by Jane Charles
Ellen bends, her nose practically touching her knee, pointing her toe, arms raised in back, curved in an arch, her fingers pointed. She’s also the most limber woman I’ve ever seen and my cock begins to ache. Damn. Now is not the time to be lusting after her, but I’d sure like to sweep her up and toss her on the bed right now and kiss every inch of her from head to those delicately pointed toes.
She turns her head, looks in the mirror and freezes. Her face turning a lovely shade of pink. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough.” I grin. “I could get used to this being the first thing I see in the morning.
She looks away as if embarrassed and stands.
“I didn’t know you danced.”
Ellen grabs a towel and wipes the back of her neck. I hadn’t even noticed she was sweating, not that things like that bother me.
“I did, a long time ago. Now, it’s my form of exercise.” She releases the bun and shakes out her hair. “I’m going to grab a shower and then we can decide what we’re going to do.”
She’s just going to walk away, as if I didn’t watch something spectacular. Then again, it might be best or I’d be stripping her right now. Damn that dancing was hot. Does she do that every day and how can I arrange to be present?
I hear the shower from the bathroom off the room she had planned on sleeping in. I could use one too and drain my coffee before heading to the other bathroom.
Ellen
Why is he awake? I thought for sure he’d sleep a lot later. I know he didn’t fall asleep right away. A few times I woke up and could tell he wasn’t asleep yet, so I assumed he’d sleep the morning away. Otherwise, I would have never put on my leotard and danced. Now he knows how skinny I am and that I don’t possess any boobs.
Shit. He’ll never have sex with me now. Sometimes I feel like I’m built more like a boy than a girl. If I cut my hair the right style and wore men’s clothing, nobody would ever guess I wasn’t a guy.
I’ll just have to remove that image from his mind and dress in a way that he doesn’t forget I’m all female. There has to be something in the closet. I didn’t take all my clothes when I packed.
After wrapping a towel around my damp hair, I pull another one around my body and step into the bedroom. Gabe is standing just at the door, a towel about his hips, his body wet from his shower. My mouth goes dry. Damn he’s hot and those muscles. There isn’t an ounce of excess on that body and he’s toned from biceps to the six pack. Damn! I want that and I want it badly.
“Sorry,” he says quickly. “Just wanted to grab my clothes.” He snatches up the slacks and shirt he wore last night and ducks back out of the room, closing the door behind him and I sink down onto the bed.
Well, he sure got out of here fast. We’ll never have sex if he runs from the sight of me in a towel.
It’s probably better I figured it out now before I became more invested. We’ll just have fun in New York for a few days and then go back. A girl can’t have too many friends anyway.
Gabe – 10
Damn! She’s going to be the death of me. Sleeping with her last night, after my stupid suggestion, dancing in the skin-tight leotard and now, damp, fresh from the shower and only wearing a towel.
I’m only so strong.
I know she isn’t asking me to fuck her, she hasn’t done anything so blatant, but that’s all my body wants to do.
Maybe I should take another shower, a very, very cold one. But she’ll wonder why I need a second one in ten minutes. That, I’m not about to explain, especially since I was trying to do the right thing last night by telling her we weren’t going to have sex until we knew each other better.
I’m such a dumb shit. We could be in bed right now, enjoying and getting to know each other on a much more pleasant level. But, I wanted to do the right thing.
“Respect!” I can hear my mom’s voice as if she’s standing right next to me. Always respect the girls. “It doesn’t matter how they dress or act, or even look at you. Respect. Treat them right and they will do the same to you.”
“Yes, Mother,” I answer to the empty room and get dressed while wondering if my hard on will ever go away.
After refilling my coffee and grabbing the morning paper, I head into the living room to wait for Ellen.
She comes out a few minutes later, hair dry, a little bit of makeup, not that she needs any, and wearing a full and colorful skirt, large blouse and faded jacket. It looks like something Alexia, one of Baxter’s art teachers, would wear. Not that I mind the look on Ellen, I just prefer her in shorter skirts so I can see those fantastic legs.
“So, what do you want to do today?”
“Shopping?” That is what we talked about.
“Well, that won’t take long.”
“Breakfast would be nice.” I’m starving this morning. Then again, it is about nine. I normally would have eaten two hours ago.
“So, breakfast, shopping, and then what?” She grabs her bag by the front door
I just shrug. “This is your town. You tell me.”
“Let’s figure it out while we eat. I know the perfect place.”
I’m so glad she picked a real diner and not a trendy café that believes a bagel is a filling breakfast. I’ve got nothing against bagels, but I’m an eggs and bacon kind of guy. That’s not my breakfast during the week, which usually consists of cold cereal, but on the weekend or on vacation, I like my eggs and meat.
“You’ve been here before, right?” She asks before taking a bit of her omelet.
“The city? A few times.”
“So, what did you do?”
I have to think back. It’s been awhile. “Dad’s taken me to Yankee Stadium and Madison Square Garden.”
“That’s not surprising.” She rolls her eyes.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Am I supposed to be insulted?
“You’re a jock. I’d be shocked if you hadn’t been there.”
So, I’m not exactly insulted.
“Where else?”
“Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, Central Park, Times Square, Coney Island. Places like that.”
She’s put her fork down and is just staring at me.
“What?”
“Metropolitan Museum of Art?”
“No.”
“Metropolitan Opera?”
“Nope.”
“Carnegie Hall, Lincoln Center, New York City Ballet?”
“None of those.”
She’s just shaking her head, as if I’m suddenly a major disappointment.
“Yet, you work at Baxter Academy of Arts.”
When she puts it that way, I kind of get it.
“We’re going to get you some culture before they fire your ass.”
“Hey, I saw a musical last night,” I quickly remind her.
Ellen just shakes her head and looks to heaven as if seeking guidance before taking a drink of her coffee.
Ellen
The two of us could not be any more different if we tried. We have nothing, absolutely nothing in common.
At least he likes to read.
If he hates the places I named, this could turn out to be his worst visit to New York. Sure, he hit all the touristy stuff, but not of the arts. It’s the main reason I picked this city, over all the others, when I had to vacate Nevada. Plus, you can’t really get much further away without leaving the country.
Gabe pays for our breakfast and stands. “So, where’s the best place to shop?”
I grin up at him. Maybe it doesn’t matter that we have nothing in common. It’ll be fun discovering each other’s passions. “Soho.” There are more great places to shop in this city than I could possible count, but I like Soho the best.
He holds out his hand. I take it, and we head off for the subway. He’s still limping but at least not as bad as yesterday, but what will all the walking, riding the subway and taking the stairs in and out of it do to him.
“Are you always in pain?�
�
He blinks over at me. “Not really, this is a fluke. I slipped on a wet floor Tuesday and twisted it a bit. It just needs time.”
“Like sitting with the leg up and iced time?” This is a bad idea. He needs to rest his leg, not walking all over the place.
He shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal. If I rested each time there was a little problem with my knee, I’d never get off of the couch.”
I stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “Let’s take a taxi.”
Her turns and sighs. “That isn’t necessary.”
“I’m going to be dragging your ass all over the place today,” I warn him. “By the time the day is over, you’re going to wish we took one.”
He just shakes his head. “Fine.”
“You do have a very fine ass, Gabe Kent.”
He glances up at looks at me in the mirror and grins. “Funny, I’ve had similar thoughts about you.”
My face heats and I have to look away from his gaze. Not only is his ass fine, but every inch of him. And, no matter what I pick out for him to try on, he looks hot as hell. I don’t think he could look bad if he tried.
We could have finished shopping after the first hour, but I can’t resist going into one shop after another, picking out things for him to try on and model for me just so I can watch. I haven’t told him that, of course.
“You know, I have enough clothes to stay here a month. I don’t need any more.” He calls from the dressing room.
“You can never have too many clothes.”
I hear him snort. “A girl can’t have too many clothes. A guy just needs some jeans, slacks and a few shirts.”
“Oh, you are so wrong,” I say as he comes back out carrying the items he had tried on. “Besides, when is the last time you bought anything new?”
He shrugs. “Last spring. Before I started at Baxter.”
“Then it’s way past time you had new things.”
He just laughs and holds up a pair of jeans and shirt. “But this is it. No more shopping. Let’s do something else.”
He’s right. “Let’s take these back and dump them at the apartment and then head out for our next adventure.”
I’m fine with what I’m wearing but I make Gabe change into something new. He’s got to want to get out of the clothes he’s been wearing for two days. I wander around the living room, stopping at the long windows and stare out at the river.
“What should we do next?” I mutter to myself. Reaching for my bag, I pull out my phone to check hours and what performances are available for tonight and accidentally grab the new burner phone. For a moment, while we were shopping, I’d forgotten the real reason I needed to come to New York. To get lost for a bit. But I couldn’t be happier that I’m getting lost with Gabe.
I toss the burner back into the bag and grab my iPhone and find an events calendar.
“Hey, did you know the Yankees and the Mets are playing each other?” I call down the hall.
Gabe saunters out wearing faded jeans that hug his hips perfectly and they’re a little loose, the way I like them. I hate when guys wear pants that are too tight. His white casual shirt is open at the collar and my mouth goes dry.
“Those tickets will be impossible to get. Even if they have some, I can’t imagine the cost.”
“I’ll get them. You endured shopping so it’s only fair I take you to a game.”
He laughs and pulls me into his arms. “I thought this was about me getting some culture.”
I thread my fingers through his hair, still amazed at the softness. “I can culturize you tomorrow.”
“I don’t need a game. Let’s do the next thing on your list.”
“List?”
“I’m assuming you made one.”
Actually I didn’t. I was just about the check on what we could do. But, since it’s the middle of the day, there is only a few options. “Okay then, we’re off to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.”
Gabe gives me a quick kiss, then drops his arms and steps back. “Lead on.” He gestures to the door.
Damn, I could have stayed in his arms by the windows a bit longer. Okay, a lot longer. Hell, I’d be fine not leaving the apartment and instead spend time getting to know Gabe better and figure out where this is going. I’ve never felt like this about a guy before. At least never this quickly. It’s like something deep inside of me recognizes that he’s special. I’m afraid to let go, or even blink, afraid it might disappear.
I’ve never been a romantic. Frankly, I don’t believe in romantic love, but I may be changing my mind. There are forces at work here that I can’t begin to comprehend.
Gabe – 11
So, this is the Museum of Art. I’d heard about it. I just never got a chance to visit. In fact, I don’t think I’ve been to the city since the summer before my sophomore year of college. And, all my trips were with my family. Had I even suggested coming here, Dad would have had me either seeing a psychologist to make sure I wasn’t gay or had gone soft, or knocked me upside the head. No, when we came to the city, these are the places mom and my sister went, while Dad and I did “manly” things. He’s such a douche.
“Oh, we’re going to have to come back this summer.”
Ellen’s looking at pamphlet she picked up at the visitor’s counter. “Why?”
“They’re going to have Van Gogh’s Irises and Roses.”
I’ve heard of Van Gogh, of course, but I couldn’t pick out his work. My students could though.
Why the hell did Baxter hire me? Even if I only teach English and writing, you think they’d want someone more artistically minded.
“Since we are here now, where to?”
She doesn’t answer but strolls into a gallery, holding my hand. This is nice. We’re not in a hurry to do anything, just simply being with each other, looking at paintings, photographs, and sculptures. I’m beginning to tell how Ellen feels about a piece of art just by her expression, before she says anything. A soft smile and lightening of her eyes, means it’s something she loves and appreciates. An odd quirk to the corner of her mouth and eyebrows drawn together, means she’s perplexed by the piece and not sure if she gets it. Some, she barely glances at, as if they don’t hold her interest. But, when she stops and stares, frowning, I know she really dislikes a piece. I’m not sure if I’m spending more time looking at Ellen or the art.
I glance at my phone as we exit an exhibit. It’s going on four. Hell, we’ve been here, walking around, for three hours. I had no idea that much time had gone by. No wonder my knee and leg are killing me. And, I’m getting hungry. I could go without food and I don’t want to stop her because I’m loving this. Just spending time with her, learning about the different artists because she knows a ton about the work in this place and has a greater appreciation for it than I’d anticipated. I’m having fun just learning all kinds of things about her. But, if I don’t sit for a bit, my knee may give out.
“Is there a place we could get a drink?” I don’t want to tell her I have to rest the leg. She’ll insist we leave and go back to the apartment. She seems more concerned with my leg than me half the time anyway. But, Ellen is enjoying herself too much, she loves it here and I’m not about to leave before the place closes.
“Sure.” She smiles. “There’s a café. Let’s rest a bit.” She glances at her phone. “They’re only open for another half hour or so, so we’ll have to hurry.”
She turns in the opposite direction. Ellen knows this place so well that she doesn’t even consult a map. I’m not sure I could find my way back to the entrance without one.
“I’m thirsty anyway.”
We decide just to get a drink and relax, and I try not to sigh after we get a table and sit, but it feels good to be off my leg. After the waitress takes our orders and returns with a beer for me and glass of wine for Ellen, she turns to me, elbows on the table. “So, tell me about yourself.”
It takes me aback. We’ve been together, almost non-stop, since we met. Of course, that was
only a few days ago.
“I know your father’s a dick. Your words, not mine, since I haven’t met him, but what about the rest of your family?”
“Let me see, my mom is great, dad not so much. I have a younger sister.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-one. She plays soccer for the University of Rochester.”
“So, it’s okay for your sister to play soccer.”
I laugh. “It’s a girly sport, you know.”
She rolls her eyes. I’d like Ellen to meet mom and my sister, but I doubt she’ll ever meet my dad.
“Catholic family,” I add. “If possible, my mother would have had eleven disciples after me and my sister, but she couldn’t have any more kids.”
“I thought there were twelve.”
“My mother would never name a kid Judas, so she was going to settle for eleven.”
“What’s your sister’s name?”
“Mary.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re real name is Gabriel, isn’t it? As in the angel.”
My face heats. “Yeah. I hated it as a kid. And, neither one of us missed a single mass until we my dad determined football was more important.”
Her jaw drops. I don’t know where she stands with religion but I’m having too nice of a time to enter into that potentially volatile topic. The quickest way to determine friend from foe is to discuss religion or politics and I’m so not ready to find out where Ellen stands on either.
“What about you?” I ask. “Any siblings?”
Ellen glances away and lifts her glass of wine, taking a drink, not answering me. Did something happen? I sure as hell don’t want to bring up painful memories, not when we are having such a great day.
After a moment, she puts her glass on the table. “I have an older brother and sister. They still live in Nevada. So do my parents.”
She didn’t want to talk about her dad before. Now I remember assuming they’re estranged.
“I’m the baby, and always did my own thing, much to their disappointment.” She laughs, trying to make light of a situation though I get the feeling there’s nothing funny about it.