Let’s look for the purple banana ‘till they put us in the truck. Let’s go!
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.”
“Let me check with Mr. Wonderful,” said Rosie. “We just might see you.”