The Trophy Case

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Chapter Three

He woke first and tried not to move. This is rather like trying not to think of an elephant when someone challenges you not to think of an elephant. So naturally he woke her up. She smiled at him, got up and padded off to the bathroom. Seeing her naked in the full light of day he started worrying about how he was going to hide his erection and make it to the bathroom when she was done. He solved it by putting his pants on.

“I just moved in,” she said. “The electric tooth brush is new, I’ve only used the red brush head, so you can use the yellow or the green.”

“I thought you were that type.”

“What type?”

“The kid who grabbed all the red lollipops and left the green and yellow ones.”

“Very true. In point of fact I am an extremely spoiled brat, and fully expect to remain one.”

She walked out of the bath in a sheer silk robe that, given she was standing in front of a morning sunshine bright window hid nothing.

When he came out of the bathroom she was on her knees in the kitchen cursing a blue streak.

“It’s too early to give a fuck,” he said, “and I just heard a few.”

“I had it all planned,” she said. “A nice brunch, and now I can’t find anything big enough to make the orange juice.”

“First time you’ve lived alone?”

“One week today.”

“Understandable lack of coping skills. Frozen orange juice is four to one, so put four tablespoons in a big glass, add a cup of water and stir.”

“Wow.”

“Hold it,” he said, finally catching the drift of what was going on. “Ribs in the slow cooker, brunch planned? Mandatory health club? Was I set up?”

“Well, you see, ah… I did mention the spoiled brat thing, didn’t I? I didn’t want to seem forward, but I did want you, not half as much as I want you now, but still. So, I went to the real power at Katar: Katie, Arlette and Alexandra. They told me what to do. So, yah, I guess you could say you were set up. Mind?”

“Incredibly flattered. Girls don’t make fusses over me, and now the prettiest girl I’ve ever met is really making up for that.”

She reached up and undid his pants. “Short girls do have some advantages,” she said as she stood up and forced him back out into the living room, once again tripping him on the couch. She opened up her robe, got just the tip in and reprised her whipping technique with one foot on the floor. He only survived the first freefall.

“Enough of a fuss for you?”

“Heavy enough for you?”

“I guess we have to deal with that,” she said. “On a full stomach. I’m making Eggs Benedict, and I’ve got sweet rolls. Since you’re the orange juice engineer, make us a couple mimosas. Champagne and triple sec are in the liquor cabinet over there,” she pointed and turned back into the kitchen.

Ever since Albert Finney and Joyce Redman proved eating was sexy in Tom Jones, eating became, well… sexy. Brunch following a suitably amorous night, and morning was sort of gilding the lily.

“Okay,” she said, “dealing with it. I think you’re sweet, clever and so sexy I feel like a sixteen-year-old with her first crush. We are really good together and I want that to continue. However, realize I am a spoiled brat and I expect enough commitment out of you that if I sneak up on you I don’t expect to find you in bed with someone else. I am not always this sweet, and compliant, and expect you to take the good with the bad. Will you move in here?”

“Not yet. You haven’t learned to live alone yet, and you need that. Everybody does, and I’m not certain that once we move in together you will ever get the opportunity again. Enough commitment? How about I pledge to spoil you rotten to the best of my ability?”

“You won’t move in?” she said.

“I didn’t say that. I said not yet. “

“Then when?”

“As soon as you don’t need me to.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense. When I move in with you I’ll want it to be permanent. That means both of us committed to the long haul. Not because one of us needs something immediate, but because we’ve taken care of ourselves and can make it alone, we just don’t want to.”

She started to cry, at least visibly as a tear fell down her cheek. “You either love me or you’re the World’s worst playboy. That’s so good I actually believe it. I admit it, being alone scares me.”

He walked around the table, picked her up when she stood, walked over to the Lazy boy, sat and pulled the lever, throwing her back against him.

“Well, I love you.” He said and was about to go further when she stuck her tongue in his mouth, this lead eventually to his stroking the back of her pelvic bone and an orgasm.

“You love me,” she said, “which is very convenient as I decided I loved you yesterday. Still won’t move in?”

“No, but I think we can do something else. After we shower put on something you can take on and off easily, a quick stop at my place, need a shirt, and then Valley Fair.”

At Valley Fair, Silicon Valley’s super mall, which was once two already large Malls, they proceeded to dress one another. One or two outfits for every eventuality. Then the Lancombe counter to replicate her cosmetics, and he bought her Idylle perfume and cologne at Guerlain, allowing her to pick his fragrance, she chose Vetiver.

Evie’s Apple Works carried the full line of Fredericks of Hollywood, which he had to talk her into over Victoria’s Secret.

“Fredericks’ shows more anatomy,” he whispered, “it’s only for women with the anatomy to back it up.”

She just blushed and walked into Evie’s.

Finally, the mundane purchases at Walgreen’s, razors, deodorant, everyday things. He even bought an electric toothbrush to match hers. She was beginning to get an idea, but you could still color her confused as they got in the car.

“So,” he said,” did you plan dinner?”

“Was planning on being bad enough to be sent to bed without any,” she answered.

“That’ll never do. We have to get all the way through Sunday. With what we both have in mind, we’ll need the strength of good nutrition. So, your place first.”

She finally tumbled to it all when he stopped her from carrying in her share of the day’s loot. They spent almost an hour putting his stuff in two dresser drawers, the closet and the bathroom. Well there were a lot of things going on at the time.

Then they went to Nob Hill market. He preferred it because, while not a bargain store, it was owned out of Gilroy and got the best of Santa Clara Valley and Gilroy to Watsonville provisions. He picked up lettuce, some salad greens, gorgonzola, two rib steaks (Gilroy Black Angus), and a cheese board with some grapes, an apple and a pear.

Then they distributed her home away from home.

He made a salad, both gorgonzola and balsamic dressings and grilled the steaks on his grill on the balcony. And she realized why Darwin preferred the hunters. A man cooking for you was just so damn sensual.

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