It Happened One Night

Virgin Annie's night starts out sour but ends pretty sweet.

By ExoticaEroticaInsidaya. Listen to the Podcast at Connected.

 

I slammed Richard's car door and stormed off. He rolled down the window.

"Bitch!" he shouted, loud enough for everyone on my block to hear.

His tires screeched as he hit the gas.

Richard was supposed to take me out on a date and have me home by 12am. I looked at the cracked screen of my cellphone. It read 2am. They were having classic movie night under the stars in Springfield Park, there were showing Now Voyager with Paul Henreid and Bette Davis.

 I told my mom and brother I wouldn't be out too late. I tried not to replay everything that happened in the car, but I could feel a bruise forming on my back where Richard tried to press me into the dashboard. I still tasted his blood in my mouth from when I bit down on his lip. I had said no, twice, and I meant it. He was lucky that I didn't do more than break his nose, punch him in the nuts and bite his lip.

The straps on my dress were broken.

The kitchen light was still on when I cracked open the door, but the house was quiet. Everyone was asleep. I wasn't religious, but I thanked God Mathew wasn't awake to see the state I was in. He attended the same university as Richard and probably knew exactly what dorm to find him in. Mathew had a temper as it was, always getting in trouble for something. He'd kill Richard and wind up on CNN.

The stairs creaked under my weight. I quickly ascended them. I got to my room, stripped, hopped into the shower and let the steam take me over. The streams of hot water stung the bruises forming on my back. I knew better than to go out with him anyway, my brother warned me. He said Richard had a reputation. I thought that was an ambiguous term. Reputation implied that he knew women, how to work them up and get them all hot and bother, and in the mood. Not drag them into a seedy back alley, park his car and grope them from behind his steering wheel. I was so disappointed. After flirting on the phone for weeks, I'd finally worked up the nerve to ask him out. That might've been where I went wrong, asking him out. Mom always said a woman should never ask out a man, but after taking my freshman feminism course I thought the hell with it. I now had to admit it, I was more than disappointed, but more in myself. I was forcing myself to be something I wasn't.

I never felt like any of the other girls when I was in high school, it got worse when I started college. I wasn't like them, I wasn't girly. They wore heels, I wore sneakers. They wore skinny jeans, I wore sweatpants. They played volleyball, I started a touch football team. Even more embarrassing, I wasn't experienced in a certain department that made the other girls in my dorm grab a jar of Nutella and sit on the couch in a circle, sharing stories;  I'd never had sex. I was a virgin. A big, fat, tomboy with a dusty vagina. My roommate asked me if I was gay and I told her no (though I had a mega crush on Beyoncé). I made a note to explore that one day, but my reasons were my own.

It's not that I'd never been asked out before, because I had, just not by anyone I wanted to go out with. I didn't date just to be going out on a date. Dad said that it's better to be single and alone, rather than frivolous. And the right guy might see me with the wrong guy and we'd never connect. Of course, maybe dad was being overprotective in a passive way but something about what he said made sense. He held the same beliefs about virginity. He pushed for me and Matt to have healthy sex lives, so he never taught us abstinence per se, he just asked that we wait until we found the right one. No matter who we chose, he asked that we felt it in our heart, that there was more behind it than raging hormones. He waited for Mom. He said he hoped I found a smart man who respected me and cared, the one. I thought Richard would be the one. I was attracted to him, he seemed smart with all of the things he talked about (nothing was more unattractive than a meathead), and he listened to me like he seemed to care. So I thought, I don't know, losing it to him not have been so bad.

Now, I didn't know if I ever wanted to lose it.

My stomach rumbled.

I slid on a pair of basketball shorts and a baggy t-shirt. I put on my comfort socks, the ones I stole from Matt. They came all the way up to my knees. They were for soccer, but every time I missed Matt, I'd wear them and they made me feel safe. I was glad he was home from college for the week. I finally had someone to go see that new action movie with. I descended the stairs before they had a chance to creak again. I made it to the kitchen and smiled proudly as I recalled the look on Richard's face when my fist made contact with his nuts. I laughed. I beamed. I had taken care of myself. Dad would've given me a high-five, after taking his shot gun from the case. I did a happy dance. I was in such reverie I missed the slither of light peaking over the refrigerator door. I bumped straight into it and banged someone into the racks. My brother's college roommate, Devin, poked his head up from the other side.

"The hell?" he said, agitated.

"What are you doing here?" I said, belligerently.

Matt didn't mention he was bringing someone home with him, certainly not Devin.

"Some apology."

He rubbed his head.

"Who said I was giving one?"

So, this is where I say I can't stand Matt's obnoxiously hot douchebag roommate who has mooched around our house every holiday since his freshman year. The first time Matt came home for Fall Break with Devin, I thought Devin was the absolute hottest man alive. I didn't normally pay much attention to Matt's other friends, because they were all the same, all like Matt. This one was different. Devin was smart. Mom liked him the second he passed through our front door. I guess he kind of reminded everyone of dad. He had the same sense of humor as dad, that same boyish grin, they were both tall and Devin even came from the same hometown. What struck me the most about him was how comfortable he seemed to get with our family and how fairly quickly we seemed to get comfortable with him. That was just like dad too, making friends with everyone, even if they couldn't stand him. If dad were still alive, he would've probably loved Devin too.

The year Breaking Bad had just premiered Devin came home with Matt. From the first episode I knew who the show alluded to. He was my favorite poet. Mom couldn't figure out why Walter White's name sounded so familiar to her. At the same time Devin and I both said, "Walt Whitman".

At that moment, I could have sworn I felt a spark.

It might've been cute, if he didn't look so humiliated. A few minutes later I had gotten up to use the bathroom at the end of the hall and overheard Devin in the kitchen asking Matt if I was on Weight Watchers. My brother caught my eye as I walked by them, cheeks flushed. I wondered why it was that the hottest boys were the most douchiest. Ever since that moment, I hated Devin's guts but he became like a best friend to Matt and, by default, like a brother to me. A brother who I wanted to skate out onto a frozen lake and push onto thin ice like in The Good Son. Mom thought Devin was an angel, sent to Matt and our family to bring us together. It was no secret that Matt didn't want to go to college, especially since he had taken the loans and was supposed to start at the end of the summer when dad died. Matt would call home, crying a lot, which I know can grate on even the best roommate's nerves but Devin didn't seem to mind. He wasn't like Devin's other friends, he was comfortable with people expressing their feelings. Mom would call Devin sometimes just to ask him about Matt and she'd wind up on the phone for hours. Still, I harbored anger towards Devin. I'd never forget the sting of his words. Yet, Devin was family.

The way I was feeling after my date with Richard, Devin was lucky I didn't smash the refrigerator door against his head on purpose, but he'd probably ask what was wrong and he was so damn disarming, I'd end up telling him. I shook my head to myself, deciding it wasn't the time. Mom had made fried chicken for dinner. Matt took out the bowl and put it on the kitchen island. He didn't bother to bring down a plate, he ate straight from the bowl. I threw shade out of the corner of my eye. It was unfair how some people could look hot even will doing the most fattiest of things, like standing shirtless in front of a bowl of greasy poultry, nibbling on two drumsticks at once. His body was superhuman. As he swallowed the chicken I could see it slowly make its way down his throat. It traveled past his broad shoulders and caused each tight muscle in his abdomen to clench as it went down. Watching him eat was like watching the Discovery Channel. His perfect, white teeth barred down on the fleshy fried chicken and pulled the meat from the bone with grace. I grabbed a paper towel and reached for the bowl, but he cradled it in his hands like a quarterback. He blocked me.

"Not enough to go around," he said with a mouth full of chicken, but that was a lie.

There were two whole pieces left.

"This isn't your house," I snapped.

He smiled.

"Didn't you have enough to eat while you were out with Richard?"

I grabbed a Coke out of the pantry and smacked him upside the head as I walked out. He cussed under his breath. I wanted to sit in the living room and watch television on the large flat screen, but it was late and I didn't want to wake everyone up. I walked in the opposite direction, flipping Devin the bird as I passed the kitchen again. I hadn't sat in Dad's study since the day of his funeral. I felt a sudden pang of guilt. Abandoning the study felt like I was abandoning Dad. The study was more "our" place together rather than "his". I loved mom, but I had to admit she wasn't my favorite of the two. Every kid had their favorite parent. Mine was dad and Matt's was mom. Dad even said it once, that I was his favorite. Though his room was dark and hadn't been sat in for a while, it still held his warmth. Tonight, after what happened to Richard, I missed my father. I went to Dad's large DVD collection of classic cinema. He was the one who got me into watching black and white movies. It started with his westerns, so he could assert his masculinity, but a majority of his movies were romance and melodramas. His favorite actress was Bette Davis. He said she wasn't traditionally beautiful, but there was something about her that captured a room. He said I was like Bette Davis. Our favorite movie was Now Voyager. I ran my finger along the dusty shelf until I came to the title. Dad let me arrange his DVDs by a dewey decimal system, because I wanted to be a librarian in middle school. I had all titles set up on index cards and I made everyone have their own library card. He bought me a stamp and inkpad and leather-bound stenopad. My librarian kit sat in a dark corner of the room.

I brushed my dusty finger on my shorts and took down the DVD. It wasn't a flat screen, but the movie was just as radiant on dad's outdated tube. I grabbed the quilt mom and I made dad for one Father's day and plopped down onto the couch. I stretched my legs out on the thick cushions and pushed the start button on the remote. The movie sprang to life. It was at the scene when the doctor discovered the cigarettes in Bette Davis' dollhouse, when the door to dad's study creaked. I glanced over my shoulder and frowned.

"What are you watching?" asked Devin.

I didn't say anything. He took that as an invitation to join me. I made absolutely no effort to move my legs so that he could sit. With one arm he lifted my legs high in the air. He sat down and let my legs go. One fell over the edge of the couch, the other landed on his lap. He apparently didn't care. I hissed at him, but he just fanned me away.

He still had that stupid bowl of fried chicken in his hand.

My foot was close enough to his balls, where if I made one swift movement he'd be seeing stars, but I thought that particularly cruel.

"Now Voyager," he said, stuffing his mouth, "I love this movie."

What did he know about Now Voyager?

He paid me no mind. As he watched, the film reflected off his dark eyes. I couldn't get Matt to sit through one minute of a black and white film before his ADD kicked in. It became evident that no matter how hard I glared at Devin, he wasn't going to pay me any mind, so I left him alone. I slid my other foot back under the quilt. Devin grabbed the end and pulled it over his bare chest. Now I had to share my covers. I grumbled and pouted before turning my attention back to Bette Davis.

Something poked my arm.

It was the bowl. There was one piece of fried chicken left and he was giving it to me. I accepted it, eying him as I took a nibble. He stared straight ahead like a zombie, enraptured by Bette Davis.

He definitely wasn't much of a movie talker. I, on the other hand, couldn't stop biting my nails at the embarrassing moments. I used to make dad pause the movie when things got too intense. Sometimes, I ran out of the room. It drove him crazy, but I just couldn't bear the anxiety. Scenes like the one where he found the tag on her dress and discovered her clothes weren't really hers, the part where she was the only single girl at the party and not knowing how to talk to guys, it was too much to see. I felt like me and Bette Davis were kindred in that moment. I knew that humiliation. I didn't go out on dates either, Bette, I didn't know how to talk to boys myself. That was, if you didn't count my botched night with Richard. The movie was gaining some speed. It got to the scene where they missed their ship and had to get a hotel room. My mouth was dry from the chicken. I reached for the soda can and took a sip. When I looked over, Devin was staring at me. He hadn't said anything for the entire movie, why was he staring at me?

I frowned.

"What's wrong?" I said.

"You mind if I have some?" he asked, more sheepishly than usual. I fixed my mouth to say no, but he had offered me the chicken. I stared at the can. I had already taken a sip from it but I handed it to him, expecting him to tilt his head back to pour some into his mouth. He put it right up to his lips and took a long sip, his Adam's Apple balanced along his throat as the he drank thirstily. His eyes shifted towards me as he drank.

I suddenly realized I'd been staring.

"Drink it all, why don't you," I huffed. He arched an eyebrow at me, let out a loud burp and handed me the can. "You're so disgusting."

He gave me that smug Cheshire cat grin, the one that brought out his dimples. I turned the can over in my hand and tried to drink from it casually, but for some reason it didn't feel casual. I could've sworn I saw him glance at me out of the side of his eye again. He shifted his weight and my other foot slipped under his thigh. When I felt his hand wrap around my ankle as he pulled my leg up from under his and placed it onto his lap, my skin tingled. He didn't say anything, he didn't look at me. He just adjusted his self.

He still hadn't moved his hand from around my ankle. His entire body was under the quilt, so I couldn't see his hand, but I could feel it searing into me. He had never really touched me before, probably because I couldn't stand him, but his large, warm hands gave me a strange tugging in my stomach that I'd never felt before. I turned my legs over a little, thinking he'd move his hand, but once I settled into place he put it right back over my ankle. He might consciously be touching me. The thought slipped through my mind before I could catch it, but I pushed it back, ashamed. This was Devin, my brother's friend, mom's adopted son, the guy who thought I was a cow. I looked down at that empty Coke can. A warm feeling spread to my cheeks anyway.

The room went dark as the scene faded to night. Paul Henreid and Bette Davis missed their boat, their cab left them stranded in the mountains, so they had to sleep together in front of a fire for warmth. Paul Henried watches Bette Davis as she sleeps and plants a soft kiss on her mouth. I'm biting my nails.

Their chemistry makes the tension almost unbearable.

Devin cleared his throat to break the awkwardness. As the movie shifted scenes from the night they spent together to the next morning, he asked, "How do you know Richard, anyway?"

The question was so random, it threw me. The mood instantly changed. It was like pouring a bowl of cheerios, taking a bite, and finding the milk had soured. Richard was the last thing I cared to think about.

"What does it matter?"

"He has a reputation, you know."

There was that word again.

"It was just a date," I said.

I left out that it was almost a crime scene.

"Some girls are so desperate," he had started to say. The memory of his Weight Watchers comment smacked me in my skull like a baseball bat. I didn't need criticism. I crossed my arms and attempted to snatch my legs away from him. He held them in place. "Wait, I wasn't talking about you," he quickly added, "I'm just saying that some of the girls that go after him are desperate. They'd have to be. Any self-respecting girl wouldn't be caught dead with a dude like Richard-"

"Do you think a girl who goes after what she wants doesn't have self-respect? Do we have to wait on the man to ask us out?" I tried to keep a balanced voice, but my confrontational side was rearing its ugly head. Matt said I was Rosa Parks and Bell Hooks wrapped in one. "Why is it that men always blame women for their corruption?"

He scoffed.

"Next, you'll tell me that a woman belongs in the kitchen?"

"Yes. She should be barefoot, too. Pregnant if possible."

"That's not funny." But his sarcastic timing was on point.

"I didn't say anything about women's rights, it's just the type of girls who go for Richard have one thing in mind."

"And what's that?"

I sat up straight and turned my full attention on him. His jaw tightened. If he said something, anything off, I'd bash him upside the head with the remote. I couldn't shake how angry I was, but Devin brought the worst out of me sometimes. I may have been overacting, just a tad. Everything with Richard had my nerves on edge.

"Maybe we should watch the movie?" he said.

"Mmm hmm."

I turned back to the movie, but I knew that wasn't it. If I knew Devin, that definitely wasn't it.

"So, you expect me to say nothing? You shouldn't be with a guy like him," he said, "you deserve better." I sucked my teeth. He needed to leave the damn study. My cheeks were burning hot. Devin was burying himself deeper and he knew it. He started stumbling over his words in a way I'd never seen before. Usually, he was cool, even while pissing me off. In fact, he never backed down from a fight with me. He loved annoying me. "I'm just trying to warn you that he's not a good guy."

"God, already!" I said a little too loudly. "I know. I know he is an asshole. Ok. I was stupid."

Bette Davis and Paul Henried were on a beautiful veranda overlooking the beach. She knew that they weren't right for each other, that she shouldn't spend the night with him, but he wouldn't let her go. He said that if she ran, something primitive might take over his body. Who knew what was liable to happen? Things needed to cool down, they needed to have a cigarette on it. The music in the movie rose to a swell as Paul Henried and Bette Davis locked lips.

"Why are you always snapping my head off-"

"Just watch the film," I shouted. He shut up.

Paul Henried and Bette Davis were at the airport waiting on a plane to take her back to the ship. As they waited in the lobby, the space between them seemed to fill with bitterness. He was such an asshole for making her fall in love with him. If she had been fat, I wondered, would he still have been so quick to fall in love with her overnight. Would he recommend that she join Weight Watchers?

"You think I'm a cow, don't you?" I said so candidly I shocked myself. What was that?

"What?"

"I heard you, three years ago when you were in the kitchen with Matt. You said I needed to go to Weight Watchers. You think that I'm fat."

Devin didn't respond right away. A slow glow rose to his cheeks. His eyes glazed over. I glared at him, daring him to tell me a lie. He still hadn't said anything. I moved to pull my legs away when he grabbed my ankle. The way he looked at me in my eyes, I felt like I was going to faint.

"You misheard me," he said a little too softly. But I had heard him. I know what he said. "I asked your brother if you were on Weight Watchers because of all the TV dinners in the fridge. I didn't think you needed to be on Weight Watchers. I still don't think you need to be on Weight Watchers. You're perfect just as you are. I mean, what I'm trying to say is I think that you're beautiful."

I stared blankly at Devin. My stomach flipped. I couldn't deny that even though I hated him, something deep in me perked when he walked into the room. I never dreamed he could possible feel the same. He made it seem like he had never hidden his feelings to begin with. Had I been paranoid all along? I thought he hated me. Whenever I came around he would tease me about what I was reading, throwing shade when he caught my nose in Fifty Shades of Grey or bugging out when I wore dresses, calling my makeup war paint. He was always snatching things from me, playing around carefree with me, annoying the hell out of me. But just then his gaze was very serious. Under the covers his hand gripped my ankle, his thumb making gentle circles. His eyes didn't shy away from mine, they bore into me, stealing my breath away. I don't know where the hell the tension came from, but the anxiety was suddenly too much. Were our bodies getting closer? Was I leaning over or was he? What was this feeling?

Just as Paul Henried and Bette Davis were about to kiss goodbye, I shot up.

Oh god.

"Water," I said, "thirsty?"

I didn't wait for a ye or nay, I walked, or rather ran, to the kitchen. I barely flew out of my shorts, I hauled ass so fast. My knees were shaking. I think my mind needed to catch up. What was that; what was that? Did I not just hate his guts fifteen minutes ago, now I wanted him to stick his tongue down my throat? I turned on the faucet and sprinkled some water on my neck. When that didn't work I stuck my whole face under the running faucet. I damn near leapt out of my skin when the kitchen light flicked on.

"What are you doing?" asked Matt. Like Devin, he was also walking around shirtless. What was it with guys and wearing no shirts? Did they never get cold? Matt went straight for the refrigerator and groaned. "You ate all the chicken?"

"What? No." I turned off the faucet.

He arched an eyebrow. "Are you just getting in from your date?"

"I've been home for hours, now," I said, honestly, but I felt like I was lying. I felt like my date had just begun in the den. Matt shrugged. He took a soda out of the pantry and walked back towards the stairs. He turned when he reached the hallway. He leaned back into the kitchen.

"You seen Devin?" He asked me, "he was up waiting for you to get in."

A surge of heat rushed through my body.

"Why would he be waiting up for me?"

He crossed his arms.

"You tell me," he said.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Matt sighed.

"If that's the way you two are going to play it," he said, "don't ask, don't tell."

He sauntered out of the kitchen. You two?

"Wait," I called out to him.

Me and Matt had a pretty cool brother and sister relationship. We didn't hate each other like some siblings. In fact, I talked to Matt like some girls talked to their sisters. We talked about boys and girls. When Matt lost his virginity, I was the first person he told. When I smoked pot for the first time and came in high, he snuck me past mom. We were kind of like best friends, but I didn't know if he would want to talk about Devin. He popped his head back into the kitchen.

I came close to him. "Does Devin ever talk about me?"

He rolled his eyes.

"I can't get him to shut up. I almost whipped his ass once, when y'all first met. You being in high school and all, I didn't want him perving out on my kid sister. I still don't know how I feel," Matt's jaw tightened, "but I know Devin. He wouldn't dog you out. And you're in college now, you're a grown woman. You can take care of yourself. But if he does anything; "

"Calm down, Fiddo."

He ran his hand over his dreadlocks and shrugged. "Whatever."

"Matt," I called out again. He poked his head back in the kitchen and I gave him a peck on the cheek. He groaned, but he didn't wipe it off.

"Are those my socks?" He grumbled. I looked down. "Where's the right one?"

I hadn't realized that it was missing.

"Stop thieving my things."

"I love you, too."

Matt smiled and gave me a quick peck on the forehead before making his way back upstairs. My head was spinning with the news that Devin had liked me, had even spoken to Matt about me. I thought I knew how to act around him, but now I felt so unsure.

By the time I returned to the study, Bette Davis was holding Paul Henried's daughter in her arms as she sobbed about not feeling wanted. Devin had fallen asleep on the couch. I tried not to be too disappointed. There were so many things I wanted to ask him, like did he really like me or was I imagining things, but I'd have to wait until tomorrow morning to find out. I drank him in for the first time. Knowing how he felt transformed him in my eyes. He was always gorgeous, you'd have to be Stevie Wonder not to notice, but there truly was something beautiful about him. All of his sharp features had smooth edges. His muscles cut sharply across his abdomen as he took in a deep breath, but they puffed slightly as he exhaled. My eyes followed his sharp jawline to his soft mouth. His lips were slightly parted. He was developing a five o'clock shadow which gave his bookish, boyish face a rugged charm like he could read Keats and skin a bear at the same time. My heart started beating in my chest when I saw that he had my other sock in his hand. I giggled to myself, rehashing how I flew out of the study like a bat out of hell. I'd just never felt that way before, never knew I had a pulse down there between my thighs until it started beating. Richard didn't make me warm down there, not even remotely. I was feeling so blazon I could just about kiss his mouth while he was unconscious. Of course, I fought the urge. I found the remote and turned the tv off. I grabbed the edge of the quilt to bring it back over his bare chest when I felt his arms wrap around me.

He pulled me into his lap and hugged me tight, making a low, guttural sound as our lips connected. His kisses were still sweet from the soda. Years of his pent up sexual energy coursed through his hungry tongue like static electricity. Again, the sparks were almost too much to handle. I wanted to pull away, but I quivered under his viselike grip.

I was seated awkwardly, I didn't know where to put my hand, I didn't know if I was too heavy to be sitting in his lap. My hand landed on his thigh and I felt his abdomen contract. His tongue jerked against mine.

"Mmm!" I moaned when I felt what was growing beneath me. He drew me further into him, kissing me with a new fervor. I couldn't believe this was happening. This was really happening. It was moving so fast. His hand went up my shirt, he unhooked my bra. I had to believe that this wasn't all planned out, but it felt too perfect.

My nipples were so hard they could shred paper.

I became aware of the heated masculine scent radiating from him the more turned on he became. It had a potent, druglike effect on me. It made me want to reach for him. I had never touched a man there before. I seized his erection, surprised by its length and the hardness of it. I stroked my knuckles against it. A weak cry escaped his throat like an eager puppy.

I couldn't believe the effect I had on him. He was lapping it all up. A sense of power hit me.

Then he had to go and graze his hand against my back.

I winced.

The first time, he hadn't noticed. The second time, he pulled back.

"Are you alright?" he asked, huskily. I could tell he didn't want to stop. I kissed him to shut him up, but I winced again and he pulled me away.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

He lifted my shirt and I suddenly felt self-conscious about my love handles, but that wasn't what he was looking for. He saw the bruise from the incident with Richard. He rose so quick I almost fell on my ass.

"Did he do this?" Devin said so loudly, I was afraid he'd wake the whole house. I tried to shoosh him. "I'll kill him," he growled, "I'll break his neck."

My head spun. One minute he hated me, the next minute he had his hand up my shirt, now he was ready to go out on a killing spree. He was putting me through quite the voyage. The man had me all worked up and worked over.

"You'll wake up the whole house," I tried to shush him.

"I don't care," he said, belligerently. He made his way for the door and I had to think quick. I did the only thing I could to stop him. I did what my brother called a soft tackle. I cut him off at the door, stuck my foot out to trip him, and caught him, kind of, as we both went down softly onto the carpet. He wasn't quite expecting that. His face looked helpless as he went down. It took all I had in me not to burst out in laughter. "What did you do that for?"

He was breathing hard. I landed on top of him, wondering if I was crushing him, but he didn't seem to care.

"You're cute when you're mad," I said, playfully, "you should've seen your face."

I imitated his look.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you it was rude to attack someone?" He was still pissed.

"You attacked me first."

He tried not to smile. The floorboards upstairs creaked. I put my hand over his mouth to silence him, as if mom could hear him breathing under her bedroom. He rolled me over and put his mouth on mine. He shifted his weight on his forearms before he deliciously positioned it on top of me. I could smell my own arousal as he parted my legs with his knees. He rubbed his body against mine, his hard-on pressing at the thin fabric of my shorts. Is this what sex was like? Spontaneous?

"Take off your bra," he ordered. I slid the straps through my shirt and tossed it across the room. He leaned his head down and teased my nipples through the fabric. His hand reached down my shorts.

"Mmm!" he devoured my moan.

His fingers sailed forth. His lips sought mine. We finally found each other.

"Annie; " My mother's voice came from down the hall. I never moved so fast in all my days. As we scrambled apart, I tried to think of how to explain what we were doing in the dark. If the movie was still playing, we'd have that to fall back on. Without the movie, the only thing that could explain two people in the dark was the playboy channel. Sorry mom, I tripped and fell on Devin's cock. I did the next most logical thing, I pushed Devin under the couch. He protested, when he thought he couldn't fit, but I knew he could. I used to hide under there as a kid. My heart was thumping in my chest, my shorts were nearly falling off, my lips were still tender from the passion he'd just laid on them. Why was she even awake? Everyone was awake. This is what happens when you wait until your freshman year of college to go on your first date, everyone treats you like you're in high school, everyone wants be sure I got home alright. I guess that wasn't anything to complain about, but it made me feel like some horny teenager. It must've been a full moon.

By the time mom reached the door I had just smoothed my hair down. She switched on the light.

"I thought I heard someone in here," she said, scanning the room like she used to scan for monsters when I was a kid, "what are you doing here in the dark?"

My mind went blank. She looked past me at Dad's old writing table.

"I haven't been in here since; " she grabbed Dad's quilt from the couch and held it in her hands, her voice was a little strained, "this place needs a dusting; " her eyes stopped on something and my pulse quickened, "is that my fried chicken?"

I was about to make an excuse but she stuck up her hand.

"I've had bad dates," I stared at her, wide-eyed, wondering how she knew, "anyone girl who comes home from a date and is still hungry has a story to tell. I was in college once. I know that if you come home hungry, either the date was a bust or you were afraid to be yourself in front of him. I know you could put back a cheeseburger or two. Are you ashamed to eat in front of men? I noticed you've been acting different lately, changing how you dress. You should always be yourself."

God, I wish Devin hadn't heard that.

"I didn't like that boy anyway," she continued, "when a young man honks for a girl and doesn't have the decency to come to the door, it speaks miles about his character. Your brother doesn't like him, neither does Devin-"

I was not having this conversation.

"Mom, it's kind of late, isn't it? Don't you think we should talk about this tomorrow?"

She blinked. "You're right, we'll do something special. Maybe manicures? It's late, dear."

I gave a sigh of relief when she went for the door but she stopped abruptly. I swallowed hard.

"You want to know something," she said, turning around. She sat on the edge of the sofa.

Fuck my life.

"I always thought you and Devin would hit it off-"

"Mom!"

"I know it's strange, but I remember a time when you couldn't stop talking about him. I remember when you used to go on and on about how you didn't know there were guys out there like him and how he couldn't be real and you remember, you told me, you thought he had the cutest tushy? Then something must've happened to make you change your mind, you grew out of crush. I asked you once if you still liked him and what was it you said; ah; he has a large head, the size of a water melon, and a pea brain." A sound came from under the sofa. She was getting ready to lean down. "Did you hear something?"

"Mom!" I practically shoved her. "It's late, really. Let's talk tomorrow. I'll tell you everything."

Her eyes narrowed for a second. Then she smiled and patted my head. She bent down and I thought it was all over, but she grabbed something. When I saw what it was she had in her hands I almost passed out. She handed me my bra. She pulled me into her arms and gave me a hug, which was just too weird. I think she was going to cry. I hoped I wouldn't need therapy for this moment but something told me the awkwardness of this moment would sear into my memories forever.

She pulled back and whispered into my ear, "You're not gay. Thank God."

Yes, I was going to need therapy.

Over her shoulder, loud enough for Devin to hear, she said "You and Devin shouldn't stay up too late. It's time you went to bed. Goodnight, you two."

We both said, "Goodnight."

After Mom closed the door, Devin slid from under the couch. We looked at each other sheepishly and laughed. I guess our moment was over, but maybe it was all for the better. Who knew what would've happened. Not to mention, neither of us had protection. I touched my lips, still a little tingly. I smiled to myself. The space between us was still charged. Devin quickly closed it. He stood in front of me, so close, I had to look up to talk to him. Our lips were close. He maintained eye contact as he leaned down to kiss me. His lips stopped short of mine and he grinned.

"I've been waiting for this, for you," he said. He needed to stop saying these things or I'd melt into the ground. He needed to kiss me. Now.

"Good night," he whispered into my mouth with a wicked smile on his face. I pouted. He reached out and stroked my cheek. "What are we watching tomorrow?"

Tomorrow?

"It Happened One Night?"

He traced his thumb over my lips. "Not yet, but it will.

By Exotica Erotica Insi da ya for Literotica