Amy's Smile Ch. 02

Of course I could have just said to hell with her and got off while her engine was still running. But as I've mentioned before, I have this absurd compulsion to behave like a gentleman. And a gentleman doesn't ignore a lady even when the lady in question is howling like a dog in heat and using words like "Fuck my cunt hard, you big beautiful piece of meat!" Especially then.

I decided that a change in position was necessary if I was going to succeed in my goal of giving her a second orgasm before I had my own little death. It took some doing, but I finally got my rapidly numbing lips away from hers long enough to gasp, "Let go." I don't think she heard me though and it took a few more tries and finally a slight nip on her upper lip to get her attention.

"Huh?" She finally said.

"I want you on top," I said as I pulled my reluctant cock out of the tunnel it had become so at home in.

She giggled, "Okay."

This was much better and in no time at all my fingers were stroking her little love knot and she was gasping and plunging harder and harder down on my dick. Then with a squeal high enough on the register to shatter glass, she announced the arrival of her orgasm and I figured if it was that good for her, I might as well try one of my own.

We lay there sprawled over each other. Well to be honest, Rachel was sprawled, I was just trying to breathe with that suddenly dead weight draped over my chest. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore and pushed her now compliant body off of mine.

"Oh baby," she murmured already half asleep. "That was so hot. You were great."

I opened my mouth to offer my own compliments, when suddenly I stopped. She was right; the sex had been hot. But now that my brain was working again I realized hot or not, something wasn't right.

This thought took some time to soak into my endorphin saturated brain and I was worried I'd been thinking too long for politeness and that Rachel would think I hadn't liked her. I turned to Rachel to see if I could make up some bullshit to show her that I really did appreciate our romp on the wild side, but it wasn't necessary. She was asleep, snoring softly and completely unaware that I was even beside her, let alone going through some epiphany about the emptiness of anonymous sex.

I leaned down and kissed her dark and now slightly sweaty dark curls. She giggled in her sleep and then rolled away from me. I knew what the only memory I was going to take away from this night - Rachel's giggles.

I slid from the bed and started to hunt for my clothes. After I found them I stumbled around until I found the bathroom and cleaned myself off, finally disposing of the full condom I'd been carrying around like a party favor. When I was dressed, I walked quietly into the bedroom and stared down at the woman I'd just fucked.

She was pretty and sweet and someday some guy would probably think she was the reason there were stars in the night sky. But it wasn't going to be me. It surprised me, but for a minute I was a little sorry about that.

I rummaged around until I found a piece of Kleenex and then with my pen I wrote her a messy note tearing the tissue, but not figuring it really mattered. I left her my phone number, but I wasn't worried that she'd use it. If I was honest about it, Rachel was no more enamored with me than I was with her. All night long there hadn't been anything more in her eyes than lust, and she was attractive enough to have plenty of numbers of guys that could help her out with that.

I called another cab and made my way back home to the now dark and empty (except for my lonely Subaru) parking lot at the bar. Then I climbed into the cold metal box and drove home through the quiet streets. I smelled like smoke and booze and Rachel and I wanted a shower to wash it all off. I was depressed. Sure I wasn't horny anymore, but I wasn't satisfied either. And I wondered how come.

But I was too tired to think about it at that point. So like Scarlet O'Hara I promised myself that tomorrow was another day. I showered quickly, but it only made me sleepier and I hit the sheets, swearing slightly when I rubbed up against the stiff parts that were leftover mementos from my dream of the night before. Vaguely I thought about getting up and changing them, but my eyes closed and the thought died with my first snore.

The next day I woke up grumpy, but more sanguine about the previous nights events. I figured it had just been an anomaly. I'd gone too long without sex and I'd built it up to be something it wasn't except in romance novels and bad soap operas. Okay, so maybe I was moving out of the need for one-night stands, but that was a sign of maturity - or at least so I've always been told.

Except for my obsession with the bitchy Ms Dalrymple and the abortive, and short, romances with the two college lovely's I've mentioned before, I hadn't really attempted anything more with a woman then those encounters where the prime motivating factor was getting my dick wet. Even in the last couple of years when my old friends were jumping into the sea of matrimony like the water was really warm, I'd never even thought about settling down myself.

Not that I was thinking about marriage now. Uh uh, that was the farthest thing from my mind. The single life may not have been the fun it once was, but it was still a lot more appealing than saying something so radical as I do. What I needed, I decided, was a girlfriend. A real one, not like Kendra, who'd been more of a series of one night stands with the same woman, but a - God - could I actually mean a relationship?

Yeah, I decided, I did; someone who'd be there for some of the other times when feminine company was a good thing. Of course, I thought some more, I'd have to figure out when that would be. Oh well, first things first. It was enough right now to just think about the girlfriend part, the rest would come later.

I schlepped around the duplex for the rest of the weekend thinking about this new squiggle in my grand plan. The more I thought about it the less I liked it and so like any red blooded American boy, I concentrated on more important issues like the upcoming bowl games and when the next Bruce Willis movie was going to be available at the tape store.

Work that week, was like work every week. I had to go out of town for two days on Wednesday. Three months on the job and I was getting sick of the traveling. It might have been okay if my time away had been spent in places like Denver and LA instead of Ponca City, OK and Butte, MT.

It was the latter that I got back from late Friday. It was after 10 and the windows in the house were dark. I thought about another trip to John Barleycorn's, but I was too wiped to make the effort and even though I'd scrapped the idea of a relationship, I still wasn't horny enough to be ready for another "Hi, I'm Charlie, let's fuck" episode. I dragged my sorry ass up the stairs and dropped my clothes into a pile on the floor and crawled into my nice rumpled gray-sheeted bed - and yes I'd washed them, I'm not a complete sleaze.

The next morning was gray and rainy. I love Chicago in December. By the time night rolled around, you'd probably need ice skates to get five feet past your door. At least, I consoled myself, I didn't have to go anywhere this weekend unless Liam had drunk all my beer again.

I dressed for the day I was planning on. Sweat pants and my lucky Bulls shirt. My new, lucky Bulls shirt. They were playing the Warriors that afternoon so I was in a pretty good mood. Liam was going somewhere with Blondie, and I had the house to myself. The game was a few hours off, but I thought I'd get a head start with whatever was on ESPN. I was hoping for a really competitive sport like Cheerleading. Yeah, that's a sport, and SI's swimsuit edition is really a sporting goods layout.

I had plopped myself on the couch with a beer (three left, it would have to do) and the remote when Amy came in. I smiled at her. At least this was one woman I didn't have to worry about as date material. Even if I lost my mind and started to think of her in that way, no way would she give up Liam. Amy, if nothing else, was a committed masochist.

"Hey," I said this casually, because I didn't know yet that life on this planet, at least as I knew it, was about to change.

"Hi, Charlie."

I hadn't seen Amy much lately, she'd been off somewhere for most of the beginning of the week and then I'd been gone for the rest. I was surprised to realize I'd kind of missed her. Then I remembered our conversation from the previous Friday. "I thought today was the big day with Miriam?"

"It is. I was just dropping off Liam's dry-cleaning. It's in the hall closet."

"Great, I'll tell him," I was only half listening. What is it they say, give a man a remote and he'll change the channel."

Amy came over and sat down next to me. "What are you watching besides the numbers flash by in the little box?"

I shot her a look of annoyance. If she already knew the answer, why bother asking the question? "Why haven't you left yet?"

"Marian had some errands; she said she'd give me a call here when she got done."

On cue, the phone rang. I picked it up like the innocent I am, and held it to my ear. "Hello?"

There was a sound, no a shriek, that came out of that phone and stabbed through my brain and down my spine until every nerve in my body screamed back for mercy. All the spook stories my Irish granny had ever told me came back into my mind. It had to be a Banshee; no human could make that noise.

"It's for you." I croaked.

"Thanks."

Poor, dear, sweet, soon to be deaf, Amy took the phone into her unsuspecting hand. "Oh hi, Miriam."

That was Miriam?

Amy listened and as I watched, I saw the happiness drain out of her face.

"Oh, I'm really sorry. Of course I understand. Do you need anything? Do you want me to come over?" She listened for a moment and bit her lip. "No I couldn't; not alone."

She listened some more and glanced at me in a startled way as if Miriam had something that might involve...

Oh shit.

Amy turned away from me and whispered something and shook her head. I took the opportunity to stick my finger in my ear and check for Banshee damage. Amy finally hung up and turned back to me.

Here we go.

"That was Miriam."

"Yeah, I figured that out." I was still checking the tip of my finger for blood. "What the Hell is wrong with her voice?"

"She sounds bad doesn't she? She was so hoarse."

"That was hoarse? You mean her voice gets higher?"

Amy nodded. "She's got a really bad cold. She thought she might be getting one yesterday at work. She's going to have to take it easy today."

I waited for the pleading. I waited for the begging. Amy stood and put on her coat.

"Well, I better get going. Tell Liam about the cleaning, okay?"

Yes, I shouted silently, yes. She wasn't going to do it. She wasn't going to ask me to go with her.

"Wait." Oh God; I was possessed again. "Are you going to the mall now?"

"Well, actually I thought that maybe I'd wait." Her voice was matter of fact, but she was avoiding my eyes. "I can do it another time. It's no big deal."

"Amy..."

She smiled at me, but I could see the tears that filled those soft brown eyes. "Really Charlie, it's okay."

Come on man - let it go! My inner voice was yelling at me. She says it's fine. Don't be a pushover.

"Look," I said, "I know I won't be as much good as Miriam, but you've got your list, right? So why don't you let me go with you?"

Just call me Saint Charlie.

"Thanks but..."

"No buts, I insist." I would've said, it'll be fun, but even I had to draw the line somewhere.

"Okay, if you really want to." Amy smiled again, but this time like she meant it. She really did have a cute smile.

I stood up and got my coat and turned to her. She was frowning again.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Of course it's something, spit it out."

"Are you wearing that?"

This, from a girl who was dressed like Francie, the bag lady, who panhandled in front of my office.

I looked down at my lucky Bulls shirt and sweats and the ratty running shoes and socks. "Sure, why not?" I didn't see any problem.

"Nothing."

Back to nothing.

"What would you like me to wear?"

"Whatever you want."

I already was, so that answer was no help. "You have to do better than that, or I'm not changing."

Amy bit her lip and thought for a moment, "Wear your blue sweater, you know, the one with the v-neck."

"Alright, what else."

"That'll be fine."

"No, that'll get me arrested."

She giggled. "Some nice jeans," she finally added, "not those ones with the hole in the knee or your tan chinos might even be better. And your blue, plaid shirt."

"What socks?"

She giggled again. For someone who never paid attention to what they were wearing, Amy certainly seemed to have my wardrobe down pat.

I went and changed and picked out my own damned socks. Nobody was going to boss me around. I also took a minute to shave; I figured I might as well, because I knew that would be next.

Fifteen minutes later, I was ready to go. I almost cried when I passed the remote, lonely and forlorn, sitting all by itself on the coffee table. If I'd know what was going to happen next, I would have.