Archive of Our Own

It’s Friday night and I'm waiting one more time in front of Elsie’s doorstep. If I told this to the Jack I was three weeks ago he’d have believed me, self-esteem and all of that, but he would have no clue about how we got here. I still don’t know it. I don’t even know where we are, what we are.

She exits the building wearing a dress and her coat, zip open. Again. One of these days we’re going to need to cancel because of pneumonia. I’m not one to criticize either, my hair’s still damp because of the rush and I’m supposed to be a good example for her, in every aspect. Perfect, Jack.

This outfit doesn’t show her curves like the previous one did. Pity, I’ll need to use my imagination and the memories I have from Miel. 

She’s talking on the phone and hesitates before getting into the car but decides to go for it, as it is freezing cold outside. She mouths for me to stay silent and I nod, letting her know I understood. Her dress goes a little up when she sits, showing a handful of her thighs which are covered with black stockings. My eyes go to her perfect knees and I linger there for a moment while she talks, hoping she doesn’t notice my playful glances. If she does, I hope she likes the intrusion. 

I drive out of the parking lot and look to the road, trying to give her all the privacy I’m able to in this little space. I’m not paying attention to her words anyway, I’m too distracted by the rest of her. 

“Mom, I have to go. I’ll call them both tomorrow and talk them out of... illegal stuff, at the very least—” 

She sighs. “I’ll do my best. Honestly, I’m not sure I can solve this at all. I’m not sure anyone can.”

“I don’t think I’m being selfish. I’ll help as soon as I’m able, but they’re both beyond listening to anything I—”

Elsie isn’t selfish. Never. Who affirms that doesn’t know her. She doesn't have an ounce of selfishness in her body nor soul. She’s gentle. Elsie’s not selfish. My heart breaks. This has been her life for years, but it won’t be from now on. She’s safe with me because I truly appreciate her. 

Having people who should have taken care of you put so much weight on you since being a kid molds you to be the kind of person Elsie is. I’d probably have ended up like her if it wasn’t for Millicent’s common sense and protectiveness. Greg helped too, I always felt looked up to and admired by him, so I tolerated Caroline’s outbursts bettee. But what helped me most was college. I found my people there and, for once, felt like I could be my true self. 

“Jack?” 

I don’t hear her mom’s voice on the phone anymore. 

“Yes?”

“If I’m talking with someone and out of the blue I hear the busy signal... what does it mean?”

I look at her suppressing a smirk. “Sounds like you already know.”

“Oh my God. My mom just hung up on me.”

“Should I be shocked? Is that something that doesn’t happen in functional families?”

“I... don’t know. Does your father hang up on you?”

“Does my father have my number?”

She laughs, and we exchange a half-clueless, half-amused glance. Peas in a pod, really. My father does have my number, or so do I think, but he never calls nor writes. I’ve had this exact number since I moved to California and never heard from him. I didn’t expect it. I only gave it to him in case Millicent needed me to cross the country in half a day. It's almost like not having it. 

“It’s a first. She usually likes me. Or pretends to, anyway.”

She’s not just uncomfortable. Her mood goes down and snuggles into the seat. She’s sad. I want to hold her, kiss her and tell her that our parents are assholes. 

“Want to tell me what happened?”

“My family is... embarrassing.”

“More so than a dozen people in monogrammed shirts vulture-circling a ninety-year-old in the hope that she’ll drop dead and a few wads of cash will roll in their direction?”

“My family would do the same, if there were any money to be had. If something happened to my grandma, my brothers would beat each other up over the six-pack of beer she left in the fridge.”

“Is that what they’re fighting about? Beer?”

“I wish. It’s… A girl.”

“A girl.”

“Well, she’s a woman now. But she was a girl when it all began.”

“How old are your brothers?”

“Older than me. And honestly, I blame this entire mess on traumatic encephalopathy. Both of them were on the football team getting their brains oatmealed, and there were seventy million cheerleaders they could have, I don’t know, played D&D under the bleachers with, but no, they decided to choose the same one. Dana.”

“I don’t think that’s what people do under the bleachers, Elsie.”

“They’re my brothers, okay? For the purpose of this conversation, they’ve been fighting over the exclusive right to attend Dana’s decoupage classes. And the most ridiculous thing is, they fancy themselves in some kind of Legends of the Fall situation. They both think that the big love of their life is doomed to fail because of the machinations of their evil twin, but the truth is, it’s so obvious from the outside that no one loves anyone here. Dana gets ninety percent of her dopamine from watching two guys fight over her. Mom only cares about what her cousin’s husband’s sister’s nanny thinks, and is totally fine with them shanking each other as long as they do it privately. And the sad thing is, Lucas and Lance used to be best friends. They’d have fun trying to convince me that ChapStick was made of dromedary sperm and watching me gag. But by now... they’ve forgotten that they’re brothers, forgotten why they liked Dana in the first place, and are just chickens pecking at each other’s feed—like they’re two hydrogen atoms, and Dana is the electron they constantly steal back and forth. But they’re both nonmetals, and even though they wish they could pluck that electron out for good and keep it for themselves, nope, same electronegativity, sorry, it won’t work. And we’re back to square one every six damn months.”

“And where do you come in?” I ask, voice low. 

She thinks that she has to be funny, but I like this part of the real Elsie more than what I’ve seen so far. I like her every new day more than the previous one. I love her funny self but also her moody one even if it doesn’t appear usually. 

“Mom sends me in to broker peace.” 

“Why?”

“What do you mean?”

“It sounds like your brothers are having issues with one another.” She nods. “Why does she send you?”

“I—because—we— It’s my family.”

“It’s your mom’s family, too. And your dad’s, and your brothers’. And yet they’re fine with not addressing the issue and asking you to take care of it.”

“I owe it to them.”

“You do?”

She owes something to a woman that calls her selfish and hangs up on her because of a childish and irrational fight in which she must know she has no reason? Of course she does. How can she be so naive?

“Yes. You don’t understand—I was... I gave them lots of problems growing up. My diagnosis was such a hassle for them, and the medical care was so expensive. I owe it to them.” 

“So, to summarize: Because your pancreas stopped producing insulin when you were a child, you now owe your family a doula-worthy degree of emotional labor?”

She knows it sounds ridiculous. 

“Yeah, kind of.”

“What does your family think of your job situation?”

“Oh, that.” she shrugs. She doesn’t think about that. She doesn’t want to think about that. “Not much.” I look at her while I wait for the light to turn green. “I don’t tell them about that stuff.”

“You don’t tell them about your life?”

“It’s not what I meant.” It’s exactly what she meant. “Just... I’m a first-generation college student.”

“There are plenty of first-generation academics whose parents are supportive and engaged.”

“Just go ahead and do it.”

“Do what?”

“You’re dying to armchair-psychologize me.”

“Am I?”

“You obviously have an opinion.”

Some opinions won’t make you good. Part of the honesty thing is to shut up when what you’re going to say it’s not your business.

“Hmm.”

“Just say it.”

“Say what?”

“That I don’t tell my family about my job because I’m unable to let people know that I’m more than the sum of the ways I can be useful to them. That if I show my true self, with my needs and my wants, I risk being rejected. That I’ve wielded my ability to hide who I am like an emotional antiseptic, and in the process I’ve turned myself into a puppet. Or a watermelon with googly eyes.”

I think about the Elsie I first met. She was incapable of telling people how she felt or what she wanted. She hid her needs to be part of an environment she didn’t like. She couldn’t reject a glass of wine and hurt my grandmother’s feelings. She faked a career just to make an unknown girl think that life isn’t so terrific. Everyone who’s ever paid little attention to her noticed and some (Laurendeau, her family…) use it for their own advantage without thinking about her feelings. 

I think of the actual Elsie. I believe she would be able to ask me for a toast instead of letting her coffee get cold in my kitchen. If she can do that to me, who matters a bit to her, without the fear of losing me (or with the fear but also courage) she can manage in this wild world a little better.

“Well. My job here is done.”

She rests her head against the glass and closes her eyes. I lower my eyes to her torso and thighs and bit my lip.  

“I know how messed up I am.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. I just... I don’t know how to stop.”

“Then maybe my job is not done. And you should stick around.” 

Stay forever, please.

She looks outside and notices my garage. 

“This is your apartment.”

“Yup.” 

“Did you forget something?”

“Nope.”

“Then why—?”

“I figured we’d take it easy tonight. Relax.”

“What about your friends?”

“They can entertain themselves.”

“But they’re waiting for us.”

“Nah. I texted them.”

“When?”

“While you were comparing your brothers’ relationship to a nonpolar covalent bond.”

“I... Why?”

“Because you’re obviously upset. And probably had a long week at work. And you had more-or-less nonconsensual lunches with two people whom I know to be giant pains in the ass. I think it’s better if we stay in. Just us.”

“But… What are we even going to do?”

I then remember the Twilight saga box I bought on Letgo some weeks ago and can’t help but smile. “I have a couple of ideas.”

• • •

“So, Breaking Dawn’s the first one.”

“What? No. Twilight is the first one. Otherwise it’d be the Breaking Dawn Saga.”

True. This shit is very confusing.

Why are they not called Twilight 1, Twilight 2 and Twilight 17? The Fast&Furious saga is much easier to remember. 

“Right. Need a blanket?”

I thought of offering her something comfy, but I really like her in that dress. There’s something special about seeing her on my couch. Her hair wild, her dress a little more up than normal, her eyes closed while waiting for me to come back with our drinks.  

“Okay.” I grab the remote and sit next to her, close but letting a gap between us that she can close herself if she wants.

“I cannot believe you own a Twilight box set.”

I cannot believe it either.

“I needed to see what the fuss is about.”

“You bought the Blu-rays. Who buys Blu-rays?”

“People who can’t find the VHS.”

She looks straight into my eyes. “How old are you, precisely?”

Will she be scared of me if she knew I’m older than her? Knowing her age was literally a two minute search on Google. There’s much more information about me (even a Wikipedia page with my birthday on it) so she definitely looked nothing up. I pretend that’s because of the nerves that thinking about me produces her. The good one, I mean, the anticipatory one. 

“Seventy-three.”

Teasing a girl is always a good option.

She laughs. “No, for real.”

“Seventeen.”

Mentally, at least, I am. 

“You’re thirty-three, aren’t you? Thirty-two. Thirty-four?”

Yeah. Maybe she looked it up. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

I’ll tell you when you become my girlfriend.

“Give me a hint. What do you remember most from your childhood? Slime? The DSL dial tone? Butterfly hair clips? People dying of the bubonic plague?”

I’m not that old, sweetheart.

I knew about slime because of my cousins some years ago and I was tempted to explain to them why it is made with contact lens solution and what it makes it so disgusting. I think most people know about DSL tone one way or another. I also remember girls in my high school using butterfly hair clips constantly during a brief and ridiculous period. Really, they took them to another level. Some of them were half their head. And lastly, I definitely wasn't alive when people were dying from the bubonic plague, but Holden told me much about it when Adam and he were doing an historic search in grad school so I know lots about it, if that’s what you mean.

I’m not gonna answer.

“You can shit on my Twilight Forever box set all you want—I’ve seen the way you’re eyeing it.”

“With polite but detached interest?”

You wish.

“With shameless, covetous lust for the ‘Edward Goes to Italy’ featurette.”

She laughs again. Whoa. I’ll never tire of hearing that preciousness and either of causing it.

“So what do you know about the movies?”

I’m supposed to impress her now. Think fast, Jack. 

“They have a bloodcurdling CGI kid named Elizabelle—”

“Renesmee.”

Almost the same.

“—and something about sparkly dermatology? Spider monkeys?”

“There’s also vampire baseball.”

Okay. I played baseball in college, I can deal with that.

“Encouraging.”

Not really.

“Okay, real talk.” 

She turns toward me and my heart fastens at the thought that maybe she’s thinking about leaning on me. Oh, my God, I’d love her to. She can lay her head on my lap, for example. It’d be cute and would allow me to look at her without her knowing. But then she would ask me for things that happened in the movie and I would have no idea so better she doesn’t. Oh, fuck.

“Are you going to hate this?”

Yes, but it’s no big deal if it cheers you up.

“Probably. But no more than 2001: A Space Odyssey.”

“What do you like?”

You. Elsie Hannaway. Real Elsie.

“Physics-defying car chases, mostly. People climbing buildings. Space monsters.” I shrug, I don’t want to talk about me. “George calls them my ‘white male rage’ movies.”

“Okay, well, we can watch one of those. Avengers’ Infinity Endgame or something with The Rock. I mean, what about what you want?”

What about what?

“What about that?”

I want to do what you want. 

“We never focus on that.”

She does. Every fucking time. She’s doing it right now.

“That’s because I have no issues asking for what I want.”

Punch.

“That felt like a backdoor brag,” She mumbles resentfully, but doesn’t seem affected.

“It was fully front door.”

She plays with the hem of her dress and, to my disgrace, she straightens the fabric and lowers it, blocking my beautiful views of earlier. 

“I understand that this is about helping me reclaim my individuality, but if we’re going to be friends, we should do stuff you like, too. Otherwise—”

“Elsie.” I can’t resist but take her chin on my hand, lifting her face until her eyes meet mine and she’s looking at me. “You’re doing it. We’re doing it.” 

She looks at me for a few seconds but then she looks away. 

“Okay, well.” She swallows. Twice. 

Come on, Elsie. You can do this, you can trust me.

“You still didn’t need to buy the box set.”

Here we go again.

“I told you, I—” 

“No, I mean…” Her face’s a soft shade of pink. “It’s streaming on Netflix. And on Prime.”

Sassy to a certain level. 

I feel the urge to tickle her in response, but she’s faster. During my two seconds of hesitation she manages to steal the remote and play the movie.

I spend the entire time looking at her legs while she pretends she doesn’t notice my glances. I also make soft comments about ridiculous facts of the movie. She shuts me up with snorts, not with kisses. What a pity. She then ignores me for a half a minute. 

During a scene I can’t remember she does look at me. Intently, in addition. I’m not looking at her. To my disgrace or not. Maybe if I’d been looking at her we would now be making out. Who knows? I wasn’t brave enough. I want her to study my face, realize of how immersed I’m in her movies and of how gorgeous I am. 

“I promise I’m not going to quiz you afterwards,” She tells me. “You can scroll on your phone. Fall asleep. Roll your eyes.”

I’m not going to but I’m glad I don’t need to memorize something. The film it’s worse than what I had imagined. Really bad. I can’t remember half of the names and, as I was never the type of guy who’s into fantasy, I can’t remember the world building either. Fuck, my ‘white male rage’ are much easier to watch. They’re not real either, and even less for a physics graduate, but at least they are based on something I understand.

“Is that what people do when you watch Twilight with them?”

“I don’t.”

“You don’t... ?”

“Watch it with anyone.” Perfect. Wonderful. “I usually stream a cam version on my laptop and give off a dense, guilty aura. Once Cece came in in the middle of Eclipse. I turned off the monitor and swore I was masturbating to stepbrother hentai.”

Whoa. I didn’t need to think about that. I can’t have a boner right now, it'd would be gross. Relax down there, bro.

My mouth curves. “Not Bill Nye?”

“Didn’t think of it.” I look back at the screen. The faster we finish this, the faster I’ll get to really talk to her, but Elsie has other plans. “Hey,” I turn again. “Thank you.”

“For suggesting Bill Nye porn?”

We both know not, but I like the little smile she displays then.

“No. For...” She struggles but finds the right words. “For wanting to know me enough to watch my favorite movie with me.”

She leans into me. So much that her mouth’s only millimeters away from my cheek when an alarm goes off on my head. She notices it and hesitates, still against my cheek.

Her aroma’s sweet, sweeter on short distances. I turn my face to hers, hoping to give her the boost of confidence she needs to cut the space between our lips. I need her to, I’ve dreamed of this exact moment (and of more explicit ones) every day since I met her. I need her to kiss me. I need her to want me the same way I want her.  

Elsie won’t just miraculously be ready to go all the way with me tonight. Hell, a cheek kiss was probably the limit on what she could handle. She'd probably run home and never speak to me again before she let me see such a vulnerable side of her, but I didn’t care. Whatever the change in her tonight was, it was a step in the right direction, and I would take it without complaint.

For her and only for her, I can be a patient guy,

I exhale in anticipation. My breathing’s shaky and irregular, my eyes are closing in anticipation. She inhales the air I exhale. 

I become fucking crazy. My hand flies to the back of her head. Fingers in her soft hair, gripping. I feel her pulse against my thumb, fast and strong, she’s as nervous as I am.

Then, something just… clicks.

I can’t do this to her, she needs to initiate. I nearly abused her confidence. I don’t know her well enough. I don’t understand her corporal movements enough to scale the things to the point she may and I definitely want to. It’s too soon.

“No,” I say, against my wish and with our lips brushing. “No.”

I let her go and get as far from her as I’m able. I stay on the other end of the couch but still look at her. I can feel my body tense, like I was robbed of something necessary to my survival. 

“Jack?” 

I try to erase the fog in my eyes and ignore her voice behind me. I feel like an asshole. I can’t ignore her, much less her desperation and the insecurity that I carried to her voice. 

“I didn’t mean to...” 

I tremble and move away when she lays a hand on my shoulder but I still can feel the sensation of it on my skin, tingling. I need to calm down. Nothing will happen tonight.

“Elsie, I need you to not touch me for a minute.” I go to the window to try and focus on something else. 

I see people in the streets even though it’s late. I see cars below me. Lights. Trees that are moving because of the winter wind. My fingers go to my lips now, if I continue biting them like this they’ll bleed. This is not what I had planned for tonight.

“I’m sorry,” Elsie says without getting any closer. “Maybe I… I think I may be attracted to you.”

“Fuck,” I turn around, running a hand through my hair. My desperation and sexual frustration are obvious. “Fuck,” I repeat.

She’s close but away at the same time. My long-time crush. The first girl I wanted to be only mine is on the verge of begging me to fuck her. My body tells me to give in, to do what we both want, but my head is afraid of hurting her, of scaring her, of erasing her from my life because I did something she didn’t like and she didn’t have the courage to tell me so. I'm scared of losing her because of poor communication skills and rushing.

I can’t lose her. I couldn't lose her before, but I can less now that I know what her company feels like. I need her in my life. My sexual needs can wait some more days, weeks or months. I can wait. For her, I can do it. We only need to know each other more intently. 

“I’m not going to fuck you,” I tell her, I need to convince both of us. 

Maybe if I say it in the correct tone, my body will understand this isn’t happening now nor soon.

“I...” She can’t find the words. “I am… Right. You mentioned before that you’re not interested.”

I said what? I can’t have.

I laugh, astonished. “I never said that.”

“At the restaurant, you said that you didn’t want to have sex with me.”

That’s what she thought about that unfinished conversation? 

I have the desire to punch everything around me except for her. How could I be such a fool? How could I think that she would understand it the same way I would? We’re not the same person. She’s not as secure of herself as I am of myself.

I picture her when I dropped her on her street, overthinking my words and getting to a conclusion I didn’t mean. I really am a fucking asshole. Girls must have reason when they tell me so. 

“I said that I wasn’t going to have sex with you.”

She frowns at my words. She still doesn’t understand it.

“That’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.”

I see the moment she understands because of the color that her cheeks take. Something in the air changes, thickens. I’m still angry with her for not asking me what that meant if it made her insecure, for not confronting me when she could. But, above all, I’m angry with myself for not being cautious enough with my words and hurting her. I can’t be aware of everything. I can’t be on her mind, but I can soften myself with her. 

“Is that how you interpreted what I said? Lack of interest?”

She shrugs.

I decide now and here that honesty is my best shot. I need to be direct (more than previously) and confront her. It may be uncomfortable, but it’s essential for both her and for me. It’s necessary for us.

“You think I don’t want to fuck you,” 

“Why else?”

“Why else.”

She clears her throat, looking for courage. “Why else won’t you?”

I shake my head. “It’s what’s best for you. For us. Right now.”

“I’m sorry, did you...” She clears her throat. Again. “Did you just inform me that we’re not going to have sex, because it’s what best for us?”

I nod. “You understand that this should be the product of a dialogue between two people, right? You can’t just hand out decisions without explanation—”

She’s in front of me and I'm a giant to her. Even my height makes her vulnerable, especially while being so emotionally exposed. I bend to look her in the eye and she holds my gaze. 

“I can, actually.” 

We’re cross-armed. Unsmiling. A second ago we were joking on the couch and I was thinking this was the best date I’d ever had. What the hell?

“This is incredibly patronizing. You can’t assume that you know what’s best for—”

“Okay, then.” I shift forward, closer. “How do I make you come?”

She trembles. Her confidence’s gone.

“What?”

“What do you like when having sex? What do you want? What are your needs? How do I make you come?”

Perfect Elsie would now. 

“Sorry?”

“You said it was patronizing of me not to discuss sex. So let’s talk. Unless it makes you feel uncomfortable. A good sign that maybe it’s best for you not to have it, either, but—”

“That’s not it,” She hurries to say.

Too fast, too trembling. Of course it is. 

Even shy women can manage to talk about sex when they really want to and the person is the correct one. Elsie’s shy but must be also inexperienced. 

It’s not that I blame her. It can’t be easy to talk about sex when your first partner is so selfish. People who introduce you to sex must be flexible, considerate and careful. Or, if not, as inexperienced as you. Unawareness is the only valid excuse to hurt your partner. Provided that you add an honest conversation and apologies after so you don’t fall twice over the same stone. They should prioritize your comfort before their pleasure. J. J. clearly didn’t. 

“Then tell me,” I repeat. 

Tell me and I promise you I’ll finish with this uncomfortable moment, with your desperation and with your insecurities. You have nothing to fear from me. You’re beautiful and so damn desirable. Elsie, you’re perfect. At least, perfect for me. But I’m perfect for you too.

“How do I make you come?”

“This is such a weird thing to ask. I— Oh my God. You think I’m inexperienced.” She laughs, trying to convince us of something we both know is fake. Perfect Elsie’s back. I hated her before and I hate her now, she needs to be gone right now. “I’m not. I’ve had sex with J.J., like, a million times, in a million ways! You think I’m lying?”

“I don’t. If you told me you’re a card-carrying member of the Orgy of the Month Club, I’d believe you. But since you have all that experience, you’ll have no problem telling me: How do I make you come?”

She opens her mouth and... closes it. 

Fuck. I wanted to believe so badly what she was saying was true.

“I’m waiting, Elsie.”

She stares at me for a long moment.

“Still waiting.”

She then lowers her gaze to the floor.

“Is this something you do with every girl you sleep with?” She asks, bitterly. “An entrance exam?”

I shouldn't be making her feel like this. She should like this, like me, but she must be hating me. She’s feeling inferior while I only want to hug her and demonstrate to real Elsie that she’s less than nobody. But she would hate it if I invaded her space now, if she didn’t she’d have already come to me. I can’t give in to this, I can’t risk it. Honesty’s now more important than ever.

“Sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“Other times it’s more trial and error.”

It was different. None of them was you. I didn’t want a life with them.

“And after that?”

Stop talking about others. No one before you matters. 

“After that, I do what they like. Have them do what I like, if they’re up for it.”

There’s the self loathing. Again. Maybe a faint jealousy. She turns away and looks outside the window. I resist the urge to embrace her. 

She’s suppressing tears from falling. I want her to let all those insecurities go between my arms, I want her to be honest so I can fuck her. It would be uncomfortable, but it’d make us work. That’s worth the risk.

“Elsie.” She holds my eyes on the glass. I’m glad I still haven't bought curtains. “You have a pattern of doing things you don’t enjoy for the sake of others, and I need to be sure the two of us don’t fall into it. I need to know that you’re not initiating anything with me because it’s something you think I expect. And I need to be certain that you don’t feel like you have to be some... fantasy lay whose only focus is my pleasure. That you’re in a place where you’re able to acknowledge and articulate your needs.”

She lets her forehead fall against the window and I lose her to her thoughts. I gave her some minutes to organize what she wants to tell me, if she wants to tell me something. I prepare myself to receive anything and take it in a good way. I’m prepared for her to give in and tell me the truth, but also for her to block me from her life.

“You should tell me what you’re thinking,” 

Our silence cleared my anger. I’m now much more gentle than before, as gentle as I’ve always been with her.

“Why?”

“Because I want to know. And you promised you’d try.”

“I’m thinking...” She turns but still doesn’t look at me. “I’m thinking that two things can be true at once: you want to protect me, and also do it in a patronizing way. I’m thinking that by trying to respect me, you ended up making a decision for me—like everyone else before you. I’m thinking... that I don’t really know you, not yet, but sometimes, when I’m with you, I feel like you know me better than I do myself.” There’s the Elsie I like, the one I’ve only seen twice. “But I’m also thinking of something else.”

“What?”

“I’m thinking that I don’t know how you can make me come. But it would be fun to find out together.”

Like she needs to demonstrate what she's said to me it’s real, she takes her dress off and places it in our feet. I stare at the fabric for a moment before looking up, into her body and soul. She wants this as much as I do. 

I don't care about inexperience anymore. I have enough experience for the both of us. 

She’s not looking at me. I have to do something myself now. She braved the nakedness, the ball is on my court now. 

I glance at her neck, at her collarbone, at her shoulders and then at the cleavage of her black bra. I’m stuck there for a while and then advance to her stomach and panties. They’re black. No lace, no transparencies, no patterns. Just black. So, so, so hot. 

“Elsie.”

I resist the impulse to reach for her. I need to squeeze the curve of her waist and glue her to me for eternity. She can’t leave my side now. She won’t leave this house until Monday. I want her for me. I need her for me. 

I think about all the things I want to do to her. With her. I need to fuck her but also taste her. I need her to come because of me. I need to see her tremble in my hands, to feel her hands on my head while I’m between her legs and her teeth on my skin when it becomes too much, I need her to contract around me. I need everything but we have little time and limited energy.

My whole body is jumping with joy. Sweating with some nerves I’ve never felt before. I can’t take my eyes out of her abdomen. It seems soft. I want to kiss it right now. My fingertips tingle and my fists clench. 

“It’s too soon. We should wait till you’re more comfortable around me.”

“I’m at my most comfortable around you. And also at my least. But that’s because you’re an asshole, and unlikely to ever change.”

I don’t know how I’m able to laugh in a moment like this.

“If we... We need rules,” 

“I don’t—”

“I need rules,” Her boobs are something out of this world. “You promise me you will—”

“Stop you if I need to. Tell the truth. Be honest.” 

I love her so much I think I may explode.

“We take it slow. We’re not having sex. And clothes stay on.”

She glances down at her dress. “Should I put it back on?”

No. 

I imagined her body for months, but reality is so much better.

“Jesus.” I step closer and go to stroke her waist, but I stop myself just before. “My clothes stay on.”

I think I can cum just from this vision.

“Suit yourself.” 

She reaches behind her back and starts to unclasp her bra. I stop her with a hand on her arm.

“Leave that on.”

She nods but bends down to roll off her thigh highs.

“Leave them on, too. Please.”

“Okay.” She clears her throat and the movement of her jaw makes me fucking crazy. I lose control of my own body. I’m too nervous, too eager. “Can we... I don’t know. Can we kiss now? Or is it still ‘too soon’—”

Of course we can, babe. 

I press her against the window. Thank God it’s mirrored and people outside can’t see what’s mine and only mine. Elsie’s too precious to expose her to the outside world. I nuzzle the skin of her neck while my forehead is pressed to the glass behind her, something cold to calm my too hot body. 

“Why are—?”

I feel her mouth on my temple and I go for it. I kiss her like I’ve wanted to do for months. I don’t want to stop, I can’t. She doesn’t mind it either. My tongue enters her mouth easily and moves with hers. I don’t know how much time passes until she squirms against me, wanting more.

There are a hundred places in which I could fuck her right now, but I don’t want to move. I don’t want to be separated from Elsie. I don’t wanna let her precious body go, even if it’s for a minute. Even though she's sitting on the windowsill I’m still taller, bigger, stronger. She arches into me, trying to get closer. I want to take off her bra and see those hardened nipples. I want to pinch and suck them. 

“Wait. Wait, let me—” 

I take her arms and place them around my shoulders. I lift one of her thighs up to make room for me between her legs. We’re locked together, but not close enough. We’ll never be close enough.

She moans into my mouth and I go crazy. But then just… Is she trying to tell me something? Fuck, Jack. I need to pay more attention. I break the kiss. My body protests but I manage to speak. 

“Is this okay? Is this okay? Do you—”

“Yes.”

“Thank fuck.” I smell the skin of her neck again, inhaling to savour it. “You smell out of this world. I’ve been stuck on it since last summer, but it’s gotten better, and—”

“Bed. We should go to bed.”

No. 

“We’re not going to bed.” I nip her cute cheekbone, where a smile it’s starting to form, and then lick it because I don’t want to cause her any pain. She moans and I do it on reflection. “I’m not going to fuck you. We’re just... making out. Fooling around. This is not...”  My finger trips over her bra strap and it hooks on it, I softly stretch it forward and half of it lowers until her nipple is shown. I press my forehead against hers and look down to the little thing, hard and pointing towards my chest. “Jesus,” 

Her tits are small but firm. Blank but soft. Precious. Perfect size to my hand and mouth. 

“I can take it off—”

“No.” I groan and play with her nipple. She gasps at the contact. “I’m not going to fuck you, but God, I could.” 

I squeeze her breast with my whole palm and she whimpers. This is going to feel good. Really, really good. It’s already much better than everything. 

“What do I do?” I ask, letting her think for a moment.

She looks at me. Her eyes are glassy and gleaming from pleasure. She doesn't seem to acknowledge my question. 

“What?”

“What do you like?” I glance down at her body, thinking about all the possibilities it offers. My hand traces her stomach and the outer part of her thigh until I meet the elastic of her thigh high. I consider lowering it or taking it off, so I can squeeze the sweet pieces of fruit her legs are. Even her pod, being something so few people know about, arouses me. “Where do I start?”

“Um...”

I kiss her gently. I uncover her other breast and play with her other nipple. “Trial and error, then.”

That's it. Take it slow, you caveman. 

“What do you do with other girls?”

“Other girls?”

There are no other girls right now.

“Normal girls.”

You’re a normal girl. Not for me, because for me you’re perfect and you surpass everyone else, but you’re normal to the rest of the world. There’s nothing wrong with you, Elsie.

I go back to her collarbone. I don’t want to cause her hickeys but, at the same time, I want to mark her as mine so she thinks of me every time she looks at herself in a mirror. I’m confident I’ll be enough for her not to look at someone else the same way she’s looking at me right now, but she’s too tempting. Other people will look at her and desire she was theirs. 

“Elsie.”

“I just want to know. If I... if I weren’t me, what would you do?”

I wouldn’t have been so patient and I’d have lost interest. 

“No.” 

“I just—honesty, you said.” I lick the inside of her breasts. Her fingers hook in my hair, begging me to answer, “Please.”

I take a moment on her nipple to summarize, and she seems to lose track of her question, because when I separate from it to finally answer her whine goes straight to my cock. 

“If you were any other woman...” I spread her legs. “If you were anyone but you, I would take you to bed. And I’d fuck you everywhere you let me.” I run a single finger from her knee to her core, while the other rests in her other knee, preventing her from closing her legs. “I would go down on you, maybe while you’re going down on me. And because your tits look like something I’ll be dreaming about for decades, I’d ask for permission to come on them. Paint a picture.” I reach her panties, her core wet against my fingertip. I trace the edges of the fabric, waiting for her to look at me. “I’d clean you up and feed you before taking you home, if you wanted me to.” I slide my thumb under the fabric and reach for her folds. “But you wouldn’t be you. And afterwards I wouldn’t think of you very much.”

I tap against her clit and she lets out a moan.

“This is way too fast,” I say while brushing her clit. 

I can feel her pussy clenching around nothing while she squirms and wish I was inside her to feel it. She’s gripping hard on the windowsill, not on me. She should scratch, bite and hold onto my body. She can do whatever she wants. It’s already dizzying to feel her legs pressing into my sides when she tries to close them. 

I am disgusted by her black panties. They’re sexy. Anything would be sexy on her, but they don’t show how wet she is. It would be a huge turn on. Another one, I mean. 

I decide to tease her, “Elsie, maybe you should ask me to stop.” 

Words come out difficultly, “Don’t. Whatever you do, please don’t stop.”

“More? Less? What do you want?”

No response.

“Elsie, what do you—”

“I don’t know,” She whines. “I don’t know, but please—can you—”

“Shh. It’s okay.” My thumb presses harder against her clit, and her head falls back against the window. Good. I wonder what she’s thinking. “I barely know what I want from you, and I’ve had much longer to think about it. I don’t know what I’m doing, either. Not with you. This is new.”

“That’s humble of you,” 

Apparently, I’m not the only one who’s on the playful side right now. I stop my movements while she rubs her hips looking for friction and I smirk against her skin. I see her strain, frustrated, trying to make my finger slip from her pubis to her core. 

“There’s something really humbling about having the face of your brother’s girlfriend in your head every time you come.”

Another whimper. Hers. She’s really aroused. Ready for me. “I was never his.”

“I didn’t know it. For months, I didn’t know.”

I wonder if this would be so intense if I’d known about Faux. It’d for sure be intense, but I suppressed my emotions for a long time, shutting up about them with anyone but George and the people she and Holden got me into in that WhatsApp group chat months ago. 

“I was sure you hated me.”

I laugh and place an open mouth kiss on her temple, while I whisper, “I did sometimes. For making me hate my brother, just because he was the one who got to eat you out.” My hand goes back to work. I part her folds while the heel presses against her clit. It’s better for her, seeing the way she closes her eyes, incapable of coping with the pleasure. I wonder how close she is. I could definitely come from this. “Should I put a finger inside you?”

“I don’t... I usually...”

“No, then.”

“But… Trial and error,” 

I laugh.

“You sure?”

She nods. I’m starting to understand this dynamic between us, that’s why I don’t hesitate while parting her folds and introducing a single finger in her. Her clenching is delicious, I can’t wait to feel it around my cock, but, for now, It’ll have to be enough with this. She’s so wet that I get inside her with ease. I wonder why I refused to do it at first. She’s clearly comfortable. She likes this. 

I’ve never been happier in my whole life.

I look into her eyes for a long moment, stretching the moment for as long as I can. I kiss her when I can resist it no more and I hook my finger inside her. I only break the kiss when she clenches harder than before. We both jolt.

“Fuck. Here, huh?” I do it again. And again. And again.

“Oh my God, Jack, you—”

She stops speaking when I do it some more and I deepen the kiss but get no response. She isn’t able to kiss me back properly, too centered in containing her pleasure to be aware of anything else. 

I break the kiss and pull her into my chest while she squirms under me, against me. Like putty on my hands. Helpless, defenseless. Eager for me and my touch. I’m the only one who’s got to see her like this. 

“I imagined being with you like this a lot. But, Elsie, this is unreal. You are unreal.” I draw kisses on her face. Her head tilted to the side to give me space to kiss her jaw and cheek. “When I get inside you, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” 

“You are inside me—”

“You know what I mean.” I bit her lobe. I’m tempted to stop and see her struggle for a little while, seeing she's so sassy tonight. But I decide against it. Instead, I ask, “Two?”

She swallows, pausing to think about it while her thighs tremble on each side of my body, and I go back to work when I acknowledge she’ll come from this.

“Elsie? One finger okay? Or you want more?”

She shakes her head and blindly grabs my arm, looking for support and something firm to anchor her. One finger. Okay.

“You have really big hands.” 

She’ll soon discover what an advantage that is. 

“Okay. Okay, let’s stick with one.”

“I think...” She takes my face in her hand and angles it for me to look straight into her eyes. Fat pupils looking for mines. “I think we should go to bed. Have sex. Real sex.”

“I think you should let me go on my knees and eat you out until tomorrow morning.”

She shakes her head while I quicken my pace. “Let’s just have sex. You—you can’t be enjoying this,” she tells me in a moan. 

She’s clearly loving every second of it.

“You sure?” 

I press my cock on her thigh and think it’s impossible for her not to notice. Even that soft touch sends me spiralling. I’m desperate for her. 

“Oh.”

Oh. I smirk. If only she knew. 

“Yeah.”

“I’m not—I’m not even doing anything. If we went to bed, I could—”

She’s doing everything. She’s here. That's enough. Even if she wasn’t here anymore after tonight I could cum just from this memory.

“You make soft little sounds. You shift your hips when I do—ah, yes. This. And these tiny spasms around my finger, which make me think of you clenching around my cock. Given how tight you are, it isn’t happening anytime soon, but—” I close my eyes and breathe deeply, incapable of continuing talking with such a goddess like her in front of me. “Sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Just trying to get a grip.”

I can’t.

“You don’t have to get a grip. You can take me upstairs and—”

Shut up. Please.

She contracts around me again and I can’t help but ask, “You sure you don’t want two fingers, Elsie?”, even when I said I wouldn’t press her.

It’s easier to let myself get lost in this when I know how close she is and how much she’s enjoying it. I’m sure she’d love two fingers. And even three. And my mouth. And a sixty nine. And my cock. 

“We should try.”

I introduce another finger while I caress her waist and it enters even better than the first. She clenches instantly, gasps and twists on them, making it more difficult to continue my movements. I’m still between her legs, so she just arches like a rainbow and presses her chest to mine, rubbing her nipples in a sweet way.

I’m at the perfect distance to bend down and take one of them in my mouth. I could even play with the other and send her straight to heaven in one mind blowing orgasm she'd love, but I want to watch her face when she comes. 

Remember, Jack. We’re taking this slow. 

“Jesus,” I say when she clenches around again. She's warm and tight. “Fuck.”

She decides to explore this position. She grinds down against my fingers, absorbing them to my knuckles. She stops and squeezes until obscene sounds come from my throat. Or maybe they come from hers.

“Good?”

“Good.”

Good.

I pepper her face with gentle kisses. 

“So maybe you like to be full.” 

She nods.

Good.

“I will give you anything I have—anything you want, if you let me go down on you right now.”

She leans against the glass, spreading her legs wide open. Her heels softly brush against my lower back and her folds part. Her clit emerges when I take her cup to the side with my thumb. 

“I’ve never done it,” she whispers

That’s a yes, isn’t it? I’ll be cautious. I’ll notice if she doesn’t like it. 

I kneel in front of her core and nozzle her pube, kissing there and lowering slowly until my tongue meets my fingers. I savor the wetness and the slip stretched wide. I lose it when she clenches in firm, fast and quick pulsations when I lick her clit. 

Her hands pull my hair and scratch my scalp. Her legs tremble and I look up without stopping. Her chest goes up and down quickly. The little moans she makes while she comes down are a huge turn on but I stop myself from licking too fast, too hard. I don’t want to overstimulate her, but I refuse to stop. 

“I think I’m dying,” She says when she relaxes, completely serious. 

Her heels press me into her. Wet noises come from her pussy when I move my fingers. I have her cum on my mouth and chin. 

“I think I want to do this every day,” I kiss her pussy one last time. “Every day for the rest of my life.”

I plant a few open mouthed kisses on her inner thigh before standing. Fingers came out wet and sticky, but I don’t mind. I kiss her jaw while she comes down. I take some time to caress her. I kiss her face, play with her scalp, hug her to me and cradle her head on my shoulder. 

A humble thought comes to me then. I’m an instant away from asking her if  did something she didn’t like or if there’s something she doesn’t want to repeat. My cock’s throbbing hard in my boxers, but forgotten for a moment. Before I can ask anything she cuts my thoughts.

“I want to have sex,” 

Okay. No negative thoughts then.

“Against tonight’s rules,” I whisper into her shoulder.

“So you’re just going to stop?” She shifts her leg and it brushes my arousal. “It’s still there.”

Of course it is. I can feel it. I should do something with it. 

She’s still too new to this to go down on her knees as I’d like so a quick visit to the bathroom will have to do. But I want more seconds of this first. I want to savour the intimacy we’re merged into and etch it to my mind in case she never comes back to me again.

“I’m fine with—”

“Honesty,” I really hate that word now. “What do you want now? Putting aside your ‘rules.’ ” 

I love that she doesn’t want to follow them, but we still should. We have time. We will fuck again sometime and I’ll get inside her. 

I’ll eat her out while she’s wearing my clothes and watching the second film of that saga she likes so much but I hate. I’ll lay bare and so she can ride me when it ends. I’ll fuck her into the matress before going to sleep. I’ll have her for breakfast tomorrow morning before we even get out of my bed. We’ll shower together and I’ll make her cum with the showerhead between her legs. We’ll feed lunch to each other while she sits on my lap right before laying her on the table and going down on her again. She’ll cockwarm me while we see the next film of the saga and I’ll have her sitting on my face for the fourth before playing with her clit during the fifth. Maybe only then they’d be bearable films.

Fuck, this does me no good. If the fabric was tight before, it’s gonna explode now.

“I don’t have to—”

“Honesty.”

There we go. Please, don’t be scared.

“Okay.” I stare down at her body, she wants to do this, so we’re doing it. There’re a hundred things I want to do. “I want to come on your stomach.”

“Oh. Is it a... kink you have?”

It’s the first time it occurs to me. 

“Not usually, no. But...” 

I can’t tell her what I’m thinking. It’s an enormous red flag. 

“Honesty?” 

I hate that word.

I’m never using it again. 

“I never thought of myself as the possessive type. But... you were someone else’s for a long time. It drove me a bit crazy in my lizard brain.”

A little is kind of an understatement. I still remember the nights I spent awoke thinking about what my brother and her were maybe doing. I hated myself for picturing my brother in bed with her, for picturing a woman that clearly had no interest in me and my brother loved cumming because of another man. I pictured her by my side, doing the unspeakable things we’ve just done. I clutched my spare pillow pretending it was her and I fucked it like a desperate teenager who has his first crush and doesn’t know how to cope with rejection. 

Maybe that teenager is not so far from me. I still have a big crush on her. I get nervous at the thought of seeing her, I get distracted and think about her all the fucking time. And that was before tonight. Now will for sure get so much worse. If I’m lucky I’ll get to call her my girlfriend soon, but I’ll never have enough of her. If I can’t repeat this I’ll spend my entire life picturing this exact scene in detail. Playing it in my head again and again until I add so many details that I transform it into something it isn’t and lose the only memory I have of her. 

I definitely didn’t know how to cope with rejection that morning either because I was my last bit of dignity away from kneeling and begging her to reconsider. I’d have become an asshole if she didn’t change her mind after talking to Millicent. I totally understand Adam and the way Olive changed his character now. And I should thank Millicent for whatever she did to change Elsie’s mind. Maybe a trip to New York on spring break will do. 

I’m not so far from a teenager. Oh, Elsie, what have you done to me?

“I think you should, then.”

A dream came true.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Make sure your clothes stay on. Rules and all.”

She’s laughing but stops when I look at her. I start to unbuckle my belt and I unzip my pants. She sees me through my clothes, hard and big. My cock pushes towards her tenting on my jet black boxers.  

I lower the fabric and pump up and down. She’s looking at me, analyzing my reactions. She mumbles something I’m not able to catch while jerking off. My eyes look at her breasts, then at her ribs, then at her shoulders and finally at her neck. “You really are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I murmur.

I don’t want her to get bored while watching me. 

“You said you don’t care. That you barely notice. That there are lots of beautiful women.”

And there are, but none of them resembles her specific beauty. Elsie’s beautiful without trying. 

“I don’t know.” I’m not present enough. I should talk to her but I’m incapable of doing so. “With you, I notice.” I kiss her jaw. “You think you can come again?”

Please, say yes.

“I think I don’t want to.”

Okay, Jack. That's not bad. It doesn’t mean she’s not liking this with you. She’s just tired. Overstimulated. 

I hate and love how she makes me feel. I’m normally confident but with her I doubt myself. I don’t want to scare her, I want to be the perfect version of myself for her, just like she does for everyone. I feel hypocritical for asking her to do what I’m incapable of. I want her to like me. I want her for me and only me. Faking comes without thinking. 

I nod, letting her believe I’m okay with it when I’m really not. I’m scared as fuck. 

I step between her thighs and angle my cock so that it hits her clit, so I can pretend I’m pushing into her with every thrust of my hand. It has us both gasping, but she’s probably only thinking about what I’m feeling. I want it to feel good, I need it to feel good but I’m still too insecure. 

My cock slides to her entrance and I consider slipping inside her. She told me she wants to have real sex. As if what we’re doing it’s not part of reality. But she also told me she doesn’t want to come again, so no.

“Should I—” 

No, you shouldn’t. 

“Not tonight. I just want to look at you. Know you’re here.” I take some of her wetness and use it on my cock. My movements are uncoordinated but I’m close enough to not care about them. “Shit, Elsie.” I notice the desperation in my voice. I press my forehead against hers. “There were days, these last few months, when you were all I could think about. Even if I didn’t really want to.” 

I search for her eyes. I need to make sure she’s here with me. I need to know that she’s real. I barely see her face, vision blurry and eyes closing involuntarily. I reach for her hand blindly. I grab it on mine when I find it. Her hand’s tiny and soft against my palm. I twin our fingers together and tighten the grip, letting some of my desperation go there the same way she scratched my skin before.

“Elsie,” I finally cum. 

I let go. All the orgasms I’ve had before can’t compare to this one. I feel it on my whole body. From head to toes. A sweet and pleasurable tingle that gets me incredibly relaxed even when my breathing is still irregular. 

She’s here, of course she is. Her arms are looped around my shoulders and her fingers caress my scalp as I come down. I bury my face on her neck looking for her fragrance. She’s sweet as always. Her usual scent is mixed with our sweats and a taint of my own smell. I grip our hands tighter, trying to get a grip.

She’s here. She liked it with me. That’s all that matters.

We hug for a few more minutes. I don’t know when, but suddenly she starts crying and holds my body tighter, looking for me like she needs me to calm her down from whatever made her tear. I hold her back, not caring about the splotch of cum between us that goes into my shirt. 

Is she feeling overwhelmed? Fears grow when she doesn’t stop crying, even when I’m nuzzling her neck and leaving soft pecks on her shoulder and neck. I need her to talk to me, but I don’t want to pressure her. I can be as patient as she wants. We’re here, after all. I didn’t have this planned. I didn’t even dare to hope this’d ever happen. She was out of my league. I had accepted it. Today we were just going on a date but she just cummed in my living room. There’s nothing impossible now.

Finally sobs morph into giggles and she holds my head to her neck while she laughs hard. She gives me no explanations but I know that’s not the reaction of someone who’s hurt, it’s the one of someone who's overwhelmed. She’s laughing as hard as she was crying. Happy tears. No sadness. 

“You’re ruining the moment.” My lips curve into her throat. 

I’m still breathy. But I could go another round if she wanted. 

“I’m so sorry. I just—”

Don’t. 

“What?”

“Just wondering if you still think it’s ‘too soon.’ ”

I slap her butt. 

Finally. I’ve wanted to do this for months. 

She yelps in surprise but keeps laughing. It won’t be the last time.

“Yes.” I angle her head so we’re looking into our eyes. “It’s really soon. But the only person who can slow us down is you, so...”

“So what?”

I push a strand of brown hair behind her ear. I try to mask my worry, nerves, tiredness and happiness, all at the same time, to tell her what I’m really feeling at this exact moment. I’m not sure she’s already understood how important she’s for me.

“Be gentle with me, Elsie. That’s all I ask.”