “This is touch 101. My dick has no place in this class.”

Giggling a little, I raise an eyebrow at him. “Won’t he feel left out?”

Damon gives me a sly smile and shakes his head. “He’s already attended this class and now he has to wait for the advanced classes, which won’t happen until the current 101 class graduates.”

“What will it take to graduate?”

“Your pleasure at my hand. My no-hand,” he corrects, shaking his head at himself. “You know what I mean,” he says with a shrug as his mouth encircles my nipple, making me gasp.

“What if I fail?” I ask breathlessly, as the old fears begin gnawing at the edge of my resolve.

My nipple falls from his mouth as he looks up at me. “Then we’ll revise the curriculum and try again with a different strategy. We only fail if we give up, Alexa.” Nuzzling my skin as he slides up my body, his face comes to a stop above mine. “Will we try?” he asks softly.

Sucking my bottom lip into my mouth, I take a deep breath and nod, relaxing as I exhale. Damon’s eyes sparkle and drop to my lips. Kissing me quickly, he sits up and pulls his own shirt over his head. “Then let’s get learning.”

***

DISAPPOINTMENT IS DISHEARTENING, but the flip-side of not coming after several very close attempts, is that the urge to try again has only been amplified. We study several times daily - math, touch, even history to find out triggers in order to work around them, all to no avail. Craving the climax that never seems to come, I’m nearing the line of abandoning the 101 class altogether to focus all my efforts on seducing Damon to use other means to stop the endless aching need inside of me. Unfortunately, his resolve never weakens and his patience never wavers. Despite having a near-constant erection, he refuses to give up on me.

In trying a different strategy, Damon has also started guiding my hands over my body, hoping I’ll ‘reclaim it’ or something, and I have to say, when he’s with me, it doesn’t disturb me in the least. He’s suggested maybe I try and ‘study on my own’ a little to see if it actually still bothers me, but I’m not brave enough for that yet.

I try to dance all this frustration out in the club, and although my sexual tension has led to an increase in my earnings, it’s done little to help my predicament. In fact it leaves me horny as hell with no outlet.

Finally, on Wednesday night, after a particularly frustrating dance set at the club, we get the right combination of touch with a new strategy and Damon blows my mind with a double-whammy orgasm that leaves me limp and useless. I suggest we celebrate by getting rid of his boner, but he just shakes his head and pulls me in close to snuggle. I have come to realize that he sees my counter offers as part of the ‘trade system’ I’ve grown up with, but I honestly just want to make him feel as good as he makes me feel.

Waking first, I take the opportunity to watch Damon sleep. Lying on his back, his arm has been my pillow in the night and as I rise up, I take the covers with me, revealing his muscular frame and the waistband of his boxers. I wonder if he’s waiting for us to start having sex again before he’ll sleep naked with me, or if he’ll always wear boxers to bed.

It’s real Thanksgiving, and it seems the perfect day to implement the plan I’ve been building in my head since our discussion about firsts; both having them, and redoing some of the bad ones. Keeping an eye on his face to see if he wakes, I slip my hand under the waistband of his boxers. Inching slowly downward to keep from waking him just yet, I find him hard with morning wood and smile to myself. Easing myself lower with care, I pull down the band of his shorts and take him into my mouth.

Damon’s eyes fly open and he half sits up as he looks to my face. The mixture of expressions on his face would be funny if I wasn’t working so hard to keep my lips wrapped around him. Taking him deeper and then letting him nearly escape, I keep my eyes on his. His initial shock eases and a look of intense hunger replaces it, only to be shoved aside by a more worried expression.

“Alexa, you don’t have to do this,” he says, his voice straining as I take him deeper again. He’s saying it because he knows what I’ve been through, but this is different. I’m choosing this. I’ll show him it’s different.

I let him slide out and flick the end of his velvety knob with my tongue. “I know I don’t have to,” I respond, licking him again and loving the way his abs tense when I do it. “I want to.”

Taking him in again, I revel in the sound of his breath catching. Running my hand up his taut stomach, I push him lightly and he eases back to lean on his elbows, not taking his eyes off me. The look of love in his eyes is almost too intense to bear, but I refuse to look away because there is some unspoken thing between us that tells me he needs to see me. It’s as if he feels he might need to swoop in and rescue me if it gets too much.

The only time he breaks eye contact is when I increase suction and he blinks long and hard as a deep moan escapes his lip. “Alexa?”

“Mm?”

“I - mmm fuck,” he says, his body tensing. “I’m going to come real soon,” he says through his teeth as he resists his release. “I know you don’t want to swallow, so you should - shit, you should stop,” he says breathlessly. “Now,” he adds with urgency as I feel him tensing between my lips.

Pulling back, I watch him shoot his load up his stomach as his head falls back in ecstasy. Very pleased with myself, not only that I just made that happen, but also because I enjoyed it, I reach for the tissues with a smile.

Still breathing hard, Damon lies back, his eyes never leaving mine as I clean him up. Those eyes hold a world of love and adoration. He opens his mouth to say something and I shake my head.

“Don’t say it,” I warn him as I toss the tissues away. “I don’t need to hear it. This isn’t some sort of trade system where you have to tell me that when I please you,” I say with a mocking smile as I curl up against him.

“I wasn’t going to say that I love you,” he says in a completely unbelievable tone.

“Oh no?”

“I was going to say... I love Thanksgiving.”

Giggling, I kiss his chest. “Sure you were, Shermansky.” Sighing, I reach across him for my phone to check the time. “Fudge it! Speaking of Thanksgiving, we need to get up! We’re due at the soup kitchen in twenty minutes to help with prep.”

“What?” he says, rubbing his face and groaning. “I was about to breakfast between your thighs!”

Snorting, I jump out of bed and slip into my robe, laughing when he frowns harder as I tie it shut. “If I don’t get to exchange pleasure when I want, then you don’t either. It’s toast and coffee for breakfast this morning, stud.” Twirling the end of my robe ties at him, I leave to put the kettle on.

***

INITIALLY APPEARING quite shy, Damon soon gets over his self-consciousness as the mammoth task of making Thanksgiving dinner for hundreds of hungry mouths takes precedence. Flashing his friendly grin about the place and cracking a few jokes has him easily accepted into the support crew in no time, regardless of his lack of hands. No chore seems beyond him, despite his unique situation, and I can’t help but admire his outlook on life and his ability to think around any obstacle to figure out his own way of solving problems.

My mind goes back to his unconventional, but totally hot way of removing of my clothes. I blush when he catches me staring at him, and he grins. Giving me a wink, he has a blush of his own as he disappears out to the seating area with another box of decorations under one arm and a stack of table cloths tossed over his other shoulder. Turning back to the hired heating cabinets, I open a door and quickly put in the tray of roasted vegetables I’ve just removed from the oven before they can get any colder.

When it comes time for the first round of seating, I keep an eye out for Sam and Larry. Catching sight of my old hat in the crowd, I wait for Sam to get up to the front where I’m pouring gravy by the bread rolls at the end of the line. Making my way around the serving tables, I pull Sam into a huge hug.

“I haven’t seen you this week! Are you okay? Where’s Larry?”

“Cool your jets before your guy there gets all jealous,” she says, half smiling as she disentangles herself from my arms. Looking over my shoulder, I see Damon approaching with another tray of rolls to add to the bread basket. Recognizing Sam, his smile widens and he nods hello. Sam acknowledges him in her stoic way by raising her eyebrows in a brief suggestion of a greeting and ignores him by turning back to me.

“You look good Lex. Are you, ya know,” she nods towards Damon’s back as he’s returning to the kitchen. “Good? Things going okay?”

“Better than okay,” I say, unable to keep from smiling. “Tell me about you. And Larry,” I add, scanning the faces for his.

“I’m doin’ just fine, as you can see. Hungry, though,” she says, eying the food and inhaling with pleasure. Larry’s got something he wanted to check on, but he’ll be by later,” she adds in a distracted tone as she scans the crowd too. “I’m gonna eat. You get back to your gravy and I’ll catch you later. Maybe much later,” she says, looking at the crowd. “You’re busy today. Love ya, Lex.” Kissing my cheek, she makes her way through the crowd to join the queue on the other side of the hall.

I see her again as she comes past the gravy and rolls. Blowing me a kiss, she disappears into the crowd again and I lose sight of her.

“I’m sure you’ll see her again soon,” Damon says, kissing my head after he fills the bread basket again. His apron has water marks all over it and he has a dishtowel over his shoulder now.

“I know. I just miss her face sometimes. I haven’t seen Larry yet either,” I say, ladling gravy over a few more meals and smiling at the way Damon winks at one of the kids following their mom. The kid's eyes go wide when he sees Damon has no hands, but Damon just leans in with a grin and whispers that he was in a rush and forgot to put them on this morning. The kid looks at him funny, but then shrugs and smiles as he moves along.

Nudging Damon away with my elbow, I shake my head at him and smile. “Do you ever run out of ideas?”

“Never,” he says with a grin as he bends to whisper in my ear. “I know you secretly like my unorthodox ways Alexa Carrington, and I plan on sharing some very unorthodox ideas with you later.”

Feeling my cheeks flame at the suggestion, I smile at the woman across the serving table and mutter some excuse about the heat back here. Damon chuckles to himself and nudges me playfully as he lingers.

“Don’t you have some dishes to wash or something?” I ask, scanning the crowd again. He says something back, but I don’t hear it. Dropping my ladle in the gravy, I duck beneath the table, my heart pounding.

“Alexa?” Damon drops to his knee in front of me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” he asks, his eyes scanning the crowd for threats. “What did you see? Who?”

The name tastes black in my mouth and I dry retch. Damon reaches out to touch me and I cringe, making him withdraw rapidly. “Kyle,” I utter, retching again. “He’s here.”

Scanning the crowd again, Damon’s voice loses all softness. “What does he look like?”

Breathing too quickly, I close my eyes and focus on the floor beneath me, grounding myself. “Tall, dirty blond hair, blue eyes, clean shaven, green scarf, brow-”

“Got him.” Standing up, Damon does something at the serving table and tells the person on the other side to help themselves because he left his hands in the kitchen. Meg, the woman serving carrots next to me bends over in concern.

“You feeling okay Lex?”

I can’t even speak, and Damon gestures for her to just keep serving, because ‘I need a quick break’. Bending down, he holds his arm out to me. “I’ll take you out back,” he says, but all I can do is blink at him.

Kyle has found me. He wouldn’t have tracked me down if he was going to let me go. He’s going to get me back. I look at Damon, guilty and ashamed that I’ve put him at risk by taking a chance on him before my life was safe enough to do it. Struck by the thought that Damon might beat Kyle in a fight, a new chill of fear rises from the base of my spine as I get flashes of my dad being pulled into a police cruiser and taken away from me as I’m held back, never able to reach him again.

“Alexa, it’ll be okay,” Damon says, his voice more tender than ever before. “I’m here and I’ll keep you safe. He can’t hurt you anymore. Come with me now. We can call the police in the kitchen.” Staring at him, my body remains frozen. Looking beyond the tables again, Damon curses under his breath and stands tall so I can only see his legs. The whole situation becomes surreal as I’m flooded with the countless views I’ve seen from under tables. How many times have I hidden under tables in my life? In cupboards, under beds, always hiding until I learned to run. I should run now, but I can’t. Not until the coast is clear. The sound of voices keeps me rooted to the spot as my body prepares itself to spring into action.

“Nice - all you can eat gravy. Wasn’t there a little blonde chick up here before?”

“She left,” Damon says without emotion.

“Where’d she go?” Kyle asks casually, as if out of curiosity. “She was cute,” he whispers and I notice Damon step forward slightly.

“I hope you’re not referring to my friend,” Damon say in a warning tone. “She doesn’t need any guys who think she’s cute.”

“Whatever, dude. Oh shit - what happened to your hands?”

“I ran with scissors,” Damon growls in response as if barely in control.

“You what?” Kyle says with a laugh. “How would you lose your hands like that? You’ve got that soldier-y look about you. Which war did you lose them in?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Man, who let you out front to serve. It’s meant to be a happy holiday, not the grumpy, old veteran interface program. You should go back to washing up and get the blond back out front.”

“Move along, you’re holding up the line,” Damon says in a cool, detached tone before welcoming the next person warmly. With his few snarled words fading, I know that Kyle is moving away.

Damon continues chatting with people a while longer, maintaining his position. Eventually, he takes a step back, but doesn’t bend down as he talks to me. “Alexa, in a minute, you’re going to come out from under there and stand directly in front of me. Then we’re going to slowly and calmly walk back to the kitchen, where we’re going to call the police and report that man for anything he has done in the past and his current stalking of you. Then I’m going to take you home. Do you think you can manage that?” he says quietly, but sternly. “Because I don’t want to draw attention to you by carrying you out of here.”

Those are the words that convince me to move. If Kyle spots me, I don’t know what will ensue, but if I can leave unnoticed, I’ll be free to run.