Diego must have read his conversation with Super_Fox ten times, mulling over every word. There was no way it wasn’t his woman, it was just too bizarre. Too uncanny. Too much like his sassy future wife.
Once the little icon that indicated she was online winked out, he started to write to her in Discord. He decided to tell her everything he’d thought of her, how much he respected her, how hard it was for him to resist the temptation to kiss her and try to lead the both of them to the bedroom over and over again. He typed out how much he wanted to be married and how he thought she was the only woman on Earth he wanted to be close to.
After he’d written a small novel to the woman, he got a response. He hadn’t expected that because her icon hadn’t switched back to an active status. She must have been invisible. How stupid he felt, thinking she’d just pick it up in the morning.
Super_Fox#8259: What part of write a letter and mail it did you misunderstand? Delete this nonsense or I’m blocking you.
Diego: My apologies, ma’am. Aren’t you one and the same as Sansara Solsinger?
Super_Fox#8259: Yes, and you cannot follow directions worth shit, Diego. You are going to learn right now that I shall be the dominant entity in this relationship or there is no relationship.
He scrabbled to copy his portion of instant messages detailing how he felt before deleting them so he could save it for later. He wasn’t fast enough and she blocked him after sixty seconds passed. He sighed and did as he was instructed anyway, deleting the raw feelings he’d put into words for his woman. He didn’t really understand why she was making him follow some arbitrary rules, but he felt like the rules were certainly arbitrary. Once he’d followed her directive, he found himself unblocked.
Diego: Sansara?
Super_Fox#8259: Yes, Diego?
Diego: Can I come home?
Super_Fox#8259: Yes, Diego. You may come home.
Diego: Is right now a good time?
Super_Fox#8259: Yesterday would have been better, or the day before that, or the day before that…
Diego: Yes, ma’am. I’m on my way as soon as I’m sober.
He felt fortunate, deciding only to have one glass of wine and one beer that evening. The marijuana had worn off about half an hour prior and he was glued to that keyboard, typing his heart out. He stood up and checked the time. It was 9:00 p.m. Danny and Cassie could still be up, he thought, so he got up to look for them.
He didn’t have to look very far. He found them on the couch he slept on regularly, having sex. He decided it was best to just text his buddy after he left. He had the following day off from Schnucks, thankfully, so he could just come back for his things. It sparked his imagination, though, thinking about how he might get laid that evening himself. It’d been at least a year since he was with a woman. He was starting to believe he forgot how it all worked. He wondered if he had any game left.
He took the weed Danny gave him and threw it in the trunk of the SUV, which was the legal way to transport it. He decided to visit his storage unit to pick up suitable pajamas. He’d been in sleep shorts and tanks at Danny’s since his friend didn’t believe in air conditioning until it was over 90 degrees Fahrenheit in the house. He said it made him too soft. He wanted to be as covered as possible, especially since he considered the possibility of sleeping next to Crystal, celibate. Anything was possible with his wily wench.
He also decided to pick up some flowers last minute. She’d told him that stargazer lilies were her absolute favorite when she told him all of the names of the flowers in her garden. He acquired a bouquet that had a few stargazers in it. He’d saw it that day at work and it reminded him of her so much. It also had a sunflower, a magenta rose, and some white flowers he didn’t know the name of.
He looked at the treats-to-go section, then thought about her dietary restrictions. He’d never once seen her consume chocolate the whole time he lived with her. She never mentioned it and she never made anything for him with chocolate in it, either. She’d only ever given him the medicinal brownies she had, never partaking in front of her. He decided popcorn was his best bet despite its aromantic status. He loved watching her eat popcorn and he himself was a fan, so he picked up their favorite brand. It had three ingredients: white corn kernels, sunflower seed oil, salt.
Food for the foodie, check. Flowers for the romantic, check. No suit and tie, but he didn’t want to be Ben anyway. He was wearing pastel blue shorts and a pastel yellow t-shirt that day and decided it would have to do. He thought about changing into his sleep clothes in the garage. He’d realized after he left her house three months prior that he still had the garage door opener, but he never went back. He didn’t want to be chased off by a katana-wielding babe again. He couldn’t run very fast in flip flops, anyway.
It was 10:00 p.m. by the time he knocked on her front door. She opened it, grabbed him by the shirt, and pulled him inside. He heard the door click shut behind him and he found himself toe to toe with her in the living room, which looked as barren as the day he removed his couch. He was surprised at her strength yet again. He idly wondered how much she could lift as his eyes connected with hers.
She lifted herself onto her toes and, next thing he knew, her lips were on his. This was a first! She’d only ever kissed him on the cheek before, never taking liberties. He tried not to crush the bouquet or the popcorn as he put his arms around her, happily returning the kiss. He realized an old time romantic song was playing over her awesome audiophile sound system: Build Me Up Buttercup by The Foundations.
Diego was minorly dazed as Crystal ended their kiss, gently withdrawing. She pulled back to look at him, returning to a more sustainable position by dropping to her heels again. Her arms were around his neck and all he could smell was her. She smelled better than the bouquet he’d brought. He bit his lip as he looked at her, his pupils dilating. So did hers, actually.
“Hey, baby, I brought you a little gift,” he said, lifting his hands to put the popcorn and bouquet in her peripheral vision.
“So you did. Thank you, Diego, that’s very thoughtful of you,” she said, taking the bouquet from him and walking toward the kitchen. She pulled out a vase and arranged the still-living blooms in some water. He watched her take care of the flowers, thinking that it should have been his job. He couldn’t complain, but he wondered why she did it without hesitation. “I understand this is a special occasion and I love flowers, but can we keep them on the plants?” she asked him softly. “I mean, I really do love them. You remembered my favorite, even. I just hate to see plants and animals suffer to make our lives prettier, you know?”
He nodded, agreeing with her. “Yes, my love. I’ll just bring you a whole plant next time.” She beamed at him over that. He held up the popcorn, trying to entice her to eat what he’d brought.
“That looks great, too. One thing, before I forget,” she said. He tensed, expecting something terrible to follow that. It had happened sometimes in the past in casual conversation, so he braced for the worst. “Babies are critters about this long, they sometimes crawl around on the floor, they puke and they shit and they scream. I don’t think I’m a baby.” She was holding her hands about a foot apart, looking at the space between them as if she was picturing a literal baby, as she said this. That was his autistic woman for him, that was for sure.
That was not what he was expecting at all. He laughed suddenly and then nodded at her. “Yes, my love.” She smiled easily at him. He thought she looked happy to see him. He was certainly happy to see her. “I… er… Would you like another kiss?” he asked her.
“Oooh, another one? What kind of lucky girl am I tonight?” she said as she returned to where he was standing, leaving the vase in the middle of the table. “I think that I’m going to fuck you this evening. Unless you fall asleep on me.” She said it so casually it caught him completely off guard.
He gulped as her words registered, his eyes going wide. Now that was forward. There was no mistaking what she meant, not by any means. He looked askance of her as he moved his arms around her, making sure he wasn’t taking liberties seeking to embrace her. This was too much like a fairy tale, he thought. He wondered if he was dreaming again. Whenever he had her on his mind like this and they got along so effortlessly, he thought he was dreaming. She’d never said something like that to him ever before. Not even close. This woman never mentioned sex to him.
His first instinct was to kiss her as passionately as he could. He decided to start gentle and ramp it up slowly. His lips found hers, parting almost immediately to invite her tongue into play. He slowly leaned her backward as they kissed each other, holding her so she wouldn’t feel like she was falling. They stayed like that for a long moment as their tongues danced together. She moaned softly, her fingertips rubbing over the nape of his neck delicately. He loved how she always touched him as if he was breakable, as if he was delicate. He realized a while ago that’s how she wanted to be touched, so he’d been doing his best.
As they came up for air, he decided to tell her that she didn’t have to treat him as if he was fragile. He rubbed the tip of his nose against hers as he mentioned it to her. She smiled at him and asked not-so-innocently, “What, do you like to be abused, Diego?” He shook his head at her. “Good,” she said. “Now what exactly do you have in mind, darling?” she drawled.
“I have a million things in mind, such as putting you on that counter and taking you right here and now. You said you were calling the shots, though, so I won’t be doing that… Oh! You meant how I’d like to be touched!” He looked sheepish just then. “I meant, you don’t have to be so gentle.”
“I fail to see how that isn’t abuse,” she replied, looking him in the eyes. “But, while we’re on the subject… Why don’t we have the snack you brought in the den and talk about our sexual preferences?” Oh, boy. If he could be more in love with her, it would be because of her direct nature. He had no idea this was lurking inside of her all along, just waiting for him to commit. She’d been akin to a G-rated film up until tonight, he thought.
He nodded emphatically. “Should we bring any beer or wine?” she asked him. She had tasted of neither, so he shook his head and pulled the baggie out of his pocket. He showed her the fat kush buds he’d brought to share. Danny had discovered that giving Daniel a certain amount of bud per month was easier than trying to budget his entire supply with his friend going overboard with heartbreak. “Oh, my,” she said. “Do you have any joint papers?” she asked him.
He shook his head, his face falling. He’d forgotten that minor detail. “Oh! Don’t you dare go sulky on me now, I have something we can use,” she told him. It occurred to him that he’d never seen her stoned that he knew of. He knew she had cannabis-infused brownies, which she herself had never eaten in front of him. She’d told him they were medicinal and she sold them as part of her practice.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his eyes sweeping over her appreciatively. She was clothed in the getup from the dream that prompted him to leave the house: a pink gauzy robe that was partially see-through and spiked adornments in the form of a black leather choker and black leather wrist cuffs. Each one had at least five silver tone spikes protruding from it. He wondered about that out loud in a wistful kind of tone.
“Well, Diego… I have bad news,” she said. He expected the next step was a visit to the restroom, but to his surprise, she continued on. “It’s just fashion jewelry to me.”
He shook his head at her, responding immediately, “That’s not bad news at all. I was afraid you’d want to tie me up and whip me until I bleed.”
She stared at him over a mug she picked up. She was drinking hot tea when he arrived, apparently. “I could do that, but it doesn’t sound like fun to me. A light flogging is much more my style.” He nodded slowly. He’s become a gazelle on the Serengeti and she was a lioness, hunting him down. “I don’t like tying boys up all that much,” she said to him, drawing closer. “I’d much rather be the one tied up.”
He cleared his throat. The urge to tackle her, kiss her, and make love to her all at once drove him to move before he really knew what he was doing. His arms were around her in the blink of an eye. He forced himself to stop there, though, because she was sipping from her mug again. “My lady, do tell me that you’ll marry me,” he murmured to her, looking into her eyes.
“Aye, I will,” she replied. She tapped her cheek meaningfully and he planted a kiss on her velvety soft skin. “But I want to point out that you still haven’t gotten me any onion rings.” She looked completely mischievous, her eyes dancing as she smiled at him.
He chuckled and nuzzled her neck, trying not to disturb her cuppa. “I think I’m the happiest man ever to exist,” he declared breathlessly into her ear.
“I hope nobody challenges you for that title, you just might lose,” she teased him, turning her head to kiss his cheek. She drained her tea and set her mug down. “So, how about going to the den, baby?” she drawled in the southern accent she sometimes adopted. “I should probably stop using that word myself, come to think of it,” she added in her normal tone of voice.
He nodded in agreement. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, but he did force his arms to let go so they could make the trek to her den. It was something of a cross between a man cave and an office. The only thing it needed was a few taxidermied heads and it’d look like paradise to a hunter like him. She took a large jug of water with her, stepping up the stairs carefully so she wouldn’t trip over the hem of her garment.
He tried to remember if he’d ever seen the sexy number she was wearing down in the laundry area, where most of her clothes lived. He couldn’t remember it specifically, so he had his doubts. He wondered how it was he could dream reality like this as he followed her up the stairs, admiring her sashaying rear end. It was right in front of his face and he finally had permission to look.
“Diego, darling, I meant it when I told you I love you,” she said casually as they ascended, a few steps away from reaching their destination. “I think you’re the kindest man I’ve ever known.” She smiled at him over her shoulder as she opened the den’s door, admitting them both. He remembered hearing that in his dreams, he thought. He was suddenly able to tell reality from the land of nod as she said the same things from the dreams out loud that evening.
“Those dreams aren’t just dreams,” she said as she closed the door behind him. She pulled two paper cups from a stack and poured them each some water. She waved for him to sit down on the couch, but he gawked at her instead. He wasn’t sure what she meant just yet and he was waiting for more to come. “Sit down, you ass, I’ll tell you more when we’re set.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, sitting down on the edge of the couch, intrigued and eager to learn about whatever she was going to tell him. He wondered if it was reiki-related as he sipped his water. He watched her pull a hookah out of a cupboard, which made him nod appreciatively even as his eyebrows rose. He had no idea she had a hookah until just then as he’d never seen it before. It was emerald green and very small.
“This is a personal pumpkin hookah,” she told him as she pulled a few ice cubes out of her mini-fridge. “We can turn your bud into shisha and then it’ll last us a good sixty minutes. I would mix it with some of my herbal shisha. I might put off sleeping with you until morning if it’s exceptionally strong.”
“Crystal, I have so many questions…” he began, pausing to give her space to acknowledge what he’d said.
“Let’s talk before we think about sex, then. It’ll be better that way, anyway. Would you rather be sober for our chat?” she asked him. He nodded and he watched her put herbal shisha in the hookah without any weed mixed in. He smiled. Apparently, his woman was not about to waste the hookah she’d prepared.
She had put ice cubes and water into the basin already and if you knew Crystal, that was the point of no return on a hookah session. She lined the vortex bowl with the shisha. He noted she barely put any in, leaving it fluffy and loose rather than densely packed. Next, she wrapped a pre-cut piece of foil around the top of the vortex bowl. She noticed he was watching her, so she started telling him the reason she did everything.
“So, I’ve discovered that leaving the shisha loose and fluffy makes for the best smoking experience. I get the pre-cut foil squares because I always use too much foil when I cut them myself and I hate being wasteful.”
She grabbed a push pin and poked a mandala pattern into the foil, which was shiny side up. “The foil should be shiny side up because the goal is to sweat the shisha rather than burn it. If you burn the tobacco or tobacco alternative, the whole experience is ruined,” she declared.
She lit one piece of quick start charcoal with a small butane torch, which impressed him. I mean, fire, come on… impressive. She blew on the coal until it glowed orange through and through and the little sparkle magic of the sulfur was gone. She was careful to hold it with a pair of metal tongs the whole time. He was glad that she didn’t have carpets because this activity was nothing short of a fire hazard with carpeting.
She set the charcoal onto the foil covering the vortex bowl, putting it in the middle first. “So because the vortex bowl is ceramic and the point is to sweat out the smoke, putting the coal in the middle first will heat through the center after about five minutes, then I have to scoot the charcoal around in circles along the outer edge for a while to try to distribute the heat evenly. We will probably need a second charcoal before the bowl is done, but that’s simple enough.”
She fell silent and looked at him, perched on the couch like he was going to jump off it any moment. “Permission to board?” she asked, blinking at him a few times. He gaped at her, failing to connect the dots right away. He shook his head at his own density, realizing belatedly she wanted on his lap. Talk about firsts… He hoped this evening would hold many more, actually. He sat back on the couch and patted his knee, trying to look inviting. This was going to be the best evening of his life, even if they didn’t make love, he thought.
She perched on his lap, looking like she’d get up if he so much as sneezed on her. He moved his hand to take hold of hers. “What is going on?” he asked, his amazement plain to see on his face. “You’re… so different. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, I just didn’t expect this at all.”
“You decided to commit, did you not?” she asked him, blinking innocently. “At least, that’s what I extrapolated from what you wrote me after I clearly told you I wanted an actual letter.” Her chiding lost its edge due to her smile, thankfully.
He nodded to her. “Yes, but I decided that before you threatened me with a katana,” he declared.
“Oh, did you now?” she asked him. “How was I supposed to know that? I don’t recall a Diego telling me he couldn’t live without me until about two hours ago.” Her eyelashes imitated a butterfly suddenly, fluttering seductively in his direction. She definitely had feminine wiles, he noted. She’d just never used them on him before now.
She was right and he knew it. He’d never told her exactly how he felt. He should have, that’s for damn certain. He’d been miserable for the past three months, and not just because he was sleeping on a lumpy couch. He thought about how he left his current host and hostess having sex in the very place he slept daily. It was kind of rude, but on the other hand, he should have found a place already and he knew it. He’d been dragging his heels a bit too much. He realized he forgot to text Danny, but he decided now was not the right time.
He kissed her on the cheek just then. “You’re right, my lady,” he conceded. “I should have told you much, much sooner. Like maybe the day after I moved in,” he admitted. He looked regretful, she noted as she looked at him.
“I wish I’d known,” she told him flatly. “I could have cried a lot fewer tears, I imagine.” He gulped as she spoke, realizing she was definitely not a mind reader. There was no such thing after all, was there? Still… the way she spoke and acted made him believe it could be true.
“Baby–” he shook his head, realizing he’d used the word she asked him not to. “I mean, my love,” he corrected himself immediately, “I’ve been wrestling over the idea that you’re capable of reading minds since the moment I met you.”
Those eyelashes fluttered at him again as she picked up the hookah hose. Dangerous. Weapons. She didn’t need a katana to cut him down to size, just her wide eyed gaze and some fluttering lashes. To his surprise, she let out the biggest cloud of smoke he’d ever seen from a hookah. She offered him the hose so he could partake. He tried to duplicate her ginormous cloud of smoke, inhaling deeply. He fell short, but not by far. She smiled at him broadly, beaming in appreciation of his clouds of smoke.
“You think I’m a telepath?” she asked, her expression one of keen interest. He could tell this idea was news to her, because her face was serious instead of mischievous in nature. She was also blinking about twice as much as normal, processing the information.
“Hasn’t anyone ever told you that before?” he asked her. It was her turn to shake her head, looking bewildered.
“Is that why people don’t talk to me? I’ve been walking around all my life wondering what the fuck is wrong with everyone else,” she declared.
“It must be. So… you don’t read minds? We can put this one to rest?” he asked her, looking hopeful.
“You know, even if I could, those are supposed to be private thoughts. Until you speak them out loud, I shouldn’t know what is on your mind at all, so even if I could, I’d probably pretend that I can’t. Which doesn’t answer your question. I hate to admit it, but I’m just as mundane as you are, boy,” she told him, opening her hand and holding it out to him in order to retrieve the hookah hose from him.
She turned and scooted the coal around a bit, setting it on the edge of the vortex bowl, essentially. In a minute or two, she would scoot it to the opposite side, playing some weird game of hopscotch on the mandala pattern she’d poked into the foil.
“Okay, Wendy,” he replied. He earned a wink, it would seem, for playing along with her. Every time she called him boy, she was likening him to Peter Pan. He sometimes wondered if that was an insult, but if it was, it was lost on her. He decided to try smoke rings once the hose returned to him.
“The dreams… you see, I think we might be linked somehow. I’m not even sure how it happened, honestly… but I wrote them all down because I suspected you and I were dreaming the same thing at the same time,” Crystal murmured. “And I should admit that I think some of my daydreams because your dreams, but I’m not absolutely certain of that…”
He was surprised to hear she’d written them down. They were all… well, hot and steamy. And she was all… well, stand-offish and sometimes bitchy, he had to admit. Maybe that was why she kept him at arm’s length, really. Something she’d said the night she threatened him with her katana came back to him. Something about learning her lesson about sleeping with men too quickly, about them abusing her to get their dick wet.
A tear slid down his cheek as he remembered that tense encounter. Had he inadvertently raped her because they were sharing consciousness in a dream somehow? He took another pull on the hookah and passed it back to her, wishing he hadn’t decided to stay sober. Reality was making less and less sense.
“Say… is there any way we can add some weed to this, even though it’s already in progress?” he asked her. In response, she took the coal off the bowl and set it in an ash tray on her coffee table. She used tongs to pry off the foil and then looked at him. He’d often wondered why she had an ash tray when she wasn’t a smoker, but now that mystery was solved.
“How much do you wanna add?” she asked him, sliding off his lap so he could get into his pockets, and, incidentally, so she could fuss with the hookah and add the herb. He handed her a rather small piece, which she took and put on top of a piece of printer paper. She used her Buddha incense burner to smash it, grinding it effectively and very quickly. She brushed some clinging debris from the bottom of the statue onto the paper, then returned it to its place on the coffee table. Just then, her largest cat ambled by, disturbed by the smoke in the room.
“Hi, Bill baby,” she said, greeting the enormous grey and white tabby. He sniffed at her fingertips for a moment, rubbed his cheeks against them, then stalked off. He was a proper cat, alright. His favorite changed based on the hour and what they were doing. They were all sweethearts, honestly.
She picked up the piece of paper and then guided the little bits of herb into the vortex bowl, using an oyster fork to mix it into the shisha in the bowl as evenly as she could manage. “It would be better to add a little molasses to the cannabis next time and let it soak up the liquid but this will do the trick. The molasses makes it wetter so it doesn’t burn before it sweats,” she told him. Fortunately for them, there was plenty of molasses already in the bowl and she was able to mix it together. Still, soaking it was probably for the best.
She used a pot holder to put the foil back in place, though it wasn’t as snug as her first go at it. It would do, she knew, but she turned to Diego, “Think you can get that to fit more tightly without burning yourself?” She handed him an oven mitt and a pot holder, giving up on getting a better seal on her own. Her patience wasn’t cooperating with this update.
The seal on the hookah has to be air tight in order to pull the air in through the vortex bowl, into the water the stem was in, then through the air in the basin’s chamber, up through the stem again, and out through the hose into your lungs. Diego fussed with it for almost a full minute, getting it almost as tight as her original bowl preparation appeared to him.
She was staring at him with adoration in her eyes, leaning in his direction little by little. He took the hint and kissed her, hoping to see that adoration afterward, too. He was not disappointed at all. She wasn’t guarding her expressions tonight, it would seem. He wondered how she’d kept this under wraps the whole time, honestly.
“You’re driving me crazy looking at me like that, my lady,” he told her softly, beaming at her. He wasn’t used to seeing that expression on her, but it wasn’t foreign to him entirely. It triggered him to think about how Cheryl used to look at him that way. She did for about two months, then eventually she became snide and angry all the time. He hoped that wouldn’t happen with Crystal. Crystal was a complete babe in all the ways he could imagine. She was smart, sexy, sassy, funny… all the things(TM). He had no idea what a guy like him could provide for a gal like her.
She blinked a few times, then busied herself with the hookah again. “I’m sorry, Diego, I don’t mean to drive you crazy. I’ll try to stop, it doesn’t sound pleasant.”
“I meant that in the best way possible,” he explained, remembering she was diagnosed with autism and needed things to be spelled out. That must be how people keep mistaking her for an empath and telepath, really. Her autism. If she hadn’t told him she’s autistic, he would have figured it out… but he didn’t think he’d understand it nearly as well since he’d gone out of his way to do research on the topic.
She took a pull from the hookah, keeping the smoke in her lungs for a time instead of exhaling immediately now that the weed was in the bowl. She passed him the hose as she did this. When she breathed out, it was much less cloudy than it had been before, he noted. He tried to do the same, handing the hose back. They went back and forth for about twenty minutes in silence until the weed started to kick in, making their brains buzz as their bodies relaxed.
“You have more questions?” she asked. She did that a lot, leaving out a bunch of words that might make her make more sense to everyone else. She relied on her inflection to tell you that she was asking a question instead of making a statement.
“How do you feel about premarital sex?” he gazed at her curiously. He’d been dying to ask this question all year. He’d been dying to take her to bed just as long.
“I used to engage in it, thinking my partner might eventually decide to commit or perhaps believing that because they were giving me their body, they were already committed. I commit before I sleep with a person. They might have flaws that annoy me or inconvenience me, but it’s my job to grow around those and to try to help them grow through them. Unfortunately, I got the memo that the rest of the human race does not commit and when faced with the option to commit or run, they run,” she was frowning by the time she finished speaking, though it disappeared as she took the next pull on the spiked shisha.
His hand found its way to her breast in response to her comment, which was simple enough because she was back in his lap and half-facing him. The hose was just barely long enough to accommodate this from the coffee table, too. He didn’t squeeze or massage her mammary like he wished to, instead caressing her and slowly moving his hand back and forth.
“Is this the same Diego that told me drunk sex is rape?” she asked him, gently admonishing him for breaking his own rule. He nodded at her, but he didn’t stop.
“It is, and I’ve come to the conclusion that we were both willing long before we got snookered, so I think we’re going to be okay. Unless, of course, you’d prefer I stop?” His hand went still, cupping her breast as he waited for the answer. He was enjoying the warmth of the swell under his hand.
“I think I should answer all your questions before you continue turning me into a raging horn ball,” she told him, which he chuckled at. He put his hand on her knee instead. “Besides, I might have some of my own to ask,” she added.
“Do you, super babe?” he asked her, handing the hose back to her. If she did, he’d have to wait. She was quite serious about her hookah experience, it seemed. He gulped as she lifted his hand a moment and pushed the robe to the side, placing his hand on her naked thigh instead.
“Yes. What is the square root of ketchup?” she asked him, shooting his own nonsense question back to him.
“I do believe that would be, uh, tomato,” he replied nonchalantly, smiling the whole while. They both made their usual sounds of amusement as they revisited his joke question that he’d been asking for over twenty years. She was the only person to ever come up with a reply.
“Splendid! How big is your cock?” she asked next and he choked as he was interrupted mid-inhale. He covered his eyes with one hand, laughing and snorting out the smoke he’d managed to inhale. He saw she was quite amused once he’d recuperated from the surprise question.
“Uhm… basically average,” he said, watching her expression carefully. She looked excited suddenly, biting her lower lip in anticipation. This surprised him, that was for sure. The last time he was asked that question and answered it the same way, he found himself alone for the rest of the evening.
He watched her for any sign that she was faking her response, but none came. He gulped, realizing she was genuinely happy to hear he was basically average in that department. “Why do you ask?” he uttered slowly, watching her take another draw from the hookah. At this point, they were stoned out of their gourds, but there was no way to put out a hookah and lighting it again later. It almost always burned the shisha if you tried, so one had to start out fresh. They kept passing the hose back and forth, sharing effortlessly.
“Uh… I’m like… tiny… and stuff…” she told him, her gaze sliding off to the left. Her lack of eye contact told him she was feeling self-conscious about answering his question. Her body language told him she was threatening to shut down on him, too, if he didn’t do or say the right thing next. This dance he was already familiar with.
He gulped again, nodding before he said, “Okay.” He thought another moment and then asked, “Does that mean it’s painful for you?”
“It can be, yeah,” she replied, still not looking at him. “You’re not lying to me, are you?” A tear rolled down her cheek at the thought of him telling her a falsehood.
“No, honey, I’m not lying about it… even if I was, you’d know very quickly, wouldn’t you? You’d be stabbing me with a katana, I’d reckon.” He gave her the hookah’s hose and put his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. He kissed her temple and just waited.
“I don’t want to hurt you or anyone, really,” she replied, still looking away for a few more moments. Then her eyes came back to him. “I must have really scared you… that’s what my goal was, Diego. I wanted you to go somewhere and think about your life while I did the same, except staying here with my cats. And I wanted to be extreme because people don’t listen until I go to an extreme, for whatever fucking reason, so I just jump to the end now, skipping all the ineffectual pleas for cooperation.”
He nodded at her, gulping again. She was terrifying, in a word. He noticed when they passed her bedroom that the door was still scarred from the katana stab. “I would be quite pleased to never see that thing again,” he told her. “But on the other hand, I don’t want you to be defenseless when I’m not here, either.” He thought about Michonne from The Walking Dead about eight million times in the three months he was in exile because of the way they parted. Both of them were horrifying when considering what they could do in the real.
She moved to press her lips against his cheek, or tried to. He turned his head to meet her halfway, rubbing his lips against hers instead. He tried to convey every ounce of his love and adoration in that one gesture. As he did so, she relaxed completely in his arms and her body contoured to his instead of staying stiff. He realized in that moment that she must have been raped. Probably not once, not twice, or even three times… but systematically raped without remorse.
He rubbed her back, crying silently over that idea as he held her. He could only imagine the worst, really, which was that every time she’d ever had sex, it was actually rape. That made it so much easier to find his self-control. She pulled back from him enough to look at him. She must have felt a tear fall on her, he thought, as she was brushed his tears away gently.
“I don’t know what I can say or do to help you with whatever has happened in your past, Sansara, but if you can think of anything, please tell me. I’ll do whatever is in my power to make it right, baby.” He shook his head suddenly and then said, “Darling.”
She smiled at him wanly, an expression that might flee with any wrong move or word. “I think I need to update my brain to accept that baby means more than one thing,” she said humbly. He smiled back at her, openly showing how charmed he felt by her in general. She kissed all over his face slowly, beating him to it and making him realize it was something he’d really wanted to do for her instead. He closed his eyes, smiling, and found her lips on his. This time, she was the one trying to convey all the emotion in the world, he thought. And what tender emotion it was, too. To think he’d wasted all this time just because he’d never told her how he felt implicitly. He was a fool, if you asked him.
Once they parted again, she took a pull from the hookah and pronounced that it needed more charcoal. She slid off his lap gingerly, which caught the hem of her robe in the process, hiking it up and exposing the majority of her legs to him. She didn’t bother to fix this as she busies herself with her task.
He thought about how he’d only ever seen her legs twice before as he watched her. His hands made way to her buttocks, gently massaging both cheeks as he fondled them. He was more than distracted by her half-dressed state, he realized as he did this. He hadn’t consciously decided to touch her and he was counting his lucky stars that they’d gotten past asking permission for everything. Or, at least, he hoped so. He wondered if she was wearing anything under the dress… anything at all. He couldn’t feel anything but the organza fabric.
“Diego,” she half-moaned. “I don’t want to waste your weed, baby.” He grinned at her backside since she was still lighting the second charcoal. He realized how dangerous it was for him to entice her while she was stoking an actual fire, even if it was tiny. He chose to rest his hands on her hips instead.
“Hey hon, how many partners have you had? I mean, how many people have you had sex with?” he asked her out of the blue. She stiffened a little at his first question, but relaxed after he rephrased it with his second question.
“Should I include my dream lovers?” she asked mischievously.
“Yeah, anyone who has ever had permission to have sex with you, even if they didn’t,” he said.
“Well, that’s tricky. I have to remember all my celibate relationships and I just plain don’t,” she began. His eyebrows were up at that remark. She’d had more celibate relationships than consummated ones, he quickly learned as he found himself with the hookah hose again. “I’ve had eight physical relationships in total before I met you, Daniel,” she concluded.
He gulped. He’d had more girlfriends than that in high school. She stared at him, saying nothing. She almost looked like she was staring through him, really. He admitted to her what he just thought, wondering what her judgment would be over the comment.
“I hope to never meet a single one of them in my life, ever.” That is all she said.
“Would you like to move away to make sure we don’t run into any of them?” he asked her as he gave her the hose again. She shook her head at his question, taking her time.
“No, I want you to make sure you avoid them like the fucking plague, no matter what. They don’t know you anymore and they will never get to.” He found himself nodding again. She made a lot of sense and was incredibly practical, two features he enjoyed from the get-go. Still, he thought about moving as a simple solution to dodging clingy ex-lovers. She might even enjoy a change of scenery.
“As far as I am aware, every single person I’ve ever dated knows without a doubt that our relationship of the past is over. I don’t give second chances once I burn the bridge. If you weren’t going to commit and be a big boy, I’d have to cut you out of my life forever. In my experience, no one actually grows up and moves past the try-it-before-you-buy-it stage. I was looking for a man who does grow up and I think you’re the one for me. I don’t want to hear about how you talked to Sassy Bitch “A” in the grocery store because she recognized you from high school. I’ll ice you out for a whole month, or maybe the rest of your life,” she told him, not bothering to veil the incredible disdain she held over the whole idea. He had to respect her wishes, he knew, or he wouldn’t be showing her what his love was about. He kept nodding, completely on board as he took another turn with the peace pipe.
“I’m not going to compete with your past. I am supposed to be your present and your future. You are my present and my future. Let’s keep it that way without fluttering distractions that look good on paper but always turn out to be evil bitches vying for your cock,” she said. He’d never heard her use the word cock before this evening and now she used it a second time, completely casually. He was beyond amazed. And stoned.
“I guess it’s highly unlikely you’d even speak to an ex of yours, then?” he asked her. He wanted to be completely sure it was the same for both of them. He wouldn’t tolerate double standards for those were cheater rules. He didn’t expect there to be a double standard, though. The whole time he’d known him, she held everyone up to the same standard.
“I used to talk to one of them… this guy who ghosted me some years ago. He didn’t burn the bridge, he just disappeared. I realized later that he raped me because I never would have slept with him if I knew he was in a committed open relationship before he came onto me. I decided that I would never make my man compete for my attention, however, so I’ve ghosted him in return,” she told him amicably. “My first fiance died years ago now and my ex-husband can go to hell for forcing me to do all the growing so he could stagnate and die. To live is to grow. He wanted to be forever fifteen and force me to be momma to all his gamer friends. And all the rest? Meh. The only one who lives around here is behind bars presently. And if he shows his face on my property again, I’m taking him to court for raping me over five hundred times,” she declared fiercely.
Diego shed a tear at her indignant remark regarding Ben, sympathizing with her completely. He couldn’t fathom how that imbecile showed up on her doorstep with a dozen red roses if he’d raped her so many times. He must have gotten off on rape in general. How vile! He wanted to murder the man. He hoped he’d get another chance to defend his wife from that cretin. He watched her continue to toke up with the hookah, rubbing his hands over her shoulders reassuringly as he did so. She was incredibly resilient and strong in character, he thought.
He decided just then that he’d never seen Crystal wasted before that night. She was even more vibrant than her usual self… She was in an upbeat mood, despite what she just conveyed to him. She looked lively, in a word. And she was looking for the popcorn he brought, suddenly feeling the munchies creeping up on her. He handed her the bag once he determined that was where her attention had gone. It was on the other side of her on the couch, out of her sight.
“Gracias,” she said as she pulled the top open to expose the white gold inside. He replied automatically in his second tongue. “De nada.” She grinned at him like the Cheshire cat before stuffing her face full of popcorn. She’d taken a comically large portion of it and was shoving it into her mouth like a chipmunk. He wouldn’t be able to explain to anyone why he found it endearing, but he did. That was fortunate for Crystal, because this is the way she always ate popcorn.
If she knew Diego was coming over that evening, she would have made doughnut waffles to share with him, she thought. She held the bag out to him, offering to share the treat he’d brought her. He gratefully accepted, starting to feel the munchies himself. They sat in silence, smoking and eating popcorn together. For as slovenly as she could be, she only lost two pieces of popcorn.
He wanted to fuck her. The impulses and urges were amping up as the two of them continued to converse. He wanted everything they’d dreamed of and more. He wanted a happy and smiling woman in his arms. He wanted to share a look of adoration in the afterglow. He rearranged himself subtly, trying not to draw attention to his arousal as she ate more popcorn. The hookah was next to forgotten for the moment, although she did scoot the coal around every few minutes anyway.
He wondered how she would like their first union to proceed. The words she’d opened with that evening echoed in his head. “I think that I’m going to fuck you this evening. Unless you fall asleep on me.“ He desperately hoped so. He’d wanted to for more than nine months.
He’d like just about anything right now, though he detested anal. That particular act was beyond disgusting in his eyes. However, he wouldn’t mind her straddling his lap and pulling each nipple into his mouth in turn to titillate her and arouse her further. She deposited the popcorn bag on his lap, seemingly oblivious to his state of mind, and returned to the hookah. She poured both of them some more water, too, which he was grateful for after the salty popcorn. She picked up the two kernels she’d lost and deposited them in her tiny garbage receptacle. She also produced napkins for the both of them so they could wipe their hands. And, in her case, her mouth.
“What have you been eating for the past, I dunno, week?” she asked him. Another curve ball as he stood out in left field, it seemed.
“Not enough vegetables,” he replied, thinking it was a reiki-related question. She pouted at him a little, a look he’d never seen on her before. It certainly made his erection throb.
“Your body needs veggies, son,” she said in her Bogart imitation. It always put a smile on his face when she used various tones, voices, and imitations. This time was no different.
“I know, sweetie… I’ve just been in a funk lately,” he replied, deciding to be as straightforward as she demonstrated so far this evening. He was absentmindedly rubbing her back at this point, keeping the pressure even and delicate to the best of his ability.
“You poor lad,” she said, handing him the hookah hose. He set the popcorn aside on the coffee table and as soon as he straightened up again, her fingers were on his belt buckle. “I guess you’ll just have to settle for spit if it comes to that,” she told him as she worked to undress him. He would have choked again if he’d been mid-inhale. He felt fortunate he hadn’t pulled from the water pipe just yet.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said suddenly. She stopped, looking at him like a deer in headlights. She slowly pulled her hands away from him and sat up straight, waiting.
“As much as I want that, and I assure you that I do…. more than you can imagine… I was thinking that I need to show the little lady some of my own moves, first,” he said with his own southern drawl peeking through. She laughed hard, slapping her knee once while she did so. It wasn’t a malicious laugh, but he wondered why she found that so funny. He was all smiles just the same, enjoying her infectious good mood.
“Say–say it again, please?!” she asked, wiping a tear from her eye. “The last part, I mean.”
“I was thinking that I need to show the little lady some of my own moves first,” he drawled again. He bit his lower lip as he watched her giggle. He hadn’t heard her laugh very many times. She was usually so serious. He noted her laughter had a musical quality that uplifted his soul more and more the longer he heard it.
“You are so funny, Diego,” she declared. “I was just going to get us started while you finished off the hookah, since you brought the goods tonight. We can wait until it’s dead, though. I’m not about to waste some quality bud.”
He pursed his lips, nodding at her. He was astonished, really, and quite excited about the idea of where she was going with her wandering hands. Where was the woman he normally spoke to? The one he’d fallen in love with the first time around? That wasn’t to say this version was inferior to that one, it was just completely unexpected. She had him out in left field, staring in the sun.
“Well, how about you show me what’s underneath that thing?” he asked her, motioning to her robe as he continued to pull smoke through the miniature water pipe. His tolerance was very high these days since he spent most of his time high as a kite and daydreaming about making up with her for the past three months.
She stood up just then, moving well away from the hot coal on the hookah. She spun around in a circle first with a bit of oomph, sending the hem of the robe flying upward to her mid-calf. “This thing? You want to know what’s under it?” she asked him coquettishly. He nodded emphatically, still puffing away on the hookah. His eyes were glued on her.
She took the skirt of her gown into her hands, hiking it up enticingly. Slowly. He sighed dreamily as he watched her, leaning back on the couch. He asked her, “Do you mind if I…?” He trailed off pointing to his unbuckled belt.
“Go ahead, sweetheart,” she drawled at him. He didn’t take his eyes off her for a single second as he freed himself from his jean shorts. He was relieved, really, because the pressure was intense. His shorts were a tighter fit than usual thanks to his recent munchie habits.
She took a good look at him, bending over to put her face dangerously close to his crotch. She had unbuttoned the top two buttons of her dress, so the movement flashed cleavage as she inspected him closely. He was using his fingertips to stroke himself, shivering slightly from the feel of her breath on his skin. Damn, this was getting good, he thought.
“So, this is average, is it?” she asked as she straightened up, turning to show him her backside. She gathered more of her flouncy skirt up and exposed her skin up to her derriere, hiking it up an inch at a time. She stopped just before he could make out whether or not she had on any other layers.
He nodded at first, then realized she wasn’t looking at him, so he replied, “Yes, ma’am. I hope it’s to your liking.” She was sliding that skirt up one centimeter at a time and her languid approach was ramping up his excitement exponentially.
To hell with it, he thought, getting down on his knees directly behind her to get a closer look. He kisses the back of her thigh to make sure she realized he’d moved behind her. He didn’t want her to stumble or fall if she turned around, expecting more space, and he most certainly did not want to be struck accidentally, either. She startled visibly as his lips touched her skin, but it didn’t stop her from teasingly lifting the garment for his voyeurism.
His lips followed the hem of her gauzy covering as she revealed herself. He found out she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the gown as he kissed first one ass cheek and then the other. He used one hand to stroke along her leg and the other stayed on his dick.
He thought he’d explode any time now, although he was barely touching himself. He decided to abandon that endeavor and stroke over both of her thighs, his lips continuing to explore the territory revealed as he kissed the expanse of flesh before him. He barely registered that the filmy covering she’d been wearing landed on the floor beside him as he used his hands to jiggle her ass cheeks, transfixed by the view he created.
“I have dreamed of this moment so many times, Sansara,” he said to her huskily, betraying his utter ecstasy even though they weren’t even close to the main course yet. She turned around slowly in front of him in order to look him in the eyes.
“I know, I was there,” she said sarcastically, which made him laugh. His laughter died away as his gaze became level with the treasure directly in front of them. He pulled her labia apart delicately in order to rub his tongue against her clit in a circuit. She moaned as her hands moved through the air in front of her like she didn’t know what to do with them. He put his hands in hers, linking fingers as his tongue continued to press against her clit repetitively, insistently, trying to show her how exciting he found her to be. She made so much noise, just like all those dreams he had shared with her. He must be dreaming again, he thought.
Once he thought that, he remembered the dream they’d shared before he was summarily kicked to the curb. He had gone overboard in that dream, so he resolved to be as tender as possible as he stimulated her further. He had pushed her too far, which is rape, and that was the complete opposite of his goal.
Her sounds softened in response to his silent vow, emerging about half as often, much to his lament. However, her fingers squeezed his hands as she spoke to him. “That’s perfect,” she breathed, which he was more than grateful to hear in his moment of doubt. His thoughts wandered briefly to wonder if other recipients had been overstimulated in the past, but they quickly returned to the action at hand. He started spelling out sentences idly, taking care not to press too demandingly.
She let go of his hands to rest hers on top of his head, barely touching him. He took the opportunity to stroke over her thighs, petting her seal-like flesh. She seemed off-balance where she stood, so he pulled away long enough to lead her to the couch.
He patted the edge of the couch to encourage her to sit down. As soon as she complied, he firmly but tenderly pushed her thighs apart, his thumbs stroking her skin lovingly as he did so. He watched her face all the while, looking for any sign of pain and simultaneously hoping he wouldn’t trigger her dislocated hip as he spread her legs apart in front of him. He heard a k-thunk noise as he finished urging her to spread for him. She made a sound over it, but ultimately she relaxed afterward. He kissed her inner thighs, first the left and then the right.
She took up the hookah hose and said, “Cheers, baby,” puffing away at it the best she could. His mouth descended upon her clit once more, making it difficult to draw from the water pipe between entranced moans. Their gazes were locked on each other as their arousal was exacerbated by his actions. It was clear he was her world in that moment. It made him feel so empowered. He enjoyed viewing all of her upper body as he lapped diligently at the sensitive nub hidden in the folds of her nether region. He was getting more and more excited as he elicited clouds of billowing smoke accompanied by intense moans, sighs, and the occasional gasp. Every stroke of his tongue pleased her, egging him on much longer than he’d expected to lick and flick the tiny nerve cluster.
He teased her wet slit with his index finger, gliding his digit gently over the soft folds of skin, glad he’d been diligent about cutting and filing his nails. He was thrilled to find she was dripping wet. Wet enough to receive him any moment. He wasn’t finished worshiping her clit, though his mind wandered to what would come next: penetration.
He tenderly massaged the erect nub with his tongue, his mouth covering it completely as he sucked at the same time, hoping it would send her over the edge. That’s when he slipped his finger into her void, finding that there was not much space between the finger and the walls of her birthing canal. His eyes opened and his eyebrows shot upward, surprised. His mouth left her clit long enough to demand, “How am I supposed to fit in there?” His look of incredulousness was unfettered. She shivered as his hot breath collided with her wet skin.
She bit her lip as she looked at him, breathing out hookah smoke through her nostrils. “Magic?” she guessed. He was shaking his head, chuckling a little at her response. He gently parted the folds of her vaginal opening to look closer. He didn’t expect to find anything revealing, but he was beyond interested now that he had an idea of how tight she was, of how small she was. He found nothing but pink flesh. His mouth descended upon her clit once again, remembering his current mission. She squirmed and moaned, her hips moving against his questing tongue and the finger he was probing her with.
“Daniel,” she moaned at him. “I’m going to come soon if you keep that up,” she said breathily. That’s exactly what he wanted, as it turned out. He didn’t deviate at all from the gentle stimulation he’d been providing, hoping that keeping the same pace would bring her to a climax.
She squealed as her hips bucked into his face. Thankfully, because he was pliant, his head was pushed back when her hips went rogue instead of sustaining damage from the sudden movement. Her fingers were clawing the air as her body shook beneath him. He withdrew his digit from her inner folds gently, his mouth following suit.
“Permission to climb aboard?” he asked her, repeating her request from earlier in the evening.
“Aye, aye, cap’n, but I’ll need a moment to recover first,’ she said at last. The two seconds it took her to get herself together to say that much seemed like eternity. He could have lived in that moment forever, anyway. She looked so beautiful, flushed pink and caught up in the moment.
He slapped his cock against her clit while he waited, making her moan loudly each time his foreskin connected with her sensitive pearl of flesh. He could do this all day. It became clear to him that she was going to be fun no matter what was happening. He gritted his teeth as it became obvious to him how she’d been raped so many times — the noises she made drove less schooled individuals to give it to her harder, faster. He was not going to make that mistake, he decided. It was going to take an great deal of willpower, but he rose to the challenge.
She opened her eyes as her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “Please sir, can I have some more?” she asked him.
He bit his lip as he slid his cock into her. She was incredibly tight, warm, and wet. Definitely loads of fun, he noted again, appreciating her rather inappropriate Oliver Twist reference and the new noises she made as he came to rest, buried inside of her.
He believed the loud outcry he’d just solicited from her was a sound of pain, so he stilled himself and watched her squirm as she moaned again. He learned his lesson from dreamland, he thought, smiling as he waited for her to get comfortable again. After several moments of what would seem like outright theatrics to others, Crystal became quiet once more. Her eyes opened again and she looked up at him lovingly. He collected her hands in his, holding them as he withdrew his penis as slowly as possible, almost sliding out of her completely before sliding his sword back into her to the hilt.
He kissed the backs of her hands and her knuckles as he made lazy, languid strokes into her tiny opening. She was whimpering the entire time, overly sensitive to every single movement he made. He noted her nipples were hard, a sure sign of major arousal. He paused any time her eyes threatened to close, waiting for her as patiently as he could manage. It was almost maddening, but he knew they’d get there eventually. It’s always been said the journey was more important than the destination, after all. He wondered if that quote was about sex, specifically.
She started to move her hips to meet his lazy thrusts, to his surprise. He openly adored her for taking an active role, watching her meet him halfway. His face shone with adoration unabashedly as their hips joined and parted again and again. She made even more noise as she took what she needed from him. He realized about a month ago she’d been celibate three times as long as he had been, if not even longer than that. He thought she have been eager due to that alone, but the truth was that Diego set her on fire. She’d never been attracted to anyone like she was to this man. She told him so between gasps and whimpers, making his yearning grow even more intense.
He slowed himself down again, finding that he’d sped up a bit as she told him that he was the most attractive person she’d ever been with. He never wanted to hurt her and he especially didn’t want to rape his woman. He needed the memory of their union to be good, if not great, especially since she’d just admitted to him that she found him to be a ten. Hurting her would drive her away from him, he knew that before they had begun, but now it seemed even more important to keep her coming closer emotionally.
She let go of his hands to rub over his hairy chest, smiling as she touched him, her eyes following her hands. He returned to rubbing delicately over her thighs, his skin barely touching hers as he continued to make love to her. It was slow and sweet, he thought. He could feel himself getting closer and closer, but he couldn’t tell how close she was due to the nonstop noise she made. “I love that,” she told him, referring to the thigh worship. He knew for sure that’s what she meant because her eyes flickered to his roaming hands.
He didn’t have to wonder long whether or not she was close to climax. She gasped suddenly, her hips engaging him with much more vigor. He stilled himself entirely so she could ride him to her contentment. His eyes were flickering between them and her face as his hands continuing to roam over her thighs lovingly. She was becoming more and more flushed, so he kept his gaze on her face and eyes, leaning over her to get closer as she started to tremble visibly. “I love you,” he mouthed as she fucked him, getting wild beneath him as she suddenly couldn’t get enough. And, just like that, she was whimpering his name on repeat, her eyes locked on his face. She reached another climax just then, which made him smile.
He grunted appreciatively as her cunt clenched around his cock, his hips jerking forward involuntarily to shove his entire length into her and coming a split second later. He was elated as they came together. He knew from past experience that this was not the easiest feat to accomplish.
They were all smiles at each other as her arms snaked around his neck. He kissed her as delicately as he could, trying once again to put all his feeling into that one action. She held onto him possessively, but it wasn’t desperate or stiff; it felt natural. He sighed happily: mission accomplished. They made love. He nuzzled her neck for several moments before pressing his lips to her shiny skin.
She moaned softly under his attention. A moment later, she asked him to withdraw from her so softly he almost didn’t hear her. He held her close to his chest as he complied, the feat easy due to being flaccid again. He didn’t dare leave her as they shared in the afterglow. If the dreams were real, this was her favorite part. She sighed happily at him and he felt like the king of the world.
“I love you, Diego.”
Angel-Sansara 