Let’s look for the purple banana ‘till they put us in the truck. Let’s
go!
- Prince
Rosie and Tré were being touched in different
ways.
Between kisses under the el tracks, they'd hailed a taxi and
headed back to Tré's. In the back
seat of the cab, Rosie had clambered astride Tré's lap and moved her hands
inside his shirt, clutching and caressing at him while they kissed deeply. His hands wandered down her back, over
her ass, inside her panties.
They were still kissing when she came. The cab driver barely noticed. This was old hat for him.
When they got to Tré's apartment, they exited the cab still
kissing. They kissed in the
elevator and down the hall. Tré
could barely get the door open. Once inside, and the door shut, Rosie broke
away, pulled the oversized sweater she'd fashioned into a dress over her head and yanked off her bra. She stood in front of him wearing only panties and a pair of Chuck Taylor's, grinning. Tré grinned back, pulling his own shirt off and undoing the
top of his pants.
They stood there for a second, looking at each other and
smiling lovesick goofy smiles.
Rosie stepped towards Tré and put her mouth at his ear, tracing it with
her tongue as Tré ran his hands up and down her back, catching hold of a
breast, cupping her ass. She
kissed his neck, his chest, his nipples, moving lower and lower. Tré leaned against the wall as Rosie
yanked his pants down and knelt in front.
She went slowly at first, moving her tongue methodically, and then increased the urgency. Tré planted both hands against the
wall, barely able to keep his balance.
When he couldn't stand it anymore, he pulled away and fell
on top of her, meeting her eyes for a minute, and breaking out into another
grin. He kissed her again, deeply,
moving his hands down her body. He
ran his thumb, gently, over the outside of her panties as he
licked her nipples. He took his
time there as Rosie's breath grew quicker and more ragged. Just as she was ready to come, he took
his hand away and started moving his whole body southwards, licking her tummy,
stroking her sides.
Once there, he slipped her panties off, crawled between her
legs and took a quick taste with only the tip of his tongue. Then deeper licks, exploring. Rosie let out a quiet "Oh
god." Tré slipped a finger
inside her, moving it in tandem with his tongue. She came hard, shuddering, demanding, "Now, now,
now!"
Tré reached into the back pocket of this pants, still around
his ankles, and found a condom.
His hands were shaking and he couldn't get the damn thing open. He knelt above her, struggling with the
wrapper, until Rosie took control.
She pushed him over, straddled him, grabbed the condom, ripped it open
with her teeth, and put it over him.
Once more, right as she hovered over him, they found themselves
grinning. She settled him inside
her and started the motion, up and down, slowly and then quicker. He grasped her hips and moved with her. They were locked together, grinning,
fucking, having the time of their lives.
After a while, Tré breathed, "I can't wait
anymore."
"Yes, yes, yes," said Rosie.
And then it was over.
They lay on the floor.
Tré's pants were around his ankles. Rosie was still in Chuck Taylors. And they laughed and laughed.
They spent three days together in Tré's apartment, ordering
food, watching TV, laughing and having sex.
They were doing it when Brooke and Teddy kissed in front of The
March. They were doing it when
Wally was plying the female L.G.E. staff with cheap wine and cosmetics. They were doing it when Caleb poured
drinks and Gio checked IDs.
And they did more. It turned out that they were both,
surprisingly, fans of board games and so they played naked Battleship. Rosie
examined Tré’s CD collection and found it acceptable. She did some naked DJ-ing for him, which ended up with both
of them doing some naked dancing.
They ordered pizza and talked about what they wanted to be when they
grew up. They argued over the future of Chicago.
They had such a good time.
On Tuesday morning, Tré announced reluctantly that he had to
go back to work.
“Don’t go,” said Rosie, arms wrapped around his waist. “Call in sick one more day.”
“I can’t,” he said, even as he lay back down to kiss her
some more. And some more. He reached for her right breast and
stroked the nipple with his thumb.
He moved his hand down and touched her just how he knew she liked to be
touched, just how she’d told him. It only took a few minutes until Rosie was
shaking and shuddering and smiling, moving her hand to touch him just like she
knew he liked, to use her mouth just the way he’d told her. And only a few minutes later, Tré was
lying back, relaxed, satisfied and happy.
“God,” he said.
“I don’t ever want to leave.”
“Don’t,” she said.
“Let’s just stay here and fuck for a few more days. Call in. Just do it.”
“I can’t,” he said.
“I really can’t. Don’t get me wrong: I would love to. I could live between your thighs. But if I don't get back to work, I'm gonna get fired. So, I’m going to get up, take a shower
and then go make a living. And then I’m
going to come home, and hopefully you’ll be right here when I get back?”
“Hmmmm,” she said, running her lips over the back of his
neck. “Don’t take a shower. You
smell good.”
Tré relaxed into it for a minute more and then, with sigh,
slipped out of the bed. “I will be
back,” he said. “Don’t go, OK?”
“I’ll be here,” she said. “But give me a key. I have a couple of things to do.”
And off Tré went smilingly to work, unshowered, but smelling
good. Like Rosie. He may have been a little concerned
about how he’d look at Bulstrode after the things he’d been doing with his
daughter. But thinking of those
things just made his grin wider.
Rosie hopped out of bed and into a pair of Tré’s boxers and
a tee shirt. She hadn’t had a
shower in two days and her hair had moved past sexy JBF-ed into rat’s nest. She still looked
good. That’s no Rosie magic,
though. Everyone looks good after
that much good sex.
She left the apartment to head back to her house. She needed to freshen up and get into
some clean underwear and to let Caleb know she wouldn’t be making it in for her
shift that night. She’d head back
into work later in the week where there was more money to be made.
She stopped by the White Hen to get cigarettes and a diet
coke. In line, she ran into her
friend, Hector, whom she’d worked with a while back at The March. These days he was working the velvet
rope at trendy nightclub called Lobo.
Hector leered at her in a friendly manner. “Someone had a good night,” he said,
with a wink.
“Don’t underestimate me, Hector,” she said. “I had a few good nights.”
“That’s my girl,” he said. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“Oh, you’ll meet him soon enough.”
“How about tonight,” said Hector. “Do you sexy party people have plans? Come pay us a visit at The Lobo – I’ll
get you in past the line.”
