"Rory," I shuddered out, trying to turn her on further, "where is your other hand?" She continued to gasp and moan through the phone as I heard her vocalizations, sharp breaths, hyperventilations. "What are you thinking right now?"
A period of time has to pass before she can speak again. "Thinking of you...on top of me...kissing...suckling."
"My tongue slides 'round a nipple, completely prone. You want that, don't you, dear?" I hear what I can decode as an affirmative whine. "And now I'm sliding my right hand down your form, slowly, my fingertips the only skin-to-skin contact, the coolness from my palm sliding down across your hot skin." My voice deepens even more into a whisper. "Across the knot of your belly button, the right side folding over the left. In a way, I'm thinking how your mother's young blood created such a beautiful young woman for me to treasure. You're smooth, your entire height stretched out across the mattress, with the scent of a fall New England evening mixed with your lotion, both aromas so strong."
My only response is still nothing but breathing and the occasional creak from her larynx, her microphone at the perfect place. Exactly what I want for now...let it germinate within her mind. You want her to feel that your touch is beyond anyone else. The vixen in me, doing a great job painting the picture.
I knew I couldn't paint it for myself though. No matter the sensual feelings I was having, I wanted to concentrate on her pleasure, and put mine aside for the time being. Rory was the star, the one with the heavier stress, who initiated everything between us. I had to reward her for being tolerant enough of me, and there was no expectation that she had to return the favor.
"I leave long, lingering kisses on each of your breasts, the right and to the left, and then I start to push myself up, so I can meet you mouth to mouth. Brushing my lips against your skin, across your breastbone, up the middle, towards your neck. I'm sliding that left hand down towards the small of your back, memorized like the topography of California to me. I think back to the marathon, where each touch along your spine made you shiver and shake, and before I thought it was just an illusion to only me and you really weren't reacting to how my fingers were working you. Little did I know I was knotting you all up and down, keeping your mind distracted as we waltzed down the hardwood."
It was then I learned she was even worse off than I projected. "You had me so wet, just about gushing, and so not easy to hold off my thoughts when I'm in a dancing pattern. I would've never even thought in reality, you'd be so curvy...or soothing." She says this through a voice with a higher tone than usual, telling me that it's all working out quite well.
"I think I should feel very complimented by that," I said, feeling warmed and flattered by her accolade. "My mental picture paled to your reality in turn. I pictured you as sort of a square, wanting to go slow, not very adventurous at all."
With a deep laugh as she continues her stroking, she proves that she certainly isn't anywhere near that shape. "I can see why you'd think that, God. Ask me what I saw in Dean, please!"
"I don't want to. I just want to focus on my hand sliding along your belly, lower and lower, just drifting down, your eyes focused on mine, lips parted, glossy. Your body, wracked with sweat, some intense pleasure from the blood in your breasts on full flow, your nipples hard from my caressing."
"Mm-hmm," she moans. "Feeling for you...those hands across my waistband...ohhh...ohhh..."
"My other hand is at your waist, each of my nails scratching along your skin, warm and soft. I like feeling your middle, Gilmore...it's like a secret that only I know." More heat, as she exhales, confirming that her abdomen is one of her erogenous zones.
"Parrr...." she drawls out my name, and a shudder goes through me as my eyes tighten that I'm doing this to her. "Oh my God, yess, yess..."
"Darling, are you still circling?"
"Yesssss...ohh...ahhh, keep touching me there...so needing this."
Mmmm, yeah, this is good, isn't it Gellar? You have her in a corner, she's frenzied for a cum, give her something to remember. My inner vixen became my inner cheerleader, trying to help me say the right things and keep Ror at a steady boil before she went over. "I'm sliding off your underwear, so damp with how you feel about me. They never stood a chance when the first thing you thought this morning was that you hoped I would call, you've been anticipating this, like an exam. Wondering how I'd test you with how you'd be satisfied, you were shocked when I actually wanted to partake in this." I prop myself up a little more, turning up the headset's volume so that I could hear every bit of what she was about to do. "I have too, just hearing your voice, wanting to take things up another level. But in the meantime..." I purred deeply into the microphone, my mind filling with divesting Rory completely of any clothing, "...those panties are down, and they're completely off of you."
"They're gone...on the bedpost...nothing left...but you...and I..."
"Just a inquiry, before we go on." I felt a little nervous with the question, but if I was going to take it all the way, the complete picture had to be filled. "Without panties, since I became your girlfriend, you are?"
"Trimmed in a neat triangle...when I shave my legs...like myself clean...helps my fantasy."
My mouth after that question? Watering with anticipation at knowing her more intimately, one day. For now though, my hand was hers, and I had to guide her.
Being vanilla wasn't going to help her along, but thankfully I had something in my arsenal to describe.
"Last night," I began, "I was thinking about you, apart from my mother in the plane, near an exit seat, bored watching the flight go over Delaware on the seatback screen. All alone, no one disturbing me to the left and the right, or kicking my own seatback. I could doze off until the flight landed, and that I did." Everything came back to me about that nap. "You and I, at Miss Patty's...I recalled that one time you told me after the formal, you dozed off with Dean on the yoga mats at one in the morning, you didn't do anything but still you faced the gulag of your mother and grandmother talking you onto the pill?"
"How can I forget?" she grumbles.
"Well, I twisted it around a little..." my color started to fill in the details of my subconscious. "Thought of you and I there instead, after Tristan and Dean actually went after each other, it got pretty bloody between them and they ended up hauled off to the hospital and then to jail with assault charges."
Laughing, she knows how I probably felt that night. "They always seemed like they were gonna kill each other one day." Thinking about what my dream was leading to, her mind was curious about how I got her on the yoga mats. "But we were at odds, how could you have changed that around? That night almost killed any hope of even a friendship between us."
"Two years gave me a new perspective into how you were around me that night..." I smile as I remember the dream. "...you were flirting with me, using your body language, and then your eyes." That surprised her, as she gasped in shock that I would remember that far. "That ugly dress was good for one thing, you got an eyeful of the goods, especially when I went off on you about Jacob."
"P-p-par, I wasn't looking, honest, why would you think that?" I bet she her entire body was flaring a red blush from head to toe as my voice became seductive once again.
"Because, even back then Gilmore, I know you got hot at my anger. I saw that your eyes never left the area between my eyes and my cleavage the whole time: there was a blatant stare on your part. Then when you told me that I was the one that said it all, not you, you gazed up at me as the bodice of the dress tightened against my nipples when I looked up to see the Chiltonian reaction." I knew it was getting to her, as I heard even more harried breathing into the headset.
"I'm sorry...I couldn't help it...that was the first time ever that I realized you had such a bust hiding beneath your clothing. It was never a prominent feature before then."
Perfect, she's biting on! I knew this thing for me went back further than the rehearsals! I was choosing to reveal a few details before I colored in the dream for her. I went on with the true events of the night. "It's perfectly all right, because when I got into the Town Car fleeing the Armory that night, alone, you know what the first thought I voiced out was?"
"Hmm?" she strained, the slow strokes still continuing.
"I asked myself, 'Was she staring at me sexually?'. At the time, it was just the anger and everything else about the night mixing in to tell me no. After a couple years though, I have to think that you were."
"But I wasn't," she futilely argued. "I was pissed off that you were accusing me of revealing Jacob!"
"Really then?" Time to make my point. "Then when was your first sexual dream of me, and what was I wearing?" Ror grumbled into the phone, but I was going to get this cleared up once ad for all. "Take your time, Ror, I have all night."
"I'm not exactly in the best thinking position," she whines.
"You just told me you kindle yourself in Russian Novels, so I know you multi-task!"
"Oh God! Geeze, fine..." despite her thinking, barely thirty seconds passes before she remembers her first sex dream with me. "It was in March last year, after you went out with Tristan and froze me out, while I was in flux with Dean. I was helping you get ready for the date with Tristan, things happened where I ended up in the bathroom with you in your underwear. I watched you putting on my mother's clothes, you noticed my staring. We started to flirt, and before I knew it I'm pushed against the sink, you kiss me strongly. By the end, we had all our clothes in tatters as the dream ended before you thrust your fingers in as I screamed that we were both dead for ruining her clothing!" Her voice goes up several octaves as she summarizes the dream. "I splashed water on my face after I woke up and fled to the bathroom, and thought it a nightmare!"
Meanwhile at this end, I'm laughing out loud at the frenzied description, and then I confess my first sexual dream with her. "That's a good one. My first was during Rebuilding Together when it was 108° that day and we were down to tanks and shorts. I had to leave the job site because I was developing a sunburn and possible heat stroke. Back in bed at the Manor, I had a feverish dream of you serving me a lemonade, spilling it on me, and then things heating up as we try to beat the heat; ice cubes, suntan lotion, and a freezer in a kitchen with bare drywall you fucked me against were also involved. Though why my subconscious suggested we have sex in hot, humid weather is something I can't figure out."
"So you in July last year, me a few months before?" I mm-hmmed my acknowledgment, as her tone turned into warning. "And why were we fixed on boys when we were both thinking about this, Par-Bear?"
"I think we were stupid and committed to our men?"
"Or we just used our anger for each other to cover up how we felt."
"Definitely." I can't believe how heated we're starting, and I'm not even to describing the dream situation. "You know, I haven't even thought about Tristan at all sexually since he left. It's all been you with the occasional actress entering the picture."
"My brain has excised Dean in the last few weeks," she admitted, "no dreams of a sexual variety of him since we arrived in D.C., all my sexual dreams have been of you."
"No one else, at all?"
"Maybe a couple threesomes, but for now, those are gonna stay secret. I don't want to freak you out."
"I have those too, but not for sharing, at least for now." Now I think it's time to bring her off; she's getting there, I can tell. Her voice is tight and all wound up, breath rapid, and it's been at least 25 minutes, I'm surprised she hasn't felt any kind of pain or sudden orgasm.
"Come on Rory, I'm going to tell you now, please don't get freaked out by my dream."
"I won't, promise. Your voice, it sounds so damned hot...I love it when you're cute and demanding."
"All demand from here on out," I disclaim. "I want you to keep it up, don't stop touching yourself; it gets me hot. The thought of you, in your room, so far away, stroking your clit..." I clear my throat along with my warmed mind with a quarter bottle of Diet Coke, continuing on as the sweetness inundates my mouth. "I'm getting to my dream. We're out in the hall of the Armory, you're running to catch up with me, angry that I blamed you. You're in my face, backing me towards a corner, trying to tell me that I shouldn't assume out of the blue. I'm in my mode of not taking in the conversation at all, rolling my eyes and teasing you in my mind as a stupid hick girl who doesn't know what she's talking about. It goes on and on, I'm not listening at all..."
"Yes..." she heaves into the phone.
"All of the sudden, without any provocation, you grab at the side of my dress. You yell loudly, asking if I'm listening to anything that you say. Dismissively I say that I am, but you're having none of it. You're going on and on and I'm thinking about wanting to flee, first the boyfight, and then this. Looking for the exit, I try to leave, but you're keeping me by gripping tightly on my arm."
"'I don't understand why you had to take your cousin', you ask, and I explain it was last-second, I didn't find anyone and Sharon forced him on me whether I liked it or not. It goes on as I try to argue that I have certain expectations, and I accuse you of making me a charity case when you said you would've found someone in your town for me, that I wasn't going to go on a date out of pity." Going back over the bitter part of the dream reminds me of that former hateful personality I hope that I've left behind for good. "You speak up, trying to remind me that Tristan had an open invitation outstretched when he bought his tickets and I should've spoken up. Instead, I shout you down with Sharon-fed bullshit about chivalry and tradition."
The dream started to pick up pace after that I as I go into the meat of the matter. This DreamRory, unlike the meek girl of those two years ago, was the strong Rory of today, trying to call on me to decide once and for all if I wanted to go after Tristan or just keep the feelings to myself. She was also tired of our relationship being based on my jealousy over her as the New Girl, and that she wished to see me as her equal, nothing else. She goes on with this, along with a suspicion that she was sensing through our tension.
"You're speaking to me firmly, and out of nowhere, you take the conversation off-track. 'I don't know what I did to you, Paris,' you say wearingly, 'but if I didn't know better, you let that opportunity with Tristan go on purpose.' I deny it, but you already have something thought up. 'I know that you like him, Par...' and then you start moving closer. 'Ever since I arrived though, you've been more distracted with following me around than anyone else.' I don't know what the hell you're talking about, so I try to deny whatever you're about to say."
My brain is vivid with the image as things start to warm up between us. "'Paris, do you like me?' you say, looking down at me with worry across your face. I frown and say that I don't...but it's rushed and hollow, because it's then you take my hand and intertwine your fingers with mine. It's then you make me realize the truth, the very reason for trying to sabotage you before we could ever be friends. You mention the moat, how you wanted to help me out, but felt crushed when you couldn't. How cold I was to you at your birthday party, yet still went despite the fact, then a week later, let myself go by theorizing Harvard was a large campus and we were both thorns in each other's sides for two years. You know all of it, but reminiscing isn't the point of this dream..." I take a dramatic pause, hoping that Ror's libido hasn't calmed. "It's that even though we hated each other with passion at that time...deep within a dark reservoir within our souls, there was something that was screaming for the both of us to challenge each other, not out of anger or pure hate that we were both competing for the same things, be they the grades, awards...Tristan," I said with a bit of seething.
"I never wanted him," she interjected between heavy breaths.
"I know that now, but remember, this was us way before we could let go. Still, there you were in that hallway, asking me if I liked you, and I denied it. And in that soft, small innocent voice of yours, you correct yourself. 'Not in the friendly sense.' You run your hand up my arm, starting to push me towards the front door of the building. 'Paris, you're about to turn sixteen in a couple weeks, and I see that you're confused about me. One moment you're teasing me by suggesting I'm a loser for oversleeping, but the next you're in my ear whispering that I'm going down. And I'm baffled, because you're very close, enough that I can take in your perfume...and a couple of times, especially when you were yelling at me, I had to gulp down something...that your proximity was getting to me in a way that has me thinking in a different way than I ever have thought with Dean.' I respond to that with a strong denial of whatever you felt, but then you ask me if I could give you a ride home. Some hemming and hawing later, you finally give up, realizing no one else is going to offer you a ride back to the Hollow without charge.
"I wanted an escape from my mother, and we needed to bury the hatchet. We both end up at Miss Patty's about an hour later, talking about things as I evade the topic of my interest in you, because I shouldn't think that way about another girl, much less one I was engaging in an ever-growing war of words with.
"We get into the depot, sit down on those mats, and from there...the dream diverges from our real life at that time. You start to engage me in a light conversation about what a pest I've been, while at the same time we both feel so uptight and out of order in our Formal dresses and tight hairstyles. You look at me, those eyes scanning me, and you ask me normally if you could undo my hair, tight in all of those pins and barrettes. I think nothing of it and I give you permission to as we engage in a conversation about the new unit in Shakespeare with Medina. Your hair fixing starts off friendly, just undoing the tangles and various things keeping my hair up, your soft voice telling me that my mother's hair stylist doesn't know anything about my mane, and you're jealous of my hair. You brush through it and I find it hard to concentrate on my apology, but eventually I do end up getting it out. I hear you behind me, relieved that you don't have to feel guilty about it."
A few more dull details later, I know that I have to get into things, as Rory speaks up to interrupt.
"Par...sweetie? I love the dream, but my eyes aren't, they're getting heavy. It's been about ten minutes since you started." I look at the time in the corner of my Mac, and indeed, it's been too long. My inner vixen is also impatient with my storytelling. You need to get into it! You have that girl stuck on pins and needles! Sleep during phone sex is about the worst thing you do; do you really want to explain to Lorelai why her naked daughter didn't hang up the phone until 6am?!
Time is certainly money, but giving Ror a Thankgiving orgasm was also important! I had to stop wasting time; I was losing my own drive, talking about hair and dream scemantics!
After an apology to her, she reassures me that she can understand. "We're both nervous, and this is your first relationship. You're just happy to be able to share dreams about us." Her voice deepened and her words were serious. "If you're trying to set up a fluffier picture to keep me in a romantic state of mind, don't."
Truthfully I tell her that this is how the dream went, really. She appreciated that, but it wasn't an issue for her. "I'm cupping my breast, thinking about you down there, your mind focused on my orgasm, while I slide the fingers of my right hand along the outside of my pussy lips." Moaning deeply, I can hear the microphone rustle as she feels herself up. "I can see what's happening already, even if it was your dream. We're both there, innocent, our guys hardly satisfying, the anger from the fight still within the both of us, but also concern because you're wounded, dateless because of your demanding mom. I'm on that mat, sliding my fingers through your hair, disappointed with how Dean really was. I'm behind you, thinking about you...ohhh...ohhh...how beautiful you were in that dress, baring all of that cleavage. I also still remember the flowery perfume you wore along your neckline, my mouth watering as I bring my hands around from your back, and then along the sides of your dress. I startle you still...and suddenly, the thought of you being so beautiful enters my conscious. I realize then, my dear," she softly exhales. "From the beginning, you've treated me badly, because you like me..."
"...I've also been territorial about the wrong thing. It wasn't Tristan, it was my own heart." I continue the dream, dead on, uninterrupted. "You soothe me with your words that if you were a guy, there wouldn't have been a second thought about taking me out if Tristan didn't. 'Who say I would've turned you down as a female?' I challenge. I think I've taken you off-track, but you're not thrown off, instead, your slim and pale hands move from my side, and then they cup my breasts, as you bring your lips close to my ear. 'The moment you got in my face,' you say, nipping at my earlobe, 'I wanted to have a go at you. I didn't even remember Dean was there until he shouted from the punch table that he thought we were having a problem.' One hand slides down to my stomach, with the other pushing into the neck of the dress." I shut my eyes, holding the side of my mattress to kill the temptation for that hand to wander when I was describing. "And you tell me, with your strongest tone, that you've been looking at me all night, jealous of Jacob, bored with Dean. When Jacob hit on you and threw you his digits, you lost control and decided to go after me, because in your words, 'I wish that I could take that dress off you right now'...but fate had other plans. Plans, which ended up fanning the flame of your desire."
"Ooooooohhhhhh, yeah..." I can tell that Rory's starting to heat up. "The dress color was ugly, but you...so sexy. I always get off to you in it."
"I thought the same thing of yours, those soft fucking shoulders being exposed, leading my eyes low, you fit it like a glove, and I wondered how I could get your hair down. It matches the shade of your eyes, and my drive is insane, thinking of that dress off to your side as you step towards me, a strapless bra and panties clinging to you barely. I still see Dean, trying to get it off you, and I'm on fire because he'd probably take it off clumsily.
"We turn around, facing each other cross-legged, but not for long. I admit to you that some of that jealousy was a crush, and you know what you say to me?"
"Hmm?"
"'I'm not committed to him.' Your arms drape around my neck as you get to the back tie of my dress. 'He wasn't going to work out, so I was definitely after you.' You undo the snap holding me in, push down the straps, and then you give me a command to flare me up."
"Holy shit!!" She shouts those words so loud that she causes my ear to ring minorly. "You've taken to my aggressive side! What did I say?"
"You wanted me to 'make my first high school dance something to remember,' and for a moment, I feel responsibility take over. But it stops when you push the hem of my dress up so that bared thigh is meeting your core, and it's clear within your eyes that you won't be refused. You wanted me to control you, make you forget Dean...do you want that?"
She pauses, confused as to whether my question was dialogue or not. "Huh?"
Finally, since we got together three weeks ago, I release the language filter. "You want me to fuck you?"
"Yeah," she says wearingly, as I find myself back in my commanding mode. Her answer isn't enough.
"Come on, Gilmore, this isn't one of your lily-covered fantasies! I'm gonna get rough with you...leaving marks all along your body. By the time I'm done you'll be so red you won't be able to wear panties to your grandparents tomorrow!"
"Oooh God..."
"Respond please. I want you, do you want me?"
"Yeah, baby, I do, I do..."
My voice snarls. "Volume, Lorelai, I'm getting pissed. Realizing you knew all the time that Jacob was my cousin the moment I came in. You held it back, and now, you're at my mercy."
"I've been naughty, haven't I?"
"Yes, you have...you don't deserve your panties back...you're going to submit, so I tear them off, into shreds, hiking up that dress, pulling at the zip aggressively. I'm going to get it off you, whatever it takes. We're both heightened, horny, willing to do anything for each other. I commanded you to stand so I can get your dress all off, and in turn, mine falls off as I rise up. You look me up and down, enchanted, your heart a mile a minute, and as it pools down from below my abdomen..." I pause, and let her imagination fill in the long-private blank.
"Y-y-you, you, you only had on the dress." I can hear her start to fall apart based on that knowledge alone. "Just the dress...nothing else." The background of her line is filled with the kicking of sheets. "Oh my God. Ooooohh...my...God!"
"You're getting slick, aren't you, Gilmore?"
"Yes, I am, God, I can feel your bare leg against mine, you push it forcefully in...you have such sexy thighs, they must be so soft."
"Pushing up against it, you cushion your chin against my cleavage, between my breasts...having such a view of my face as my arms lock around you, grasped along the side, and I move you up, so that we can have a long, deep, wanting, toe-curling kiss. I'm sure to ruin your makeup, but I don't give a fuck at all, your virtue is mine."
"I deserve it, I'm so bad..." her voice is picking up speed again. "Crap, you know what you do to me? I don't know how I got through four dinners today not fleeing somewhere! I've been in knots for days!"
"We'll unknot you then. I'm pushing harder, you're getting so slick, like tanning oil against my thigh. God, you feel so good, your pussy slides right against me, perfectly. You spasm as I tell you how much I've thought about you since you came into Chilton...how I wish I was the one calling you Mary instead of Tristan."
"Fuck, Par! Oh man..." she pants furiously. "I hate that name, but you say it so well!"
"I'll never call you that. Your imagination isn't Catholic. You're nothing but Ror, my Ror." I keep my eyes tightly closed, one of my hands playing at my panty-covered cleft. I'm so tight and wound, but my girl deserves all the attention. "You're getting there, hon, come on. I want you to get off so hard you're out like I am when I get really built up."
"Yes....oh yes, oh God, I have a couple fingers in there, thinking of you, on me, topping..."
"Your clit is swollen, sensitized for so long, amplified by our teasing. You're getting tired, but you want that tension released." My words start to break up as I look down at myself. My sweater, usually a loose fit, is bunched up beneath my back, and the bulk of my bust is flattered. The tightness of the blood flow through my body makes my nipples prone, and though not defined due to how tight my 'for Sharon' bra is, they clearly peak through the two layers of material, including my sweater. Now my pants are almost down to my knees, and I lay wide in bed, listening to Rory's whines of pure pleasure.
"Ohhhh, ohhh...I still smell you...ohhh..."
"Imagine us, defiling those mats, in the same place you did the ballet so long ago. Just imagine how proud Ms. LaCosta would be if she knew that you and I thought about being sexual on those surfaces, the only sign we were there being a wrinkling of the material, 'cause I get you back home to Lorelai, and she isn't the wiser. Birth control isn't an issue, nothing is. It's just two girls, becoming friends...or more than that. You can get away with so much, how does that feel? You could never, ever, ever do this with Deano."
"I never would, honey, only with you, only with you...yesss, oh FUCK!" She was starting to get there, the illicitness of phone sex and forbidden settings turning her on.
"The thrill that anyone could walk in on us, just like when you were with Dean, but this time you don't give a damn; you're too fargone to turn back now. You wanna cum for me, feel the pumping through your core as you get to the point with the woman you've wanted from afar for so long, through so much, all of these idiotic obstacles keeping you bonded to an ideal you're not into at all. You want me, one on two, president to vice president. Your thirst for my power, it made you want to drink from me, didn't it."
"Ohh yeah, I love being your VP, I get off thinking about you ordering me around. I'm rubbing into you like no tomorrow. So...sweaty...boiler so damned hot, I'm soaked around myself."
The sweat really gets to me; I think about her straight hair dampened atop her head, the small-town farm girl's pale skin glowing red, her eyes open as she props her head, manipulating her clit at a constant pace and watching herself tremor with anticipation at what she's about to do.
"I wish I was there to watch," I husk into the headset.
"You already are, Par...don't think distance will tear us apart." She shrieks as the beginnings of her orgasm begin to build. "I feel so free tonight, and damned sexy."
"Clench yourself around me, tighten your muscles, just let your satisfaction build."
"I don't know if I can..." She's frenzied and desperate.
But as she's both of those, I'm also firm and demanding. "You WILL, just clench, my leg is right here, you want stars."
"I do, I do..."
"Come on, baby,"
"Paris..."
"Rory..." my words are still firm, though I've now pushed the crotch of my underwear aside, exposing my dampened mound. I haven't even touched myself all that much and I'm starting to feel the beginnings of release.
"Paris...come on, I'm fully wrapped...so tight around you I'm leaving a bite in your shoulder!"
I open my mouth wide, gasping, my vixen thinking that was so hot! "I can feel it, just let yourself build...ohhh...ohhh..."
"Paris, are you...are you..."
"Yes I am..." I hyperventilate, "I don't even have everything off."
"You're full of tension, come on, against me too!" I have three of my forefingers sliding in and out, the material of my expensive underwear undoubtedly ruined.
"Oh God," I cry out, "Oh God, what would I do without you, Rory!?"
"I don't know..." the lo-fi voice is gone and my brain is constructing her voice at a higher quality than what's coming through. "Thigh to thigh now, I want this, I wanna cum!"
"How hard do you feel it?"
"Very hard, like a knot in my gut, wow!" Her breathing is in spasms, as is mine. No longer is there an Eastern Seaboard between us, only inches of space. It's almost real...scratch that, it is real. "Paris?"
"Yeah?"
"Are you crying?" She can detect a hint of desperation in my tone as I encourage her on. This is emotional for me, draining...after everything that happened today, to know the girl that I love took time out of her evening for me, it makes me feel wonderful.
"A little, are you?" I hear it too...the fun that started out with this small idea has turned into another experience her and I would have never expected.
"I'm tired...drained...this is just so unbelievable..." I hear a banging sound. "DAMN IT! I just hit my head on the headboard...oh God, I hit a sensitive spot!"
"Keep caressing there, baby, keep it up...you sound like you're gonna do it...oh fuck!" I'm a total mess, my mouth almost dry as the both of us begin our orgasm.
"Par..." her voice is lowering...
"Ror..." mine is too...I hear a rip coming from near my hand as I thrust; I've pushed the material a little too far. Not enough to wreck them, but it'll probably make them fit odd from now on. Her throat creaks as she feels her flash point hit...
"Christ, I'm gonna...I'm...I..." Before I can encourage her further. "FUCK, PARIS!" More rustled noises into the mic, and all the sudden she sounds muffled as she starts to scream.
She's cumming. Oh my God...she's...my vixen was in utter shock as I heard for the first time in reality, Rory...my Rory, have an orgasm. Not just a regular climax that I might see in a movie, this was a violent torrent of ripples that she was never prepared for, never thought she'd have. I listened, stunned. Unbelieving that I, little ol' Paris, whose nickname could be 'repressed sexuality', be the one who did this.
It was so much for me. She was still muffled, and though she tried to get the words of her description out, it was for naught. The waves kept flowing through her, killing her vocal process. Her grunts and moans were the only guide I had to know how high she was getting.
I was crying, but I was still pumping, in and out, in and out, in a frenzy, desperate to feel what my girlfriend felt. The tears dripped down my face, the emotions behind them overwhelming for me. This wasn't like when I thought about her when I got together. This time what was going through me was a culmination of everything I had ever felt for anyone. Her shrieks and screams reverberated down my body...it remembers all the tension built up ever since I realized I had sexual feelings in any form. Every fucking time Tristan teased me and did the 'measure hands' around each of my breasts, brushing them off as things 'just friends' would do. My hand was in, forefingers near the knuckle as my thumb rubbed my sore clit.
That kiss on a dare...the date Ror set me on with him, how I felt denied because he didn't love me...they all melted into nothingness as I remember everything about her. The moment her ass made contact with my body, my project tumbling down to the tile, that awkward sixteen-year old girl with the flaring outbreak grumbling 'Get a-way from me!' as I brushed her off. I hyperventilated with each flash, her compliment that I looked beautiful in the dress she lent me...the promise that she would be my shoulder after Maxgate. The crush on her face as I stood on those steps at the end of sophomore year, denying that I was jealous of her going out with Tristan.
Then the last year...the almost-kiss at the play...her laugh at my milk rant...how she eventually warmed up to my presence on her alone night...breathing gets deeper and deeper, her blue eyes in mine. My words, I don't even understand them as I focus on everything we've experienced. How her grandfather welcomed me with open arms into the locker kit project ideas...her reluctance, and later determination, of being my VP...Washington...chasing down senators and reps, the picture taken of us...renewal in September.
She's barely calming down, and I'm about to spill over, three months in three seconds coursing through my synapses. Field hockey...late night apology...her wet shirt...the look on her face as my hand slid along her thigh in the Jag...Rory's happiness of finally dumping the Gearbox...the bridge askout to the marathon...
Getting there, almost. It's like I'm not even within myself anymore, I'm like a ragdoll, the only sound in my mind her sounds of pleasure. The dance...the closeness...the win...Eternal Flame...the admittance...the first kiss...first date...first fears...first coming out...Lorelai knowing...
My sweater is probably going to need a strong dry cleaning, it clings to me hard. And then the final image comes to me with her settling...it's both of us, in the same bed, grinding against each other, both so happy with just being there, together, the both of us. I'm looking at her, cried tears dripping onto her cheeks from mine, the salt combining with her chocolate latte and my vanilla tastes...
That's all I need. I scream her name into the phone, loud, thankful for strong Florida hurricane building codes keeping a concrete wall between me and all those other people. Not that it matters, because for that one moment, I'm with her, in Connecticut, alone, only us. My clit sends off a tremor that stills me like an electrical charge, coursing through my brain, neurons, my bloodstream. She was still going on, a second wind flowing through as a 'FUCK' slid through my clenched teeth, this one just as hard as the first. Mine was one full, long, arduous path to satisfaction, however. Mussed, tangled hair sticks to my cheeks; I'm ruined.
The cum I had, wearing the shirt I borrowed her, is nothing now. That session may have knocked me out, but it had nothing connecting to it beyond an unfulfilled lust. This pinnacle outshone that because I was able to share it with Rory, and in turn, she was able to let me drive her to her own le petit morte. I had managed to bring her to an orgasm with words alone, not a touch between us. That it turned out to be such a strong feeling it would have me convulsing also, that was unexpected.
It took us both two minutes to settle down, both wordless as we let the last of the tension flow out from us. I stimulated a little longer, some residual sensitivity keeping me stuck to the bed, while on the other end, Rory breathed in and out, re-acclimating her lungs to a normal breathing pattern while letting those last thoughts of her flow out. Everything that had been shared was so overwhelming, and I could still sense her choking back some emotions, the overwhelming stimuli such a new emotion to both of us.
I pushed down my underwear, soaked with arousal, along with my pants down to my ankles, kicking them off and pushing them to the side in an attempt to settle my body from the sexual overload it just felt. I push up the duvet to cover myself and then take out the headset so I can get my shirt and bra off. It takes a bit longer than usual, and when I unhook from behind and ease the strap down, dark red welts appear on each side, the straps tightening as I became aroused. I grumble as I slide my breasts out of the cups, my nipples overstimulated and hurting like hell from being stuck without any stimulation to ease the want. It's a lesson to be learned for the next time.
All my clothes off, I lay on the bed and put the speaker back in my ear, too emotional to say anything, bringing the soft covering of the bed close to my body. I imagine Rory is doing the same thing, and that we're spooning into each other, both of us taking the We're all connected slogan of early 90's Ameritech to a level never expected by a copy writer. The emotions are spinning through us and this has been a test of our relationship, whether we could stand the distance of four days apart without any contact at all.
That would be an emphatic no, in case you're wondering.
Finally, one of us speaks again. Thankfully it's her, because my larynx needs time to recover.
"I can't move."
A pause of fifteen seconds to reacquire my monotone. "You can't move."
"I cannot move." Rory squeaks, trying to muster up strength. " Tryptophan and an orgasm...strangely causing me to tingle and not move."
"That's good, right?"
"Yeah...I think it is." She brushes the headset off to the side. "Cord not helping, right on top of my nipple."
"You're going to get to sleep at least," I say wearingly.
Tired, she laughs. "If I'm not up by 7am Monday, come into my room and dump that bucket of water you promised. I might be a Sleeping Beauty, Par-Bear."
"What if I miss my flight? It's a strong possibility right now; I can't move myself."
"Of course you can't, you have it worse than me when it comes to nerve endings." She laughs again. "I heard you getting all your clothes off, nothing like a naked you to make me feel better."
"Damn you and those dime-sized areoles, Gilmore!" Of course, said in jest. "What did you muffle into?"
"Poor Colonel Clucker, he's never gonna be the same. Scarred for life, I tell you!" Stuffed animals, they're always the first to be sacrificed for the sake of a relationship. Though an odd thing to witness I'm sure, a girl swearing obscenities into her stuffed chicken. But something I've experienced before with my first Tristan fantasies in puberty.
"I'm sure he expected it one day. I used to relieve some feelings with an FAO Schwartz bear I got for my 11th birthday."
"I just never expected you...or I, to...you know." Voice at a high pitch, I've tuckered her out. "I mean...well, damn. I thought Monday, that would be enough. Now, the line...I don't know."
I still felt the power of what happened. "I actually cried. I've never done that before, self-induced. I could probably pinch my clit hard and not rile up anything, but the thought of you and I. It did something, triggered my want for you further."
"Here too, I was just doing it slowly, and then, more and more, until I was fargone, no turning back. I mean, I couldn't go another time, really, I soaked my bed. I...I've always dressed for bed, but tonight, I can't, it would be too much."
"You don't have to then," I cooed, "I will give you permission to sleep nude."
"I already did, Monday night. Then the next night I had on all my clothes, but before I finally fell asleep, I was down to panties. Last night I just did panties. Strange to me, it's like...like..."
"You've been freed because I accept you as you are, not as you should be. You're not a future socialite, you're just my Ror, that's all, and you've taken me as I am, slight chubby tummy and all."
"Yeah, that could be it." She hesitates into the phone. "I would've rather you were here though."
"I would've rather been there too," I say sadly. "But my flight gets in Sunday at 5:30pm, you'll see me again. I promise."
"I want to see you again. I want to be with you again. Just us, here on the phone, I thought it would be good enough, it would sate me. But I want more."
"You and me both." I try to cheer her up. "How about if you leave your phone on silent the next couple of days, you have no one to call, right?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"I'll leave mine on vibrate too, and if we see each other's names, we don't answer, we don't talk, we don't text. Instead, we leave voicemails, and we dial out to hear each other before bedtime. I'll be suggestive in mine, the same for you. I know it's radio silence, but we'll still be talking in some form."
"I'd like that, probably easier on my system," she jokes. "I like your sexy voice, it's so...un-Louise. Like you're looking to seduce me, but you're not out there and wanton. It's just normal, and perfect."
"You're soft and tentative; it works for you. Screaming is nice, also."
Sighing, she seems to shake her head. "It's a turn of the tables--I expected you to be the screamer, but you're as soft as a mouse."
Oh, she has me smiling and thinking that I could challenge her to a scream-off. "I'm just learning to catch up here, Ror, just wait. I'll be practicing."
"Thankfully we have time away to recover now, I think we both needed that." I agree with that, and feel the conversation whither as drowsiness starts to hit her. "You know what?"
"Hmm?"
"I think I'm ready to fall asleep now and I'm saying to hell with Black Friday tomorrow morning, no matter what Mom lures me out of bed with!!"
"She gets up at 3am and slugs people at Target with her purse once the doors open, doesn't she?"
Rory laughs out loud. "She has a whole map planned out, and I'm used as a decoy. Don't know how useful I'll be though. I think I'll be feeling this into tomorrow night. But...I guess I'll get up; traditions don't get pushed aside just because of small things like a first mutual orgasm."
"I know what you mean, hon." I sighed as I went into my...rather, Sharon's, plans for tomorrow. "We have to do the touristy things around Daytona tomorrow, all together, and then Saturday is Disney World. Usually a fun event for any kid and teen, but after last year where we went to the most un-fun parts of the park, I'm looking to get out of it."
"They couldn't possibly be that cruel," she says, and I shake my head.
"No roller coasters or water rides for us, instead we do all the boring and awful parts, including the hackneyed CBD that is Downtown Disney and the studio tours. I could care less about seeing the very stage where Britney, Justin and Christina spawned their careers from the Mickey Mouse Club, but a few of my teenage cousins means my fun idea of a tour of Epcot is kaput."
"Lorelai would have their heads that they could enjoy that!" Her voice is starting to settle down and calm as the afterglow starts to fade away. "You could always fake illness, the dinner didn't sound like it was well-made so you could go with that, use it to your advantage."
I smiled at Rory's resourcefulness and brainstorming. "You're not suggesting I lie to get out of a family vacation, are you?"
"My mom does it to get out of two or three dinners with Grandma a year and it works."
"I think I just might." I lay back on my bed, wishing I didn't have to get up, but eventually I would. With 20 other people and most importantly, that perverted Uncle Fred within this condo, being nude for a long period of time would be a tactical error, and according to quite a few of those religious nutjobs, 'a sin in the eyes of God'. Uh, I think he's looking at Cassie's tummy tuck and Mother's hideous boob job as worse sins, especially on an occasion where they have to wear a bikini. The good thing about those two was they were walking billboards to convince Louise and Madeline that exercise was a better way to look hot and tone up than plastic surgery.
I get that thought out of my mind, thinking about the natural beauty of the one I can't stop thinking about, her soft breathing soothing me from the headset speaker. It feels nice to have someone in my life so inartificial, loving, kind, and beautiful, unaffected by cynicism and the complex difficulties facing women today. Just three days ago she had defended me against her mother to make it clear that we're not going to be stopped by the past, that we're committed to making this work.
And now, I have to say that I'm thankful for her on this night.
"Rory?" I questioned.
"Yeah?"
"I really needed to hear from you tonight...thank you for letting me do what I did."
"There's no need to," she said, "Paris, if it's on your mind, whatever it might be, I don't care what it is. I want you to share it, and I will listen and consider whatever ideas you might have, wherever they come from. That's why I drew closer to you than Dean. He never let me go off the script; it was his way or nothing at all."
"But, but, what if one of my ideas...it freaks you out? You might consider--"
She cut me off before another word could be spoken. "Laughing at the concept, then shrugging it off and suggesting something else." Rory sighs contently. "I didn't summon the courage to ask you to be my girlfriend just so we could do the same boring things everybody else does. We both read a lot, we think a lot, and from your REM state, we both dream a lot. I'm not the girl who came into Chilton two years ago, inexperienced and green. You've whipped me into shape, and milady..." she whispers the next few words seductively "...you've created a monster."
I have to shut my eyes quickly, audibly shuddering at the idea of this innocent girl drawing out my aggressive, sexual, and demanding dream version of her into reality. "Rory..."
"Just you wait until you get back into Connecticut, sweets, you're going to a very wanting girl on your hands, denied of your touch and kiss for days and days." Oh dear God, I'm going to be leaky at every thought of her until the flight home! And she knows damn well she has me being a pile of goo.
Then with a yawn from her after saying those words, I have to remember that it's late and we're both filled with turkey, so sleep will be coming soon.
"Ready for bed then?" I asked.
"Beyond ready for bed," she says dreamily. "The moment I hit END I'm out, guaranteed. I could've never thought, in all my time knowing you, that you'd end up doing this to me."
I shake my head, also surprised at myself. "No way I could've either, that was raw. I didn't even think about it all, beyond the dream." I use my left hand to brush the sweat from my forehead. "But it was definitely fun and balanced out this awful day for me. It was worth the wait."
"You're as delicious as a dessert course," she says softly, holding back a laugh. "Sorry, after so much food today I had to make that quip, it was just sitting there in my mind!"
"If I was there I'd be giving you a dirty look, but you lucked out, Gilmore. Just don't do it again." I shook my head and smiled despite what I said, and started to close up the call. "I hope you have a good sleep, and good luck finding things for everybody." I double-check to make sure that they're going holiday shopping. "You are doing that, right?"
"Of course we are...it's just that there's this one thing I've been meaning to ask you."
"O-kay...shoot." I didn't know she was going shopping for me already, it's only been three weeks. Probably asking what CVS imitation perfume I prefer, I thought to myself, knowing her financial limitations.
"Frederick's or Victoria's?" Uh, color me speechless...was she trying to kill me?! Thank God I had the choice right off the top of my head.
"D-d-definitely Victoria's, no doubts. Sharon shops at Frederick's and drags me along; it's embarrassing and tacky being in that place and buying from it!"
"Thank you Paris!" I'm sure she enjoyed asking that, since I won't be able to get the image of her within a VC fitting room doing her best Heidi Klum impression out of my mind all weekend.
"You're deluded and an evil tease, Gilmore!" I seethe out.
"You think that now," she coos, "but Monday, back in school, you'll be undressing me with your eyes, trying to find out what's on beneath my blouse. Just that alone...it'll make this trip all worth it."
"It will," I respond, thinking about how special it was that Rory was picking out things to wear, just for me. It was warming to know that I was influencing her style in some way. "If you could get some front-closers perhaps, something that gives you a slight boost upward. I think the best moment of the school day for me is when Miss Peters leaves and you undo your tie, those three buttons, and then untuck your blouse, that line down your sternum visible up to the point where you give me a taste. I can look within your shirt, when you bend down to look at the layout on the table, or examining press copies..." I felt my mouth water as I spoke, the picture of looking in and seeing the definition of the top of her breasts, the pale red-pocked skin disappearing beneath soft, embellishing lace and silk cupping each breast. That simple but delectable image is such a calm influence helping get me through the tedious drafting and printing processes of the Franklin.
She takes the flirt just a bit further on, her tired voice almost ready to give into her psyche. "Anything special below?"
"You can do whatever you want."
Ahh, but Rory is perceptive. "I can, at least until I'm in the archive room as you keep the rolling ladder steady from above, looking up to see if I'm all right. Or if I have to get on tiptoe to reach for a book in class on the high shelf."
Looks like she's onto my snuck glances, damn. I doubt I can keep many more glimpsing secrets from her. "If you'd go with a higher cut, you'll hear few complaints from me."
"I will see what I can do, I have a little bit of a budget there for myself. I've been saving up some of my Inn work money and birthday cash for fun stuff like tomorrow's trip. Everything else usually goes to the Fez fund or my Harvard jar."
"Just one thing, dear--"
My concern was quickly abated by her sense of worry within my tone. "Lorelai will think I'm at the mall bookstore, and I will be. Just long enough to buy a couple books and use the bags from there to sneak my purchases under her nose after I leave Victoria's Secret, I'm not trying anything on for her!"
I laughed, still remembering the commandments Ms. Gilmore scared into me only a few days before. "Why do I feel her rules won't last long?"
"She's just protective, you know that. But as she gets comfortable, thankfully she also becomes forgetful of things." Rory yawns one more time, and it's longer, so I know it's probably time to wrap things up. "It's time now."
"Yeah, it is." My voice sounds down about letting her go. My cell phone then beeps its error message for a low battery, and I know I have to leave her. "You sleep well then Ror, and have pleasant dreams."
"I will," she affirms softly. "You too. Hopefully of the both of us there, together."
"There's no doubt about that there. You were wonderful tonight, we took a great step forward."
"And you were amazing for suggesting we do this; it helped my critical and mental thinking skills."
"Mine too, this phone thing kept me on my toes, never tedious." Only we would get off on logic and thought processes, we so have to be abnormal. Not that I'm complaining...
"All right, I'll talk to you sometime this weekend; you know where to call if the voice mails don't suffice."
"How about during dinner tomorrow," I suggest dirtily, "at the dinner table, the phone on vibrate in a pocket as you talk to Em--"
"Don't you dare!" she shrieks. "Great, I'm going to have that on my mind!"
"Hey, you're the one saying you're picking out underwear for me, I can't have all the fun!"
"You're right, I deserve it after all." She sighs and curls into her sheets. "Good luck with the rest of yours, and don't let them get to you."
"It's been seventeen years, they won't, promise." I move my hand towards the handset to find the END button by feel. "Goodnight, darling."
"Goodnight, my dearest." I pucker my lips together and make a kiss noise as a buss the microphone. She does the same thing, closing out the conversation, and then hanging up her line as I hear her voice disappear from mine. I hit my own END button, bring the phone up, and disconnect the headset as I read the display to see how much time has gone by;
Length of call 1:14:23 - Current time 9:22pm
Wow...so much for Daddy being thankful he didn't have a daughter who yacked on the phone all the time! The phone actually felt warm as I placed it into my hand from the antenna and transmitter's heat, and reading that the both of us talked that long? It made me realize how much of a connection that we really had. Every minute of that conversation was enjoyed and it's nice to finally think that my longest call ever is now not to anyone representing Harvard or any one giving me assistance in getting into that school. I feel a smile wash across my face as I get up, draping the blanket around my body as I dig into my hardback luggage looking for the cordless phone charger, a change of panties, and pajamas. It's unbelievable to think that an unwanted trip to Florida was another step in taking my resolved and composed self off-track, and in place, my true self is finally coming out and forming as things with Rory ratchet up.
* * * * *
I think about all of the last two hours, and the day before that as I look out the window, tired, but still awake because I still feel all alone down here without Rory. My hair in a sloppy ponytail to the side, I look down towards the beach across the highway, overhead lights dotting the landscape of the sandy beaches below. The light fades into nothingness within a few hundred years as the peninsula meets the ocean, the only visible objects for miles east being the bright moon shining across the whitecaps of the Atlantic.
I remember back to being a small child, when my father had two vacation homes on the Long Island shore of the Sound, and another one near Provincetown on the Cape. All three of us and Fran would go to either of the homes for a month in the summer, and I found myself released from all of my obligations as I could just be a child and have fun, no matter Sharon's begging that I needed to stay in the house and study. However, my father believed in solitary childhood experiences, so with Nanny watching from above, I was able to head down to the private shoreline at each house and just do whatever I wanted to at the beach. Most of the time, I would sun, but more often, I would swim, the temperate water and mild current giving my muscles a workout, though the water of Massachusetts Bay did a number on my hair. I would just spend all day there, occasionally sharing the moment with another kid, or Madeline and Louise as we spent those long summer hours just enjoying the water and the beach.
The best moments though were at the Sound house when I snuck out beneath Fran's nose at four in the morning, ran down to the shore, and would watch the sun rise to the east over the Hamptons. It was such a beautiful sight to me, knowing renewal was coming, that I had another chance to make this day better than the last. I'd listen to the songs of the birds in the trees on the bluffs overlooking the beaches, tranquil and quiet, the waves crashing in at my bared feet, jeans tucked in up to my thighs. I'd watch for the time it took for the sun to fully rise above the horizon, and then I would climb the staircase back up to the house, hoping my new day was as good as the last.
Later, vacation trips would become few and far between as my father inherited the family company, finding family time lacking, and Sharon became the one to control my social life. Then it was time to be thrown into the awkward camps of upstate New York, fending off advances from guys I didn't care about and friendship from snotty bitch girls looking to me only for my anger, not my kindness. I try to forget camps as much I can, they were never positive for me (one morning where my bunkmates poured water on the crotch of my jeans while I slept, and then made it out like I wet my pants sealed that forever).
By the end of summer 2000, Daddy had sold that Sound vacation home because the rowdy hip crowd had found the Hamptons and he could get a good price for the place, so we had one last week at the summer house. The last morning we spent there was Labor Day, and while Sharon stayed behind to catch more rest, my father and I made that last trip down the steps towards the beach, and my rock, the one I would always watch the sunrises from. We sat down on it together, his hands across my waist, enveloping me in his comforting arms as the first peek of daylight appeared over the horizon.
"Par," he said softly, "do you know what happened the day before I met your mother?" I was curious, so I asked him. He recalled that morning 22 years ago as if it was in the current time. "I watched the sun rise from the library in the Manor, and my first thought that morning was, 'will I ever find love?'"
"That can't be true," I said bitterly, my love for Tristan still unrequited. "You wished on the Sun?"
"I did, Sweet Pea," he said, using his longtime nickname for me. "The next evening, I was at Darryl's wedding, and I was content to be alone and in peace, I avoided the garter throw and went for the cold cuts tray, that reception was horrible, duller than the actual wedding." His brown eyes were wide as he recalled the moment he had met her. "Shar had come to the party because her father knew the friend of a friend of a friend of Darryl's, and she went out of obligation to her dad to represent him at the wedding. She was bored, I was bored, and somehow when I her saw at the cake line, that purple dress she wore sliding across her perfectly, those dark eyes, the way she laughed when someone told her an awful joke about Darryl's later wedded fate...I got butterflies. Just imagine me, trying to approach that impeccable woman, thinking to myself, 'is this the one? Is she meant for me?'. My hands shaking, cursing to myself in schoolyard Hebrew not to screw this up." He smiles and laughs at the exact moment. "And you know what happened?"
"You fell in love?"
"I tripped on the sole of my shoe and knocked her into the cake!"
I shriek, shocked, because no one ever told me the exact meeting. "Daddy, you're kidding me, no way!"
"Klutziness runs in your blood, Sweet Pea, I was mortified! Here I was at an event for one of my closest friends, I find the woman of my dreams, and she ends up with a face full, and a brafull, of butter cream! Oh God, I wanted to run, I had just ruined a wedding and any shot at Sharon because I was so stupid! My own suit ended up with lots and lots of cake on it too as she threw some at me, cursing me out and saying how dare I trip and make her fall into the cake."
"So she didn't like you," is what I got out of it.
"At first," he clarifies. "It took us three months to even get to that first date. We kept bumping into each other around Hartford, first at the dry cleaners where our wedding clothes went. Next, at a few events here and there, including a gallery opening, charity gala, wherever we were, we were both there. She wouldn't even look me in the eye because I took down her social standing quite a few points." I begin to think he resorted to drastic John Cusack Say Anything moment to woo her as he went on, until he got to the thick of the tale.
"Let me tell you, you have her anger, you have her drive, and damn right you've got her stubbornness. So I'm at a dead end with her, and finally it comes to me. No way she responds to basic wooing. And I'm hopelessly in love with her, like you are with your blonde guy. So I think about what I could do to get her, and nothing is coming to me at all. I think about giving her a replacement outfit, paying the dry cleaning bill, anything. It seems too chauvinist to me to do that, insulting to the independence of a woman. It gets to the point where your Nana and I are in the kitchen, her trying to tell me this crush isn't the end of the world, but she'd help me out any way she could."
"So what did you come up with?"
"I found out where she lived and I went over there to try to woo her. And wouldn't you know it? Grandma Martinez-DeBartolo has standards, she would never accept her daughter going out with a pharmaceutical chemist! But I went through with it, no matter what." He smiles, the young love like yesterday to him. "I knock on her door, ask to see her, and get refused. I tell the woman that I just have to give Shar one thing, that's it, I'll be out of her way forever. 'Fine, come on in'. She concedes, and her maid guides me upstairs to her door. The maid announces my presence. At first, she refuses to let me in, tries to have me go away. But I notice something in her voice as she asks me to leave." He stops, picturing the moment clearly. "She was crying."
"I met her at the worst possible time, and learned the reason she rejected me...she was going out with someone already, some meathead discus thrower from UH. I sat down next to her on the bed and asked her what was the problem, and she said she didn't like him anymore, and she didn't know exactly why. He wasn't violent, nor mean, he was just kind of not the right guy for her. But, she was mad at me."
"You didn't do anything though." I don't understand the reason, until he lets me know.
"Dear, she wasn't mad at me because I put her in the cake or ruined her love life. She was mad because she fell in love with me, and didn't know how to approach it because she thought she was too good for me. It took some explaining and apologizing on both our parts to clear the picture up, but eventually, things smoothed out, and after a couple friendly outings, we finally kissed. And from there, we never looked back."
"That's why she threw the cake at you in the wedding picture then, for a joking kind of revenge?" I laughed at looking at those old pictures of them, in happier times.
"I deserved every piece of cake that hit my face...and I loved it." He smiled, bringing his graspy hug tighter. "And I love her." Then, a kiss on my forehead. "And you. Without you, my life wouldn't be what it is. You're both the reason I live on, because without you two, there's nothing to look forward to."
"I love you too, Daddy," I said softly. "So a wish upon the sunrise?" The first peek of the circular object appeared in the offshore waters, and it was time.
"Yep, you can go ahead." I started to make my wish aloud, but he covered my mouth with his hand. "No, Par, it shouldn't be shared; it stays a secret, between you and the sun."
I noticed the similarity that the Sun is actually a very close star. "Why do I have a feeling this is like wishing on a star?"
"Just think of it as the most important star, Sweet Pea; your wish is to come true for sure."
I did just that, holding back from anyone what exactly I did wish for, though love was obvious to my father. As we went up the stairs for the last time, I held hope in my heart that it would come true within weeks, maybe even days.
My wish stayed unfulfilled for two years. And like a comet crashing into a planet, my father didn't know at that time in four months, his wish would fall apart, his heart crushed as the heartless woman who had borne me had reached her breaking point and fully fallen out of love with him. I don't know if he still believes that wishes are something not to be made, that they're just something silly created by a philosopher back then for nothing but entertainment value.
Whatever they are, I have to believe they're true. Looking out towards the beach, I still recall that morning, remembering what I said into that largest star in the solar system.
I wish that I would fall in love with someone, and they would have my heart forever.
I could've never thought that replacing "Tristan" within that sentence to "someone" would change so much, and it would turn out to be a person I wouldn't meet until the end of that month. That I would start out shunning and freezing them out from ever getting to know me, taking every opportunity to shoot down their roots, and use their past against them.
Nor could I predict the person would destroy their bond to me so abruptly and with all the cruelty they could spare, and the one I didn't welcome in to know me would become the most important one in my life.
I could've never even thought that instead of a male, I would fall for another woman, so innocent, unaffected, cynicism quickly shot down with her sarcasm, quick wit, while I awed at her attention to detail, how she would never get down on anything, that everything she faced was a challenge.
For all the reason, facts, definites and reality in this world, that one wish on the sun would bring Rory into my life, I could never imagine that as I began my sophomore year.
There's no way I'm giving up on her, ever. No one will stop me from keeping Rory's love. Sharon may have crushed my father's soul with the tip of her stiletto heel, but because of her, my heart is hardened, only letting a select few in. I'm not going to lose her, and I will give up anything to prove it true.
Looking out the window, I know I'm in for a fight to give her my heart, fully. And as I shut the blinds and prepare to fall asleep, the moonlight fading from view as they close.
Sharon can do whatever she wants to keep me away from her. Tonight however, I've had a taste of what a relationship on all cylinders can feel like. Not even in the same room together, we have nothing but chemistry and mutual admiration for each other, and I know that soon that it will germinate into a full love...