Fade In

by Mabie, M.

  This situation is so absurd that I can help but laugh. I'm half drunk, half naked. He's fully sober and totally nude. It is the things that sitcoms are made of.

  “So why didn't you wear underwear?”

  “I was at the gym down the street. That's why I was close. I forgot a clean pair so I just didn't wear any after I took a shower. I sort of forgot. I didn't know!” He's laughing now too and peeking at me over his left side.

  Using his line and tweaking it for good measure, I ask, “Will you turn around for me, Benny.” I am by no means sobered up. Let's be clear. But I'm not yawning anymore.

  The muscles in his back are almost are just as lean and defined as his front. And Ben's butt is white like it's never seen the sun in its existence. Two perfectly white cheeks flex as he thinks about his next move. I clearly have the upper hand.

  “If I turn around, then we go one more round. That's only fair. You can't quit. Deal?” he wagers.

  “Deal.”

  He slowly turns around and he has his hands covering himself. Both hands. Inside, my mind is screaming, Jump this fine motherfucker! Somehow, even through my tipsy state, I remain cool and calm. It's so funny how, in just a few seconds, if you add a naked man to the equation, this game is fun again.

  “Okay. Ask your question,” he says, looking anywhere, but at me. I want to toy with him, but I’m having a hard time thinking about what to do.

  “Ben, I'm over here.”

  “I know where you are, Tatum. I just can't look at you or this will get a lot more awkward.”

  Then it hits me. He's trying not to seem like a major pervert. And for no good reason, too. I would have had sex with him on the floor in the closet. Still, I can't resist messing with him.

  “Benny. Look at me,” I say in a softer voice, fully aware of what I'm about to get myself into. Or at least I'm trying like hell to get myself into.

  “All right, but you've still got to go one more round. Remember?” His voice gains its weight back, and he's not the only one aware of their arousal.

  “I remember.” My brain stalls. There are so many things I want to ask him, but now I can't think of any of them. All I can think about is his hands on my body and touching him.

  “What's your question, Tatum?” I can see that his self-control is dangling like a carrot in front of him, and if I push him even the tiniest bit, he'll lose it. That's exactly what I want.

  His hands still cradle the only surprise he has left. He's reading my face and knows I'm not going to back down. It's like a sexual Mexican standoff in my bedroom.

  I want him. I go for broke.

  “Do you want to know what I taste like?”

  He swallows and his jaw flexes before he says, “Yes.” Determination flares in his eyes and his body tenses.

  His hands drop.

  My eyes follow.

  “Are you sure you're ready for this? When I come over there, no more shutting me out. No more hiding from me. We're in this together,” he states, offering me one last chance to back down.

  I thought we were just going to have sex. He's hard as a rock and dead serious. I've never met a man who wanted some form, even the smallest, of commitment before getting it on.

  Still, I can't deny that it's what I want too. I nod my agreement.

  Before I can process what I've just gotten myself into, he's here. Standing directly in front of me.

  “Are you going to ask me what your show is?” Ben asks me in a breathy voice. He skirts around my neck, never touching me, but I can feel him so close.

  “Do you want me to take this off?” I pull away so I can see his face.

  “No. I'm going to enjoy taking it of myself.”

  He walks me backwards to my dresser that sits against the wall. It hits me on the ass and I stop, unable to go any farther. He dips down low to his knees and moves both hands under the pink gown, bringing it up with him as he slides his hands up my smooth legs.

  He looks up at me with hooded eye and smiles. “Sit up there, baby.”

  Climbing onto the chest, I sit back just enough so that my feet dangle, not touching the floor. He kisses one leg up to my knee and then the other, taking his time to play fair with them, all the while stroking and caressing my tempered skin, higher and higher

  He hasn't even touched my center and I feel like I'm going to detonate the second he does. It's been a while, and it was never like this. I can't think of a time in my life when a lover took this much tender care of me.

  I lean back on my hands to steady myself and lay my back against the mirror. Every light kiss Ben places on my body ramps up my excitement. Trying to remain quiet, I press my lips together so that I don't make a fool out of myself. A needy moan still makes it past my throat, but it only encourages him.

  “Relaxed up there?”

  “Yes.” I open my eyes, not realizing that I closed them, and look down to see something that I hope stays ingrained in my memory for the rest of my life—Ben’s face between my legs, smiling up at me.

  He's worked the skirt of my pajamas all the way up to my waist, and it is now wadded up on my lap. Ben stands for only a second and lifts me with one arm, pulling the pink silk out from under my ass. Working both sides, he raises it over my head and throws it across the room. His mouth hits mine, and I finally let out the sounds I've been poorly trying to stifle.

  He moves his hands to my breasts and cups them, adding only more urgency to our kiss, and my entire body is on fire. I can feel a pulsing between my legs, and I know it will only abate one way.

  He moves his mouth lower and takes a tight nipple inside, lightly playing with it between his teeth. The sensational mix of almost discomfort and pure pleasure has my fingernails raking the dresser's wood top.

  Letting my breast fall away from his hot mouth, he whispers, “You like that, don't you?”

  I hum compliance.

  I'm torn between watching this man's head as he kisses and worships my body all the way down and just laying my head back and dedicating this moment to only the feeling. I steal a glance down and he's looking me over like a map. He stretches my legs wider and opens drawers on either side, placing a foot up high in each one. With me spread like this before him, I feel so at peace knowing that he'll take care of everything.

  “Baby, you're so wet. I haven't even touched you.” He runs his thumb up the crease of me before he sticks it in his mouth for his taste. He doesn't say anything. Moving towards me, he runs his tongue the same route as his thumb did only seconds before.

  I can feel my thighs beginning to shake from having my feet held steady in their places. Leaning back so that I don't need my arms for support, I move my hands to his head.

  “Tell me what you like, Tatum,” he says between long laps at my sex. “I want to know your secrets, baby. Tell me.”

  “Lick my...” And he's already there, making the most heavenly circles on my clit with his firm tongue. “Yeah,” I breathe.

  I run my fingers through his hair and encouraging the pressure that I crave. My legs finally do twitch, and my stomach is following suit. I'm getting closer when one long finger slides into me.

  It doesn't fumble around, looking for the spot. It just gets there. With Ben's mouth working at a master’s pace, his one talented finger becomes two and I come.

  “Ben. Ben. Ben.” I chant his name so many times that I sound like a scratched CD. He doesn't stop, only slowing until I catch my breath. My body withers onto the hard walnut furniture I am perched on.

  Ben stands, his fingers never completely leaving me, pulling every last ounce from me. He erotically purrs into my ear, “I don't know what’s sweeter, baby. The way you taste or hearing you say name when you come. I've been waiting so long for both. Stand up,” he croons.

  I inch myself closer to the edge of the dresser and stretch my toes out to find stable footing. He seizes me to him in a tight hold.

  “Turn around.”

  I oblige, and between his arms, which are caging me in clos
e to the dresser, I turn to face myself and him in the mirror that hangs on top. I'm flushed and rosy. Ben looks so collected, but I can feel how much he's affected with how close he's standing to me.

  “Look at you, Tatum.” I meet his eyes in the reflection before us. “Not at me at you.” His hand turns my chin ever so slightly, and then I'm face to face with a girl who looks like me.

  She's familiar.

  She looks alive.

  Ben crosses his hands across my chest and takes one breast in each hand. He works them in every direction and lifts them a little in his grasp.

  “Look at your face. You're cheeks are red. Your lips are swollen.” My head looks away from the mirror and rolls onto his chest. The feeling of his naked body and mine pressed together warms me from the inside out. “I see you in there.” His words break though. He places light kisses on my neck.

  “I have a game we can play. It's called We're Both Naked So Let's Be Quiet.” My request is met with happy laugh from behind me. When he smiles, I feel he cheeks move against my hair.

  “You're so mouthy.”

  “Will you stay?” Behind my smartass comments is always something more. I don’t want him to leave.

  “Yeah. I'll stay.”

  He fetches my pretty pajamas, and I watch him tend to me in the mirror. He attentively opens the pink fabric so that he can easily slip it over my head in one clean motion.

  We lie in my bed together talking for hours. We talk about things and places we want to visit, and I confide in him that I'm afraid I will miss out.

  He softly runs a light hand up and down my back. “There's time, baby. We'll make time,” he says as he kisses my neck just before I fall into the most restful sleep wrapped up in a perfect man.

  I wake to the smell of coffee and bacon. I stretch, feeling really great. I pad sock-less towards the kitchen, listening to the sizzle coming from the pan and a cappella singing.

  Ben still shirtless and his day-two jeans ride low, dragging on the floor under his bare feet as he cooks. His earbuds run down his back to his phone, which is tucked into his back pocket. The tempo must be building in the song because he taps the fork he's using to flip the meat against the rim of the pan.

  He's jamming.

  I wait to hear something familiar and that’s when he belts, “Ooh, forgot my woman, lost my friends. Things I'd done and where I've been.” I know it's Alice and I smile.

  I examine everything, not wanting to miss a single element, and catalogue it away for another day. The aroma of breakfast. The sight of him in my kitchen making breakfast, my presence unknown. He's in his own world.

  I watch the sinew and pull of each of the muscles in his back flex as he shakes his ass and dances quietly, his hair messy and sticking up all over the place.

  It's perfection. It's a dream come true. How did I not know about this? Where did I irresponsibly pass the exit sign that read “Sexy, dancing, shirtless man making breakfast”? I've had years and years to find and experience this feeling. It’s ironic that now I realize how lovely it is to open my eyes and appreciate what's in front of them.

  The Ben Show goes on and on. I slide down to sit, my back against the hallway wall, and pull my knees into myself. It's too good to interrupt.

  He gets two mugs from the cabinet and pours them full. He doctors them carefully and turns the burners off, plating the food. I am aware that my PG-rated peep show is coming to an end. A little saddened by that, I know that the coming interaction will be a nice Band-Aid.

  I don't want to startle him when his hands are full, so I walk up to him and kiss the center of his back. He takes a long breath and pulls the buds from his ears.

  I hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Hi there. I was trying to be quiet.”

  “You were. I woke up on my own.” I keep kissing him, each one land on freckles that I make a note of to map out later. He smells delicious, and I would rather just have him for breakfast.

  “What are your plans for the day?” he asks. “I have an idea.”

  My lips are reluctant to stop pecking his flesh.

  “I like this. Let's do this today.” I rain kisses on him, hoping I'll get my way.

  “Mmmm. That sounds nice, but I have a better idea. Let's eat.” He's up to something.

  We eat at the breakfast bar, and I patiently wait for the announcements of our big plans.

  “Last night you said something and I've been thinking about it every since.” His face brightens. “Let's go. Let's go on a trip. We can drive, we can fly, or we can take a train. I don't really care. Let's map it out. Pick a few places and just leave.”

  I wasn't expecting this. My thoughts were a lot more in line with hiding out here all day and playing What Can I Put Here and What Goes in There.

  He's ambitious, this one.

  “Like where? For how long?”

  “I don't know and what does it matter? What do you have going on in the next few weeks?” His head cocks to one side and waits for the answer he already knows.

  “Nothing really. The only thing I have to be here for is Winnie's bachelorette party, but that isn't for a few weeks. You already know all that.” The idea of running off sounds too good to be true.

  “Where is one place you want to go? First reaction. Go.”

  “New Orleans.” I'm not sure why that pops out. I've never been and have always wanted to go, but it doesn't seem like a first-choice type of place.

  Smiling, Ben says, “Yeah, I like that.” He gets up and runs to the office, returning with paper and pen. “Where else?”

  “The Keys. I guess.” His enthusiasm sweeps me along for a minute before a practical inner voice tells me to hold up. “This is crazy. We can't go to all of these places.”

  “Why the fuck not, Tatum? What are we waiting for? We have plenty of time. We have plenty of money. We just have to go. So what are you waiting for? Now, where else?” He's insane, but it sounds so fun. “Just give me two more,” he says, scribbling notes, already planning things to see.

  “Are you serious? This is crazy, Ben”

  “I'm dead serious. Let's do it. We can leave in the morning for wherever. We'll be back in plenty of time to get everything lined out for Winnie, and when we get back, we'll do all of the stuff your doctor said. But first, we do this. Now.” He angles the end of the point at my face. “No waiting.”

  I think about it. It's spontaneous. My heart races. I haven't felt like this for years.

  Free.

  Alive.

  “Where do you want to go?” I ask Ben. “It's your trip too. Oh, wait. You have work. You should probably suck up to your boss so she'll let you off. You don't want to get fired.”

  “I'll work on her in a little while.” He taps the pen against his lips. “I've always wanted to go to Seattle, the Northwest. See the big trees in Northern California. Go to the Goonies house.” He laughs.

  “I want to do that too. That's on the list.”

  “Where else? One more.” He looks like a younger, less serious version of himself, and I'm loving the change. He's always been fun and easy to be with, but this feels different. This feels honest. This is right.

  “No. That's all. That's what I want to do.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about a few things.” This is the Ben I'm use to. Rules-and-parameters Ben. If I'm being honest, I'll take him either way.

  “You're such a buzzkill.” I crunch down on the last piece of bacon that's on Ben's plate and wait to hear the guidelines for our adventure.

  “All right. First, no boss-employee stuff.” Ben looks to me for approval and to see if I'm on board with the idea.

  “I like it,” I quickly agree, deciding to put my own stamp on the rules. “I have one.”

  Ben wasn't expecting that, so I have his attention. Wide-eyed, he looks at me. I know he may not exactly like what I'm about to ask of him.

  I request, “I want you to relax and just be you. I'll just be me.”

  “Deal. You have to tell me wh
at you want the whole time. No matter what it is. Anytime, anywhere. If you want something, just say it. If you want to leave, if you want to go somewhere else, just say so. This is your trip.”

  As much as I like the idea of a trip just for me, I feel a little guilty. I want him to think of it as his trip, too. “Deal, as long as you do the same thing. We share the trip.” It's compromise.

  “What do you mean?” he asks, like he's the most oblivious person on the planet.

  “You have to live by your rules. If you want me to tell you stuff, then you have to tell me too.”

  “That's fair enough.” He smiles, and I can see the excitement in this pretty green eyes.

  “Shit. I need to pack. You said we're leaving tomorrow morning? Where are we going first?”

  “Get your laptop. Where do you want to go first?” he asks, and I know he doesn't care one way or another.

  I retrieve my computer and open it up, forgetting that I was surfing some less than PG sites the other night. I blush. “Shut up. It's totally normal.”

  He just shakes his head and takes possession of it. “You said New Orleans.” His lightning-fast fingers type, and within minutes, he says, “That works. We could fly there and then fly into San Francisco, drive up the coast, see the trees, and then check out Seattle for a few days. We can fly from there to the Keys and stay a while before we come back home.” He faces me after unleashing his loose agenda for approval with eager eyes.

  “God. How in the fuck were you not a personal assistant? Were you a travel agent in a former life?” I nudge his shoulder and chuckle. “I'm cool with all of that. I trust you. Ah! I can't believe we're going to do this. I seriously need to pack.”

  “Yeah, me too. I might run home and get my stuff ready. Do you want to come with me?”

  I never realized that I haven't been to Ben's place. Now that I've been invited, I can’t wait to see what it looks like.

  “Yes. Let me get dressed. I can take a cab back in a while and get ready. This is fun.” I loudly clap my hands together and rub them against one another like a crazed villain, wagging my eyebrows. “I'll get to see all your stuff.”